Hey folks, this is going to be my greatest project here on salvation as of yet. It will be a three-part story featuring some legendary creatures and cards people have come to like and admire from the Innistrad world. I must say it took me some hell of a job to put this first part of the story together, and if you guys like what you see tell me so I can more quickly deliver the second and third parts.
I must say that Jay's article on Innistrad in the Archive Trap was fundamental for the accomplishment of this story, and I really suggest everyone to go read it as a nice way to understand better the lore. Please, don't shy from feedback, it is really important.
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Grey Areas
Part 1: Monsters
The present. A week before Hunter’s Moon.
The wagon approached its destination, wheels reeling under the heavy weight of the wood box it was carrying. The gates of Thraben stood tall on the horizon, reinforced oak wood surrounded by some dozens of feet of solid stone walls, reflecting the shining sun on its downward path towards the horizon. The cloaked figure who rode the wagon admired that structure once more, the same walls and gates he defended so many times before, now completely alienated from him. That though brought his mind to dark places, and he moved his hand to reach Avacyn’s collar locked around his neck… only to find nothing. It was no longer with him.
Sentries moved on their posts, gazing unsteadily at the lonely wagon that approached on the road. Not so long ago, they would have shown welcoming, composed faces, because peace had spread its arms across the land of Innistrad. Now they pointed their ballistas to the conductor and kept the door of the gates tightly shut. Peace had lost its grip. “Who goes there?” Asked one of the sentries, readying his weapon to shoot darts on sight, “friend or foe?” Pressed the man, as if a foe would feel compelled to reveal his identity due to his question.
“Friend,” answered the cloaked figure with a hoarse voice, pulling the reigns of his horse to make the animal stop its march. “I’ve come to deliver offerings to the church.” The sentry didn’t look convinced, so he made a hand sign and not long after that another guard showed up exiting a side-entrance to one of the watchtowers. The guard carried a heavy halberd and looked even more unfriendly than the first sentry. He approached the wagon as if the ground was about to crack open and swallow him whole, which was not unheard of.
“Remove your hood, traveler. An honest man doesn’t hide his face.” The conductor of the wagon hesitated for a moment, and then took off his cloak, revealing the battered face of a middle-aged man with an incredibly long beard streaked of grey patches. His hair was almost totally white, even though he certainly wasn’t an elder yet. “What do you bring to our city?” Asked the guard, taking a long glance at the enormous wooden box that was being carried by the wagon “what is inside the box?”
“Offerings to the church, as I said” replied the conductor.
“Open it up,” ordered the guard, moving the point of his Halberd down towards the box.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” answered the conductor, looking straight into the guard’s eyes. “It can’t be exposed to the sun.”
Shivers moved through the spine of the guard, who immediately moved the point of his weapon towards the conductor. “What do you mean?” The man’s eyes were transfixed, bulging from their orbits “Is there some foul beast in there?! Some evil token or tainted charm?!” The man was starting to raise his voice “Are you going to curse-“
“It is just fresh paintings” came the answer from the man with a hoarse voice, “no charms, tokens or beasts, but fresh paintings of the bishop and other figures of the clergy. The sun will ruin the drying process.”
The guard stood silent for a while, as if processing the information, but not moving one inch out of the way of the wagon.
“Look, I can open it for you,” started the conductor “but if I do so I will have to explain to the bishop who were the ones responsible for causing any lasting damage”. The guard paid heed to those words, but still didn’t move from his position. There was… something emanating from that wood box. He couldn’t explain with words, but despite all his training he felt the need to drop his weapon and run for shelter. He felt cornered, small; a little mouse in front of a dangerous predator. He firmed his grasp on the pole of his weapon, and gulped. No matter how visceral was his fear, he couldn’t let this strange man enter the gates of Thraben carrying that.
“I can’t let you-“ the man was about to finish his sentence when he was struck by a strange dizziness. The air seemed to grow heavier, and for a moment he felt as if couldn’t control his mouth or arms. He tried to move, or to speak, but all his movements felt wrong, as if his body was lagging behind his will. Everything went dark for a second, and then he opened his eyes. The cloaked figure of the man was gone. In fact, the road itself was gone and he was inside his quarters with the other guards, sitting over a table.
“Hey, Duncan!” Said one of the guards “I asked for you to grab another torch, this one is almost completely burnt.”
“What happened?” Asked the guard Duncan, quickly rising from his table and looking over to the sides “Where is he? Where is the man with the box?” babbled Duncan, aggravated, trying to understand if it had been all a dream.
“What man?” Replied with a question one of his confused colleagues.
“I was outside, and there was a man in a wagon with a box!” Repeated the guard, “he was talking about offers to the church, but it felt wrong and dangerous and-“
Duncan stopped talking when another guard rose, staring directly at him. It was the sentry who had him go down to meet with the cloaked man. “What are you saying Duncan? You said that the man was clean, and he could pass,” there was a long pause, where everyone was staring at him “we let him through.”
The sentry Duncan almost felt dizzy again upon hearing this. He didn’t understand what happened or how it happened, but his agitated state made him move towards one of the embrasures on the wall. It was night time, stars covering the sky.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the chattering sounds of his colleagues asking him a bunch of questions, and focused on the memories he could gather from the scene. Nothing new came to mind, except for one other feeling that was hidden below the deep cover of crushing fear that he felt near the box. The feeling of unsettling familiarity.
He knew the face of that conductor. Duncan moved from the quarters towards the bookkeeping room, where they kept the register of all officers and important figures. There, in a painting that was about to be removed from room, left on a corner leaning on the wall, he saw the face of the man in the wagon.
“What happened Duncan? Was the man dangerous?” Asked one of the many sentries that followed him to the room during what seemed to be a nervous breakdown.
“T-That man… y-yes, he's dangerous” replied Duncan tripping on the words, as if hit by a sudden revelation, “he was Master Cathar Odric, the Heretic”.
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
Odric stretched his neck and adjusted his posture. He was riding for hours, and the heavy weight of his armor was pressing on the shoulders, with the chainmail biting the skin through his shirt. He didn’t want to admit, but he was an old man. Long gone were the times where he could sustain a prolonged ride like this and think of nothing but the completion of his task. Now he could only think of a warm meal and a soft bed.
His riders were dispirited as well. There was a soft rain coming from the clouds formed in Stensia, the sort of rain that does not help grow the crops or fill up the wells, just soak the men and women in its path, washing down their moods as it washes the land. Their chase after Ludevic was once again a complete failure. Initially Odric wasn’t concerned about the possibility of not finding the necro-alchemist, but as he kept following the leads, it seemed that nobody really knew where he was. The constant sights of ghouls and skaabs were the main reason for false reports, which led the Commander of the Gavony Riders to pursue shadows and rumors.
Odric hated the life of sitting on a chair. He was eager for a chance at mounting Whitesnow, his stallion, and bringing the mad man Ludevic to the justice of Avacyn. How thankful he was to hear the convocation to follow a strong lead on the alchemist - the perfect excuse for him to abandon his desk position. However, now he feared he had placed the lives of his men into unnecessary danger. Avacyn spread her power across the land, wiping most werewolves, making the vampires retreat and the ghouls shamble back to the abominable grounds that spawned them, but Innistrad was still a perilous place. That feeling was amplified now that they were crossing Getander Pass, the only way from Kessig to Stensia, and the last reported sight of Ludevic and his abominations. They were retreating now, almost at full gallop speed, but the treacherous mountain ground held their progress at bay.
“I don’t like this” spoke Grete, second in command and one of the fiercest warriors Odric ever had the pleasure of knowing. “Why would Ludevic walk through the vampire highlands? This place is dangerous, even to him.”
“What are you implying, Grete?” Asked another of Odric’s riders, Vanessa.
“That we were led to a trap,” replied Grete, who was not well-known for beating around the bush. “Someone wanted us to come here.”
“Nonsense,” intervened Ulrich, one of the most loyal and faithful riders in Odric’s company. “The report came from high-ranking members of our Holy Church. They would not spread folly rumors like immature youngsters, nor would they have anything to gain in laying a trap for one of their strongest arms in Innistrad, the Gavony Riders.” Odric remained silent, listening to what his commandos were discussing, wondering about the Church and its members. “Ludevic is a murderous bastard, but he is also resourceful, he must have found a safe way to cross these grounds. For all we know he could be associated with those blasted vampires as well!” Added Ulrich, whose conviction of the good will of the Church was his greatest strength and biggest weakness.
“I’m saying something doesn’t fit,” said Grete, who was well-known for being strongwilled in regards to her opinions. “The high-ranking call made all of the best members of the Riders to follow up on this lead. We were driven far off course from any cathar watchpost, inside the vampire grounds. Not only that, but we found no indications of skaabs and the only way back to Thraben is through these wretched vampire passes. If you ask me, tired as we are, this would be the perfect time for a strike.”
All of Grete’s considerations burned through Odric’s mind like dry logs in a bonfire. She thought exactly like him, or maybe even better. Odric was well-known for his strategic skills, and he had to admit that, if this was a plan to corner the Riders, that particular place and time were the perfect choices. The short passages in the mountains made their mount advantage a liability. Adding the frustration at the failed trip and the fatigue of a long day’s ride, it all made it too easy to justify an attack. Even beyond that, there was also the cathar’s gut feeling. You could be a simpleton or a mad genius, but ignoring your instincts on Innistrad was a sure way to become werewolf food.
“Let’s turn back,” spoke Odric at last, stopping Whitesnow’s march. “I don’t like this either. We are too exposed on this grounds, let’s go back to Kessig and pursuit a path through one of the Breakneck Rides,” for the blessed Avacyn, how Odric hated that name.
“Sir,” protested Ulrich “we are halfway through Getander Pass. After we get back it will be night time and the forests in Kessig are full of geists and apparitions.” All the riders had stopped now, a full platoon of 16 men, lined up in single file due to the terrain constraints. The screech of bats resonated from multiple nesting holes going all the way up above the mountains. “I must point out that turning back now is as dangerous as risking a trap.”
Odric would have replied to that, if it weren’t for Grete holding up an arm. “Sir,” alerted his lieutenant, “listen”. The Commander of the Gavony Riders stopped his breath, and closed his eyes. There were no other sounds but the heavy breathing of tired horses.
“I hear nothing,” answered Odric.
“Precisely,” concluded Grete. Immediately after, they heard a scream.
One of the riders at the end of the line fell from his horse and was struggling with a cloaked figure smaller than him, but apparently much stronger. Another scream came before anyone could react, followed by the horrible bubbling sound of a man drowning in his own blood. The creature had torn a piece of the rider’s neck, and it turned its head to the other members of the platoon, eyes shining in the dark and fangs dripping with blood.
“Vampires!” Cried Odric, unsheathing his silver sword Moonshard, but most of the other riders were too slow. The Commander of the Gavony Riders could see from the corner of his eye that many other vampires were descending from the mountainside, clinging to the walls as if they were spiders, their movements too fast to follow properly. Claws and teeth hit most of Odric’s men before they could even turn their heads around, only a few like Grete and Ulrich being actually capable of taking a hold of their weapons and pointing towards the frenzied vampires. It would be a massacre.
The narrow pathway was hindering their movements, but Odric was able to turn Whitesnow around and shout an order. “Jump from your horses! Use them as shields!” That was a difficult request, and hardly the noblest thing for riders to do, but they would all die otherwise. The Commander was the first to drop down from his mount, and heard the panicked neigh of his horse when a vampire hit it on the back, followed by the visceral sound of a predator ripping the flesh of its prey. Whitesnow was dead even before its legs failed under its weight, with its marble hide turned crimson red. Odric allowed himself to feel that loss only for a moment before moving his sword upward in a piercing lunge, the bright silver cutting through vampire skin as if it were made of straw, and the creature screeched while its body burst with the pain. “Regroup! Everyone that is still alive move closer to each other!”
Odric couldn’t explain what happened that day, even if he wanted to. Half of his men had been killed in just that first assault launched by the vampires, and yet somehow they managed to get together and, back-to-back, cut through the bloodlusted bastards with their silver-inlaid weapons. There was something wrong with those vampires. They were much more brutal and fearless than what the Commander could remember, but that was also making their attacks predictable and shortsighted. Had they been even in numbers, Odric was sure he could have killed all of them without losing a single man. However, they had the terrain, the surprise and the numbers on their side. The riders could not withstand all those attacks.
In the end, it was just Ulrich, Grete and Odric, surrounded by the monsters. Vanessa and all the other riders were dead or dying, their bodies lying on pools of blood. “I’m sorry,” Odric managed to mutter through gritted teeth “I’ve failed you.” His eyes were burning red, with tears of rage and grief trickling down his cheekbones. The Commander raised his sword, attempting one last strike, but was interrupted by a shout.
“Stop!” It came from above.
Odric turned his head around and saw another vampire floating downwards in their direction. This one was much more composed, but still carried that same predator look on her face. “My children, what have you done?” Asked the vampire, and at this point it was clear to Odric that she was addressing the creatures that encircled them, not the cathars. “I taught you better than to attack with such carelessness, especially members of the Holy Church. What is happening to you?” She proceeded with her monologue, apparently not really expecting an answer. That made Odric look around, past his pain and fury, and notice something. Some of the vampires were strange, but he could not place exactly why. One of them hissed like a snake, and it seemed to the cathar that two tongues were protruding from its mouth. “Begone!” Cried the flying vampire, with a commanding voice, and for a moment the Commander thought the vampires would not take that order, but they ultimately just made more sounds and disappeared back into the mountains.
The floating vampire was approaching Odric and his two remaining warriors from the fall side of the pass. Below her were some dozens of feet of a steep mountain slope that would lead to certain death. “I would ask for your forgiveness, humans, if I knew that you were capable of such things,” her voice was soft and menacing at the same time, “those vampires were my responsibility, but for some reason they are in an altered state of mind, and-”
“You are a monster,” interrupted Grete, “you and all your kind don’t deserve forgiveness. You deserve nothing but the tip of our blades.”
“Typical human rhetoric,” scorned the vampire “but I will not ask for the comprehension of dead men.” Her eyes turned a little brighter as she said that, and Odric could see that she too was struggling to keep her patrician impression. “Our numbers have dwindled ever since that accursed angel came back, and I can’t afford the Church to retaliate and put more of our kind on stakes.” She was flying closer to them now, her hands moving unsteadily on her body. Odric could feel that she wasn’t just a neonate, she could murder all three of them if she so wished. “That’s why I have to end you now.”
“Nobody else is dying today,” replied Odric before she did anything else, “but you and me.” The Commander ran in the vampire's direction and jumped as hard as he could, before Grete and Ulrich could try to stop him. The suicidal strategy was so unexpected that the vampire stood without reacting for a brief moment, and that was all that the old cathar needed to grab her by the torso and drag her tumbling in screams down the mountain slope. Odric could hear the cries of Grete, and the momentary sense of weightlessness before he and the vampire crashed into the mountainside. Her body took most of the impact, but enough force was left for him to lose all the air in his lungs and hear the clear sound of ribs cracking. His world went dark after that.
…
Odric woke up, the pain he was feeling being the only indicator he hadn’t reach the Blessed Sleep. He looked around and saw the base of the mountain running all the way to the top. He had fallen inside a valley, and wasn’t sure that he could even drag his body off the ground. The pain felt terrible, but not in any lasting way, or so he hoped. He spotted his sword abandoned on the ground, probably with the blade ruined from the fall. And then, a little bit farther away, he saw the vampire. Despite taking most of the fall, she seemed to still be alive. Not for long.
Gathering all his remaining willpower, the old cathar moved himself until he reached Moonshard, and managed to drag himself and his blade close enough to the vampire. She had fallen in an awkward position, and it seemed as if many bones in her body were broken. For only a trice, Odric almost felt sorry for her. Then he started moving his blade upwards to slit her throat, but stopped himself when he noticed the vampire was awake.
“Go ahead human,” mumbled the vampire, with a harsh pitch in her voice, indicating that even speaking was becoming painful “murder me like sheep. I’m too hurt to make it out of this alive anyway.”
“You deserve this,” Odric managed to reply. “You know how many good men and women your monsters killed in that pass? How many grieving families and orphan sons you and your aberrations created?” A flash of the lifeless body of his young son came to Odric’s eyes, and he tightened the grip on his sword.
“Hypocrites,” the patrician vampire said with a smirk on her face, “all humans are hypocrites.”
“You dare accuse us of such deeds? To murder the innocent? To destroy the lives of children?” Odric was almost shouting, despite the pain it caused him.
“I dare accuse you of much worse,” was the answer of the dying vampire. “Are you blind? Your kind murders each other just as much or even more than vampires, werewolves and geists put together.” Her voice appeared to fade in the middle of a sentence, but would come back strong again after a while. “Vampires kill humans because we need to feed. Do you also judge the hunters who kill deer for sustenance? Do you pity for the cubs in the forests who are left for dead after their parents become pelt?”
“I’m talking of humans!” Odric finally exploded, his lungs burning with the effort, “not animals!”
“What is the difference cathar?” Retorted the vampire, her voice somehow sharp as a blade now, “Are humans better than the other creatures? Are they nobler? Are they entitled to have their lives preserved while they cut down forests, kill rivers with their filth and excrements, indiscriminately tagging away all other beings as monsters, so it is easier to justify their deaths?!” She had a coughing fit after the last line, pointed by a marked sound of rasping of the almost dead. “No matter,” she spoke after a long time in silence, spitting blood, “you do not understand. In Stensia the greatest providers of vampire prey are human merchants themselves. They negotiate their own kind in exchange for favors and riches. You are just as bad as the remaining monsters of Innistrad.”
Odric had clasped firmly the hilt of his blade. He looked at that vampire aristocrat, then looked at his blade, and couldn’t help but think that what he was about to do was stone cold murder. If she was a human, even a murderer, he would feel obliged to help her in any way he could before bringing her to the Justice of the Church, where she would have a fair trial. What was different here? That thought was gnawing his mind, and he knew through his instincts, through that same gut feeling, that what he almost did was wrong.
“Are you dying?” The cathar asked, after putting his blade down, knowing it was an obvious question.
“Why do you care?” Replied the vampire, whose voice gave away a trembling of pain and fear, two very human emotions when meeting the end.
There was silence once again. The Commander of the Gavony Riders would not answer that question. He just took a deep breath, knowing he had hurt himself more than he should. He listened to the sounds of crows and saw the kettle of vultures circling around the dead bodies on the pass above. No doubt they would go down here later to feast on his remains as well. The vampire on his side coughed once again, and he caught a low humming sound coming from her. She was singing to herself, with what was left of her strength. It sounded like a lullaby. At that moment, Odric felt as if there was just one monster there. And it wasn’t her.
The vampire felt the darkness claiming her, not sure of what was to come next. She was uncertain if the damned had a chance of reaching the so-called Blessed Sleep of the humans. She was feeling dead already, completely done for… when a copper taste reached her mouth, one that she knew all very well: blood. She moved her head slightly to the side, and felt the drops of blood reaching her mouth agape. It was the old cathar. He had cut his wrist with the blade of his sword and was letting what remained of his blood to flow to her mouth, invigorating her, powering her, making her feel anew.
“Why?” Asked the vampire, grabbing Odric’s wrist with her good remaining hand and sucking the blood without sinking her teeth.
“Because” he answered, straining himself “we are not just monsters.” That was the Commander’s last sentence before his consciousness started to fade away again.
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
The wagon was covered in shadows inside the dark alley, his conductor waiting for the movement on the streets to cease. Odric had his hands freezing with the unusual chilling cold of late. The weather was strange, but so was everything else. The angels could no longer be trusted, the vampires were going mad, the werewolves returning, and the Church was turning a blind eye to it. The cathar looked around, rubbing his hands together, and decided it was time.
Odric, the Heretic, grabbed a crowbar and tore the wood planks of the box apart. From the inside, the vampire Alicia emerged, a displeased look on her face.
“I did not agree to help this cause to be moved around as animal, master cathar” stated the patrician vampire of the Falkenrath house, her voice with the distinctive soft and menacing tone it usually had.
“Not so long ago, you educated me that we were no different from animals ourselves” was Odric reply, meant as a joke. The vampire bitter look was an indication that his attempt at humor had failed. “I mean no disrespect,” added the cathar to sooth the moods, “but that was the only safe way of moving you inside these walls. The sentries have ballistae positioned to shoot down angels and vampires, while the walls are warded against evil.”
“Your little plan only worked due to my intervention,” retorted Alicia, “I had to cast a spell on that guard after your pathetic venture at swaying him failed miserably.”
The guard’s reaction had in fact changed so abruptly that Odric suspected of wizardry at hand. He was still surprised by the range of abilities Alicia possessed, and constantly worrying about it at the same time. When she spared his life after drinking enough blood at the deep bottom of the Stensia valley, the cathar asked himself how much of his judgments were misguided, and how much could he trust in what once he considered his enemies. One thing he knew for sure though: the bishop he went to see in Thraben was not to be trusted. He represented everything that was wrong on Avacyn’s Church, and it was unfortunate the ex-Commander didn’t have the power to arrest him anymore. For now.
…
Thraben was silent, except for the muffled sound of distant footsteps of guards and beggars. The air was loaded with anxiety and mistrust, for once people were afraid their guardians had abandoned them, but now they had the much worse fear of having their guardians turned against them. The creaking sound of a door opening was followed by discrete farewells, and bishop Collhard hurried his steps into the night. The lime washed houses following the main street had their door and windows shut, not even a light of a candelabra shining on the inside. Collhard looked to his sides, hearing the running water sound of the fountain in the main square, and cold sweat started covering his forehead. Being out of the cathedral, even inside the city, made him nervous.
The bishop increased his pace, trying to reach Child’s Wall before bumping into someone and being forced to give explanations, but stopped when he heard a sound. He turned around, thinking that he was being followed, and scanned the dark alleys and side streets looking for any indication of movement. There was nothing. The bishop turned back again but immediately stopped, because right in front of him stood a cloaked man. “W-Who are you?” Stuttered the bishop, holding the Avacyn’s Collar he held on his neck as a reflex.
Odric did not respond. He took his hood down, revealing the tired face of a bearded man, and moved closer to the bishop. “S-stop!” Collhard tried to command, “what are you doing? I will cry for the guards!”
Back-paddling his steps, the Bishop stopped when a chill run through his spine and he forced himself to turn around. There, standing taller than him, was the predator figure of a vampire. He almost choked on his own spit, and started to wet himself, falling on his knees in front of the creature and chanting prayers. “What a feeble man,” disdained Alicia.
“You don’t remember me bishop?” Asked Odric, moving close to Collhard and helding his head up, so the man would face his eyes. “I took orders from you, multiple times. The last one was to find Ludevic on the borders of Kessig and Stensia.”
Collhard pressed his eyes and stared at the battered face of the cathar, until recognition came with what may have been a hint of relief. “Odric! Odric, my son, you’re alive and well! I prayed so much for your soul and your return to-“
“Shut up Collhard,” Odric’s words immediately transfigured the bishop’s face, eliminating all that was left of relief and replacing it with sheer panic. “You are a corrupt bastard, and deserves to face trial for your crimes.” The bishop didn’t confirm and didn’t deny anything, he was too scared, trapped between the cathar and the vampire. “But you will be useful to us,” proceeded Odric, “I want to know where is the scroll for the Accursed Relic”. The whole body of the bishop trembled when hearing those last words.
“I can’t tell you,” he said with what was left of his courage, “they will kill me.” Odric shook his head in disappointment, and Alicia grabbed the man by the shoulders with supernatural strength.
She looked deep into his eyes, with an amused and threatening expression, “oh, but you will tell us.” And the bishop would have screamed, if he could.
…
Collhard told them everything. He was found the next day, muttering gibberish, and was taken to an asylum. Avabruck. In an old church inside the wasted capital of Kessig, that was the last place the scroll was seen, exchanged as a holy gift. Odric would have to travel to that city, currently known as Hollowhenge, and find the scroll. He would need more help for that.
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
The chilling cold was biting Odric’s neck, and the stiffness of his body made all his movements difficult. He rubbed his hands together while moving in the muddied grounds of the Moorland, regretting almost all of his last decisions. He chose not to trespass into vampire territory again, due to the increasing savagery and aggressiveness of the bloodlust creatures. Instead, he opted to walk until the border between Kessig and Gavony and find a guide to Hollowhenge. He chose to go there on foot so he could easily avoid cathar’s watchposts and the risk of being recognized. He also chose to depart from Alicia temporarily, given her growing need for human blood and the difficult she was having in controlling herself. All these choices meant that he had no horse, no company and no clear path to the city where he was supposed to find the scroll.
The ground on the Moorland was treacherous, with abandoned grafs spawning undead monstrosities and desecrated land where if a man was to find his death, he was never to reach the Blessed Sleep. While walking among the decayed trunks of trees, listening to the distant howls of the wind, Odric tried to comfort himself repeating his old adage - fear holds no place in faith’s battle plan. He didn’t feel as safeguarded as he used to when repeating it this time.
The ex-Commander of the Gavony Riders knew that his faith had been rewarded before. The very ground he walked on was a proof of that. Gisa and Geralf used to have the Moorland as their private battleground, but after Avacyn’s return the necromancer had been incarcerated and the stitcher retreated to his concealed laboratory. The people who were held slaves of fear were now free to live their lives in peace. Skaabs and ghouls were no more, their numbers dwindling with each cycle of the moon. However, that wasn’t the end of it. The angels, who helped the commoners in their most dire hour, were now the ones bringing suffering to their lives. What did that mean? – The cathar kept asking himself. Did it mean that his faith had been misplaced all along? With that question in mind, Odric’s own saying sounded hollow, and his beliefs felt shallow.
As he moved closer to the border, Odric noticed things moving in the woods. Shambling bodies muttering incohesive sounds, staring at the cathar with empty eye sockets from a distance. They were too slow and scattered to provide any threat, but their presence was a sign that the shadows which once covered Innistrad were returning. Odric moved one of his hands to the hilt of his sword, Moonshard. If he couldn’t find reassurance on his faith, he would find on his steel.
…
It was almost nighttime when Odric’s tired feet found a place to rest. It was a very small village at the limits of what was the province of Gavony, bordering the Ulvenwald forest. He didn’t remember seeing that village before when he rode through that region, protecting the inhabitants of the Moorland from Gisa’s assaults. The houses of the village seemed to be made of wattle and daub with thatched rooftops, and the streets looked deserted from where the cathar was standing. As Odric approached the place, he spotted a wooden sign with trembling letters written on red paint: “Welcome to Bruck”.
The lack of a single human being in the soggy roads of the village made Odric’s instincts kick in. He looked around, feeling as if thousands of eyes were spying on him, measuring his movements, ready to attack. He turned to the sides, looking for a hint of humanity in that forsaken village. “Is there anyone here?” Asked the cathar, draped on the same clothing he had the day he entered the gates of Thraben, “I need food, and a place to stay for the night. I can pay for it,” added the ex-Commander, hoping his offer would entice someone to move forward. He had loosed his hood, and his long beard made him look like a hermit or homeless man.
There was a creaky sound in the distance, followed by the constant drumming of footsteps. Finally a man came up from one of the side streets, breaking some of Odric’s tension. He was a heavily built man, with strong forearms and a wide chest, a deep hairline indicated he was entering in his more mature years. “Who are you traveler?” His voice was deep, matching his size. “Where do you come from? Your accent sounds the same as of the elite of Nearheath, and we don’t trust that kind”.
“I’m a weary traveler, seeking refuge for a night so I can return home,” answered Odric, repeating the story he had crafted on his mind. “My parents were from Thraben, but I was born in Lambholt”.
There was silence for a moment where the other man seemed to be measuring the weight of Odric’s words. That only lasted up until when a door swung open from one of the houses. A woman with a disturbed complexion walked out of it and started screaming, “Liar! He is a liar!” She seemed awfully frightened. “We don’t know who he is!” Continued her, yelling at the muscular man who was talking to Odric, “we can’t trust him! Leave him be Derek! It is almost nighttime! It is not safe! Close your doors!”
“Go back to your house Tina, he is just a man. He also might need our help,” replied Derek to the shouting woman. “Even if he is not telling the whole truth,” completed him, turning his head towards Odric, indicating he too didn’t believe a word out of the cathar’s mouth. Odric was now convinced that he, in fact, was a terrible liar.
The cathar noticed that the discussion had stirred the curiosity of other village members – doors were starting to creak and window panels were removed. Heads and eyes were showing up, and some people dared moving into the streets. “We can’t trust him! It is almost nighttime!” Repeated Tina, the scared woman, looking to her sides. “The creature will appear soon! Leave him to it!” Odric realized some villagers were shaking their heads in approval, as if leaving someone to face ‘the creature’ was the sensible thing to do.
“We will not-” Derek started saying something when he was interrupted by a little girl’s cry “Dad! Come back! Mom is scared!” She almost fell running towards him, but she got back on her feet and hugged her father. She looked at Odric turning her head just a little, and the cathar did his best not to look startled. Her face had three scars running from the top of her forehead down to the side of her cheek, one of them passing straight through where one of her eyes was. She had lost that part of her sight, and the scars left no doubt as to what was to blame – a werewolves’ paw. That vision reminded Odric of his own painful past, and he gritted his teeth without realizing.
“See Derek!” Exclaimed Tina, who seemed to be capable of communicating only via agonizing wails, “your kid knows what is important! Go to your home, take care of your family!” There were murmurs coming from the few people standing outside, agreeing with the woman and looking back at Derek, “it is late Derek,” said someone, “get back! You’re endangering us!” Insisted yet another person.
“What is this creature?” Asked Odric in his hoarse voice, cutting down the chatter, before the spirits started to get high.
“It is a beast,” answered Tina, looking at the setting sun in the horizon “it comes in the nights closer to the Hunter’s Moon, bigger than a grizzly bear, and walks in our streets howling to the skies and looking for people to kill. The only thing that protects us is our faith and the charms we leave at our doorsteps.” The cathar saw the woman indicating trinkets and painted signs in the doors. He doubted that would stop anything harsher than a soft breeze.
“Is it a Werewolf?” Inquired the cathar, instinctively moving his hand towards the grip of his sword under his cloak.
“No,” replied Derek immediately, “it is not a werewolf, it is something else.” He looked apprehensive, but not because he was afraid of this beast. He seemed… concerned.
“Does it matter what it is?” Cried Tina, “It is dangerous and is trying to kill us all! We shouldn’t stay in the open!” She was expressing her sentiments strongly. So much so that everyone else was giving her nods of approval and turning scared to their sides.
“It looks like a werewolf!” Said someone in the crowd, “I say it is one of them!” Exclaimed another one.
“Werewolves come in packs, and this one comes alone.” Derek spoke, interrupting the conversations, “but Tina is right, I should head back home with my daughter. We should all go back home,” he said that taking a long glance at Odric, “you can come with us stranger, if you want.” Odric knew he had no other choice.
…
Derek had a very big, pleasant home and a warm family. Odric didn’t exchange many words with him while they were in the company of his daughter, not even his name. Nonetheless, Derek didn’t seem to mind a man who wanted to keep his secrets, and he introduced the cathar to his wife, who kept their company to talk about amenities. The cathar notice that their daughter was lively, happy and beautiful, despite the traumatic experience she so clearly went through. She also was incredibly fond and caring for her father, something Odric took with a little resentment, since he never had the change of experiencing the same with his son. At one point, Derek’s wife called her daughter to another room, a cue to leave both men alone.
They were sitting close to a fireplace, the flames crackling and spewing their ashes through an opening in the roof. It seemed dangerous to have fire in a house built with straw, but Derek had modified his place in many different ways to ensure the safety of his family. Odric spotted reinforced doors with strong metal locks, window frames with metal bars and multiple weapons into an arm’s reach. There also appeared to be a cellar, given the echoing sound of Odric’s footsteps in the floor. That house was a small stronghold in a tiny village.
“You don’t seem worried about the creature that roams in your village at night,” said the cathar, who still hadn’t introduced himself, moving his hands closer to the fire. Derek was looking directly at the flames for a moment, his hands with a slight tremor while he grabbed a pipe to smoke.
“It was never a problem to our family,” answered the man casually, “I think if it wanted to hurt us it would’ve done it already.”
“The protection you put in your house suggests you believe otherwise,” said the cathar, who could be a bad liar, but also knew when others were not being totally honest themselves.
The ironsmith took a pull at his pipe and looked straight into Odric’s eyes. “There is more than one type of danger in this land, master cathar.” The ex-Commander was savvy enough not to show any surprise at having his identity revealed, though that was the full extent of his cleverness.
“You knew,” grunted Odric.
“I didn’t,” answered Derek, blowing the smoke through his nose and mouth at the same time, “but now I do.” Odric immediately felt like an idiot. Despite knowing that cloak and dagger missions were never his strongest suit, he didn’t expect to fall for such a cheap trick. Seeing the desolated look on the cathar’s face, the ironsmith continued, “don’t beat yourself up over it. I knew from your accent you were foreign, and you walk like a man who knows combat and hides that sword of yours pretty poorly,” concluded Derek with a pointing finger at the side where Odric was keeping his sword safe.
“I could be a soldier, a guard. Even a mercenary.” Replied Odric indicating the man had no reason to guess he was a cathar.
“No guard would risk walking into a land full of zombies and who knows what other abominations at times like this, no.” The shaking on his hands was lighter now. “It takes a man of faith, a man with a mission. And I would never invite a mercenary into my house,” finished Derek, with a soft smile, indicating he had some trust in the exiled cathar.
“Maybe you’re right,” admitted Odric, letting himself relax a bit. “I’ve come here with a mission.”
“I thought that much,” said Derek, waving his pipe in the air, “and what is that?”
“I came to find a guide,” answered the cathar, projecting his body ahead to talk in secrecy, “one that can take me through the Breakneck Ride up until Hollowhenge.” At the mention of that name, Derek flinched as if he had been hit in the stomach.
“You should be careful with that name in here,” pointed Derek, his tremor coming back, “it is an ill omen.”
“You don’t seem to be a man that trusts omens and superstitions,” said Odric, indicating the numberless precautions the ironsmith had taken with the safety of his house once again.
“You don’t understand,” continued Derek, “we’re survivors. We are… we are the remaining citizens of the fallen capital of Avabruck.”
That revelation surprised the cathar. He knew some people had survived the slaughter of the Mondronen pack. He even knew that some tried to rebuild the capital after Avacyn returned, but he wasn’t aware of such a big number of survivors founding a city in Gavony. Welcome to Bruck. Now it made more sense.
“I’m sorry,” Odric finally spoke after a period of silence, rising from his seat. “I didn’t mean to stir old memories.”
“It is understandable master cathar,” the ironsmith spoke in a dismissive tone, also rising from his seat. “We should all go to sleep now, it is late and we don’t know when the creature will come. You’re welcome to stay here through the night, but I don’t believe you will find what you’re looking for.”
Odric nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking how a whole group of people could have crossed the Ulvenwald safely, and what sort of beast was the creature that roamed in that village at night. He had a hunch, but wasn’t totally sure. While the cathar was lost in thoughts, The ironsmith showed him to a place where he could rest. He assured Odric that he would be safe if he stayed inside the house, and the cathar believed him. Nonetheless, sleep through the night wasn’t part of Odric’s plans. Not when he had a monster to take care of.
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
The present. The night before Hunter’s Moon. The city of Bruck.
When Odric joined the Order, his commander said that a cathar without his armor is no better than a naked man. There was no greater truth than that, and Odric felt it from his skin all the way through his bone. Shaggy cloth could hamper the advances of the cold wind, but it would do little in the combat situation he was about to face. The only silver lining was that his newfound nimbleness allowed him to leave unnoticed from the ironsmith house. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
Outside, the Moon was shining bright over the dark sheet of night. There seemed to be no prying eyes coming from the houses, no sign of sound or movement. It was as if the city had been abandoned, living up to the memory of its predecessor – Avabruck – which stood occupied only by monsters and geists for a long time after its fall. This city was much smaller than Avabruck had been, but all of its people appeared to be healthy and strong. It made Odric question how a single monster could keep them in their heels, but he knew the answer to that. These people had lost their houses, their land and their families to the attack of a werewolf pack. It is understandable that they are now just afraid of facing anything at all. It was his duty as a cathar to release them from that fear.
When walking amongst the streets, Odric unsheathed his sword, which shone brighter than ever. The incantation recently renewed made the sword a lethal end for those who lurked in the shadows. He took his careful, calculated steps around the town, as a watchguard making his round. That was something that the master cathar was good at, and he swirled his sword around from time to time to test his muscles. In some particular moments his wrist would make a clicking sound and his shoulder would feel overly strained. That was his age coming, the only certainty in life besides death – old age spares no soul. Despite himself, the ex-Commander wouldn’t let these shortcomings coming in the way of his reckoning.
Looking around, Odric had already made a complete full round over the village, not stumbling with a single person and memorizing the important parts of the terrain. Only a fool enters in a fight without knowledge of the battlefield. Odric had already seen all the small alleys where he would get cornered trying to run for cover, all the places where the ground was too swampy to walk without getting stuck and mentally mapped the village’s topography so he could know where to explore the high-ground advantage. Fighting a monster was not the same as a platoon or an army of organized soldiers, but the Gavony Riders had the most experience in dealing with rebellious mobs and magical threats, and much of the advantages you seek in both scenarios are the same. When completing a second round, Odric noticed he had missed some details: the placing of wagons and carts, spots where it was too dark to fight a foe clearly, places where he could be ambushed from behind. The old age apparently was reaching him in more than just the physical aspect. He would need one more round to be sure.
…
It was hard to place when the first sound came. Odric had been making his rounds while inspecting every detail of the village, and that task alone kept him absorbed for a good deal of time. He wasn’t sure a monster would come, or that there was a monster at all. He knew that for every ten monsters people claimed to see, nine turn out to be a reason for jokes later. The issue was when the tenth one showed up, then there would be nothing to laugh about. That sound confirmed the story was real. For a moment it seemed to be coming from all directions, such was the deafening silence in the town.
It came as a heavy panting of a creature breathing with difficulty, and another dull more distant sound that seemed like muffled footsteps. An impression the cathar had from the sounds was that of exhaustion. He looked around, still not able to place the exact direction of the breathing, which was worrisome. Then, clear as the moon was in the sky, a howl came. It filled the air with its tune making even the neck of the cathar react with goosebumps. The few lights that were still shining inside the houses went out, as everyone appeared to retreat even deeper into the imaginary safety of their homes.
Stretching his neck and moving around with Moonshard in hand, the ex-Commander of the Gavony Riders felt the kick of adrenaline take over his instincts. He always kept his calm, but there was something personal when it came to werewolves and their kind. He swirled his sword around once again, knowing that the creature was now very close. Then he heard a growl, one that was too close for the creature not to be in his field of vision. He looked up and around, until he saw the bulk of something standing on four legs over a thatched rooftop in a nearby house. The fur of the creature shone brightly against the light of the Moon, appearing to be clouded in silver. The eyes were small yellow dots in its lupine face, and once the creature stood on two legs, Odric recognized immediately for what it was: a wolfir.
For a moment there, Odric remained with both hands at his sword, and the creature didn’t move from his still position. It did something stranger – talked to him. “What are you doing in this city?” Asked the Wolfir, his voice a mix of human and animal, almost too beastly to be understood.
“I’m Odric, master cathar, and I’m here to kill the monster who terrorizes this village at night.”
“Go back to where you came from cathar Odric,” said the wolfir breathing heavily. It appeared to be almost exhausted. “I protect this city from the monsters, not you”.
“You are the one scaring them,” said the cathar, knowing that had to be the case. “You are the one who needs to go.”
The wolfir growled again, and bared his fangs. “I said leave. Thraben’s watchdogs aren’t welcome here. This is a last warning.”
“Who gave you the authority to decide?” Asked Odric, holding his blade higher.
“The people of this city did,” answered the wolfir, “I’m the mayor of Avabruck.”
That revelation took Odric by surprise. The mayor of Avabruck was a werewolf, that he knew. He did not know that he was converted into an wolfir during the Cursemute, much less that he was still watching his citizens. That got him distracted, and the mayor took advantage of it. The big wolfir jumped from the rooftop onto the ground, his strong muscular limbs holding the impact. The cathar immediately assumed a defensive stance, while the wolfir started circling him on four legs, threatening an attack. That was when the ex-Commander noticed something else.
“You’re bleeding,” spoke Odric, furrowing his brow, “you’re hurt.”
“You weren’t my first problem tonight,” the creature started feinting attacks, and Odric moved his sword around accordingly, not biting the trap. The blood dripping from the silver fur of the wolfir left marks on the ground. On a fair fight, Odric probably couldn’t deal with the creature speed, strength and agility, but that didn’t seem a fair fight. The mayor was tired and hurt, and despite his threats, he didn’t seem to be attacking with deadly intent.
“What did you do? Who did you kill?!” Odric shouted, moving in a way to avoid getting cornered. The creature stayed silent, eyes locked in the cathar’s blade. “Answer me damn it!” Cryed Odric lunging forward, and the creature had to backpedal not to get hurt.
“I fought two strayed werewolves,” answered the wolfir, ceasing his attacks for a moment. “They were coming from Ulvenwald to this city, and they would murder anything in their sight.”
Odric stopped moving as well, noticing that the bleeding on the wolfir was coming from around the neck and one of its legs. It did seem like bite marks. He took a deep breath, staring coldly in the wolfir’s eyes and remembering Alicia, remembering the misjudgings he gave to the monsters. Finally, he moved his sword back to its sheath. “You’re not my enemy.”
The wolfir rose on two legs, which made him at least three heads taller than the cathar, but he still did not attack again. “I am not your friend either. You have to leave the city.”
“I have no intention of staying,” replied the cathar, “I talked to one of the villagers, Derek, the ironsmith, that I came seeking for a guide. He said before I left his house that no one would be able to help me.”
The wolfir’s eyes widened. “You were at Derek’s house and left? Did you leave the door open?”
The cathar couldn’t understand why the question was relevant. “I didn’t locked it, just closed it. Why is that import-”
Before finishing his sentence, Odric heard another growl that made him interrupt himself. He turned his head around and saw the biggest werewolf he had ever seen. It was standing on four legs at the end of the street, its muscles were large and inflated, his trunk almost twice the size of the wolfir’s. It was showing its fangs and the eyes had no recognizable human traits. And then he understood. That was Derek.
The mayor of Avabruck moved to stand between Odric and the transformed ironsmith, growling to the werewolf.
“Get back cathar,” the wolfir said, “he has murderous intent.”
“You can’t expect to win a fight against him,” Odric replied, "you're already harmed."
“No, but I can expect to stall him until sunrise.”
The ex-Commander was about to say something else when the werewolf moved forward, running on his four limbs at a frightening speed. Time slowed down for Odric when he realized what was happening in the village: Derek turned his house into a small fortress because of himself, not because of the wolfir. He feared for the safety of his family in case he transformed again. His wife and his daughter… it was him who had hurt his own daughter. The mayor of Avabruck was protecting his town from the monsters, not terrorizing them. Derek must have tried to follow Odric to see what was happening and fell prey to the pull of the transformation under the influence of the Moon. In the end, it was all Odric’s fault.
The werewolf quickly covered the ground between him and the others. His fangs and claws were pointed at the silverpelted wolfir, who dodged his attack at the last moment. However, the mayor was too tired and hurt to keep up with his foe, and he lost balance falling into the ground. The werewolf was already turning around and rising his paw, ready to strike again. Odric intervened swinging with Moonshard in an arc, aiming for the werewolve’s legs. The creature moved away from the strike, showing incredible reflexes as well.
“We will not last until sunrise,” Odric spoke, already including himself in the fight against the gigantic werewolf.
“We have to.” Growled the wolfir getting back into his feet. Not waiting for another attack, the wolfir jumped at Derek, his teeth sinking into the neck of the creature for a brief moment before the werewolf grabbed him by the side and threw him on the ground. Derek’s massive bulk immediately immobilized the wolfir, and if Odric didn’t strike back with Moonshard to make him retreat, the mayor would’ve been dead now. No villagers were showing up to give the cathar and the wolfir a fighting chance. The doors and windows were shut, fear holding everyone back.
“We have to move,” said Odric, “we can’t win against him head on.”
“You’re right,” agreed the mayor, panting with effort, “we can’t.” The wolfir had barely finished speaking these last words when he sprang on four legs passing right onto the side of Derek, dodging his claws by a hair’s breadth. His sudden movement managed to call the attention of the creature, who quickly ran after in pursuit. They were going towards Ulvenwald. The mayor, leading the chase, was trying to take the monster away from the village. Odric wouldn’t be capable of keeping up on foot with the speed of the lupine creatures, but he could follow their tracks. The marks of blood left a clear trail for the master cathar, but he feared getting to them too late to do anything.
He saw Ulvenwald spreading in size ahead of him. The forest had a menacing aspect, and the cathar knew some of the stories about it. That was the lair of geists, dryads, werewolves and other forgotten spirits of nature. From the distance, some spots from the forest appeared to shine brightly. They were the fire of apparitions, the geistflames, and a traveler who followed them was bound to get lost in the woods. Odric was trying to take in all that he could while trailing behind the marks of the werewolf and the wolfir. He saw that, at the very least, the mayor was able to get into the forest before his chaser got to him.
There were cracked branches of birch and maple tree in the edge of the forest, and the sound of growls was intensifying. It was the night before Hunter’s Moon, and that forest was plagued with more than just one werewolf. Odric moved around, his sword still reflecting the moon’s light, and the mixing sounds of the forest were getting to him. He heard the hoots of owls and the howls of the wind shuffling between the leaves. His heavy breathing from the sprint made it hard for him to firm his hands around the sword, and he moved unsteadily not knowing if he should go deeper into the forest.
A sound came to his side, and the cathar quickly turned in a fighting stance. The lupine head of the mayor wolfir emerged from between the bushes, making him relax a little. That only lasted a moment though, because the head came rolling detached from its body. The silver aspect of the fur was gone, and the yellow red eyes were opaque in death. A growl came from behind the trees, and the massive creature that Derek had turned into appeared in clear sight. His muzzle was bloodied, and he licked around its mouth tasting the wolfir’s blood. Odric looked at that creature and kept his stance, his hands getting steadier now. He remembered the night he faced his first werewolf, the night he lost his son.
A realization came to him alongside the memories. Odric remembered why he fought. He remembered that, despite his doubts, his shaking beliefs, he still had to compromise. He had to do the best to protect the people, because that was his duty as a cathar. The mayor of Avabruck was cursed as a werewolf, but then he was blessed with forgiveness, and for his people he fought until his death. Every Hunter’s Moon he would show up to keep the werewolves far from the village. He did it despite being now considered a monster, feared by his own fellow citizens. He did it because it was the right thing to do. The angels might be turning their back on the people, but he would not. The certainty of his mission rushed inside him, filling him with reassurance.
Derek stared back at him, red eyes aglow, and growled right before moving to attack. The cathar readied his blade.
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
Would you like to read Commander stories? Check my latest stories, coming from Lorwyn and Innistrad: Ghoulcaller Gisa and Doran, The Siege Tower! If you like my writing, ask me to write something for your commander as well!
I'm much too dumb to really be able to afford literary feedback but I'll do what I can stylistically. First block only, too much to do in a single sitting.
Probably better to use [i]destination[/i] here. Destiny feels way too dramatic.
... in its downward path...
Probably better to use [i]on[/i] here.
... who road...
Incorrect homophone; best switch to [i]rode[/i] here.
That though...
Probably better to use [i]The thought...[/i].
... only to find an empty space.
Something doesn't click. Maybe [i]but found nothing.[/i]? Or [i]only to find nothing.[/i]?
... gazing unsteadily the wagon...
Missing "at" for the verb "gazing". [i]gazing unsteadily at the wagon[/i].
... would show welcoming...
Why not [i]would have shown[/i]? Fits better.
... closed shut.
Those two words in the context are synonymous. Ditch one of them, or substitute for perhaps an adverb. [i]tightly shut[/i]?
... reading his...
Misspelled. [i]readying his[/i].
*insert last two sentences here
Something here is off.
... other sentry.
You're referring to the original one we met, [i]first sentry[/i] fits better.
... his cloak off revealing...
Incorrect homophone; switch to [i]his cloak off, revealing[/i]. Inserted a missing comma for better reading, which ties to the next part...
... middle aged man, with an...
This. The comma here reads poorly. Adding the comma in the previous section makes it more unnecessary. Keep as [i]middle aged man with an[/i]
... guard taking a long glance at the enormous wood box that was...
Insert missing comma for better reading, change adjective. [i]guard, taking a long glance at the enormous wooden box that was[/i]
... was the answer of the conductor, looking straight into the guard’s eyes.
Due to the part after the comma, it reads better when changed to [i]answered the conductor, looking straight into the guard's eyes.[/i]
... eyes were transfigured...
Why "transfigured"? What did they change into? Did you mean perhaps "transfixed"?
... cornered, small, a little mouse in front of...
If you want to keep this as a single sentence a semi-colon will do nicely here. [i]cornered, small; a little mouse in front of[/i]
... firmed his grasp...
Is firming actually a verb? If so this is fine, but I feel something else would work better. [i]steadied his grip[/i], perhaps?
No matter how deep it was his fear, he couldn’t let that strange man...
"It" is unnecessary and "was" is misplaced. Also, because of how it's described, "visceral" sounds more appropriate. Try [i]No matter how visceral his fear was, he couldn't let this strange man[/i]
... dizziness on his head.
Dizziness can't be located elsewhere. [i]dizziness[/i] alone should suffice.
... figure of the man...
The second part feels redundant. [i]Figure[/i] alone should suffice.
... the guard Duncan, quickly raising...
Something about the first bit is off. I'm unsure what the best way to phrase it might be. Second part should be "rising", because Duncan is the one moving into an upright position; he's not taking something else and moving it upwards. I'd suggest [i]Duncan, the guard quickly rising[/i].
... trying to understand if it was all a dream.
This part is unclear. If you're trying to say that Duncan attempted to decide whether at that moment he was dreaming, it's fine. However, it feels more natural for him to try and decide if the whole thing with the wagon was the dream, and in that case, [i]trying to understand if it had all been a dream.[/i] will do better.
... guard raised himself....
Same as before. [i]guard rose[/i] should suffice.
... again when hearing this.
If you want to keep "when", this doesn't feel right due to tense stuff. [i]again when he heard this.[/i] works better.
However, if you want to keep "hearing", go with [b}again upon hearing this[/i]
... of questions and focused...
Due to sentence length and how the tense changes, a comma helps smooth the transition. Go with [i]of questions, and focused[/i]
... moved around from the...
"Around" here is unnecessary. [i]moved from the[/i] should suffice.
Was the man dangerous?
Considering how they are now considering this in spite of having let him through, perhaps [i]Was the man dangerous after all?[/i] fits better.
“That man… yes, he was dangerous” replied Duncan tripping on the words, as if hit by a sudden revelation, “he was Master Cathar Odric, the Heretic”.
The second part says something that the dialogue doesn't. I suggest [i]"T-that, that man... y-yes, he is, he's dangerous!"[/i]. I understand that it makes initial reading a little clumsier but that's the effect you're going for, no?
I'm much too dumb to really be able to afford literary feedback but I'll do what I can stylistically. First block only, too much to do in a single sitting.
Hey man, first and foremost, thanks. Really, it takes a lot not only to sit through the story, but also to help with positioning of commas and other details. I will say in advance that a few of the things you quoted I actually wrote in the wrong form and didn't catch it when revising, after a while you do get tunnel vision, but most of the critiques were quite helpful. I will try to address one by one.
I believe you're referring to the "Friend or foe?" question. The idea was just to add that no foe would actually reveal his identity to this question, but I will see if I can restructure.
Why "transfigured"? What did they change into? Did you mean perhaps "transfixed"?
I believe the idea here was transfigured, originally. It was to indicate that his look had changed (from whatever it was before to terror), but since this wasn't clear from context, I will change to transfixed.
Is firming actually a verb? If so this is fine, but I feel something else would work better. steadied his grip, perhaps?
"To firm" is indeed a verb in english, heh. I'm brazilian, so I had to check, but it sounds better to me than "steadied". It may be strange for english natives, but I don't know...
No matter how deep it was his fear, he couldn’t let that strange man...
"It" is unnecessary and "was" is misplaced. Also, because of how it's described, "visceral" sounds more appropriate. Try No matter how visceral his fear was, he couldn't let this strange man
The second part feels redundant. Figure alone should suffice.
Well, since I'm using 'figure' as a synonym for 'form' it doesn't feel that redundant to me. It would be like saying 'the cloaked form of the man', whereas just 'the cloaked form' let's you asking: 'form or what?'. Maybe 'figure' is a more independent word than 'form', but still this passage doesn't bother me that much.
Something about the first bit is off. I'm unsure what the best way to phrase it might be. Second part should be "rising", because Duncan is the one moving into an upright position; he's not taking something else and moving it upwards. I'd suggest Duncan, the guard quickly rising.
I didn't realize this difference of 'raise something' x 'rising yourself'. It makes sense, I will fix it.
This part is unclear. If you're trying to say that Duncan attempted to decide whether at that moment he was dreaming, it's fine. However, it feels more natural for him to try and decide if the whole thing with the wagon was the dream, and in that case, trying to understand if it had all been a dream. will do better.
You're right, my intention was the latter. I will fix it.
If you want to keep "when", this doesn't feel right due to tense stuff. again when he heard this. works better.
However, if you want to keep "hearing", go with again upon hearing this
It does sound better 'upon hearing'. I will change it.
Considering how they are now considering this in spite of having let him through, perhaps Was the man dangerous after all? fits better.
The 'after all' here would imply that they thought he was a dangerous at first, when that is not what I'm going for in here. At first they sentry would think he was strange, potentially someone with bad intentions, but not really 'dangerous'. They will think that when seeing Duncan's face, clearly nervous because he had done so.
“That man… yes, he was dangerous” replied Duncan tripping on the words, as if hit by a sudden revelation, “he was Master Cathar Odric, the Heretic”.
The second part says something that the dialogue doesn't. I suggest "T-that, that man... y-yes, he is, he's dangerous!". I understand that it makes initial reading a little clumsier but that's the effect you're going for, no?
Phew, all done. Hope these are useful. I like these stories, keep it up Ashiok. Style stuff aside, this felt like a good introduction.
Edit: Dammit, what happened to the formatting? ;_;
Thanks man, really. It was an amazing job. I really would have liked to know more of what you thought of the story itself though, at least if you feel that it fits the mood of Innistrad. But really, thanks! And I believe your formatting went haywire because of some typo, but I honestly can't find it myself.
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I do what I can. Seen your links for a while now and just hadn't taken the time to read them, but I'm glad I did!
Everything you've got so far does make me feel like it's happening on Innistrad. I think Odric was a good choice, and for example the vampire confrontation (both physical and conversational) works well and drives the innistradi feel home. Ending is particularly chilling.
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I do what I can. Seen your links for a while now and just hadn't taken the time to read them, but I'm glad I did!
Everything you've got so far does make me feel like it's happening on Innistrad. I think Odric was a good choice, and for example the vampire confrontation (both physical and conversational) works well and drives the innistradi feel home. Ending is particularly chilling.
Thanks man, your feedback is really appreciated.
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I think this is well done, and the image of Odric feeding Olivia Voldaren's character (that's how I saw her anyways) was pretty cool. Shows a twist of morality that seems to haunt Innistrad, which is great. Dynamite Private hit almost all of the grammatical errors that I noticed as well.
What is the Accursed Relic and why is Odric looking for it? That doesn't seem to be hinted at anywhere leading up to the story and I was a bit taken aback by that. I felt like 'Here we are, understanding that a monster isn't any more monstrous than I am (good perspective shift, by the by) and now I'm going to go figure out the truth of why my squad was slaughtered. Oh, we should grab a relic too while we're at it.' I thought that Odric was going to make an alliance with Alicia and they were going to either root out corruption or otherwise instigate a sweet twist of morality, later figuring out that the Bishops were actually innocent and that Odric had made a mistake and that the vampire had twisted him to become the very thing he despised.
Why is Odric a heretic? From what I recollect from the Innistrad storyline, he was actually pretty devout. I can't remember all the way, though, so that could just be me.
Also, will you be tying in any of the new vorthos from Shadows over Innistrad? Odric was recently spoiled as the commander of the Gavony armies, or something like that, and this story kinda depicts him as a villainous or hard-nosed neutral to the religious institution that dominates the land. And the angels going mad and slaughtering the people of Innistrad would figure in the story pretty dramatically as well.
I don't really like reading your stories because I confuse them with the official magic story I confused your version of Ugin finding out about the Gatewatch killing Ulamog and Kozilek with the official version at least twice. Great job, continue writing
Thank you very much for your feedback! I will keep doing what I can to deliver good magic stories, I really like writing about fantasy worlds, and it gets easier when the worlds are already built.
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I think this is well done, and the image of Odric feeding Olivia Voldaren's character (that's how I saw her anyways) was pretty cool. Shows a twist of morality that seems to haunt Innistrad, which is great. Dynamite Private hit almost all of the grammatical errors that I noticed as well.
What is the Accursed Relic and why is Odric looking for it? That doesn't seem to be hinted at anywhere leading up to the story and I was a bit taken aback by that. I felt like 'Here we are, understanding that a monster isn't any more monstrous than I am (good perspective shift, by the by) and now I'm going to go figure out the truth of why my squad was slaughtered. Oh, we should grab a relic too while we're at it.' I thought that Odric was going to make an alliance with Alicia and they were going to either root out corruption or otherwise instigate a sweet twist of morality, later figuring out that the Bishops were actually innocent and that Odric had made a mistake and that the vampire had twisted him to become the very thing he despised.
Why is Odric a heretic? From what I recollect from the Innistrad storyline, he was actually pretty devout. I can't remember all the way, though, so that could just be me.
Also, will you be tying in any of the new vorthos from Shadows over Innistrad? Odric was recently spoiled as the commander of the Gavony armies, or something like that, and this story kinda depicts him as a villainous or hard-nosed neutral to the religious institution that dominates the land. And the angels going mad and slaughtering the people of Innistrad would figure in the story pretty dramatically as well.
Most of your questions will be answered in this very story (the new entries that will be coming soon). The Accursed Relic is something I made up, but it will tie with the current story they're telling, don't worry. You will find out, more or less, why the slaughter happened. Remember that there was a 2 month gap between the events, a lot of things took place in this time. Odric was never called an Heretic in the official story, I called him so and you will also understand more why, soon.
The only thing I can answer without any mystery is that I chose Odric for my story without knowing what would happen with him in SOI. Depending on the characterization he gets, I can find an easy way to make my story merge with the official one, but they may also go to a complete different route and then my story would be more a "what if?". One thing that I will say is that Part 2 and Part 3 will follow a similar vein of Part 1, and the most important here isn't exactly what is the Accursed Relic (though you will understand what it is), but something else, that I will tell you once all the entries are released.
As always, thank you very much for reading! Despite not answering everything you said, I hope you got curious enough to read the next parts of the story that I will release shortly.
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Same as before. Some without context might look identical but considering the text around them I feel fit/work better.
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He was riding for hours
He had been riding for hours
pressing on the shoulders
Pressing on his shoulders
to admit, but he was an old man.
to admit it, but he was an old man now.
a durable ride like this
a lengthy/long/prolonged ride like this (assuming durable misused referring to duration)
Now he could only think on a warm meal and a soft bed.
Now he could only think of a warm meal and soft bed. (assuming that Odric's idle thoughts always come to the same images)
Now a warm meal and soft bed were his only thoughts. (assuming Odric's ONLY thinking of this and little else)
was once again a complete failure.
had once again been a complete failur.
wasn’t concerned
hadn't been concerned
of mounting Whitesnow, his stallion, bringing
at mounting Whitesnow, his stallion, and bringing / at riding on Whiteswnow his stallion, and bringing
How thankful he was to hear the
How thankful he had been to hear the
the alchemist, the perfect
the alchemist - the perfect (hyphen/dash works better than comma here)
However, now he feared to be placing the lives of his men into unnecessary danger.
However, now he feared he had placed the lives of his men in unnecessary danger.
Avacyn spread her power
Avacyn had spread her power
almost at full gallop speed
galloping at almost full speed
of meeting
of knowing/of commanding/of working with (not an error but it feels better given who this is referring to)
dangerous even to
dangerous, even to
implying Grete?
implying, Grete?
their strongest arms in Innistrad
their strongest at arms in Innistrad
their strongest branches in Innistrad
(either can work but former implies that the Gavony Riders are among the best in combat specifically, while the latter implies that there are other groups like the Gavony Riders and that the Riders are strong amongst all those groups)
what their commandos
what his commandos
the vampires as well,
those blasted vampires as well! (gives a little more zeal to Ulrich's dialogue)
on the good will of the Church was his
of the good will of the Church was both his
I'm saying something doesn't
I'm just saying, something doesn't fit
all of the best members of the riders to join on this lead, and we were driven far off course from any cathar watchpost, inside the vampire grounds
all the best members of the Riders follow up on this lead. We have been driven off course, far from any cathar watchpost, inside vampire territory. (assuming Riders keeps referring to their title)
can only move back to Thraben crossing these
the only way back to Thraben is through these
consideration burned
considerations burned
corner the riders
Riders (see above - still a title)
a liability, and add to that the frustration of the failed trip and the fatigue of a long day’s ride, it all made it too easy to justify an attack.
A liability. Adding the frustration at the failed trip and fatigue of a long day's ride made it all too easy to justify an attack.
There was also the
Even beyond that, there was the (gives emphasis to how much Odric trusts in this)
but nothing will keep you from becoming werewolf food if you ignore your instincts on Innistrad
but ignoring your instincts on Innistrad was a sure way to become werewolf food. (smoother)
this as well, we are too exposed on this grounds, let’s go back to Kessig and pursuit
this either. We are too exposed on these grounds. Let's go back to Kessig and pursue
for the bless of Avacyn,
blessed Avacyn (works better)
it was Ulrich
protested Ulrich
When we get back
By the time we get back
struggling with
struggling against
his head
its head (assuming you still refer to the creature)
see with the corner of his eye
see from the corner of his eye
grabbing to the walls
clinging to the walls
to fast
too fast
hindering the movements
hindering their movements
the vampire skin as if it were made of straw, and the
vampire skin as if it were made of straw. The
the vampire's skin as if it were made of straw. The
(either works)
while his body burst
as its body burst
the bloodlust bastards
the bloodlusted bastards
If they were in even numbers
Had they been even in numbers
Had they not been outnumbered
they had the terrain, the surprise and the numbers
they had numbers, the element of surprise, and favorable terrain
side, and the riders
side. The Riders
end there was just
end, it was just
end, there were just
(either is fine, I prefer the first)
circled by the monsters
encircled by the monsters
surrounded by the monsters
(either is fine, I prefer the second
all other
all the other
lying above puddles
lying on puddles of blood
lying on pools of blood
(prefer the second)
his mouth
its mouth
when saying that
as she said that
retaliate putting more
retaliate and put more
end with you now.
end you now.
vampire direction
vampire's direction
jumped as strong as he
jumped as hard as he
without a reaction
without reacting
remembers hearing
could hear
on the mountainside, her bodya taking most
into the mountainside. Her body took most
but with still enough damage remaining
but enough force was left
air of his lungs
air in his lungs
He had fell inside a valley
He had fallen inside a valley
Gathering all the willpower he had remaining,
Mustering/Gathering all his remaining willpower,
Mustering/Gathering what willpower he had left,
(either is fine)
until Moonshard
towards Moonshard
until he reached Moonshard
to get himself
to drag himself
many bones of her body
many bones in her body
many of her body's bones
interrupted himself
stopped himself
interrupted his movement
voice indicating
voice, indicating
make out of this
make it out of this
was able to reply
managed to reply (it's actually fine but this reads better)
as much or even more than
as much as, or even more than,
their filthy and excrements
their filth and excrements
their filthy excrements
(either works)
cough access
coughing fit (well the original could be fine, just never ever heard/read it before)
and looked at
then looked at
what was remaining of his blood to flow
what remained of his blood flow
answered him
he answered
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Phew.
You ever considered posting this to a dedicated fiction archive/site like FF.net?
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Same as before. Some without context might look identical but considering the text around them I feel fit/work better.
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*things*
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Phew.
You ever considered posting this to a dedicated fiction archive/site like FF.net?
Hey man, to make it easier this time, I will mostly adress things in a general way, pinpointing the few ones that I find important:
- I used "the shoulders" because I had used "his armor" not so long ago, and I wanted to avoid repetition.
- The fact that he feels old now, as oppose to when he was younger, seems clear due to context.
- Thanks, I forgot to check if 'durable' had the same meaning I thought it had.
- Thanks for on/of thing about the meal and the soft bed, but the distinction you made there seems curious to me. I think "he could only of something" implies that the person can't think of nothing else already, because that 'something' would be their only thoughts.
- I took the suggestion of the hyphen, and adjusted the 'of' in Whitesnow for the 'at'.
- I took the advice on "had placed the lives", it does sound better than "to be placing". Full gallop speed sounds better to me than galloping at full speed, heh.
- I took the advice on Grete (changed to knowing), I meant to say Odric thought she was a fierce warrior, even before commanding her. Also the comma on 'even to him' was a nice addition, and 'implying, Grete' as well.
- "Branch" in the sense that you're using, I believe can also be used as "arm", in the sense of a "division" or "departament" (like the Gavony Riders).
- Should have been "his" commandos, that was a mistake.
- Heh, I like the 'blasted vampires as well'. I will add it. Also fixed "conviction on". Apparently you can only have "conviction of" something, indeed.
- I kept "I'm saying something doesn't fit", because there is a slight difference in that and "I'm just saying, something doesn't fit" (the latter is more soft while the former is more determined).
- I took your changes on Grete's dialogue and the "Riders" thing.
- Thanks for the "werewolf food" modification, I was struggling to make that passage sound better and I think yours does look much smoother.
- I took a lof your suggestions, but not the 'by the time' to avoid repetition with 'night time' that follows up. I used 'after we get back' instead.
- Struggling with is valid (as is struggling against), checked on the collocation dictionary.
- Took a bunch of another suggestions, but I will keep 'the terrain, the surprise and the numbers', because the way these things are advantages were already explained in the text and I don't need to be that explicit about it.
- Enough force was left, very nice (took most of the suggestions up until this point). Took a bunch of more suggestions, and then "as much as, or even then" sounds weird. I changed for "just as much or even more".
- Alright, took a lot more suggestions and finished, haha. Thanks man, one thing I want to point out: in the beggining you suggested the change of some passages from the Past Simple to the Past Perfect, and I saw no real reason for that. If you want to exlain why, I can changed it later, but both look possible and I went with past simple because it sounded better to me.
To be honest: no, I never thought about writing for a dedicated fanfiction site. I really enjoy writing these little pieces here, and I'm happy with that for now. Maybe if more people seem to like what I write I can start to do so, thanks for the advice! Sorry for taking a while to answer as well, but checking the corrections is also a lot of work, hehe.
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No problem, it took me more than a day to get it done as well. I'll admit that I'm a little burnt out from it, haha, so uh, the next one probably won't happen in a while.
I've read it again and it's smoother now.
Regarding the Past Perfect thing, it's just that I've always interpreted it(that's how I was taught) as being used for things that happened in the past, but before a specific moment also in the past that is nonetheless after the event that's being described (crud it sounds super awkward describing it without a timeline).
For example, regarding the "How thankful he was to hear" part. I suggested changing it to "How thankful he had been to hear" because Odric is, at the moment when the sentence comes up, riding with his group.
"How thankful he was to hear" makes it sound like he's hearing about the call to catch Ludevic either at that moment while riding and is thankful about that; or he's thankful all the time for hearing about this.
"How thankful he had been to hear" on the other hand makes it explicit that hearing about the call to catch Ludevic happened before the current time in the story, and that it was then (in the past), that he felt gratitude because it meant he could ditch his desk.
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RIP Magic Duels. Wizards will regret what they did to you.
No problem, it took me more than a day to get it done as well. I'll admit that I'm a little burnt out from it, haha, so uh, the next one probably won't happen in a while.
I've read it again and it's smoother now.
Regarding the Past Perfect thing, it's just that I've always interpreted it(that's how I was taught) as being used for things that happened in the past, but before a specific moment also in the past that is nonetheless after the event that's being described (crud it sounds super awkward describing it without a timeline).
For example, regarding the "How thankful he was to hear" part. I suggested changing it to "How thankful he had been to hear" because Odric is, at the moment when the sentence comes up, riding with his group.
"How thankful he was to hear" makes it sound like he's hearing about the call to catch Ludevic either at that moment while riding and is thankful about that; or he's thankful all the time for hearing about this.
"How thankful he had been to hear" on the other hand makes it explicit that hearing about the call to catch Ludevic happened before the current time in the story, and that it was then (in the past), that he felt gratitude because it meant he could ditch his desk.
Yes, that is how it is used generally. I will check the Odric example you gave again, because if that was the case for all the times you suggest this modifcation then you're right, it should be past perfect. What I thought it was happening was that you were suggesting the changes based on the fact that someone in the past (since the story takes place in the past) was recollecting things from an even more remote past. But the thing is: the person in the story is living the present, despite that being the flashback of a past moment. I hope this was clear, not sure I made it clear enough lol.
I do believe that in the example you gave both cases could apply: "How thankful he was to hear" would only mean that he had been thankful to hear that news at the moment that he heard it. I may be wrong, of course, and I will check it again later. And please, don't worry about correcting everything! I know it is a lot of effort.
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Updated the story with two new installments! Keep following Odric, I will do my best to tie this story with the main story from SOI (even though it looks like it can't, I already thought in a way).
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I must say that Jay's article on Innistrad in the Archive Trap was fundamental for the accomplishment of this story, and I really suggest everyone to go read it as a nice way to understand better the lore. Please, don't shy from feedback, it is really important.
The present. A week before Hunter’s Moon.
The wagon approached its destination, wheels reeling under the heavy weight of the wood box it was carrying. The gates of Thraben stood tall on the horizon, reinforced oak wood surrounded by some dozens of feet of solid stone walls, reflecting the shining sun on its downward path towards the horizon. The cloaked figure who rode the wagon admired that structure once more, the same walls and gates he defended so many times before, now completely alienated from him. That though brought his mind to dark places, and he moved his hand to reach Avacyn’s collar locked around his neck… only to find nothing. It was no longer with him.
Sentries moved on their posts, gazing unsteadily at the lonely wagon that approached on the road. Not so long ago, they would have shown welcoming, composed faces, because peace had spread its arms across the land of Innistrad. Now they pointed their ballistas to the conductor and kept the door of the gates tightly shut. Peace had lost its grip. “Who goes there?” Asked one of the sentries, readying his weapon to shoot darts on sight, “friend or foe?” Pressed the man, as if a foe would feel compelled to reveal his identity due to his question.
“Friend,” answered the cloaked figure with a hoarse voice, pulling the reigns of his horse to make the animal stop its march. “I’ve come to deliver offerings to the church.” The sentry didn’t look convinced, so he made a hand sign and not long after that another guard showed up exiting a side-entrance to one of the watchtowers. The guard carried a heavy halberd and looked even more unfriendly than the first sentry. He approached the wagon as if the ground was about to crack open and swallow him whole, which was not unheard of.
“Remove your hood, traveler. An honest man doesn’t hide his face.” The conductor of the wagon hesitated for a moment, and then took off his cloak, revealing the battered face of a middle-aged man with an incredibly long beard streaked of grey patches. His hair was almost totally white, even though he certainly wasn’t an elder yet. “What do you bring to our city?” Asked the guard, taking a long glance at the enormous wooden box that was being carried by the wagon “what is inside the box?”
“Offerings to the church, as I said” replied the conductor.
“Open it up,” ordered the guard, moving the point of his Halberd down towards the box.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” answered the conductor, looking straight into the guard’s eyes. “It can’t be exposed to the sun.”
Shivers moved through the spine of the guard, who immediately moved the point of his weapon towards the conductor. “What do you mean?” The man’s eyes were transfixed, bulging from their orbits “Is there some foul beast in there?! Some evil token or tainted charm?!” The man was starting to raise his voice “Are you going to curse-“
“It is just fresh paintings” came the answer from the man with a hoarse voice, “no charms, tokens or beasts, but fresh paintings of the bishop and other figures of the clergy. The sun will ruin the drying process.”
The guard stood silent for a while, as if processing the information, but not moving one inch out of the way of the wagon.
“Look, I can open it for you,” started the conductor “but if I do so I will have to explain to the bishop who were the ones responsible for causing any lasting damage”. The guard paid heed to those words, but still didn’t move from his position. There was… something emanating from that wood box. He couldn’t explain with words, but despite all his training he felt the need to drop his weapon and run for shelter. He felt cornered, small; a little mouse in front of a dangerous predator. He firmed his grasp on the pole of his weapon, and gulped. No matter how visceral was his fear, he couldn’t let this strange man enter the gates of Thraben carrying that.
“I can’t let you-“ the man was about to finish his sentence when he was struck by a strange dizziness. The air seemed to grow heavier, and for a moment he felt as if couldn’t control his mouth or arms. He tried to move, or to speak, but all his movements felt wrong, as if his body was lagging behind his will. Everything went dark for a second, and then he opened his eyes. The cloaked figure of the man was gone. In fact, the road itself was gone and he was inside his quarters with the other guards, sitting over a table.
“Hey, Duncan!” Said one of the guards “I asked for you to grab another torch, this one is almost completely burnt.”
“What happened?” Asked the guard Duncan, quickly rising from his table and looking over to the sides “Where is he? Where is the man with the box?” babbled Duncan, aggravated, trying to understand if it had been all a dream.
“What man?” Replied with a question one of his confused colleagues.
“I was outside, and there was a man in a wagon with a box!” Repeated the guard, “he was talking about offers to the church, but it felt wrong and dangerous and-“
Duncan stopped talking when another guard rose, staring directly at him. It was the sentry who had him go down to meet with the cloaked man. “What are you saying Duncan? You said that the man was clean, and he could pass,” there was a long pause, where everyone was staring at him “we let him through.”
The sentry Duncan almost felt dizzy again upon hearing this. He didn’t understand what happened or how it happened, but his agitated state made him move towards one of the embrasures on the wall. It was night time, stars covering the sky.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the chattering sounds of his colleagues asking him a bunch of questions, and focused on the memories he could gather from the scene. Nothing new came to mind, except for one other feeling that was hidden below the deep cover of crushing fear that he felt near the box. The feeling of unsettling familiarity.
He knew the face of that conductor. Duncan moved from the quarters towards the bookkeeping room, where they kept the register of all officers and important figures. There, in a painting that was about to be removed from room, left on a corner leaning on the wall, he saw the face of the man in the wagon.
“What happened Duncan? Was the man dangerous?” Asked one of the many sentries that followed him to the room during what seemed to be a nervous breakdown.
“T-That man… y-yes, he's dangerous” replied Duncan tripping on the words, as if hit by a sudden revelation, “he was Master Cathar Odric, the Heretic”.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Odric stretched his neck and adjusted his posture. He was riding for hours, and the heavy weight of his armor was pressing on the shoulders, with the chainmail biting the skin through his shirt. He didn’t want to admit, but he was an old man. Long gone were the times where he could sustain a prolonged ride like this and think of nothing but the completion of his task. Now he could only think of a warm meal and a soft bed.
His riders were dispirited as well. There was a soft rain coming from the clouds formed in Stensia, the sort of rain that does not help grow the crops or fill up the wells, just soak the men and women in its path, washing down their moods as it washes the land. Their chase after Ludevic was once again a complete failure. Initially Odric wasn’t concerned about the possibility of not finding the necro-alchemist, but as he kept following the leads, it seemed that nobody really knew where he was. The constant sights of ghouls and skaabs were the main reason for false reports, which led the Commander of the Gavony Riders to pursue shadows and rumors.
Odric hated the life of sitting on a chair. He was eager for a chance at mounting Whitesnow, his stallion, and bringing the mad man Ludevic to the justice of Avacyn. How thankful he was to hear the convocation to follow a strong lead on the alchemist - the perfect excuse for him to abandon his desk position. However, now he feared he had placed the lives of his men into unnecessary danger. Avacyn spread her power across the land, wiping most werewolves, making the vampires retreat and the ghouls shamble back to the abominable grounds that spawned them, but Innistrad was still a perilous place. That feeling was amplified now that they were crossing Getander Pass, the only way from Kessig to Stensia, and the last reported sight of Ludevic and his abominations. They were retreating now, almost at full gallop speed, but the treacherous mountain ground held their progress at bay.
“I don’t like this” spoke Grete, second in command and one of the fiercest warriors Odric ever had the pleasure of knowing. “Why would Ludevic walk through the vampire highlands? This place is dangerous, even to him.”
“What are you implying, Grete?” Asked another of Odric’s riders, Vanessa.
“That we were led to a trap,” replied Grete, who was not well-known for beating around the bush. “Someone wanted us to come here.”
“Nonsense,” intervened Ulrich, one of the most loyal and faithful riders in Odric’s company. “The report came from high-ranking members of our Holy Church. They would not spread folly rumors like immature youngsters, nor would they have anything to gain in laying a trap for one of their strongest arms in Innistrad, the Gavony Riders.” Odric remained silent, listening to what his commandos were discussing, wondering about the Church and its members. “Ludevic is a murderous bastard, but he is also resourceful, he must have found a safe way to cross these grounds. For all we know he could be associated with those blasted vampires as well!” Added Ulrich, whose conviction of the good will of the Church was his greatest strength and biggest weakness.
“I’m saying something doesn’t fit,” said Grete, who was well-known for being strongwilled in regards to her opinions. “The high-ranking call made all of the best members of the Riders to follow up on this lead. We were driven far off course from any cathar watchpost, inside the vampire grounds. Not only that, but we found no indications of skaabs and the only way back to Thraben is through these wretched vampire passes. If you ask me, tired as we are, this would be the perfect time for a strike.”
All of Grete’s considerations burned through Odric’s mind like dry logs in a bonfire. She thought exactly like him, or maybe even better. Odric was well-known for his strategic skills, and he had to admit that, if this was a plan to corner the Riders, that particular place and time were the perfect choices. The short passages in the mountains made their mount advantage a liability. Adding the frustration at the failed trip and the fatigue of a long day’s ride, it all made it too easy to justify an attack. Even beyond that, there was also the cathar’s gut feeling. You could be a simpleton or a mad genius, but ignoring your instincts on Innistrad was a sure way to become werewolf food.
“Let’s turn back,” spoke Odric at last, stopping Whitesnow’s march. “I don’t like this either. We are too exposed on this grounds, let’s go back to Kessig and pursuit a path through one of the Breakneck Rides,” for the blessed Avacyn, how Odric hated that name.
“Sir,” protested Ulrich “we are halfway through Getander Pass. After we get back it will be night time and the forests in Kessig are full of geists and apparitions.” All the riders had stopped now, a full platoon of 16 men, lined up in single file due to the terrain constraints. The screech of bats resonated from multiple nesting holes going all the way up above the mountains. “I must point out that turning back now is as dangerous as risking a trap.”
Odric would have replied to that, if it weren’t for Grete holding up an arm. “Sir,” alerted his lieutenant, “listen”. The Commander of the Gavony Riders stopped his breath, and closed his eyes. There were no other sounds but the heavy breathing of tired horses.
“I hear nothing,” answered Odric.
“Precisely,” concluded Grete. Immediately after, they heard a scream.
One of the riders at the end of the line fell from his horse and was struggling with a cloaked figure smaller than him, but apparently much stronger. Another scream came before anyone could react, followed by the horrible bubbling sound of a man drowning in his own blood. The creature had torn a piece of the rider’s neck, and it turned its head to the other members of the platoon, eyes shining in the dark and fangs dripping with blood.
“Vampires!” Cried Odric, unsheathing his silver sword Moonshard, but most of the other riders were too slow. The Commander of the Gavony Riders could see from the corner of his eye that many other vampires were descending from the mountainside, clinging to the walls as if they were spiders, their movements too fast to follow properly. Claws and teeth hit most of Odric’s men before they could even turn their heads around, only a few like Grete and Ulrich being actually capable of taking a hold of their weapons and pointing towards the frenzied vampires. It would be a massacre.
The narrow pathway was hindering their movements, but Odric was able to turn Whitesnow around and shout an order. “Jump from your horses! Use them as shields!” That was a difficult request, and hardly the noblest thing for riders to do, but they would all die otherwise. The Commander was the first to drop down from his mount, and heard the panicked neigh of his horse when a vampire hit it on the back, followed by the visceral sound of a predator ripping the flesh of its prey. Whitesnow was dead even before its legs failed under its weight, with its marble hide turned crimson red. Odric allowed himself to feel that loss only for a moment before moving his sword upward in a piercing lunge, the bright silver cutting through vampire skin as if it were made of straw, and the creature screeched while its body burst with the pain. “Regroup! Everyone that is still alive move closer to each other!”
Odric couldn’t explain what happened that day, even if he wanted to. Half of his men had been killed in just that first assault launched by the vampires, and yet somehow they managed to get together and, back-to-back, cut through the bloodlusted bastards with their silver-inlaid weapons. There was something wrong with those vampires. They were much more brutal and fearless than what the Commander could remember, but that was also making their attacks predictable and shortsighted. Had they been even in numbers, Odric was sure he could have killed all of them without losing a single man. However, they had the terrain, the surprise and the numbers on their side. The riders could not withstand all those attacks.
In the end, it was just Ulrich, Grete and Odric, surrounded by the monsters. Vanessa and all the other riders were dead or dying, their bodies lying on pools of blood. “I’m sorry,” Odric managed to mutter through gritted teeth “I’ve failed you.” His eyes were burning red, with tears of rage and grief trickling down his cheekbones. The Commander raised his sword, attempting one last strike, but was interrupted by a shout.
“Stop!” It came from above.
Odric turned his head around and saw another vampire floating downwards in their direction. This one was much more composed, but still carried that same predator look on her face. “My children, what have you done?” Asked the vampire, and at this point it was clear to Odric that she was addressing the creatures that encircled them, not the cathars. “I taught you better than to attack with such carelessness, especially members of the Holy Church. What is happening to you?” She proceeded with her monologue, apparently not really expecting an answer. That made Odric look around, past his pain and fury, and notice something. Some of the vampires were strange, but he could not place exactly why. One of them hissed like a snake, and it seemed to the cathar that two tongues were protruding from its mouth. “Begone!” Cried the flying vampire, with a commanding voice, and for a moment the Commander thought the vampires would not take that order, but they ultimately just made more sounds and disappeared back into the mountains.
The floating vampire was approaching Odric and his two remaining warriors from the fall side of the pass. Below her were some dozens of feet of a steep mountain slope that would lead to certain death. “I would ask for your forgiveness, humans, if I knew that you were capable of such things,” her voice was soft and menacing at the same time, “those vampires were my responsibility, but for some reason they are in an altered state of mind, and-”
“You are a monster,” interrupted Grete, “you and all your kind don’t deserve forgiveness. You deserve nothing but the tip of our blades.”
“Typical human rhetoric,” scorned the vampire “but I will not ask for the comprehension of dead men.” Her eyes turned a little brighter as she said that, and Odric could see that she too was struggling to keep her patrician impression. “Our numbers have dwindled ever since that accursed angel came back, and I can’t afford the Church to retaliate and put more of our kind on stakes.” She was flying closer to them now, her hands moving unsteadily on her body. Odric could feel that she wasn’t just a neonate, she could murder all three of them if she so wished. “That’s why I have to end you now.”
“Nobody else is dying today,” replied Odric before she did anything else, “but you and me.” The Commander ran in the vampire's direction and jumped as hard as he could, before Grete and Ulrich could try to stop him. The suicidal strategy was so unexpected that the vampire stood without reacting for a brief moment, and that was all that the old cathar needed to grab her by the torso and drag her tumbling in screams down the mountain slope. Odric could hear the cries of Grete, and the momentary sense of weightlessness before he and the vampire crashed into the mountainside. Her body took most of the impact, but enough force was left for him to lose all the air in his lungs and hear the clear sound of ribs cracking. His world went dark after that.
Odric woke up, the pain he was feeling being the only indicator he hadn’t reach the Blessed Sleep. He looked around and saw the base of the mountain running all the way to the top. He had fallen inside a valley, and wasn’t sure that he could even drag his body off the ground. The pain felt terrible, but not in any lasting way, or so he hoped. He spotted his sword abandoned on the ground, probably with the blade ruined from the fall. And then, a little bit farther away, he saw the vampire. Despite taking most of the fall, she seemed to still be alive. Not for long.
Gathering all his remaining willpower, the old cathar moved himself until he reached Moonshard, and managed to drag himself and his blade close enough to the vampire. She had fallen in an awkward position, and it seemed as if many bones in her body were broken. For only a trice, Odric almost felt sorry for her. Then he started moving his blade upwards to slit her throat, but stopped himself when he noticed the vampire was awake.
“Go ahead human,” mumbled the vampire, with a harsh pitch in her voice, indicating that even speaking was becoming painful “murder me like sheep. I’m too hurt to make it out of this alive anyway.”
“You deserve this,” Odric managed to reply. “You know how many good men and women your monsters killed in that pass? How many grieving families and orphan sons you and your aberrations created?” A flash of the lifeless body of his young son came to Odric’s eyes, and he tightened the grip on his sword.
“Hypocrites,” the patrician vampire said with a smirk on her face, “all humans are hypocrites.”
“You dare accuse us of such deeds? To murder the innocent? To destroy the lives of children?” Odric was almost shouting, despite the pain it caused him.
“I dare accuse you of much worse,” was the answer of the dying vampire. “Are you blind? Your kind murders each other just as much or even more than vampires, werewolves and geists put together.” Her voice appeared to fade in the middle of a sentence, but would come back strong again after a while. “Vampires kill humans because we need to feed. Do you also judge the hunters who kill deer for sustenance? Do you pity for the cubs in the forests who are left for dead after their parents become pelt?”
“I’m talking of humans!” Odric finally exploded, his lungs burning with the effort, “not animals!”
“What is the difference cathar?” Retorted the vampire, her voice somehow sharp as a blade now, “Are humans better than the other creatures? Are they nobler? Are they entitled to have their lives preserved while they cut down forests, kill rivers with their filth and excrements, indiscriminately tagging away all other beings as monsters, so it is easier to justify their deaths?!” She had a coughing fit after the last line, pointed by a marked sound of rasping of the almost dead. “No matter,” she spoke after a long time in silence, spitting blood, “you do not understand. In Stensia the greatest providers of vampire prey are human merchants themselves. They negotiate their own kind in exchange for favors and riches. You are just as bad as the remaining monsters of Innistrad.”
Odric had clasped firmly the hilt of his blade. He looked at that vampire aristocrat, then looked at his blade, and couldn’t help but think that what he was about to do was stone cold murder. If she was a human, even a murderer, he would feel obliged to help her in any way he could before bringing her to the Justice of the Church, where she would have a fair trial. What was different here? That thought was gnawing his mind, and he knew through his instincts, through that same gut feeling, that what he almost did was wrong.
“Are you dying?” The cathar asked, after putting his blade down, knowing it was an obvious question.
“Why do you care?” Replied the vampire, whose voice gave away a trembling of pain and fear, two very human emotions when meeting the end.
There was silence once again. The Commander of the Gavony Riders would not answer that question. He just took a deep breath, knowing he had hurt himself more than he should. He listened to the sounds of crows and saw the kettle of vultures circling around the dead bodies on the pass above. No doubt they would go down here later to feast on his remains as well. The vampire on his side coughed once again, and he caught a low humming sound coming from her. She was singing to herself, with what was left of her strength. It sounded like a lullaby. At that moment, Odric felt as if there was just one monster there. And it wasn’t her.
The vampire felt the darkness claiming her, not sure of what was to come next. She was uncertain if the damned had a chance of reaching the so-called Blessed Sleep of the humans. She was feeling dead already, completely done for… when a copper taste reached her mouth, one that she knew all very well: blood. She moved her head slightly to the side, and felt the drops of blood reaching her mouth agape. It was the old cathar. He had cut his wrist with the blade of his sword and was letting what remained of his blood to flow to her mouth, invigorating her, powering her, making her feel anew.
“Why?” Asked the vampire, grabbing Odric’s wrist with her good remaining hand and sucking the blood without sinking her teeth.
“Because” he answered, straining himself “we are not just monsters.” That was the Commander’s last sentence before his consciousness started to fade away again.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
The wagon was covered in shadows inside the dark alley, his conductor waiting for the movement on the streets to cease. Odric had his hands freezing with the unusual chilling cold of late. The weather was strange, but so was everything else. The angels could no longer be trusted, the vampires were going mad, the werewolves returning, and the Church was turning a blind eye to it. The cathar looked around, rubbing his hands together, and decided it was time.
Odric, the Heretic, grabbed a crowbar and tore the wood planks of the box apart. From the inside, the vampire Alicia emerged, a displeased look on her face.
“I did not agree to help this cause to be moved around as animal, master cathar” stated the patrician vampire of the Falkenrath house, her voice with the distinctive soft and menacing tone it usually had.
“Not so long ago, you educated me that we were no different from animals ourselves” was Odric reply, meant as a joke. The vampire bitter look was an indication that his attempt at humor had failed. “I mean no disrespect,” added the cathar to sooth the moods, “but that was the only safe way of moving you inside these walls. The sentries have ballistae positioned to shoot down angels and vampires, while the walls are warded against evil.”
“Your little plan only worked due to my intervention,” retorted Alicia, “I had to cast a spell on that guard after your pathetic venture at swaying him failed miserably.”
The guard’s reaction had in fact changed so abruptly that Odric suspected of wizardry at hand. He was still surprised by the range of abilities Alicia possessed, and constantly worrying about it at the same time. When she spared his life after drinking enough blood at the deep bottom of the Stensia valley, the cathar asked himself how much of his judgments were misguided, and how much could he trust in what once he considered his enemies. One thing he knew for sure though: the bishop he went to see in Thraben was not to be trusted. He represented everything that was wrong on Avacyn’s Church, and it was unfortunate the ex-Commander didn’t have the power to arrest him anymore. For now.
Thraben was silent, except for the muffled sound of distant footsteps of guards and beggars. The air was loaded with anxiety and mistrust, for once people were afraid their guardians had abandoned them, but now they had the much worse fear of having their guardians turned against them. The creaking sound of a door opening was followed by discrete farewells, and bishop Collhard hurried his steps into the night. The lime washed houses following the main street had their door and windows shut, not even a light of a candelabra shining on the inside. Collhard looked to his sides, hearing the running water sound of the fountain in the main square, and cold sweat started covering his forehead. Being out of the cathedral, even inside the city, made him nervous.
The bishop increased his pace, trying to reach Child’s Wall before bumping into someone and being forced to give explanations, but stopped when he heard a sound. He turned around, thinking that he was being followed, and scanned the dark alleys and side streets looking for any indication of movement. There was nothing. The bishop turned back again but immediately stopped, because right in front of him stood a cloaked man. “W-Who are you?” Stuttered the bishop, holding the Avacyn’s Collar he held on his neck as a reflex.
Odric did not respond. He took his hood down, revealing the tired face of a bearded man, and moved closer to the bishop. “S-stop!” Collhard tried to command, “what are you doing? I will cry for the guards!”
Back-paddling his steps, the Bishop stopped when a chill run through his spine and he forced himself to turn around. There, standing taller than him, was the predator figure of a vampire. He almost choked on his own spit, and started to wet himself, falling on his knees in front of the creature and chanting prayers. “What a feeble man,” disdained Alicia.
“You don’t remember me bishop?” Asked Odric, moving close to Collhard and helding his head up, so the man would face his eyes. “I took orders from you, multiple times. The last one was to find Ludevic on the borders of Kessig and Stensia.”
Collhard pressed his eyes and stared at the battered face of the cathar, until recognition came with what may have been a hint of relief. “Odric! Odric, my son, you’re alive and well! I prayed so much for your soul and your return to-“
“Shut up Collhard,” Odric’s words immediately transfigured the bishop’s face, eliminating all that was left of relief and replacing it with sheer panic. “You are a corrupt bastard, and deserves to face trial for your crimes.” The bishop didn’t confirm and didn’t deny anything, he was too scared, trapped between the cathar and the vampire. “But you will be useful to us,” proceeded Odric, “I want to know where is the scroll for the Accursed Relic”. The whole body of the bishop trembled when hearing those last words.
“I can’t tell you,” he said with what was left of his courage, “they will kill me.” Odric shook his head in disappointment, and Alicia grabbed the man by the shoulders with supernatural strength.
She looked deep into his eyes, with an amused and threatening expression, “oh, but you will tell us.” And the bishop would have screamed, if he could.
Collhard told them everything. He was found the next day, muttering gibberish, and was taken to an asylum. Avabruck. In an old church inside the wasted capital of Kessig, that was the last place the scroll was seen, exchanged as a holy gift. Odric would have to travel to that city, currently known as Hollowhenge, and find the scroll. He would need more help for that.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
The present. One day before Hunter’s Moon.
The chilling cold was biting Odric’s neck, and the stiffness of his body made all his movements difficult. He rubbed his hands together while moving in the muddied grounds of the Moorland, regretting almost all of his last decisions. He chose not to trespass into vampire territory again, due to the increasing savagery and aggressiveness of the bloodlust creatures. Instead, he opted to walk until the border between Kessig and Gavony and find a guide to Hollowhenge. He chose to go there on foot so he could easily avoid cathar’s watchposts and the risk of being recognized. He also chose to depart from Alicia temporarily, given her growing need for human blood and the difficult she was having in controlling herself. All these choices meant that he had no horse, no company and no clear path to the city where he was supposed to find the scroll.
The ground on the Moorland was treacherous, with abandoned grafs spawning undead monstrosities and desecrated land where if a man was to find his death, he was never to reach the Blessed Sleep. While walking among the decayed trunks of trees, listening to the distant howls of the wind, Odric tried to comfort himself repeating his old adage - fear holds no place in faith’s battle plan. He didn’t feel as safeguarded as he used to when repeating it this time.
The ex-Commander of the Gavony Riders knew that his faith had been rewarded before. The very ground he walked on was a proof of that. Gisa and Geralf used to have the Moorland as their private battleground, but after Avacyn’s return the necromancer had been incarcerated and the stitcher retreated to his concealed laboratory. The people who were held slaves of fear were now free to live their lives in peace. Skaabs and ghouls were no more, their numbers dwindling with each cycle of the moon. However, that wasn’t the end of it. The angels, who helped the commoners in their most dire hour, were now the ones bringing suffering to their lives. What did that mean? – The cathar kept asking himself. Did it mean that his faith had been misplaced all along? With that question in mind, Odric’s own saying sounded hollow, and his beliefs felt shallow.
As he moved closer to the border, Odric noticed things moving in the woods. Shambling bodies muttering incohesive sounds, staring at the cathar with empty eye sockets from a distance. They were too slow and scattered to provide any threat, but their presence was a sign that the shadows which once covered Innistrad were returning. Odric moved one of his hands to the hilt of his sword, Moonshard. If he couldn’t find reassurance on his faith, he would find on his steel.
It was almost nighttime when Odric’s tired feet found a place to rest. It was a very small village at the limits of what was the province of Gavony, bordering the Ulvenwald forest. He didn’t remember seeing that village before when he rode through that region, protecting the inhabitants of the Moorland from Gisa’s assaults. The houses of the village seemed to be made of wattle and daub with thatched rooftops, and the streets looked deserted from where the cathar was standing. As Odric approached the place, he spotted a wooden sign with trembling letters written on red paint: “Welcome to Bruck”.
The lack of a single human being in the soggy roads of the village made Odric’s instincts kick in. He looked around, feeling as if thousands of eyes were spying on him, measuring his movements, ready to attack. He turned to the sides, looking for a hint of humanity in that forsaken village. “Is there anyone here?” Asked the cathar, draped on the same clothing he had the day he entered the gates of Thraben, “I need food, and a place to stay for the night. I can pay for it,” added the ex-Commander, hoping his offer would entice someone to move forward. He had loosed his hood, and his long beard made him look like a hermit or homeless man.
There was a creaky sound in the distance, followed by the constant drumming of footsteps. Finally a man came up from one of the side streets, breaking some of Odric’s tension. He was a heavily built man, with strong forearms and a wide chest, a deep hairline indicated he was entering in his more mature years. “Who are you traveler?” His voice was deep, matching his size. “Where do you come from? Your accent sounds the same as of the elite of Nearheath, and we don’t trust that kind”.
“I’m a weary traveler, seeking refuge for a night so I can return home,” answered Odric, repeating the story he had crafted on his mind. “My parents were from Thraben, but I was born in Lambholt”.
There was silence for a moment where the other man seemed to be measuring the weight of Odric’s words. That only lasted up until when a door swung open from one of the houses. A woman with a disturbed complexion walked out of it and started screaming, “Liar! He is a liar!” She seemed awfully frightened. “We don’t know who he is!” Continued her, yelling at the muscular man who was talking to Odric, “we can’t trust him! Leave him be Derek! It is almost nighttime! It is not safe! Close your doors!”
“Go back to your house Tina, he is just a man. He also might need our help,” replied Derek to the shouting woman. “Even if he is not telling the whole truth,” completed him, turning his head towards Odric, indicating he too didn’t believe a word out of the cathar’s mouth. Odric was now convinced that he, in fact, was a terrible liar.
The cathar noticed that the discussion had stirred the curiosity of other village members – doors were starting to creak and window panels were removed. Heads and eyes were showing up, and some people dared moving into the streets. “We can’t trust him! It is almost nighttime!” Repeated Tina, the scared woman, looking to her sides. “The creature will appear soon! Leave him to it!” Odric realized some villagers were shaking their heads in approval, as if leaving someone to face ‘the creature’ was the sensible thing to do.
“We will not-” Derek started saying something when he was interrupted by a little girl’s cry “Dad! Come back! Mom is scared!” She almost fell running towards him, but she got back on her feet and hugged her father. She looked at Odric turning her head just a little, and the cathar did his best not to look startled. Her face had three scars running from the top of her forehead down to the side of her cheek, one of them passing straight through where one of her eyes was. She had lost that part of her sight, and the scars left no doubt as to what was to blame – a werewolves’ paw. That vision reminded Odric of his own painful past, and he gritted his teeth without realizing.
“See Derek!” Exclaimed Tina, who seemed to be capable of communicating only via agonizing wails, “your kid knows what is important! Go to your home, take care of your family!” There were murmurs coming from the few people standing outside, agreeing with the woman and looking back at Derek, “it is late Derek,” said someone, “get back! You’re endangering us!” Insisted yet another person.
“What is this creature?” Asked Odric in his hoarse voice, cutting down the chatter, before the spirits started to get high.
“It is a beast,” answered Tina, looking at the setting sun in the horizon “it comes in the nights closer to the Hunter’s Moon, bigger than a grizzly bear, and walks in our streets howling to the skies and looking for people to kill. The only thing that protects us is our faith and the charms we leave at our doorsteps.” The cathar saw the woman indicating trinkets and painted signs in the doors. He doubted that would stop anything harsher than a soft breeze.
“Is it a Werewolf?” Inquired the cathar, instinctively moving his hand towards the grip of his sword under his cloak.
“No,” replied Derek immediately, “it is not a werewolf, it is something else.” He looked apprehensive, but not because he was afraid of this beast. He seemed… concerned.
“Does it matter what it is?” Cried Tina, “It is dangerous and is trying to kill us all! We shouldn’t stay in the open!” She was expressing her sentiments strongly. So much so that everyone else was giving her nods of approval and turning scared to their sides.
“It looks like a werewolf!” Said someone in the crowd, “I say it is one of them!” Exclaimed another one.
“Werewolves come in packs, and this one comes alone.” Derek spoke, interrupting the conversations, “but Tina is right, I should head back home with my daughter. We should all go back home,” he said that taking a long glance at Odric, “you can come with us stranger, if you want.” Odric knew he had no other choice.
Derek had a very big, pleasant home and a warm family. Odric didn’t exchange many words with him while they were in the company of his daughter, not even his name. Nonetheless, Derek didn’t seem to mind a man who wanted to keep his secrets, and he introduced the cathar to his wife, who kept their company to talk about amenities. The cathar notice that their daughter was lively, happy and beautiful, despite the traumatic experience she so clearly went through. She also was incredibly fond and caring for her father, something Odric took with a little resentment, since he never had the change of experiencing the same with his son. At one point, Derek’s wife called her daughter to another room, a cue to leave both men alone.
They were sitting close to a fireplace, the flames crackling and spewing their ashes through an opening in the roof. It seemed dangerous to have fire in a house built with straw, but Derek had modified his place in many different ways to ensure the safety of his family. Odric spotted reinforced doors with strong metal locks, window frames with metal bars and multiple weapons into an arm’s reach. There also appeared to be a cellar, given the echoing sound of Odric’s footsteps in the floor. That house was a small stronghold in a tiny village.
“You don’t seem worried about the creature that roams in your village at night,” said the cathar, who still hadn’t introduced himself, moving his hands closer to the fire. Derek was looking directly at the flames for a moment, his hands with a slight tremor while he grabbed a pipe to smoke.
“It was never a problem to our family,” answered the man casually, “I think if it wanted to hurt us it would’ve done it already.”
“The protection you put in your house suggests you believe otherwise,” said the cathar, who could be a bad liar, but also knew when others were not being totally honest themselves.
The ironsmith took a pull at his pipe and looked straight into Odric’s eyes. “There is more than one type of danger in this land, master cathar.” The ex-Commander was savvy enough not to show any surprise at having his identity revealed, though that was the full extent of his cleverness.
“You knew,” grunted Odric.
“I didn’t,” answered Derek, blowing the smoke through his nose and mouth at the same time, “but now I do.” Odric immediately felt like an idiot. Despite knowing that cloak and dagger missions were never his strongest suit, he didn’t expect to fall for such a cheap trick. Seeing the desolated look on the cathar’s face, the ironsmith continued, “don’t beat yourself up over it. I knew from your accent you were foreign, and you walk like a man who knows combat and hides that sword of yours pretty poorly,” concluded Derek with a pointing finger at the side where Odric was keeping his sword safe.
“I could be a soldier, a guard. Even a mercenary.” Replied Odric indicating the man had no reason to guess he was a cathar.
“No guard would risk walking into a land full of zombies and who knows what other abominations at times like this, no.” The shaking on his hands was lighter now. “It takes a man of faith, a man with a mission. And I would never invite a mercenary into my house,” finished Derek, with a soft smile, indicating he had some trust in the exiled cathar.
“Maybe you’re right,” admitted Odric, letting himself relax a bit. “I’ve come here with a mission.”
“I thought that much,” said Derek, waving his pipe in the air, “and what is that?”
“I came to find a guide,” answered the cathar, projecting his body ahead to talk in secrecy, “one that can take me through the Breakneck Ride up until Hollowhenge.” At the mention of that name, Derek flinched as if he had been hit in the stomach.
“You should be careful with that name in here,” pointed Derek, his tremor coming back, “it is an ill omen.”
“You don’t seem to be a man that trusts omens and superstitions,” said Odric, indicating the numberless precautions the ironsmith had taken with the safety of his house once again.
“You don’t understand,” continued Derek, “we’re survivors. We are… we are the remaining citizens of the fallen capital of Avabruck.”
That revelation surprised the cathar. He knew some people had survived the slaughter of the Mondronen pack. He even knew that some tried to rebuild the capital after Avacyn returned, but he wasn’t aware of such a big number of survivors founding a city in Gavony. Welcome to Bruck. Now it made more sense.
“I’m sorry,” Odric finally spoke after a period of silence, rising from his seat. “I didn’t mean to stir old memories.”
“It is understandable master cathar,” the ironsmith spoke in a dismissive tone, also rising from his seat. “We should all go to sleep now, it is late and we don’t know when the creature will come. You’re welcome to stay here through the night, but I don’t believe you will find what you’re looking for.”
Odric nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking how a whole group of people could have crossed the Ulvenwald safely, and what sort of beast was the creature that roamed in that village at night. He had a hunch, but wasn’t totally sure. While the cathar was lost in thoughts, The ironsmith showed him to a place where he could rest. He assured Odric that he would be safe if he stayed inside the house, and the cathar believed him. Nonetheless, sleep through the night wasn’t part of Odric’s plans. Not when he had a monster to take care of.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
When Odric joined the Order, his commander said that a cathar without his armor is no better than a naked man. There was no greater truth than that, and Odric felt it from his skin all the way through his bone. Shaggy cloth could hamper the advances of the cold wind, but it would do little in the combat situation he was about to face. The only silver lining was that his newfound nimbleness allowed him to leave unnoticed from the ironsmith house. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
Outside, the Moon was shining bright over the dark sheet of night. There seemed to be no prying eyes coming from the houses, no sign of sound or movement. It was as if the city had been abandoned, living up to the memory of its predecessor – Avabruck – which stood occupied only by monsters and geists for a long time after its fall. This city was much smaller than Avabruck had been, but all of its people appeared to be healthy and strong. It made Odric question how a single monster could keep them in their heels, but he knew the answer to that. These people had lost their houses, their land and their families to the attack of a werewolf pack. It is understandable that they are now just afraid of facing anything at all. It was his duty as a cathar to release them from that fear.
When walking amongst the streets, Odric unsheathed his sword, which shone brighter than ever. The incantation recently renewed made the sword a lethal end for those who lurked in the shadows. He took his careful, calculated steps around the town, as a watchguard making his round. That was something that the master cathar was good at, and he swirled his sword around from time to time to test his muscles. In some particular moments his wrist would make a clicking sound and his shoulder would feel overly strained. That was his age coming, the only certainty in life besides death – old age spares no soul. Despite himself, the ex-Commander wouldn’t let these shortcomings coming in the way of his reckoning.
Looking around, Odric had already made a complete full round over the village, not stumbling with a single person and memorizing the important parts of the terrain. Only a fool enters in a fight without knowledge of the battlefield. Odric had already seen all the small alleys where he would get cornered trying to run for cover, all the places where the ground was too swampy to walk without getting stuck and mentally mapped the village’s topography so he could know where to explore the high-ground advantage. Fighting a monster was not the same as a platoon or an army of organized soldiers, but the Gavony Riders had the most experience in dealing with rebellious mobs and magical threats, and much of the advantages you seek in both scenarios are the same. When completing a second round, Odric noticed he had missed some details: the placing of wagons and carts, spots where it was too dark to fight a foe clearly, places where he could be ambushed from behind. The old age apparently was reaching him in more than just the physical aspect. He would need one more round to be sure.
It was hard to place when the first sound came. Odric had been making his rounds while inspecting every detail of the village, and that task alone kept him absorbed for a good deal of time. He wasn’t sure a monster would come, or that there was a monster at all. He knew that for every ten monsters people claimed to see, nine turn out to be a reason for jokes later. The issue was when the tenth one showed up, then there would be nothing to laugh about. That sound confirmed the story was real. For a moment it seemed to be coming from all directions, such was the deafening silence in the town.
It came as a heavy panting of a creature breathing with difficulty, and another dull more distant sound that seemed like muffled footsteps. An impression the cathar had from the sounds was that of exhaustion. He looked around, still not able to place the exact direction of the breathing, which was worrisome. Then, clear as the moon was in the sky, a howl came. It filled the air with its tune making even the neck of the cathar react with goosebumps. The few lights that were still shining inside the houses went out, as everyone appeared to retreat even deeper into the imaginary safety of their homes.
Stretching his neck and moving around with Moonshard in hand, the ex-Commander of the Gavony Riders felt the kick of adrenaline take over his instincts. He always kept his calm, but there was something personal when it came to werewolves and their kind. He swirled his sword around once again, knowing that the creature was now very close. Then he heard a growl, one that was too close for the creature not to be in his field of vision. He looked up and around, until he saw the bulk of something standing on four legs over a thatched rooftop in a nearby house. The fur of the creature shone brightly against the light of the Moon, appearing to be clouded in silver. The eyes were small yellow dots in its lupine face, and once the creature stood on two legs, Odric recognized immediately for what it was: a wolfir.
For a moment there, Odric remained with both hands at his sword, and the creature didn’t move from his still position. It did something stranger – talked to him. “What are you doing in this city?” Asked the Wolfir, his voice a mix of human and animal, almost too beastly to be understood.
“I’m Odric, master cathar, and I’m here to kill the monster who terrorizes this village at night.”
“Go back to where you came from cathar Odric,” said the wolfir breathing heavily. It appeared to be almost exhausted. “I protect this city from the monsters, not you”.
“You are the one scaring them,” said the cathar, knowing that had to be the case. “You are the one who needs to go.”
The wolfir growled again, and bared his fangs. “I said leave. Thraben’s watchdogs aren’t welcome here. This is a last warning.”
“Who gave you the authority to decide?” Asked Odric, holding his blade higher.
“The people of this city did,” answered the wolfir, “I’m the mayor of Avabruck.”
That revelation took Odric by surprise. The mayor of Avabruck was a werewolf, that he knew. He did not know that he was converted into an wolfir during the Cursemute, much less that he was still watching his citizens. That got him distracted, and the mayor took advantage of it. The big wolfir jumped from the rooftop onto the ground, his strong muscular limbs holding the impact. The cathar immediately assumed a defensive stance, while the wolfir started circling him on four legs, threatening an attack. That was when the ex-Commander noticed something else.
“You’re bleeding,” spoke Odric, furrowing his brow, “you’re hurt.”
“You weren’t my first problem tonight,” the creature started feinting attacks, and Odric moved his sword around accordingly, not biting the trap. The blood dripping from the silver fur of the wolfir left marks on the ground. On a fair fight, Odric probably couldn’t deal with the creature speed, strength and agility, but that didn’t seem a fair fight. The mayor was tired and hurt, and despite his threats, he didn’t seem to be attacking with deadly intent.
“What did you do? Who did you kill?!” Odric shouted, moving in a way to avoid getting cornered. The creature stayed silent, eyes locked in the cathar’s blade. “Answer me damn it!” Cryed Odric lunging forward, and the creature had to backpedal not to get hurt.
“I fought two strayed werewolves,” answered the wolfir, ceasing his attacks for a moment. “They were coming from Ulvenwald to this city, and they would murder anything in their sight.”
Odric stopped moving as well, noticing that the bleeding on the wolfir was coming from around the neck and one of its legs. It did seem like bite marks. He took a deep breath, staring coldly in the wolfir’s eyes and remembering Alicia, remembering the misjudgings he gave to the monsters. Finally, he moved his sword back to its sheath. “You’re not my enemy.”
The wolfir rose on two legs, which made him at least three heads taller than the cathar, but he still did not attack again. “I am not your friend either. You have to leave the city.”
“I have no intention of staying,” replied the cathar, “I talked to one of the villagers, Derek, the ironsmith, that I came seeking for a guide. He said before I left his house that no one would be able to help me.”
The wolfir’s eyes widened. “You were at Derek’s house and left? Did you leave the door open?”
The cathar couldn’t understand why the question was relevant. “I didn’t locked it, just closed it. Why is that import-”
Before finishing his sentence, Odric heard another growl that made him interrupt himself. He turned his head around and saw the biggest werewolf he had ever seen. It was standing on four legs at the end of the street, its muscles were large and inflated, his trunk almost twice the size of the wolfir’s. It was showing its fangs and the eyes had no recognizable human traits. And then he understood. That was Derek.
The mayor of Avabruck moved to stand between Odric and the transformed ironsmith, growling to the werewolf.
“Get back cathar,” the wolfir said, “he has murderous intent.”
“You can’t expect to win a fight against him,” Odric replied, "you're already harmed."
“No, but I can expect to stall him until sunrise.”
The ex-Commander was about to say something else when the werewolf moved forward, running on his four limbs at a frightening speed. Time slowed down for Odric when he realized what was happening in the village: Derek turned his house into a small fortress because of himself, not because of the wolfir. He feared for the safety of his family in case he transformed again. His wife and his daughter… it was him who had hurt his own daughter. The mayor of Avabruck was protecting his town from the monsters, not terrorizing them. Derek must have tried to follow Odric to see what was happening and fell prey to the pull of the transformation under the influence of the Moon. In the end, it was all Odric’s fault.
The werewolf quickly covered the ground between him and the others. His fangs and claws were pointed at the silverpelted wolfir, who dodged his attack at the last moment. However, the mayor was too tired and hurt to keep up with his foe, and he lost balance falling into the ground. The werewolf was already turning around and rising his paw, ready to strike again. Odric intervened swinging with Moonshard in an arc, aiming for the werewolve’s legs. The creature moved away from the strike, showing incredible reflexes as well.
“We will not last until sunrise,” Odric spoke, already including himself in the fight against the gigantic werewolf.
“We have to.” Growled the wolfir getting back into his feet. Not waiting for another attack, the wolfir jumped at Derek, his teeth sinking into the neck of the creature for a brief moment before the werewolf grabbed him by the side and threw him on the ground. Derek’s massive bulk immediately immobilized the wolfir, and if Odric didn’t strike back with Moonshard to make him retreat, the mayor would’ve been dead now. No villagers were showing up to give the cathar and the wolfir a fighting chance. The doors and windows were shut, fear holding everyone back.
“We have to move,” said Odric, “we can’t win against him head on.”
“You’re right,” agreed the mayor, panting with effort, “we can’t.” The wolfir had barely finished speaking these last words when he sprang on four legs passing right onto the side of Derek, dodging his claws by a hair’s breadth. His sudden movement managed to call the attention of the creature, who quickly ran after in pursuit. They were going towards Ulvenwald. The mayor, leading the chase, was trying to take the monster away from the village. Odric wouldn’t be capable of keeping up on foot with the speed of the lupine creatures, but he could follow their tracks. The marks of blood left a clear trail for the master cathar, but he feared getting to them too late to do anything.
He saw Ulvenwald spreading in size ahead of him. The forest had a menacing aspect, and the cathar knew some of the stories about it. That was the lair of geists, dryads, werewolves and other forgotten spirits of nature. From the distance, some spots from the forest appeared to shine brightly. They were the fire of apparitions, the geistflames, and a traveler who followed them was bound to get lost in the woods. Odric was trying to take in all that he could while trailing behind the marks of the werewolf and the wolfir. He saw that, at the very least, the mayor was able to get into the forest before his chaser got to him.
There were cracked branches of birch and maple tree in the edge of the forest, and the sound of growls was intensifying. It was the night before Hunter’s Moon, and that forest was plagued with more than just one werewolf. Odric moved around, his sword still reflecting the moon’s light, and the mixing sounds of the forest were getting to him. He heard the hoots of owls and the howls of the wind shuffling between the leaves. His heavy breathing from the sprint made it hard for him to firm his hands around the sword, and he moved unsteadily not knowing if he should go deeper into the forest.
A sound came to his side, and the cathar quickly turned in a fighting stance. The lupine head of the mayor wolfir emerged from between the bushes, making him relax a little. That only lasted a moment though, because the head came rolling detached from its body. The silver aspect of the fur was gone, and the yellow red eyes were opaque in death. A growl came from behind the trees, and the massive creature that Derek had turned into appeared in clear sight. His muzzle was bloodied, and he licked around its mouth tasting the wolfir’s blood. Odric looked at that creature and kept his stance, his hands getting steadier now. He remembered the night he faced his first werewolf, the night he lost his son.
A realization came to him alongside the memories. Odric remembered why he fought. He remembered that, despite his doubts, his shaking beliefs, he still had to compromise. He had to do the best to protect the people, because that was his duty as a cathar. The mayor of Avabruck was cursed as a werewolf, but then he was blessed with forgiveness, and for his people he fought until his death. Every Hunter’s Moon he would show up to keep the werewolves far from the village. He did it despite being now considered a monster, feared by his own fellow citizens. He did it because it was the right thing to do. The angels might be turning their back on the people, but he would not. The certainty of his mission rushed inside him, filling him with reassurance.
Derek stared back at him, red eyes aglow, and growled right before moving to attack. The cathar readied his blade.
Fear holds no place in faith’s battle plan.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
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Probably better to use [i]destination[/i] here. Destiny feels way too dramatic.
Probably better to use [i]on[/i] here.
Incorrect homophone; best switch to [i]rode[/i] here.
Probably better to use [i]The thought...[/i].
Something doesn't click. Maybe [i]but found nothing.[/i]? Or [i]only to find nothing.[/i]?
Missing "at" for the verb "gazing". [i]gazing unsteadily at the wagon[/i].
Why not [i]would have shown[/i]? Fits better.
Those two words in the context are synonymous. Ditch one of them, or substitute for perhaps an adverb. [i]tightly shut[/i]?
Misspelled. [i]readying his[/i].
Something here is off.
You're referring to the original one we met, [i]first sentry[/i] fits better.
Incorrect homophone; switch to [i]his cloak off, revealing[/i]. Inserted a missing comma for better reading, which ties to the next part...
This. The comma here reads poorly. Adding the comma in the previous section makes it more unnecessary. Keep as [i]middle aged man with an[/i]
Insert missing comma for better reading, change adjective. [i]guard, taking a long glance at the enormous wooden box that was[/i]
Due to the part after the comma, it reads better when changed to [i]answered the conductor, looking straight into the guard's eyes.[/i]
Why "transfigured"? What did they change into? Did you mean perhaps "transfixed"?
If you want to keep this as a single sentence a semi-colon will do nicely here. [i]cornered, small; a little mouse in front of[/i]
Is firming actually a verb? If so this is fine, but I feel something else would work better. [i]steadied his grip[/i], perhaps?
"It" is unnecessary and "was" is misplaced. Also, because of how it's described, "visceral" sounds more appropriate. Try [i]No matter how visceral his fear was, he couldn't let this strange man[/i]
Dizziness can't be located elsewhere. [i]dizziness[/i] alone should suffice.
The second part feels redundant. [i]Figure[/i] alone should suffice.
Something about the first bit is off. I'm unsure what the best way to phrase it might be. Second part should be "rising", because Duncan is the one moving into an upright position; he's not taking something else and moving it upwards. I'd suggest [i]Duncan, the guard quickly rising[/i].
This part is unclear. If you're trying to say that Duncan attempted to decide whether at that moment he was dreaming, it's fine. However, it feels more natural for him to try and decide if the whole thing with the wagon was the dream, and in that case, [i]trying to understand if it had all been a dream.[/i] will do better.
Same as before. [i]guard rose[/i] should suffice.
If you want to keep "when", this doesn't feel right due to tense stuff. [i]again when he heard this.[/i] works better.
However, if you want to keep "hearing", go with [b}again upon hearing this[/i]
Due to sentence length and how the tense changes, a comma helps smooth the transition. Go with [i]of questions, and focused[/i]
"Around" here is unnecessary. [i]moved from the[/i] should suffice.
Considering how they are now considering this in spite of having let him through, perhaps [i]Was the man dangerous after all?[/i] fits better.
The second part says something that the dialogue doesn't. I suggest [i]"T-that, that man... y-yes, he is, he's dangerous!"[/i]. I understand that it makes initial reading a little clumsier but that's the effect you're going for, no?
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Phew, all done. Hope these are useful. I like these stories, keep it up Ashiok. Style stuff aside, this felt like a good introduction.
Edit: Dammit, what happened to the formatting? ;_;
Modern - Cheeri0s (building), Belcher (building), Lantern (building), UW Control (building)
RIP Magic Duels. Wizards will regret what they did to you.
True. Changed that.
. Yeah, probably. It gets to a point with in, at and on that is really frustrating to know when to use them, heh.
You're right. It was a mistake.
Is it? This one I'm not sure about, since I'm referring to the thought the traveller had in just the last sentence.
Only to find nothing fits better, I agree.
True. Fixed it!
. Huum, yeah, in my opinion there the difference is very small given the whole context, but I agree.
Heh, you're right. I believe somewhere in this text I wrote this again, didn't even occur to me ._. Tightly shut will do.
Yup. Thanks for pointing it out.
I believe you're referring to the "Friend or foe?" question. The idea was just to add that no foe would actually reveal his identity to this question, but I will see if I can restructure.
Sure! Make sense.
I will add the comma, didn't even realize I wrote 'of'.
Thanks!
Yup, will do.
. Sure!
I believe the idea here was transfigured, originally. It was to indicate that his look had changed (from whatever it was before to terror), but since this wasn't clear from context, I will change to transfixed.
I will be honest with you, I would never know when to add a semi-colon to a text, haha.
"To firm" is indeed a verb in english, heh. I'm brazilian, so I had to check, but it sounds better to me than "steadied". It may be strange for english natives, but I don't know...
That does sound a lot better. I will change it.
True story.
Well, since I'm using 'figure' as a synonym for 'form' it doesn't feel that redundant to me. It would be like saying 'the cloaked form of the man', whereas just 'the cloaked form' let's you asking: 'form or what?'. Maybe 'figure' is a more independent word than 'form', but still this passage doesn't bother me that much.
I didn't realize this difference of 'raise something' x 'rising yourself'. It makes sense, I will fix it.
You're right, my intention was the latter. I will fix it.
Fixed it.
It does sound better 'upon hearing'. I will change it.
Sure! Fixed it.
Yup.
The 'after all' here would imply that they thought he was a dangerous at first, when that is not what I'm going for in here. At first they sentry would think he was strange, potentially someone with bad intentions, but not really 'dangerous'. They will think that when seeing Duncan's face, clearly nervous because he had done so.
Good suggestion! I will do that.
Thanks man, really. It was an amazing job. I really would have liked to know more of what you thought of the story itself though, at least if you feel that it fits the mood of Innistrad. But really, thanks! And I believe your formatting went haywire because of some typo, but I honestly can't find it myself.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Everything you've got so far does make me feel like it's happening on Innistrad. I think Odric was a good choice, and for example the vampire confrontation (both physical and conversational) works well and drives the innistradi feel home. Ending is particularly chilling.
Modern - Cheeri0s (building), Belcher (building), Lantern (building), UW Control (building)
RIP Magic Duels. Wizards will regret what they did to you.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
What is the Accursed Relic and why is Odric looking for it? That doesn't seem to be hinted at anywhere leading up to the story and I was a bit taken aback by that. I felt like 'Here we are, understanding that a monster isn't any more monstrous than I am (good perspective shift, by the by) and now I'm going to go figure out the truth of why my squad was slaughtered. Oh, we should grab a relic too while we're at it.' I thought that Odric was going to make an alliance with Alicia and they were going to either root out corruption or otherwise instigate a sweet twist of morality, later figuring out that the Bishops were actually innocent and that Odric had made a mistake and that the vampire had twisted him to become the very thing he despised.
Why is Odric a heretic? From what I recollect from the Innistrad storyline, he was actually pretty devout. I can't remember all the way, though, so that could just be me.
Also, will you be tying in any of the new vorthos from Shadows over Innistrad? Odric was recently spoiled as the commander of the Gavony armies, or something like that, and this story kinda depicts him as a villainous or hard-nosed neutral to the religious institution that dominates the land. And the angels going mad and slaughtering the people of Innistrad would figure in the story pretty dramatically as well.
UB Dralnu, Lich Lord
RBW [Primer]-Kaalia of the Vast
BUG [Primer]-Tasigur, the Golden Fang
GWU [Primer]-Arcades, the Strategist
WUB Primer-Aminatou, the Fateshifter
UBR Nicol Bolas, the Ravager
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
The only thing I can answer without any mystery is that I chose Odric for my story without knowing what would happen with him in SOI. Depending on the characterization he gets, I can find an easy way to make my story merge with the official one, but they may also go to a complete different route and then my story would be more a "what if?". One thing that I will say is that Part 2 and Part 3 will follow a similar vein of Part 1, and the most important here isn't exactly what is the Accursed Relic (though you will understand what it is), but something else, that I will tell you once all the entries are released.
As always, thank you very much for reading! Despite not answering everything you said, I hope you got curious enough to read the next parts of the story that I will release shortly.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
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He had been riding for hours
Pressing on his shoulders
to admit it, but he was an old man now.
a lengthy/long/prolonged ride like this (assuming durable misused referring to duration)
Now he could only think of a warm meal and soft bed. (assuming that Odric's idle thoughts always come to the same images)
Now a warm meal and soft bed were his only thoughts. (assuming Odric's ONLY thinking of this and little else)
had once again been a complete failur.
hadn't been concerned
at mounting Whitesnow, his stallion, and bringing / at riding on Whiteswnow his stallion, and bringing
How thankful he had been to hear the
the alchemist - the perfect (hyphen/dash works better than comma here)
However, now he feared he had placed the lives of his men in unnecessary danger.
Avacyn had spread her power
galloping at almost full speed
of knowing/of commanding/of working with (not an error but it feels better given who this is referring to)
dangerous, even to
implying, Grete?
their strongest at arms in Innistrad
their strongest branches in Innistrad
(either can work but former implies that the Gavony Riders are among the best in combat specifically, while the latter implies that there are other groups like the Gavony Riders and that the Riders are strong amongst all those groups)
what his commandos
those blasted vampires as well! (gives a little more zeal to Ulrich's dialogue)
of the good will of the Church was both his
I'm just saying, something doesn't fit
all the best members of the Riders follow up on this lead. We have been driven off course, far from any cathar watchpost, inside vampire territory. (assuming Riders keeps referring to their title)
the only way back to Thraben is through these
considerations burned
Riders (see above - still a title)
A liability. Adding the frustration at the failed trip and fatigue of a long day's ride made it all too easy to justify an attack.
Even beyond that, there was the (gives emphasis to how much Odric trusts in this)
but ignoring your instincts on Innistrad was a sure way to become werewolf food. (smoother)
this either. We are too exposed on these grounds. Let's go back to Kessig and pursue
blessed Avacyn (works better)
protested Ulrich
By the time we get back
struggling against
its head (assuming you still refer to the creature)
see from the corner of his eye
clinging to the walls
too fast
hindering their movements
vampire skin as if it were made of straw. The
the vampire's skin as if it were made of straw. The
(either works)
as its body burst
the bloodlusted bastards
Had they been even in numbers
Had they not been outnumbered
they had numbers, the element of surprise, and favorable terrain
side. The Riders
end, it was just
end, there were just
(either is fine, I prefer the first)
encircled by the monsters
surrounded by the monsters
(either is fine, I prefer the second
all the other
lying on puddles of blood
lying on pools of blood
(prefer the second)
its mouth
as she said that
retaliate and put more
end you now.
vampire's direction
jumped as hard as he
without reacting
could hear
into the mountainside. Her body took most
but enough force was left
air in his lungs
He had fallen inside a valley
Mustering/Gathering all his remaining willpower,
Mustering/Gathering what willpower he had left,
(either is fine)
towards Moonshard
until he reached Moonshard
to drag himself
many bones in her body
many of her body's bones
stopped himself
interrupted his movement
voice, indicating
make it out of this
managed to reply (it's actually fine but this reads better)
as much as, or even more than,
their filth and excrements
their filthy excrements
(either works)
coughing fit (well the original could be fine, just never ever heard/read it before)
then looked at
what remained of his blood flow
he answered
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Phew.
You ever considered posting this to a dedicated fiction archive/site like FF.net?
Modern - Cheeri0s (building), Belcher (building), Lantern (building), UW Control (building)
RIP Magic Duels. Wizards will regret what they did to you.
- I used "the shoulders" because I had used "his armor" not so long ago, and I wanted to avoid repetition.
- The fact that he feels old now, as oppose to when he was younger, seems clear due to context.
- Thanks, I forgot to check if 'durable' had the same meaning I thought it had.
- Thanks for on/of thing about the meal and the soft bed, but the distinction you made there seems curious to me. I think "he could only of something" implies that the person can't think of nothing else already, because that 'something' would be their only thoughts.
- I took the suggestion of the hyphen, and adjusted the 'of' in Whitesnow for the 'at'.
- I took the advice on "had placed the lives", it does sound better than "to be placing". Full gallop speed sounds better to me than galloping at full speed, heh.
- I took the advice on Grete (changed to knowing), I meant to say Odric thought she was a fierce warrior, even before commanding her. Also the comma on 'even to him' was a nice addition, and 'implying, Grete' as well.
- "Branch" in the sense that you're using, I believe can also be used as "arm", in the sense of a "division" or "departament" (like the Gavony Riders).
- Should have been "his" commandos, that was a mistake.
- Heh, I like the 'blasted vampires as well'. I will add it. Also fixed "conviction on". Apparently you can only have "conviction of" something, indeed.
- I kept "I'm saying something doesn't fit", because there is a slight difference in that and "I'm just saying, something doesn't fit" (the latter is more soft while the former is more determined).
- I took your changes on Grete's dialogue and the "Riders" thing.
- Thanks for the "werewolf food" modification, I was struggling to make that passage sound better and I think yours does look much smoother.
- I took a lof your suggestions, but not the 'by the time' to avoid repetition with 'night time' that follows up. I used 'after we get back' instead.
- Struggling with is valid (as is struggling against), checked on the collocation dictionary.
- Took a bunch of another suggestions, but I will keep 'the terrain, the surprise and the numbers', because the way these things are advantages were already explained in the text and I don't need to be that explicit about it.
- Enough force was left, very nice (took most of the suggestions up until this point). Took a bunch of more suggestions, and then "as much as, or even then" sounds weird. I changed for "just as much or even more".
- Alright, took a lot more suggestions and finished, haha. Thanks man, one thing I want to point out: in the beggining you suggested the change of some passages from the Past Simple to the Past Perfect, and I saw no real reason for that. If you want to exlain why, I can changed it later, but both look possible and I went with past simple because it sounded better to me.
To be honest: no, I never thought about writing for a dedicated fanfiction site. I really enjoy writing these little pieces here, and I'm happy with that for now. Maybe if more people seem to like what I write I can start to do so, thanks for the advice! Sorry for taking a while to answer as well, but checking the corrections is also a lot of work, hehe.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
I've read it again and it's smoother now.
Regarding the Past Perfect thing, it's just that I've always interpreted it(that's how I was taught) as being used for things that happened in the past, but before a specific moment also in the past that is nonetheless after the event that's being described (crud it sounds super awkward describing it without a timeline).
For example, regarding the "How thankful he was to hear" part. I suggested changing it to "How thankful he had been to hear" because Odric is, at the moment when the sentence comes up, riding with his group.
"How thankful he was to hear" makes it sound like he's hearing about the call to catch Ludevic either at that moment while riding and is thankful about that; or he's thankful all the time for hearing about this.
"How thankful he had been to hear" on the other hand makes it explicit that hearing about the call to catch Ludevic happened before the current time in the story, and that it was then (in the past), that he felt gratitude because it meant he could ditch his desk.
Modern - Cheeri0s (building), Belcher (building), Lantern (building), UW Control (building)
RIP Magic Duels. Wizards will regret what they did to you.
I do believe that in the example you gave both cases could apply: "How thankful he was to hear" would only mean that he had been thankful to hear that news at the moment that he heard it. I may be wrong, of course, and I will check it again later. And please, don't worry about correcting everything! I know it is a lot of effort.
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).
Read my other stories as well (some ongoing):
Reaper King (a horror story), Kaalia of the Vast (an origin story), Sequels for Innistrad (Alternative sequels for Inn), Grey Areas (Odric's fanfic), Royal Succession (goblins),The Tracker's Message (eldrazi on Innistrad) and Ugin and his Eye (the end of OGW).