• Dimension Rift

    Spell Blades Saga

    Part 1, Chapter 1: The call of war

    It was bright and sunny day in the small village he liked to call home. His house was filled with the smell of food cooking on the stove. The fresh breeze rolled through his house, carrying with it the smell of bread baking, as it blew by. He was standing outside looking, pensively into the distance. His thoughts weren’t on the warm sunny day, the fresh breeze, or even the sweet smell of bread being baked in the stove. He looked into the distance standing from the front door of his wood and straw cottage. His mind was miles and miles away on the front lines of war that was tearing their beloved country apart and killing many youth that should’ve been studying for their last couple years of school or playing with their friends. Instead they were giving their lives for a fight that they don’t share. They kill for the amusement of a greedy overlord. The thought disgusted Tyran, and he spat at the ground out of disgust. He too would soon have to go to fight in this war with a lost cause. He cursed under his breath at his studies of magic and swordplay. This has made him an invaluable asset to their war efforts, or so they told him when he was informed he’d be going to fight. His wife called in from the kitchen, announcing that their food was done. He walked back into his house where his thoughts returned to his wife, Liana, and the wonderful life they have had together.

    Metal rebounded off of metal and magic off of magic as the war dragged on. The young recruit, from the town’s own militia, found it hard to keep up with everything going on. He managed to parry a horizontal swing of a sword just in time. Bringing the hilt of his sword down, he hit the man on the back of the neck. Parry Dog, as his friends called him, managed to dodge another swing, of an axe this time, and slashed his sword at the aggressor, cutting through his neck. He died almost instantly and fell, causing someone else to trip over his dead corpse. As Parry Dog spun around to face the enemy line again an arrow hit him in the shoulder. He was knocked off of his feet and used his good arm to try and crawl back, behind his own line where he could be healed. Before he got very far, however, someone swung an axe at him. Out of instinct his arm tried to intercept the axe, but instead of the sound of metal tearing through flesh, he heard the clang of an object hitting a harder, much sturdier object. A long sword then cut down the man with the axe.

    “Even Parry Dog gets hit sometimes I guess.”

    “Tower? I’m glad to see you.”

    Tower, nicknamed after the tower shield he favors, helped Parry Dog to his feet and get behind the line of battle. Priests quickly rushed to him and carefully removed the arrow. The head priest put his hands together, as if to pray, said a few words under his breath and his hands lit up with a blue light. He placed his hands over Parry Dog’s wound and it quickly healed. Parry Dog got up and stretched his shoulder out before picking up his sword again to follow Tower back into the battle.

    A fire ball flew by his right shoulder and hit a tree behind him. He swerved through the crowd of people, knocking some over and stabbing others with his two dirks. Shanks, as they called him, was one of the smaller men in the King’s army, but it made him better at how he learned to fight. He can easily run, duck, or swerve around the swing of any weapon and make a quick counter strike.

    An axe crashed down in front of him to impede his progress, but he was used to things like this. He flipped over the axe sliced the man’s neck one of his dirks. Shanks landed, gracefully as always, and continued to push forward. Soldiers from the King’s army quickly filled the hole from where he pushed through. They’d done this before, and it’s even won them battles in the past. This time, however, was different. They didn’t need to just break the ranks and push them away this time. The town’s militia was defending the town, and Shanks knew none of the militia would leave the town until they’re dead or dead enough that they could be dragged away.

    Parry Dog made his way back to the fighting. He’d been ordered to go and reinforce the east wing of the village where someone was breaking through their ranks. Running behind his line, Parry Dog quickly made it to the east wing. He took point, and before long he saw the man responsible for cutting down a number of his villagers. He was bit on the short side with brown, wavy hair that refused to stay still, even when he was. Parry Dog could tell by this man’s actions that he was well experienced in his style of fighting. The man swerved left and right killing Parry Dog’s comrades. Parry Dog made his way towards the short man with twin dirks and readied himself for a fight.

    Shanks saw a young, seemingly inexperienced male make his way towards him. Cutting through a man’s neck on his right he casually walked forward as the king’s army and the resistance made a circle around them.

    “I see.” Shanks said, looking around “You must be pretty good then.”

    “Tch.” This man’s casualness about killing irked Parry Dog “I can see that you are.”

    “Only one way to find out for sure. First, however, what do they call you?” Shanks inquired.

    “They call me Parry Dog. What about you, do you have a name?”

    “They call me Shanks. Now then, shall we start?”

    “Gladly” Parry dog said with finality

    They both readied themselves for the fight. Shanks leaped forward, thrusting one of his dirks at Parry Dog’s chest. Parry Dog brought his sword up and struck the dirk away with enough force that it threw Shanks off balance. Shanks rolled to his right and sprung up, but by the time he did Parry Dog was already on top of him. His sword struck the ground as Shanks flipped over him. Parry Dog turned in time to block a dirk, but Shanks quickly landed a foot to his stomach. He staggered backwards a bit before regaining his composure. Cringing slightly, Parry Dog leapt forward and cut wide. Shanks ducked and was about to kick Parry Dog again when he received a knee to his temple. Shanks tumbled to the side and did a hand spring to get back on his feet. He felt the side of his head with the back of his hand. His skin tingled as he felt warm blood smear onto his knuckles and down to his wrist. Grunting with displeasure Shanks threw one of his dirks, blade first, at Parry Dog while following it up with a jumping stab. Parry Dog was able to deflect the thrown dirk, but by the time he saw Shanks it was almost too late. Thrusting his sword upward, Parry Dog felt the weight of Shanks on his sword. Shanks’s dirk was caught in Parry Dog’s shoulder, but Shanks himself was run through by Parry Dog’s sword.

    “Needless… Slaughter...” was all that Parry Dog could manage to mumble before he fainted from blood loss due to the violent dirk wound.

    Tyran had finished eating and kissed his wife good bye before he went to the market square of the village for some fresh milk and bread. He was well known in his village for his politeness and his gentleness. People had a hard time believing that he would ever even pick up a sword, much less know how to use one. Yet, they had requested him to fight, and everyone knew it. Walking close to the outside of the village he heard the distant chants of magic being summoned. Tyran walked leisurely and seemingly care free to the market. It wouldn’t do to have the whole village get worried over it just yet. Politely greeting everyone he saw, Tyran’s attitude seemed to be taking affect. The market square was lively; every time he smiled a few more people smiled back, and kept smiling. Tyran pondered if it was because they knew and were taking a bit of pity on him, or were they simply happy to see someone who didn’t seem worried? He didn’t care, just so long as he could help. Stopping at the usual trader he bought his produce from, he greeted him rather merrily before buying his food.

    “Good day Yarin. How’s today turn out so far?”

    “Ah, Tyran! So good to see you! Yes well, today hasn’t been so good. I’ve only sold enough to make about half of all my produce’s worth.”

    “Allow me to assist you then my friend. Do you have any fresh milk and two loaves of bread?” in truth Tyran only needed one loaf, but it wouldn’t hurt.

    “We do my friend.” Yarin picked up a bottle of milk and two loaves of bread and set them before Tyran. “My finest of both for my most loyal customer.” Yarin smiled. Another day’s light, almost gone.