The Bitter Mountains: How Varador met the Mercenaries.

This is an autobiographical story of how Varador came to meet the Mercenaries of Bitter Peak.

Deep in the forest, at the base of Bitter Peak, is a lonely place I call home. I am Varador, a young druid, well young as far as elves or goblins go. I live in a land ruled by the so called "Mercenaries of Bitter Peak". Here in my solemn village is what is left of the elves of the bitter peak forest. We have lived here for generations but now we are forced to run at every turn, with only five treants and one ancient guardian to protect us. These walking trees are the last of a once mighty army created by the druids of old, these druids are now referred to as the ancients and an ancient guardian is a treant, with the soul of an ancient warrior. These wonders of war towered high above all others. While most treants stand an easy eight to ten feet, a guardian calmly reaches heights of twenty five to thirty feet.

I currently live alone on the outskirts of the village; I have been assigned as a watchman with my home doubling as my commissioned watchtower. Many people would beg to be assigned such a task; however it angers me to know I have to sit in a tree while my friends are out alone in hostile territory. Even if it is currently an era of peace, soon I am to commit to the way of the druid as was foretold in my life story by the elders. This is an honor for any elf, especially myself being only half elf. Alas I fear my life will crumble and my honor will be diminished, for I have yet to show signs of the magic said to flow through my veins and time is growing short.

"Hey, Varador!" "What?!" I call blindly, not knowing who has interrupted my morning preparations. "Is that any way to greet the one who names you brother?" "Ah Tyrol!" he nearly tackles me with his customary greeting of kin as we pat each others backs mid embrace as if to assure we have not been speaking with a disturbed spirit. "It is great to see you once again but surely you have ran ahead of your party, for we did not expect you back for many a-days rest." I insisted. "True, but it is not so, for we come bearing news that will have to cut our celebrations short." “What has troubled you? Pray tell me it is not the mercenaries that have hastened your return, it was predicted we would have a few seasons time before we even need worry ourselves with their presence.” “This was foretold yes, but it is no longer so. Come, drink with me to our safe return all will be explained by the grand council when they are ready.” “Very well. To your safe return and to the safety of our people in times yet to come.”

I had great trouble partaking in the celebrations, for this news weighed heavily on my mind. I managed a fake smile and an occasional laugh, but the hunting party had not been gone more than a weeks time. With this in mind it would take the mercenaries only another week to reach us, for an army is slower then elves within their own forest. Alas it is still not enough time for us to rid sign of our existence within our current dwellings.

I looked around at the beauty of our current home, despite only living here a few years it looked as though we had been there for centuries. Elven magic, used to forge homes out of living trees. Some walls made out of overlapping roots that left 6 ft from earth to tree that measured an easy 30 feet or more with room dug beneath the ground for storage. Other homes made out of multiple trees woven together to create a spiraling tower of life with space in the middle enough to hold entire families. Truly the most majestic is that of The Great Hall easily fifty yards in diameter with roots larger than most trees, all perfectly shapen and curved to be symmetrical, the very tables at which we dined were grown out of the base of this grand tree. As was the elder council’s raised podium, at which the council will later reveal what shall be done with this incoming threat, however most of us already know, it is an easy guess as to what will happen. We have done this twice before, after the second we had grown used to it. There is a staircase behind the podium, leading up into the tree, where the council chambers and homes of nobility could be found.

“Varador? Are you alright?” One of our table-mates asked. “I’m fine, why do you ask?” I shook my head to clear my thoughts as I realized I must have missed too many jokes. “I don’t know you just seem a bit distant.” I sighed then replied, “I suppose, I have only just realized how much I will miss this place.” The table grew silent. I had not realized till now that it was made up almost entirely of the hunting party that had returned early. It did not take me long to understand that they knew more than they were saying. All eyes were downcast including my own. “We do not have many days remaining in this place do we.” I was met with a silence that echoed the answer I dreaded. “We don’t even have enough time to leave before they reach us, have we” Again silence. “How long do we have...” More earnestly this time. “Two days, Three if we are lucky” Tyrol replied. “And what luck we have, has already left us.” another added. The table grew silent once more. However the silence was quickly broken as the horns used to signal a time of gathering started to blow. “Now we will know what the elders have decided, for these events were never encountered before, and as such any decision they have made could not have been an easy one.” There were a few solemn murmurs of agreement from the table and from the tables surrounding but I took no note of them, because I like everyone else was waiting for the elders’ arrival with enduring apprehension.

After an eternal fifteen minutes had passed the horns blew once more to silence the crowd, as the elders with their heads held high and their walk graceful and fluid in their long golden and white robes, strode up onto the pedestal. There was a moments silence, the head elder took two steps forward until he reached the edge at which all people could see him and he could see all the people. His gaze moved from right to left. He raised his head and swallowed hard as if not even he could believe what he was about to say.

“The village WILL be moving again...” a few murmurs of “I knew it"s and “I told you so's” traveled through the crowd. “...However...” silence struck like lightning in the audience. “Not everyone will be going with us.” the crowd broke into an uproar of anger and surprise, but the elder raised his hand and the crowd grew silent once more. “These brave souls will move to intercept the incoming threat in order to buy us necessary time to escape.” The crowd was too shocked to even whisper. “The selected men and women to do this have already been picked; messengers will arrive at every home to inform families of who has been chosen. Until then I advise everyone to go home and start preparations for our move."

My consciousness drifted and all life around me became a mere blur to my senses, but the crying I could hear, the wailing tears of reopened wounds. Wounds long thought healed from losing over half of our once large and peaceful village. Mother, father, grandfather, distant memories lost with time. I know not of their names or of their greatness, if they had any.

I could feel my emotions grow callous and my heart as hard as the ice over a once great lake hidden by the merciless time of winter. I stood and left the table without a word, heading home. To prepare for war.

The path home was dark and the lanterns that hung alongside the path were already lit. The flames flickered as I passed, the mystery of how they light themselves each night is a magic long lost to our kind. By midnight these lanterns turn blue and the very forest feels to move in their divine light.

I reached my home and started gathering my supplies, a weeks worth of food, a sleeping mat, kindling and firewood. The last thing I gathered was definitely most important. My sword and dagger, elegant in the candlelight, majestic even. Perfectly forged in both weight and shape, their straight blades sharp enough to run even an orc through and refined enough to cut armor like butter.

As I sheathed them across my back and hefted my bags across my shoulder, there was a few quick knocks on the door. I opened it to reveal a short chubby elf obviously tired from the trek to my outcast home.

”I assume you’re here to tell me that I must join the fight.” “ehhh....” he started “Do not fret, I have already finished preparations.” As I moved to step past him he stepped into my path.

“Actually... the council has decided that it is your duty to...” He paused as he noticed the glare I had been directing at him.”To remain here as a future druid who’s magic will be of great importance to our people in times to come.” He finished very quickly as he flinched to a non-existent blow. I merely continued glaring at him till I silently pushed him aside. The council will hear what I have to say about this.

The lanterns along the path were already blue. The short elf had hurried along with his schedule, I assumed he saw the incident as none of his concern, he had done what was asked of him nothing more nothing less. I arrived at the council chamber in which they were still present. They looked up from their argument to see me fully clad in my war gear, they didn’t need to ask why I was there, it was quite obvious.

“Why was I not called to the war with my brothers?” I asked with suppressed anger. “We understand your eagerness to fight... but we need as many men of magic to build our new home.” “This is so but I know you realize that I have yet to show any signs of magic ability, even if at my birth it was determined that it must be so, I am still a warrior.” “Whatever the case, the troops will be backed with the power of the guardian and his treants. However admirable your intentions I am afraid you wont even be needed at the front, so you will not go.” “We shall see about that.” I state before turning my back and marching out the door.

I looked out toward my destination on the horizon only to see a bright orange glow on the far edge of the village. Perhaps torches of war? Our army is not as far off as I originally thought. I ran in its direction but quickly my hope turned to horror as my ears betrayed to me the sound of screams. I ran faster, my adrenaline pumping, it was already obvious that the orange glow was the burning homes of my people. I drew my swords assuming an attack by the mercenaries. Charging forward for only a second, before the true nature of this event revealed itself.

Laying on the ground was a young elf, or what was left of one. For the rest was being devoured by a beast, the likes of which I had only heard spoken of in childhood stories. A Werewolf, hunched over gnawing and gnashing on what must have been a once beautiful woman.

My rage knew no bounds. I lunged forward and stabbed with my right arm. The sound of flesh tearing was unmistakable. My victory was short lived as the beast backhanded me a few yards before I skidded to a stop. It hurt but I was still on my feet. The creature turned toward me having lost interest in the prey that offered no challenge. It charged at me this time, but I was ready for it, I sidestepped forcing him to slow while I cut a large arc straight for his neck. Apparently the beast did have a brain, since it attempted to duck below it. It glanced off his head however and severed his ear. The howl was blood curdling as the beast swung its claws wildly attempting to fight off the pain like an unseen enemy. I swung with my left colliding with his arm, forcing him to stop long enough to run him through the chest with my right. The thing gasped for breath but breathed only its own blood. It fell to the ground with a loud thud but the sound of flames soon drowned-ed out all else.

I looked desperately around for survivors and if need be, a new target. I saw a woman and her kids hiding under the roots of a tree, they stared, wide-eyed at me. The tree had not yet caught fire, but the nearest one was snapping under torment of the flames. I motioned for them to move away, they did but toward me. I was annoyed but still worried. As they ran toward me I noticed they were not as young as they looked, in the light of the flames and stress of grief I could see the subtle wrinkles on the woman's face. I hurriedly moved them to a tree farther from the flames and urged them to keep quite. As I promised them my return I heard a howl from close behind.

I turned around in time to see another werewolf drop to all fours and start charging towards me, I raised my blades once more and prepared for the worst. It was nearly upon me within seconds as the kids behind me began crying in fear. The beast sprang to its hind legs as it raised its claws to the new found prey. Before I could even swing my blade in its direction the beast dropped to the ground, I was so shocked I couldn’t move. Similar gasps of surprise came from behind me as I turned it over with my foot to see a single arrow through its chest.

“Go my friend! Join the fight! Search for others!” I spun around and saw what must have been a veteran for he would have to be quite old to shoot so well and not have been drafted to the fight. “Go I say! I am not yet too old to care for my own family!”

I look once more at the family behind me to see the relief upon their faces before sprinting away. After running wildly for awhile, I realize the fires are so high and the destruction so great around me, that I must be in the middle of the forest fire. I search madly for a way out of the flames, the fire growing ever nearer I start to panic.

A thunderous cracking sound shocks me to my senses, I look up quickly to see a mammoth tree starting to fall toward me. The tree was so large it pushed the closer trees over as it fell. I duck and raise my arm in a vain attempt to stop it from flattening me then and there.

A few seconds passed before I realized that I was still alive. I opened my eyes and saw that the tree had indeed stopped. In fact it looked as though the tree had grown while falling and stopped all by itself. I recognized the strange bent look of the bark and cursed under my breath. Why must the elders always be right! The marks were consistent with the mending spell of a druid.

I moved out from under the tree and climbed up its side, the mere density of the tree made it take a prolonged time to catch fire. It was mostly fallen over already and made a perfect path through the flames, a path I gladly took advantage of. I ran across the tree to the base where the flames were more calm making it easier to maneuver.

I continued running and running and running... till I had to stop to catch my breath. I looked around at the snow like ash coming down and the wasteland that stretched out in every direction. I slumped down against a rock as grey as my mood and the earth beneath me, the sky was still dark. I could not tell if it was the same night or the one after but it was night, for the full moon was slightly visible through the clouds of ash, the ash of my village, and the bodies of my people. I laid my swords to my side and let the dark slumber that had been tugging at my soul finally take me.

I dreamt not of peace nor fear, not of the past or future, only of a misted grey that shows nothing. My own uncertainty perhaps? What am I to do now? My village is gone and the warriors were sent to die to save the ones who are dead as well. All that remains is a future that went up in smoke and dreams that went down in flames. The clouded nothingness faded and started to flash. I opened my eyes to see a rather tall man in steel armor looking down at me. He nodded with a grunt, and a sharp pain in the back of my head told me this must be the end.... Or the beginning...