THE HUNTERS

Zhelavar watched as the Dread Lords tore across the village, her mind cicatrized with images that would influence the rest of her life. She gazed in shock and awe as the three dark riders systematically decimated the populace. Having been little more than a vagabond child, she knew not the loss that was occurring. In her eyes, this was but another change and little else. She watched as the riders sought out each villager, much the same way that she used to track the rats behind the butcher's hut. The scent of the fallen horse that lay burning beside her, the screams of the townsfolk as the horsemen ran them through, and the vision of a violent animal frenzy around her… it was the grown ups playing the hunting game. Images danced in her head, as she pictured herself upon one of those horses, hunting much bigger prey than mere mice in an alley. A stirring occurred to the left of her, and she glanced over to see what it was. An elderly man who was trapped beneath a water barrel had broken free and was crawling slowly away… hoping not to be seen. Zhelavar knew how she despised when the rats would sneak away on her, and her body now shook with contempt for the old man.

Bursting from safety, she leapt out and pounced upon the man. "Hey, this one getting away!", she cried out to the dark riders, "He getting away!" The nearest of the Dread Lords, the archer of the group, rode over and looked in astonishment as the young Zhelavar struggled to hold the crippled old man down. "move kid. Ill show u how to pin them down." He moved his bow aside and smiled. The smile turned to a sinister laughter as he drew a massive crossbow from the horse’s pack. The clicking of the draw gear thundered in Zhelavar’s ears as she watched the archer ready the weapon. The Dread Lord raised the crossbow… loaded the bolt… and fired it deep into the old man’s chest. The body went limp instantly, and an ankh-encrusted stone rolled from the corpse’s hand. Zhelavar looked up at the archer, and shouted, "I helped ya catch him, didn’t I? I did good, right? He was gonna get away. I hate when they get away." The Dread Lord laughed as he ripped reagents and gold from the body, "hehe ur gonna make a good pk one day." Zhelavar hadn’t the slightest clue what that meant, but she didn’t care. She helped a hunter today, and stopped the rat from scurrying off.

The Dread Lords soon rode off, and Zhelavar skipped through the burning town. She beamed with pride and contentment as she made her first promise to herself… she was going to do her best to be just like the hunters she saw today.

A RAT NAMED RAIST

Zhelavar awoke early the next day to the sound of horses. Rubbing her eyes and peering about, she noticed four noble lords of the lands sifting through the remains of the homes. A bit hungry, she approached one of the nobles for some food.

Zhelavar: Got any food?
Raist: check teh bodies. rpers always have food
(Another of the nobles wandered over.)
Cloud: she a thief?
Raist: prolly
Zhelavar: None of them have food.
Raist: hehe too bad for u. guess u hav to starve
Cloud: hehe

Zhelavar grew irate at the nobles standing and mocking her.

Zhelavar: Why ya mean? I didn' do nuthin' to ya and ya being mean!
Raist: im mean bcause u talk stupid and u deserve it
Cloud: LOL
Cloud: im gonna ask scorp to gate us out
Cloud: brb

Cloud ran off to join the other two, and only Raist stood before her. The noble saw that Zhelavar was a bit weak from her earlier encounters. He armed his war axe and shield and towered over her.

Raist: gimme ur stuff and i wont kill u

Something snapped inside Zhelavar. She charged at the noble with all she had left in her. Raist stumbled back a bit, not prepared for the child's reaction. The bounce had knocked a potion loose from his sack... a healing potion. Zhelavar dove on it and drank it, reviving herself to quite a fit condition. "Rat!", she yelled, as she pulled her kryss from her side and charged him. Raist laughed in amusement and brought his war axe down heavy on Zhelavar. The axe ripped through her hauberk and cut deep into her side, however it was snagged on the leather tethers and broke as he went to pull back. Tossing his shield aside, he began to wave his hands and hurl fireballs at the girl. Zhelavar, however, was quite resistent to the lower orders of spells, and felt little more than warmth as she lunged and thrusted with her kryss. "Rat! Rat! Rat!" she filled the air with her maniacal screams as she perforated the knight. She noticed the noble fumble to heal himself with magic, but it was to no avail. Off he ran towards the center of the village, but Zhelavar was quite fast on her feet and caught him quickly.

It was only a few more swings before the noble fell, too fatigued to move. He begged her to stop, and she did... for a moment. She saw, in a pile of embers and wreckage, a bow. She remembered the archer's dramatic finish and wanted to do the same. She grabbed a few arrows off the ground and took towards the bow. The badly wounded noble laughed as she armed the bow and fired three misses.

Raist: lol
Raist: those dont do shit bitch

But he was badly wounded, and the arrow that finally pierced his plate had finished him. Zhelavar gathered what she could of his armor, and headed towards town. A smithy would pay a fine price for his plate and chain. She smiled contently as she began her walk to the nearby city of Britain. With the gold from the armor, she'd be able to eat for days at the inns and taverns there.

"Thanks for the food, rat," she giggled, and continued on her way.

 

 

BECOMING THE RAT

After a few days, the money ran out, and Zhelavar grew hungry again. Just over the bridge on the east side of Britain was a vast grassy area with woods and water on most sides. Zhelavar hunted rabbits and deer, enjoying the chase and the challenge. Her life was simple... she'd wake in the mornings, go hunting all day, eat all eve, and curl up in a treetop at night. One morning she awoke to the sound of a caravan. Looking about, she saw craftsmen, laborers, and mounted guards. Quietly, she slid out of the tree and hid behind it. Staring closer at the caravan, she saw that the carriages were filled with lumber, stone, shovels, and picks. She watched the wildlife flee into the woods as the people shoo'd them away. The city of Britain was expanding. Zhelavar had no intention of leaving her new home. She liked it there and was tired of running.

Trying to maintain her daily routine, Zhelavar hunted away from the builders, but the construction progressed quickly and soon the area of East Britain was completed. Resentment filled the girl, and she vowed that she would not be driven from her home. She bagan living off the people... killing livestock for food, stealing from merchant carts, and robbing those who were unaware. After a while, she became known by the townsfolk. They referred to her as 'the street rat'. Zhelavar was NOT happy with that title! She felt that she was more than a common rat, and believed that she was working for everything she got.

Life changed for Zhelavar, as she was now being run out of every shop and alley that she entered. The citizens no longer tolerated her actions and began attacking her on sight. Common sense would have dictated that LEAVING would be the logical option, but Zhelavar thinks not like the rest of us. To her, this became a challenge. Word spread quickly about town that merchants and hunters were being murdered by the waterside and nearby forests. Patrols were sent out to curb the problem, and Zhelavar was forced even further into the woods.

 

 

 

TASKILITAS RISING

The running and hiding took a toll on Zhelavar. She was no longer as swift and agile as she used to be. Weakened by constant attacks and a lack of food, she grew less active and more despondent. Hostility turned to depression as 'the hunting game' became more of a losing ordeal for her each day. She wandered beyond the swamps and into a large plains, devoid of people. Fatigue beset her, and she dropped exhausted as soon as she reached the water on the other side of the plains. Sleep.

A cool breeze and the sound of the swaying grasses had stirred Zhelavar from her sleep. Standing and stretching, she peered out to the water. Drawing near was a boat with two fishermen. The boat slammed to a stop on the shore, and one of the fishermen addressed Zhelavar.

Silnor: Out here alone, lass?
Zhelavar: Yea. Got food?
Silnor: Aye! A bushel and a peck of fish we've caught today!
Zhelavar: I hungry.
Pantheos: drop anchor
Tillerman: Aye! Anchor dropped.

Silnor disembarked to bring some freshly cooked fish steaks to Zhelavar. With all the manners and gratefulness of a grizzly, she grabbed the steaks and packed them in her mouth as fast as she could eat them. The fisherman looked in shock and pity, offering to take her to Britain with them. Zhelavar smiled. 'That would be nice,' she said, knowing full well that the boat would never reach the shores of Britain if she steps foot on it.

'Unfurl sails,' barked Silnor, 'and start following that map!'
'Aye!', replied the tillerman.

Once they had traveled clear of sight of the shore, Zhelavar began taking a peek around the boat. It seemed that Pantheos was a mage and that Silnor was little more than a fisherman and a merchant. Bit by bit, Zhelavar pilfered reagents from the pack of Pantheos, until one careless slip resulted in a bit of a tug at his pack.

Pantheos: shes a thief!
Pantheos: kill her!
Silnor: Naught but an ungrateful harlot, ye are!

Pantheos raised his hands and arched his back, readying a spell that would never be cast. Zhelavar had already taken most all of his reagents, leaving him near defenseless. Out came her kryss and the mage ran to the other side of the boat. 'I not a rat. YOU the rat!', she screamed as she leapt on him, thrusting the kryss madly into his chest. Then she heard it... the words she would forever learn to loathe... 'Kal Ort Por'. The mage disappeared.

Rage engulfed her. Kicking and screaming, she beat her kryss upon the mast of the ship.
'NO! Not fair! He not allowed to do that!,' she pierced the air with her shrill cries. The fisherman cowered in fear as the crazed woman smashed crates and tore at the sail. Regaining some semblance of composure, she swung around to the fisherman and glared at him.

Zhelavar: Where Pirate Island?
Silnor: What?
Zhelavar grabbed a map from a broken crate and threw it at Silnor.
Zhelavar: I heard no people is on Pirate Island. Show me Pirate Island.

Silnor stuck a pin in Buccaneer's Den on the map and slid it across the deck to Zhelavar. She shoved the map in the tillerman's hand and ordered him to set sail for Buc's.

The fisherman never made it to Buccaneer's Den, as Zhelavar was in the mood for the hunting game after a night of sailing. Another night passed before they arrived at the shores of the island. Zhelavar gathered what she needed from the boat, told the tillerman to sail out, and jumped from the plank to the shore. No people. No guards. Nothing... except rats. Zhelavar frowned a bit, as this first impression of the island was both good and bad. The solitude was welcomed, but the rats were a bothersome reminder of the name given her in Britain. 'I not a rat,' she told herself, and ventured on.

Travelling east through the dense forests, she arrived at what appeared to be a tavern with much commotion inside. She ran around to the front and burst in to see a rogue of sorts taunting the waitress and innkeeper. Chuckling a bit, she watched as the rogue skillfully emptied the satchels of the tavern staff. The rogue noticed her and paused for a moment to talk.

MalicE: ur an archer?
Zhelavar: Yea.
MalicE: that skill kicks ass now
Malice: u a mast...

But Zhelavar heard nothing more. A deafening blast came from behind her and slammed the thief hard. She swung around to see who it was... a mage... an evil looking mage on horseback wearing the same color robe as hers. The mage continued to bury the thief in blasts, never speaking a word. He rode over to his kill and peeled a pouch of gold from the side of the badly burnt corpse. He looked to Zhelavar and made a comment about her bow.

Zhelavar: What with everyone and my bow?!?!
Taskilitas: It's the new thing, baby! Bows kick ass now.
Taskilitas: Nothing compared to magery, but they do kick ass.

Zhelavar looked at her bow, thought for a moment, and then looked back up at the mage. She realized who he was. Images of the burning town and murdered folk inundated her mind. This mage was one of the Dread Lords who leveled that village. She remembered how he was annoyed at the poverty of the people, and their lack of decent quantities of gold on them. His voice echoed in her mind.. 'Damn, we did these guys a favor by killing them. Their lives were pathetic!'

Zhelavar: I know who ya is.
Taskilitas: That's nice. So, do you want a head start,
Taskilitas: or will you face the inevitable and stay still
Taskilitas: while I do my work?
Zhelavar: *blink*
Zhelavar: *blink*
Taskilitas: You're not moving? You really thnk you can take me?
Zhelavar: No, but I don' fight mages.
Zhelavar: They a waste of my time.
Taskilitas: *laughs*
Taskilitas: Why? Because you can't beat them?
Zhelavar: No, cuz they cast a 'runaway' spell.
Taskilitas: I don't recall.
Zhelavar: Got food?
Taskilitas: Um... no.
Zhelavar: I hungry.
Taskilitas: Then buy some from the innkeeper.
Zhelavar: No gold.
Taskilitas: Corp Por
*You see Taskilitas attacking Jenna!*
Jenna: Guards! I pay my taxes, and no guards?
Taskilitas: Corp Por
Zhelavar: *blink*
Taskilitas: There's your gold.

Zhelavar gathered the gold from the body, and purchased some bread and cheese from an extremely frightened innkeeper. After which, she promptly stole her gold back.

Susan: Thief! Guards, kill this rotten scum!
Zhelavar: Rat?!?! I not a rat!

Zhelavar pulled her bow and fired directly at the innkeeper's head. 'I not a rat!'

Taskilitas, and another fellow that had just entered, stood there laughing hysterically. The dead innkeeper lay in a heap on the floor.

Zhelavar: Why ya laughing? Stop it!
Zhelavar: She call me a rat!
Taskilitas: Nay!
The mage had trouble controlling his laughter.
Zhelavar: STOP IT!
Taskilitas: She said you were ROTTEN, you evil little dolt!
Maelifax: But that was kind of funny to see.
Maelifax: Never saw someone shot through the mouth with an arrow before.
Maelifax: *grins*
Zhelavar was embarrassed and annoyed, but she soon saw humor in the event.

Zhelavar: Heehee. I guess it kinda funny.

Taskilitas stopped laughing and rummaged through his reagents.

Taskilitas: Enough play. There are still people alive up by the blacksmith,
Taskilitas: and we need to change that.
Maelifax: Two Lords, too. They're bascinet hunting.
Zhelavar: Are bascinets dangerous?
Taskilitas: Nope. That's why nobility hunt them.

Taskilitas and Maelifax laughed and headed for the tavern door.

Taskilitas: You coming, girl?
Zhelavar: Ya going huntin'? Zhelavar's eyes lit up.
Maelifax: Yeah, hunting. Try to keep up.

The three made their way to what would be the first of a long string of murders together. Taskilitas and Maelifax enjoyed having her with them, as they found her both amusing and an asset to the team. They realized early that, by feeding her, they could keep her relatively docile, and they made a point to 'forget to bring home food' the day of an important hunt.

Alas, all things come to an end and people move one. Zhelavar awoke one day to find that Maelifax and Taskilitas had moved on without her. Packing up what little she had, she wandered the island in search of an unattended boat or a way out. In the northernmost region of the island she had come across a stone archway. In examining it, she had stepped in the center, and was teleported to another gate elsewhere. She was in a jungle of sorts, but she knew it was no longer the Pirate Island. For months she walked and hunted her way across Britannia. She traveled the jungle, then followed a range of mountains, and kept in the same direction until she hit a quiet wooded area.

 

 

LESSON LEARNED FROM BRITAIN

The teleporter was nothing that she was in the mood to question. Rather, she decided to travel on. For months she walked and hunted her way across Britannia. She traveled the jungle, then followed a range of mountains, and kept in the same direction until she hit a quiet wooded area. Birds, deer, bears, and goats all grazed and played peacefully around the area. The hunting game was on again. Zhelavar grew happier and healthier as time went on. She learned to expertly fashion bows. She became quite good at fishing and cooking. A lot of times she would tease and pester the healers. She got a chuckle out of such defenseless people wandering the forests. The healers taught Zhelavar to read a write. They taught her healing and other arts useful to a person of the woods. Mayhaps the healers knew that an active mind and body have no time for idle mischief. It is possible they tried to bury the monster within the girl.

Years pass by, and Zhelavar lived in the tranquility of the forest. All walks played their 'hunting game'... the panthers, Zhelavar, the orcs, everything... it was part of nature and part of fun.

While wandering just west of a maze of hedges, Zhelavar stopped dead in her tracks, a look of horror on her face. Her worst nightmare had come true. Before her, on the road, was a caravan of lumber and stone heading west along the dirt path. Wlby, a nearby healer, saw her expression and tried to calm her.

'Zhel, a small village they wish to build is all. Just a few shops and markets along the path. Naught to fret about.'

But it was too late... the monster had resurfaced, and Zhelavar cared not who they were or why they were there. 'Wilby, I will no longer run,' she stated calmly, 'Nor am I mad. This has happened before, but I was too young and foolish to realize how to handle it. My home has not been taken away, rather, new terrain and a new prey has been given to me. I will hunt the nobles. I will hunt the rangers. I will take advantage of the new hunting game, Wlby. I will hunt the mages, even though it is POINTLESS because they have that damned 'runaway' spell. I will lay to rest each and every human that tosses the skin of animals about and leaves the ribs strewn across the grasses.'

'See, Wlby? I am handling it quite well.' Zhelavar smiled evilly.

'Zhel, I shant tell you what you can and cannot do, but I ask one thing of you: remember the game. The day that you begin to enjoy the kill more than the hunt, is the day that you become like those nobles you despise. Hunt not those that do not run or fight. There is no victory in killing a cowering and motionless prey. Fight not those that do not hunt. A logger is oft not a hunter, and would make not for decent game.'

'Today we go our separate ways, Wlby. I thank you for everything you have said and done and taught. I will use it all to my advantage.... the new game begins today.