The First Chapters
I give you now the first story arc for The Dragon of Mysterym with updates. I hope you like it.
Please tell me what you think and point out any errors.
Part 1
Chapter 1
Characters
Ralph Jones: Vet, appliance store owner
Vinnie Tagliony: Mob Captain, cousin to boss Vito Marcozzi
Primo: enforcer
Mickey: enforcer
Mysterious Hero
Atop an anonymous building, with a view for miles sat a figure. From the street you couldn't see him, all that’s visible is a black whisp to the air, some optical illusion. Were you to float from the ground that wisp would start to take shape and suddenly a man, cloaked in darkness would become visible.
Tonight, like so many other nights, he was thoughtful, though you wouldn't know it. He looks as a fierce gargoyle, unmoving and menacing in his flowing dark cloak, surrounded by dark fog. Ears to the wind, this strange demon like figure of a man moves suddenly. He stands gracefully, as if about to take flight, and with a shift of the wind he was gone, only a whisp of black fog remained of his location. The moonlight brightened on the rooftops just then, suddenly the world was brighter.
Across town in an anonymous looking shop in a commercial district, old Mr. Jones hasn't been doing so well with business. Earlier this month his daughter's husband was layed off and good old Ralph, well he thought he would lend them some money till they were back on their feet. This didn’t bother Ralph at the time, business had been good so far this year. As luck would happen that business would run dry within a day or so of lending the cash, due to an economic downturn. Many business owners wouldn't be overly bothered by this, things would catch up next month. Unfortunately, old Jones wouldn't have until next month if he didn't play his cards right. He forgot the small detail of protection money, the unforgivable sin in this neighbourhood. This was Marcozzi Turf. And one late payment brought more than just a second notice.
"I swear you'll have your money soon, I'm just a little short right nooooooowwwww..." Ralph yelped as his wedding band was ripped from his finger by a towering goon holding him up by his shirt collar.
Vinnie, the goon promptly explained "That’s to be expected Mr. Jones, and we in the local protection organization are sensitive to your needs, but you must understand, we can't allow late payments to be made without... fines"
True to his intention Vinnie applied another punitive fine to Ralph as he raised his sweaty beastlike paw and swung open-handed across poor Ralph's face. A terrible moan escaped him along with a little blood. Still holding old Jones up, Vinnie's fist wound around and slammed into the kidneys of the shopkeeper.
Jones thought better of fighting back. In his prime Ralph might have been able to put up a fight against Vinnie, back when Ralph was a soldier. Ralph had done peacekeeping for the UN in the 70s, the blue berets they had been called. That was a long time ago, and near the end of his tour in Syria, tough old Ralph caught a hell of a lot of shrapnel in a flare-up of violence and ended up hospitalized for a few months. After that He wasn't so much of a fighter, not by choice mind you, his body just couldn’t do it anymore. Did he regret it? not for a minute. Ralph was proud to take a hit in the line of duty, and come out alive. After being discharged he returned home to his wife and started a business. The mob had only come in strong in the last decade or so, an expansion of territory in the face of police cutbacks and corruption. The first time they had came Jones told them "fuck off, and shove your protection money up your ass". That was the last time he had been so badly beaten as tonight, a demonstration of force. It worked, and for the last 6 years, once monthly Jones had paid a moderate fee for "protection".
Vinnie dropped him to the floor in a heap. The now fetal Ralph cursed himself for his weakness, and wished this idiot Vinnie and his two buddies behind him could be faced with the fury Ralph could give back in '75.
"Your a good man Ralph, and I'm sure you will be able to make it up next month, after all this is your first missed payment. My associates and I are just here to make sure you don't make a habit of it." Explained the snarling enforcer. one of his friends couldn't contain himself after the few short clever jabs and had to let out a chuckle. "That was a good one Vinnie, we sound like a collection agency". Primo wasn't too bright, and was prone to make these sort of comments. The third member of the party, Mickey was quiet as usual, and kept his hand on his gun. His eyes wandered throughout the shop full of kitchen appliances, he was in the market for a new blender and decided he liked the one to his right. He snatched it up and stated "looks like another late fee boss, you need anything?"
"No, my kitchen is fully stocked, but I think my wife might like some of these pans anyway," Vinnie thought out loud as he swiped a frying pan set from a display and promptly threw it to the ground, with a crash littering the floor with Teflon cookware and denting a nearby oven. "Whoops, hope that isn’t too harsh a mess. I would stay and help you clean up, but we have other business to attend to. You should really get up Mr. Jones, don't want to be lazing about on the job." On the last word Vinnie promptly kicked the still fetal Ralph in the stomach to produce a moan from the still proud shopkeeper. "Well be back in 2 weeks for the remainder of what you owe us and again 2 weeks later for next months payment, and you had better have it." Vinnie and the goons started for the back door of the shop, Vinnie and Mickey carrying their new merchandise, and the money they had collected from the register and Ralph's wallet at the beginning of the "collection".
"Burn in hell.." croaked the shopkeeper blood still leaking from his now bruised face. Ralph had had enough, and though he could hardly move, he was tired of saying nothing in the face of these crooks.
Vinnie turned around just as he was clear from the door to say "What was that old man? You wanna say something to me? Maybe I should come over there and clarify our situation." Vinnie's face was turning to a cruel grin as he brought his new frying pans up and patted them in his hand like a club. What would be harm in going back in and bruising him a bit more, thought Vinnie, rebellion in the smallest form shouldn’t be tolerated.
"Wait out here boys, I think Mr. Jones and I need to have a quick chat before we go, in private." Vinnie looked up the alley at his associates as he explained, and turned back to Ralph heading towards the door. Just as he crossed the threshold with his right foot he noticed a pressure on his left ankle. It barely registered to him that he was being tripped, he was Vinnie Tagliony, cousin to Vito Marcozzi. It was almost as likely for Vito to be slapped in the face as it was for Vinnie to be tripped, especially when dealing with shopkeepers. You just don't say things like that to a made man, a Sgarrista.
Primo and Mickey were stunned, one minute they had been smiling at the thought of the idiot shopkeeper being beaten further after speaking out against them, in an already battered state. When their enemies were being broken, they gained a sense of power after all. The next minute their captain was flat on his face and the source was a foot seemingly appearing out of the wall. It was a foggy night and the figure of a man in a stylish black cloak materialized above the leg as if from the mist itself. He was definitely good at hiding.
Ever the first to react Primo gawked defiantly for only a second before raising his gun alongside Mickey's already cocked pistol and said "Who the hell do you think you are? Your gonna regret doing that." Primo's voice echoed in the cold night air of the alley, which suddenly seemed darker, as though the moon was hiding behind a cloud. His stolen designer jacket ruffled in the sudden burst of wind. The sounds of the city, normally amplified through the narrow alley not 50 metres from the street echoed in a distortion that chilled the normally placid Mickey to the core.
Still leaning prone against the brickwork wall in the back alley our hero casually responds "your going to put down your weapons, and the merchandise you just 'repossessed' from that storekeeper behind on his 'protection money'" along with the cash and leave now, or your going to end up in jail, bloody... its your choice. The old man didn't deserve that beating."
Vinnie, having gotten up, and cocked his pistol walked angrily to the shaded figure "What are you some kind of loony? Do you have any idea who we are?" Vinnie didn't become a made man be becoming quickly stupid and took a moment to note the shaded face hidden by a stylish fedora and the long black cloak-jacket hiding the mans form. He Wore dark black leather boots that were either for fashion or hiking, with their confusing sturdiness but stylish form. In any case Vinnie didn't trust the mans casual demeanour as he leaned against the wall. He was cocky and knew too much, something that could not be tolerated. Though a quick thinker, Vinnie was still too consumed with anger and hurt pride to ignore the fact that he had just been tripped and study this mysterious fellow further.
The shaded figure laughed casually and dryly states "I have every idea, thugs from the Marcozzi crime family, 2 enforcers and a captain, you’ve come to make an example of Mr Jones in there" indicating the shop behind them" and thankfully you chose only to rob him of his merchandise and cash and to rough him up without serious injury, otherwise you wouldn’t have the first option. Am I to assume you’ve chosen option B however?"
The air stilled just then and the stranger tilted his head up just ever so slightly that the mobsters could see the serious look on a hard face. A face weathered by time, but young all the same. And a gleam in the eyes that frightened both of the enforcers, but not the enraged Vinnie. Vinnie had seen similar looks on many mafioso and sometimes on law enforcement officials before, and they had all broken easily enough. Vinnie's pride singed and with contempt he snorted "You wise assed son of a bitch, I’m gonna have fun making an example out of you." Vinnie raised his empty left hand just then to punch the shady man's face. Taking careful aim Vinnie slammed his monstrous paw into the infuriating cocky figures nose.
"Owwww," screamed Vinnie noticing that where once the shaded "wise ass" was had become a brick wall scaring his skin and possibly breaking his knuckles.
"Where the hell did he go?" An enraged Vinnie yelled at his henchmen, waving his gun wildly in the air searching through the fog for the stranger. When did it get so damned foggy anyway? Vinnie could barely see their black hummer 20 feet up the alley. This bastard was quick, but he would learn.
Primo was scared, the alley suddenly seemed much darker, and his friends were breathing way too loud, or was it him breathing loud. He looked around pointing his gun anywhere he thought the bastard might be, and noticed Mickey doing the same thing. He couldn’t help but point out "he disappeared boss."
As Vinnie, at the left of the shop door looked across the alley into the eyes of what he thought had to be his dumbest enforcer in his 4 years as a made man something flashed in his peripheral vision. There 5 feet behind the also dumbfounded Mickey, who stood on the right of the door, was the cloaked figure, seemingly oozing a dark fog.
The man Smiled as they locked eyes and spoke "I've often been told I'm hard to hit, but i'm just as hard to shoot... Please reconsider the first option".
Vinnie, losing his patience walked in between Mickey and Primo to form a diagonal line across the alley, his shiny nine millimetre pistol levelled on the figure reflecting almost as much of the scant moonlight as the wise-guy's gold watch on his other hand. Both enforcers followed suit in levelling their pistols, and Vinnie responded "We'll see about your target record then," followed loudly by "SHOOT THIS MOTHER FUCKER!!!" and they opened fire at will.
Of the three men, Vinnie was most stunned as the figure twisted and turned quickly upon the first volley shots, thinking he had hit his mark, only to be surprised as the mans hands, until now tucked into the pockets of his cloak reached each into this suddenly opening cover as he dodged, and with lightning speed emerged with what Vinnie could only describe in his own stunned mind as "Two big fucking swords" that immediately set themselves ablaze. All the While the shadowy figure twisted and turned avoiding seamlessly every bullet. By the time the swords were out, each of the mafioso were backing away and quickly reaching for their second pistols and began firing again, out of bullets from the clips in their original pistols, and seemingly without the time to reload. Something even odder happened now, the figure stopped dodging, and simply whirled the swords with such speed that it seemed a wall of fire replaced the deadly Asian looking blades. Sounds of deflected bullets showered the alley as the figure approached Mickey, the closest to him. Frightened out of his wits Mickey swore angrily at the swordsman and aimed for his face in dismay as the blades seemingly struck his gun away with the flat of a blade in one quick arc. The blazing heat singed Mickey's eyebrows, noting that his pistol now 10 feet down the alley was partially melted, the fire was real, and he screamed in terror in a way he had not screamed since the age of 5. Before the second was over the man stepped to the side of Mickey as if to pass and slammed his elbow into the enforcers jaw and subtly kneed him in the stomach with such force as he was rendered unconscious and out of breath. As the other two had in turn reloaded their pistols and continued firing on the shadowy swordsman Vinnie felt overwhelmed and ran for the hummer. He was still too full of pride to let his fear swallow him, and instead of driving away like any logical man, he opened up the rear hatch and retrieved his AK-47. As he turned to fire his favourite toy at the figure he watched Primo loose his gun in the same manner as Mickey and receive a quick kick to the head, to lose consciousness.
Roaring with rage Vinnie opened fire on the dark figure now shrouded with fire. The figure still walked slowly toward Vinnie, and lifting his head enough to reveal his face, showed a wise close mouthed smile as he sliced the AK-47s muzzle and kicked Vinnie square in the chest so that the proud Sgarrista landed on his ass in the dirt of the alley, sliding with such a force from the kick that he stopped with a thud against a dumpster across the way from his hummer. Now unarmed and defenceless the snarling mobster looked up at the man and realized he was for the first time in years, terrified. This man was about 6 feet tall even, with a muscle build earlier hidden by the cloak, and now viewable briefly to show he was built like a house as they say. His Caucasian face showed green eyes that glowed with fire as his swords did, a dual set of katana that were engraved with figures unfamiliar to the mafioso, and even to the average swordsman. His black cloak, hat, and boots gave the early sense of nothingness, and his massive hands held the killing blades above the mobster in such a way that he was seconds from wetting himself in a moment of sheer panic.
Vinnie finally stuttered out "wh.. who... who are you?" in a voice filled with terror.
"I was hoping you might ask..." said the hero, "You and your friends are going to spend the night in jail before you manage to get bailed out by expensive lawyers hired by your 'family'" I'm sure there are some outstanding warrants on you that could stick for a few hours. When you do get out though I want you to deliver a message to your cousin. This neighbourhood is no longer your turf, it's under the protection of The Dragon of Mystery."
Vinnie wondered allowed looking into the mans eyes "who?" as the now identified hero kicked him in the jaw to give the mobster a slight nap.
Had one been watching they would have noticed a whisp of fog as the Dragon turned and slipped into the shadows and disappeared. Minutes later an ambulance and 3 police cruisers arrived sirens blazing, tipped off by an anonymous 911 call about an injury and a robbery in Jones's appliance shop. Stunned that all three robbers were in fact notorious mobsters the ranking officer was almost thrown off balance as he turned back towards the building to get another officer with handcuffs and noticed the still flaming letters DM etched into the Brickwork. "Malone, you better call for the lieutenant, he’s gonna wanna see this."
Part 1
Chapter 2
Characters
The Dragon of Mystery aka Randy Gostrym
Young Randy Marsala
Vito Marcozzi: Boss of the Marcozzi Crime Family
Vinnie Tagliony: Mob Captain, cousin to Vito Marcozzi
Primo: enforcer
Mickey: enforcer
Old Man Carlson: Wizard from another realm
“What the hell do you mean sword made of fire? Is that some kind of joke? Did he have a mother-fucking flame-thrower, or are you just losing your fucking brain Vinnie?” Spat the slightly overweight man known to many as Fat Vito. His brow was furled in anger as he sat behind his fine oak desk in a high backed swivel chair.
“ I swear Vito, on Grandma Capine’s grave, it was like something we used to see in those fantasy pictures you took me too when I was in grade school,” Vinnie spoke so fast the words were barely intelligible. “Like we were telling you, all was going according to business and this guy comes out of nowhere and starts tearing our guns to pieces, we didn’t have a chance.” He finished, his greasy face dripping with sweat.
The clock on the wall showed 9am, and Vinnie, Primo, and Mickey hadn’t slept all night between being carted off to jail 12 hours earlier and bailed out only a half an hour later with the help of Jerry Marcozzi, the family lawyer and a partner at the recently renamed firm of Talbot, Johnson and Marcozzi. Jerry had left shortly after the limo ride back to the Marcozzi brothers restaurant, the prestigious downtown Italian restaurant that was the front for the family. There was no worry about a trial, they had every crown prosecutor and judge in the area either blackmailed, on a payroll, or under veiled threats enough that the chance of a guilty verdict was slim to nil, and even if the road did get rocky, the connections with city hall and provincial politicians would cover it.
Between the limo and the boss’s office the entire story had been told twice, and Vito was still unsure weather to believe Vinnie and his henchmen. “And you two are also sure of all this, this bastard wasn’t quite human and he challenged our authority over the territory”
Before Primo and Mickey spoke they both nodded vigorously and started to mumble incoherently interrupting each other. Vito held up his hand and nodded, his prematurely grey hair revealing a pained expression on his scarred face.
“Fine, we’re gonna have to hire some outside help to whack this freak.” Vito’s face quickly became solid and angry as he looked out the window at the rainy street below. “This son of a whore will have to learn not to challenge the Marcozzi family. But if he’s too quick to shoot and can pop out uv fucking nowhere we’re gonna need someone who’s dealt with this kind of freak-uv-nature before. I think it was our associate little jimmy in Chicago who told me he had to hire some supa-powered weirdo to make a hit a couple uv years ago,” his accent thickening as he spoke each sentence, anger building. “I’m gonna make some phone calls and see if I can get us some talent to face this fucker.” He turned to look at his cousin and two loyal soldiers “If all goes well you will have someone to accompany you when you make the Thursday collections next week as though nothing has happened, and when this bastard comes out of the fuckin wall he will have someone to keep him busy enough for you to shoot his ass.”
Vinnie looked at his cousin as if to thank him “and I will make that fucker sorry he ever crossed us.”
“Just go get some sleep and try not to get your legs cut off by any other freaks.” Vito chuckled at his cousin. As he pulled a rolodex out of his desk.
Not more than 2 miles away on a dirty side street there was a beaten up residential motel with a man was laying on a bed in a cramped little room. He looked forward out his 3rd floor window above the kitchenette holding a sink and a hotplate. It was raining, almost always raining in this city. The man, Randy, liked that. It reminded him of the forest for some reason. Part of Randy loved the city, especially at night, but another part of him longed for the woods where he had had so many good times. On the coat rack was a long cloak so black it seemed to the eye that it made that it drove the light out of that part of the room, topped by a fine black fedora.
“Why did you have to stir the fucking nest Randy?” he asked only himself angrily slamming his hand against his bare chest. His shirt, actually magical armour, was draped over the chair at the desk on the other side of the room 5 feet away along with similar looking pants. Below the chair sat a set of thick black boots, arm bracers, and two sheathed black katanas piled in a heap. As for the rest of the tiny room, the only other items were what you would expect from someone in such a hotel. What looked like a small backpack hung on the end of the bed, a pan and cooking tools sat in the sink, a few grocery bags hung from the coat rack filled with snacks, and in the closet sized bathroom was a shaving kit. No pictures were hung and nothing outside the armoured clothing and swords set this room apart from any other housing the numerous drifters in the hotel.
The man sat up and looked more intently into the rainy city; over the smaller buildings in his view he could see the ocean drifting around the peninsula that was this part of the city. Across the little inlet he saw more sprawling city, and then mountains. Nature set his mind at ease. Still he was troubled as he talked to himself. “I suppose I couldn’t just let them beat up that poor old bastard… still it would have been easier if I had just killed the rats” he had stirring like this since arriving at the room at sunrise. He had planned to wait and see the extent of the mobs activity in this city since he arrived last week, after hearing rumours of the corruption that had slowly chocked the port town. “Nobody should have to suffer the abuse from the mob…” he thought out loud and a tear rolled down his face as he reminded himself why he had to do this. After a few years of drifting from city to city, trying to find a niche and cleaning up the streets he had only run into a few demons and some petty street gangs. He struggled, despite the fact that he knew these ordinary men with fancy suits and expensive guns were a plague on the town, and by far an easy enemy to crush for a warrior of his prowess. “They aren’t even the same people… and still you let these fuckers bother you… why Randy.”
He lay back down, not sleeping really, he hadn’t slept in a few years, but he still benefited from a few hours of restful meditation each day. It was much harder to rest his mind today than usual, but he slipped into a state of peace after a few minutes of heavy breathing.
Sometimes Randy wished he could sleep like he had as a kid, peaceful in his bed, dreaming about simple things like girls, sports, and fast cars. But those days were long gone. They died the night he saw his dead family in the living room of his suburban house. It had only been 8 years, but for him it was a lifetime ago.
They had recently moved to a new town, a small city on the other side of the country. He and his sister had come home from school one day at 15 and their father and mother had all their things packed as if they were going on vacation. Within hours they were on a plane bound for some city he had never heard of in the middle of nowhere. His parents had some crap story about how they had to leave town and move because of a new job opportunity, and there just wasn’t time to pack all the furniture and hire a moving van, besides it would be cheaper just to buy all new things for the new house. His sister bought it, but he didn’t. After seeing some of his father’s friends in the newspaper and on TV a few times, it became clear they were involved with the mob, and now something was wrong. “Serves the bastard right,” Randy thought. Bob Marsala had been a great provider, as there was always money for food and creature comforts, but his communication with his son and daughter was limited to interrogating questions, criticism of their appearance and choices, and drunken yelling. Randy’s mother had turned a blind eye to her husbands sins, still remembering the lovable boy she once dated even when he began to hit her when drunk, only a few years after their son and daughter had been out of diapers. Randy had known she was afraid of Bob, but at the time so was Randy.
More than sleep, Randy wished he could turn back the clock and save his mother and kid sister. Unfortunately that was one magic Randy could not find a master of, and the night had come a few months after moving that Randy came home after sneaking out to a movie with some new friends only to find a familiar looking anonymous black sedan in the driveway. Cautiously he snuck up to the living room window and peeked through the gap in the curtains to see two men he was sure he had once met, Charlie and Al, each holding a pistol and looking over three bound forms on the ground. Randy stared at the pool of blood being fed by the holes in the bodies as he realized who they were. He gagged and threw up in the bushes under the houses front window. He pulled out his cell phone and quietly called 911. When the operator picked up he couldn’t remember what to say, just gave his address and whispered “come quickly.” When he hung up he realized that Al was on a cell phone also, and pacing back and forth getting increasingly agitated.
Through the thin window Randy could hear Al shout as he hung up the phone “I told you the rat-fink had another kid, now we gotta find him before someone figures out these fuckers are dead and the cops get involved.” Randy knew then that he should run, but he stood stock still, in shock as he could have sworn Charlie looked in his direction quickly before looking at Al and saying something and pointing to the door.
That did it, and Randy jumped and started running across the front yard and jumped the fence into the neighbour’s back yard as he heard the front door open and Al yell as he spotted him. Randy ran like he had never ran before, hopping fence after fence, and darting through alleys and across streets. For the first 6 minutes or so he could hear the mob footmen behind him and silenced gunshots squeeling through the night air. At that point he heard one say to the other “go back for the car, we’ll cut him off.” A few more minutes passed by and he was beginning to lose the remaining enforcer. Shouts of muffled swears could be heard from a few yards in the wrong direction and Randy found his way into the yard of a large abandoned looking Victorian mansion. In the recent months he had been in the town he learned that the place belonged to an old crackpot that didn’t get on well with others. He had been there for decades but was barely seen by anyone. Desperate for a hiding place and hearing the roar of a car motor from nearby, Randy dived through an open basement window, and made a rough landing on an old man, tumbling together onto the floor of a cavernous chamber that looked like what once was a ballroom.
Randy felt as though he had entered some odd dream. As he dove through he heard a man yelling only a moment too late, chanting some foreign language and reaching a final climax just as Randy landed on him. In the portions of seconds of landing Randy somehow absorbed the surroundings. Underneath him was a crumpled man wearing an odd purple robe and a big stick with an orb on the end of it. Ten feet in front of him was what appeared to be a giant black dragon like what he had only seen in movie effects, wrapped in what looked like glowing blue lines of air. As the man under him was crumpled he managed to finish his words as though nothing had happened.
Still unsure of what he was seeing Randy was struck square in the chest by black lines of electricity originating from the Dragon and he was thrown from atop of the crumpled man at the spoiled completion of what turned out to be a very evil mage’s spell. The Dragon groaned and shuddered dieing and black smoke escaped from its nostrils, and what looked like a grin crept over its long scaly face. “Your efforts fail you wizar…” the Dragon croaked and stopped suddenly, its eyes going blank.
Randy felt funny all over. Where seconds before he felt fatigued from fleeing and bruised from the fall, he his limbs were energized enough to run a marathon and his recent scratches and scrapes were rapidly regenerating.
“DOOO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU LITTLE IMBECILE!!!” an enraged voice blared from beneath the still stunned Randy, as he felt himself being thrown off of the crumpled man. The evening had just gone from tragic to weird in Randy’s mind, and things were just too much to comprehend. As he looked at the crazed figure the locals refered to old Mr. Carlson he became petrified. The seemingly withered old mans aged skin showed years of wear and poorly hid the tense pulsing muscles of a furious madman. “Five years I have toiled in this realm, procuring rare reagents for that spell, 2 more years finding an adequate shadow dragon to lure into a trap and transport to my laboratory only for you to foil all of my labour.” A malicious glare froze into the man’s decrepit face. His brow was pushed into a mountain of ripples that seemed to extend to the middle of his balding spotted head, framed by a remaining ridge of hair above each ear and made more ferocious by a pointed hawk like nose that seemed to be finding someone to peck. “Who sent you boy? To spy on me or to steal my spell?” He spat, his tense snarl fizzling with frustration. “Was it the archduke of necropoly, or was it that bitch sorceress queen of Atlantica?” he menaced over Randy now, confusing the teen.
The candlelight in the room darkened near Randy quite suddenly as he stood up defiantly looking at the snarling old man. He started to feel aggressive, and resent the crackpot. What was this man talking about? ‘archduke? Sorceress? And was that a real dragon, it just couldn’t be? And what was happening to him, he felt lighter than air? “What are you talking about? I don’t know who your talking about or who you are.” Randy looked up at the surprisingly tall old man, who now held a very youthful posture.
“Don’t play dumb with me, boy!” he paused calming himself “Perhaps it does not matter who sent you. Despite the fact that my spell was ruined, I will not be completely without joy tonight, as I can take pleasure in pealing off your skin, inch by inch with a favourite spell of mine. Then I will summon a hell hound to devour the flesh as it still hangs from your bones.” The old villains face twisted into a smile as he held up his staff and menaced over Randy. “Yes I think that my evening’s entertainment may at least by salvage…What are you doing?” The wizard quickly interrupted himself staring at Randy’s impressive physique, now being surrounded by a menacing dark cloud to match the determined stair Randy answered the wizard’s intimidation with.
“You don’t scare me Old Man, I don’t know what you did to me, and I don’t care. I just went through hell and you could not make my night any worse than it is. But if you want a fight, you picked the kid, otherwise get out of my way, I’ll be leaving.” Randy stared defiantly at the man, internally frightened by the threat he had just been handed, but determined not to show it.
“Perhaps you would be more valuable to me alive, after-all my young fool,” Carlson menaced again, brandishing his staff as though ready to club Randy. “It seems as though you will be capable of taking that lizard’s place in my experiment, now since time is of the essence I will only ask you once to sit on the floor there,” he indicated to a spot next to the now unmoving dragon surrounded by blue bands of energy.
“So you can do to me what you did to that thing? I don’t think so,” Randy Spat. He might have been a little confused, but he wasn’t born yesterday. Clearly the old man had unkind intentions.
“Arrogant brat… If you will not co-operate, you will wish for the quick death my spell will bring you when it’s through.” The wizard stepped toward Andrew and began to say something while moving his staff and empty hand together in a circular zigg-zag pass through the air.
Instinct welled up inside Randy to pull up his left arm, along with a whisp of the black mist, up in front of him, while he dove to his right. A split second later a bolt of purple lightening came from the wizards grizzly right hand. It was swallowed in the black mist in spot Randy had been a split second before, where it fizzled as though eaten by the darkness.
Now enraged and driven by adrenaline and anger after losing his family Randy moved with inhuman speed punching the old man in the face. Ready for an attack the Old man countered by whipping the ball end of his staff into the back of the boy’s head.
Randy was flung to the floor a few feet away, but now energized and feeling lighter than air he rose to his feet in the manner a ball bounces from the ground when dropped. Instinct was taking over in Randy further, and he sensed he would not win a fight with the enraged magic user. Lighter than air Randy more willed himself than ran towards the door behind the dragon, the only one he could see, and with each step he felt himself become less and less solid, almost as though he were becoming the smoke around him.
The wizard wasted no time in taking chase after Randy, hell-bent on capturing the boy. His hands flew through a series of motions and his mouth wove incantations spewing fireballs and lightening bolts after the boy. Oblivious to this Randy’s now shadowy form floated through the now half obliterated door and through the hallway.
Desperate to find an escape the shadowy Randy peered through his eyes seeing a dark world around him as he ran. The details were skewed and he could see beyond the walls themselves, as though they were no longer solid. Nothing was wholly solid, although he could only see a little ways past a wall or a door. Through one of the doors he saw a glow, and instinctively dove for it. Behind him he felt heat that should have melted him, but for some reason that didn’t seem to matter. Even in his panicked state he had a clarity of motion, and his superhuman speed seemed not to matter, for the world around him was clear. There in the other end of the room was what looked like a standing mirror the size of a doorway where the blue glow was coming from. Randy dove for it.
The wizard lunged over beams of wood fallen from the ceiling and walls, remnants of his fireballs and lightning bolt blasts after the boy who was more and more rapidly taking a form in the shadow realm, one of many powers available to shadow dragons. Frustrated and knowing they would have likely little effect, and in a rare moment of impatient rage he continued to throw different degrees of destructive elemental spells at the boy, hoping the impudent child had not enough understanding of his new abilities in order to be immune to such quick destructive spells. He had much more potent spells at his disposal, but he had too many valuable magical items and reagents in the rooms around him that he couldn’t risk destroying. The whelp dove into one of the mage’s small studies. As Carlson kicked in the door he cast his most powerful fireball at the shadowy child who as luck would have it was diving through one of his portals to Curvaturn. The oversized fireball smashed the portal and cut the wizard off from his prey.
Anger surged through the man the locals knew as “Old Man Carlson”. To many however he was the dreaded Carlandic, a powerful wizard with influence in many kingdoms of Curvaturn. He also had many enemies. Stealing the life force and power of that aged shadow dragon would have given him a tremendous boost in magical power, resistance, physical strength, and a few abilities natural to shadow dragons. He had been mistaken in thinking his experimental spell had failed completely, and only too late did he realize that the effect had hit the boy instead. The boy’s fall had altered the spell in its final chanting to redirect the reception to the position the mage had been in, not to the mage directly. “He will pay for robbing me… dearly,” a shout to no one in particular. The mage pondered the fact that with that portal broken, by the time he built a new one the powers the boy had gained would have become permanent, and due to the nature of the spell, could not be transferred again once permanent in the spell recipient. If Carlandic were to gain the powers available from an old and powerful dragon, he would have to trick another. That was likely impossible, word had spread far and wide once he betrayed his alliance with the now dead Blacktooth the Powerful when he captured him in a powerful trap. No dragon of any substantial power in Curvaturn, or even the few that remained on this predominantly human called earth. Five years of work were foiled, but he would find a new way to grow more powerful, he had been doing so for three centuries and a minor setback like this was minimal in retrospect. At least he would have a new revenge project, perhaps this boy of shadow would be a challenge to find and destroy.
Part 1
Chapter 3
Characters
The Dragon of Mystery
Young Randy Marsala
K’thock: goblin hermit
Gunthar: Elf, commander of the New Brook City South Caravan for the South Woodhills Regional Trading Company
Chesterbeard: half dwarf, second in command for NBC South Caravan
Jack: half elf, worker in caravan
Various other caravan attendants
Rain fell on the forest floor. The clouds were blocked from view by the thick canopy above. Hundreds of animals could be heard going about their lives oblivious of each other. It was late at night, or early in the morning, depending on perspective. To a lone goblin marching through the woods trying to find breakfast, it was morning. K’thock the son of the weakest hunter in the spearhead tribe had been banished a year ago. Since then he had been carving a life within the vicinity of the wooden hut he built in the middle of this quiet forest section. Something soured the air, he sensed magic brewing. K’thock didn’t trust magic, and he had often been on the receiving end of disfavour from the village chief because of the high priest’s dislike of him. The shamen was as manipulative as any other mage in K’thock’s opinion, always casting spells to seem impressive, manipulating the stupid, bah. The magic got stronger and about 100 paces away a portal opened spewing blue energy and a shadowy form fell from it, landing with a thud.
Randy was in pain. Not a lot of pain, but enough pain struck him that he knew one or two of those fireballs or lightening bolts had done at least a little damage to him. He also knew that he was no longer being followed and he was flat on his face on soft wet earth. Instinct told Randy to get up, to let his body become light and shadowy again, but Randy was getting sick of running and hiding. He wanted a minute to breathe. After a second of feeling the soft earth and hearing the sounds around him however, he knew that if he did not get up soon, he would start thinking about his mother, and his sister.
Randy got up, and looked around. Finally having a moment to move around he noticed that he had tendrils of shadow all around him, and that he could feel through it. It was a new awakening, and he could manipulate how much dark mist surrounded him. It felt like a shield of sorts and he knew that it was in part responsible for his lack of injury from fire. What burns did come were healing rapidly.
“Looks like we’re not in Kansas anymore” he said to himself, absorbing the area around him. The woodland looked like it had been untouched by the modern world. He thought to himself ‘How the hell did I get to some rainforest?’ “Look at the size of these trees” he started thinking outloud while rain dripped all over him. “Lucy would love this place, and those bugs…” he stopped short, Lucy, his little sister, was dead and would never be around to lecture him about nature ever again.
“I swear I’ll get them little sis.” Tears streaked down his face as it finally took hold of him. He was far too angry to really be sad. “I’ll avenge you and mom and even our no good father, the rat bastard who caused this mess. Damn him!!” his now tear stained face masked itself in shadow creating a frightening illusion. “Didn’t he stop to think he would get everyone killed, playing games with those people. The idiot wanted to play mafia, well he got what he wanted.” He was getting really angry now, finally able to let loose his tension “I swear I’ll get the bastards who did this to you, as soon as I find out how to get out of this fucking forest. Where the hell am I!” he stammered and yelled his question to the trees.
“Your be in forest, magic human! Now be quiet, you’ve scared my rabbit away with your yelling, and K’thock needs food!” the forest yelled back, startling Randy. He looked around and saw a little greenish man with a gnarled face walking towards him.
“Well I’m sorry K’thock, but I’m a little upset right now, after seeing my family dead, being attacked by some crazy old man who cast an accidental spell on me, and landing in some bizzaro-world forest. To top that all off I’m talking to a…what are you?” Randy ranted at the goblin unsure of what to make of all this. Was it all some horrible dream?
K’thock looked him down, seeing no obvious threat. The human was upset and had suffered loss. He and K’thock had something in common, they were both now alone in the world. “You very strange human, but very funny. K’thock like you, maybe I not stab you for scaring away my breakfast” The Goblin stood waist high to the teen and continued “K’thock too lose family, tribe Shaman kill father and mother, blame K’thock. Mage kill human’s family too? Bahhh mages”
“Mage… That’s what the dragon called old man Carlson, and he used magic,” Randy reasoned to himself. “No, they weren’t ‘mages’ they were mobsters,” Randy looked at K’thocks confused stare as he explained; at least he thought it was confused. “Thugs, criminals, you know? They were the enforcers for a larger family of criminals, and my father was a part of the family, but he crossed them and they came to kill us,” He explained it rather matter-of-factly, and it almost felt good. The sadness was gone, and he was motivated by anger.
The goblin weighed the information and spoke “Sounds like thieves guild… K’thock hear about thieves guild in human and elf cities from storyteller when young, very bad. What about dragons? If one is nearby we should leave, very dangerous.”
“No, the Dragon is dead, the wizards spell killed him and did something to me the wizard didn’t like. It’s very strange” He looked at K’thock who motioned they should move the way he had come from.
“Come, we will eat and then K’thock tell you how to get to nearest city.” The Goblin explained as they walked. “It nice to talk to someone, been long time since K’thock leave tribe,” he was almost growing fond of the boy.
“You know, you still haven’t told me what you are anyway K’thock” Randy asked the surprisingly helpful little man, who motioned him to stop and pointed at a large hare sniffing a tree nervously.
K’thock pulled a rounded dagger from his belt and held it above his right shoulder, his arm tense, and with the speed of a cat he flung the dagger spinning through the air, its curvature forming a spinning ring of razor sharp death that struck the hare directly in the abdomen behind its left shoulder. “K’thock is proud goblin, exile from the spearhead tribe, and son of Zark,” the hunter explained as he picked up his prey, cleaned it on a nearby rock and cleaned his dagger within a minute, and continued conversing “Who be you human, and where do you hail from?”
“I’m Randy Marsala, or at least I was before my family was killed, and the son of a rotten scumbag. I lived in a middle of nowhere town called Fieldbrook since a few months ago, but I’ve lived in a different place every few years my whole life, Dad couldn’t seem to get along with the associates he made and then robbed.” He didn’t know why he was telling this strange little goblin all these things. He wondered how the hell he was talking to a goblin, and if he was actually just losing his mind.
They walked, talking as though friends in that way for a while, and reached a small wooden shelter that looked like a poorly made log cabin made of thick sticks stacked vertically and bound together so that each stick was connected to the one beside it at the top and the bottom, to make the walls, and a roof that looked to be made of bark, boughs, and sticks to support it. It looked like a very comfortable residence, for anyone less than three feet in height. There were five thick trees very close together behind the house that seemed to act as a rear wall in part, and the lower branches seemed to support the roof at a closer inspection. K’thock sat down on a carved wooden bench a few feet from the hut in front of a rock that reminded Randy of a coffee table. Beyond the rock coffee table was a fire pit that had been frequently used. The rain had cleared by now and with more expert speed K’thock skinned the Hare and placed it on a large stick for a makeshift rotisserie. Randy was waiting to see what happened next and sat down on the bench, with his feet up on the table when K’thock ran into the hut for some reason. It seemed odd, when considering there was no fire under the breakfast.
“What are you doing in there K’thock? Don’t we need to start a fire?” he had to ask, it was just too odd.
“The wood is wet, so we use fire magic,” K’thock explained as he came out of the hut with a katana so big it looked like it would slide from his grisly little hands any second. He walked up to the fire pit, threw on a chunk of wood from the pile and loosed the sword from its sheath and pulled it free to show a shimmering metal blade that with a second of being loosed from its sheath erupted into a hot red flame. The little man seemed to use very little effort to whack the log with the blade, which also erupted into flame. He then rested the blade on the hair for a moment before sliding the weapon back into its holster where it was extinguished on contact. Randy stared in amazement. He was surprised this shocked him; it was fitting for all he had seen in the last few hours. K’thok looked at him “mages may be very bad most of time, but they make very good tools and weapons.” There was a bold smile on the goblins face, he seemed to be quite happy for the mornings conversation, and had obviously been without company for some time. “The swords too big for K’thock, so you take them when you leave. I find on body after bandits fight caravan weeks ago. Many things left on road when caravans attacked. Sometimes bandits die and left for dead by traders, traders too careless to grab loot. They make good firestarters, but better swords for big arms eh?”
“K’thock, I couldn’t take the sword, that must be worth a fortune, and I have nothing to give you for it, not to mention for the meal. Why are you being so nice to me anyway, I thought goblins were supposed to be mean,” Randy was stunned at the offer.
“Silly human, Goblins only mean when threatened. Some tribes warlike, other tribes not. K’thok have other fire starters, swords just more fun. You have no weapons, and seem very lost. These woods very dangerous, and the cities more dangerous. K’thock think you come from other world though that portal. Human must find his way, and K’thock happy to help,” the surprisingly kind goblin smiled up at him, before running back to the hut and returning with another katana to match the first. The sheaths had little leather loops on each of them that Randy was quickly able to fit into his belt. As he did this the goblin pulled the now steaming hare from the fire, cut it up with his dagger and pulled out some seasonings in little satchels he had brought from the hut to dust the meat with spice. He slid half the meat to Randy’s side of the table
“I don’t know how to thank you K’thock, I’ve lost everything, and then you feed me and give me these amazing swords, these sorts of things can’t be common even here in … what is this place anyway? You said something about other worlds didn’t you?” Randy was starting to ramble again, getting a little overwhelmed by the goblin’s generosity. The pair started eating the meat, and K’thock said nothing. “This is amazing, what did you put into the meat?” Randy finally asked him.
“Mushrooms, dried spice leaf, and on your meat poison,” K’thock kept eating his breakfast and looked into the fire, his smile getting wider.
“POISON!” Randy leapt up and jumped back staring at the goblin who continued looking into the fire pit for a few seconds while silence levelled in the forest. If K’thock hadn’t of been laughing so hard he would have seen a dark shadow fall on that section of the forest and whisps of darkness seemed to swirl around him.
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahhaha,” K’thock fell to the ground laughing and rolled around for a second before he started saying “No poison, was joke silly human. K’thock got you. He he he he” He went on laughing for a while longer before he finally could come to say “Your face go purple when K’thock say poison.”
Randy started chuckling to himself as soon as he regained his breath, and a broad smile graced is face. The darkness had vanished in a flash, and Randy wished he hadn’t of noticed how easily he brought forth all the shadow when he felt he was in danger. The scope of his having new abilities was starting to dawn on him.
When they had finished eating, K’thock explained to Randy that a caravan of dwarf merchants went by on the nearby road every 20 days, transporting supplies and consumer goods from a few cities on one side of the forest to a very large city on the opposite side of the forest, and was certain to be coming through today. The forest was very large and flanked on the west side by a steep mountain range and met the ocean to the east and to the south where two cities sat within a day’s journey from each other. Fifteen days of walking through the forest north would bring the caravan to New Brook City at the edge of the forest. New Brook City was supposed to be a major trading port for this continent, as it was on a large river which ran another 20 miles to the ocean. Ships came in with goods and left with goods. Traders came and went from all roads throughout the continent with goods to and from the nearby cities where they either were bought, continued on along the roads or were transported to other convoys. Many villages and small camps also were on or near the main roads and the trade caravans stopped at them also. The description K’thock gave seemed to have many warnings about dangerous bandits and monsters along the road, which made Randy wary but K’thock finished by saying “And now we will go to road and you join up with caravan in exchange for providing them with labour along way. Is pretty standard act.” With that he got up and started walking and Randy was left with no choice but to follow.
They followed a barely visible trail on the forest floor for a few miles until it intersected a large dirt road, above which the canopy broke enough to see bits of blue sky and birds chirping. Randy Liked a clean blue sky, but for some reason he felt instinctively troubled by the open air and light, like he was vulnerable and too visible. Come to think of it, he had been having that feeling ever since the rainy darkness turned to rainy light shortly after he first met K’thock. “Listen K’thock, thanks again. I’ll come back and repay you some day if I can,” he hoped that was a worthwhile thanks, he couldn’t make guarantees.
“Maybe you bring K’thock breakfast and swords next time,” the goblin playfully jabbed Randy in the side and continued “K’thock be happy for the company, Randy a welcome friend for lonely goblin. Now watch out for bandits and monsters, sometimes the caravans don’t always win.”
There was an awkward silence for about 5 minutes before the caravan started to arrive with impeccable timing. About 8 horse drawn wagons filled with supplies and bundles and goods piled high escorted in front by 4 mounted riders and 6 walkers, and the same arrangement in the back. The riders were almost all human, except for one in the front who was much more slender but with a masculine face and long pointed ears, Randy wasn’t entirely surprised to discover an elf. Of the 12 walkers, there were 4 humans, three more elves, 4 heavily armed broad, squat, short men with beards Randy could only assume to be dwarves, and one tiny little woman scarcely bigger than K’thock and armed on either side by two broad and curved short swords hanging in decorated sheaths on either side of him. Each cart had one driver holding reigns and one man or woman of some race or another playing the shotgun roll. Most shotgun riders were armed with either a longbow, or a compact crossbow in their hands and a quiver filled with arrows on their backs, but two of the 8 riders, a burly looking dwarf on the first wagon and a small human woman on the second from the last cart carried what looked like old hunting rifles, only decorated ornately the way the swords, daggers, bows, and numerous other weapons carried by the members of the group were. This was truly shocking to Randy, he was starting to believe this was a land back in time with the mythology, but there was obviously some influence of technology from what Randy knew as his world.
As the Caravan approached K’thock held out his hands and waved in the air the international symbol for ‘look at me’ and said “Halt, we have business.”
The lead elf rider looked down at K’thock and said “What business have you with us little goblin?”
K’thock stared at him as though completely unimpressed by the man. He had long red hair nearly hiding his six inch tall ears, striding down his onto the sheath of a massive sword strapped to the riders back. He wore a brown worn leather long sleeved shirt and pants that appeared seamless. They were adorned with stylized design that seemed to be carved into the leather. In this new world it was obvious there was more to the leather than a simple Davy Crocket fashion resurgence. “The boy needs passage to the city, from there who knows. He will work to join you, and may be valuable to you. He is a mystery to the forest. Good day,” was the simple message from the simple goblin who then turned to Randy “Good luck mystery man, and be careful with those dark shadows, could be trouble,” he turned and walked away stunning Randy, who thought the dark shadows and smoky substance was invisible to the Goblin who hadn’t made any comments. Odd.
“Well I suppose we are obliged to let you on with us, we ride to New Brook City 7 days distance. If you work well you will be paid 20 gold coins and will be asked to rejoin us for the next trip, but I warn it is not easy labour. You will unload and reload stock at each stop along the way, transport it to the costumer’s wagons, and help set up and pack up camp every night and morning. If you have skill at hunting, you may also help us to take down game. Prove yourself of worth at these tasks and you will be well paid, fail to be useful and you will be unpaid. I am Gunthar, the commander of the New Brook City South Caravan for the South Woodhills Regional Trading Company, and you will report directly to me, and follow orders from my second in command Chesterbeard,” he pointed to the brown haired dwarf with an incredibly large axe on his back walking near the rear of the convoy. “Take a place at the back of the convoy, and listen to Chesterbeard,” he started his horse up again and the caravan started moving once again.
Randy stepped in after all 8 wagons laden with supplies passed the spot on the side of the road where Randy stared in awe at the different caravan riders and protectors and their arms and armour; he fell into step beside the one who was indicated to be Chesterbeard. “H… Hello, I’m Randy,” he introduced himself to the group as they walked.
Chesterbeard reached a hairy sleeveless right arm across his body, motioned for a handshake to Randy on his left and nearly tore his arm off with a smile as he shook the all too traumatized teen and greeted him “Chesterbeard’s the name, damned pleased to meet you. Don’t yall mind Gunthar, he’s in a bad mood because a trade we were s’posed to make last night turned sour on us. Always glad to have a new man on the team, tell me are yall gonna consider as to stayin with us? By the way yer dressed something tells me you’re new to Curvaturn, and I don’t have many friends from back earth.”
“Wow… uh I didn’t expect that Mr. Chesterbeard… could you let go of my hand please, its hard to walk while turned like this, great shake you’ve got though. Did I hear a ‘yall’ in that sentence? Well I haven’t really thought about It, If everyone is as friendly as you I might consider sticking around, I really don’t have anywhere to go… What do you mean by Curvaturn?
Chesterbeard looked him over with a sombre face and smiled “So you really ain’t from around here. How did you find your way to Curvaturn? That’s the name of this world, it used to be a longer elfish word but we use English and a few of the other earth languages now for ease of commerce and it was shortened. There was definitely a yall in there and you’ll notice bits of drawl in my voice some times because I was born in Texas, and my mamma was human. A lot of us traders are mixed race. If yer not going anywhere in particular then, why don’t you tell us how you got here? And I’m sorry about the handshake, I get a little excited,” The dwarf gave him a very friendly smile.
One of the human’s on horseback piped up with a very flat west coast accent “A little excited is right, when you found out I was from LA you nearly ripped my arm clean out of its socket with the shake.” He started laughing “If you’re arm wasn’t wrenched by Chester’s monster grip then you have a hell of a strong arm on you Randy. I’m Jack, nice to meet you” he rode easy with his head turned back to smile at Randy, and his shoulder length blond hair shifted enough that Randy could see a point to each of his ears enough to realize that Jack wasn’t quite entirely human. Upon further examination he looked to be wearing faded blue jeans in his saddle that contrasted largely with what looked like a jacket made of some kind of scales, almost snakeskin but much thicker looking, obviously armoured. Thick black boots were also noticeable, reminiscent of the models found easily in military surplus stores. He wore a dagger from his belt and Randy suspected… no he knew there were more weapons inside Jack’s coat. Wait something else wasn’t right, there were wires running to his ears, a sight so common Randy didn’t even notice.
“What are you listening to Jack?” Randy had to know.
“Classical compilation from the London Symphony Orchestra, just got the CD the last time we were in New Brook City,” He identified and pulled out a brand name CD player from his jacket giving yet another shock to Randy’s senses. “You’re probably wondering about the technology, but that’s actually one of the many types of trade goods we take on our convoy, imports from through the world portal at NBC. But if you look so surprised at a mention of the portal, then how did you get here?”
The Halfling girl piped up “Indeed, how did ye get to Curvaturn if not from New Brook?”
“It’s a bit of a long story, lets just say I accidentally discovered that the crackpot old man in my town turned out to be a dark wizard and I ran for my life through what I didn’t realize was a portal at the time,” he explained non-chalantly and a collective gasp went through the nearby riders and walkers.
Chesterbeard looked him up and down “You’re either very fast or very lucky escape a dark wizard powerful enough to have his own portals between the worlds, why didn’t he follow you here?”
“He was throwing fireballs at me when I ran, and when I landed on the ground the portal behind me closed right away, I think he accidentally destroyed it. I really don’t know though, It was a very frightening morning and I was just glad to find somewhere safe. That goblin really helped me out when I bumped into him a few minutes after landing this morning,” Randy answered looking around nervously. A few of the faces showed signs of disbelief, others looked at Randy in admiration.
Jack broke the odd silence that followed and while looking Randy in the eye seemed to pierce his soul “Your words have no dishonesty to them, you have been through quite an ordeal, and I imagine that more has happened to you than just a wizard to leave you without a desire to find the nearest portal back to earth. Don’t worry; we aren’t immune to danger and tragedy in our little group. I like you kid, stick with us and we’ll look after ya.”
Before Randy could respond Chesterbeard cracked up “That goes for me too Randy, I reckon we could use some new blood in the group, besides Charles there is leaving us after this trip, tells us he’s got some business opportunity so we have an opening.”
Randy walked on a minute or so while nobody spoke “Thanks I guess, I think this could be a lot of fun.” He kept his mind on the road ahead and tried to forget the black shadow he felt within him and the grief it seemed to mask. He was for the time being on the road to New Brook City with a new group of friends, and would wait a while before going for vengeance. He was content, and had a purpose now. The Sky above the road cleared of its clouds and was becoming quite crystal clear. The sounds of the forest echoed around them, and a surreal feeling took hold. Time to stir the conversation “So tell me about this New Brook, are there any good restaurants there?”
there isnt enough room
see next entry
Please tell me what you think and point out any errors.
Part 1
Chapter 1
Characters
Ralph Jones: Vet, appliance store owner
Vinnie Tagliony: Mob Captain, cousin to boss Vito Marcozzi
Primo: enforcer
Mickey: enforcer
Mysterious Hero
Atop an anonymous building, with a view for miles sat a figure. From the street you couldn't see him, all that’s visible is a black whisp to the air, some optical illusion. Were you to float from the ground that wisp would start to take shape and suddenly a man, cloaked in darkness would become visible.
Tonight, like so many other nights, he was thoughtful, though you wouldn't know it. He looks as a fierce gargoyle, unmoving and menacing in his flowing dark cloak, surrounded by dark fog. Ears to the wind, this strange demon like figure of a man moves suddenly. He stands gracefully, as if about to take flight, and with a shift of the wind he was gone, only a whisp of black fog remained of his location. The moonlight brightened on the rooftops just then, suddenly the world was brighter.
Across town in an anonymous looking shop in a commercial district, old Mr. Jones hasn't been doing so well with business. Earlier this month his daughter's husband was layed off and good old Ralph, well he thought he would lend them some money till they were back on their feet. This didn’t bother Ralph at the time, business had been good so far this year. As luck would happen that business would run dry within a day or so of lending the cash, due to an economic downturn. Many business owners wouldn't be overly bothered by this, things would catch up next month. Unfortunately, old Jones wouldn't have until next month if he didn't play his cards right. He forgot the small detail of protection money, the unforgivable sin in this neighbourhood. This was Marcozzi Turf. And one late payment brought more than just a second notice.
"I swear you'll have your money soon, I'm just a little short right nooooooowwwww..." Ralph yelped as his wedding band was ripped from his finger by a towering goon holding him up by his shirt collar.
Vinnie, the goon promptly explained "That’s to be expected Mr. Jones, and we in the local protection organization are sensitive to your needs, but you must understand, we can't allow late payments to be made without... fines"
True to his intention Vinnie applied another punitive fine to Ralph as he raised his sweaty beastlike paw and swung open-handed across poor Ralph's face. A terrible moan escaped him along with a little blood. Still holding old Jones up, Vinnie's fist wound around and slammed into the kidneys of the shopkeeper.
Jones thought better of fighting back. In his prime Ralph might have been able to put up a fight against Vinnie, back when Ralph was a soldier. Ralph had done peacekeeping for the UN in the 70s, the blue berets they had been called. That was a long time ago, and near the end of his tour in Syria, tough old Ralph caught a hell of a lot of shrapnel in a flare-up of violence and ended up hospitalized for a few months. After that He wasn't so much of a fighter, not by choice mind you, his body just couldn’t do it anymore. Did he regret it? not for a minute. Ralph was proud to take a hit in the line of duty, and come out alive. After being discharged he returned home to his wife and started a business. The mob had only come in strong in the last decade or so, an expansion of territory in the face of police cutbacks and corruption. The first time they had came Jones told them "fuck off, and shove your protection money up your ass". That was the last time he had been so badly beaten as tonight, a demonstration of force. It worked, and for the last 6 years, once monthly Jones had paid a moderate fee for "protection".
Vinnie dropped him to the floor in a heap. The now fetal Ralph cursed himself for his weakness, and wished this idiot Vinnie and his two buddies behind him could be faced with the fury Ralph could give back in '75.
"Your a good man Ralph, and I'm sure you will be able to make it up next month, after all this is your first missed payment. My associates and I are just here to make sure you don't make a habit of it." Explained the snarling enforcer. one of his friends couldn't contain himself after the few short clever jabs and had to let out a chuckle. "That was a good one Vinnie, we sound like a collection agency". Primo wasn't too bright, and was prone to make these sort of comments. The third member of the party, Mickey was quiet as usual, and kept his hand on his gun. His eyes wandered throughout the shop full of kitchen appliances, he was in the market for a new blender and decided he liked the one to his right. He snatched it up and stated "looks like another late fee boss, you need anything?"
"No, my kitchen is fully stocked, but I think my wife might like some of these pans anyway," Vinnie thought out loud as he swiped a frying pan set from a display and promptly threw it to the ground, with a crash littering the floor with Teflon cookware and denting a nearby oven. "Whoops, hope that isn’t too harsh a mess. I would stay and help you clean up, but we have other business to attend to. You should really get up Mr. Jones, don't want to be lazing about on the job." On the last word Vinnie promptly kicked the still fetal Ralph in the stomach to produce a moan from the still proud shopkeeper. "Well be back in 2 weeks for the remainder of what you owe us and again 2 weeks later for next months payment, and you had better have it." Vinnie and the goons started for the back door of the shop, Vinnie and Mickey carrying their new merchandise, and the money they had collected from the register and Ralph's wallet at the beginning of the "collection".
"Burn in hell.." croaked the shopkeeper blood still leaking from his now bruised face. Ralph had had enough, and though he could hardly move, he was tired of saying nothing in the face of these crooks.
Vinnie turned around just as he was clear from the door to say "What was that old man? You wanna say something to me? Maybe I should come over there and clarify our situation." Vinnie's face was turning to a cruel grin as he brought his new frying pans up and patted them in his hand like a club. What would be harm in going back in and bruising him a bit more, thought Vinnie, rebellion in the smallest form shouldn’t be tolerated.
"Wait out here boys, I think Mr. Jones and I need to have a quick chat before we go, in private." Vinnie looked up the alley at his associates as he explained, and turned back to Ralph heading towards the door. Just as he crossed the threshold with his right foot he noticed a pressure on his left ankle. It barely registered to him that he was being tripped, he was Vinnie Tagliony, cousin to Vito Marcozzi. It was almost as likely for Vito to be slapped in the face as it was for Vinnie to be tripped, especially when dealing with shopkeepers. You just don't say things like that to a made man, a Sgarrista.
Primo and Mickey were stunned, one minute they had been smiling at the thought of the idiot shopkeeper being beaten further after speaking out against them, in an already battered state. When their enemies were being broken, they gained a sense of power after all. The next minute their captain was flat on his face and the source was a foot seemingly appearing out of the wall. It was a foggy night and the figure of a man in a stylish black cloak materialized above the leg as if from the mist itself. He was definitely good at hiding.
Ever the first to react Primo gawked defiantly for only a second before raising his gun alongside Mickey's already cocked pistol and said "Who the hell do you think you are? Your gonna regret doing that." Primo's voice echoed in the cold night air of the alley, which suddenly seemed darker, as though the moon was hiding behind a cloud. His stolen designer jacket ruffled in the sudden burst of wind. The sounds of the city, normally amplified through the narrow alley not 50 metres from the street echoed in a distortion that chilled the normally placid Mickey to the core.
Still leaning prone against the brickwork wall in the back alley our hero casually responds "your going to put down your weapons, and the merchandise you just 'repossessed' from that storekeeper behind on his 'protection money'" along with the cash and leave now, or your going to end up in jail, bloody... its your choice. The old man didn't deserve that beating."
Vinnie, having gotten up, and cocked his pistol walked angrily to the shaded figure "What are you some kind of loony? Do you have any idea who we are?" Vinnie didn't become a made man be becoming quickly stupid and took a moment to note the shaded face hidden by a stylish fedora and the long black cloak-jacket hiding the mans form. He Wore dark black leather boots that were either for fashion or hiking, with their confusing sturdiness but stylish form. In any case Vinnie didn't trust the mans casual demeanour as he leaned against the wall. He was cocky and knew too much, something that could not be tolerated. Though a quick thinker, Vinnie was still too consumed with anger and hurt pride to ignore the fact that he had just been tripped and study this mysterious fellow further.
The shaded figure laughed casually and dryly states "I have every idea, thugs from the Marcozzi crime family, 2 enforcers and a captain, you’ve come to make an example of Mr Jones in there" indicating the shop behind them" and thankfully you chose only to rob him of his merchandise and cash and to rough him up without serious injury, otherwise you wouldn’t have the first option. Am I to assume you’ve chosen option B however?"
The air stilled just then and the stranger tilted his head up just ever so slightly that the mobsters could see the serious look on a hard face. A face weathered by time, but young all the same. And a gleam in the eyes that frightened both of the enforcers, but not the enraged Vinnie. Vinnie had seen similar looks on many mafioso and sometimes on law enforcement officials before, and they had all broken easily enough. Vinnie's pride singed and with contempt he snorted "You wise assed son of a bitch, I’m gonna have fun making an example out of you." Vinnie raised his empty left hand just then to punch the shady man's face. Taking careful aim Vinnie slammed his monstrous paw into the infuriating cocky figures nose.
"Owwww," screamed Vinnie noticing that where once the shaded "wise ass" was had become a brick wall scaring his skin and possibly breaking his knuckles.
"Where the hell did he go?" An enraged Vinnie yelled at his henchmen, waving his gun wildly in the air searching through the fog for the stranger. When did it get so damned foggy anyway? Vinnie could barely see their black hummer 20 feet up the alley. This bastard was quick, but he would learn.
Primo was scared, the alley suddenly seemed much darker, and his friends were breathing way too loud, or was it him breathing loud. He looked around pointing his gun anywhere he thought the bastard might be, and noticed Mickey doing the same thing. He couldn’t help but point out "he disappeared boss."
As Vinnie, at the left of the shop door looked across the alley into the eyes of what he thought had to be his dumbest enforcer in his 4 years as a made man something flashed in his peripheral vision. There 5 feet behind the also dumbfounded Mickey, who stood on the right of the door, was the cloaked figure, seemingly oozing a dark fog.
The man Smiled as they locked eyes and spoke "I've often been told I'm hard to hit, but i'm just as hard to shoot... Please reconsider the first option".
Vinnie, losing his patience walked in between Mickey and Primo to form a diagonal line across the alley, his shiny nine millimetre pistol levelled on the figure reflecting almost as much of the scant moonlight as the wise-guy's gold watch on his other hand. Both enforcers followed suit in levelling their pistols, and Vinnie responded "We'll see about your target record then," followed loudly by "SHOOT THIS MOTHER FUCKER!!!" and they opened fire at will.
Of the three men, Vinnie was most stunned as the figure twisted and turned quickly upon the first volley shots, thinking he had hit his mark, only to be surprised as the mans hands, until now tucked into the pockets of his cloak reached each into this suddenly opening cover as he dodged, and with lightning speed emerged with what Vinnie could only describe in his own stunned mind as "Two big fucking swords" that immediately set themselves ablaze. All the While the shadowy figure twisted and turned avoiding seamlessly every bullet. By the time the swords were out, each of the mafioso were backing away and quickly reaching for their second pistols and began firing again, out of bullets from the clips in their original pistols, and seemingly without the time to reload. Something even odder happened now, the figure stopped dodging, and simply whirled the swords with such speed that it seemed a wall of fire replaced the deadly Asian looking blades. Sounds of deflected bullets showered the alley as the figure approached Mickey, the closest to him. Frightened out of his wits Mickey swore angrily at the swordsman and aimed for his face in dismay as the blades seemingly struck his gun away with the flat of a blade in one quick arc. The blazing heat singed Mickey's eyebrows, noting that his pistol now 10 feet down the alley was partially melted, the fire was real, and he screamed in terror in a way he had not screamed since the age of 5. Before the second was over the man stepped to the side of Mickey as if to pass and slammed his elbow into the enforcers jaw and subtly kneed him in the stomach with such force as he was rendered unconscious and out of breath. As the other two had in turn reloaded their pistols and continued firing on the shadowy swordsman Vinnie felt overwhelmed and ran for the hummer. He was still too full of pride to let his fear swallow him, and instead of driving away like any logical man, he opened up the rear hatch and retrieved his AK-47. As he turned to fire his favourite toy at the figure he watched Primo loose his gun in the same manner as Mickey and receive a quick kick to the head, to lose consciousness.
Roaring with rage Vinnie opened fire on the dark figure now shrouded with fire. The figure still walked slowly toward Vinnie, and lifting his head enough to reveal his face, showed a wise close mouthed smile as he sliced the AK-47s muzzle and kicked Vinnie square in the chest so that the proud Sgarrista landed on his ass in the dirt of the alley, sliding with such a force from the kick that he stopped with a thud against a dumpster across the way from his hummer. Now unarmed and defenceless the snarling mobster looked up at the man and realized he was for the first time in years, terrified. This man was about 6 feet tall even, with a muscle build earlier hidden by the cloak, and now viewable briefly to show he was built like a house as they say. His Caucasian face showed green eyes that glowed with fire as his swords did, a dual set of katana that were engraved with figures unfamiliar to the mafioso, and even to the average swordsman. His black cloak, hat, and boots gave the early sense of nothingness, and his massive hands held the killing blades above the mobster in such a way that he was seconds from wetting himself in a moment of sheer panic.
Vinnie finally stuttered out "wh.. who... who are you?" in a voice filled with terror.
"I was hoping you might ask..." said the hero, "You and your friends are going to spend the night in jail before you manage to get bailed out by expensive lawyers hired by your 'family'" I'm sure there are some outstanding warrants on you that could stick for a few hours. When you do get out though I want you to deliver a message to your cousin. This neighbourhood is no longer your turf, it's under the protection of The Dragon of Mystery."
Vinnie wondered allowed looking into the mans eyes "who?" as the now identified hero kicked him in the jaw to give the mobster a slight nap.
Had one been watching they would have noticed a whisp of fog as the Dragon turned and slipped into the shadows and disappeared. Minutes later an ambulance and 3 police cruisers arrived sirens blazing, tipped off by an anonymous 911 call about an injury and a robbery in Jones's appliance shop. Stunned that all three robbers were in fact notorious mobsters the ranking officer was almost thrown off balance as he turned back towards the building to get another officer with handcuffs and noticed the still flaming letters DM etched into the Brickwork. "Malone, you better call for the lieutenant, he’s gonna wanna see this."
Part 1
Chapter 2
Characters
The Dragon of Mystery aka Randy Gostrym
Young Randy Marsala
Vito Marcozzi: Boss of the Marcozzi Crime Family
Vinnie Tagliony: Mob Captain, cousin to Vito Marcozzi
Primo: enforcer
Mickey: enforcer
Old Man Carlson: Wizard from another realm
“What the hell do you mean sword made of fire? Is that some kind of joke? Did he have a mother-fucking flame-thrower, or are you just losing your fucking brain Vinnie?” Spat the slightly overweight man known to many as Fat Vito. His brow was furled in anger as he sat behind his fine oak desk in a high backed swivel chair.
“ I swear Vito, on Grandma Capine’s grave, it was like something we used to see in those fantasy pictures you took me too when I was in grade school,” Vinnie spoke so fast the words were barely intelligible. “Like we were telling you, all was going according to business and this guy comes out of nowhere and starts tearing our guns to pieces, we didn’t have a chance.” He finished, his greasy face dripping with sweat.
The clock on the wall showed 9am, and Vinnie, Primo, and Mickey hadn’t slept all night between being carted off to jail 12 hours earlier and bailed out only a half an hour later with the help of Jerry Marcozzi, the family lawyer and a partner at the recently renamed firm of Talbot, Johnson and Marcozzi. Jerry had left shortly after the limo ride back to the Marcozzi brothers restaurant, the prestigious downtown Italian restaurant that was the front for the family. There was no worry about a trial, they had every crown prosecutor and judge in the area either blackmailed, on a payroll, or under veiled threats enough that the chance of a guilty verdict was slim to nil, and even if the road did get rocky, the connections with city hall and provincial politicians would cover it.
Between the limo and the boss’s office the entire story had been told twice, and Vito was still unsure weather to believe Vinnie and his henchmen. “And you two are also sure of all this, this bastard wasn’t quite human and he challenged our authority over the territory”
Before Primo and Mickey spoke they both nodded vigorously and started to mumble incoherently interrupting each other. Vito held up his hand and nodded, his prematurely grey hair revealing a pained expression on his scarred face.
“Fine, we’re gonna have to hire some outside help to whack this freak.” Vito’s face quickly became solid and angry as he looked out the window at the rainy street below. “This son of a whore will have to learn not to challenge the Marcozzi family. But if he’s too quick to shoot and can pop out uv fucking nowhere we’re gonna need someone who’s dealt with this kind of freak-uv-nature before. I think it was our associate little jimmy in Chicago who told me he had to hire some supa-powered weirdo to make a hit a couple uv years ago,” his accent thickening as he spoke each sentence, anger building. “I’m gonna make some phone calls and see if I can get us some talent to face this fucker.” He turned to look at his cousin and two loyal soldiers “If all goes well you will have someone to accompany you when you make the Thursday collections next week as though nothing has happened, and when this bastard comes out of the fuckin wall he will have someone to keep him busy enough for you to shoot his ass.”
Vinnie looked at his cousin as if to thank him “and I will make that fucker sorry he ever crossed us.”
“Just go get some sleep and try not to get your legs cut off by any other freaks.” Vito chuckled at his cousin. As he pulled a rolodex out of his desk.
Not more than 2 miles away on a dirty side street there was a beaten up residential motel with a man was laying on a bed in a cramped little room. He looked forward out his 3rd floor window above the kitchenette holding a sink and a hotplate. It was raining, almost always raining in this city. The man, Randy, liked that. It reminded him of the forest for some reason. Part of Randy loved the city, especially at night, but another part of him longed for the woods where he had had so many good times. On the coat rack was a long cloak so black it seemed to the eye that it made that it drove the light out of that part of the room, topped by a fine black fedora.
“Why did you have to stir the fucking nest Randy?” he asked only himself angrily slamming his hand against his bare chest. His shirt, actually magical armour, was draped over the chair at the desk on the other side of the room 5 feet away along with similar looking pants. Below the chair sat a set of thick black boots, arm bracers, and two sheathed black katanas piled in a heap. As for the rest of the tiny room, the only other items were what you would expect from someone in such a hotel. What looked like a small backpack hung on the end of the bed, a pan and cooking tools sat in the sink, a few grocery bags hung from the coat rack filled with snacks, and in the closet sized bathroom was a shaving kit. No pictures were hung and nothing outside the armoured clothing and swords set this room apart from any other housing the numerous drifters in the hotel.
The man sat up and looked more intently into the rainy city; over the smaller buildings in his view he could see the ocean drifting around the peninsula that was this part of the city. Across the little inlet he saw more sprawling city, and then mountains. Nature set his mind at ease. Still he was troubled as he talked to himself. “I suppose I couldn’t just let them beat up that poor old bastard… still it would have been easier if I had just killed the rats” he had stirring like this since arriving at the room at sunrise. He had planned to wait and see the extent of the mobs activity in this city since he arrived last week, after hearing rumours of the corruption that had slowly chocked the port town. “Nobody should have to suffer the abuse from the mob…” he thought out loud and a tear rolled down his face as he reminded himself why he had to do this. After a few years of drifting from city to city, trying to find a niche and cleaning up the streets he had only run into a few demons and some petty street gangs. He struggled, despite the fact that he knew these ordinary men with fancy suits and expensive guns were a plague on the town, and by far an easy enemy to crush for a warrior of his prowess. “They aren’t even the same people… and still you let these fuckers bother you… why Randy.”
He lay back down, not sleeping really, he hadn’t slept in a few years, but he still benefited from a few hours of restful meditation each day. It was much harder to rest his mind today than usual, but he slipped into a state of peace after a few minutes of heavy breathing.
Sometimes Randy wished he could sleep like he had as a kid, peaceful in his bed, dreaming about simple things like girls, sports, and fast cars. But those days were long gone. They died the night he saw his dead family in the living room of his suburban house. It had only been 8 years, but for him it was a lifetime ago.
They had recently moved to a new town, a small city on the other side of the country. He and his sister had come home from school one day at 15 and their father and mother had all their things packed as if they were going on vacation. Within hours they were on a plane bound for some city he had never heard of in the middle of nowhere. His parents had some crap story about how they had to leave town and move because of a new job opportunity, and there just wasn’t time to pack all the furniture and hire a moving van, besides it would be cheaper just to buy all new things for the new house. His sister bought it, but he didn’t. After seeing some of his father’s friends in the newspaper and on TV a few times, it became clear they were involved with the mob, and now something was wrong. “Serves the bastard right,” Randy thought. Bob Marsala had been a great provider, as there was always money for food and creature comforts, but his communication with his son and daughter was limited to interrogating questions, criticism of their appearance and choices, and drunken yelling. Randy’s mother had turned a blind eye to her husbands sins, still remembering the lovable boy she once dated even when he began to hit her when drunk, only a few years after their son and daughter had been out of diapers. Randy had known she was afraid of Bob, but at the time so was Randy.
More than sleep, Randy wished he could turn back the clock and save his mother and kid sister. Unfortunately that was one magic Randy could not find a master of, and the night had come a few months after moving that Randy came home after sneaking out to a movie with some new friends only to find a familiar looking anonymous black sedan in the driveway. Cautiously he snuck up to the living room window and peeked through the gap in the curtains to see two men he was sure he had once met, Charlie and Al, each holding a pistol and looking over three bound forms on the ground. Randy stared at the pool of blood being fed by the holes in the bodies as he realized who they were. He gagged and threw up in the bushes under the houses front window. He pulled out his cell phone and quietly called 911. When the operator picked up he couldn’t remember what to say, just gave his address and whispered “come quickly.” When he hung up he realized that Al was on a cell phone also, and pacing back and forth getting increasingly agitated.
Through the thin window Randy could hear Al shout as he hung up the phone “I told you the rat-fink had another kid, now we gotta find him before someone figures out these fuckers are dead and the cops get involved.” Randy knew then that he should run, but he stood stock still, in shock as he could have sworn Charlie looked in his direction quickly before looking at Al and saying something and pointing to the door.
That did it, and Randy jumped and started running across the front yard and jumped the fence into the neighbour’s back yard as he heard the front door open and Al yell as he spotted him. Randy ran like he had never ran before, hopping fence after fence, and darting through alleys and across streets. For the first 6 minutes or so he could hear the mob footmen behind him and silenced gunshots squeeling through the night air. At that point he heard one say to the other “go back for the car, we’ll cut him off.” A few more minutes passed by and he was beginning to lose the remaining enforcer. Shouts of muffled swears could be heard from a few yards in the wrong direction and Randy found his way into the yard of a large abandoned looking Victorian mansion. In the recent months he had been in the town he learned that the place belonged to an old crackpot that didn’t get on well with others. He had been there for decades but was barely seen by anyone. Desperate for a hiding place and hearing the roar of a car motor from nearby, Randy dived through an open basement window, and made a rough landing on an old man, tumbling together onto the floor of a cavernous chamber that looked like what once was a ballroom.
Randy felt as though he had entered some odd dream. As he dove through he heard a man yelling only a moment too late, chanting some foreign language and reaching a final climax just as Randy landed on him. In the portions of seconds of landing Randy somehow absorbed the surroundings. Underneath him was a crumpled man wearing an odd purple robe and a big stick with an orb on the end of it. Ten feet in front of him was what appeared to be a giant black dragon like what he had only seen in movie effects, wrapped in what looked like glowing blue lines of air. As the man under him was crumpled he managed to finish his words as though nothing had happened.
Still unsure of what he was seeing Randy was struck square in the chest by black lines of electricity originating from the Dragon and he was thrown from atop of the crumpled man at the spoiled completion of what turned out to be a very evil mage’s spell. The Dragon groaned and shuddered dieing and black smoke escaped from its nostrils, and what looked like a grin crept over its long scaly face. “Your efforts fail you wizar…” the Dragon croaked and stopped suddenly, its eyes going blank.
Randy felt funny all over. Where seconds before he felt fatigued from fleeing and bruised from the fall, he his limbs were energized enough to run a marathon and his recent scratches and scrapes were rapidly regenerating.
“DOOO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU LITTLE IMBECILE!!!” an enraged voice blared from beneath the still stunned Randy, as he felt himself being thrown off of the crumpled man. The evening had just gone from tragic to weird in Randy’s mind, and things were just too much to comprehend. As he looked at the crazed figure the locals refered to old Mr. Carlson he became petrified. The seemingly withered old mans aged skin showed years of wear and poorly hid the tense pulsing muscles of a furious madman. “Five years I have toiled in this realm, procuring rare reagents for that spell, 2 more years finding an adequate shadow dragon to lure into a trap and transport to my laboratory only for you to foil all of my labour.” A malicious glare froze into the man’s decrepit face. His brow was pushed into a mountain of ripples that seemed to extend to the middle of his balding spotted head, framed by a remaining ridge of hair above each ear and made more ferocious by a pointed hawk like nose that seemed to be finding someone to peck. “Who sent you boy? To spy on me or to steal my spell?” He spat, his tense snarl fizzling with frustration. “Was it the archduke of necropoly, or was it that bitch sorceress queen of Atlantica?” he menaced over Randy now, confusing the teen.
The candlelight in the room darkened near Randy quite suddenly as he stood up defiantly looking at the snarling old man. He started to feel aggressive, and resent the crackpot. What was this man talking about? ‘archduke? Sorceress? And was that a real dragon, it just couldn’t be? And what was happening to him, he felt lighter than air? “What are you talking about? I don’t know who your talking about or who you are.” Randy looked up at the surprisingly tall old man, who now held a very youthful posture.
“Don’t play dumb with me, boy!” he paused calming himself “Perhaps it does not matter who sent you. Despite the fact that my spell was ruined, I will not be completely without joy tonight, as I can take pleasure in pealing off your skin, inch by inch with a favourite spell of mine. Then I will summon a hell hound to devour the flesh as it still hangs from your bones.” The old villains face twisted into a smile as he held up his staff and menaced over Randy. “Yes I think that my evening’s entertainment may at least by salvage…What are you doing?” The wizard quickly interrupted himself staring at Randy’s impressive physique, now being surrounded by a menacing dark cloud to match the determined stair Randy answered the wizard’s intimidation with.
“You don’t scare me Old Man, I don’t know what you did to me, and I don’t care. I just went through hell and you could not make my night any worse than it is. But if you want a fight, you picked the kid, otherwise get out of my way, I’ll be leaving.” Randy stared defiantly at the man, internally frightened by the threat he had just been handed, but determined not to show it.
“Perhaps you would be more valuable to me alive, after-all my young fool,” Carlson menaced again, brandishing his staff as though ready to club Randy. “It seems as though you will be capable of taking that lizard’s place in my experiment, now since time is of the essence I will only ask you once to sit on the floor there,” he indicated to a spot next to the now unmoving dragon surrounded by blue bands of energy.
“So you can do to me what you did to that thing? I don’t think so,” Randy Spat. He might have been a little confused, but he wasn’t born yesterday. Clearly the old man had unkind intentions.
“Arrogant brat… If you will not co-operate, you will wish for the quick death my spell will bring you when it’s through.” The wizard stepped toward Andrew and began to say something while moving his staff and empty hand together in a circular zigg-zag pass through the air.
Instinct welled up inside Randy to pull up his left arm, along with a whisp of the black mist, up in front of him, while he dove to his right. A split second later a bolt of purple lightening came from the wizards grizzly right hand. It was swallowed in the black mist in spot Randy had been a split second before, where it fizzled as though eaten by the darkness.
Now enraged and driven by adrenaline and anger after losing his family Randy moved with inhuman speed punching the old man in the face. Ready for an attack the Old man countered by whipping the ball end of his staff into the back of the boy’s head.
Randy was flung to the floor a few feet away, but now energized and feeling lighter than air he rose to his feet in the manner a ball bounces from the ground when dropped. Instinct was taking over in Randy further, and he sensed he would not win a fight with the enraged magic user. Lighter than air Randy more willed himself than ran towards the door behind the dragon, the only one he could see, and with each step he felt himself become less and less solid, almost as though he were becoming the smoke around him.
The wizard wasted no time in taking chase after Randy, hell-bent on capturing the boy. His hands flew through a series of motions and his mouth wove incantations spewing fireballs and lightening bolts after the boy. Oblivious to this Randy’s now shadowy form floated through the now half obliterated door and through the hallway.
Desperate to find an escape the shadowy Randy peered through his eyes seeing a dark world around him as he ran. The details were skewed and he could see beyond the walls themselves, as though they were no longer solid. Nothing was wholly solid, although he could only see a little ways past a wall or a door. Through one of the doors he saw a glow, and instinctively dove for it. Behind him he felt heat that should have melted him, but for some reason that didn’t seem to matter. Even in his panicked state he had a clarity of motion, and his superhuman speed seemed not to matter, for the world around him was clear. There in the other end of the room was what looked like a standing mirror the size of a doorway where the blue glow was coming from. Randy dove for it.
The wizard lunged over beams of wood fallen from the ceiling and walls, remnants of his fireballs and lightning bolt blasts after the boy who was more and more rapidly taking a form in the shadow realm, one of many powers available to shadow dragons. Frustrated and knowing they would have likely little effect, and in a rare moment of impatient rage he continued to throw different degrees of destructive elemental spells at the boy, hoping the impudent child had not enough understanding of his new abilities in order to be immune to such quick destructive spells. He had much more potent spells at his disposal, but he had too many valuable magical items and reagents in the rooms around him that he couldn’t risk destroying. The whelp dove into one of the mage’s small studies. As Carlson kicked in the door he cast his most powerful fireball at the shadowy child who as luck would have it was diving through one of his portals to Curvaturn. The oversized fireball smashed the portal and cut the wizard off from his prey.
Anger surged through the man the locals knew as “Old Man Carlson”. To many however he was the dreaded Carlandic, a powerful wizard with influence in many kingdoms of Curvaturn. He also had many enemies. Stealing the life force and power of that aged shadow dragon would have given him a tremendous boost in magical power, resistance, physical strength, and a few abilities natural to shadow dragons. He had been mistaken in thinking his experimental spell had failed completely, and only too late did he realize that the effect had hit the boy instead. The boy’s fall had altered the spell in its final chanting to redirect the reception to the position the mage had been in, not to the mage directly. “He will pay for robbing me… dearly,” a shout to no one in particular. The mage pondered the fact that with that portal broken, by the time he built a new one the powers the boy had gained would have become permanent, and due to the nature of the spell, could not be transferred again once permanent in the spell recipient. If Carlandic were to gain the powers available from an old and powerful dragon, he would have to trick another. That was likely impossible, word had spread far and wide once he betrayed his alliance with the now dead Blacktooth the Powerful when he captured him in a powerful trap. No dragon of any substantial power in Curvaturn, or even the few that remained on this predominantly human called earth. Five years of work were foiled, but he would find a new way to grow more powerful, he had been doing so for three centuries and a minor setback like this was minimal in retrospect. At least he would have a new revenge project, perhaps this boy of shadow would be a challenge to find and destroy.
Part 1
Chapter 3
Characters
The Dragon of Mystery
Young Randy Marsala
K’thock: goblin hermit
Gunthar: Elf, commander of the New Brook City South Caravan for the South Woodhills Regional Trading Company
Chesterbeard: half dwarf, second in command for NBC South Caravan
Jack: half elf, worker in caravan
Various other caravan attendants
Rain fell on the forest floor. The clouds were blocked from view by the thick canopy above. Hundreds of animals could be heard going about their lives oblivious of each other. It was late at night, or early in the morning, depending on perspective. To a lone goblin marching through the woods trying to find breakfast, it was morning. K’thock the son of the weakest hunter in the spearhead tribe had been banished a year ago. Since then he had been carving a life within the vicinity of the wooden hut he built in the middle of this quiet forest section. Something soured the air, he sensed magic brewing. K’thock didn’t trust magic, and he had often been on the receiving end of disfavour from the village chief because of the high priest’s dislike of him. The shamen was as manipulative as any other mage in K’thock’s opinion, always casting spells to seem impressive, manipulating the stupid, bah. The magic got stronger and about 100 paces away a portal opened spewing blue energy and a shadowy form fell from it, landing with a thud.
Randy was in pain. Not a lot of pain, but enough pain struck him that he knew one or two of those fireballs or lightening bolts had done at least a little damage to him. He also knew that he was no longer being followed and he was flat on his face on soft wet earth. Instinct told Randy to get up, to let his body become light and shadowy again, but Randy was getting sick of running and hiding. He wanted a minute to breathe. After a second of feeling the soft earth and hearing the sounds around him however, he knew that if he did not get up soon, he would start thinking about his mother, and his sister.
Randy got up, and looked around. Finally having a moment to move around he noticed that he had tendrils of shadow all around him, and that he could feel through it. It was a new awakening, and he could manipulate how much dark mist surrounded him. It felt like a shield of sorts and he knew that it was in part responsible for his lack of injury from fire. What burns did come were healing rapidly.
“Looks like we’re not in Kansas anymore” he said to himself, absorbing the area around him. The woodland looked like it had been untouched by the modern world. He thought to himself ‘How the hell did I get to some rainforest?’ “Look at the size of these trees” he started thinking outloud while rain dripped all over him. “Lucy would love this place, and those bugs…” he stopped short, Lucy, his little sister, was dead and would never be around to lecture him about nature ever again.
“I swear I’ll get them little sis.” Tears streaked down his face as it finally took hold of him. He was far too angry to really be sad. “I’ll avenge you and mom and even our no good father, the rat bastard who caused this mess. Damn him!!” his now tear stained face masked itself in shadow creating a frightening illusion. “Didn’t he stop to think he would get everyone killed, playing games with those people. The idiot wanted to play mafia, well he got what he wanted.” He was getting really angry now, finally able to let loose his tension “I swear I’ll get the bastards who did this to you, as soon as I find out how to get out of this fucking forest. Where the hell am I!” he stammered and yelled his question to the trees.
“Your be in forest, magic human! Now be quiet, you’ve scared my rabbit away with your yelling, and K’thock needs food!” the forest yelled back, startling Randy. He looked around and saw a little greenish man with a gnarled face walking towards him.
“Well I’m sorry K’thock, but I’m a little upset right now, after seeing my family dead, being attacked by some crazy old man who cast an accidental spell on me, and landing in some bizzaro-world forest. To top that all off I’m talking to a…what are you?” Randy ranted at the goblin unsure of what to make of all this. Was it all some horrible dream?
K’thock looked him down, seeing no obvious threat. The human was upset and had suffered loss. He and K’thock had something in common, they were both now alone in the world. “You very strange human, but very funny. K’thock like you, maybe I not stab you for scaring away my breakfast” The Goblin stood waist high to the teen and continued “K’thock too lose family, tribe Shaman kill father and mother, blame K’thock. Mage kill human’s family too? Bahhh mages”
“Mage… That’s what the dragon called old man Carlson, and he used magic,” Randy reasoned to himself. “No, they weren’t ‘mages’ they were mobsters,” Randy looked at K’thocks confused stare as he explained; at least he thought it was confused. “Thugs, criminals, you know? They were the enforcers for a larger family of criminals, and my father was a part of the family, but he crossed them and they came to kill us,” He explained it rather matter-of-factly, and it almost felt good. The sadness was gone, and he was motivated by anger.
The goblin weighed the information and spoke “Sounds like thieves guild… K’thock hear about thieves guild in human and elf cities from storyteller when young, very bad. What about dragons? If one is nearby we should leave, very dangerous.”
“No, the Dragon is dead, the wizards spell killed him and did something to me the wizard didn’t like. It’s very strange” He looked at K’thock who motioned they should move the way he had come from.
“Come, we will eat and then K’thock tell you how to get to nearest city.” The Goblin explained as they walked. “It nice to talk to someone, been long time since K’thock leave tribe,” he was almost growing fond of the boy.
“You know, you still haven’t told me what you are anyway K’thock” Randy asked the surprisingly helpful little man, who motioned him to stop and pointed at a large hare sniffing a tree nervously.
K’thock pulled a rounded dagger from his belt and held it above his right shoulder, his arm tense, and with the speed of a cat he flung the dagger spinning through the air, its curvature forming a spinning ring of razor sharp death that struck the hare directly in the abdomen behind its left shoulder. “K’thock is proud goblin, exile from the spearhead tribe, and son of Zark,” the hunter explained as he picked up his prey, cleaned it on a nearby rock and cleaned his dagger within a minute, and continued conversing “Who be you human, and where do you hail from?”
“I’m Randy Marsala, or at least I was before my family was killed, and the son of a rotten scumbag. I lived in a middle of nowhere town called Fieldbrook since a few months ago, but I’ve lived in a different place every few years my whole life, Dad couldn’t seem to get along with the associates he made and then robbed.” He didn’t know why he was telling this strange little goblin all these things. He wondered how the hell he was talking to a goblin, and if he was actually just losing his mind.
They walked, talking as though friends in that way for a while, and reached a small wooden shelter that looked like a poorly made log cabin made of thick sticks stacked vertically and bound together so that each stick was connected to the one beside it at the top and the bottom, to make the walls, and a roof that looked to be made of bark, boughs, and sticks to support it. It looked like a very comfortable residence, for anyone less than three feet in height. There were five thick trees very close together behind the house that seemed to act as a rear wall in part, and the lower branches seemed to support the roof at a closer inspection. K’thock sat down on a carved wooden bench a few feet from the hut in front of a rock that reminded Randy of a coffee table. Beyond the rock coffee table was a fire pit that had been frequently used. The rain had cleared by now and with more expert speed K’thock skinned the Hare and placed it on a large stick for a makeshift rotisserie. Randy was waiting to see what happened next and sat down on the bench, with his feet up on the table when K’thock ran into the hut for some reason. It seemed odd, when considering there was no fire under the breakfast.
“What are you doing in there K’thock? Don’t we need to start a fire?” he had to ask, it was just too odd.
“The wood is wet, so we use fire magic,” K’thock explained as he came out of the hut with a katana so big it looked like it would slide from his grisly little hands any second. He walked up to the fire pit, threw on a chunk of wood from the pile and loosed the sword from its sheath and pulled it free to show a shimmering metal blade that with a second of being loosed from its sheath erupted into a hot red flame. The little man seemed to use very little effort to whack the log with the blade, which also erupted into flame. He then rested the blade on the hair for a moment before sliding the weapon back into its holster where it was extinguished on contact. Randy stared in amazement. He was surprised this shocked him; it was fitting for all he had seen in the last few hours. K’thok looked at him “mages may be very bad most of time, but they make very good tools and weapons.” There was a bold smile on the goblins face, he seemed to be quite happy for the mornings conversation, and had obviously been without company for some time. “The swords too big for K’thock, so you take them when you leave. I find on body after bandits fight caravan weeks ago. Many things left on road when caravans attacked. Sometimes bandits die and left for dead by traders, traders too careless to grab loot. They make good firestarters, but better swords for big arms eh?”
“K’thock, I couldn’t take the sword, that must be worth a fortune, and I have nothing to give you for it, not to mention for the meal. Why are you being so nice to me anyway, I thought goblins were supposed to be mean,” Randy was stunned at the offer.
“Silly human, Goblins only mean when threatened. Some tribes warlike, other tribes not. K’thok have other fire starters, swords just more fun. You have no weapons, and seem very lost. These woods very dangerous, and the cities more dangerous. K’thock think you come from other world though that portal. Human must find his way, and K’thock happy to help,” the surprisingly kind goblin smiled up at him, before running back to the hut and returning with another katana to match the first. The sheaths had little leather loops on each of them that Randy was quickly able to fit into his belt. As he did this the goblin pulled the now steaming hare from the fire, cut it up with his dagger and pulled out some seasonings in little satchels he had brought from the hut to dust the meat with spice. He slid half the meat to Randy’s side of the table
“I don’t know how to thank you K’thock, I’ve lost everything, and then you feed me and give me these amazing swords, these sorts of things can’t be common even here in … what is this place anyway? You said something about other worlds didn’t you?” Randy was starting to ramble again, getting a little overwhelmed by the goblin’s generosity. The pair started eating the meat, and K’thock said nothing. “This is amazing, what did you put into the meat?” Randy finally asked him.
“Mushrooms, dried spice leaf, and on your meat poison,” K’thock kept eating his breakfast and looked into the fire, his smile getting wider.
“POISON!” Randy leapt up and jumped back staring at the goblin who continued looking into the fire pit for a few seconds while silence levelled in the forest. If K’thock hadn’t of been laughing so hard he would have seen a dark shadow fall on that section of the forest and whisps of darkness seemed to swirl around him.
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahhaha,” K’thock fell to the ground laughing and rolled around for a second before he started saying “No poison, was joke silly human. K’thock got you. He he he he” He went on laughing for a while longer before he finally could come to say “Your face go purple when K’thock say poison.”
Randy started chuckling to himself as soon as he regained his breath, and a broad smile graced is face. The darkness had vanished in a flash, and Randy wished he hadn’t of noticed how easily he brought forth all the shadow when he felt he was in danger. The scope of his having new abilities was starting to dawn on him.
When they had finished eating, K’thock explained to Randy that a caravan of dwarf merchants went by on the nearby road every 20 days, transporting supplies and consumer goods from a few cities on one side of the forest to a very large city on the opposite side of the forest, and was certain to be coming through today. The forest was very large and flanked on the west side by a steep mountain range and met the ocean to the east and to the south where two cities sat within a day’s journey from each other. Fifteen days of walking through the forest north would bring the caravan to New Brook City at the edge of the forest. New Brook City was supposed to be a major trading port for this continent, as it was on a large river which ran another 20 miles to the ocean. Ships came in with goods and left with goods. Traders came and went from all roads throughout the continent with goods to and from the nearby cities where they either were bought, continued on along the roads or were transported to other convoys. Many villages and small camps also were on or near the main roads and the trade caravans stopped at them also. The description K’thock gave seemed to have many warnings about dangerous bandits and monsters along the road, which made Randy wary but K’thock finished by saying “And now we will go to road and you join up with caravan in exchange for providing them with labour along way. Is pretty standard act.” With that he got up and started walking and Randy was left with no choice but to follow.
They followed a barely visible trail on the forest floor for a few miles until it intersected a large dirt road, above which the canopy broke enough to see bits of blue sky and birds chirping. Randy Liked a clean blue sky, but for some reason he felt instinctively troubled by the open air and light, like he was vulnerable and too visible. Come to think of it, he had been having that feeling ever since the rainy darkness turned to rainy light shortly after he first met K’thock. “Listen K’thock, thanks again. I’ll come back and repay you some day if I can,” he hoped that was a worthwhile thanks, he couldn’t make guarantees.
“Maybe you bring K’thock breakfast and swords next time,” the goblin playfully jabbed Randy in the side and continued “K’thock be happy for the company, Randy a welcome friend for lonely goblin. Now watch out for bandits and monsters, sometimes the caravans don’t always win.”
There was an awkward silence for about 5 minutes before the caravan started to arrive with impeccable timing. About 8 horse drawn wagons filled with supplies and bundles and goods piled high escorted in front by 4 mounted riders and 6 walkers, and the same arrangement in the back. The riders were almost all human, except for one in the front who was much more slender but with a masculine face and long pointed ears, Randy wasn’t entirely surprised to discover an elf. Of the 12 walkers, there were 4 humans, three more elves, 4 heavily armed broad, squat, short men with beards Randy could only assume to be dwarves, and one tiny little woman scarcely bigger than K’thock and armed on either side by two broad and curved short swords hanging in decorated sheaths on either side of him. Each cart had one driver holding reigns and one man or woman of some race or another playing the shotgun roll. Most shotgun riders were armed with either a longbow, or a compact crossbow in their hands and a quiver filled with arrows on their backs, but two of the 8 riders, a burly looking dwarf on the first wagon and a small human woman on the second from the last cart carried what looked like old hunting rifles, only decorated ornately the way the swords, daggers, bows, and numerous other weapons carried by the members of the group were. This was truly shocking to Randy, he was starting to believe this was a land back in time with the mythology, but there was obviously some influence of technology from what Randy knew as his world.
As the Caravan approached K’thock held out his hands and waved in the air the international symbol for ‘look at me’ and said “Halt, we have business.”
The lead elf rider looked down at K’thock and said “What business have you with us little goblin?”
K’thock stared at him as though completely unimpressed by the man. He had long red hair nearly hiding his six inch tall ears, striding down his onto the sheath of a massive sword strapped to the riders back. He wore a brown worn leather long sleeved shirt and pants that appeared seamless. They were adorned with stylized design that seemed to be carved into the leather. In this new world it was obvious there was more to the leather than a simple Davy Crocket fashion resurgence. “The boy needs passage to the city, from there who knows. He will work to join you, and may be valuable to you. He is a mystery to the forest. Good day,” was the simple message from the simple goblin who then turned to Randy “Good luck mystery man, and be careful with those dark shadows, could be trouble,” he turned and walked away stunning Randy, who thought the dark shadows and smoky substance was invisible to the Goblin who hadn’t made any comments. Odd.
“Well I suppose we are obliged to let you on with us, we ride to New Brook City 7 days distance. If you work well you will be paid 20 gold coins and will be asked to rejoin us for the next trip, but I warn it is not easy labour. You will unload and reload stock at each stop along the way, transport it to the costumer’s wagons, and help set up and pack up camp every night and morning. If you have skill at hunting, you may also help us to take down game. Prove yourself of worth at these tasks and you will be well paid, fail to be useful and you will be unpaid. I am Gunthar, the commander of the New Brook City South Caravan for the South Woodhills Regional Trading Company, and you will report directly to me, and follow orders from my second in command Chesterbeard,” he pointed to the brown haired dwarf with an incredibly large axe on his back walking near the rear of the convoy. “Take a place at the back of the convoy, and listen to Chesterbeard,” he started his horse up again and the caravan started moving once again.
Randy stepped in after all 8 wagons laden with supplies passed the spot on the side of the road where Randy stared in awe at the different caravan riders and protectors and their arms and armour; he fell into step beside the one who was indicated to be Chesterbeard. “H… Hello, I’m Randy,” he introduced himself to the group as they walked.
Chesterbeard reached a hairy sleeveless right arm across his body, motioned for a handshake to Randy on his left and nearly tore his arm off with a smile as he shook the all too traumatized teen and greeted him “Chesterbeard’s the name, damned pleased to meet you. Don’t yall mind Gunthar, he’s in a bad mood because a trade we were s’posed to make last night turned sour on us. Always glad to have a new man on the team, tell me are yall gonna consider as to stayin with us? By the way yer dressed something tells me you’re new to Curvaturn, and I don’t have many friends from back earth.”
“Wow… uh I didn’t expect that Mr. Chesterbeard… could you let go of my hand please, its hard to walk while turned like this, great shake you’ve got though. Did I hear a ‘yall’ in that sentence? Well I haven’t really thought about It, If everyone is as friendly as you I might consider sticking around, I really don’t have anywhere to go… What do you mean by Curvaturn?
Chesterbeard looked him over with a sombre face and smiled “So you really ain’t from around here. How did you find your way to Curvaturn? That’s the name of this world, it used to be a longer elfish word but we use English and a few of the other earth languages now for ease of commerce and it was shortened. There was definitely a yall in there and you’ll notice bits of drawl in my voice some times because I was born in Texas, and my mamma was human. A lot of us traders are mixed race. If yer not going anywhere in particular then, why don’t you tell us how you got here? And I’m sorry about the handshake, I get a little excited,” The dwarf gave him a very friendly smile.
One of the human’s on horseback piped up with a very flat west coast accent “A little excited is right, when you found out I was from LA you nearly ripped my arm clean out of its socket with the shake.” He started laughing “If you’re arm wasn’t wrenched by Chester’s monster grip then you have a hell of a strong arm on you Randy. I’m Jack, nice to meet you” he rode easy with his head turned back to smile at Randy, and his shoulder length blond hair shifted enough that Randy could see a point to each of his ears enough to realize that Jack wasn’t quite entirely human. Upon further examination he looked to be wearing faded blue jeans in his saddle that contrasted largely with what looked like a jacket made of some kind of scales, almost snakeskin but much thicker looking, obviously armoured. Thick black boots were also noticeable, reminiscent of the models found easily in military surplus stores. He wore a dagger from his belt and Randy suspected… no he knew there were more weapons inside Jack’s coat. Wait something else wasn’t right, there were wires running to his ears, a sight so common Randy didn’t even notice.
“What are you listening to Jack?” Randy had to know.
“Classical compilation from the London Symphony Orchestra, just got the CD the last time we were in New Brook City,” He identified and pulled out a brand name CD player from his jacket giving yet another shock to Randy’s senses. “You’re probably wondering about the technology, but that’s actually one of the many types of trade goods we take on our convoy, imports from through the world portal at NBC. But if you look so surprised at a mention of the portal, then how did you get here?”
The Halfling girl piped up “Indeed, how did ye get to Curvaturn if not from New Brook?”
“It’s a bit of a long story, lets just say I accidentally discovered that the crackpot old man in my town turned out to be a dark wizard and I ran for my life through what I didn’t realize was a portal at the time,” he explained non-chalantly and a collective gasp went through the nearby riders and walkers.
Chesterbeard looked him up and down “You’re either very fast or very lucky escape a dark wizard powerful enough to have his own portals between the worlds, why didn’t he follow you here?”
“He was throwing fireballs at me when I ran, and when I landed on the ground the portal behind me closed right away, I think he accidentally destroyed it. I really don’t know though, It was a very frightening morning and I was just glad to find somewhere safe. That goblin really helped me out when I bumped into him a few minutes after landing this morning,” Randy answered looking around nervously. A few of the faces showed signs of disbelief, others looked at Randy in admiration.
Jack broke the odd silence that followed and while looking Randy in the eye seemed to pierce his soul “Your words have no dishonesty to them, you have been through quite an ordeal, and I imagine that more has happened to you than just a wizard to leave you without a desire to find the nearest portal back to earth. Don’t worry; we aren’t immune to danger and tragedy in our little group. I like you kid, stick with us and we’ll look after ya.”
Before Randy could respond Chesterbeard cracked up “That goes for me too Randy, I reckon we could use some new blood in the group, besides Charles there is leaving us after this trip, tells us he’s got some business opportunity so we have an opening.”
Randy walked on a minute or so while nobody spoke “Thanks I guess, I think this could be a lot of fun.” He kept his mind on the road ahead and tried to forget the black shadow he felt within him and the grief it seemed to mask. He was for the time being on the road to New Brook City with a new group of friends, and would wait a while before going for vengeance. He was content, and had a purpose now. The Sky above the road cleared of its clouds and was becoming quite crystal clear. The sounds of the forest echoed around them, and a surreal feeling took hold. Time to stir the conversation “So tell me about this New Brook, are there any good restaurants there?”
there isnt enough room
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