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The gnome Zalmo Tannick sat under an ancient oak tree in the Greater Faydark.
A glowing symbol etched into a small stone hovered with a vibrating hum. "Yes..." he whispered. His eyes glittered with excitement behind the black lenses of his field spectacles.
The gnome's study of magic had been an arduous one. Proper schooling or an apprenticeship had never been available. The Combine had fled to Kunark long ago, and Zalmo was one of the last survivors of a small pocket that had been left to fend for themselves on Faydwer. Alas, he had accumulated what tomes and artifacts he and the small resistance had come across in their scrape for survival. Mages were arrogant and cowardly for the most part. The Ring of Scale had a talent for sniffing them out.
As a gnome, he had been largely ignored by the human and dal mages. Comets of ice and searing fireballs were not within his ability. Imbued stones and strange gems, on the other hand, he had developed a knack for. He tinkered with the old rocks endlessly, and had only just begun to use them to create arcane components.
"Zalmo--" An elfin voice whispered.
The gnome's concentration was broken and he winced as the rune dropped to forest's bed. The little mage collected himself and identified Baelerwyn Nodyra crouched amongst the trees a few paces ahead.
"We move." The Feir'Dal's face never seemed to lose its focus, just as his leather armor had become something of a second skin.
However, Baelerwyn hadn't always maintained such a shrewd presence. He had been known for his infectious high-spirited nature. That was years ago, and one somber day, just like that, the jovial wood elf they had known vanished without a trace. The mortality rate had risen too high, and without warning time and time again. As far as Zalmo could tell, Baelerwyn was the sole surviving member of the Feir'Dal still on Faydwer.
Zalmo pocketed the relic and held the strap of his pack tight against his back. Baelerwyn stretched and ducked through the foliage, a round shield on his back and a polished granite tomahawk on his hip. The wood elf stopped short with an outstretched arm to signal a stop.
The forest was eerily silent when something inaudible to Zalmo caught the dal's ear. Baelerwyn's shield flashed from his back. The lithe warrior contorted himself into an incredibly small shape behind his buckler. Three barbed arrows whistled into the studded wood. Ragged howls tore through the trees. Three goblins poured into view. Two, three, four more followed brandishing grisly weapons and hellish faces.
Baelerwyn's short-axe flickered into his hand as he signaled Zalmo to take cover. The elf's narrowed eyes darted from goblin to goblin to calculate the attack. The surging confidence in their body language registered something in the Feir'Dal's mind. These beasts had been tracking them for some time.
Two stout figures drifted forward on both sides of Zalmo like ghosts of the Faydark. The dwarf on Zalmo's right was Gregabor Razordash carrying a curved short sword sheathed at his side and a barbed whip twined about a tight wrought arm.
The one on the left, and the slightly broader of the two, was Malphus Grimgander toting a war hammer with a golden sun embossed upon the surface. Both dwarves donned hooded cloaks, long beards, and the black field spectacles that Zalmo had fashioned for them.
The goblin onslaught spread to encircle the group. Malphus stepped forward into the center of the throng. The dwarf opened a stubby hand over the sun atop his hammer; a topaz gem was brought down against the hammer. Baelerwyn tucked his face behind his shield just as a popping noise sounded. A flare of blinding light shot in all directions from Malphus. The spectacles were made of worked runic glass to illuminate the dark, and dim that which was bright.
Malphus saw shrieking goblins claw at their pained eyes. Their blue veins stretched throughout white translucent skin. The same skin that had been darkly opaque a second before. The flash rendered everything as negatives.
Gregabor rushed forward, his blade drawn as his whip struck at the thrashing mob. The barbed leather licked the first goblin with fiery pain along its left side as his blade opened its stomach from the right. It screeched and doubled over its drooping intestines.
Another goblin fled to collide with an oak tree. Malphus's hammer caught the fiend square in the spine, squishing it against the trunk.
The dwarves swam through the cacophony, alternating yells and whoops to confuse the goblins in an efficient slaughter.
One goblin ran blindly straight towards Zalmo. The gnome froze, unable to tell if the creature's sight had yet returned.
Gregabor's whip caught the goblin around the neck as it let out a strangled cry. The dwarf's blade stabbed upwards out through the creature's chest, sending flecks of gore to spatter on Zalmo's face.
In a matter of seconds all the goblin's lay lifeless but the very last. It had dropped to the ground during the fray, and was regaining its sight. The eyes in a maddened daze recognized the surroundings. It darted away into the trees.
Malphus spoke, "There can be no survivors here. Go!"
Baelerwyn looked up just after severing a pointy-eared head and raced into the forest after his prey. He gained on it easily, but the goblin dropped low. It spun and swung in a sinister arc to catch the fast approaching elf off guard.
Baelerwyn leapt into the air, evaded the slash with a twist, and cracked the monster's skull. He landed on the balls of his feet. Zalmo exhaled.
The battle ended just as fast as it had begun, but the there was no time for the four travelers to catch their breath. Gregabor clicked his blade into its sheath, looking smug as he always did after a battle.
Malphus rested his hammer on his shoulder. "Let's get to moving. In the Lesser Faydark we'll rest."
Zalmo gazed upon the elongated face of a prostrate corpse. Was it really dead? Each face different and each the same. Some other foe hell-bent on his destruction would be lurking around the next corner. Will it ever end?
He hopped over the body and came into stride behind the others. He could only try to see each day through to the end. Nothing more and, nothing less.
To be continued...
