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'A World In Remnants' Side Stories:

Trial By Fire

The mercenary walks into the tavern, clad in a red-trimmed amethyst robe armored with patches of black dragon scales and simple tan trousers. The lively bar goes completely silent as the hooded stranger finds an empty stool at the mahogany bar and takes a seat. "No hoods inside," the lupine bartender advises, polishing an empty glass. The stranger nods and pushes off the hood, revealing white-furred vulpine features and eyes like ancient gold. The mercenary lifts a jet black hand to the bartender. "A VenomSong ale, please," he requests, removing a few shining silver coins from a drawstring pouch at his belt and placing them on the wooden counter. The bartender nods and takes a blood red bottle from a shelf, skillfully pops off the cap, and sets it before the stranger.

The wolf behind the bar pushes the coins back. "Y'know, we have a different way of doing things here at the Drunken Dragon," the bartender begins, "you can drink all you want, for free, as long as you have a tale to tell." The stranger smiles. "Well," he starts, "I've never met any of you before and I'll likely never meet any of you again, so what could be the harm in a tale or two?" He sips from his ale and takes a breath. The entire bar turns their ears to the robed mercenary with the intent to listen. "This is a tale of justice, vengeance, and fire. A tale so surreal that you won't believe it's true. This," he says with a gleam in his golden eyes, turning to face the rest of the bar, which hangs onto his every word, "is my story..."

. . .

I stirred from sleep, yawning and sitting up in my bed. The bare oaken walls of my home greeted me, golden light from the morning sun pouring in through the single window on the other side of the room. I stretched out and then smooth my night black fur. Readying for the day, I dressed in a stone grey tunic and simple black trousers then donned my green, hooded traveler's cloak. I left my room and walked down the set of stairs in the hallway outside of my room.

I entered my simple supplies shop through an oaken door. Walking to the windowed front door, I opened it wide and slid a hefty stone in its way to keep it open. Almost immediately, a tall figure in a dark amber cloak entered my shop, carrying a leather satchel that bulged from the item inside. "Welcome to Tools & Trinkets, the one-stop-shop for all your traveling needs," I greeted from behind the oaken counter. The hooded stranger simply nodded and began to look through the various wares on display in my store.

I watched the figure curiously as they wandered around the shop. I had developed a unique skill from a life spent watching people shop--the ability to tell what a person was looking for before they even asked for it. But this person did not seem to want anything. The stranger grabbed a length of rope ending with a steel cap with three blunt hooks. They placed the grappling hook on the counter. "Double-braided rope for extra support, steel hook for extra durability. Two silver," I offered, doubling the normal price. The stranger chuckled. "The tongue is one of the mortal's greatest weapons," they said in a deep masculine voice. The male reached into his cloak and set two Sylvan coins on the counter, each equivalent to a mortal gold coin.

My maw went slack and my eyes wide. "You do know the equivalent of Sylvan currency, yes?" I asked in shock. The stranger nodded. "Yes," he began, setting the satchel on the counter, "I am aware. If I remember correctly, two gold is enough for the set of silver plate armor and longsword that you have been eyeing for months."

"H-how-"

He chuckled again. "I have had my eye on you for quite some time. And I have now made my decision. Inside this satchel is something very precious, and I would like you to have it."

I was at a loss for words as the stranger set his satchel on the counter and began to walk out of the shop. "I-I can't just..." When I looked up again, he was gone. As another customer walked in, I shook off my confusion and set the heavy satchel on the floor beside me.

. . .

As the final customer left the shop, I closed the door and locked it. I walked back to my room with the satchel and sat on my bed. Curious, I opened the satchel and gently poured its contents onto my bed. Inside were two items. One was an ornate, gold-trimmed, leather-bound book. I almost fell off of my bed when I realized what the second item was. Sitting on my bed was a scaled, night-black egg that stood as tall as the book and as wide as my palm. The stranger had given me a dragon egg. I picked up the book and examined the cover. On the front was a six-pointed star etched in gold. It also had a leather strap keeping it closed with no apparent way to open it.

I set the book aside and gently picked up the dragon egg. Its shell was warm and smooth, and made me long for sleep. Tired, I laid down, holding the egg in my arms. I had always loved dragons. They matured very quickly and developed strong family bonds with their caretakers. The childlike joy of actually holding a dragon egg filled my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

I was pulled from sleep by a loud squeak directly into my sensitive ear. I bolted up, wincing, and looked to see the source of the noise. When I saw it, I backed up so far that I fell off of the bed, crashing to the floor. As I lay on my back, I saw a black blur as something leaped onto me. I got my first good look at the rather heavy creature on top of me. A four-legged reptilian creature the size of a small dog with dull night-black scales and a pointed snout full of shining, razor sharp white fangs looked down at me with crimson eyes and a playful grin. Its long, spined tail swished behind it as it brought its front legs up, then slammed them not-so-gently down on my chest. I grunted as a broad smile crept across my muzzle. I gently caressed its cheek with my thumb. It purred and leaned into my touch.

. . .

Months flew by as I balanced raising a dragon and managing my supplies shop. When Umbra, as I had named him, started shedding his fragile scales to make way for larger, stronger, glossier scales, I sold them for a pretty coin. I had also bought the set of silver armor and the sword that the stranger had graciously paid for. With the coin I made from selling Umbra's scales, I had enough to fulfill my dreams of being an adventurer, a hero. I sold the shop to a rather excited-looking female folf and used the coin to buy enough supplies to last me about a month on the road.

With a wide grin on my face and a full pack on my side, I headed out of the north gate of the city I had lived in for the entirety of my 23 years. Umbra followed me loyally, now roughly the size of a small pony. The city behind us, we walked along the dirt trail into the unknown ahead.

. . .

"Little did I know," the mercenary explains, every person in the packed tavern hanging on to his every last word, "that the hope I had for the journey ahead would not last long at all. In fact, things went downhill the moment I stepped past those walls..."

. . .

As Umbra and I left the city walls, a vast expanse of open plains greeted us. Hearing the call of a raven, I turned. Perched atop a completely barren, rotting tree was a raven. But its eyes were blood red orbs without a pupil or iris. I could've sworn that it was staring me down with pure hatred burning in those crimson orbs. It cawed once, a menacing, blood-curdling noise, then flew off in the direction of the morning sun. A feeling of dread was left hanging in the air, heavy and thick as it pressed down on me. I shook it off and looked to Umbra, who swished his tail idly. We continued on our journey, following the well-traveled path before us.

As the sun moved past its peak and noon began to turn to night, the endless plains were replaced with an endless field of beautiful flowers. I smiled, recognizing the field from a story one of my customers had told me once. I knelt down and placed my ear close to the ground. And I heard it. A song, both sweet and haunting, rose from deep below. We were directly above a labyrinth known as Melody Maze. Though I had no intention of traversing into the depths of the dangerous labyrinth, it was still exciting to have stumbled upon such a magical place. I closed my eyes and listened to the song. As I focused on it, the lyrics began to change. The strange words became clear.

Destiny...beautiful and cruel...

The fates clash in their endless duel

Hope is their poison and fear is their blade

When thee left, thy fate was made

Nothing along thy path is fair

Nothing can thee do to prepare

Thy fate is sealed, thy end revealed

Thy blood shall spill across this field

Hope is their poison, and fear is their blade

But death is the end thee shall evade

Thy destiny is near, thy fate is nigh

Face thy end, for thee shall not die

The voice faded. The words rang true. Dread once more pressed down on me. I turned to Umbra.

Umbra was on the ground, convulsing and growling. He started expanding, growing bigger and bigger. He rose shakily, grown to the size of an adult dragon. He stared into my eyes, his expression a mixture of despair and hatred. His crimson eyes began to spread, overtaking everything else, until all that was left were two pure, blood red orbs, burning with hatred. "U-Umbra?" I spoke, terrified. The dragon that I had raised for months now looked at me as though I were simply his prey. Before I could even move, I was struck in the chest. My mind roared with pain as I crashed to the ground. I looked down in horror. Three long gashes cut straight through my silver chestplate.

All I could see was violet. It seemed to be coming out of me as though it were my blood. A realization hit me like a brick wall--my heart wasn't beating. Black filled my vision, weakness filled my body. But the pain in my mind was replaced with the words from the song...Face thy end, for thee shall not die.

This was not my end. I was not going to die. I felt like a mere witness as my body rose to its feet, violet liquid rushing from my chest. Umbra...or, whatever was in him, turned to me in shock. In a moment, I was on the other side of the dragon, drawn sword stained with a thick black liquid. The dragon attempted to roar, only succeeding in causing its dark blood to gurgle from its slit throat. It collapsed as a shadowy figure rushed out of its body and raced into mine. It hit me like a ram, knocking me back onto the ground.

I could feel my control slipping, the being trying to take over. "NO!" I screamed, my mind laced with pain as I fought back. This thing took over Umbra, causing my dragon to try to kill me. Pain became pure rage. I could feel the being try to retreat as I began to overwhelm it. I didn't let it escape. I could feel my body falling apart as the being tried to burn me alive as it targeted my heart. But the hellish flames failed to harm my spirit. In a massive rush of strength, I pushed my clawed hand into my own bleeding chest. My fingers wrapped around my still heart as I started to pull. After a moment of blinding pain, I saw my own heart in my violet-stained hand. It was black and rotting, dripping a thick black liquid. I roared and crushed it. When I opened my hand again, ashes blew away in the wind.

My blurry vision filled with fire. They roared around me, enveloping my ruined body. But they did not burn. The warmth was pleasant, comforting even. My eyes fell closed and I collapsed into the bed of flames.

. . .

The mercenary sips from his second ale as a third is set in front of him. Though the alcohol he drinks is strong, he seems to not be affected in the slightest. Another cloaked figure walks into the bar, pulling off his hood to reveal sharp lupine features and mischievous emerald eyes. The mercenary nods to the wolf to acknowledge him before continuing his story.

"As the sun rose the next morning, as did I. Flames of all colors still danced along my body, though rain poured from the sky, water mixing with my violet blood. I sat up and stared into a violet-tinted pool of rain, seeing my new body for the first time." The robed mercenary stands and shrugs off his robe, revealing his shirtless, white-furred body. His toned bare chest is covered in scars. The most prominent is a series of three long parallel scares that run from his left shoulder to above his right hip. The middle gash runs directly over where his heart is...or should be, rather. His ice blue-tipped twin vulpine tails twitch as the patrons of the bar look over his body. With a black-furred hand, he grabs the third bottle of ale and downs it. "And with my new body," he says once finished, "I took on a new name. Amathieah, to cleanse with fire; and aeynre, vengeance. Together, Amathaeyn, burning vengeance."

Amathaeyn bows, his story complete. The entire bar cheers heartily as the white and black kitsune grabs his robe and walks out of the tavern. The wolf in the cloak follows him out. "There are better ways to get someone's attention other than following them, Valkhael," Amathaeyn speaks. The cloaked wolf steps out from the shadows of a nearby alley. "Hello Amathaeyn, old friend," the wolf, Valkhael, greets.

"What do you want?"

"Can't I just stop by to say hey?"

Amathaeyn chuckles. "You could've done that at any time in the past three years."

Valkhael sighs, his smirk fading. "You got me. We're going to take down the Dragon Knights."

"About damn time."

"I..."

"Yes?"

"Dammit. I need your help, brother."