[Story] Through the Temple Primeval

[Grott]

^{*This story takes place fifteen years before the present game setting.}

^{*Liberties have been taken with Gyr Abania and the culture of Ala Mhigan refugees. It is not my intent to lorebreak, so if future information directly contradicts the details of my story, I reserve the right to alter it to fit in with the lore.}

^{*Please do not use this information ICly without discussing it with me first.}

^{*The thread is not closed, and feedback is greatly appreciated, but to cut out some clutter, I'd appreciate feedback in the form of a PM if possible.}

^{*These seven paragraphs are simply the first part of a larger short story. The short story is simply part of a larger collection of stories about Tancred's adventures between the fall of Ala Mhigo and the present. I didn't want to put down too much writing at once, because it tends to discourage casual readers.}

^{*Feedback is encouraged. I've been working hard on this story and I'd like to know that someone actually read it or liked it or saw things that could be improved.}

^{*This story is written to entertain you, the reader, so please enjoy it!}

 

Through the Temple Primeval, Part I

 

            From a distance, the steep cliff seemed to rise out of the highlands of Gyr Abania like a wall at the edge of the world. It had sat silent for hundreds of years, undisturbed and uninviting. The cliff itself seemed to invoke thoughts of a grisly death to all who gazed upon it. At a closer look, one could see six sunburned and tired figures making their way slowly up the glowering wall, like ants up the wall of a great castle. They worked in silence, pulling themselves up with iron muscles at a snail's pace. These stoic men set out from their camp with a dozen more just like them. The six who remained were the smartest and strongest; the most fit to survive.

 

            In the past seven years since the fall of their homeland of Ala Mhigo, they had lost hundreds to the weathering of the wilderness. The frail engineers who had made their city so powerful from inside their walls had faded to illness, injury, or exhaustion and the men and women left were barbarians. Due to their heritage, they had been chiseled into a rare breed of intellectual savage. At the same time both ruthless and calculating, but full of compassion for their fellow refugee. One of these such men was Tancred, a youth who had been nearly thirteen at the time of the invasion and had fled, with many of his people, to safety after his parents fell to the gunfire of the Garlean war machine. And now, Tancred was climbing the greatest stone wall of the countless crags of his foreboding home.

 

            Tancred had answered the call when Berdic Stormhome, the camp's strongest warrior, had asked for fifteen able-bodied men to follow him in a quest to find the legendary Dire Hammer. Tancred was the sixteenth volunteer. Despite being the tallest of the group, he was the youngest, and slightest of muscle. He was brought along as fodder, but had proven himself worthy, and now was one of the six surviving members. Tancred Smithson, Berdic Stormhome, Rold Redhand, Fergus Ironshield, Kyre Stone, and Aldred the Younger comprised the climbers, and they had just found what they were searching for.

 

            "Look! Just above us!" Rold shouted, as he shot his left hand off of the rocks and pointed at a ledge, leading to a cave, in the cliff's wall. "Just as the story says." Berdic sighed in relief. The six men quickened their pace to the lip of the opening. Rold was the first man into the cave, and he immediately assisted Berdic into the hole. Next was Tancred, whose foot slipped clumsily on the way up. Berdic rolled his eyes at the youth, wondering how such a weakling had made it as far as he had. Tancred looked away, embarrassed, and quickly turned back to aid Aldred and Fergus into the mouth of the cave. The last traveler had been Kyre, who was still out of reach for even Tancred's arms to grab hold of. The five warriors had been content to sit and wait for their comrade to reach the top. Kyre was strong and intelligent and none doubted his climbing prowess. He was taking much longer than expected, but was still full of energy and able to scale the wall with cat-like grace.

 

            The tired refugees stretched out their bodies and enjoyed the cool air coming up from the deeper reaches of the cave's tunnel while waiting for their slower friend. Tancred alone felt uneasy about the alien terrain they had entered. He walked cautiously deeper into the cave. The others, by habit at this point, paid Tancred no mind. As he crept further down into the blackness, he began to hear noises. A rustling here and there. "Quiet!" Tancred barked at his companions who had been conversing loudly and congratulating themselves on their climb. "What did you say to me, boy?" Fergus shouted in reply, standing and dusting himself off. Tancred drew his late father's spatha from the scabbard he wore on his great bronzed back. He gripped the handle tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Fergus stared at Tancred, confused and angered. "I asked you a question, weakling!" Fergus shouted. Tancred did not turn around to look at Fergus. His keen eyes were attempting to peer into darkness in hopes of finding his would-be foe.

 

            Faster than any could react, a large black monstrosity rocketed from the cave, flapping terrible leather wings. It screeched and wailed, and its great disgusting eyeball scanned the cave on its flight into the scorching sun. Tancred, with the speed of a cobra, had dropped to the ground, supporting himself on his ten fingers and the balls of his feet just in time to avoid the monster's deathly grip. His four companions gasped in horror from behind him. Tancred turned to see the beast returning to its roost from outside of the cave. Aldred took his bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. He fired upon his assailant, but it dove to avoid the missile. In one swift motion, it snatched Kyre from the cliff wall with its mighty grip. The cyclops's claws dug deep into Kyre's torso, and he screamed in agony. Aldred's hand trembled as he withdrew a second arrow with which to slay his enemy. He struck the right wing of the beast, and in what seemed to be almost gleeful retribution, the beast tore the head off of Kyre with razor teeth. It hurled the body of its victim into the cave. The corpse landed atop Rold, who fell to his back at such a blow. This time, Aldred fired with conviction, and pierced the eye of the monster. It moaned and cried as thick, black blood gushed from its face like oil. As it struggled to stay in the air on its one functioning wing, spinning around in pain, Fergus scrambled to take the axe off of Kyre's back. He hurled the mighty hatchet with all of his strength, and it cleaved into their enemy's skull. Its lifeless body fell into the clouds below and the danger halted as quickly as it had begun.

 

            Rold pushed the corpse of his ally off of his body and sat upright against the wall of the cave. "What in the Hells was that thing, Stormhome?" He demanded. Tancred picked up the sword, which he had dropped in the chaos, and put it into its scabbard. He dusted his hands off and joined the rest of the group. "I am sorry. No mortal foot has entered these caves in hundreds of years. I did not expect trouble of this kind." Berdic answered, staring at the limp body and dripping neck of his fallen follower. Berdic alone knew where he had led his warriors. Over the course of weeks, the group had suffered hardships at the malevolent hands of wind, rain, sun, animals, and bandits. They had lost twelve brave souls along the way, and their danger had just begun.

[Grott]

Through the Temple Primeval, Part II

 

          “Push his body from the cliffs.” Tancred recommended, in reference to the remains of Kyre Stone. Fergus, who had always despised Tancred, was the first to question him. “Why?” he demanded, “I will not dispose of a brother-in-arms like he is garbage, to be cast aside out of inconvenience. He deserves a proper burial.” Tancred said nothing, but stared into Fergus’s eyes with a steel gaze. The tension mounted, and the remaining travelers were caught in awkward silence. Berdic was the first to speak. “He is right. There is evil at work in this accursed place, and it is better to let Kyre rest among the hills and forests of his homeland.” The five Ala Mhigans lifted the corpse of their fallen comrade, and dropped it from the mouth of the cave. They stood, uniformly staring into the ocean of clouds which the falling body had passed through.

 

            The company had set out from their make-shift village with seventeen brave warriors. In the past three weeks, twelve of them had died from a myriad of causes created by the hazards of the wild. Kyre’s death had been different. Berdic promised his followers, should they scale the cliff, no more would die. The Dire Hammer would be his, and he would lead his people home. Now, a plummeting, headless corpse was all that remained of Kyre Stone, who had been mere feet from safety when a beast of the netherworld stole his life. Aldred turned to look at Berdic. “Into what nightmare have you brought us?” He asked calmly, but the fear in his voice was noticed by all. They knew of the mounting panic in Aldred’s heart, as it was in their hearts as well. Each and every warrior in Berdic’s band had the hairs on their necks standing straight. Ice cold chills were running up their spines. They had fought countless beasts and countless Garlean soldiers in the seven years since their departure from Ala Mhigo, but none had encountered such terrible creatures as the one they had just slain. What was it? Were there more? Where did this cave lead?  

 

            Berdic looked around at the group. “This cave leads to the Dire Hammer, as I have said before.” He remarked confidently, finally answering Aldred’s question, “It is a story passed through my family for generations. The temple at the end of this tunnel is abandoned, but I do not know what dangers lurk along the way. Make it through this cave with me, and I promise you, we shall all share in the victories this weapon will bring us.” He said, attempting to rally his disillusioned followers. Aldred and Fergus began to argue that they should turn back. Tancred, Rold, and Berdic argued that they had gone too far to return home empty-handed, and must press on. After nearly eleven minutes of debate, the wayward soldiers decided it would be best to continue their quest. They drew their weapons and made their way further into the darkness.

 

            The cave path narrowed in many places, and only two men could stand abreast at its tightest walkways. Rold and Berdic stood in front, lances at the ready. Behind them walked Tancred, with his father’s spatha in hand. Fergus marched backward, facing the entrance to the tunnel, with his large iron shield protecting the rear. Aldred stood between Fergus and Tancred, darting his readied bow to point at any sound he heard. An ice cold draft chilled their legs as they moved, slowly but surely, through the stygian passage. The dark hole in the earth, through which they traveled blindly, seemed to sigh out gentle moans of freezing fog. The five men were uneasy, and each trembled at the thought of some dark, unknown force of the underworld rending the flesh from their bodies.

 

            Tancred would occasionally put a hand on the cave wall to gauge how narrow the walkway was, and after a while, the group collectively knew they had entered a great opening within the cavern. The air was less stiff, and they each could stretch their arms out fully. They whispered quietly to each other, confused on which way their exit was. At last, Aldred decided to place an arrow from his quiver on the ground where they had entered the dark chamber. This way, they could hug the surrounding wall and look for openings without accidentally going back the way they came. Again, Tancred heard the terrible sound of wings fluttering, as they began to cross the room.

 

            “Weapons up!” Berdic shouted at the Ala Mhigans. Not one, but two, winged monstrosities catapulted toward the company from either side. At the front, Berdic and Rold fended the first beast off with their lances, neither losing their bearing as they prodded defensively at their attacker. Behind them, another great flying eye was attempting to rip Fergus’s shield from his arm. He roared at the fiend and attempted to slash at it with his short sword. Aldred and Tancred were caught in the middle of the action. Aldred could not see to shoot his bow in the blackness of the cave. Thinking quickly, Tancred pushed Aldred aside and leapt in the air. He landed on the head of the demon that had been assailing Fergus. He slashed vigorously at the skull, and the monster shook violently. With a great quake of its massive body, the leathery creature flung Tancred from its head. Tancred’s body struck the rock wall and he fell to the ground with the loud clap of skin against stone.

 

            Dazed, Tancred lifted himself to one knee as he gripped his sword. His enemy was already in pursuit. With sanguine claws, the beast clutched Tancred’s torso, as another had done to Kyre earlier that day. Tancred stabbed with all of his might, his sword pointed at eye-level. He pierced the pupil of the monster and it bellowed in wrath. As its grip tightened, Tancred similarly cried out, but he kept his sword in hand and stabbed again at the wounded cyclops. This time the thing’s grip loosened. Tancred fell a foot or two to the ground below him. Next to him, his mystery predator collapsed in wild death throes, and eventually ceased its shrieking.

 

            Tancred lay still for sometime. The subterranean chamber was so dark that he could not tell if his eyes were opened or closed. He heard his companions whispering loudly for him, after slaying the remaining demon with coordinating lance thrusts. At last, Tancred felt a warm palm on his chest. He lifted his arm to feel for whom the hand belonged to, and sighed in relief when he landed on the bald head of Rold. The group sat him up against the wall at which he had recently been hurled. Although he could barely see their faces, he knew they were inspecting him, wondering if he would slow them down or get them killed. They were all grateful for his act of heroism against their foe, but they could not see his wounds, and could not tell if he was going to need to be carried, or if he was simply going to die in a few paces.

 

            “No.” Tancred said, in answer to no one’s question. He repeated the word again, and he used the wall to stand himself up. “I am not going to die here.” He affirmed, as he lifted his spatha. The warriors resumed their fighting positions and continued to trek through the darkness. Every few minutes, one would ask Tancred how he felt, or if he was okay to carry on. Each time he responded, Tancred sounded stronger. The general disdain for Tancred they each entered the tunnel with had turned into a grudging respect over the hours they spent within the cliff wall.

 

            At last, after an inconceivable amount of time in darkness, the weary travelers found a steep ramp, lit by the sky. They scrambled out of those caverns of nightmare, and into a world illuminated by the late hours of twilight. The sun had gone down, and the sky above them was a dull blue which would soon fade to night. Before them was a smooth path of stone, its pieces locked together so tightly that there were no cracks. The stone walkway was encased by slanted ivory, creating the shape of a large gutter which poured into the caves. Surrounding the pathway was a large, desolate field of dead grass, enclosed on all sides by a large, primitively built stone wall. Straight ahead of them, the walls and path met at a great, moss-covered temple that looked as if it had been abandoned centuries before Ala Mhigo had been built. The field itself was speckled with torches, which seemingly grew brighter as day faded behind the refugees. “The torches,” Fergus said, his voice quivering, “Why are they lit?”