The Sargent ripped the suction-cupped arms wrapped around his neck which such force that the cephalopod recoiled back into the depths of the ocean in an instant. His senses were starting to clear up. He could hear his men screaming from all sides. Some pleaded for help. Some gurgled profanities as their severed bodies began to fail them. Even though his vision was still blurred, he could recognize some familiar shapes. The mast head of his once spectacular ship “Fadence” gently bobbing up and down with each crash of the waves. Each time a wave pressed on the remains of the ship, it sank a little bit deeper. While the sun was blazing in the sky, it seemed that each beam of light focused on each man, gently caressing them before plunging them to their death.

His vision was clearing now and the entire scene was being revealed to him. Spinning like a wonky water rotisserie were a few of his men trying to fight off the the remaining Giant Squid that had attacked the ship. He had heard of such creatures but until today thought they were just folk tales told by bitter sailors too old for the craft. He swiveled to the left just in time to see his best war horse succumb to the struggle of staying afloat for so long. She was a fine beast that had served him well, and didn’t deserve that type of ending…

“Sargent D!” the patch-eyed sailor yelped. “You made it!” Sargent D recognized the booming voice of Jess. Always the scrapper, Jess had somehow survived more situations that he thought possible. He even survived the Dark Night Raids twenty-three years ago. Somehow, Jess was immune to their senses and they never were aware of his presence. Because of that, Sargent D always considered Jess to be a lucky charm.

“Jess. I need a count on how many men are still alive.” The Sargent barked. “Sir!” Jess dived toward the wreckage floating about the ocean. Sargent D’s vision and senses had fully returned. The pain from creature was now setting in. He began to remove the tiny suckers still working fervently to please their appetite for flesh. He was trying to recall how this happened. They were on course to Grayspire and there were no reports of any incidents in nearly three months. They had just sailed passed Slippery Rock when the attacks began. It made no sense that deep water creatures were in soo close to the mainland.

But none of that mattered now. He knew he needed to get to the capital city of Durbin in order to continue his hunt for the Death Monk.

The bard was wowing the crowd with brilliant displays of rainbow colors and noise that made the children laugh. He was singing the tale of Roland’s Run – the most notorious bard in all of Durbin. Known for his generosity as much as his mischief, any story about Roland was always a crowd favorite. Under normal circumstances Sargent D would enjoy listening to such a tall tale, but with only six men surviving from his platoon, he was in no mood for festivities. It was common in Durbin to see traders, soldiers and people of every craft walking through the markets. As the sparkling gem of civilization, Durbin offered many things, but never would she willingly reveal her secrets.

A slim hooded man appeared in front of Sargent D and his men from seemingly nowhere. He quickly bowed and extended his hand “A message for you, my lord.”
Sargent D snatched the note from the man’s fingers. “Thanks, I didn’t think anyone knew…” The hooded man raised his eyes to meet the Sargent. They seemed to be made of crystals as he spoke before he vanished “She will meet you soon.”

He opened the note.

“Welcome to Durbin. Please register your names, weapons and travel plans. We have a code of conduct that will be enforced by the city guard. Should you choose to violate this code, you will be asked to pay a fine or participate in community service. Thank you for your understanding.

This message is good for 2 free drinks per person at My Brother’s Place. Drinks provided by Roland. Ask for him to find your monk.”

Sargent D turned to his men and sighed. “Well, at least we know where to go in this city.”

Even at night his features were well defined. A five day growth of facial hair barely covered his chiseled face. His brown eyes were focused on sharpening the blade of his over-sized cleaver. It’s handle was supposedly from the Grayspire Garden that many claimed to possess powers of healing. The scars on his face told him otherwise. While many preferred the skilled blade of a barber, he used his cleaver to ensure the apex of his mohawk was perfectly unbalanced. The cleaver also doubles as a great razor to keep his head smooth and free of any insects that might decide to take up residence.

He was gazing in the blade’s reflective surface when he spotted a subtle movement behind him. In an instant, he sprung and spun around to face his enemy. “Do not be alarmed.” She spoke in a calming voice. “I have a gift for you.” “What the hell are you?” Sargent D could tell she was beautiful by the way her clothes contoured her her body. While trying to make eye contact, his eyes were averted to her curves instead. Sargent D couldn’t help but wonder why there seemed to be a gentle wind swirling around her body, occasionally flashing skin at opportune times.

“I am here to help you on your mission.” she reached inside her slightly floating cloak and presented the gift to Sargent D. At the base it looked like a horse’s hoof but had the circumference of a common staff. As his eyes gazed upwards to the top of the dark wooded staff, the head took the shape of a war horse with what looked like red rubies for the eyes. She maneuvered the staff to rest in both of her hands as she extended the magnificent staff to him.

“Take this, it will help you reach your destination.” He inched towards her. “Why do you want to help me?” He placed his left hand on the staff between her grip. “I am looking for a defender worthy of protecting me.” Her eyes met his for the first time. “Are you that person?” She released her hands from the staff.

Instantly, Sargent D felt a surge of power from the staff. While he didn’t know what the powers were, he suddenly felt drawn to the Mistress. “Damn. What does this thing do?”

“The power the staff wields depends upon the user. At the very least, you will be able to summon a War Horse that never tires, never needs to rest nor eat. Anything else is yours to discover.” Her black hair now gently rested on her bosom. Sargent D inspected the staff with his hands. “Well, I am short a good horse, I suppose this will do.” He looked to where she was standing. She leaned in towards him then burst into a mist that floated upwards into the night sky.

“‘Till we meet again.” Sargent D stared at the sight before returning his focus on his new weapon. “Time to see what this thing can do.”

– War Wizard