Sable

Sable

                The forest. Sable had seen wandered through it a hundred times before. So much safer than the forests of her homeland, Merisomet. Dafer’s forest region had been cleared out long ago, the trapped beings within released and destroyed.

                The effort – a collaboration between several powerful mages and other entities – had gone awry partway into Merisomet. A terrible beast had been unleashed, and though it was slain, all but two of those involved had died. The tragedy put a permanent hold on further attempts.

                To Sable, the event was just a legend. It was, however, true that Dafer’s forest was safe. The part that was Merisomet’s territory was also relatively clear, though not completely. The true danger wandered into Merisomet from further east; from the Forest of the Caged. When the portals tore the world apart, one strange reality (a nexus of many) decided to offload its prisoners into the forest. They ranged from ordinary criminals – completely powerless, and trapped forever unless released – through to reality ripping terrors who broke free almost immediately. But luckily, in this world, they could be slain.

                Much time has passed since the portals, but still the prisons break. Every few hundred years a true nightmare wanders out, and the efforts of Merisomet, Dafer, and even Faron or in older times the great Undead Empire are all required to end it. The most recent – sixty years ago – ravaged Merisomet so terribly that it sowed the seeds of a bloody revolution.

                The revolution was why Sable had come to Dafer. As a young knight, she had returned home with honour only to discover that her family had been chosen as an ‘example’ to the lesser nobility. Her timing alone saved her – she arrived just after their execution.

                At first, she sought shelter in Dafer but – as tensions between the two countries grew – she was granted membership in a knightly order. She wanted blood, and vengeance. They promised it to her – eventually. Rebellion boiled away in Merisomet – a counter-revolution, to restore the old order, or something much like it. Before her fortieth year, they would strike.

                Sable was only nineteen when she fled. As she wandered the forest, it was her twenty-ninth birthday. Ten years, and her desire for vengeance burnt as brightly as ever. Everything she heard indicated the two countries were on the path to war… But it was long, slow road. A border skirmish between their navies. A massive riot in south-west Merisomet. Families coming out of hiding, revealing that they lived on. Hiding! Sable had never hid. But she knew she only hadn’t needed to because she was so unimportant. Her family had only been an example.

                Her anger temporarily getting the better of her, she slammed her heavily armoured fist into a tree. Bark cracked pleasantly, and small chips flew haphazardly. Patience was something she struggled with. Had her home not been burnt after the riots – apparently by the same bastard that lorded over her family’s execution – she would have made her way back, joined the rebellion. Without it, she had no idea where to head to hide in waiting, or to join the counter-revolution. Her only choice was the slow path to war that Dafer trod.

                The sudden screech of a bird made her turn from the tree just enough to see a man approaching behind her. Faster than any would expect – given how heavily armoured she was – Sable was facing the man, axe in her hands. Sable’s two-handed axe bore a single fifty centimetre long head, with a metre-thirty long hilt; in total height it was roughly one and a half metres. A heavy axe, it was designed to tear right through most armour (and especially the hides of some of the imprisoned terrors that wandered the forest). Someone unarmoured, such as the man who stood only a few metres distant, would be easily dismembered by it.

                “Whoa now,” said the man, taking a step back. “I come in peace!” The man wore a simple grey robe with a few brown markings, and held a staff slightly taller than he (about a metre sixty) in one hand.

                “I recognise your robe. You’re someone who was imprisoned here in the forest. The markings… Indicate you come from this region, which is unusual because this entire region was cleared millennia ago. They also indicate that you are weak,” said Sable, sizing up the prisoner. The markings he bore indicated that he was weak (and thus probably effectively harmless), so Sable figured she should capture him for interrogation. It was the policy of the Merisomet knights, at least.

                “Huh, I guess I’m lucky that my prison ended up in some cave instead of up here. I’m surprised someone’s opening the prisons – that sort of power shouldn’t really be common in this world. Then again, this area is low security – did you know that? These markings don’t mean weak, they mean low security,” the man said, studying Sable.

                Clad in heavy plate mail, she was an imposing figure despite being only ten or so centimetres taller than the man. It was definitely overkill for what was meant to be a peaceful walk in the forest, but it was the one thing she still had from Merisomet – the axe had replaced the one she lost as she fled. “We don’t kill everyone who awakes in the forest anymore. In Merisomet. This place, Dafer, hasn’t seen any escapees for centuries. Come quietly and I’ll handle the ‘interrogation’ myself,” replied Sable.

                “Oh mighty warrior, let me show you something,” the man said, bowing slightly.

                He held his staff forwards in front of him, gripping it with both hands. Strange symbols – writing in some forgotten script – darkened the surface of the staff as he held it. Moments later he suddenly swung the staff into a tree. Where it was hit, the tree’s trunk immediately snapped. It fell forwards and landed with a cacophonous crash, the man barely leaping back in time to dodge the longest branches.

                The man smiled at Sable. “Do you care to take such a blow?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

                “I fought worse in Merisomet. Drop the stick,” said Sable.

                “You’re certainly a tough one. Alright, how’s this: tell me why you punched that tree and I’ll maybe come quietly,” he replied.

                Sable considered, and decided to tell him. Better to avoid the fight if possible. “Anger. I come from Merisomet, where my family were killed and my hometown burnt. I serve Dafer and wait for war to come, but war comes slowly,” explained Sable.

                “Hmm, perhaps we can make a deal?” asked the man. After Sable didn’t respond, he continued, “I could use a country, you see, so you and me working together we could take Merisomet over and get your revenge!”

                “Just drop the fucking stick,” said Sable, shaking her head. “If you’re willing to give the war effort that kind of power there are plenty of people who’ll give you whatever you want anyway, including a dukedom if you want to lord it over the peasants.”

                The man frowned slightly. He tossed the stick aside, and said, “Alright. Sounds good enough to me. I swear, though, this isn’t the way this is meant to go. Where are your friends? They’re two women knights, like you. Not as scary. One’s blonde, ridiculously power hungry. The other has light brown-red hair maybe? Cute girl, and… Some stuff happens. I don’t remember their names, though.”

                “You can explain whatever you’re talking about when we get to Piefern. It’s a half hour walk that way,” said Sable, indicating which way the man should head with her axe.

As the man started to move in the direction she’d indicated, she added, “So you think you know my name? Ha. Take a guess.”

“It’s Sable,” replied the man.

After a short pause, Sable said, “Move.”