The Wolf Warlock: 'Tiamat'
The Wolf Warlock
http://www.weasyl.com/~iscin
THE WOLF WARLOCK
by Iscin
This is a work of graphic fiction. All characters portrayed within are 18 years of age or over. All rights reserved © 2015.
CHAPTER ONE Tiamat
It is not even noon and already Rashawn has his face down in the mud. He grits his teeth and fights back that weak emotion that risks the shedding of tears. Such a mistake will only incur further torment for him. This is not what he joined the Oakshield Keepers for. This life he has chosen was supposed to be one of equals, working in union to stem the tide of darkness and corruption that is ever present in their robust, yet violent world. However as he lies here, wet and filthy on the ground, he can hear the laughs of those far taller and haughtier than him. Rashawn knows that the equality line is bunkum. The only constant in this life is that might makes right and that power in whatever form ultimately corrupts. The past repeats itself and whether he is here or back in the town where he grew up, people remain the same. Monsters pretending to be people.
'Come on now lads, pack it up!' Someone says out of Rashawn's field of view says. The voice has a commanding tone to it and the four or so young crusaders begin moving on. 'Are you alright lad?'
Rashawn tries to look over his shoulder for the altruistic man whilst at the same time pushing himself up with both hands sunk in the mud. He recognises the countenance of Sir Thorndyke, whose seniority among the Keepers is only matched by his wisdom in cultivating the strongest and brightest amongst them. Sir Thorndyke waits for the 'pup', as he called him on first meeting Rashawn, to re-accustom himself to an upright position before asking the young man what he is doing out of the keep's dormitory this early in the day. This line of questioning is transparently judging, seeing as the knight already knows that the young man has been earmarked for service on the south watch tonight. It is an honour that Rashawn has served in once before and not something he is at all looking forward to repeating.
'Umm, actually I was going to the library.' Rashawn explains truthfully whilst picking mud out of his short brown hair.
'Why is that?' Sir Thorndyke inquires. 'You'll need your strength for tonight you know.'
'My master has told me to prepare for anything.' Rashawn says, pinning it on the Sorcerer Marius.
'And you think that means reading grimoires instead of getting proper rest for the work ahead of you?'
'There is an incantation for vigour.' Rashawn replies with the smallest of smiles curling up the side of his mouth. 'But the work of study is important. Just as much as the crusaders and their training Sir Thorndyke.'
The knight sighs with his shoulders slumping forward; Sir Thorndyke's pauldrons make a shockingly loud clattering noise as he does this, emphasising the gesture. There is no one quite so completely pathetic yet all the same stubborn song their ranks as this young man before him now. Of course being a magic user of the Keepers means that Rashawn does not come directly under Sir Thorndyke's oversight. He can go and try talking about the young warlock with Marius. However the veteran knight does not believe doing so will make much difference. The two halves of the Keepers rarely see eye to eye on anything except the importance in curtailing the corruption of darkness.
'Very well. You may continue young warlock.' Sir Thorndyke states, though as Rashawn turns to leave the knight's gauntlet grabs the boy's shoulder. 'But don't take the dangers present inside or outside lightly pup. I'd hate to see something dark befall you.'
'You fret too much Sir Thorndyke. What could possibly happen to a runt like me?'
Naming this building the Keeper's Library is something of a misnomer. For though it does contain a great many books and arcane tomes, it also stores many magical artefacts and more. It is something of a vault then, rather than a mere library, guarded by magic wards and curses that the Sorcerer Marius and his predecessors have maintained through the generations. Some Keepers, especially those of the warrior caste, contend that the place should be scaled back. Collecting this many supernatural objects is an obvious cause for alarm, or at the very least some concern. On a nightly, and sometimes daily, basis the Keepers have to contend with occult forces, bizarre entities and outright monsters which if permitted any sort of access to this 'library' would have cataclysmic results. However the library and its many dangerous artefacts has remained due to its invaluable use for the magic adepts. In fact only the other year, before the young warlock Rashawn joined their ranks, the Keepers used the Library to help them reverse a plague of necrotic flesh that reached one of the port cities from abroad.
Nevertheless in an attempt to dissuade the potential for abuse the elders of the Oakshield Keepers assigned a very special person to act as librarian and custodian of the secrets contained therein. Cailey Boniquet is someone who has served the position of head librarian for many years, far more in fact than anyone here can remember. Yet despite being the oldest serving member of the Keepers, the years have not worn her own and withered her appearance. By all reasonable subjective opinion Cailey does not look much older than the young warlock Rashawn does; albeit a fair sight softer on the eyes in most regards too. However the webbed eras and extra set of eyes, all four of which have a luminescent quality about them, give away her bizarre nature to anyone and everyone. Exactly what she is or where she came from is a mystery to most, if not all of the Oakshield Keepers.
'Hello Cailey.' Rashawn says as he ascends the short steps to the what counts as the library reception area.
'Playing with the boys again?' Cailey comments, barely looking up from something she is busy reading, flanked on either sides by yet more stacked books that she has arranged in her little alcove.
'Yeah, haha,' Rashawn shares a nervous laugh with the unamused woman. 'Something like that.'
'What do you want warlock?' Cailey states, her dour expression indicating that she is not interested in any further small talk.
'Reference material. The works of Master Tiamat?' Rashawn says, his muddy fingers gripping the edge of Cailey's desk.
'The mad one?' Mention of Master Tiamat has caught Cailey's interest, though not in an altogether positive way.
'Yeah, that one.' The warlock is aware of his voice reaching an octave higher than normal, which for his voice is already far too squeaky sounding.
Seconds feel so much longer as Cailey leans forward and starts staring down at the diminutive eighteen year old standing on the other side of her desk. It feels as though she is assessing every fibre, weighting every molecule of his being and soul. The glow behind her eyes is subtle yet more that noticeable and Rashawn swears he can feel the hair on the back of his head standing up, or at least trying to if it not for the mud still caked on back there. Cailey makes a loud snorting sound before leaning back into her chair and makes a chuffing sound. Apparently whatever assessment she was making of Rashawn he has passed as she climbs out of her chair and starts navigating the towers of books to get out from behind her desk. She commands him to follow before disappearing past one of the many bookcases that make up this initial section of the library.
'W-Wait!' Rashawn calls out and runs on after her.
'It's a full moon out tonight.' Sir Beacham says as their cadre of crusaders heads out on horseback. 'Keep your guard up and stay vigilant. This is a bad night for surprises.'
The south watch is something that the Keepers have to perform every night at this time of year. It involves taking a small number of armed crusaders, along with at least one magic practitioner, to keep patrols on the walls and gate that guard the southern pass. Beyond the pass lies an area that for lack of a better term is colloquially referred to as the 'Dark Forest'. Apparitions regularly appear from that direction, wandering northward to the villages, towns and ultimately to the port city. These are annoying but overall harmless spectres. However on some nights, especially full moons such as this, there is always the risk of something far more substantive spawning from that twisted place and reaching the wall. It is the cadre's responsibility to prevent any such incursion from occurring, and it also provides an excellent opportunity for practical experience for the less experienced among the Oakshield Keepers; those such as a certain warlock following at the tail end of the troop.
Rashawn keeps his mouth shut during their sojourn to their first patrol point at one end of the wall. It is not unusual for the warlock to be relegated to such a position. Armed with a dagger and a ward-projecting talisman should prevent anything smarter than a necromonster from picking him off easily without the others noticing. However this time the young warlock has no intention of sticking with the group. Rashawn has his right hand clutching the satchel slung around his neck and tucked underneath his arm. Inside the bag there are some basic provisions, such as food rations and potable water. However there is also a very special book, something that he will need for what he intends to do tonight.
'Hold up men.'
His opportunity arrives whilst they are only a mile out from the walls. Sir Beacham stops their little caravan of Keepers as something up ahead intercepts their path. Rashawn tries to look around to see what it is. The warlock makes out something green and feral on all fours, or sixes even. Before he can identify it the creature leaps at the vanguard members of the watch, going for Sir Beacham and his squire. Blades are drawn and everyone breaks formation, some getting clear off their horses to take to the adjacent trees for better cover. Rashawn grips the reigns of his mount and pulls on them, sending the horse in the opposite direction. As the crusaders engage the monster in combat, none of them seem to notice their warlock departing with his tail tucked between his legs. Once they notice both him and his horse are gone they will likely assume he ran anyway, but if Rashawn finds what he is after the consequences of desertion will not matter. All he has to do is find the Creche of Asura beyond the wall. This is assuming he can survive for more than five minutes out here by himself.