Lore/Story Prodigy - A Wynncraft Adventure

keep up the great work, i love it
can u put the posts in spoilers though? when i'm scrolling down for the chapter i left off at, it's kinda annoying to scroll through pages of text

 

This is the most amazing thing I have seen so far on writing, the amount that you have written is just insane! Oh yeah are you still doing destinycraft?

 

Glad to see you enjoy it! GuardianCraft production has been halted temporarily. I'll make sure to check on the content team, see where we're at :D

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I'm uploading chapters slowly, so that the new chapter can be finished by the time I've posted everything that was previously deleted on 9/7. Andrew will be coming soon, as will other characters... *Ahem* @yosteric5 @I'm Illuminati

 

Eyyyyyy haven't updated this lore in a while!
A new chapter of prodigy will be released within the next 12 hours! :D

 

Well, its about damn time I got around to releasing this new chapter! Within 12 hours indeed... Hrmph!

Prodigy
A WynnCraft Adventure
Chapter 6

"An Interesting Individual"​

Spoiler: Chapter 6 - part one

{A}ndrew was starting to get really frustrated with this villager.

He stood impatiently beside the old wooden wagon, his short sandy hair ruffling slightly in the breezy wind, the afternoon sunlight warming his already scorched back, heating the leather sides of the sleeveless jacket. His black trousers were incredibly stuffy, sweat running down his legs and soaking into his woolly socks like a sponge. Summer had long gone - why was it such a hot day in Autumn? Maybe the gods were hinting the long awaited eruption of Mount Wynn, or that the Wynnter wasn’t going to snow?

Andrew honestly didn’t care. So long as he had a ventilated apartment in Detlas waiting for him at the end of the day, an overflowing mug of apple cider on the bench at the nearby inn and a comfortable amount of Emeralds in his pocket. Of course, the villager wouldn’t allow it. This idiot may have not realised, but he was holding up everything he had planned for the afternoon. With the pace he was going at, there would be no way he would be able to make it Time Valley. There would probably be a certainty that he would have to find a dry cave for the night. Gah, if he had known that this would have happened, he wouldn’t have stopped here in the first place!

A few minutes ago, Andrew had been galloping through the Detlas plains with his young chestnut horse, Maxy, who he had recently bought from the Detlas stables. A large amount of clouds had blocked the sun, sending a bodiless shadow over the dusty, well-trodden ground. Remains of a once proud cobblestone road was now scattered, dried, crusty mud from previous showers covering the path in patterns. Dust kicked up behind the horses hooves as they charged through the scenery. Long, green grass covered the plains, with sheep dotting the landscape, munching away peacefully. Farmers, humans and villagers alike, were watching their grazing livestock with a sharp eye, looking carefully for straying Savannah Ocelots that had prowled too far away from their natural territory. The occasional oak tree stood proudly against the elements, and provided shade for a few snoozing travellers that were too tired to walk. As Andrew passed through the main farming suburbs, more and more apple trees appeared, until he had made it to the central apple farm. A large square of trees, groaning from red, shiny apples, were surrounded by a rickety wooden fence, going all the way around the property. Beside the apple farm was the cider ranch, a sturdy two-storey farmhouse with a deck at the front. Most of the sellable, ready-to-drink cider was stored outside, under the cool shade of the light, bolted roof. An old hound resting on the front deck raised it’s head inquisitively as Andrew passed like a blur, before settling down again and going back to sleep.

Not too much time passed before he was riding in the wide plains, the final frontier before Nivla Woods. A huge stretch of sloping ground and oak’s, lined with the occasional ruins, it would take months to cross this land. Secrets and treasures are still uncovered every day or so, deep underground, left for thousands of years.

The plains were not without its dangers. At day, there was crickets chirping in the grass for as far as the ear could hear. But at night, ancient monsters roam the deepest regions of here, searching for another meal to pass by. That is why not many adventurers brave the unknown places of the province at night.

But Andrew knew far worse places than the depths of these plains. A series of underground caverns, not too far from here, still remains. Andrew can remember moments in there most vividly, and he wished that they could leave him, that the events that took place three years never happened. He could of been home…

Stop it, he told himself firmly, shaking himself of grief. It happened, and there’s no other way to change it. You need to move on, and focus on the present…

He continued to ride for another 15 minutes, until he had arrived at the great rivers bridge. The sun was beginning its descent into the ground, on the other side of the ocean. Its light cast shadows among the now closer trees, creating cool spots of shade that he desired so much as he rode.

Below the crossing, the great rivers currents sloshed and churned over rocks and shallow spots in the riverbed, great waves of water speeding below him. The bridge itself was huge - a wide, carved wooden pathway with stone railings and a mossy roof above.

Squinting as Maxy galloped over the sturdy bridge, he could see across it an all too familiar sight - the dark, mysterious blanket of trees only known as Nivla Forest, and an old wagon parked by the path, belonging to a grumpy junk merchant. For reasons only Andrew knew, he didn’t get along very well with this particular villager. But he was sure there was someone else out there that felt the same as him about the merchant. From all of the buying or selling villagers he’d ever met, this one was the worst.

The bridge creaked slightly as the large weight of both rider and steed trotted over its aged planks, startling Andrew for a second. Brushing the thought of crashing into the river and being swept away like the currents themselves, he crossed the bridge and landed on firm soil. The merchant hadn’t noticed him yet, crossing the river. His straw hat was still loosely planted over his tall forehead, stopping any light from disturbing his slumber. As Andrew came closer however, the clip-clop of hooves briskly awoke the merchant. Groggily, he pushed up the straw hat with his finger to see what was causing the noise, then grunted and tipped the hat down again. Guess he wasn’t glad to see Andrew either.

“Woah, Maxy,” Andrew said calmly to her, pulling on the reins and stopping her run short, turning it into a trot. The cloud of risen dust blew into Andrew’s face, so he turned away for a second, then continued trotting towards the merchant. The villager wasn’t doing that much to prepare for sales. Still sitting lazily in the wicker chair he always sits in, the only recognition of Andrew was his cold, calculating dull eyes, fixed onto him like a hawk watching its prey from a distance.

Andrew slowed Maxy further, before finally stopping her at a halt, and whispered “Good girl’ into her ear. He then raised his leg over the saddle onto the other side, sliding down and dropping onto the dry, cracked gravel path with a thud.

Grabbing the leather reins, Andrew guided Maxy over to the wagon, rubbing her mane gently. The villager grunted a greeting, and Andrew nodded curtly, still keeping Maxy steady.

“You still accepting rotten flesh?” He asked.

“Of course,” Came the deep, irritated reply. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking,” Andrew replied casually. He then pulled out of his side pouch a bundle of smelly, stained cloth. The smell coming from it was revolting, like a mixture of dog poo, clothing that hadn’t been washed in months, and unkempt beef, left outside for flies to demolish.

Andrew dropped it onto the weathered table the villager used for business, splattering an oily liquid onto it. The twine keeping the package together fell apart from the fall, and the objects inside was shown.

A large, stinking pile of bubbling, oily, boil-spotty, hair covered rotting flesh.

“Picked these up a few hours ago,” Andrew said confidently.

“Where abouts?” The villager asked. He had pulled it further toward him, investigating the pile. He pulled a thin slab off the stack, poked it, smelled it, stretched it, then set it back on the pile again, before picking up another one.

“Outskirts of the Black road. Cut them clean off the undead.”

The merchant had finished examining them, and had jumped up from his wicker chair, turning his back to Andrew. He appeared to be rummaging through an iron chest.

“Why do you need rotten flesh?” Andrew asked suddenly.

The villager stopped rummaging, and turned to face him. “What?”

“Why do you need the rotten meat? I’ve wanted to ask for ages. Is there something you merchants need it for, or -”

Andrews sentence was cut off short with a snarl. “Never you mind!”

The villager then returned back to the chest, and pulled out a medium drawstring bag, dumping it onto the table beside the rotting flesh. The contents of the bag jingled around like broken bits of glass tapping merrily on each other as a pile. That was the sound Andrew liked to hear.

He quickly lifted the bag back off the table, undid the drawstring, and looked inside. And his expression changed from a satisfied smirk - to a confused expression.

“What is this?” He asked, looking back up at the merchant. His voice sounded curious, but there was an edge of anger in there, like a blade about to slit a throat.

“Emeralds, like you wanted,” the merchant replied, pointing to the bag.

Yes, it was filled with the glittering small cut gems that Andrew required to pay for rent, but something was amiss. The problem was -

“You didn’t give me enough,” Said Andrew, frustrated. “Surely there’s some mistake!”

“You have the right amount for the flesh you gave me in your hands, there is nothing else.”

“This is only fifteen emeralds! There’s about 20 pieces of rotten flesh on that stack, you should’ve given me forty!”

The merchant crossed his arms impatiently. “Times have changed, human. Prices for certain needed objects have doubled, and I don’t have enough to pay you the full amount.”

“This is ridiculous!” Andrew cried. “You’re ripping me off, that’s what you’re doing!”

“I - told - you,” the merchant replied through gritted teeth. “That’s all I can give you. Now unless you have more worthless items that you don’t need, you have no reason to be here.”

Andrew stepped back from the table with a desperate look on his face, thoughts whirling around in his head faster than a tornado. This villager was clearly robbing him of items, but there was nothing he could do.

“Fine,” Andrew spat, as he turned away. “Have your stupid rotten flesh, and your emeralds.”

He grabbed Maxy’s leather reins tightly, and stalked away from the merchant’s caravan, muttering strings of abuse. “Stupid villagers, thinking they can keep emeralds to themselves…”

He realised that what the villager was explaining about the price increase was true, as bad as that seemed. But the fact that he just didn’t give him the right amount?

Bah, Its happened, leave it alone. The sun was sinking further and further into the ground like an anchor, leaving Andrew with barely any time to pass through Nivla Forest. Looks like the cheerful walk, followed by a quick rest wasn’t going to happen anymore. Maybe he could stop and stay the night at that forest village he’s been told about so many times, from the older adventurers at the pub…

He hadn’t noticed it until now, but Maxy was acting very strange, tossing her mane about nervously, pawing the ground with her front left hoof.

“Hey hey hey,” Andrew murmured, stepping in front of the distressed horse, rubbing her muscly front. “It’s okay, everythings fine.”

Clearly it wasn’t fine for the horse. Andrew kept rubbing her front, trying to calm her worrying behaviour, but nothing was working.

“What’s wrong, girl?” He asked with a soothing tone. “There’s no monsters around for miles. What’re you getting scared -”

Andrew realised that the horse’s movement, especially her eyes, was all going in one direction - right behind him. He twisted around, expecting to see nothing but the gravel path, and a few stray objects lying in the long-bladed grass. What he didn’t expect to see, at all - was of course on the horizon.

“- About?” He finished his sentence with a small voice.

Two figures stood alone, leaning on each other, in the middle of the gravel path. distorted by the waves of heat coming from the gravel, it seemed that there was indeed two people. But something was definitely wrong.

One of the men was being dragged by the other with struggle, and the opposite figure was having a hard time pulling. Clearly the man was hurt, badly if he couldn’t stand himself.

Andrew’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the two figures drop to the ground heavily. Maybe they were just a few drunkards, having a rest on the side of the path.

But as Andrew walked a few steps forward, he could see more clearly - one of them was shaking the limp man desperately.

He wasn’t moving.

His body kicked into motion instantly, as a harsh blast of unexpected cold wind buffeted into his face. With a step and a jump, he climbed back onto Maxy, whipping the reins sharply.

“Come on Maxy, Yah!” He shouted.

The horse reared back, and with a neigh, brought its hooves back to the gravel road hard, pressing forward and cantering ahead with Andrew holding on for dear life. The trees, the grass, the road, flew past him faster and faster, until everything around him became a blurred smudge, intense wind whipping past his sandy hair and eyes, making him squint against the pressure. Maxy had never ran this fast before. But then again, he had only recently bought her.

The howl of the wind was drowned by the clip-clop of the horses hooves. Andrew couldn’t hear anything but the rhythm of his heart, and the crunch of the gravel beneath him. The two figures on the horizon were becoming closer every second. First a speck, then a larger dot, then they were a few metres ahead. Maxy slowed to a trot, careful not to tread on the two figures, and the ride was already over. Andrew could now see up close what he was dealing with - and it wasn’t pretty.

The crouching man, dressed in a scarlet and yellow lined robe, was shaking the unconscious man rapidly, repeating the same sentence again and again.

“Daniel, come on! We’re so close, you gotta wake up!” again and again, he repeated, and Andrew watched it from atop Maxy, feeling a stab of sympathy for the most likely dead man. He then realised that he was still sitting on the horse, and that he should go help him.

Andrew swung his leg over and slid down the side of Maxy, jogging over to the crouching man. “Hey!” He shouted. “Is your friend okay?”

The cloaked man had now registered his presence, and turned his head over to look at him. He was clearly in a deal of great distress, and the bottom of his rough trousers were covered in vomit. “No, he isn’t!” He replied quickly, coughing. “He’s sick, he needs medical care.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Andrew crouched beside the weakened man. Beyond the effects of whatever this person was sick of, he could see this young man was older than him, by a fair few amount of years. Messy jet black hung off his forehead, drenched in sweat and muck. His skin was extremely pale, his eyes closed, and bile was smeared by his lips. He appeared to be unconscious, but every so often he gave a large shudder, falling limper and limper. The leather tunic and helmet he wore were faded and peeling - not very new, most likely second-hand or stolen.

“He’s been bitten by Nivla spiders,” The cloaked man explained, hiccupping. “A whole nest attacked him, injected a lot of venom in him.”

“How long ago was that?” Andrew asked, while lifting the black-haired one’s eyelids, checking for any infection.

“More than a day.”

Andrew whistled. “And he’s still alive? thats impressive.”

“I made an ointment to absorb the venom,” Red-cloak continued. “Covered the wounds with it. There’s still a large amount left in him though.”

“Well, there’s no such thing as an instant cure,” He muttered, lifting himself off the road. “Where were you planning to go? The medical wing in Detlas?”

“Precisely. But -,” He pulled the cloak aside, revealing a thin rip in his black shirt. His shoulder was wet with blood, the scarlet liquid turning even darker from the dye. “We were attacked in the woods,” He explained, letting go of the cloak sleeve where it rested. “By bandits. The leader, some guy named Flaxias threw one of his knives at me. Hit me right in the shoulder.”

It wasn’t his own wound, but Andrew automatically winced anyway. “Yikes.”

“It’s not major, but it’s fairly deep. I can’t really move it,” He raised his arm pathetically, before dropping it back again, his face scrunched with pain.

The unconscious figure gave another large shudder, saliva bubbling from his ajaw mouth. He looked severely sick. Rushing over, the robed man attempted to pull him to his feet. “A little help?” He wheezed. “I can’t hold him much longer.”

“Oh - yeah, of course,” he replied, then hurried to the other side of the man, putting an arm over his shoulder. As soon as he took some of the weight however, he nearly toppled over. The man was heavier than he looked.

“We can get him up on the horse,” Andrew panted. “I’ll go on foot, you can take the front.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” The robed man replied, sounding equally tired. “It’s your horse. I don’t ride horses.”

“Actually, I only bought Maxy today,” Andrew explained sheepishly. “I barely know anything about her than you do.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I could try then.”

After what felt like an eternity awkwardly dragging the sick warrior to Maxy, Andrew (with difficulty) pushed him up onto the horse’s back, easing him into a position so that he wouldn’t fall off the other way. The robed man then got up after him, grabbing hold of the reins with his good hand.

“You know, I don’t think I caught your name?” Andrew enquired, while tightening a few straps on the saddle.

“It’s Alar,” The robed man answered, his face devoid of emotions. He jerked his thumb behind him. “And that’s Daniel.”

Andrew nodded. “My names Andrew.”

“Well, Andrew,” said Alar. “Thank you. If Daniel was awake right now, he probably would of wanted to say thanks as well.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Alar shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, trying to find a spot that wasn’t going to give him a wedgie. “Say,” He began. “How old are you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You don’t look very old to be, well - an adventurer, that’s all.”

He flashed a mischievous grin, expecting a surprised expression. “I’m 16,” he answered.

Alar’s jaw dropped, and was picked up very quickly. But Alar couldn’t hide the unexpected shock. Before the man could ask anything else, Andrew moved to the back of Maxy, and smacked her hide. She reared with a neigh, and surged forwards surprisingly quickly, leaving a cloud of turned dust in her path. Within a few seconds, she was over the bridge, leaving Andrew on the opposite side.

“Heh,” Andrew muttered. “They always look so surprised.” If they only knew what he had gone through, in such a short amount of months.

Chuckling, Andrew began the long walk back to Detlas.

* * * * *
​

Daniel heaved the heavy stack of hay up and over, dropping it onto the back of the wagon. He spat out the stray piece of dead grass in his mouth, then brushed off his already dusty worn clothes from hay. That was only the 5th stack of hay he’d placed on the wagon, and he wasn’t even picking up a sweat. Kudos to that.

It didn’t seem like the right place to care for cows and chickens in this valley. Katoa Ranch may be safely tucked up, way on top of the peak of the abnormally large cliff, like a wooden fortress. But monsters always found a stray cow to munch on at night. Not to mention they roam about in the crop field, scattering whatever is under their feet. Some villagers have the suspicion that these zombies that awaken here at night are blind. Daniel knows for a fact that they aren’t. Just incredibly stupid. Typical.

“Nice work, Daniel!” Came a yell. It was Alkoraan, still incredibly agile, despite his age. He walked over to him, carrying a basket of eggs, fresh from the coop. “It was good of you to offer lifting the hay bales for farmer Bole.”

“That’s what I’m here to do,” Daniel grinned. “Here to help.”

Help… help… help - HELP

His last sentence stuck in the air like an echo, till it became louder and louder, transforming into a terrifying scream. Daniel heard the clicks, the scattering, before he could see it. He whirled around, running in front of the wagon. The look on his face went from concerned - to utmost horrified.

A massive, swirling pitch black cloud had settled over the fort of Ragni. It didn’t look like a normal cloud. Every inch of it was moving, in and out, like a freak swarm of hornets.

Daniel squinted. No - not hornets… Spiders…

There came an almighty rush of wind, and the cloud began to break, falling - directly above Ragni. It was falling, falling -

CRASH

The storm of spiders fell into the streets, immersing everyone near in inches of venom-dripping fangs, spindly legs, and red beady eyes. Terrified screams pierced the air, turning what was a once peaceful afternoon - to a nightmare of an evening.

Daniel was frozen in shock. What should he do? Go help fight off the spiders? Or should he run?

I’m not running, he thought with determination. Not anymore.

He stepped forward, but he wasn’t moving anywhere. Every moment felt like he was swimming through syrup. He willed his legs to press forward, but his body wasn’t listening. Somehow, he felt like he had shut down, his brain the only living compartment. “Grraaaaaaaahh!” He screamed with fury. Nothing was working! He could almost imagine the spiders falling onto him now…

Wait… he looked up to the sky. Surely… no…

Another monstrous wave of spiders had materialised in the air. He could see them, thousands of legs, spineless backs. But - they were directly above them, not on top of Ragni.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came.

CRASH dhyvbvsdbnsuvnhuvnuiv nuncunhuchweyweggwe ucujucnuvjitminydcbsyDerp

Part two will come out when its released! So, not that far away!

 

Glad to see you continue this! Also the Derp on the last line of the story lol

 

ERMAHGURD I've been waiting so fricken long for this XD.
Great writing! Keep it up.

Also do u need characters anymore?

 

No, in terms of characters for Book one, I'm good :D

 

Awesome, I'm so pumped XD

 

Bumpity Bump.
In the good nature of bringing updates (hey, it's christmas!) I've got some news that fans of Prodigy have been waiting for since the start of this year:
Prodigy: A Wynncraft Adventure
- Chapter 6, part two
-coming TONIGHT
Prepare your butts, cause this only leads to something larger... ;D

 

Prodigy
A WynnCraft Adventure
Chapter 6

"An Interesting Individual"
PART TWO​

Spoiler: Chapter 6 - part two

Cautiously, he stepped down the slope, checking for any fragile cracks in the dirt. He held his spear tightly, keeping it in front of him always. Beads of sweat clung on his forehead like leeches, occasionally falling and splashing on the ground. There was nothing but silence, and the scratch-scratch coming from his diamond infused boots, rubbing against the ground. It was too quiet. Something was amiss.
The monster was expecting him…

When he awoke, there was only darkness. Everything was silent. Then there came a voice, far away. It was saying something, but he couldn’t hear it completely.
The darkness began to cave in, and a dark red spread over his vision. The voice was becoming louder and louder with every second, until something miraculous happened…
Daniel opened his eyes.
He couldn’t exactly move anywhere. His legs weren’t even on the ground. Daniel blinked a few times, taking in the surroundings.
He was lying in a wooden-framed bed, clean white sheets covering the majority of his body waist-down. He looked down, and his bare muscular chest looked back at him. It was covered in scratches, puncture marks, and a long, red stitch lined the side of his abdomen. His back was supported by a few pillows, keeping him upright. He felt warm, and content.
The room he had awoken in was rectangular in shape and looked very clean, with nothing out of place. His clothes, bag and spear had been neatly stacked at the foot of his bed, eagerly waiting to be worn again. He turned his head to the left. There was a row of white beds, all exactly the same as the one he was lying in. It looked like he had been placed in the corner of the room. A rickety wooden cabinet hung from the wall opposite, containing medical equipment - scissors, bandages, bottles holding strange liquids. The walls were all wooden, with leather carpet lining the floor. Daniel looked over to the right. A pleasant ray of sunshine was beaming through the glass window, resting on his sheets. He could see the little pieces of dust, swirling past the ray, then disappearing out again. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel at peace with the world. He stared at it for a few minutes, blocking everything else from his mind, then realised where he was.

It was the medical wing, in Detlas.

He cracked a grin. He had made it. Finally, to his destination. Outside, there was sounds of villagers and humans, selling, buying, shouting at the market. He could hear a dog, barking in the distance. Shifting further in the bed, he could see the rooftops of every house on the east side of the city. Smoke lifted from a few chimneys, and birds would rest every so often on the roof tiles. Daniel shifted again, settling back in his seat, and sighed.
Despite only being a few days walk between Ragni and Detlas, Daniel felt a million miles away from his home. He may not of liked it that much, but - memories had been made there. Some good, some bad.
Perhaps it would be better to replay the previous events from yesterday, to keep his mind off from being homesick. Daniel rested his head back, looking at the ceiling, and began to recount.

He had ran from his home, his only guardian, and fought off a horde of zombies. He felt proud of that achievement, slaying monsters. But he still was guilty about leaving Alkoraan. That night, was now nothing but a memory, a gazillion years before.

Then he had flown, all the way into the middle of Nivla Forest, where he was attacked by spiders, and nearly died, if not for Alar saving him. They had travelled through the woods, until he had another spasm, and was then attacked by bandits. Their leader, Flaxas, was going to kill Alar, if Daniel hadn’t thrown that knife. The exact same weapon was lying on the white sheets, resting beside his childhood spear.

They had made it out of the woods, but Daniel passed out (but not before throwing up everywhere) and then…

Nothing. No matter how many times he racked his brain, anything that had happened beyond there was lost. What had happened? Did Alar successfully bring him here? No, he couldn’t have… he had been injured too. Where the hell was he now? And if Alar didn’t bring him here, then who did?

As if on queue, Alar pushed open the door and walked in. His arm was wrapped tightly in bandages, held in a sling. He looked tired, dark creases around his eyes. Possibly could have stayed up all night. His robes were clean, no sign of any blood or vomit. Alar cracked a weak grin when he saw Daniel, watching him from the corner of the room, safely tucked in bed.

“Hey,” He managed to speak without hurting his arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” came the rasping reply. “What happened? How did we get to Detlas?”
“It’s complicated,” Alar replied. He shuffled over to his bed, then pulled up a chair, landing with all his weight onto it.
“Explain then. I’ve got all the time I need,” Daniel gestured to his surroundings.
Alar sighed. “Well, you passed out once we got out of the woods -”
“I can remember that -”
“Do you want me to tell you how we got here or not?” Alar demanded. Daniel shrugged, then motioned for him to go on.
“I couldn’t move you anywhere, my arm was too bad. Then this guy came on a horse, asked me if you were alright. He helped you up, then put you on his horse, and we rode,” He gestured, his hand cutting through the air like a path. “All the way to Detlas. He said he would follow, and he did. Some healers got you on a stretcher, then operated on you. You slept the rest of the evening, and the night.”
“Wait,” Daniel interrupted. “Does that mean… I’m cured?”
Alar nodded, smiling. “Yep. You’re all clean.”
“Oh, thank the gods of Wynn!” Daniel raised his hands up toward the ceiling, his eyes closed in triumph. “So,” He settled back again, resting his arms on the sheet. “This guy - what’s his name?”
“Andrew. And he’s 16.”
“What?!” Daniel yelped. “He’s still a teenager?”
“Yeah,” Alar replied. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Where is he? Is he still in Detlas?”
“He said if we wanted to find him, he would be in the pub opposite to the medical wing. So, yes. He’s still here.”
Daniel fell silent, his brow furrowed in thought. He moved suddenly, pulling back the sheets, landing his feet on the floor unsteadily. Alar jumped out of the rickety three legged stool, his arms outstretched. “Whoa!” He cried. “What are you doing? The healers said you were still fragile.”
“I feel fine,” Daniel replied. He reached over to his neatly folded clothes, grabbing the light blue shirt. He slid it over the top of his chest, hiding the many scratches and marks he had gained from the misadventures at Nivla Forest. After connecting his belt over the shoulder with a *click*, he then summoned his spear, sheathed it, and wrapped the tattered checkered scarf around his mouth, tying it tightly with a knot under his thick jet-black hair.
“Look, I said to them I was coming here cause I wanted to check up on you,” Alar explained. “You can’t just leave, they have rules for the patients - where are you going?!”

He said the last sentence with a raised voice, stopping Daniel in his tracks. His bag was already safely slung over his back, his boots tied beneath his feet. He turned, and smiled. “To say thanks,” He replied, then flew out the doorway, jogging up the corridor.

Alar sighed, “Dammit, Daniel,” then followed in pursuit, slamming the door behind him. Once again, the room fell silent.

* * * * *
​

Andrew raised the heavy wooden mug. It was filled to the brim with Detlas Cider, the clear golden liquid he loved so much. He took a brief sip, then set the mug back down on the sturdily crafted table, sitting back. He looked relaxed. But if anything he felt worried for that man in the medical wing, sleeping his life away.

Would he ever wake up? Having venom in your blood for longer than 24 hours sounded concerning. He hadn't heard of anyone who've survived that long without passing out, and, well - dying. So feeling afraid was sensible. He leant back further in his seat. Hopefully this cider, and the meal he'll order later will take his mind off earlier events.

As if he almost expected it, Andrew turned his head sharply to the door of the barely lit inn - just as it opened, and two men stepped through.

It was him. The man who had been on the brink of death only a few hours ago. What was his name again? He was sure it started with D… Dylan? No, that didn’t sound right. Dobby? Again, wrong. And ridiculous. Did he know anyone called Dobby? No, he didn’t, he was sure of it.

Behind the near-dead man was Alar, the mage that had been accompanying him when Andrew found them. He still wore the cloth sling that was hung around his neck, supporting his injured arm & chest. The robed figure tapped - err, damn; what was his name again? - on the back. The mystery adventurer noticed Alar’s shove, and looked towards the direction of Andrew. For a moment, he stared at him with wide, intelligent - differently coloured? - eyes.

Andrew sighed. Looks like he’ll have to go introduce himself then.

He heaved himself off the comfortable wooden chair, and walked over to the two injured adventurers, dodging tables & chairs that had been left pulled out. Finally making it to the entrance, he raised a hand in greeting. The scarfed man nodded.

“Well, well,” Andrew said, while kicking a table out of his way. “If it isn’t Mr I’m-certain-to-die-from-spider-poison. How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” The man replied. “But then again, I’ve never been attacked by a nest of spiders.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Andrew asked. “I’d love to hear how you guys managed to walk away from Nivla Woods practically half-dead. I mean, if you’re comfortable about it,” he added cautiously.

The man glanced at Alar, uncertain. The mage shrugged. “Whatever, dude,” he said. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

The scarfed man breathed in deeply, like he was in thought. “Yeah, sure,” he answered to Andrew. “Not like I’ve got somewhere to be right now.”

“Great!” Andrew grinned. “My table’s just over yonder -” he pointed to his usual spot - “we can talk there.”

The three young men shuffled past the tables & irritable old drunks snoozing at benches, until they finally made it back to Andrew’s table. Andrew grabbed two seats, plunked them around the table, then gave Alar and what’s-his-face a chance to sit down - before he finally landed on his wooden chair, exhaling. “So, uh - you guys planning on telling me why you decided to migrate to Detlas at such a dark time like this?” He prompted.

Alar and - (Wait, he remembered his name!) Daniel gave him a confused look. “I’m sorry,” Alar replied. “But what do you mean by ‘Dark times’?”

There was a short moment of silence. Andrew looked at the pair incredulously, then roared with laughter. “Wait, wait,” He struggled to speak between fits of giggling, “You mean to say you haven’t heard about the Rebellion?”

Daniel opened his mouth to shortly reply he hadn’t, but Alar raised his hand to stop him. “Of course we have,” He replied crisply. “We just didn’t think it was much of a problem right now.”

“Are you kidding? It’s worst than the bandit infestation & corruption put together!” Andrew’s tone suddenly turned serious. “They say they’ve been attempting raids in different villages at the same time, and dragging men & children back to convince them to join their cause. Not to mention, if they refuse to join, they burn down everything as a warning.”

“No way…” Daniel muttered. “Which places have they attacked?”

“None of the main villages, y’know - Ternaves, Bremminglar. Settlements in between, more or less. Now that I think about it, the appropriate term would be travelling settlements. Or,” he added, “Gypsies would do as well.”

“Err - right,” Daniel replied, starting to feel uncertain if this boy was actually telling the truth. “Listen, Alar told me you were 16. Is this true?”

Andrew’s face turned from relaxed to stone-cold. He crossed his arms defiantly. “Yeah, I am,” he snapped. “You got a problem with that?”

“No no no,” Daniel replied hastily. “It’s just that… I’ve never really seen an adventurer at such a -”

“At such a what?” Andrew demanded. “Such a small frame? Not strong enough to pick up a damn bow? You think I’m too young to be an adventurer, huh?”

“I knew this was going to happen,” Alar muttered in Daniel’s ear. He motioned him to shut up, waving his hand to move back.

“No one thinks that,” Daniel replied calmly. “I was going to say something entirely different. Now, how about we calm down, before I lose my cool - alright?”

Andrew abruptly sat silent, realizing he was sitting opposite to two more powerful magic-users that were far more older than him. “Okay, okay.”

“Good,” Daniel nodded. He now had the knowledge this boy was going to be trouble - especially with that feisty temper. “I was going to say I’ve never seen someone at such a young age whose eager enough to explore Wynn on his own.”

“You really think I need someone to hold my hand?” Andrew snorted. “Let me tell you something, ‘Toxic drool,’ - (“You dribbled while you were unconscious,” Alar interrupted under his breath to Daniel) - “I’ve been doing this business for three years. When the bad guys are ordered to attack me, they take steps back. I’ve gone so far to the edge of Troms jungle itself, and I have seen enough supernatural shit that makes our combat spells look like harmless firecrackers. I do this alone - always have, always will. I don’t need casualties on my jobs. People dying is what - it’s what made me start in the first place,” He bowed his head sullenly. It seemed he had finished talking about his motives.

“No one’s doubting your skills, kid,” Alar assured. “But perhaps you should explain this first before someone makes assumptions.”

“Whatever,” Andrew muttered. “Like I said, I don’t need anyone thinking they’re better than me, just because I’m still growing hair. I’ve already taken the short straw of that deal.”

Daniel and Alar glanced at each other, now very unsure of this boy.

Clearing his throat, Daniel asked, “So, you say you’ve been to the edge of Troms jungle? How’d you manage to travel so far?”

Andrew shrugged. “I have my ways. Lets just say you earn a few favours from powerful allies, working in a dangerous business like my own. I do something for them, I asked to be paid, they comply, and if I do a really good job -”

“ - Wait a sec,” Daniel interrupted. “You ask to be paid?”

“Well, yeah. I am a mercenary, after all.”

Daniel stared at him with disbelief. He thought he was a mercenary? This was getting weirder all the time. To become a mercenary was dangerous, that much he already knew. At least two years after the chain-clad adventurer Daniel knew so well had vanished permanently, a mercenary had staggered into Ragni’s main market, as tipsy as a cat with its head stuck in a bottle. Before he had passed out, he had impressively managed to boast of his skills and the ways of how he’d been trained. To become a sword-for-hire was a much more painful road than becoming an average protector of the province. He wouldn’t say it to his face, but Andrew looked nothing more than a scruffy teenager with shabby clothes, who desperately needed to shave.

And as he had said he was a mercenary, Daniel almost dreadfully anticipated what Andrew was going to ask next…

“So,” Alar added, “You thought saving me and Daniel - was just another job?! for money?!”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Andrew snapped in Alar’s direction. His mood indefinitely changed, now interested in the prospect of profit. “Although now that you mention it, I still have yet to receive my pay for saving you two -”

“WHAT?!”

Daniel jumped out of his chair, letting it clatter to the floor, his hands clenched into fists.

“You think we’re gonna pay you just because you gave us a ride on your horse?!” He shouted, evidently angry. A few men by the bar had stopped chatting and had turned their heads to the worrying argument that was about to unfold.

Andrew immediately stood up, his nostrils flaring. “Well, it’s not like I didn’t have a choice! I could’ve left you and your stuck-up mage buddy on the side of the road -”

“HEY!” Alar protested angrily.

“- But I didn’t! You know why?!”

“Hmm, lemme think,” Daniel scratched his head mockingly. “Maybe because you were only interested in a few quick emeralds?”

“BECAUSE I’M HUMAN!” Andrew bellowed back at him. Daniel stared for a moment, clearly shocked, but resumed to become angry again.

“Then how about you take your smug, ‘human’ ass out of here, and leave while you’re still standing!”

“I’m not going anywhere until you pay your selfish life debt back to me! In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t back down from anything!”

“Well, you’re about to back down - NOW!” Daniel bellowed directly in the 16 year-old’s face.

A tense moment of silence had fallen in the musty pub. Daniel & Andrew were standing tall against each other, Daniel taller by a fair few centimetres. They shared cold, twisted glares, daring one another to make a move. Alar sat frozen, his arms outstretched, careful not to make any sudden movements in case he started a pub brawl.

But as if the gods of Wynn were trying to stop the inevitable, an unexpected man arrived.

A small framed, sweating man burst open the old scratched wooden doors of the pub, panting and attempting to catch his breath. He wore brown, patched-up trousers, a loose white long-sleeved shirt with a blood-stained leather vest covering his concealed chest, and a badly fitting, simple winged iron helmet. It hung off his head more than staying firmly in one place, bobbing and sliding over his sweat-covered scalp. The messenger was trying to speak, it seemed. He opened his mouth several times, only to painfully gasp, and bend over again, retching. “We - we’re -” he croaked, then coughed loudly. Everyone in the pub was staring at this strange little man, wondering what he was talking about. He finally gained enough strength and air in his lungs to say what he had been sent to say.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! UNDEAD ARMY! HEADING TO THE SOUTH-WEST ENTRANCE! NEED ASSISTANCE!” He unexpectedly screamed, before collapsing to the ground, exhausted.

 

Wow, A lot of effort put into this :) Keep up the amazing writing!

 

Please put this all into one document, then make another thread with the document! I would love to read the whole thing, but its hard with parts being thrown around the comments!

 

As a matter of fact, I write the actual story on Google Drive, and I copy & paste it onto the forums :D I can make the document available if the majority of fans want it, but I'll have to update it majorly - I do most of the edits once it's on the forums.

 

Hey, this is a name of a great book I've read :33

HP reference..?

Team me? :D

I'll make sure to read this story whenever I feel for it :3

 

Never heard of a book called Prodigy... 'cept this one ;D

Major coincidence, trust me... ;D

 

Legend - Prodigy - Champion, a trilogy by Marie Lu, definietly worth reading! :D
Coincidence? I think not!

 

Huh, I'll have to look for those books in the local library - the plot seems quite interesting.

 

yess plzzz, would love to be able to read the google doc version

________________________________

FINALLY

 

Legend trilogy is interesting but a bit romantic for me, while we're on the topic of books, try steelheart and firefight :P