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Fable : Fall of the Guild	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Fable Views: 8222 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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Grim Mountain.
Fable : Fall of the Guild

Part IX - "Hook Coast"

By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson

Original Date Written: November 6, 2012

Timoteo found himself standing, sand beneath his boots. It was dark, but he could understand where he was, he could recognize it. Had he been there, before? It was the Witchwood Arena, moonlight washing over it, putting the storied coliseum under a pale white light. He stood there for a few seconds, hearing something, some repetitive chant. It started small, indistinct. As seconds went by, it grew in strength, continuing until he could make it out. It was coming from all around him, from the stands around the arena, from the benches.
“Coward, coward, coward...Coward, coward, coward...”
Timoteo glanced around at the benches. He could recognize faces in the shadows. Weaver, the Hero of Oakvale, Briar Rose, Thunder, Scythe, Kiln, Marst, Travis, Calvin, even Grimm, the Hero that had bought chainmail shirts for Timoteo and Darrah, so long ago. They looked at him with disappointment, the tones of their voices getting angrier the louder they repeated their chant. Timoteo whirled around, looking everywhere.
“Coward, coward, coward! Coward, coward, coward!”
They were everywhere, no matter where he looked, he would see them seated together in the benches. They were shouting now, pounding their fists into the air, looking at him hatefully, murderously. The moon above abruptly turned red, casting the arena under the colour of blood. A laugh rose up above the chanting, coming from the other side of the arena. Timoteo looked over with a little gasp. He could see her from the twin pinpoints of her glowing red eyes. It was Octavia, or, perhaps Bianca? It was hard to tell in the gloom, he was too far from the individual to be sure, either way. The figure raised an arm, and the ground in front of Timoteo suddenly burst apart, a rotting corpse being regurgitated up from the sand. The faces in the stands were practically foaming at the mouth, screaming maniacally.
“Coward, coward, coward!! Coward, coward, coward!!”
Timoteo’s eyes went wide at the corpse, the Hero stumbling backwards. Much of the flesh had decomposed, while the innards had largely been feasted upon by insects. He was much older than Timoteo remembered him, his hair grayer, his stature diminished. The sand beneath him gave way, Timoteo crying out with shock. The chanting went unabated, Timoteo collapsing into open space, his father’s corpse not far behind him. Timoteo spun around in the cloud of sand, trying to look beneath him. The floor of the arena had collapsed into the Chasm of Blood, Timoteo plummeting towards the lake of blood at the bottom of the catacombs. Wind whipped past his face, cold like ice shards against his chest. The center of the lake bubbled and frothed for several seconds before a figure rose up from the liquid. It was Octavia, her broken and crushed body reaching up to him, blood squirting from her every orifice. She grinned, her eyes glowing bright red, piercing into him.
“Coward! Coward! Coward!!”
Timoteo woke up with a gasp, struggling with his bed sheets, throwing them from himself. Panting, he sat up, blinking a few times. The tent was dark with early morning, the wind outside howling, battering at the fabric walls of his little dwelling. He was only in his trunks, but the inside of the tent had warmed up enough for him to find it bearable. He was in shock for a few seconds, not thinking of anything, not doing anything. He eventually crossed his legs beneath himself, put his elbows to his knees, and rested his forehead down in the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, trying to relax. His heart was pounding, painfully bashing against his ribcage. He realized Bianca wasn’t in bed with him, then. He couldn’t feel her near, her comforting touch was absent. The spot in the bed beside him, however, was still warm, proving she hadn’t been gone for very long. He was exhausted, he knew he needed more sleep, but he couldn’t return to the dark, not just yet.
Not while the horror of the nightmare was still fresh in his mind. It wasn’t often that he received such startling dreams, nightmares alone were few and far between. Perhaps this, he reflected, was how Darrah felt after each of her painful nightmares. He could still hear them, their voices clearly defined, condemning his lack of action, his unwillingness to race to his father’s rescue. They all thought he was pathetic. They all thought he was worthless. His jaw went tight, his face screwing up in anger. He was a damn coward. Had he been so upset with his family for never visiting him at the Guild that he had just abandoned his father, leaving him to be another victim of the Anti-Hero League? What would Kiln have done? The Hero of Oakvale? Weaver, even? They were real Heroes. What was he, in comparison? Barely a novice. He had graduated from the Guild, but he had little real experience. True, honest-to-Avo Heroes had years of experience, dozens of tales to tell, friends in every town and trophies from every memorable quest.
Compared to that, he was just a poseur, a pretender. Someone walked up to the tent, beginning to undo the flaps from the outside. He didn’t look up, keeping his head in his hands. She noticed him before she had even stepped in, speaking gently as she started buttoning the flaps back together. She was fully dressed, her cloak wrapped close around her body, her hood resting back to reveal her face. “I’m sorry, I must’ve woken you up when I got out of bed...I made you some more of my tea, I’ve got it in my flask...” He still didn’t look up at her, but he did say a quiet thank you. Bianca was silent for a moment before she started walking towards the bed. “...I didn’t wake you up, did I?...A nightmare?” She quietly asked. He took in a slow breath, let it out in a sigh, and answered with a calm “Yeah.” She slipped off her cloak, resting it down over the foot of the bed. She started unlacing her boots as she softly asked “About the battle to come?...”
“My dad.” Timoteo said, finally raising his head, feeling his hands through his hair for a brief moment. Bianca got her boots off, letting them sit beside the bed as she got down on her knees, by his right side. She brought one hand to his upper back, the other to his right forearm. She simply touched him for a second before stroking both hands along him, murmuring out “You’re tensed up...A bad one?...” Timoteo brought his left hand over to her right, holding it a little over his right arm. “...It was...Intense.” He quietly answered. “Want to talk about it?” She lightly asked, her eyes on his face, gazing at him with concern. “It’s...It’s, uh....” He slowly said, hesitant, trying to find the words. He eventually gave a light shake with his head. “It’s nothing...” “Tim...” Bianca murmured, looking at him compassionately. He sighed lightly. “Alright...It was about my dad, at the Arena...About me not doing anything to help.”
Timoteo’s expression turned a little angry, the young Hero staring off at nothing in particular as he muttered out “I could’ve done something, I could’ve helped him. I could’ve worked with Gibbons, we could’ve stopped my dad from ever getting to the Arena, o-or we could’ve busted him out, if he was already there. It’s been ages, and I haven’t heard from Gibbons about it...So...” “You’re not a coward, Tim...I know you...” She lightly said. He sounded angry as he spoke, but he wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with himself, the chanting from his nightmare ringing in his ears. “I didn’t do anything, I just turned my back on him. I just gave up. I could’ve done something...A real Hero would’ve done something.” Bianca rubbed at his back, her eyes sympathetic. She was quiet for several seconds, trying to think of how to respond. Timoteo wouldn’t look at her, he couldn’t, his eyes remaining on the floor of the tent, near his feet.
Eventually, Bianca reached her hand up from his back, bringing it to his left shoulder. She leaned him closer to her, initially surprising him. When she brought the side of his face to her chest, however, he realized what she was trying to do, relaxing at her touch. The closeness, the scent of her body, it put him at ease, soothing him. Smothered up against her bosom, he let her hold him close, one hand still on his shoulder, the other now stroking down the side of his head. “The reasons you had for not doing anything are as valid now as they were, back then...” She murmured. “But...” He barely said, his eyes getting a little moist, purely from frustration with himself. “No Hero could’ve stormed the League, Tim...You know that. That’s not a shortcoming of your’s...Grizelda couldn’t have done it. Neither could the Hero of Oakvale. It’s foolish to even consider it...” Timoteo grit his teeth a little. He couldn’t believe her, he couldn’t let himself believe her.
Softly, aching to comfort him, she said “It’s part of what makes the League evil...There have probably been a lot of people in the same situation as you, having a loved one taken away, then faced with either certain death or submission...Do you run to the Arena, interfere, and die?...Or do you swallow your pride and just stand idly by, accepting what the League has done? I understand why you’re angry, but...” “I should’ve done something...I could’ve worked with Gibbons...Even if...” Timoteo quietly said, momentarily clenching his hands into fists as he trailed off. Bianca’s eyes started to glimmer with tears. “Tim...Please, I need you...Trying to storm the Arena would’ve just been the death of you...” Timoteo was quiet for several seconds, screwing his eyes shut tight before he quietly said “I’m sorry...I just wish...”
“I know...” Bianca gently said, giving the top of his head a kiss. They didn’t say anything for several moments, but eventually, Timoteo raised his head from her bosom, Bianca slowly releasing him. He smiled faintly, lightly saying “Thanks...I feel a bit better, getting it out instead of struggling with it.” She smiled in response, a smile that grew when he gave a yawn shortly after speaking. After his yawn, he added “You’re right, I know you’re right...But...” “I know.” Bianca cooed, bringing a hand to his back again, lightly stroking at him. She leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, then reached over for her cloak. “Here, have the tea I made...Then we can get some more sleep. The sun isn’t even up, yet...” Timoteo nodded lightly, stifling another yawn...
Timoteo slowly came into wakefulness, opening his eyes a crack. The wind had died down since earlier in the morning, relaxing back to a soft breeze, petting at the walls of the tent. He was lying on his back, Bianca cuddled up to his right side, one leg between his, an arm draped across his stomach. The side of her face was to their pillow, close to the side of his head, her chin almost on his shoulder. Unlike him, she still slept nude, despite the chilly environment. He smiled a little, figuring that, even if she wore her underwear, it wouldn’t do much in the way of conserving warmth, anyway. He turned his head towards her a little, enough to see her face. Her lips were just slightly parted in the center, as if she were ready for a long, loving kiss. She breathed slowly and quietly through her nose, each warm breath making a momentary patch of heat over part of his shoulder. She looked so at peace, so content.
With her milky skin and thick, raven black hair, she was beauty personified, a tender angel sharing his bed, sharing her warmth. He smiled a bit more, reaching an arm over, slipping it out from under the bed sheet. He lightly felt through some of her bangs, clearing them from her face, smoothing them behind an ear. Her plump, rosy lips came together, the corners flickering upwards. Was she awake, he wondered? Had he roused her? She took in a deep breath, then let it out in a slow, pleasant sigh. She came closer to him, snuggling up a bit more, pressing her chest into his right arm. She nuzzled her face into the side of his neck, breathing in his scent. He smiled a little. No, she must’ve still been asleep, after all. Asleep, and perhaps wrapped up in some pleasant dream. He rested his arm over the bed sheet, holding Bianca’s arm near her elbow, gently stroking his thumb at her. He could hear voices outside, soft, indistinct.
Some of Alexander’s men, probably getting ready for a delicious breakfast. Soon, the scent of cooking meat would permeate the campsite, sure to rouse his lover. He stared at the ceiling of the tent, feeling Bianca’s warm breath wash out at the side of his neck, her fond cuddling making the cold outside seem twenty miles away. A few dozen minutes passed, but they were seconds to Timoteo, so content was he in the private paradise he had, within the walls of the tent. When that paradise was breached, it was thanks to Brute. He started unbuttoning the top of the tent flaps, saying “Hey, uh, Tim? Bianca? There’s...” He trailed off when he stuck his head into the tent, glancing around. When he spotted them in bed together, their clothes piled off to the side, he was quick to feel awkward. He raised his eyebrows, puckering up his lips as he said “Whoa. Uh...Didn’t mean to barge in.” Timoteo raised his eyebrows, smiling just a little with amusement.
Quietly so as not to disturb Bianca, he said “What is it, Brute?” Brute’s response became evident before he even spoke. The juicy scent of roasting meat came wafting into the tent, flowing in through the opening in the tent flaps. Brute relaxed, speaking a little more quietly as he said “Me an’ the boys are getting some food ready, should be done any time, now. You guys are gonna have to get up if you want some sooner, rather than later. It’s gonna disappear, fast, and then you’ll have to wait, like, another half hour for more to be made.” “We’ll be up.” Timoteo answered, giving a little nod. “Alright...” Brute merely said, popping his head back out of the tent, beginning to button the flaps back together. It was too little, too late, however; the noise, combined with the new scent, roused Bianca. She took in a light breath, then let out a long, pleasant exhale against the side of his neck. “I smell food...” She whispered, by his ear.
He smiled a little, softly saying “Yeah...First call for breakfast will be soon. Are you hungry?...” “Mhm...” Bianca mumbled, giving the side of his neck a little kiss. His stomach rumbled a little, something Bianca smiled at, rubbing a hand over his mid section. “Let’s eat...” She murmured, giving the side of his neck another kiss. She started to move, sitting up a little. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, saying “We don’t have to get out of bed right away, we still have some time, I’m sure...” Bianca only smiled more. She surprised him by turning around, getting under the sheet a little. She carefully came over him, raising one leg and bringing it to his other side, straddling him in reverse. Her blushing red nether bits came over his face, a bit puffy with arousal. He nearly grinned. “Ohh...” He mumbled out, realization dawning in his eyes. Bianca smiled under the bed sheet, kissing at his growing bulge from over his trunks, teasing him a little.
He reached his arms around her waist, easing her down over him, slowly lowering her hips. He teased her a little, too, kissing at the insides of her thighs, kissing at her mons, letting out hot breaths against her lips. Bianca lightly bit down on the strap of his trunks, pulling upwards, moving forwards momentarily to pull far enough for him to be revealed. He felt her kiss at the underside of his shaft, near the base. She slowly worked her way back, planting loving kisses all along him, working her way to the head. He brushed his lips along her’s, feeling the moisture starting to seep from her, making them both glisten. He wrapped his arms around her waist, almost hugging her from below, embracing her as he started kissing at her quim. He bosom, like soft, warm pillows, pressed against his stomach, his lover lying over him with her hands to his knees.
She kissed at his tip a few times, his rod lying back towards his stomach. She snaked her tongue out, flicking it at him a few times before curling around the end, the tip of her tongue coming under his member. With one quick manoeuver, she used her tongue to lift his tool up, bringing the tip between her lips. He felt her suckle at the tip a few times, getting it moist, rubbing her lips back and forth across him. He responded by flicking his tongue at her clit, quickly making it swell, the stimulation making it stand free from it’s hood. Bianca let out a trembling breath through her nose, her warm breath hitting his orbs, enticing him. Soon, their passion was in full swing, the two feasting on each other’s naughty bits with gusto...
Darrah stepped out of her tent, squinting at the sunlight. Her eyes still felt weak, but she could at least stand to open them, now. Dressed in her suit of armour, she had her sword sheathed at her left hip, her kite shield and great helm left back in her tent. Her cape swayed only a little in the breeze, the cape too heavy for the weak wind to toss around. “Darrah!” She heard her father say, relieved and pleased at the same time. She smiled, looking over to a nearby fire pit. Numerous fire pits had been made, each hosting a simple, yet rather effective, contraption. A metal rod had been driven into the ground on either side of every fire pit, each with a pronged top, shaping each of the rods like a tall “Y”. A long skewer had been set over the standing rods, big hunks of meat stabbed on to them, roasting over the fire. One end of every skewer had a crank-like handle, allowing the skewer to be rotated so all sides of every meat piece could be thoroughly cooked.
The fires of each pit had been made large and strong enough that, not only was the wind too insignificant to snuff them out, the campsite had a nice heat flowing through it, making the cold environment more bearable for the soldiers. Some of the fire pits had chairs around them, but due to a limited number of chairs on any one ship, most of the soldiers sat on the ground. Her father’s fire pit, however, had several chairs placed around it. Darrah didn’t see Timoteo or Bianca at her father’s fire pit, but the others were seated around it, Darrah spotting Brute, Craig, Miller, and Wesley. Her father was quickly approaching her, a big smile on his face, his arms outstretched. Darrah smiled warmly when he reached her, putting his big arms around her, hugging her close despite her armour. She hugged him back, and when he released her, he brought his hands to the sides of her head, holding her momentarily as he gave her a kiss to her forehead.
“How do you feel?” He asked, the two releasing each other, meeting eyes and matching smiles. “Better. Not one hundred percent, but I’ll live.” She answered. “Maybe a hot breakfast can help, put some strength back in you.” He brought a hand to her pauldron, guiding her over towards the fire pit. Darrah raised her eyebrows, smiling a little more, saying “Yeah, some food would really hit the spot...Didn’t eat at all, yesterday.” “Good, good. Should be just about done, too.” Alexander said, smiling. Darrah sighed as she sat on a plain wooden chair near the fire, hearing the logs in the pit crackle and fizzle, the meat sizzling with juices. Heat from the fire came over her like a blanket, a new surge of warmth flooding her body every few seconds. Alexander sat down on the chair beside her’s, relaxing, savouring the delectable aroma the meat gave off. Large fork-like metal tools were passed around, each almost as long as a stick, each having a long, thick wooden handle.
Brute stood up from his chair, rotating the handle of the skewer, turning the meat pieces over the fire. “Where’s Tim and Bianca? You’d think they’d have smelled the food, by now.” Darrah commented, glancing at her father. “I checked on them, maybe ten minutes ago. Bianca was still asleep, but I told Tim about being quick for the food. He waits too long, it’ll be gone.” Brute said, making Darrah glance over. “I can’t begrudge them a bit of time relaxing. I was hoping to talk to them, along with you and Brute, Darrah.” Darrah and Brute glanced at each other, Darrah perking up a little. “Why’s that?” She asked. Alexander raised an eyebrow faintly, raising a hand to his thick beard, feeling over it for a moment. “Today, we start moving. Miller’s men will go to the mountains to the east and west of Benedict’s fortress, and get themselves into position. Wesley and Craig will lead the rest for the southern mountains, but I was hoping the four of you could act as vanguards, lead ahead of the general group.”
“Eh...Scouting’s not really my strong suit.” Brute commented. Miller didn’t look at Brute, merely saying “That part’s already been taken care off, the path we’ll be taking is clear, all the way up to the mountain. It’s the mountains, themselves, that I’d be worried about.” Alexander looked at Darrah and said “I’m not asking you to fight anything, if you run into any trouble, you can just come back to us. But it’s going to take a while for the entire group to climb the mountain, especially with all that snow. You can lead the way and assess the situation for yourselves, see if there’s anything that might call for a change of plans.” Darrah nodded a little, slowly saying “Well, alright...But we’ll have to wait for Tim and Bianca, first. And eat, too, Avo, I’m famished. When’s that stuff gonna be done?” “Talk to us about what?” They suddenly heard Timoteo say, approaching the group from behind.
They all looked over, spotting him and Bianca, both fully dressed as they walked over from their tent. “Today’s the day.” Brute answered, giving a little nod. Timoteo seemed just a bit surprised, but it wore off as he said “Right. Are we going with the plan, or has anything changed?” “Nothing’s changed. Except, we’ll be acting as vanguards, scout ahead into the mountains.” Darrah answered. “Okay...Sounds alright. But we’re definitely gonna have to eat, to get our strength up.” Timoteo said, he and Bianca both bringing hands to their stomachs, almost in unison. This inspired mirth in the others. Wesley had a bit of a grin on his face as he said “Alright, I think the food’s cooked enough. Let’s have at it before it burns...”
“Damn snow...Damn mountains...Damn cold!...” Darrah muttered, lugging her feet through a thick layer of powdery snow, her feet having long gone numb with the chill. Timoteo was to her left, Bianca on his other side. Brute was to her right, a large cloak draped around the Hero, the cloak much plainer than Bianca’s. His had no hood, coloured a simple brown, soft like velvet. His battleaxe was slung over on to his back, kept in place thanks to several leather straps reaching around his torso. It was the very same battleaxe he had gotten shortly after his return to Knothole Glade, during the balverine attack he had met Pyre during. It was long and heavy, almost two-thirds of Brute's height in length. The handle was a long pole of steel. The two blades at the end of the axe were long and thick, covered in wide etchings similar to the roots of a tree. The bladed ends of the axe had a slight blue tint to them, though Brute had never figured out if that was thanks to the metal, or because of some smithing technique.
Darrah’s voice was a bit muffled, thanks to her great helm, her kite shield fastened to her left forearm. They had been walking for a few hours, and were very close to the base of the mountain wall before them. The rest of Alexander’s men were close to two kilometers behind them, still in the forest bordering the coast. The four of them were no longer in the trees, having put them behind themselves a while back, leaving the four in open fields of white. Darrah looked over to the side as a white rabbit bolted away from the group, having gone still until they were too close for comfort, invisible until it ran. Darrah watched it run, muttering some more. “Damn rabbit...Damn snow...D-Did I mention it’s damn cold?” “Only about five times.” Brute answered, smiling a little, giving her a glance. “Shut up.” Darrah quickly replied, giving him a slight glare. Bianca reached into her cloak and pulled out her flask, holding it out for Darrah. “Here, Darrah...I have a bit of the tea, left. It’ll warm you up.” She pleasantly offered.
Darrah looked at the flask, her expression turning blank. The flask was small and rectangular in shape. It appeared to be made of a bright and polished silver. The fastening on the top was shaped like a skull, the lower jaw attached to complete the skull. The back of the flask was engraved all along with the shapes of varying bones, as well as a humanoid beast in the center which very well could have been a balverine. The front side of the flask had bones engraved all along it, like the back, only instead of a furred and clawed beast sitting in the front's center, there sat a strange circular design. The design was made up of the runes of another language, perhaps one from the Old Kingdom. The runes formed a circle, almost a barrier against the bones engraved everywhere else. Within that circle, there was a short message engraved in the same runes that formed the protective circle. Darrah was reminded of the last time she had seen the flask, the only other time she had seen it.
She was reminded of how she had acted, the things she had said to Bianca during that time. “Oh, uh...Thanks.” Darrah said, sounding a bit subdued, pulling off her great helm and holding it under her shield arm. She reached over, took the flask, and slowly unscrewed the skull fastening. There were only a few mouthfuls of the tea left, which Darrah finished off over the span of a few moments. Screwing the flask back shut, she held it out in front of Timoteo, offering it for Bianca to take. “Thanks.” Darrah said, thanking Bianca a second time, something the others observed with curiosity. Bianca took back her flask, noticing the pensive look in Darrah’s eyes, how abruptly she had turned inwards. “Are you alright?” She asked, slipping her flask back into her cloak. Darrah quickly nodded a few times, calmly saying “Yeah, fine. Just, thinking...” She pulled her great helm back on, letting out a faint sigh. Looking up at the rapidly approaching incline, the land quickly rising up in a bit of a slope towards the mountain, she hesitantly said “You guys ready to climb a mountain?”
“Piece o’ cake.” Brute stated, grinning somewhat. “This is going to be...Fun.” Timoteo slowly said, obviously as hesitant as Darrah. “We’ll have to be careful of snowy balverines and frozen Hollow Men. Mountains like these are sure to have claimed the lives of many explorers...Plenty of angry wisps, left over.” Bianca cautioned, reaching over for Timoteo’s hand, slipping her hand into his. “I think four Heroes can handle whatever this mountain could throw at us.” Brute said, smirking a little. “We’ll see.” Bianca calmly said, her eyes on the daunting task looming before them...
The trek up the mountain was perilous. No paths existed to show the Heroes easy, well-trusted routes, leaving them blazing their own trail through the snow. Occasionally, they faced a tall wall of ice, forcing them to take a detour and try to find an incline to climb. They were eventually attacked by a group of Wraiths, incredibly dangerous Hollow Men typically confined to frigid regions, like the Northern Wastes. Towering over even Brute, these Hollow Men were the skeletons of ancient warriors, dressed in full suits of armour reinforced by thick layers of solid ice. The Wraiths moved slowly, but swung their massive claymores with enough strength to make the blades whistle through the air, guaranteeing a fatal blow with each cleaving swing.
The creatures were frighteningly durable, both Timoteo and Bianca twice exhausting their pools of mana through the use of fire spells, each only managing to kill a single target. Brute and Darrah fought until they were sweating, hacking at the Wraiths with all their might, dodging their slow, predictable blows. After close to twenty minutes of combat, the Wraiths were all felled. Snow soon fell from the sky, and before the four knew it, a small blizzard had struck the mountain, pounding them with gale-like winds, pelting them with globs of damp snow. Bianca warned the others that they needed to find shelter somewhere, otherwise the blizzard could freeze them solid before it let up...
The wind hit them hard enough that the ascent had slowed to a crawl, figuratively as well as literally. When faced with the threat of being thrown from their feet and sent toppling back down the side of the mountain, the four decided to make their way as low to the ground as possible. Bianca had pulled her hood up once the blizzard started, but even she was getting cold, shivering and shaking as she crawled her way through the snow. The powder snow had all been blown away by the winds, but this only served to make the winds even colder, the powder being carried around by the strength of the gusts. Bianca was much more worried about Timoteo than she was about herself. Out of the four, he was the least clothed, and even if he had some of her tea inside him making him feel warm, that didn’t actually mean his body was resistant to such frigid winds. When Bianca spotted a cave mouth, set in the wall of the mountain a few dozen feet up from their position, her heart leapt.
Shelter! They could wait out the storm, then head back down and reunite with the rest of Alexander’s men. “Th...There! We can...” Bianca tried saying, her jaw chattering too much to let her continue. She could hear the others, clawing their way up the snowy slant, their eyes on the dark opening up above. Bianca led the way, her whole body becoming numb, her hands bright red from digging into the snow. She stared at her goal, her destination, keeping her mind focused on it, trying to block out the cold and the wind. One hand over the other, pulling through the snow, resisting the wind, inch by inch, she came closer until she could almost reach her arm into the entrance. Unexpectedly, a dark figure stepped out into the cave entrance, facing them. Bianca’s eyes widened when the barrel of a rifle came down near her face, aiming directly into her forehead. The figure paused, their finger resting over the trigger, calmly saying “I know you...From the Guild.”
The figure chuckled faintly. “Let’s get you in here, before you freeze to death.” He pulled his rifle back up, shouldering it before kneeling over, reaching for her. He grabbed her under her shoulders, holding on to her from over her cloak. Surprising her with his strength, considering how much her’s had been sapped by the cold, he hefted her up into the cave mouth. Being pulled face-first on to the wet stone ledge was an awkward way to get into shelter, but she was glad to be out of the snow, the only snow in the cave mouth being simple powder and frost. “The others...” Bianca said, shaking, her jaw chattering. “I see them.” The figure calmly stated. Bianca looked up to their saviour as he went to help the others, getting up on a knee in the cave mouth. With his back turned to her, she couldn’t make out any details, the hooded cloak he wore keeping his appearance a mystery. He helped Brute pull himself into the cave, but Darrah, whose cold armour had been severely impacting her ability to move, was almost completely pulled into the cave by the figure.
When Timoteo was hefted into the cave, Bianca moved closer to him, her eyes worried. He didn’t even have his eyes open; fluid from his eyes had turned to ice on his eyelashes, glueing his eyelids shut. He was pale, shivering like mad, unable to get out a single word. “Tim!...” Bianca worriedly said, running a hand down the side of his face. All four of them were soaked, Timoteo’s face damp with cold droplets of melted snow, his clothes hugging tight to his body. “I have a fire going, deeper in the cave. Come on, I have just the thing to warm you all up. I think we have much to talk about, the five of us.” The figure said, barely glancing at them before beginning to walk down into the dark cave shaft. Bianca struggled to get to her feet, helping Timoteo do the same, Timoteo barely in any shape to move, anymore. Brute was chilled to the bone, but he put it out of his mind, persevering. Darrah’s Heroic endurance made her more capable of withstanding the cold than she would’ve suspected, but her armour had quickly become akin to a thousand pound weight, wrapped around her like a blanket.
Moving her joints with the icy armour on her body had almost become an impossibility, leaving her close to utterly disabled. Brute helped her get up to her feet, the two supporting each other as they tried to follow after their rescuer. The cave trail followed a very mild descent, none of the four chilled Heroes in danger of tripping. The shaft didn’t stay dark for long; soon, a warm red glow was evident at the end of the path, beckoning to them. The air became toasty, dry, promising them rest and recuperation. Timoteo and Bianca, helping each other move, followed after the figure until they got to the end of the passageway, entering a large cave room. The figure had obviously been living in the cave for some time, the signs of human habitation were clear. The floor of the cave was smooth, almost like a pebble. A large fire crackled in the center of the chamber, the smoke leading up into a small hole in the stone ceiling, running off into some other cave system.
Thanks to the fire, the entire chamber was bright and warm, offering a stark contrast to the frozen world beyond the stone walls around them. A skewer system, remarkably similar to the one Alexander’s men had used, was set up over the fire, with big hunks of venison roasting over the flames. Over to the left, there was an immense pile of fur pelts, each thick and pure white, every individual pelt almost as big as a blanket. Over to the right, a pile of furs formed a bed, with folded up furs making the pillows. A wooden bookshelf stood by the bed, lined with potions and bags of black powder, along with matching bags of firearm slugs. On the far side of the cave, there was a wide wooden desk, a rather large bow resting overtop. The bow was made from black, warped wood, deceptively looking as if it had rotted some time ago. Lying over the table by the bow was a large leather quiver of arrows, a few dozen arrows still inside.
A simple wooden chair sat before the desk, not appearing to be anything of note. “Here we are. This has been my home since...I’ve lost track of time. Since a few weeks after the Guild fell, at least.” The figure said, walking towards the large pile of furs, over on the chamber’s left side. Darrah’s jaw was shaking so much she was almost incomprehensible. “I...R-Rem-member...Y-You...” She stated, staring at the figure. “And I remember you, as well. Was some time ago, but I remember.” He simply said, glancing at her from over his shoulder. He unshouldered his flintlock rifle, pulled his cloak from himself, and dropped the cloak to the dry floor by the pelts. Their saviour was Grimm, the Hero looking at them with an eyebrow slightly raised, a little smile on his face.
He was fairly tall, about as tall as Brute. His body was a bit thick, the man having some developed muscle to him, but he wasn't quite as beefy as Brute was. Weight-wise, he had a healthy weight to him, the man clearly not wanting for food, even in the inhospitable region. He appeared to be in his early thirties, perhaps late twenties. He had black hair, the bangs combed up slightly, coming back down in a sort of curve, making a bit of a cliff over the man's forehead. He had a widow's peak to his hairline, something Bianca knew was a classic trait of evil Heroes. Aside from his combed bangs, the man's hair was left untouched, although it naturally seemed to stay flat and smooth. He had dark circles around his eyes, the irises of his eyes a hellish red, just like Bianca. His face was well-formed, his jaw strong, his nose perfect. His skin was of a light shade, like Timoteo, Grimm lacking a pale, snowy complexion like Bianca’s. He wore a breastplate made mostly of a dark metal, close to black.
All along the chest of the breastplate, however, there was a rather labyrinthine design of crimson metal. Just over the middle of the man's chest, situated slightly to the left, there was a small design similar to a traditional heart, but it wasn't very noticeable. He was wearing gloves along with forearm defenders, gray fingerless gloves on his hands, leather straps covering his forearms from his elbows to his wrists. Over the outside of his forearms, attached to the straps, long metal strips were apparent, each black with crimson etchings, like the breastplate. Grimm wore black pants to go with the breastplate, large armour plates attached to the fronts and backs of his thighs and forelegs, protecting his limbs. The metal covering most of his legs was like his breastplate, as well; the majority of the metal was dark, but there were maze-like designs of crimson visible. He wore metal boots made of a metal very similar to the protection at other parts of his body, the boots being shadowy with dark red designs along the sides, but not the fronts or backs.
Attached to his gray belt and situated to the right of his shimmering silver belt buckle, there was a Guild Seal. Clipped to the man's left hip, to his belt, was the scabbard of a sword, the handle of the sheathed blade sticking out by the man's side. The tip of the scabbard went down by his side, sticking out by the back of his knee. “You s...Survived?...” Darrah chattered out. “Oh, yes. It was close, but I ultimately escaped what the League did to the Guild.” He said, leaning his rifle against the pile of furs. He grabbed at the first thick pelt atop his pile. “Many of the others weren’t so lucky.” He added, in a mutter. Pulling the pelt from the pile, he tossed it over by the fire, letting it come down in a heap over the cave floor. “I never expected to see any of you, again. One of the last groups of children to come to the Guild, while Weaver was still Guildmaster. The very last, perhaps.” Glancing at Bianca as he tossed over a second pelt, he raised his eyebrows, saying “I would’ve thought you had died.”
He tossed over a third pelt, absent-mindedly saying “But, then again, you didn’t kill that other mage right away. I suppose, with what we had taught you up until that point, you could’ve made your way. Never heard anything about you, though. Once Weaver exiled you, you just disappeared.” He threw over a fourth pelt, making a half-circle around the fire, the pelts almost acting like rugs. Turning to them, he gestured towards the pelts, saying “Now, strip. Especially you, in the armour. Darrah, right? You’ll never warm up until you get out of your clothes.” Darrah and Brute glanced at each other. Grimm grabbed his rifle, walking over towards the desk on the other side of the chamber. “If you’re shy, don’t worry. I have more than enough pelts for you to cover yourselves up, with. But really, I must insist. Once your clothes have dried, you’ll be more than welcome to put them back on.” By then, the ice on Timoteo’s eyelashes had thawed enough for him to open his eyes a bit, looking at Grimm with a bit of surprise.
He had vaguely recognized Grimm’s voice, but he hadn’t been able to figure out exactly where he had heard him, before. Grimm placed his rifle over his desk, then walked back over to his pile of furs. Noticing that none of them had even started undressing, yet, he chuckled. He pulled another four furs from the pile, and tossed one over each of the furs already in place, putting down blankets for them to shy themselves under. Quickly enough, the group’s desire for warmth overpowered any possible reluctance they may have had for being temporarily nude around one another, and they started to undress. Against Grimm’s expectations, Timoteo and Bianca helped each other undress, then slipped under the same pelt, together. Brute helped Darrah out of her armour, then they undressed themselves, slipping under separate pelts. Grimm nodded with satisfaction, saying “Give yourselves half an hour, and you’ll be back to normal. Now, like I was saying, we have some things to speak of...”
He walked back over to his desk, grabbed his chair, and slowly walked over to the fire. He set his chair down, sitting down over it with a subdued sigh. Timoteo and Bianca spooned under the covers of their makeshift bed, the pelts soft and warm, almost soaking up the cold water covering them. He wrapped his arms around her, shaking with her, trying to warm up with her. Darrah curled up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, lying on her side. Brute simply laid on his back, resting his hands over his stomach, staring at the ceiling of the cave. Grimm was silent for several moments, leaning over a little, putting his left elbow to his left knee, his right hand over his other knee. He stared into the fire, his expression a bit serious, his eyes reflective.
“...All of the expert Heroes are gone. They’re either dead by this point, or they’ve left Albion. It’s just not possible that they could’ve adopted normal lives and started blending in, they’d get noticed in a heartbeat. Thunder went back home. Briar Rose...I’m not sure what’s become of her. Nobody knows where the Hero of Oakvale went. Weaver’s dead. Merlin’s dead. Scythe?...Nobody knows what happened him, either. Considering his obsession with everlasting life, though, I doubt he’d stay in Albion, where somebody could gun him down.” Grimm took in a breath. “Cherry’s dead. Flynn’s gone. Arthur’s dead. Grove’s dead, too. I always suspected that the ones with the best chances for survival were the apprentices and fledglings. Nobody would know what they looked like, they wouldn’t have reputations following them around. On the other hand, though, they might not know what to do in the situation, how to hide and survive...So it became a bit of a gamble. The future of Albion’s Heroes rested on the fledglings, like you four.”
“What about K-Kiln?” Timoteo found himself asking. Grimm responded without hesitation. “Dead, executed in Bowerstone about a month ago. Did you know him?” Timoteo shut his eyes tight for a moment before he let it go, letting out a little sigh against the nape of Bianca’s neck. “Yeah, he...Yeah.” He simply said. “I’m sorry, I know he had a lot of friends.” Grimm offered. “Yeah...” Timoteo merely repeated, feeling Bianca begin to comfortingly hold his hands, over her belly. “I know why you’re here, and who you came with. That fleet that showed up, a day or two ago...You’re here to attack Benedict.” Grimm stood up, approached the apparatus over the fire, and turned the crank a few times, letting the fire roast different sides of his cooking venison. “Benedict is in the League’s pocket, and has been for some time.” Grimm stated, staring at the meat as the skewer rotated.
“I know the League approached him with some kind of offer, but I don’t know the details. If I had to guess, though, I’d say the League wanted the bandits to avoid meddling in their affairs. If they did, the League could just come down hard on the bandits, make themselves look like even bigger heroes in the eyes of the public. If they didn’t, the League would ignore them, maybe slip them some bribes every now and then, like firearms. I can’t think of any other way to explain the League’s complete obsession with Heroes, and utter apathy towards bandits and other menaces. Murders still take place. Assassinations still happen. Robberies happen five times a day. The League claims to be the help Albion needs, but without Heroes, real threats are starting to run rampant. What honest good has the League accomplished?” “Benedict, h-he...He attacked m-my father’s l-land...” Darrah trembled out, rubbing at her legs under her pelt blanket.
Grimm looked at Darrah for a second, then took his seat again. “Hm. I wonder why.” He said, faintly curious. Timoteo and Bianca were the quickest to warm up, as they entered a cycle of heat with one another: she warmed him with her body, which in turn just made it easier for him to warm her up, which subsequently allowed her to warm him up even quicker. He felt at her breasts, trying to warm her chest back up, massaging at her nipples to heat the little nubs back up. She reached behind herself and rubbed at his leg, wiggling her tush a little, rubbing it against his loins. In no time at all, they had both stopped shaking, her chattering jaws calming down. “We suspect Benedict was told to attack Alexander’s estate for revenge, since the League went to him for support before they attacked the Guild, but he offered them none. We had thought that Benedict had just gotten firearms from the League, but...” Timoteo said.
Grimm leaned back in his chair, calmly saying “I doubt Benedict believes himself to be under anyone’s control, but the fact is, the League has him on a short leash. They’re leaving him alone for now, but once the League is done with Heroes, it’ll have to find a new enemy to focus it’s attention on. If it doesn’t, it will have no further reason to exist, and it’ll have to either give up the power it has and dissolve, or face turning the public into an enemy. If Benedict goes too far before that, though, the League might turn on him earlier. He may have attacked this “Alexander” and his property in an attempt to control more land. Grabbing at too much land might concern the League.” “What have you been doing up here? Are you avoiding the League?” Bianca asked, looking over a little. “I haven’t dealt with the League since the Guild. I’ve been here, trying to disrupt Benedict’s operations as best I can. I’ve been whittling his numbers down for months, now.” Grimm answered.
“When we first met...You m-mentioned fighting Benedict. You bought us th-that ch-chainmail, to thank us...” Darrah said. Grimm nodded once. “I remember. You fought a little group of his men, near Bowerstone. I’ve been contending with Benedict and his bandits for some time, now. Most of my Hero career, in fact.” “Why?” Brute asked, his face going curious. Grimm looked in Brute’s direction without turning his head. He blinked and looked back to the fire, his expression emotionless. “I have my reasons. Let’s leave it at that.” His tone was calm, flat, but firm in driving home the point that he truly did not wish to elaborate. “My father’s men...They’re about to attack Benedict...Unless this b-blizzard changed that...” Darrah said. “In all reality, it probably will. Blizzards like these make the mountains almost unpassable. If not for me and my home, the cold would’ve gotten the better of you, eventually.” Grimm stated, smiling a little with amusement.
“Will you help us, in the battle?” Timoteo out and asked, the question having been on his mind since he realized it had been Grimm to help them. Grimm smiled more at the question. “I’ve been considering it ever since I saw your ships come up to the coast, as a matter of fact...”
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Fable : Fall of the Guild