Ultimate Assassin Saga: Woodlands

The Command Assassin slammed hard against the stone of the cavern walls and he bounced off of the wall. He hit hard in the treasure below, sending coins of silver, gold, copper, and jewels scattering across the floor. He slowly rose to his hands and knees, shaking his head to right his equilibrium. He'd held tightly to his Diamond blade and it was still in his hand. He looked up from his hands and knees, looking across to the cavern to where he saw the Snow Dragon opening its mouth wide, taking in a deep breath.

Cursing, he knew the Dragon was about to unleash its breath weapon, and because he'd never done battle with a Snow Dragon before, he didn't know what the breath weapon would be. He tried to decided immediately if he should dodge or try to parry the strike, but that decision was taken from him. The Dragon finally blew out the breath weapon, shooting a stream of thick, razor sharp ice right at him.

Acheron knew that he had no choice at this time. He had to parry the strike or be killed in an instant. He could only hope that parrying the strike would be enough. He raised his sword and watched the attack fly at him at maximum speed, the ice looking like a blade of nature that could slice straight through him with no effort whatsoever.

The Command Assassin gritted his teeth and he let loose a battle cry before he swung his Diamond blade at the ice. He felt the full power of the ice attack as the blade cut through the ice, and as he watched, his blade sliced through the ice, cleaving it in two. The two pieces of ice flew past him, slamming into the wall behind him and he hefted the blade once more. The creature threw back its head and roared in defiance, the sound echoing off of the walls.

Glad that he'd protected himself, the Chaos Demon dashed forward, his blade trailing behind him. The Dragon once more lowered its head, intending to snatch him up and eat him up between its fangs. However, before the Snow Dragon could swallow him, he leaped up onto the creature's head and he ran down the creature's neck towards the middle of its spine. He only had one shot at this, and if he failed, he very well could be killed or at least eaten anyway.

He reached the middle of the Snow Dragon's spine and stopped, raising his sword high overhead. He turned the weapon upside down and held it by the hilt with the blade pointed down before stabbing down into the creature's spine. The Dragon cried out in pain before its legs sank out from underneath it and it fell to the ground on its stomach, unable to move now that he'd severed the right muscle. Grinning, he leaped off of the spine of the Dragon and landed on the cavern floor. Then, he walked around to the creature's head and he stared into the beast's eyes.

"You are a powerful enemy, but you challenged the wrong warrior. However, I will grant you a quick death." Acheron told the Dragon and the creature snorted. Obviously, the creature either didn't believe him or it didn't care. He never went back on his word though, not even to an enemy. He raised his Diamond blade and he swung down, severing the Snow Dragon's head from the rest of its body.

The Dragon's head rolled across the cavern, a string of blood following after it. He sneered at the sight of the creature, and while the creature had put up an honorable fight, the end was still the same. He had won and that was all there was to it.

After a moment of staring at the Dragon as it lay there dead, the Chaos Demon cleaned his blade and sheathed the weapon. Then, he turned around and made his way back down the hallway, but he stopped at the doorway to the hallway, looking back at the creature. He had a feeling that he needed to do something with the Dragon, though he didn't know why he felt that way.

Frowning, the Command Assassin walked back into the cavern and he stood over the corpse of the Snow Dragon. He narrowed his eyes, and for some reason, he drew his weapon once more. Before he could talk himself out of it, he drew his Diamond blade and he he turned it upside down, aiming the blade at the scales of the Snow Dragon. Then, he began to carve the silver and white scale from its body until it popped free, hitting the rocky cavern floor, making a dull thud throughout the cavern.

Sheathing the Diamond blade, Acheron looked down at the white silver scale and he knelt down, picking up the scale. He stared at the scale, seeing his own reflection in the scale. Gripping the scale in his hand, he rose to his feet and he looked around the cavern for something to carry it with. When he looked upon the masses of treasure, he noticed a piece of cloth and he smiled. He walked over to the treasure that the Dragon had accumulated over the years and he pulled out a medium sized burlap sack. He spread open the mouth of it before dropping the scale inside and tying it closed.

With this done, he threw the burlap sack over his shoulder and he walked from the cavern. He wasn't even tempted to take any of the treasure. He had no use for gold, silver, and other material treasures such as that. He knew that anyone else would've been a fool and taken the treasure. However, that wasn't the kind of person he was. He had no need for treasure. He'd taken a scale from the Snow Dragon, and even though he didn't know why he'd taken it, he had a feeling that it would come in handy.

The Chaos Demon moved quickly through the halls of the cavern, and when he reached the entrance of the cavern, he stopped to stare out across the flat tundra. The snow had stopped falling, but the moon was out and the stars twinkled like little fireflies in the night.

With no other task at hand, Acheron began his walk, heading west to the Whispering Jungle.

Acheron walked through the snow, his boots making no noise and they didn't even sink into the snow as he walked. He wasn't too worried about traveling at night because he was a Demon and Demon's were well known for their versatility during the periods over the days. He saw small black marks which had the rocks deeper embedded in the snow, marking the ruins of old, forgotten cities that had fallen and been buried in the past.

He walked towards the rocks and he stepped up onto the rocks, stopping to look across the Tundra. He saw the shadows in the distance and he smiled. The tall outline was the western part of the Wilds, classified as the Whispering Jungle. It was huge and there was no in between between the two lands. Unlike the small strip of land that separated the High Forest to the east and the Tundra in the north, the Whispering Jungle wasn't separated by anything. It merely blended right into one another drastically.

The Chaos Demon hopped off of the rock and landed in the snow once more. There was many things that he wanted to do, but he also knew that he had to be careful. He wasn't just anyone. He was the former Command Assassin of the Demon Empire of Dalkia, and because of that, he would be sought out by Demons for the rest of his life. After all, to take the rank of Command Assassin - a very sought after rank in Dalkia - one had to kill the current Command Assassin and that wasn't in his plans.

His plans for the future were much more extensive and much more dangerous. He intended to draw the peoples of the Wilds together and uniting them so they would have a defense against any invasion that Dalkia would wreak upon them. He had no doubt that Azrieal would send minion after minion after him, and when that didn't work, he would bring war to the Wilds just to get at him. That was the kind of person Azrieal was, but he only hoped that Azrieal was able to remain patient enough for him to unite the Wilds under his banner so they could drive him and the forces of Dalkia back.

Now that he was near to the Whispering Jungle, the Command Assassin could set up camp for the night. He looked around, searching for a place to set his camp and still be somewhat obscured from the general view. He'd already run across a Dragon in the Tundra and he didn't want to run across anything else like that again. However, if he was attacked, he would fight back and kill anything that came after him. He just didn't want to have to and that was the real difference between the two brothers.

Azrieal enjoyed battle even though he saw little of it. He enjoyed doing battle, tearing apart his enemies with his powerful magic and torturing them all to his immense amusement. Acheron on the other hand saw many battles and he took no joy from any of it. He'd seen far too much, had too much blood on his hands, and had many sins that he would rather wipe the slate clean. It was true that he didn't care for the battle, but he also felt little guilt over what he'd done in the past. It was true that he'd ruined the lives of people, destroyed them entirely, but he was only doing what was necessary for his survival at the time, and because of that, he could feel no guilt.

The Chaos Demon set to work, clearing a space to make a fire and even manifesting some wood to stack for a fire. Then, he moved off towards one of the snowy hills and he knelt down, placing his hand on the snowy ground. He closed his eyes and he extended his aura, searching underground for anything that he could sense. He didn't sense anything right away, but then, he felt it and he opened his eyes. There was a snow mole coming right towards him, and in seconds, he would have his meal.

Waiting ten seconds, the Command Assassin dove his hand deep into the snow and he felt his hand close around the throat of the snow mole beneath. He heard the creature squeal in fright and surprise even as he pulled his hand up, pulling the tiny mole free of the snow. He stared at the white furred creature with sightless eyes, and while it wasn't as big as he would like, it would do. It wasn't that he needed much food to feed his energy and keep him going. Even this little morsel would do for now, though he would need more food later on to recharge.

He took a moment to stare into the creature's sightless eyes and he nearly found himself wanting to reach into the creature to search out its emotions. However, he knew better than that. Sighing inwardly, he held out his free hand and a long, wicked sharp dagger appeared in his palm. Then, he twisted his other hand, snapping the neck of the mole. He sat the creature down in the snow and he took a moment to say a prayer for the immortal soul of the snow mole.

Acheron sat the mole on the snow covered ground and he turned the knife right side up. Then, he began the long, arduous process of cleaning the bones, peeling the fur from flesh and then flesh from bone. Finished with this process, he made the knife disappear and he manifested a long stick of which he stuck through the meat of the mole. He pushed to his full height and he walked over to the campfire, sitting down cross legged with the stick held in his hand.

He reached out and placed a hand on the wood. The wood started to glow red and orange before flames began to leap from the wood, creating a roaring fire. Heat came from the flames, banishing the cold of the Tundra, but he took no notice of it as he held the stick of meat out over the flames, cooking for his dinner. While he was cooking, he was lost in deep thoughts of what he was to do, but the most noticeable thing was the weight on his back.

The Chaos Demon frowned and he reached back with one hand, touching the burlap of the sack strapped there. He untied it from his back and he brought it in front of himself, sitting it in the snow. He propped the mole meat in the fire, watching it as he cooked before he untied the burlap sack and he reached inside, pulling out the silver and white scale within. He turned the scale around in his hands, staring at the reflection that was made by the mirror like quality of the scale and he had to admit that it was quite beautiful as well as sturdy.

The Command Assassin gripped the scale tightly, but the item didn't bend or give at all. In fact, it remained in place no matter how hard he pulled on it and tried to stretch it. Even with his strength, the scale simply wouldn't break and he had a feeling that this would come in handy. It was large enough to make a breastplate or gauntlets out of it so he was fairly certain that that was why he'd taken it from the Snow Dragon, but he hadn't done so consciously at the time.

Sighing quite loudly, he slipped the silver and white scale back into the burlap sack. After tying the sack closed, he slung it across his back, securing it there. Then, he sniffed the air, testing the smell of the mole meat and he could tell that it was ready to be eaten. Taking the meat from the fire, he stared at it for a moment, allowing it to cool before he slipped a chunk free, popping it into his mouth. He chewed it methodically, staring out at the Tundra beyond, the beauty of it astounding to him.

The blood red skies of Dalkia had always been an eyesore to him, but the Mages had insisted on doing such a thing to inspire fear from the other nations of the Center Continent. If one could overpower mother nature and turn the blue sky to red, then what hope could mortal beings have at defeating them? At least, that was how the mindset when anyway. He'd never seen a purpose to it in the first place, but he'd never said anything about it either. After all, he didn't care and it wasn't his place to criticize his brother over such a thing. He had his place and it wasn't with the design of the nation.

His place was conquering more lands.

As he ate, he remembered his time as the General in charge of Dalkian expansion. He'd never cared about what he was doing when he was actually doing it. Even after slaughtering an entire people, he never once looked back and thought better of his actions. He'd been doing a job and that was it. It was nothing personal. From what he'd learned in the Abyss, the hell dimension in which he'd been born, it was survival of the fittest. The strong survived and the weak perished. That was a lesson he'd brought with him to the Mortal Plane and there was nothing that he could do to rid himself of that lesson he'd learned.

Even now that he'd betrayed the Empire, he still believed in the survival of the fittest. What he was trying to do however was become the strongest so he would survive and so he could remain free of his brother's influence. He had no doubt that he and Azrieal would come head to head eventually, but he didn't want it to be anytime soon. He simply wasn't ready to go to war with his brother, but not for the reasons that some would've accused him of.

Most people would've thought it was because they were brothers and he couldn't reconcile killing his brother to himself. That was wrong though. He could reconcile and deal with killing his brother because he knew that he would do the same. No, it was his level of strength right now. He simply wasn't strong enough and didn't have the numbers to deal with the full might of the Dalkian Empire.

Acheron had made allies with the Elk Barbarian tribe of the Tundra as well as the Amazons and the Wood Elves of the High Forest. He wasn't quite sure, but he thought that he might have the support of the Wolfian people of the High Forest as well. At thoughts of the Wolfians, he shook his head and nearly snorted. They were basically wolf people who stood on two legs and were able to speak. They were sentient creatures, and even though he'd only met the one - Fenris he'd called himself - he was sure the Wolfians were mostly like the one that he'd met.

Shaking himself from his dark, gloomy thoughts, he realized that he'd finished his food. Stomach sated though hunger not slaked, he knew that he needed his rest for tomorrow. It wasn't going to be an easy day tomorrow of that he was certain, but he wasn't all that worried. Something told him that he was going to be okay and that he would succeed. It wasn't like he had much other choice, but to succeed in his ventures. If he didn't, it would mean his own death as well as the deaths of Trissieal and her son.

Sighing, the Chaos Demon lay down in the snow on his side and crossed his arms over his chest. He rolled onto his back and he rested his chin on his chest. He reached out with his aura for four hundred feet in all directions to protect himself and he knew that even in sleep the aura would remain to warn him of coming intruders that might wish him harm.

Precautions set, Acheron closed his eyes and he fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning found Acheron already awake and his campfire extinguished. He was ready to set out for the day already even though the snow had just started to fall. Most people would sleep in, but he didn't have that luxury. He had many things to worry about and if he slowed down for even a moment he could be caught. He wasn't going to be killed because he had a lazy day. If he was going to die, it was going to be in a battle that he'd subscribed for.

Sighing, the Chaos Demon made sure that all traces of his camp was gone before setting out. The snow flurried around him, falling onto his armor and his skin, marking the black with white. He didn't mind the cold. It was probably because he couldn't feel it. Demons didn't feel the extremes of weather be it burning hot or freezing cold. It was one of the advantages of being a Demon and attempting to do this. The Wilds had several different climates and none were more aware of that than him.

The Command Assassin crested the next hill, stopping only for a moment to reach out with his aura, searching for enemies. After a brief scan, he felt no signs of life and he moved on, his boots crunching the snow as he walked. He watched as the trees of the Whispering Jungle grew closer and closer with each step towards the western peek of the Wilds.

He was within four hundred feet of the Jungle and he could make out the trees, but there was something wrong. They seemed...off somehow. He didn't know exactly what it was about the trees that were different, but it was obvious that they were. The trees rose from the ground just like any other tree, but the trees seemed to twist off to the side, tangling with the tree next to it at the branches, interlocking with one another like symbioses trying to survive.

Acheron walked closer to the trees, and much to his surprise, he could sense power coming from the trees themselves. He stopped at the edge of the Whispering Jungle and he narrowed his eyes on the tree in front of him, taking note of the power of the tree. There was something embedded in the tree that he couldn't quite make out, and for some reason, he had a feeling that it was old magic. There was a glowing silver rune in the tree, running up the length of the trunk and most likely stopped at the top of the tree, but as he looked at the trees on either side of the one he was looking at, he noticed that this wasn't the only tree marked like that.

It was something that he'd never seen before. Even the rune was something that he didn't recognize. He didn't know what it meant and that worried him beyond all else. He'd seen much over the years, learned many languages of the Mortal Plane, but this wasn't one that he'd come across over the years. He could sense the power of the runes and the old magic within, but he feared what would happen if he tried to dispel the trees of the Jungle.

He turned his gaze to the rest of the Jungle, noting the heavy bushes thick with berries, but they were probably poisonous for all he knew. There were vines as thick as a Giant's bicep running from tree to tree, interconnecting them even more. If anyone lived among the treetops, the vines could easily be used as a way to get from one tree to tree. However, he didn't think anyone lived among the trees. After all, the trees were gnarled and bent, almost as if they'd been contaminated by some force that was alien to this Plane of existence.