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From hot or cold, wet or dry,
Summer’s here, its time to fly.
Children dance, laugh and play,
None deny this glorious day.
Birds up high, circling above
Floating on clouds like angel doves.
Winter sleep as fall shall wait.
Summer’s here, the cycle of fate.

Mountain bare, tall and proud,
Summer’s here, against the shroud.
Luminous night, charitable white,
Stars up high that shine out bright.
Yet, once more, we say, farewell,
Summer’s here return the veil.
Fall come close as winter shall yearn,
Summer’s here, in one great burn.

SUMMER’S HERE! Its last of turn.
To the joyous days and calmful nights. To the endless days that one day it might return. We feel its heat of the golden rays and never again shall we experience upon a yearly date.
Outskirt of the Hamlet

The night was interrupted by a terrible storm. A harsh blizzard of wind and ice engulfed the land, halting everyone to seek shelter from nature's motherly wrath. The hamlet didn't fare much worse like the rest and received the same treatment.

The men from the hamlet took refuge in cover to bide their time for the weather to stop. Yet not everyone didn't make it in time to return to the hamlet.

Ernest and Grimwald were on their daily routine patrol when the storm arrived all of a sudden. Unable to see far ahead from the thick of the storm, the two were forced to take refuge at a nearby cave. Fortunately, the cavern had scatter pieces of vegetation to make campfire.

"Blasted weather! How did it come to this." Grimwald the thief sat down on the ground, close to the makeshift campfire, rubbing his arms together.

"At least we found this place before the winter turned for worse." Ernest the Honest stated optimistically.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Can't believe this is happening to us." Grimwald stretched out his hand towards the fire. "Our officers sure do love us getting tortured. Wonder what they are going to say when we get back I wonder? Probably there is some lesson to all of this, wouldn't you say?"

Ernest remained silent for awhile, poking the embers with a stick. He watched the flame got bigger enough to provide enough warmth for the night. "I'm more worried for the Commandant when he learned that we are missing."

"Enough evidence to give us the harsh treatment. Wonderful."

The two sat quietly by the fire in the long duration of the night, hoping that the storm would come to pass. After a couple of hours being cooped inside the cave, it was clear to Ernest that his friend took a quick snooze, snoring obnoxiously loud that might give away their position.

Ernest pondered to how his friend could manage to sleep in a time like this, ignoring the possibilities that they might be in some sort of danger. The outskirts around the hamlet hadn't been fully explored due to the conditions of the weather. Any attempt to further expand was dashed away from the snow, and inefficient number of troops.

After Partishan Callus lead the expedition, the hamlet was cut downhalf of a garrison force, too few to make a respectable defense. Ernest questioned personally of the decision made by Lady Valice. Even if the expedition manage to reclaim most of the equipment from the forsaken forest, they would not find anything worth valuable to salvage, and that a chance of survivors that were left behind was minuscule when buried under a ton of snow.

Ernest honestly believed that the expedition was a waste of time and effort, but that wasn't his choice at the matter. He was a soldier and nothing more. He stopped there when Grimwald's snore became much louder after each inhale.

Ernest sighed exhaustively. "One of these days, it is you that's be on watch duty."


After much extent of time, the blizzard that has been battering the land has finally come to pass, revealing above the nightly sky a gentle stream of gems, twinkling and shining out bright from the distant. The fire crackled low as the light began to fade. It wouldn't be long before the cave where Grimwald and Ernest reside be engulf in a complete and utter darkness.

The first person to woke from his sleep was Grimwald, feeling the bite of the cold that was coursing through vein like daggers.. He was rudely interrupted from a good dream, a terrific dream about riches and fame and loot. He gave out a big yawn, rubbed his eyes and get up on to his feet.

Grimwald poked a stick against the fire, hoping that the fire would continue from the rest of the night. Unfortunately, all of his attempt was for naught as the fire died out completely. The only light source for him to see anything was the stars from above.

"Guess it's time for me to get the firewood." Grimwald grimaced bitterly. He hated the job, gathering the materials through the insidious and palpable terrain that was snow. Usually in some case, he would rely Ernest to do the job for him, but it seemed that wasn't case.

Grimwald found his friend leaning back against the wall, sleeping soundly with a musket close to his chest. He couldn't but to shake his head, amused of his worried nature.

"Overprotective and anxious. As always."

As the musketeer gathered his gear, Grimwald exited from the cave and head out into the night to gather more firewoodwood. He never like the weather, the cold and the ice, but it was important to accomplish this task. Otherwise, he wouldn't hear the end from Ernest, spouting nonsense about duty and responsibility.

While on the steady course through the trail, Grimwald absentmindedly thought about the hamlet and the officers that were waiting them for return. They could return to base, considering that blizzard storm had come to pass. Although Grimwald wouldn't mind waking up Ernest just to see his colorful personality, he frankly wasn't going to do that. He had no intention to return for a moment.

Grimwald would not mind spend quietly without the constant babble and distraction and annoyance from his imperial officers. He imagined that a long list of punishment that await for them. The grim thought of latrine duty was far worse from death.

The musketeer, the former thief, reached at the edge of the forest, finding a suitable enough of firewood that would last a day or two. He didn't waste time on his task, wanting to finish as soon possible. While the former thief was about in the middle of his progress, something caught his attention.

Not far from where the former thief was positioned, a bright, orange light flickered in the forest.

Grimwald suspected it wasn't the rescue party from the hamlet nor anyone at that matter. He was indeed curious to investigate what lied over there, but a right mind told him otherwise that it was a foolish idea. Instead to walk straight into the light, he instead turned the other way around.

The former thief had no desire to risk his life for a mere curiosity. He came to a conclusion that the people from the orange light were the locals of the land. He cannot say however if they were friend or foe.

While the former thief soldier was about to head back to Ernest, Grimwald felt something behind the shadow. He turned his head around to hear a rustle from the overgrown vegetation. He quickly dropped the firewood and raised his musket. He slowly backed away from the vegetation.

Grimwald wanted no trouble yet it seemed trouble had found him. He was about to get away safely when the sound of a string being pulled stop in his advance.

"Stay where you are, stranger, unless you want this dart landed straight to your skull."

Grimwald softly cursed himself, caught surprise by the well-hidden archer. He made an attempt to turn his head to get the idea on who the person was, but the archer caught up to his antic and shot an arrow between his legs.

"Do not turn, stranger. I warn you. Do not speak and stay still!"

The former thief gladly obeyed and remained still as a statue. Although, he was unable to get a good look at the character, the voice from the archer describe to be female, rich and firm in her tone.

"Drop your weapon and kick towards to the bushes."

He followed her command, lowering the musket down and kicking it toward to the bushes.

The overgrown rustled wildly and before long a shadow emerge from cover.

Grimwald was unable to take a good look at the mysterious individual, whose identify covered well beneath the shade of the forest.

The shadow gradually picked up the musket, inspecting the craftsmanship with its careful, golden eyes.

"Yes, this seems efficient enough. Different than most of this today's invention. I wonder how far it would go." Its voice echoed throughout the trees, old and refined.

Grimwald quickly judged the mysterious shadow to be fixated over his musket. He could describe the voice of the shadow to be of a male character.

"Stranger, tell me. How far can this gun reach?"

Grimwald had little to no choice but answer to his question. "At least about three hundred yards."

Whatever the shadow reacted, he didn't show it to him. "How long does it take to reload."

"That depends on the craft of the gun. An ordinary soldier could reload under a minute. For me? Minute and a half."

"Hmm, thought the reload would take longer. It seemed so easy for you."

Grimwald made a scoff. "Let me tell you, it takes but a routine to get used to it."

"For that we have come in an agreement." The male shadow focused his eyes on the archer, gesturing his fingers to stop what she was doing. "We have come what we came for. Time to plan for the second phase."

"As you wish." The female archer stepped away from Grimwald and quickly vanished into the darkness.

Grimwald turned his head around to find the archer gone. "So...what is going to happen to me?"

The male shadow chuckled. "You could leave, if you want. Although I must thank you for this information. I suspect that you would resist."

"With an arrow behind my head, I guess you're welcome."

With that said, the shadow vanished without a trace and Grimwald was left all alone in the forest. He remained still for a couple of minute before he gathered his things and returned back to the cave.

With the fireplace lit once more, Grimwald didn't spend the remainder of his time on the warm fire, but instead spend outside on the cold, waiting, guarding for his friend in case the two might return to finish the job.

Grimwald despised the weather, the snow and the ice. In the end, he gotten used to the condition and that the cold never bothered him anyway.


At the break of dawn, Grimwald remained outside of the cave, tireless and unbroken since the incident from the forest. He would never forget his encounter, the humiliation that dwell in his heart. If he ever meet them again he would not hesitate to pull the trigger and kill them both.

Ernest yawned out loudly, rising up from his slumber. He appeared out from the cave with a terrible pain behind his back. "Never again would I sleep like that again. Grimwald? You're up early? What's the occasion?"

Grimwald thought it would be easy to tell him about his encounters at the forest, but that might prove otherwise disastrous on his part.

"Can I not wake up early for once?" The former thief made a smug face. "Also I would like to see if I could manage. You never know when the officers tell you to wake up at the last second."

"Ah, that be true. The Partishan wanted us to do double time."

The two made a gradual return to the hamlet, neither one of them spoke in the quiet trail.

"So what's the deal with you." Ernest asked suspiciously. "You've been acting like this since morning. Did something happen to you while I was asleep."

Grimwald quickly waved dismissively to his statement. "The only thing I'm tensed up is you sleeping throughout the night while I have to watch your butt of. I just want to sleep and be done with it."

"Guess that make sense." Ernest looked back at the cave from the distant. "I am quite surprise that we haven't encounter any of the locals yet. Strange, isn't it?"

"Yeah, quite strange indeed." Grimwald face hardened and went further ahead of him. He had enough remembering the two individuals from last night. The voice of Ernest ringed from behind, but he didn't heed of his friend. There was nothing to discuss either than to go home, eat a hearty meal and sleep throughout the rest of the day.

The two made safely back to the hamlet without any problem. They entered through the front gate where a crowd of soldiers gathered at the center. Curious to the event that was at hand, they approach to the nearest individual.

"Oh, Grimwald. Ernest. Glad that you made it back." One of the musketeers declared, sizing up for a smile. "We thought that you guys were lost or something. Guess Yvir owes me a couple of ration after this."

"You're all heart, Feris." Grimwald stated, raising his feet up to see the commotion. "What in the Savior is going on? Why aren't you guarding at the gate?"

Feris widened his eyes, almost shock even. "You guys haven't heard?"

"Hear about what, exactly?" Ernest added.

"Guess you haven't heard at all." Feris smiled widely. "The hamlet made contact with a group of locals."

Ernest raised an eyebrow. "No snite? Is that true?"

Feris nodded. "I snite you not. They just came at the front entrance, speaking a tongue that none of us could understand. Fortunately one of the Partishans are handling the situation as we speak."

Grimwald was quite suspicious of the locals, but remained silent for the moment.

"Who is the Partishan that is dealing with the local?" Ernest pondered.

Feris smile quickly faded from his face, replaced with a painful reaction. "None other than Partishan Simr Lars."

The two scouts swore simultaneously.

"Yeah, you got that right." Feris sighed, hearing already the voice of Partishan Simr Lars interacting with the locals. "What a damnable bastard. I wouldn't be the locals at the moment. Hope they are doing alright?"

"Well it's none of our business." Grimwald turned his around to the barracks, eyeing for a good night rest. "Tell me once this business is concluded. I'll see you around you guys."

Grimwald was about to take leave his before Feris added that would shock the both of them. "Guess that would suspect when they aren't humans at all."

The two froze at the spot.

"Say what now?" Ernest exclaimed.

The smile from Feris face returned, wider than ever before. "You heard me right. They're not even human at all. They're some overside rabbits walking on two thinly legs. For now, there are two of them at the moment. One of them looks like some kind of scholar and the other an archer."

Grimwald turned his head around towards the musketeer, eyes widened with shock. "An archer? Are you sure?"

Feris quickly nodded. "Y-yeah. That's right. Don't know for reason why you shout like...hey wait!"

Grimwald went into the crowd, shoving them aside towards the center.

Ernest was alarmed by the sudden reaction and followed him from behind.

"Grimwald, wait!" Ernest said, clasping on his friend's shoulder. "What in the world are you doing? This isn't like you."

Grimwald didn't respond to his plea. He shoved the hand from Ernest away and continued onward through the crowd, leaving his friend behind among the mass of musketmen. When the scout was at considerable range, he could faintly hear the distinctive voice from Partishan Lars.

"<And who do you think are, telling us what to do?>"

Grimwald recognize that voice. It was the archer.

"<Rabbit, I am Simr Lars. Partishan and Guardian of the Empire. I have every right and authority to say otherwise. You have come here, barge through the front gate like you are some higher up and demanding me to let you speak with our leader? If you think you have come here so easily then you are sadly mistaken.>"

Grimwald could feel the rage that was building around the Partishan.

"<My good man, please excuse my friend here. I'm afraid that she hasn't quite used to the customs of your kind yet. Our only purpose for this venture is a peaceful one and we only desire to meet the leader of this operation.>"

Grimwald recognized the voice right away to be the male shadow, speaking in a suave tone to appease the Partishan.

"<I do not think that you understand, old one.>" Partishan Lars quickly make a statement. "<None of you have the right to meet the leader and none of you have the right to speak such due. You've come to parlay with us, to strike some sort of deal, right? Tell me, what purpose have you come here, I wonder?>"

Grimwald had finally made his way through the center to spot the Partishan and the two locals. He was quite shock with unbelief to find two large rabbits at the center, dressed in the colors of black and yellow and white.

The female archer was easily recognizable in her lightweight adventure garment and her wooden bow. She had a shade of brownish fur with a fierce determine look upon her face, gripping the quiver of arrows from the right side of her waist.

The other rabbit, the male shadow from the forest, look more like a scholar than a mere warrior, wearing a heavy set of robes and garments. He had a shade of blackish fur with a calm look upon his face.

While amazed by this turn of event, Grimwald pondered as to the reason for his ability to understand the rabbits while others were unable at all. Why Grimwald and the Partishan were the only the people who could communicate with them?

The argument in the center quickly intensified when the Partishan grabbed the neck from the scholar.

"<I don't appreciate with the way you talk, old hare. If I were you, I consider you choose your words wisely.>"

"<Back off, freak!>" The archer raised her bow with a dart in aim for the Partishan's head. "<You better let him go or->"

"<Or what, little fluffball? What would happen if you did, I wonder?>"

Grimwald looked at the musketeers pulling their arms against the archer.

"<Little archer, you have no leverage against me nor the courage to do it?>" Partishan Simr Lars gloated. "<If you plan to go through with it then you'd better do it fast. These boys would have every right to put you and your friend down to the ground. If you play nice then maybe I can offer some form of arrangement with the leader of the hamlet.>"

The rabbit archer look annoyed, eyes glared viciously at the person that was in front of her. She saw her companion struggling to breathe from the Partishan's grasp. She had no other choice but to comply with the Partishan.

The Partishan could see the rabbit was getting the idea. He was about to be triumphant when something unexpected happen.

"<I am sorry, Lars but I cannot let you do that.>"

All eyes were focused upon one individual that stood out in the center. They couldn't believe there eyes when the former, young thief, Grimwald, spoke in the tongue of the beast.
Remnant of Iron, Alternate, Chapter 5 - The Rabbit
To a terrible storm, snow and ice ravaged across the hamlet, forcing two scouts lost in their way.
The road fare better on the warm light of the sun. Far from the cold winters of death, the lonely Crimsonier, Aviel Amion, had been on a long journey, liberated and unchallenged with his new found freedom. He could get use to the lifestyle without the Masters to tie him down, following his own path rather to follow others.

Days ever since Amion slew a group of vile, bestial beasts of blackguards from the camp, he cannot help but wonder of the brown rodent, rescued and wounded and left alone to its fate. He slightly regretted over the decision, but whatever choices that were made it didn’t matter in the end. The only choice was that he had to live with it, moving forward among the many bad decisions from the past.

Although the brown rodent could have survive the injuries, Amion wasn’t well sure to be the case.

Amion looted the campsite with much food and supplies that would last him for a week. Along with a sum of wealth and jewelry, he pilfered a fine set armor with a full wolfen helmet to hide his identity.

Amion came with a realization that the Order was gone, completely destroyed by his enemies. Without proper tools or procedure to perform a new Order from scratch, the chance for success was close to zero, minimum at best. Still however, if such a chance was possible, to restart and renew the Order, he wanted no part of it. He cannot support a group that was built by lies and deceit to send thousands of devoted disciples to slaughter.

By one of the many rights of defiance, Amion surrendered his red garments and burned it to ash. He would disguise himself as a mere common mercenary wolf, hiding among the populace without the fear or suspicion of his appearance. Yet in order to mingle with the crowd, he must come to understand of the world and their inhabitants.

Throughout the miles across the land, Amion first observed a unified nation with a wide array of beasts. From every shape and size, peasants, nobles and merchants displayed a grand degree of humanlike qualities, practicing an outdated system that span in the old age. Among the many animal folk, there were some species that held the most influence.

Amion came to cross the colors of the banner, four great clans that made the nation whole. From the four, there was the Rabbit, the Bear, the Wolf and the Rat. Other species of the less remain unimportant in the mix.

The banner of the Rabbit had a distinct yellow with two of its kin grasp upon the flag. Suggesting otherwise by the traits of an animal, Amion would have to guess the rabbits to be mere diggers, builders of the stone and likely seekers to expand their territory underneath the soil.

The banner of the Bear had a pleasant green with a single creature, holding a flowery staff and two strange symbols from each side. The first on the right shaped like a tree while the other left was the sun. Amion pondered by the definition of the banner, but he could suspect that the bears held much care for nature.

The banner of the Wolf had a daunting blue with a ferocious beast in the center. There was nothing else to say about the wolves. Amion had seen countless lords, countless armies and countless worthless fools in his homeland, adopting the same animal as a symbol of power. In truth, he was quite tired of men cast wolves as there banner, unoriginal and pathetic. He would suspect the actual wolves in the land to be different, strong and ruthless with efficient drive.

The last banner of the Great Four was a Rat, vibrant red as the wine, with its kin in the middle, balancing on a round object, holding a thorn-flower with its paw while the other a sword with its tail. Amion felt some sort of deja vu the longer he stare at the banner. The description of the banner was definite. They were a group of deceptive, untrustworthy party, thieves and cutthroats with flowery words to gain from others. The compatibility between the Crimsoniers and the Rats was most eerily creepy.

While Amion understood on the who, the where and the what to expect in the kingdom, the question of the matter was the how. He met a hasty raccoon the other day, running on the road with a pouch full of letters. When the creature spoke, it had a sharp, distinct language that he could neither understand or give response to.

Amion remained absolutely silent, unbothered to make a reaction before the hasty raccoon scurried far along the road. He would have guess the raccoon desire for some direction, but how was he suppose to do that when he doesn’t know a single word of the land.

An average person might take months, even years to fully understand the native tongue. Fortunately for him, a Crimsonier would accomplish the task in less than a month.

One of the many benefits of a Crimsonier was their innate talent to translate other languages at an impeccable rate. Credited by the powers of the stone called the Heart, they became whisperers of a hundred worlds and grand polyglots to the Scarlet Order. While they served with distinction as emissaries and diplomats, they served as undercover agents, spies and saboteurs, to undermine rivals and enemies. Masters of the Flame as well as Masters of Subterfuge.

It was the entire week that Amion spend his time on the land, listening and hearing several conversations to understand their language, incorporating the tongue onto his own. He started with small words, common repetitive phrases from the animal folk that he imitated. Soon those words turned to sentences, turned to paragraphs until to speeches.

Amion’s confidence grew and grew before he could make a small conversation with some of the animal folk. At the end of the week, along with his supplies, he almost perfected their language, their Armellian tongue. With clarity, he was bold and ready to make his next step. He eyed at a nearby village, a town called Blueberry just at the outskirt in the distant.

There were several centers of civilization along in his trip, but he mostly avoided them due to his inefficient practice of the language.

With surety, Amion marched straight for the town to try and test his new language.


Just at the front gate there was a tremendous roar from the town, bustled with life and wonder. From colorful sounds to every street, the town was overflow with energy, abundant enough for every animal, new or old, far or near, to come seek on their random, important agenda.

Amion’s perfect disguise among the animals worked like a charm. Outfitted as a common mercenary, he manage to pass through the front gate without rousing suspicion. He safely made his way where it was least crowded to stumble upon a tavern. There was a sign dangling outside of the building that had the name of the tavern. He didn’t bother reading the sign.

Although Amion was able to speak to the animals without a problem, his difficulty on reading such as signs or letters was a grain of salt. He wasn’t the most adaptable reader than the rest of the Crimsoniers, with them being able to read and write and speak at an inhumane feat. Still, the disadvantage didn’t bother him at all and went inside of the tavern.

The tavern inside wasn’t grand or even special altogether. The place was decent, clean but kinda average like any taverns with customers at the corner, drinking, laughing and brooding in their seat. Amion felt suspicious glares from some of the animals. He paid little to no mind of them.

“Welcome to the Lucky Foot, stranger?” A random voice called out to him.

Amion turned his focus to meet the owner of the establishment. Behind the bar was a brown rodent, a tavern keeper, wearing a simple dress of gold with hair tied behind her back.

The rodent lady made a pleasant smile. “Can I get you anything, darling?”

“Not at the moment.” Amion replied. “Although I do need some information regarding some supplies for the journey.”

“A journey, you say? My, my, you must be the busy type of sort. Where are you heading off to?”

“Just wherever the path take lead me.”

“So you’re a wanderer then? You must have some good stories in your trip.”

Amion made a light chuckle “Nothing but the ordinary, my dear, but if I did I’ll tell you about it.”

The rodent lady smiled in return. “I cannot wait to hear it. If you are looking for some supplies there is a nice place just a couple of blocks ahead. They sell at a fair discount. Also check out on a store from the hill. I hear the potion sell a mean kind of goods.”

Amion appreciated of the advice. “You are but too kind.”

The rodent lady shrugged playfully. “Meh, just helping out anyone who needed the assistance. Us adventurers needed to stick out together, you know.”

“Ah, an adventurer. Cannot wait to hear yours.”

“Like you said…nothing but the ordinary. Now get out of here, you.” The rodent lady gestured, shooing him away. “I’ve customers to attend to. You’re wasting time and money.”

Amion slightly bowed and exited the tavern on good terms. He then later heeded the advice of the tavern keeper to head straight for the supplier. The information was gold. The supplier, a merchant badger, had just what he needed at a considerable and fair price. He bought the supplies with gold that he looted from the blackguard camp.

With his purpose fulfilled, Amion headed toward to the hill that was suggested by the pig-tailed rodent lady. He was indeed curious to what the Potion Seller had to offer and wasted no time on his next destination.


The shop on the hill was far from remote of the town with little to no contact. At first, Amion thought the trip to be a joke and that the information was outright false, but as he reach to the top of the hill his suspicion cease to exist.
There were a couple of customers just outside of the shop, returning back to the town with a bag of several vials. Amion couldn’t deny that the customers were satisfied in their transaction.

Amion entered the shop to find the shop to be full of bottles and vials, unique, but strange in its own right. From different types of color up to shape and size, the shop had a remarkable collection. He had no idea what was written on the label though.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Amion heard a small voice and craned his head down to find an adorable deer, a beastie, wearing green clothes with a red flower behind its ear. He had to admit that he did not suspect a small creature to be the owner of the shop.

“Are you by chance the owner of the shop?” Amion asked, kneeling down to meet eye contact.

The small deer smiled and nodded. “The one and only. Langsat is my name and don’t wear it out. How can I help you today, sir…?”

“Amion, little one. I’ve been told that this is where I could buy your strongest potion. Is that true?”

“Indeed, good sir, indeed you are correct!” Langsat the deer winked. “We had the best of the best among the rest. Nothing could beat us in our game.”

Amion smiled and stood up on his feet to check on one of the bottle. “I am glad to hear that. Potion Seller, I am going on a journey and I want your strongest potion.”

Langsat mood shifted unexpectedly from being kind and cheerful to being serious and observant. She observed at the person in front of her, wearing plated armor behind a wolfen mask. “Hmm, my potions are too strong for you, traveler.”

Amion paused and turned at her with an arch eyebrow. “Potion Seller, I tell you I am going on a journey,and I want only your strongest potions.”

Langsat sadly sighed and shook her head, jumping at an empty to meet eye contact. “You can’t handle my potions. They’re too strong for you.”

Amion couldn’t help but to chuckle in silent. He knew that shop owner was playing a joke. “Potion Seller, listen to me; I want only your strongest potion. Isn’t it more than I ask for?”

“My potions would kill you, sir Amion. You cannot handle my potions.” Langsat said with a serious look on her face.

Amion was beginning to doubt that the shop owner wasn’t kidding at all. “Alright, enough of these games, Potion Seller. I’m going on a journey, far than I could ever known. I just want to know of your strongest potion.”

“My strongest potions would kill you, traveler.” Langsat boldly declared, quick upon her decision. “You can’t handle my strongest potions. You’d better go to a seller that sells weaker potions!”

Amion cannot believe what he was hearing. Earlier, the deer was about to offer the best deal at hand only to be rebuffed by her refusal. “Potion Seller! I’m minding you right now; I’m going to a far away place and I need your strongest potions!”

“You don’t know what you ask, traveler!” Langsat stomped her hoof on the table. “My strongest potions will kill a dragon let alone a man. You need a seller that sells weaker potions, because my potions are too strong!”

Amion wondered what was inside of the potions. “Potion Seller, I’m telling you this right now that I need your strongest potions! I’m going into a dangerous peril that I may or not come back. I need your strongest potions!”

“You can’t handle my potion strongest potions!” Langsat raised her voice, glaring at him with angry expression. “No one can! My strongest potions are fit for a God let alone a man.”

Amion was at a bind, lost and confused of the owner’s peculiar attempt. He then decided to try a different tactic. “Potion Seller, please tell me, what must I do to get your potions? Why won’t you trust me with your strongest potions, Potion Seller? I have need of them if I am to be successful on the long roads ahead!”

“And I can’t give you my strongest potions because my strongest potions are only for the strongest beings and you are the weakest.”

That was the final straw for Amion. Back from his mind, he could just kill the deer and take whatever he want just like the one back at the blackguard camp. During the war, the Order would execute anyone who show disobedience, making an example to anyone that show defiance or rebellion.

Amion was this very close on killing the deer at the spot, but stayed his hand and chose a different route. “Guess that’s it then, Potion Seller. I’ll go elsewhere. I’ll go elsewhere for my potions.”

Langsat jumped out from the table and pushed the customer’s leg toward the exit. “T-that’s what you’d better do.”

Amion couldn’t help but smile at the little deer. No matter how much he wanted to kill her, he couldn’t do it against such an adorable face like that. He quickly turned to the exit. “I’ll go elsewhere for my potions and I won’t come back.”

Langsat smiled triumphantly. “Good. You’re not welcome here! My potions are only for the strongest and you’re clearly are not of the strongest…you’re clearly the weakest!”

“You’ve had your say, Potion Seller, but I shall have mine.” Amion said without looking at the deer. “You are a rascal with no respect for customers. No respect for anything…except your potions!”

Langsat glared as the man left the shop. “Why respect customers? When my potions can do anything that you can…”

The potion shop was but a fare distant dot as Amion descended towards to the town. He had nothing to say after that. It was a strange and bizarre experience that would keep in his mind for a week.


Langsat the mouse deer was at the entrance of the shop, watching of the man called Amion vanish from the distant. She felt a race of adrenaline and stumbled into the ground. She could hear her heart pound madly after her cheap performance.

When the deer manage to control of her composure, she went back inside and raised her voice. “You can come out now. The stranger is gone.”

For a moment there was only silence before a door from the opposite end creaked open. Out from the door was a brown rodent, dressed in a stylish red and white attire made out of the finest silk.

Langsat breathed in and out. “You are right. He’s definitely an odd one. He didn’t even read the labels from the bottle. Either the wolf couldn’t read or not bright at all. I mean, whoever heard of a wolf to come at a shop to buy vials of poison?”

The noble rodent mischievously smiled. “And who did you say it was a wolf to begin with?”

Langsat arched an eyebrow. “What are you saying? You think he’s someone under disguise?”

“Another good theory, but tell me this? Have you notice that this person doesn’t have a tail?”

Langsat paused for a moment, but before long she came to a startling conclusion. “Oh. Oh my goodness.”

“I believe I have found my guy.” The noble rodent tossed a bag of gold and took a bottle from the shelf. “You don’t mind if I take this, would you?”

Langsat didn’t oppose, still shock over it all.

The noble rodent thanked the potion seller and left without a word. It had taken a great deal of time and coin to find the stranger, searching him for days across the land. But finally, at last, its effort was rewarded.

The rodent had found the one person that it was looking for, and it was high time for a visit.
Remnant of Iron, Alternate, Chapter 4 - The Rat
Evasive, deceptive and opportunistic; righteous trait for a rogue. A survivor, wandering aimlessly without end, washing to a new face and role. He faced into the town with the use of the ability, granting him power to speak of other animals. Armellian, was it? A strange language for a strange land.

Langsat is created by Morgan Mudway
Potion Seller is created by Justin Kuritzkes
The bluegrays marched tirelessly through the frozen waste, abandoning their fallen comrades at the forest. They didn’t have the time to give the dead a proper burial as the Partishan worked tirelessly to organize what remain of the unit.

The cold was merciless beyond any measure as most of them were ill-equipped to face such weather. Few had soon suffered from the cold while the rest kept struggling on in their perilous journey, unsure that they would follow. Remained, however, loyal to their mistress, they continued on through the harsh, violent winds and terrible snow that fell heavily over their shoulders.

It wasn’t that moment, after a long two day march through torture and ordeal that they arrived to the gentle greens of nature. The mistress had never seen the men got excited over the warm rays of the sun.

“The trouble seems to pass us.” Oraas commented, placing his spear aside at a tree. His eyes spot a stream nearby as he filled up his canteen and offered to the mistress. “You know what this means, do you?”

The mistress understand completely as she accepted Oraas’s offer, taking a quick gulp. There was the possibility that they will encounter people along the way and she doesn’t know if they were friendly or not. The scouts that they reported earlier had proven to be unreliable for they were unable to identify the inhabitants.

“The village is not too far away from here. Just over the edge of the hill. How do you want to proceed? We may approach them in numbers to show that we are not to be trifled upon?”

The mistress tossed back his canteen which Oraas barely manage to catch it. She turned her eyes at the troops, inspecting at their condition. “I’m afraid that the men are exhausted as it is and would be unwise to send a whole unit of tired troopers at their front door.

“No, I believe that a subtle approach would do just alright. We wouldn’t want to cause mass panic.”

“Understand, Milady. I’ll prepare myself for the event.”

“No, you would do no such thing for I shall go meet the villagers.”

“Are you sure that it is sound, Milady?” Orass asked, worryingly for her safety “What if they proved hostile? At least let me accompany you when the trouble comes?”

The mistress was flattered at his suggestion, but she graciously refused. “I need you here when trouble arises. Only you have the charisma to lead the men while I am gone.”

“While I understand that you wanted to do this, Milady, I will not allow this. As a sworn protector I cannot let you go along without some attendance. At least take some of my men with you.”

“The Partishan have always been my greatest shield, Oraas, but I do not need a shield, I need a face, one who is but a mere simple folk and not someone that can put fear on them. For this, I would need a volunteer from the bluegrays. Would two be enough?.”

“Indeed, Milady. It is enough, but I’ll be the one who will pick the candidates. No question ask.”

“Fair enough,” The mistress slightly grinned. “Hope you find a worthy suitable candidate.”


At the outskirt of the village, the mistress traveled through the dirt, open road, followed by two bluegrays behind of her.

Laven was used to be a farmer, tending to the vegetables from day and night. He could trace his family lineage all the way back to the beginning of the Empire, and while they weren’t rich or renown, he had a simple life and was contend to what he got. Yet everything seemed a distant memory when the Scarlet Order destroyed what’s left of their home.

Laven didn’t suspect that he would live to see the day when the Royal army siege the last stronghold of the Order. He didn’t suspect that he would act as a bodyguard for the mistress as well. There was a sense of pride of being chosen for the task. It meant a great deal for a Partishan to place his trust on a simple farmer.

“Think we will find anything to eat over the village?”

Laven glanced at Wull. “Probably. I’m just worried that our coin would not be decent enough to pay them.”

“Oh, that is nonsense, and you know it. Gold is gold,” Wull pulled out a shiny coin. “And with every coin there is bound for suckers who want to claim it.”

“Not everyone is here for the gold.” Levan grunted, rolling his eyes. “If they would be lucky, maybe they’ll be generous enough to...”

The mistress raises her hand, silencing the two in an instant. They were stopped in their track when she caught something from the distant. The two bluegrays soon took notice as they saw an unknown figure, closing upon them.

At a medium distant, they couldn’t identify the person, feeling the sunlight over their eyes. The bluegrays remained cautious, readying their musket, but, as they got a good look at the person, they couldn’t help themselves but to pause of what they saw.

“Is that a rabbit...walking on two feet?”


Up from the hill was a young, white rabbit with a black spot on her right eye, wearing a bright, yellow dress and a red ribbon attach to her ears. Her eyes flashed like diamonds, exuberant in a burst of energy as she was unable to contain the excitement over the news.

When the little rabbit reached to the top, ruining her dress in the process, an old, decrepit house came to view. The house was in a sorry state need of repair, overgrown vines crept over the wall and unusable junk was all over the front yard. It was a complete and utter mess, but she didn’t care at all; it was her home.

“Grandpa, are you there?” The rabbit shouted, with her paws cupped around her mouth. “Wake up, you sleepy head. Wake up!” She kept on with her attempt, with each volume louder than the second. By her effort, the house shook violently in reaction.

A window popped open to appear a brownish hare, with large ears and a full of attitude. “Land sake, Lili, do you know what time it is!” The hare replied, his voice groggy and faint from his sleep.

Lili smiled, paws pointing back at the village. “Grandpa, you need to come and see this.” She said, her eyes still flashed like diamonds. “We’ve got new strangers in the village. I think you’ll like them.”

The hare scoffed, rubbing his eyes with his paw. “Oh, Lili, we’ve done this for a hundred times. How many are you going to let my old bones break over some strangers? We got bears, cats, beavers and rarely wolves, but there all the same that we meet along the way. So what could you possibly say this be any different?”

The smile on Lili’s face never fade, her eyes continued to shine like diamonds. “But they’re not, Grandpa. This time it’s different.”

“Oh? And why you say that?”

“Cause I already met them. Here, look.” Lili checked in her pocket, pulling out a gold coin. “One of them...I think it was guy...gave me this. The design is odd and I have never seen these signs before. Oh, Grandpa, won’t you come down and see for yourself?”

The old hare harrumphed, remaining skeptical by her claim as he went back from the window. Inside the house, there was a sound, that Lili liked to hear: the grumble, tempered nature of her grandpa, trying to pass through his wonderful contraption, only to be blocked by the crowded things that he built during the back when times.

Lili couldn’t help but to laugh a little. “Never gets old.” She happily sighed.

After a brief minute, the front door of the house opened and the old hare was present, wearing his usual, white linen shirt. He adjusted his glasses straight and approach Lili with a cane to support his balance.

The old hare stretched out his paw to Lili. “Alright, girl, let me see it. And I hope you are right about this?”

“Oh, grandpa, you know me.” Lili said, passing the gold coin to him “I’m never wrong.”

“Hmph, we’ll see about that.” As the old hare examined the coin, his curiosity flared at an instant. He checked from both side and pondered deeply. “Hmm, you weren’t wrong about this one. It’s quite unique. Especially the head. It looks nothing of any mammal that I know of. Where did you say they were again?”

“At the village, they’re down at the town hall as we speak. So is that mean you’re coming, Grandpa?”

The old hare had to admit that the coin prove a great deal; especially the design it presented: an unfamiliar head from one side and an unknown knight at the other. Could Lili be telling the truth? Could there be something new that no animal had ever seen before? There was only one thing to do...

“Lead on.”


Red wine spilled on the white carpet snow where crowds of angry audiences flock from the shadow, glaring in their sickly, purplish glow. Restless sounds of their cries, their bodies dangled like branches, acted in a monstrous and cruel display of their former life.

There was nothing alive about them; they were dead, and they walk the earth.

Aviel made a ran dash into the woods, knowing not how long since being chased upon. His hand covered the wound from the lower stomach, still bleeding through the bandages that he tried to mend. He could hear them from behind. They were close. Real close. He had to hurry; he had to escape.

No matter how many times Aviel cut them down, two more would take its place. The dead were stubborn, relentless and determined; they move without rest for they need no rest. Their desire for life would bring him to their hold.

Aviel could feel the sickness upon them; a terrible sickness of unknown origin. Magic was the cause of their blight, but what of it. The corruption, the madness that spawned in them; they were twisted, rotten into a state of deformity. They bore a plague that would destroy the land and everyone in it. And it was inside of him.

The wound from his stomach became infected when a creature, a humanoid beast, plunged towards him with a dark dagger. Whatever effects that the dagger bore, Aviel felt the corruption, building and eating away whatever left inside of him. It wouldn’t take long before the disease would overwhelm him.

Aviel traveled miles through the forest, heading deep into unknown territory. He turned his head back, to realize, that the dead stop in their pursuit. Did he escape from their grasp?

Aviel soon rested at a large tree, leaning his body against its weight; he collapsed to ground, bending to his knees as he was spent from the chase. He take a good look at his sword, once bright and vibrant red, now coated in a dark, purplish hue that ooze like gelatinous sludge.

The smell was abhorrent; Aviel barely manage to concentrate what was on front of him. He struggled to make a stand, his two legs shook wild and violent until they collapsed once more. This time, his whole body followed to the ground.

Aviel succumbed to the stress, lost great amount of blood and drifted into a long, dreamless sleep; never to be awaken again. The struggle to stay awake was futile and, before long, darkness welcomes him.
Remnant of Iron, Chapter 1, Discontinued

The bluegrays reached to the village; the mistress made contact with the inhabitants; Lili spread the news, and Aviel encountered the Rot.


1. The story that I am going to do would be in a mix. The certain style between past and present tense. Would not work for sure, but this is an experiment, and an experiment I shall go. Also, the story would be separate into different arcs, focusing different characters.

It's like Game of Thrones type of style...anyway...moving on...

2. My first thought that when the bluegrays encounter the people Armello, they would be in difficult to understand at one another. A language barrier between the two. I remember this show called, Shogun from the 1980s where an Englishman  set sail to the land of the rising sun of Japan, and that he doesn't understand them. It's like, starting a new lesson all over again.

3. Aviel's encounter with the rot is important as the Armello is based upon the rot and its corruption. (Well it focus between four mammals against a corrupted king, but you get the idea) Bit of a time forward, but Aviel was wounded by a group of plague bearers and he felt it too within him. Don't know if he would succumbs to it or not as my brain matter is squished into a pulp full of jelly.

Again, thank you for reading, and I'll see you soon...or hear from you know the idea...
The expedition returned to where it all started. A land of snow and ice and death.

Traveled for days and beyond miles from the safe shelter of the hamlet, the expedition lead by Partishan Callus progressed through the rigid and deplorable environment to the doorstep of the dark and forsaken woods where the dead remained: both the Empire and the extinct Order.

While the men encamped at the entrance of the forest with nothing but good company and steel determination to fortify themselves for the night, the officers gathered at the large tent where the leader resided. The men had an objective, an achievement and a task. Failure to not succeed was a worth of disgrace for the Empire and the Commandant.

The purpose of the expedition was to salvage the resources left behind at the battlefield. Beside recovering lost stragglers that were stranded in the forest, the men had explicit orders, from the Partishan, to eliminate and destroy any known trace of the Scarlet Order that survived the previous conflict.

While the officers departed with their orders being given, Dumar Callus the Partishan sat comfortably in his chair with a bottle of Ashenvale wine. He was absent in his distraction, dedicated to enjoy the moment of his peace before the events of tomorrow. Yet there was a sudden reflection that bothered his silence, a question that needed to be ask.

Alone with his thoughts, Partishan Callus wondered about his life and the chances of freedom that were open to him. The dull life of a Partishan was a mundane and trivial conjecture that even the grandest of them would suffer under the Empire’s rule. Decadent and corrupt, nobles and bureaucrats, they held a tight leash to what they created.

Partishans were an expensive product, great tools to smite against Heartens and the Abnormal, hideous abominations that were deformed by the Heart’s power. Since the death of the creator, along with the secrets to make one, the Partishans were a dying breed, a rare and an uncommon sight in the Empire. From over a legion of Partishans at the start of the war, one-fourth remained in service at the end.

Dumar Callus and the rest of the Partishan were considered fortunate that they managed to survive the war. The only thing left for them was this strange, unknowable land to explore and the dangers that lurk in the night.

There was an interruption outside from the tent. It was a soldier, stoic and grim, displaying of an experience professional. Late in his forties with black hair and eyes, the soldier had a chiseled scorch mark upon his face. A scar that he got from a Crimsonier in one of his skirmishes.

“Ah, you have arrived.” Callus said, not looking back at the exit. “Proceed inside, trooper.”

The soldier entered the tent, saluting at the Partishan. “Trooper Holver, reporting.”

Callus dismissed the formality with a gesture and right away spend no time to idle chatter. “Are the men ready, trooper Holver?”

“The men are prepared. Partishan Oliver is waiting for your command as we speak.”

“Excellent. Send word to Oliver that his first wave shall depart at early dawn. You are dismiss, trooper Holver.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot follow that. There is a matter of urgency that I would like to discuss with you in private.”

Callus curiously raised an eyebrow. “And pray tell what have you ask of me?”

Holver gradually presented the evidence. From his hand was a quiver, filled with arrows of unfamiliar design.

Callus pondered and grabbed of the evidence. “And what is this?”

“An anomaly, milord.” Holver voiced concernedly. “One of my men spotted this not far from the encampment. The arrows inside is well attended, almost brand new in fact.”

Callus inspected the arrow to be made out of a strong craft, shafted with a feathery fletch at the back with a thin, metallic tip at the front. He quickly agree with Holver’s observation that the arrows were brand-new, evident without a tear or damage.

Based upon the evidence, Callus concluded on two simple outcome. Either the surviving members of the Scarlet Order had manage to survive from their ordeal or that a third party, an unknown element, remained elusive far beyond into the forest.

The outcome wasn’t favorable from either the two.

“Milord, I advice that we should renew our strategy. If there is a slightest chance that a threat still looms it would jeopardize the whole expedition.”

Callus quickly placed the quiver from aside the table. “Trooper, as much as I commend you for telling me this, why did you not simply report this to Partishan Oliver?”

“I have, milord. He personally wanted your opinion about it.”

“Ah, of course. No doubt that you or Oliver may suspect of me to deny such a suspicion?”

“Suspicion is like a heavy armor, milord. With its weight it impedes more than it protects.”

Callus cannot help but chuckled at the response. “So says the late Robert Burns, archivists of the Empire. Never knew you were a poet person?”

“I’m an avid reader, milord. Takes a time to relax before a battle can commence.”

“For that I cannot doubt your reason.” Callus spend his focus pouring a glass of wine. He sipped a tiny morsel of the red liquid, satiating the bitter taste in his mouth. “Ah, that’s some good stuff. Tell Partishan Oliver that he has no complaints from me. If he wishes to send out some skirmishers before the main then I do not interject to the proposition.”

Holver knew that it was the signal for him to depart. Without a word, he stood firmly straight, saluted at the Partishan and left from his tent.

As the soldier was out of sight, Callus cannot help but to snicker at the trivial performance that Partishan Oliver made. He wasn’t some grand leader or some important figure. And yet, he couldn’t blame him or any of the Partishan that came under his wing. Ever since he defeated one of the Grandmeister of the Scarlet Order, his reputation grew at an exponential rate that even the noble elite grew weary of his advances.

It didn’t help for the nobles at all when they slandered his name with infamy. It made Callus even more fearful and respectful upon the eyes of the Imperial army and to the Scarlet Order.

With enough said and done, Callus didn’t want to be bothered with the fame or the glory or the amount of wealth that was showered upon him wherever he went. He desired but one thing and that was to be free from his service, living in a dull, but complacent life.

Callus did of course wonder if this was the right time to stage his own revolution and defy Lady Valice. How would the Partishans or the soldiers under his command would react to his response? With much at stake from this expedition and the accomplishment of the objective, he shrugged off with a gesture and spend his hour of worry with a glass of Ashenvale wine.

To him, it was the best drink that he had in a long time.


By next dawn of light, Partishan Oliver, Trooper Holver and a selective number of skirmishers, ventured onward into the forest with no time to be spend upon. They remembered the path towards the battlefield, the scarred remains where the dead lingered beneath the snow. It was eerily silent among the group, not making a sound to draw attention from the enemy.

Partishan George Oliver was briefed upon the latest development from Callus after they left the encampment. He had suspected the worse that the remaining forces of the Scarlet Order or an unknown, third party, might remain in the forest. Whatever the situation that may occur in the end, he was more than ready to take them on, displaying his might and the might of the Imperial army to the world with extreme, efficient manner.

The trip towards the battleground went without incident. Their journey was a slow, but tedious course due to the snow that poured heavily last night. It was this moment that silence gave some skirmishers a pause to reflect of their existence. Holver was one of them being effected by the peaceful solitude of the forest.

Uvriid Holver was a professional hunter before being conscripted into the royal army. In his youth, he would dream of his personal adventures, fighting gruesome monsters, proclaiming to be the hero of the day. He was a carefree spirit, full of naive innocence that make anyone smile. That memory alone reminded Holver what he was and his purpose in the army. To root out evil and be the hero of the day.

The group stopped in their trail at the gesture of Partishan Oliver. The moment of peace had pass. The skirmishers were primed to await for instruction.

Holver was chosen to be the first to advance ahead along with Geos and Ivane. Holver had been with these two men for over three years and had never known a finer company.

Gerome Geos was an ordinary baker in a humble village. A decent man, kind and generous, who shared his leftovers with children who’d finish from school. That life of content ended when the Scarlet Horde destroyed his village. All that was left from the baker was a vengeful and dyspeptic man, sorely bent for vengeance.

The profession of Titan Ivane before the war was a violent, but profitable establishment. Bloodlust with adrenaline, Ivane would fight in the pit and challenge anyone who had the courage to face him. When the war erupted, Ivane joined in the army not for the Empire, but for a challenge and the once in a life time experience to beat the Scarlet Order into a bloody pulp.

The three ventured into the forest, deeper, ever onward to the cold and blackened darkness. Encountered nothing but snow and death at the certain point of their journey they stopped midway to understood the reason for Oliver’s decision.

There was a peculiar odor towards the front of the battleground. It was a distinct smell, foul and familiar to the three volunteers. During the war atrocities were made throughout the Empire. Both side committed inhumane practices to ensure a sound and solid victory. One of the atrocities made by the Order was burning victims alive.

Fittable by the description, they were no doubt smelled the charred remains of human corpses.

All three looked at each other with concern, nodding at their plight and situation. They cautiously proceeded to the entrance of the battleground and found several extinguished bonfires with human remains as the source of the fire. They could no longer describe among the corpses that were reduced to ash and bone.

The three pressed onward, spend little to no detail that surrounded them. What had happen to the dead was tragic, their name, their individual uniqueness, forever lost to the flame. However morbid or sad, the three had a job to do. They steeled themselves to their next course of action and began to investigate the area.

It was very clear that the once battlefield where two armies clashed became a human disposal site. Any known trace from both sides of the faction were summarily destroyed in the fire or other destructive means. Holver had to admit that whoever done this made great stride to rid of the evidence. If that was so, who or what that caused it?

While Holver and Ivane continued on with their search, Geos on the other hand stopped in his attempt when something caught in his view.  

Far from the distant was a humanoid creature, a brown wolf, wearing a dark blue tunic, carrying a bunch of chopped wood meant to create another bonfire. It didn’t pay much attention until it spotted the skirmishers.

Silence reigned as both man and beast gazed at one another. While Geos was still in shock to what he just witness, the wolf quickly abandoned to what it was doing and ran from the other direction.

Geos didn’t hesitate to act. He aimed for the wolf’s leg and pulled the trigger with his trusted musket. The musket boomed and echoed around the battleground, startling the two skirmishers that were nearby. The shot was accurate, managing to immobilize the wolf from going any further. He would have prefer to kill the beast and be done with it, but unknown to the situation the more logical thing to do was to gather information.

As Holver questioned over his action, Geos explained convincingly to his exploit. The three approached to the wounded beasts with muskets aimed at its head. The wolf growled, snarled its vicious teeth and spoke a strange dialect that neither the three could understand.

“Well this is something of a find.” Holver declared, apparently pleased at Geos. “This would be a good gift for the Partishan when we get back to him.”

The wolf was about to make a desperate leap to one of the skirmishers, to make some sort of resistance. It failed in a spectacular fashion. It went down hard into the ground with the full force from the butt of a musket, knocking itself unconscious in the process.

Ivane sneered with discourtesy at the creature’s fool attempt. “Blasted beastie, thinking you could get a jump on me. You’re lucky we needed you alive or otherwise we ended you right here and now.”

“That’s enough Ivane.” Holver found a decent rope and tossed it over to him. “Tie it up. We need that thing alive before more comes to the rescue. As much as the expedition wasn’t a total lost that shot alone drew a lot of attention and I do not want any more of its kind come breathing down our neck.”

Geos craned his head downward, slightly ashamed, but never regretted over his action.

Ivane guffawed brightly at Holver’s cautiousness. “Let them come, I say. If this beast is like the rest of them then they are a bunch of poor creatures indeed with no right sense of function. This one hardly put up a fight at all.”

Geos gestured his hand, acting out with worry of what his friend was about to do.

“Hah! I do not need you to be concern over what I do.” Ivane replied dismissively. “And no I won’t bloody beat this beast to a pulp. As much I’m eager for a fight, I do not find himself harming a defenseless creature. Although the beast did attempt to take me out, I’m sure it would find more when that came from.”

Holver sighed out loud. “Enough with the chatter, get that beast and move out!”
Remnant of Iron, Alternate, Chapter 3 - The Wolf
Fire burns in the gather; hot and warm and inviting. Men of Death tossed into open flame, taking all that was all of them into ash and dust. No reason could explain, but an action that must be done. A battlefield turned into a pyre.
Due to with heavy decision I have decided to create an alternative. The story shall be redo all except for the prologue. At of this moment, the current chapter of Remnant of Iron has ended. Welcome to the alternate.Rage 


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Bunnywappet Featured By Owner May 23, 2017
Hi. I've been watching your captivating YT channel since the very beginning and silly me just discovered your account here , keep up the amazing work .
Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner May 25, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
I thank you for the compliment. :)
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!!!
Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Making a late reply: Thank you :)
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! Thanks for the watch btw!
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner May 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank for the fave!
Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner May 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
No, thank you for the story
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner May 24, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome, glad you liked it.
DraganTheMighty Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fav.
Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
No problem. Love your work
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