December 15, 2013

The Sad Story of Tel 'a Jin
by Ulic

Tel 'a Jin was well and thoroughly lost. He never should have left the road, he thought bleakly. A half-hundred trips to the northern towns without incident, but this time he'd listened to that fellow in the Silver Sparrow Inn. Go through the swamp he said. It's an easy trek he said. No need to waste days by going around. Just a straight shot through. The only thing to worry about is a couple of crocodiles and a few mosquitoes.

So, Tel 'a Jin took the road less traveled and entered the great swamp. That was over a week gone now, and here he sat, in the cursed quagmire, remembering.

Tel had entered the swamp without incident. At first it seemed as if the fellow was right, the swamp would provide an easy shortcut. It was damp, fetid and humid, as all swamps are, but nothing he could not handle. Then he saw the first mosquito he had been warned of; it was the size of his head! Tel shuddered in disgust as it flew lazily toward him. He sliced at it one, two, three times with his short sword before the creature finally went down, blood flying everywhere. Tel was attacked by the giant mutated mosquitos thrice more that day. As the sun began to set, he was assaulted by a man-eating plant and finally lost his nerve. Enough was enough. Regardless of the time it would cost him, he would turn back. Tel retraced his steps, passing through the heavy foliage of the swamp, but he could no longer find his way out. He located where he had entered the swamp, or at least it looked like where he had entered, however, instead of a narrow path that led to the dense forest beyond, there was only a solid wall of vegetation. He tried to retrace his footsteps, over and over again, looking for the entrance, but it was gone, as if swallowed whole.

As Tel 'a Jin searched for a way out, a wild-eyed old man, dressed in naught but a tattered black cloak and carrying a battered longsword burst from the foliage to his left, pursued by two of the swamps great crocodiles. Acting on instinct, Tel rushed to the aid of the man, burying his short sword into the back of the closest crocodile. The great beast roared in pain and rolled away from Tel, snapping the blade of his short sword at the hilt in its haste to get away before fleeing back into the depths of the swamp.

Having sent the first crocodile running, Tel turned to face the second, who was crawling toward the old man. Tel saw the old man raise his sword toward the crocodile while slowly backing away from its deadly jaws. As the man retreated, his foot slipped on a pile of rotting vegetation, causing him to throw his arms wide in an attempt to keep his balance. The sudden motion sent his blade flying and as the old man stumbled, the crocodile struck. The old man screamed in pain as the enormous creature fastened its jaws around his leg.

Weaponless, Tel watched in horror, unable to move, as the crocodile tore into the man's flesh.

"Help me!" he screamed wildly at Tel.

The scream broke through Tel's shock and he ran toward where the man's sword had landed, thrusting his arms into the foul, murky water. He was on the point of despair when his hands brushed against a hard shape beneath the surface of the water. The blade!

Reaching, Tel found the hilt and pulled the battered longsword from the water triumphantly. He spun and charged the crocodile, who continued to feed upon the old man, despite his struggles to break free. Tel brought the blade down with a mighty slash and opened a wound across the beast's back. The crocodile bellowed in pain, and released the man. Another slash severed one of the crocodile's legs as it tried to claw at the new attacker. Tel danced backward as the crocodile snapped at him with its mighty jaws and thrust again ' running the sword through the crocodile's unprotected eye. The great beast shuddered once and then lay still; dead.

Tel wrenched the blade free from the corpse of the crocodile and turned to face the man he had saved. The old man lay upon the sodden ground, blood flowing freely from the many wounds inflicted by the crocodile.

"Rest easy," said Tel as laid the longsword beside the man and did his best to tend to his injuries.

The old man reached to his side and grasped the hilt of the sword as Tel tried to stop the bleeding. "This blade. It is the key, it is magic." the man said weakly. "I do not know why, or even how, but it is the key to surviving the dangers in this swamp. You must take it."

"No." Tel replied. "It is yours. Keep it and we shall escape this place together."

"I won't be leaving, the beast has finished me. Nothing can stop the inevitable. You still have a chance. Take it Take the blade!" he cried as he thrust the old longsword at Tel.

This time Tel accepted the blade and the old man seemed to relax, his breathing not as labored.

"You were meant for the blade, I think." the old man said after a moment and closed his eyes. Even as Tel watched, the body of the man turned into a fine mist and dissipated into the heavy air of the swamp, leaving only the mans tattered black cloak behind.

Not understanding what had happened to the old man, or knowing what to do next, Tel gathered the ragged cloak, wrapped it around the blade and continued to search for a way out of the swamp.

Finally, after wandering for what seemed like days, Tel came across an old, weatherbeaten shack. The shack was little more than three poorly fitted plank walls and a rotting roof of thatch. Compared to the rest of the dismal swamp, it was paradise on earth. There was no sign of the owner of the shack, but Tel could go no further without rest, and at least the hovel provided some protection from the elements. That night, he used what small magic he had to shield the area against intrusion, and for the first night since he entered the wretched swamp, he slept.

As he slept, he dreamt. He dreamt of the old man and his words that the blade was his key to survival. He dreamt of fire, and of eyes red like blood. And one word echoed through the corridors of his dream. Thanos.

Tel 'a Jin awoke, feeling stronger than he had since becoming lost within the swamp. He clutched the blade the sorry old man dropped in his hands, ready to defend himself yet again from the denizens of the swamp. The creatures of the swamp still snarled and snapped at him, but none attacked this day: armed as he was with the fearful blade.

Tel wandered the swamp for the rest of the day, and into the night. He still searched for a way out of the swamp, but found it harder and harder to remember where he was headed and why it was so important to leave.

As he strode through the swamp, he studied the longsword the old man had bestowed upon him. Tel was unsure why he had ever thought it anything less than magnificent. He could sense the power locked within the ebony blade, calling out to him, promising him its strength. He did not know why part of his brain screamed that something was not right with this, and that he should focus on escaping the swamp, but he was easily able to silence the voice.

When he slept that night, he did not even bother to shield against the creatures of the swamp. He had grown comfortable, and had nothing to fear from them. Again that night he dreamt the old man. In his dream, the old man told him that he had been chosen, that none could stand against him, and that the rewards for loyal service were greater than he could imagine.

The next morning Tel 'a Jin arose early, blade in hand. As he strode confidently through the swamp, he wondered why he had ever sought to escape. The old man was right; he had been chosen and he would use the blade to protect the swamp, his home now, from all who would threaten it or his master.

As he moved through the swamp with a purpose only he knew, nothing bothered him. The creatures of the swamp embraced him as one of their own. The great lord Thanos had a new guardian. No longer was he Tel 'a Jin. He was the Dark Strider of the Swamp.