​

Agartha: City of the Golden God, pt. 1​

It was rowdy in the tavern, as farmers and hunters tried to drink away the money they'd earned that day. Beer was flowing wildly, and bar was populated with drunk men wanting to be drunker. The tables were packed together so tightly, that it was a wonder people could still sit in their chairs. Everyone was packed back to back, and there really wasn't any room for movement. Packed away in the corner, Griffin sat at a table, discussing his latest plan with a woman he had just met.

"So, have you ever heard of Agartha?" Griffin asked the woman.

"I have," she said, and took a big tug of her beer, "I've heard loose tales about it. Mentions in other stories. Children's stories, mostly." She looked Griffin straight in the eyes, her green eyes locking in his brown ones. "As I said, children's stories."

Griffin grinned, and let his hand run through his short brown hair. "As did I," he said, "but I got bored, so I started looking into it. It's hard to find books about, though, people started to forget about it. Such a shame when that happens." He tried to take a swig from his beer, but the pint was empty. Disappointed, he put it back on the table.
"Anyway, want to hear about it?"

The woman pushed her red hair out of her eyes, and gave a slight nod.

"Agartha was once a mighty city, they say. A city so big, it was itself a kingdom. Which really is just a city-state if you think about it, but it impressed people anyway. They say it was built the same day the earth was built. While the gods build the outside of the earth, the Agarthians build its core. They build their city out of stone and wood, with rivers that used to glow red. They completed the city, as the gods finished earth, and the golden god Yupi visited their-"

"Yupi?" The woman asked. "I have never heard about a God called Yupi."

"It's an ancient religion. It changed, it fused, it evolved, and now there is nothing left of it. You might find some traces of it in the other religions, but most of it only lives on ancient scrolls now," Griffin explained, "but, anyway. Yupi visited their city, and decided to grace their city, because they had built a temple for the god. He turned every piece of wood in the city into solid gold, and graced every person with a ring of gold, so they wouldn't ever forget him. After this comes they deal with some people, some stuff happens, it all does not matter really, although they did fight a mad dragon god at some point, which I think is worth a mention. The city at one point was met with Abnu, the stone titan, who they angered. No mention of how, but apparently they did. Abnu got mad, and he challenged their royal knight in a battle. The Agarthians asked for mercy, and Abnu abided. Well, sort of, he tore of his arm, which he attributed as his champion. The royal knight and the arm battled, and in the end, Abnu's champion won. As soon as the battle ended, the city collapsed, every piece of rock in the city crumbled. And that was the end of Agartha."

The woman gave a look of sarcastic unbelief. "Okay, so we're going off to find a crumbled city out of a myth from a crumbled religion? I don't see how this will work out."

Griffin grinned. "Oh, none of that story is true, but I'll tell you what I believe is true if you want to tag along. Because I'm sure I can find Agartha."

​

Dishonourable Discharge

Zane squinted in frustration, as the sun peered over the clouds that he'd been staring up at. The emergence of the bright gas ball snapped him back to reality, making him more alert to the surrounding signals to his senses. The sounds of child grunting and steel clashing with wood: the smell of the bright aromatic roses that cluttered the area and the feel of the summer breeze gently tugging at his body. He couldn't emulate the scene much better in his dreams. Unfortunately though, he was already late, and his dad would've been expecting him in Voltmere that evening.

He groaned, as he pushed his body up and noticed the grunts and groans he'd been hearing were the sounds of his younger brother honing his swordplay. He watched the slow and weak strikes with sympathetic eyes.

"Hey Max, how long have you been training for?" The fatigue in his voice diluted the sincerity of his concern. The young boy paused. His expression resembled that of a startled deer. He glanced up at the centred sun, before looking back down at his brother.

"A better question, is how long have you been asleep?" He responded with sass. Zane grumbled at the response. "It's evening now. Father will be expecting us home soon." He continued as he sheathed his short sword. Zane resisted the urge to laugh, and instead settled for a soft chuckle.

"He'll have to wait longer than he expected then, won't he?" He grinned. Max frowned at his older brother. While Max would often be punished for displaying any kind of rebellious nature, Zane seemed to constantly get away with impunity. His older brother often got away with no more than a scolding.

"Can I go hunting?" Max burst out spontaneously. He knew his brother was much more lenient than his father, meaning he could be pardoned for much more dangerous and exciting activity. Zane scoffed. He stood up, and unbuttoned the satchel on his horse's side, revealing two loaves of bread and two raw fish. "I'm not hungry for fish." Max groaned, edging away.

"I'm not sending you hunting." Zane announced sternly, after taking a bite of his bread. Max wisely chose not to continue pressing. He took his food, and began to eat.

As night began to fall, the two brothers took to their respective 'beds' and lay around a fire. Zane stared deeply into the flames, while his brother cooed in admiration of his straight sword.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" He pried, with great intrigue. He inspected the sleek silver blade before admiring the cotton coated grey handle. After a few seconds of garnering no response he called out again. "Zane, do you know what you want to name your sword?" He repeated, almost shouting. Zane glanced up from the flames. He glared at the blade of the sword, before looking back at the flames.

"No. It hasn't done anything yet, it doesn't warrant a name." He sighed. The wind began to pick up, and the flames swayed left, revealing Max's face on the other side. The younger brother was staring at the sword in confusion, presumably at his elder brother's previous statement.

"What about the great siege?" He squeaked. He sounded highly disappointed by Zane's downplaying, of what was essentially the greatest story he'd ever heard about his brother and father. Zane scoffed. It took him a few seconds, but he jolted up after he realised just what he'd done. Max stared on in utter heartbreak. "Why…What's wrong with naming your sword something related to…" He sighed, refraining from repeating the name of the event again. Zane froze in horror. He'd carelessly showed his disgust towards that day. He couldn't downplay it now.

"I guess you're old enough now." He sighed. "You can't say anything to mum or Sally, or…anyone, okay?" Both boys nodded to confirm their trust in each other to keep the secret. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a 'great' siege, but that's the name it was given. It's sort of a propaganda in that sense." He shrugged.

"Propaganda?" Max tilted his head innocently.

"You'll understand when I'm done explaining. Anyway, I'm going to start off by saying that father was in the wrong. He started the war, and 'the great siege was basically him trying to clean up his own mess." He paused, giving time to the expected gasp that his brother responded with. "I don't know the mess that father caused, but essentially the siege was a slaughter fest. We were killing off everyone that knew father's secret. The elderly, women, children. Everyone that saw father as a bad person was slaughtered by that blade. I suppose I could call the sword nightmare if you want a name befitting of that 'great siege'." He rolled over, now facing away from Max and the fire. "Get some sleep. We'll be heading home come sun rise."

Prologue:
The End of Monotony

The sun happily rose to greet the world with it's gross incandescence, leading to a vaguely human-shaped lump of cotton shedding it's covers. Doran stood up properly and stretched, smiling softly at the small bit of light filtering through the thick covers. His eyes never failed to shoot open as the sun woke, after all that time it even seemed to happen when he was cut off from it. A feminine groan roused the man's mind from contemplation and his smile grew even gentler as he stepped back to the bed and shifted the covers to better warm their remaining occupant.

No time or energy was wasted while re-dressing, in this case habit being the cause instead of the usual culprit practicality. Doran stepped evenly down the stairs from the first set of rooms to the pub that made up the inn's ground floor without putting his hood on and greeted anyone he recognized on his way to the bar. Upon arrival he was met with a good-natured smirk from the rather masculine woman that ran the establishment. She bent down and pulled two jugs from under the counter before any words left her customer's mouth, chuckling all the while. "So, what happened with Mira? Didn't even get a 'good morning darling' before you're off eh? The stoic Ranger's got no room for romance in his life I suppose?"

One more smile graced the man's face while he was filling his canteens with only-slightly-stale water from the jugs he'd been offered. "She understands Gladdis, I like to think I was clear. It's not likely you or anyone else around here will be seeing me for quite a while. I think I shall be leaving Southden for a while. I need a change of scenery, and what better way to achieve it than to spend some time familiarizing myself with the other holds? I wouldn't be much of a Ranger if I could only appreciate a limited range of wilderness would I?"

"Oh? And where'll ya be headed first then?" She asked, attending to an ugly spot she'd noticed on her counter.

"Not sure yet, but I'll make up my mind before I reach one of the borders I'm sure." Was the only answer she was granted, that, and a small coin purse left with the jugs on Doran's way out.

The foresight to fletch a full-quiver's-worth of fresh arrows on his first night back in town was truly a blessing in making a smooth exit from the town. As always, Doran didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone who hadn't found him before he put his hood up, and was simply one of many cloaks in the streets for his departure. A certain amount of reluctance managed to drag at Doran's feet for a while, after all the forests of Southden felt like the closest thing he'd had to a home since his childhood. But the hold had plenty of capable frontiersman and guides in it already, it was a necessity for any manner of civilization to prevail in such a place, he wasn't particularly needed.

Whatever slight misgivings Doran may have had completely vanished, strong-armed from his mind by the rush of excitement at the new experiences that lay ahead. Finally he could put his skills to the test learning how to survive all over again in newer - and perhaps harsher - environments, so many new plants to learn about and creatures to meet. Finally the title "Ranger" could be put to the test by one of it's youngest, but most talented holders.
​

Agartha: City of the Golden God, pt. 2
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Footsteps on dried leaves, that was a sound Griffin probably would never get tired of. Every good adventure started with the first step, and he had decided that the first step for his adventures should make the sound of footsteps on dried leaves. What made it even better, was the fresh forest smell. It always created a little ecstasy in Griffin. This was the start of an adventure, and if he loved something, it was adventure.

Joan walked behind him. She seemed way less intrigued by the forest than Griffin was, which was logical considering she only joined him because he promised her riches. She wore light chainmail, covering her whole upper body. She rather wore her armor, but traveling on foot through a forest did not allow for a full set. No, chainmail was the ideal combination of protective and mobile. She did bring her broadsword, which hang at her side. It was heavy, as broadswords tend to be, but she was used to the weight. She wanted to bring her shield along, but Griffin told her to leave it, as it would only slow her down.

?So, you wanted to tell me about your ideas about this city,? Joan said.

Griffin stopped in his tracks, and turned around.

?Yes. Yes, yes, yes, I?ll tell you all about it,? he said. He seemed to have lost control of his arms, as they frantically waved through the air. ?Okay, so look. This kingdom? city? well, city-state, it existed. It was just a small city, trading with those around it, but it was rich. I told you about it being plated in gold, right? Well, assume that?s not true. Plating everything in gold is just stupid. I mean, golden sword, that can be cool, but nobody needs golden flagpoles. Anyway, if you ever hear of cities plated in gold, it means either the people were stupid or the city used to be rich. The fact that it was at the core of the earth, that?s just ancient people talk for it being in a canyon or between mountains, or maybe it has a lot of caves. I don?t know yet, and that?s exciting! That collapsing city story is just a metaphor for the economy, I hope. Or it could have been an actual earthquake, which seems actually more likely, now that I say it out loud, but we?ll just assume it?s still intact.?

Joan looked worried at the mention of the possible destruction of their destination. No city, no treasure, and probably a smaller pay out.

?I?ll make sure you get paid, don?t worry,? Griffin continued. ?Somehow,? he added with a mumble.

The ground they were walking on got steeper and steeper, as the forest transitioned into a mountainside. Griffin took a quick right, and Joan tried her best to follow him, but he did not communicate his directions. It was around a five minute walk from their original route, a nice firm path. It was the route carriages would take, and normal people. The ground was firmly squashed together, and the brown earth seemed so much more walkable then the leaves, twigs and mud they had walked through the last couple of hours.

The mountain road was easily scalable. While it was quite steep, there also seemed to have developed natural stairs through heavy use. Griffin seemed to be a bit too eager. Instead of walking the path, he was pulling himself up the side of the mountain, and cut off a lot of the path. While Joan kept scaling the side at her relaxed pace, Griffin was already at the top of this side, some thirty meters higher.

?They say this path was made by a powerful sorceress because she didn?t want to walk through the forest,? Griffin yelled to Joan.

?I started to sympathize with her today,? Joan said back.

?She traveled through Abyllia, long before there were as many people as there were now, and a lot of roads are attributed to her. Although it?s a bit unfair to the people that build them, really.?

?So, you?re assuming she existed too??

?Well, everything existed. Some people just exist as stories,? Griffin laughed, ?but it?s as likely as anything. I mean, there are some pretty powerful mages out and about. There probably was a really powerful sorceress back then. And, you know, maybe she liked to create pathways and roads.?

Joan pulled herself up. The path was wider now, and there seemed to be thick vegetation. The ground was still at an angle, but it seemed to real steepness was done for a while. The road curved through the trees and rocks, making it hard to see where exactly it was leading too. She could hear animals rustling through the plants, as they quickly ran from the nearing humans.

A man was laying against a tree, his feet stretching over the path. He was very thinly clothed, with just a cloth shirt and pants. He seemed to be staring off into the sky. What made it all a strange appearance was the bird on his head, pecking into his forehead, without the man even flinching, or paying attention to it.

Joan wanted to continue walking, but Griffin stopped before the man, and went to sit down next to him, against the same tree.

?You know there is a bird on your head, right?? Griffin asked.

The man turned his head to Griffin, opened his mouth to say something, and then let out a sigh. He straightened himself. The sudden movement scared the bird off, and it flew to the tree above.

?It keeps me company,? the man said. His voice was low and sounded broken, as if the man?s vocal chords were hardened. Griffin noticed that the man had very peculiar dark brown eyes, with the pupil missing. They just were brown circles in the white of his eyes.

?So, do you a story?? Griffin asked. He knew the man did, that much was clear, but the interesting part of stories was not knowing they existed, it was hearing them.

?I don?t,? he answered, ?I?m just me, wandering through the forest.?

?Nobody?s just them,? Griffin said, ?well, everybody is them, but nobody is just them. I don?t believe a man like you doesn?t have an interesting past.?

The man sighed. ?It?s not interesting. I?ve been here as long as I can remember, and that?s all. One day I wasn?t, and then I was. I don?t have a story, I just have a point of origin. And a worthless one with that.?

Griffin stood up. ?Why don?t you walk with us?? he paused to let the man fill in the blank with his name, but he didn?t seem to pick up the clue.

?It?s not like I have much else to do,? he said. He went from sitting to standing in the strangest fashion. He did not push himself up, he just seemed to pull his body up straight.

Joan sighed, she did not feel like getting distracted by depressed forest hermits.

?I didn?t agree with you to start a fellowship, Griffin. We aren?t picking up anyone just because you think everything is interesting.?

Griffin scratched his head. ?Are you familiar around these parts?? He asked the man.

?As I said, I?ve been here as long as I can remember. It?s all I?m familiar with,? he said.

?Well, be our guide then!? Griffin said.

The man sighed, but gave an agreeing nod.

?So, what?s your name?? Griffin asked him.

?Wonderboom,? the man answered.

?Wonderboom??

?Wonderboom.?

?I don?t think I?ve ever heard that before,? Griffin said, ?Well, it?s as good a name as any, I guess. Is it from around here??

?Yes. You?re surrounded by wonderboom,? Wonderboom answered.

Joan gave him a confused look. She did clearly not feel like dealing with this man, but she couldn?t just ditch her employer. It was hard to get paid without him.

?Is Wonderboom a tribal name?? she asked.

?No, it?s a species name,? Griffin answered, as he seemed to have realized what was going on. ?It?s the name of this kind of tree,? he gave a knock on the tree they had just sat against. Wonderboom gave an agreeing nod.

?You?re named after a tree?? asked Joan, ?I?d be mad at my parents.?

?All trees are named after trees,? Griffin said, without even giving Wonderboom the chance to speak. ?So, how did a tree become human??

?Long story short,? Wonderboom said, ?there was this lady, she got sort of lost , and decided to ask me the way, because who knows the forest better than a tree? Well, that happened, and since then I?ve been here.?

?She changed a tree into a man to ask for directions?? Joan exclaimed.

?Yes, and sadly she did not turn him back afterwards.? Wonderboom yawned, and stretched his back. ?It has taken some getting used to.?

?So, what have you been doing after that? The world must be an exciting place to someone who had never even taken a step before,? Griffin said.

?I?ve been here. Why would I leave what I have here??

?That?s not very exciting,? Griffin said, moreso to himself than to Wonderboom. ?You know there is really cool stuff out there, right? Want me to show you??

​

Rite of Passage

Voltmere's gates opened, as two horses carried their passengers and cargo. The roads cleared as the large stallions strode through, and many of the children stood in awe as they gazed upon the heavily cloaked riders.

"Stop here." The second rider called out. "Father can wait a little longer. There's no rush." He grinned. The young man on the first horse looked back; his expression dropped when he laid eyes on the building his older brother was referring to.

"So what am I to do?" He enquired. He and his brother and only just returned home, and he'd be damned if he was to be abandoned again. "Father would be furious if he were to find out I'd been in such a place." His obvious disapproval was coupled by an almost angered determination. His brother chuckled in response.

"You're old enough." He shrugged light-heartedly.

"I'm twelve." The boy responded sternly. Max at twelve years old had never been to a brothel. His parents had long since done their best to avoid introducing him to such a place, especially given the disappointment Zane had become since his induction into a life of drinks and whores. Zane placed his hand gently on Max's shoulder. He leaned down, so that the two would be face to face. Max's stern expression turned to one of intrigue, caused by the curiosity he had as to what his brother was going to say.

"Better early that never." Zane grinned mischievously. Max's face dropped in disappointment, much resembling the expression their parents would show if they saw Zane alone in the establishment. The fact that he'd brought Max there would probably have brought about a much different expression; one much less passive.

After a little bit of prompting and persuasion, Max walked nervously into the building with his brother. The bouncy musical vibe and grotesque odour of ale and mead made for a very oxymoronic atmosphere; in Max's eyes anyway. For Zane the place was heaven. He strolled through with a homely confidence. It was a confidence Max had never even seen on his brother at home.

Zane sat at the bar and simply uttered the words 'the regular', before the bartender headed off to mix his beverage. Max nervously staggered atop of the stool. He looked across the room at the whores and maidens that trotted around, barely dressed, he looked in disgust at the patrons that cheered on the naked women who were dressed so conspicuously.

"Do we have to stay here?" Max groaned, clutching on to his stomach in apparent anguish. His brother paid him no mind. He was busy burying his face in a large tankard. His drinking was interrupted by a tapping on his back. He placed his cup and turned to face the stranger.

"Don't draw too much attention." A familiar voice whispered. "We need to talk." After delivering the message, the whisperer strolled casually through the front door. Shortly after, a large group of men all left, following in the same direction as the messenger. Zane sighed. Max followed unwillingly behind, as his brother tailed the group.

After walking for a while, they found themselves at a large gully just aside from civilisation. The only ones around being the man that tapped Zane's shoulder, and the men they'd been following. Zane and Max kept their heads down. The first of the men removed his hood, and gestured his head towards the opposing man's sword. He received no response.

"Matthew Bradshaw. That's a pretty expensive blade you have on you." The man smiled towards the sword. Matthew removed his own hood. He took a quick glance up to ensure Zane had managed to keep up. After noticing his friend, he took began to chuckle. There was a sleek scraping sound as the sword came out of its Sheath.

"So let's say hypothetically you do get the sword," Matthew began. "Which one of you is getting the money?" He grinned. The men looked at each other in amusement. It seemed there was an obvious comradery within the group. There were a few rumbles of chatter, before the general consensus revealed that they had no plans on betraying each other. Matthew smiled again. "If this sword is somehow taken from my possession…only one of you is walking away with it alive. You were willing to follow me this far." The group took stance, opting to surround the famous swords wielder. "Lads…" Matthew sighed.

One of the shorter group member swung his sword. Matthew quickly turned to block the blade with his own sword. Ensuring he didn't have time to respond, a second group member also went to strike, hacking at Matthew's relatively thin armour. An arrow landed on the floor, leaving all the men staring down at it in confusion. It was Matthew who returned his attention back to the battle fastest, twisting and driving his blade through the stomach of the man who'd sliced his armour. He took a quick glance back, chuckling when he saw that it was Max that shot the arrow. Though he missed, Matthew still took pride in the fact it was his best friend's little brother's arrow that could've just saved his life. The diversion allowed him to escape the circle of attackers. The six remaining opponents surrounded him again, this time at least, he had the confidence that the wall wouldn't attack him.

"Sorry. I'll just have to…even the odds." Zane's voice came with the blade that pierced one of the remaining men. "You're sloppy." He sighed. "Better step your game up, Mat." He chuckled. In contrast, the five remaining group members looked on in rage and possibly regret, as they watched a comrade fall for the second time. Matthew rolled his eyes in amusement at Zane's comment.

He wasn't given much time to bask in his friend's heroics though, he was quickly forced to dodge an oncoming sword strike, aimed directly at his head. He followed up by kicking the attacker's vulnerable stomach, causing him to fall down clutching it. Two others went for him, one with a stab, and the other with a sword swing. He blocked the swing, and barely managed to dodge the stab, making the latter just barely miss the former.

Meanwhile, Zane was swiftly dodging, blocking and parrying incoming strikes in rapid succession. Few openings revealed themselves, as the attackers were reluctant to attack from different angles. Whether it was anger or ignorance the stopped them for improvising, it was obvious to Zane that he was far superior in skill to both of them. Frustration began to build at the stalemate, and it was Zane who took the initiative, tucking and rolling through the sword slashes, and in so buying himself some time.

Matthew also continued to be overwhelmed by his three opponents, struggling to find any kind of opening or opportunity. The two friends ended up back to back, again surrounded by the assailants. There wasn't much they could do now. Zane raised his hands with a sigh. As he did so, two more arrows came flying down, these two hitting their targets and taking out two of the attackers.

Before anyone could react, another two followed, both again hitting the target. The final attacker drove at the two men in a rage. His rage fuelled attack was easily dodged by Zane, who pushed him into Matthew sword. After pushing the weakening body off of his sword, Matthew laughed to Zane.

"Max's getting good with that thing, huh?" He chuckled in relief. The two looked up, to see that the twelve year old was no longer alone on the hillside, nor was he alone. They quickly glanced back at each other with a much different expression on their faces.

"We're in trouble." Zane groaned, with his voice full of dread.