Welcome to Gaia! ::

Heavily padded feet ran across the frosted ground with great speed, as the ever loudly growing banter became more and more clearly heard. A whole pack of wargs, fourteen in all, minus the missing one, had now just cleared over the nearby ridge. The scent may have been cleanly erased, but the animals did know the general direction in which it had come from.

Wargs are similar to typical wolves in appearance, the main exception being in their size and snout area. The largest and most well known Warg was Vackra the Black. She stood at 6 feet in height and 6 feet in length. The beast was eventually slain by a well known adventurer in Northern Gaia. Most Wargs however are an average 3.3 feet in height and 6 feet in length counting their bristling tail.

Compared to a typical wolf a Warg's snout looks a little odd on its face, as it seems too big for the rest of the head. It is filled with large razor sharp teeth. At the end of the snout a pointed nose is placed - similar to rats - which gives this beast an incredible sense of smell. Wargs are covered with medium length coarse black and gray hair. Furthermore they have black-flecked yellow eyes that show a feral intelligence. In general females are a little larger then the males, and tend to be more vicious if that is possible. Their coloring also tends to lean more towards darker gray and mostly black.

The wargs have a highly perceptive sense of smell; once it has caught its prey's scent it can follow it anywhere. Even if the prey crosses streams or rivers, it cannot throw the Warg off of its trail. Along with this, the Warg is highly intelligent for an animal. It is thought that they have a language of their own, though what it may be, only the orcs and goblins of the tundra know.

Speaking of Orcs, five of the wargs were currently carrying riders. Although the appearance of Orcs varies from tribe to tribe orcs are generally slightly smaller than men but with more muscular bodies. Their skin and eye color varies from gray to brown or green and from yellow to red. Their eyes often seem to glow at night and it is said that they have an exceptional night vision.

Orcs might have the highest endurance of all races except for dwarves and due to their good noses are able to track their prey over long distances. Their noses are broad and flat, even snout-like, the ears are usually pointed like an elves but bigger and their broad jaws hosts terrible fangs and sharp teeth.

This was merely a scouting party, that now had changed direction and headed for where the wargs wanted to go. The orcs didn't feel like having one of their own eaten again, so they let the wargs lead them.

As such, all five orcs wore thick furs or leather and carried wooden or leather shields to protect against arrows and sword blows. Two held spears, one was armed with a menacing war club, the other was the 'archer' of the group, while the remaining had a sabre, more than likely stolen from an Ice Elf.

Bander silently cursed himself as he peered across the small spanse of snow between the grove and the pack of wargs, feeling angry with himself for being lazy and simply covering up the blood and neglecting to clean away the drag marks. He hadn't counted on orcs being a part of the pack, and they were smart enough to follow the drag marks, even if the wargs were not. And, lo and behold, it took moments for one of the orcs to grunt and motion with a sausage-like finger at the scrapings in the snow. They followed the tell-tale path to the opening in the wall of trees, staring dumbly at the sign before just shrugging and heading on in; they obviously couldn't read.

"Stupid animals..."

The hunter mouthed to himself as he moved about the high boughs of the trees, watching the riders and their mounts from high above. Bander Tol was, if anything, perpetually silent and he made no sounds as he moved about the pines; not evening knocking any needles off of the thin boughs. The orcs were basic creatures, but they recognized that the purple stones designated the proper path, but what they didn't know is that Bander had moved the stones prior to scouting out the area. The path they now followed would lead them in a few circles about the grove before they eventually found the right path and Bander's camp, but by then... the few that were left wouldn't be thinking of trashing anything.

With a grim little smile, the hunter pulls the bow from his back and knocks an arrow, taking aim at the group- Which one would be first?



(( To be continued... ))

Bander often wished that he had the innate water and ice magic of his race, but being of mixed blood denied him of those abilities. The hunter's silver eyes flickered to the dripping icicles all about him and he thought they would have made ideal spears; just musings though, just musings... The next orc in the line would be a bit tougher than the archer-orc, because Bander, out of habit and for luck, only carried a single arrow on him at all times. He hung the bow by the string on the broken spur of a former treebranch and continued on, stalking the swiftly moving riders in complete silence.

The mounted orc weilding the massive war club was riding next to one of the spear-wielders, and thought nothing of when he fealt a tap on his right shoulder. He merely snarled and spat at the brute on his right and then went back to scanning around. But after a few harsh words from the other rider, which Bander did not comprehend but could pretty much guess the jist of, the club-orc's eyes snapped wide open and he clasped his weapon a bit tighter.

The spear-orc hadn't touched him.

A minute or so later the orc fealt supremely clever when, after feeling the tap once again, he swung the club blindly at where his invisible assailant must be. And he succeeded into hitting nothing but air, and then crushing the face of face of his companion on accident. The first spear-wielder wobbled for a second, and then fell lifeless from his mount with a sickening crunch of his broken neck. But the hunter's work was not done.

As the club-wielding orc stared dumbly at the orc he had just slain, Bander Tol dropped silently from the canopy and landed on the monster's broad shoulders, which were currently stooped just enough since it was looking downwards to supply footing. A quick flash of moonlight off of a silver blade and the orc was coughing up blood, the length of the hunter's blade having travelled clean through the top of the club-wielder's head and down into its neck, before it was withdrawn and he sprang away.

The wargs and other orcs saw nothing but a blur and a flash, and that was only if they were fortunate enough to be looking in that general direction at the time.


(( To be continued... ))

By this time the wargs, having had enough of the orcs' foolishness, had turned tail and fled back the way they had came, leaving the lone mounted orc alone and scared. Stubborn to the very end, brandishing his shiny, pilfered sabre, the dumb creature soldiers on down the path. He traveled for quite some time, meeting no resistance, and, being the scary b*****d that he was, figured his masterful handling of the Ice Elf's sabre during the previous skirmishes had warned away his assailant. Grinning stupidly to himself, tusks dripping stinking drool onto the annoyed warg beneath his legs, he gave a grunt of victory when he finally reached the clearing in the middle of the grove. But that moment of glory was swiftly stolen away, and a gasp of uncertaintly escaped his mouth in the form of a stinking cloud of vapor.

Standing calmly across the twenty yard clearing, facing the orc, stood Bander Tol.

In Bander's hand there was a long, single-edge blade similar to the one being grasped clumsily by the lone orc. But, unlike the flimsy weapon the beast held, the hunter's was a true sword, forged of mithril by Dwarven craftsman. It was a rare for someone to have a weapon such as this so far from the Mithril Mountains, but being one of the most prominent fur-traders in Guldor will do that for you. The hilt was off a blackened steel and was bound by tough leather, and creeked when Bander tightened his grip.

"Come on, then."

The hunter had cast aside his cloak and heavy layers, leaving only his tight forming leather armor, bracers, and boots. He stood casually with the point of the blade dug into the ground next to him, leaning a bit of his weight on the pommel of hilt. He hoped that his relaxed demeanor would scare off the orc without a fight. Believe it or not, he was not a fan of conflict. Bander's eyes burned into the orc, a dangerous silver fire dancing behind their glassy surfaces.


(( To be continued... ))

Orcs are far too easy to hunt.

"Nnf..."

Damned orcs. You think after a hundred years or so of the same routine that they'd learn to just, you know, stay the ******** away from his grove. Bander gnashed his teeth and threw down the sword, point first, into the ground and moved off towards one of the hollowed out storage trees. Much like when he had grabbed his Dwarven-crafted blade, all he did was snake his arm inside and grab something that he knew was there, waiting for his grasp.

What he produced was strange; it looked like the twisting horn of a unicorn, but it was a bright blue hue. And with no further hesitation, other than the momentary surveyance of the object to find the opening, the Ice Elf lifted the instrument to his lips and blew a long, breathy note- but no sound came out. It could be assumed this was similar to a dog-whistle though, because the hunter quickly stowed it away back in the storage locker and hurried over to his belongings.

Quick like the cats that prowled the tundra he was as he scooped up his weapon and sheathed it, grabbing his cast-aside garments in the rush to get over to the monumental tree that housed him. It was a very bad idea to be caught on the ground alone with what was coming, no matter how talented of a hunter you are. Bander was probably the only person that had ever killed one in fair combat... but that was beyond the point.

He did that same ol' trick again, and disappeared into the darkness about the trees only to reappear up on one of the rope connection bridges, leaning lightly on the wood hand-railing. It would only be a moment before they came, the polar worms, and when they did Bander wouldn't have to worry about disposing of the bodies of his fallen enemies.

Polar worms are carnivorous.

And right on cue one of the great beasts slid smoothly out of the snow on the ground, as easily as a dolphin moving through water. The creature is, as stated, worm-like with a twenty-foot long, rippling body; it could possibly be described as a snake, if not for the gaping, eyeless maw at the top of its body that made it look like a lamprey. Snowy white, plated-armor lines its entire body and a row of spines runs the corse of its spine, topped on the crest of its 'head' by a twisting blue horn. Rows of razor-sharp teeth made short work of the fallen wargs and orcs, the little feet along the edge of its belly propelling it faster than even the swiftest of caribou.

The great beast made a few circuits about Bander's Grove, gobbling up all the corpses, before rearing its massive, four-foot wide head in the air unleashing an unearthly scream, which sent animals of all kinds scurrying back into their dens for miles around. On all of the tundra maybe two dozen of these creatures existed, but that was enough to give them quite the terrible reputation. They lived for incredibly long times, could live off of little food for just as long, and were notoriously vicious.

Bander Tol admired their killer tenacity.

With a small sigh and a mopping of his brow with the back of a fur-lined bracer, the hunter spins and simply lets himself fall to the ground, somehow managing to make falling onto his back with a crash look graceful. And then he just stared up at the stars, the inherent nature of ALL elves to gaze at them for hours on end not lost upon he.

Everything is far too easy to hunt...

The statement would only be met with an empty room. The question here was, where did Hul disappear off to? Simple, in the early hours of the day, he had woken up, and since he was polite enough to let the host rest after such an intense battle that last night, he had quietly, but ever so slowly lowerd the ladder and climbed down. After doing such a thing, he had grabbed one of the four sacks and hauled it off out of the forest and towards the monastery. After that, he would turn around and wander back after the other three bags. It would be a long day...

However, if there were any traps or alarms in the path through Bander's Grove, Hul, oddly enough, would be lucky enough not to trigger any of them on his way out and back in. Luck, or was it some sort of skill he had not shown before?

As he wandered back into the clearing, he would call out to the hunter from the earth below as he waved. "Down here kind sir."

Well, that went rather well. "Fair travels to you hunter." Hul said his farewells to the man as he picked up another sack, slung it over his shoulder, and began heading towards the monastery once again. This was going to be a long day...

Chapter 1: Cold. Alone. Where The Monsters Belong.

It's so cold...so cold and so alone.

::Suprisingly her already pale lips were even paler in this temperature. And as cute as they were with their tinge of green, one could tell she was freezing. Her stained white nurses dress, and blood spilled nurses cap seemed to vanish in the the flurry of snow. She kept a smile on her face despite the unhappiness. Deep inside of her perhaps part of her just wanted to smile...and part of her didnt.

On her back was her syringe, it was a good 3ft long when closed, with an additional foot for the actual needle point. Her gloved hands shivered as she tried to hold the gauss strap she had made for the giant medical instrument, and the green leaky liquid within it had long since frozen over. Mary was what they called her. But her full name was Bloody Mary. And her words, like the snow flakes fell softly on the empty tundra. They were miles on miles away from the nearest signs of life. Truly...alone.

A few seconds afterward a second voice spoke up. This voice was older and held a tinge of a foriegn accent from some unknown place.::

Perfect...zhis is the sort of place vhere monsters belong!

::He shouted those two final words as he stomped his right foot in the snow. In the heavy blizzard it was difficult to see anything, even something 2ft ahead of you, evne if it is dressed in white. It was perhaps his red hair, and his multi-lense glasses that made him stand out...maybe it was his greyish labcoat which mirrored Mary's in that it was covered in stains. Or perhaps it was just the 6ft tube which was strapped to his back, and which he lugged. Whatever it was, he stuck out in the mess of snow. And so did he words. They echoed through the empty field of snow for god only knows how long. The Doctor was indeed quite unhappy. His face showed pain, not of the physical sort, but of the heart. He would probably cry...if he had a heart.

Mary's voice was heard sheepishly again.::

Why...?

::The Doctor was prompt to respond::

Zhe cold has a unique effeckt on the zhe body. It pullz it into itzelf, making it search for varmth...Vhe huddle onto ourzelfves like sheep, zhis place iz inhozpitable to others. And it iz cold...Zhe perfect place to be alone...

::Mary was silent, her eyes simpy shifted toward the ground as they walked in silence. Something...was visible up ahead. Something...which looked much less than human...and was walking toward the group.::

---
14 Hours Ago...
---

::M4X was very much alive, as alive as a toaster is when you push the bread down in it. Without fear or emotion he gazed forward at what seemed like endless clouds as he was flew ever forward. And in his left eye, filling his view screen was a status report, which read as follows::

Total System Functionality Remaining: 14%
Nanotech Generator...0% Functionality
Weapons Drive...0% Functionality
Combat Records...Inaccessable
X System...Stabilized
Guidance Systems...Disattached...
Personel, Lifeform and Identity Records...Corrupt...
Armor and Shielding...35%
Nanomesh Skin...15% Remaining...

::Needless to say, in Aria, back on the Rotech design table of M4X was found in this situation there would be dire needs for repair. Infact if he was a living being...now would likely be the time to start seeing flashbacks of your life...

It was about then that the final diagnostic completed, and revealed an even more dire situation.::

Graviton Generator Heat Ratio at Maximum...Emergency System Shutdown in...5 seconds...

::These could very well be the final moments of M4X's existance. His face was emotionless. Not fear, no anything. He did not accept his fate no more than he denied it. He had no emotion, he simply watched. Knowing full well that the moment the Graviton Generator, his power source, shut down...was the very moment his full wieght would return and he would meet the ground.::

Graviton Generator Emergency Shutdown Activated.

::The clouds were gone. The ground came into view. A beautiful white ground, painted from edge to edge in plush snow. A blizzard filled the area, cooling him even as he was being systematically shutdown. And this ground...it was getting larger by the second. Fully stocked M4X wieghed somewhere in the nieghborhood of 300lbs. As of now, his wieght was closer to 180 pounds. He fell like a boulder.

It took all of 23 seconds for him to fall a mile down, and strike the ground with a sickening crunch. Countless parts and servo's shattered and tore, but he felt no pain. His wieght and momentum struck solid stone in much the way a rubber ball strikes concrete. And M4X quite literally bounced off the ground, another 360 ft into the air.

His metallic body was tossed like a rag doll and soon struck the ground yet again, this time streaking a crater in the snow, and leaving him face up, broken...and beaten. He gazed straight up into the sky, yet still emotionless. Dead to the world. His view screen began to fill with grains and static as his eyes faded from their usual brilliant violet to black. His final words barely audible over the sound of the wind and the static in his voice.::

Oh...h-h-how the mi-i-i-i-i-i-ighty...have...fallen....