The Ramblings of a Mad Man…

Sometimes an acorn is just an acorn. However, sometimes it holds the power to bring on the end of the world as we know it. Believe it? I wouldn’t have. Up until it happened, that is. I was just another squirrelkin, packing away rations for the long cold winter months deep within my tree dwelling. Closing my eyes I can still see it, sitting back in my reclining chair, my feet warmed by the embers in the hearth. My only worries in those days were merely which tea I would have with my acorn pancakes with mulberry jam. We’d have our hard winters; those that would last longer than others, our storehouses would run dangerously low. Alas, it was one of those winters when that fateful day fell upon Burrowhaven. With every day, our rations dwindled, and our worry grew.

On that day, the day of the destruction, we were left with a single acorn. This acorn, if we had known then what we know now, we would have just ventured into the depths of the snow to search for anything we could find. That was not how the events unfolded. The hour was late, and the rumble in my stomach had hit. I had gone a few days without anything, as the last nut remained. Eyeing it, I decided to just enjoy it, and deal with the fallout in the morning. The acorn looked a little off. The top, gnarled and twisted, the bottom cracked and dark in color, a battle began deep inside me, my stomach and mind struggling on if I’d go hungry. I wish my stomach had lost that battle.

Slowly, my arm raised above the table in the center of my humble kitchen. Chisel in hand, I popped the top off the, honestly, fairly grotesque looking acorn (I was hungry!) Slowly, the table began to shake, the nut seemingly leading the way, pushing energy down into the very roots of my tree. Stepping backwards, I bumped into a picture of my long gone parents. Falling to the ground, the frame broke, and from behind the picture fell an amulet of an acorn entangled in a circular wreath of vines and leaves. The center of the amulet began to pulse, the light growing brighter. From the table a loud screech came from within the core of the circular nut. With a loud crack, the nut exploded splitting the center of my tree, the top exploding and sending shards of wood into the top grounds of Burrowhaven. Exposed to the outside, blistering winter winds, the large crater where my tree had once stood, old and proud, a large red beam of light shot to the heavens. I could feel the amulet in my hands pulsating with every second, faster and faster.

Deep inside my head, a calm took over me. “Run.. “ Looking around, I could see no one. “Get out, now, to the depths of Burrowhaven, flee.” Sharrds began to fall from the sky, igniting in mid air, and spearing into the ground melting the ice and snow around the upper perimeter of the Burrow’s depths. I jumped for my exit into the towns tunnels and made it just before a limb from the trees very tops materialized as if the Gods above had put it there, slamming down onto the hole, sealing me in to the tunnel. Trapped, the darkness overtook me, the sound of falling wood above, and the smell of fire and brimstone leeching in with the only air that could make its way through the cracks around the heavy branches that blocked the entrance to my tunnel. I turned towards the lights of the Burrowhaven town center. It had been a long time since I had entered the limits of the town… They had to know, they had to be warned about the rain of fire above.

Every day I’m going to put fingers to keys and pound out 500-600 words. They may or may not be a continuous thing, but I doubt they will. I just want to brain storm and get my mind working, explore my creativity/etc.

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Staring out over the blackened field of burnt, mangled corpses, Caelem’s nostrils filled with the putrid scent of boiling blood, singed hair, and broiled flesh. He had come as fast as his horse would take him, but the village succumbed to the fiery inferno faster than the hoofs of Raelim could take him. Under-hoof the sound of breaking bones was deafening to Caelem, the very bones breaking could be that of his friends, or family. Slowly, he inched his way towards his child hood dwelling, moving carefully with all his senses alert in case the invaders lay in wait for any survivors to make their way back to the charred village center to search for survivors.

Rounding the final corner, hilt of sword in hand, Caelem’s eyes landed upon the rubble of his family’s home and his heart sank to the blackest depths of his inside. Falling from atop Raelim he clenched the bones before him, the embers still alight, drying the tears from his welling eyes as they evaporated upon hitting the smoldering ground. Caelem’s armor, unscathed, protected his shaking legs from the fire beneath as he reached towards the Heavens vowing Justice for those wronged this day. Suddenly, he heard a bone snap from behind him, near the tree line about 30 feet away. Wrapping his gloved fingers around the hilt of his sword, he readied himself to thrust at the invader who laid in wait to dispose of him like he had of his Parents. Patiently he waited, the unknown thing growing ever closer, trying hard to not be heard but failing miserably. The time was upon him, some sort of vengeance for the wrong that must be made right. Letting loose of its scabbard, he swung back, the cold steel of his sword splitting the air in half.

As fast as the air flew past the sharpened blade, the skull of the Gnoll Mercenary put up little resistance, and blood spurting corpse fell to the ground in seconds. He recognized his foe, and wondered why the mercenary had gone through the lengths to come back to the village, unless he was the intended mark. His mind racing from the events of the past hour, it all became clear to him. The burning village, the mercenary, and the dark glowing eyes peering at him from the depths of the woods, his family, his friends, they all died to be a sick trap to entangle him in. Mercenaries are greedy, that means they travel in small groups, the fewer the people the bigger the cut. By his count there were 3 pairs of eyes bearing down on him, growing bigger as they make their way through the tree line to him. After wiping the thick gnoll’s blood from his sword, he pulls a dagger from his boot and runs full speed towards the entrance to the forest.