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Here’s another scene fragment from Episode 2.  I hope you like it!

Just a note, this is still very rough. I read through it and pulled out a few big mistakes, but you will find typos and things that do not quite make sense.  Just roll with it!

For the entire first Episode and other posts from Episode 2, see this link: https://aaron-brander.com/tag/shattered/

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DARK, MENACING laughter chilled Eli’s spine and stopped him dead in his tracks.  Next to him, Jyri looked deflated. The long years suddenly visible on his countenance.

The swarm of goblins came to a stuttering halt, ranging around the courtyard and trapping Eli and Jyri against the temple. Their wailing cacophony assaulted his ears and drowned out the temple’s still ringing bell.

From the west, the goblin horde parted, and through the gap slid a nightmare.  Goblins were a smelly beast, their sweat, grime, and the juice and grit from past meals combining into a pungent perfume that Eli could smell from where he stood.  But the creature that came forth now was preceded by a stench so foul, it knocked the breath from him.

The laughter came again, and with it, an icy wind of sorrow and despair washed over Eli. His body was unwilling to move and attack or to turn and flee.

The thing was taller than Eli and slender.  It did not so much walk, as glide sinuously over the glittering courtyard toward Eli and Jyri.  Its body was hidden in a billowing, black cloak. The hood cast a deep shadow over its face, but the outline of it’s skeletal face was visible beneath the glow of its red eyes.  It was terrifying.

JYRI STARED uncomprehendingly at the stalking nightmare.  How could a dreadmach have returned?  Surely they had all been wiped out at the Battle of Utand when justice and peace prevailed over the evil of the world.  And yet, the dreadmach was there, as was a horde of goblins the size of which he had only previously seen at the Utand.

His powers had failed him, and he had no more fight in him.  He could trust only to Balim, and hope that he would provide a way out of this predicament, because there was little he could do to fight the dreadmach.

“Benson Jyri,” the thing spoke, its voice as oily and sinuous as its movements, “I have been told much about you.  I have desired to devour your soul and send you to serve my Lord, Memnon, since I was told of my task.”

The dreadmach had crossed most of the tiled, temple floor and was but a few steps from Jyri.  He glared down at the dreadmach, his eyes unwavering as he met the nightmare’s blazing, red eyes. The dreadmach reached out with its hand, the cloak falling back from its hand, uncovering a mangled mockery of a human hand; bent, broken, and gnarled with long, sharp claws.

Jyri grabbed Eli’s hand and took a knee, forcing Eli down with him.  The dreadmach reached forward, the icy blast of sorrow emanating from it pushed Eli towards the welcoming inane of death.

The claws brushed against Jyri’s hand, before caressing his face almost lovingly. Then the air pulsed, a bright white flash seared through Eli’s consciousness, and he knew no more.

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Here’s another scene fragment from Episode 2.  I hope you like it!

Just a note, this is still very rough. I read through it and pulled out a few big mistakes, but you will find typos and things that do not quite make sense.  Just roll with it!

For the entire first Episode and other posts from Episode 2, see this link: https://aaron-brander.com/tag/shattered/

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JYRI LOOKED about in disgust.  Was this, then, the price of freedom?  A flock of sheep where once there were lions?  The calm had been nice for a generation, but the storm had arrived.  Jyri heard a familiar twang, and looked up to see a flight of arrows heading towards him.  He lifted his staff and willed his god-given powers of righteousness and justice into the weapon.  A blast of wind from Jyri’s staff disrupted many of the arrows, but the shrieks and cries of the wounded told him that some still got through to accomplish their vile work.

“Get to the temple!” Jyri cried, trying one more time to get the sheep moving.  There was no more time to play shepherd.  Jyri dashed towards the goblins and prayed the villagers figured it out and fled to safety.

As he ran, his battle chant spilled from his lips.

“Balim nu doct.  Balim nu molatting.  Solun imort belom, troi memnock dor faruck Balim!”

In the common tongue, it meant: “Balim is peace.  Balim is righteousness.  Through my arms, let evil know Balim is justice!”

To Jyri, the words felt like the embrace of a lover after a prolonged absence — or so he imagined, being a celibate monk after all.
He felt Balim’s power rush through him and transform his as he ran.  Jyri was a large man be any standards, but when Balim’s justice needed meting out, he grew to the size of a small mountain.

As a fisherman in a small rowboat looks upon the sea with fear and loathing as a tempest hits and the sea rages, so too did the goblins quake at Jyri’s approach.  No one had warned them that Jryi Benson, Balim’s Justice on Earth, would be crashing down upon them this day.

It would be their doom, for Jyri felt no mercy as his staff cracked down, pulverizing two goblins and knocking a dozen to the ground.  He waded in, knocking the startled creatures to the ground with each swing of his mighty staff.  But the goblin’s numbers started to bear down on him.  With the momentum of his charge spent, the goblins worked to slide in behind Jyri to encircle him.  Though each strike from the large, orange clad monk took down multiple goblins, there were just too many.  The little biters slipped sword thrusts past his defenses and nicked him.  Blood started to flow down from his legs and mix with the offal of dozens of destroyed goblins.

Jyri knew he needed to disengage from the fight and get back to the temple where its defenses and Maia could help him.  He spun in a circle with his staff held out low.  Four goblins were knocked back and a fifth, shorter goblin had its head staved in.

With room for a moment, Benson picked his unfortunate target.  Green Gummer was a model goblin: short, squat and surly.  Its moss-colored skin had a sickly pallor that was not completely attributed to its skin color, but may have something to do with its rotted teeth.  Black, patchy hair stuck out from under its misshapen helmet, which sported a blunt spike on top.  An equally battered breastplate covered its skinny chest.  In its hands, it hefted what appeared to be a sledge hammer, but with a vaguely pointed face where it would normally be flat.

Jyri noticed this all in a flash of insight.  He felt no remorse or recognition, he merely needed a target for his righteous fury.  Jyri snapped the staff above his head.  He took a deep breath, sent a quick, silent prayer up to Balim for strength, and smashed the staff down directly on the helmeted head of Green Gummer.  The squat goblin exploded in slimy gibbets of body parts.  As Jyri’s staff slammed into the ground, it sent waves of earth spreading out from the epicenter of the strike, knocking goblins into the air all around him.

Jyri did not hesitate, he broke into a run back towards the temple before the first goblin crashed back to the earth.  In the distance, Jyri descried the other goblin groups as they gained the edge of town.  The howls of enraged goblins behind him spurred him in his retreat.  The defenses of the temple were his only hope now.

ELI MAIA had sent one of the young men up to the bell, and it now rang with a desperate pealing that underscored the panic felt in the sanctuary below.  Maia stood outside the doors, his wooden staff in his hand, and herded the running villagers into the darkness of the temple.

The flow of villagers lessened, and still Maia had not seen his parents. He prayed to Balim that they had found a place to hide from the swarm of goblins.  And yet…and yet, perhaps it was best if they had been killed swiftly.  The world was changing. Maia could feel it happening in the air.  The peace they had known the last generation was not just ending, it was being shattered.  There were few people equipped to deal with this change and if this was just the tip of the shift, as Maia was beginning to fear, many would lament living through the desolation.

The last villager ran past Maia, and he turned to see Jyri Benson fleeing from a giant horde of goblins.  He slammed the door shut on the temple, and heard the locking mechanism rumble into place.  It was now just he and Jyri and their belief in Balim that stood before the goblins.

Jyri slid to a halt beside Eli, winked at him, and turned back to face the goblins while he leaned panting on staff.

“You know, young cub, I have not had this much fun in years.  It is lamentable that we were caught unawares, but we will crush these beasts for what they have done, and then we will find out what the devil is going on,” Jyri spoke sideways to Eli while not wavering from gazing a the goblins.  Eli did not know how to react to that.

The horde of goblins was an unstoppable flood of green limbs, gnashing teeth, and howling rage as it streamed into the courtyard.

Jyri raised his arms and intoned solemly, “Vintin sar malincardum”.

Nothing happened.

Jyri looked around, bewildered.

He spoke again, this time with angst edging his words. “Vintin sar malincardum!”

Again, nothing.

Jyri looked at Eli, shrugged, and said, “I guess the temple’s defenses won’t be helping us.  This just got a lot tougher. Get ready, we’ll have to do this the hard way.

Jyri picked up his staff, gave voice to his war cry, and ran to meet the raging green wall of goblins.

And then he stopped.  Balim’s power had not infused him. He remained merely Jyri, a large, overweight monk.

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Here’s another scene fragment from Episode 2.  I hope you like it!

Just a note, this is still very rough. I read through it and pulled out a few big mistakes, but you will find typos and things that do not quite make sense.  Just roll with it!

For the entire first Episode and other posts from Episode 2, see this link: https://aaron-brander.com/tag/shattered/

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JYRI WATCHED and waited, the shock of seeing goblins in the world again was wearing off and leaving behind a good number of questions.  The most immediate was about to be answered.  How much had the villagers forgotten of the old ways?  The bell should bring them all running to the temple with weapons in hand.  Jyri was sure the other planned defensive measure had been forgotten.  Few had kept to the military traditions, for what was the need?

The villagers were achingly slow to respond.  Jyri saw them emerge from buildings across the expanse of the village and look around slowly like so many dumb sheep.  If they had heard the screams from the fields they gave no sign, and from street level he doubted they could yet see the smoke.

Jyri looked again to the fields and saw there were now three groups of goblins rampaging towards the city from different sides.  Two had paused to burn the crops.  Benson Jyri assumed those poor farmers in the fields had fallen like wheat before the scythe.

The third group of goblins had no farmers or fields to distract them from their dread purpose.  They were charging along the main road and would reach the town in mere minutes.

“Damn,” cursed Jyri.

Outnumbered three hundred to one and a half, he would prefer the villagers come to him.  The temple had defenses of its own.  But if he stood on the balcony and waited for the villagers, there would not be many left, if any at all, for him to protect.

Jyri took a deep breath and shook his head.  He should have been careful what he wished for.  It looked like he was to have all of the fighting he could handle.  With a rueful chuckle, he launched himself over the balcony.

He dropped like a stone and landed on one knee with his back bent and his arms outstretched.  Tile cracked and dust billowed up around him as he stood and surveyed the task before him.  His life’s purpose had returned.  He had innocent people to protect and evil creatures to pummel.

The man once know as Balim’s Judgement ran towards the knot of confused villagers to try and get them moving.

MAIA LET out a surprised gasp as Benson leaped off of the tower and crashed to the courtyard below.  He had three agonizing seconds to wonder how he could fend off the attack without his master’s aid before he saw Benson sprinting down the road towards the villagers.  A white light was building around Jyri as he ran. It must have been some magical aura as Maia could hear Jyri’s cries as if he was standing next to him.

“Run! Run for the temple!”

Maia could see the villagers look around alarmed, yet they were slow to react and flee for safety.  Further on, the goblins had reached the edge of town with their frenetic dash down the road.  Maia forgot all about the bell he was supposed to be ringing as he watched a group of goblins stop and load their vicious, small bows.

As the arrows rained down around the hapless villagers, they finally awoke to the danger.  For some, it was too late.  The murderous arrows found flesh with a sickening squelch.

Maia watched the tide of villagers turn and start running towards the temple.  With a start, he recalled his charge.  He gave the bell one last frantic tug and then ran headlong down the stairs in a mad dash to pull the villagers into the temple.