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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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The Gorka

Traversing northeast, following along the banks of the white capped Koda River. Three soldiers from EastVale adorned in chainmail with large wooden triangular shields drudge slowly in the brisk morning air. They’ve been tasked with a routine scouting mission of the region. Following a well beaten trail that leads them through large conifers that dominate the base of the Gorka Mountains, the lead soldier picks up his pace to a run. The suns rays fight to shine through dense blue firs and deep green pines. Struggling to keep pace, the two soldiers come around a large blue spruce to a clearing. The trees have opened up to expose peaks as the sun sets the mountainside ablaze in a beautiful golden red. Both soldiers squinting and adjusting their eyes from the sun to see the third soldier as they begin to approach him.

Slightly out of breathe, a slender dark complexioned man with light green eyes says “what gives lieutenant?”

Snapping quickly, a slightly shorter man with dirty blonde hair and a scar halfway across his forehead says “Private Meldon, don’t address the lieutenant that way.”

“At ease men,” Lieutenant Yardley says in a calm voice. “This is what its all about.” lifting his arms out wide, still looking at the mountainside as he absorbs the suns early rays upon his face. Seconds drift by as he remains completely still. Turning to face the other two soldiers. Lieutenant Yardley’s grizzled looking face brightens as his thick black mustache raises with a smile. His blue eyes soften in the expression, as the stocky bald headed man says “men, this can be a cruel world. So when you find beauty, please take time to soak it in.” With that, he splits between the two lower ranking soldiers back toward the beaten path and continues northeast.

Arriving at a fork in the trailhead, the Koda River bends northwest as the beaten path continues to follow its ascent deeper into the mountains. A smaller, less used path breaks off east disappearing into the foliage of the conifers.

“So, Meldon. Where would you like to go?” Lieutenant Yardley asks as the privates eyes become wide.

Private James Meldon looks back and forth from trail to trail. Not giving much time for a response, the brown eyes of the sergeant narrows, as the scar on his forehead moves closer to his dirty blonde brows.

Sergeant Sutcliff snaps out “The lieutenant asked you a question, private!”

Before Meldon could muster a response, Yardley says “Damn! Sutcliff. Are you gonna berate Meldon all day? That and remind him of his rank too? Because I remember when you were a private.” A smile forms under his bushy mustache, “those were some ugly times.”

“This is his first mission, outside of the tower Lieutenant.” Sergeant Sutcliff apologetically responds. “I figured I would keep him on his toes? So he knows how serious these scouting missions are.”

“I’m sure he knows Sutcliff. Growing up in EastVale, we have all heard the stories of the Gorka. But those are kids stories, meant to keep us from running too far away.” Yardley proclaims jovially. “So, shall we take the common path that you will walk for the next couple years while stationed here? Or walk into the Gorka Mountains that has been used to frighten you as a child?”

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Pausing, to look at both the higher ranking members, Meldon knows this to be some sort of a test. Not wanting to look weak in front of his superiors Meldon strides confidently by them. Following the lightly beaten path, Meldon leads his superiors into the Gorka Mountains.

With the stories from his youth swirling within his mind, Meldon moves forward nervously. Fear sinking deeper in his heart with any noise he hears if he can’t immediately rationalize why it was made. Adding to his fear is the large conifers. Their limbs stretch out as they fight each other for sunlight. Some have grown so far that they have begun to embed themselves into the neighboring trees. Making a living wall, that is hampering his sight while increasing his heart rate. Realizing now his pace has quickened, he turns around in a panic. Not seeing his fellow scouting members brings a shiver up his spine. He quickly begins back tracking in hopes of finding them.

Coming around a cypress that has forced the trail to bend around it, Private Meldon begins to hear a slight mumbling of voices. As the mumblings turn to laughter and the laughter into broken conversations, James begins to calm himself knowing he’s no longer alone. While waiting on his fellow soldiers, snapping and breaking of limbs can be heard north of the trail. Just beyond the tree line that forms a green and blue barrier wall. His heart spiking, he knows he must do his duty and investigate. With a deep breathe the Private calms his nerves. Courage of knowing his fellow scouts to be within an earshot, he approaches the dense tree line and peers through in an attempt to see what could be scurrying about. Striding along the tree line to keep pace with what is causing all the noise. Meldon lifts his military issued shield and forces his way through the many low hanging branches. He tucks his slender frame in behind the wider triangular shield. His progress becomes quicker as the limbs give way to flow around his shoulders. Suddenly, he loses his balance from a low branch, catching his ankle. Stumbling and falling face down, Meldon quickly pushes himself up to his feet to see the back of a black bear walking on its hind legs through the thick pines due north of him. Startled by the sight of the bear—but in no immediate danger—Meldon takes in the beauty of seeing his first bear. As he takes in the sight, he notices something strange about the bear. A sinking feeling sets in as he realizes this black bear doesn’t appear to have legs of its own. Rather, it’s being supported by two thick red armored legs. Crashing back through the low limbs, Meldon frantically runs to find his superiors.

Out of breathe and frantically trying to explain what he saw moments ago. Meldon can’t complete a sentence and is cut off by Sutcliff…

“What are you saying Private Meldon?”

“We can’t understand you?”

Sutcliff glancing at Yardley, “Lieutenant, this boy has frightened himself dumb!”

“Sutcliff!! You’re making this worse. Give Meldon some room.” Yardley approaches the private slowly. Placing a hand on Meldon’s shoulder, in a calm voice looking into his frightened eyes, he asks “Take a deep breathe Meldon. Now tell me exactly what you saw?”

Not leaving any details out. Meldon tells Sutcliff and the Lieutenant everything that has transpired. Even his thoughts during the encounter. Sutcliff laughs multiples times while Meldon recites his feelings. Those laughs become harder while hearing about the crashing and falling through the trees. The fear on Meldon’s face while explaining the encounter with the black bear almost had Sutcliff fall over with laughter. Meanwhile, Yardley’s face never changes. He listens intently to every part and detail the

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frightened Private says. Watching his every hand movement and facial expression. Only cutting James story short after hearing about the thick red armored legs.

The description of the red legs abruptly stops Sutcliff’s laughing as Yardley turns to face him. “Are you sure Private Meldon? Is that what you really saw? Sutcliff, unconvinced by the story continues to question the young private.

Yardley in a clear and direct tone says “Sutcliff. You heard him as clear as I did. You can see the fear in his face. I know you remember the first time you laid eyes on one. I assure you Meldon is telling the truth. He saw a Gorka.”

After hearing the name Gorka, Meldon quickly spits out “What now? Do we go back and report?”

Sutcliff begins laughing as Yardley stares down Meldon with a very serious look on his grizzled face to say “We hunt it down and we kill it.”

Walking through the dense forest on the trail of the Gorka, the soldiers easily make their way through the already pushed and broken low laying limbs. Suddenly they all freeze, as Yardley raises his right hand. Bringing it down half way in a fist, he points forward as they all kneel and begin advancing slowly toward a clearing of the forest. Kneeling down between two large outstretched conifers in meter high grass at the edge of the clearing. They lay eyes on four Gorka. Their inside arms extended, hands placed on the shoulder of the one standing in front. Completing a square in a small open plain. Beyond the Gorka, the plain ends as a large cave entrance has been carved into the deep red rocks of the escarpment.

“Why are they standing that way?” A confused James Meldon says in a low voice.

Yardley responds “We believe that’s how they communicate. We don’t have any reports of hearing them talk.”

“So what’s the plan? Sutcliff interjects, as he begins to stand. His eyes fixed on the Gorka, Sutcliff drops his shield to replace it with a short sword on his right hip. With the right hand pulling a long sword from the sheathe on his back.

“like I already said. We kill them all.” Yardley’s voice becomes grim as a look of focus crosses his mustached face. “Men, ready yourselves. And if they try to flee. DO NOT let them reach their cave!”

Walking out of the tall grass and into the clearing of the plain. Lieutenant Yardley is focused with a calm look upon his grizzled face with a long sword and a large triangular shield. Sergeant Sutcliff and Private Meldon are flanking his position as they close the distance to ten meters. The Gorka begin to break from their trance like state and turn to face the soldiers. Holding their ground, two Gorka holding clubs in both hands that resemble branches of trees nearby. One Gorka with a large mace and the last holding a spear. Closing to within five meters now. Meldon can feel his heart pounding in his chest as if it’s trying to escape through his chainmail. Thinking of the stories from his youth of Gorka being three meters tall and two meters wide. As he approaches, seeing now they are barely half that height, he calms his mind. Still, these foes are much thicker than his lean build.

Almost within striking distance Meldon takes a quick look over his right shoulder to his fellow soldiers as a loud “thud” makes his heart skip a beat. A rock ricochets off of Yardley’s wooden shield. With the

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breaking of silence, Yardley explodes forward. Coming through the center, Lieutenant Yardley splits the Gorka into two groups. Taking a mace hit to his large shield, he forces that Gorka out wide and singles out a club wielding Gorka. Fainting an overhead swing, Yardley with years of training thrusts straight out to bury the tip of his long sword into the Gorka’s right shoulder. But before he can retreat, the Gorka retaliates by slamming the tree limbed club into the shoulder of his long sword arm. Side stepping with the blow, Yardley’s eyes widen as a wooden spear tip crosses right before his face. Watching the spear retract, Yardley has to grip his shield tight as a blow crashes into his shield to leave his shoulder aching in pain…

Meldon watching Yardley split the Gorka knows he needs to move. Battle has started and this is when he needs to trust the training the EastVale military has given him. Shadowing the Lieutenants movements, Meldon measures up the off balanced Gorka that has been pushed backwards by Yardley’s shield. He scores a hit as the Gorka’s thick naturally armored body absorbs the blow. Pulling out and back, Meldon stabs quickly to puncture through the thick red plate like armor. Unfazed by the privates strike, the mace wielding Gorka slams his weapon heavy into Yardley’s shield…

Parrying a club swing with the short sword in his off hand, the duel wielding Sutcliff pushes a blow wide. He follow’s with a precision thrust of his long sword that pierces through a lower plate of the belly. Stepping back to measure his opponent, Sutcliff side steps to get the Gorka to move then stabs a slow long sword swing to measure the Gorka’s defenses. But before he could lunge in a spear stabs through the chainmail covering his left thigh. Stunned and before he can react a one meter branch lands heavy into his chest knocking him to the ground…

With the mace wielding Gorka’s focus still on the lieutenant, Meldon takes a large stride forward, dropping his weight down with a heavy overhead swing as his long sword slices through the black bear cape. The blow crashes through the thick plates of the right shoulder of the Gorka. Reversing the momentum, Meldon thrusts upward, but the attack is deflected away by the Gorka’s heavily armored right arm. Two quick steps brings the Gorka around to face Meldon as the bear cape falls to the ground. Before the private can step back, a large mace hits him solidly on his right shoulder. Stumbling as he tries not to fall, Meldon sticks the bottom tip of his triangular shield into the ground to help aid him from falling. Quickly pivoting off the shield, the private twists his body around as his feet follow beneath him, all before the Gorka could strike at him again…

Quickly peering over his shield, Yardley notices the mace wielding Gorka turn away from him. So he brings his attention to the club wielding Gorka in front and the Gorka with the spear, that’s just out of range to his right. Pushing the center, Yardley knows he has tactfully split the battlefield and put his men in a better chance to survive. But holding this position, the veteran lieutenant knows it will put him in the most danger. On comes the Gorka with a two handed shoulder high swing of the club, that Yardley absorbs into his shield. He quickly counter thrusts and slices above the Gorka’s large left eye. The slice leaves a stream of blood dripping off of the Gorka’s face. Twisting and pushing the shield out wide, he parries the club and forces the Gorka to pivot. Yardley stabs down and through the exoskeleton armor protecting the Gorka’s thick thigh as a heavy backhand whips Yardley’s head as far to the right as it can go…

Dazed and laying on his back, Sergeant Sutcliff is down but doesn’t panic. Gripping both his swords tight he brings them up to defend his body. Seeing the Gorka with the spear to his left advance forward, he rolls to his right as a club collides in the ground where he was just laying. Quickly sitting up while the

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Gorka is pulling the club from the ground, Sutcliff stabs out with his short sword. The thrust pierces through the heavily armored left calf, dropping the Gorka to its knees. The Gorka places its left hand on the ground in an attempt to getup. Sutcliff, from a seated position, leans back lifting his legs and spins on his butt—rotating himself counterclockwise. As Sutcliff’s feet line up with the Gorka, his long sword trails behind in a full swing. The swing slices the Gorka’s forearm cleanly off just below the joint of the elbow. The Gorka writhes in pain and drops to the ground face down. Just as the sergeant tries to catch his breath, a bloody tipped spear thrust comes over the back of the downed Gorka forcing Sutcliff on his back once more…

Happy that the pivot off the shield was successful, Meldon poises himself as the Gorka squares up to him. Realizing he’s too far away now for help, the private takes a deep breath and an unsteady swallow. The Gorka comes in hard with an overhead swing that Meldon steps into to block with his shield. The impact of the blow stops Meldon in his tracks, and doesn’t allow for a counter attack. So the private waits for the Gorka to attack again. This time a waist high swing that stings as it bounces off of Meldon’s shield. A second waist high swing forces Meldon to take a couple steps sideways. Knowing the Gorka has to close the distance after those couple of steps, Meldon feels he has the Gorka’s timing down. Pausing long enough for the two steps, Meldon circles to his right as the anticipated blow barely misses. Thrusting in a two stab combination, low then high, both Meldon’s counterstrikes register hits. Meldon continues to circle, gaining the back of the humanoid. His eyes light up in delight to deliver another well practiced combo, curtesy of his military training…

The young privates delight turns to ash in his stomach in an instant as he notices he’s not the one with the upper hand—it’s the Gorka who’s timed Meldon’s movements. He realizes too late that the Gorka wasn’t spinning with him or trying to keep up. The Gorka had baited the private and spun the opposite direction. Trailing behind the Gorka’s spin, Meldon sees his large mace in a two handed full strength swing. All Meldon can do is hold fast his shield as he watches the mace getting closer…

Spitting out a mouth full of blood, Yardley notices the Gorka doesn’t advance. Just holding the makeshift club, standing very still. Yardley faints in and stops to watch a weak counter swing from the Gorka as it can’t plant to add any strength. Attempting to balance on a single leg, the momentum of the swing causes the Gorka to rotate sideways. Yardley seizes the opportunity. Taking a quick step forward to stab under the left arm and into the unprotected armpit. The lieutenant doesn’t stop pushing his blade until the Gorka’s body goes limp and crumbles to the grassy plain. Yardley retracts his sword from the lifeless body, blood coating the length of the blade. He then turns and runs in one fluid movement…

Seeing his own blood drip from the tip of the wooden spear only millimeters above his face, Sutcliff knows he can’t stay on his back long. His assailant now over top of the face downed Gorka, the Sergeant can’t get to his feet before the Gorka skewers him. As the spear tip closes in, Sutcliff attempts to parry the blow wide of his body with his longsword. Immense pain takes hold of Sutcliff as the spear pierces through his left bicep, pinning his arm to the ground. He screams out in agony as the Gorka grinds the spear head into his arm. Waves of pain shoot throughout the entirety of his body. Gritting through the pain, Sutcliff feels blindly through the grass on his right side, looking for the longsword he dropped seconds ago. Watching the Gorka step over him. Stopping at his waist, they lock eyes. In the gaze, Sutcliff can see the squirming of his own reflection in the deep blackness of the large protruding eyes. Pain begins to subside as the silence becomes the calm. The Gorka pulls the spear from the ground,

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releasing his arm to raise it above his chest. No fear crossing the sergeants mind—only clarity—knowing he has lost and this will soon end…

Laying on his back with ringing in his ears from the blow of the mace. Meldon peers through a cracked piece of the shield to see the Gorka bring down another vicious mace swing. The swing splinters further down the center of the shield to the straps of his left arm. Searching to his right for his long sword, Meldon reaches out as a third blow forces his left forearm down, into his chest stealing the air within his lungs. Gasping for oxygen another blow slams down as pain streaks from his left forearm. Bracing his right hand against the back of the shield, yet another blow slams the shield down, forcing his hand and the shield into his forehead. Blinking and squinting, Private Meldon’s vision becomes blurred as streams of blood flow down from a large cut on his forehead. All sound is muffled as pain begins to register throughout his body. No longer able to keep his arms up, Meldon drops the splintered and broken shield to his chest. Watching the Gorka through blood stained eyes creep toward the top part of his body. He struggles with every agonizing breath as any movement strikes pain through his battered body. The thought of crying out crosses his mind but the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the weight of the chainmail and shield bearing down on his chest becomes to much. All he can do is watch the deep red of the semi circular mountain stone, that has been affixed on a shaft, lift high above his face, as the Gorka lines up to end this skirmish between Human and Gorka…

Waiting for the spear head to enter his body, Sutcliff begins to close his eyes. Choosing the blackness of the backs of his eyelids over the face of this Gorka as the last thing he sees before leaving the lands of KorsVale. An extremely loud “smack” forces his eyelids open. Seeing a blur of Lieutenant Yardley pass over him as the Gorka with the spear seems to be affixed to his shield. All sounds and movements are slow to return, until a familiar voice can be heard.

“TRENT, MOVE YOUR ASS!!!” Yardley shouts to his belabored sergeant.

With Yardley’s voice resonating through his mind, Sutcliff is brought back to the sounds of battle all around him. Watching the Gorka slide across the ground with Yardley in quick pursuit. Sutcliff quickly looks to his left, seeing his short sword just beyond the fingers of his left hand. Reaching for it, only pain registers as no movement comes from his left arm. Feeling a strong hand grip completely around the calf of his right leg, Sutcliff looks to his feet as he’s drug a short distance. Looking up, now in front of the one armed Gorka. Pausing for an instant at the sight of the Gorka, Sutcliff watches as it lifts itself to one knee and reaches out for the club. Rolling to his left side the sergeant kicks at the club then scrambles on his belly looking for any of his weapons. Grabbing the short sword in his right hand Sutcliff rolls to his back as the Gorka comes over him with the club outstretched above his head. His eyes widen, and Trent forces himself from the ground to thrust his short sword into the lower abdomen of the Gorka. The thrust stops the attack as the club falls to the ground. With life fading, the Gorka drops to its knees then falls to its face, pinning Sutcliff’s legs under the immense armored weight of its body…

Before the Gorka finishes sliding on its back, Yardley is above the creature swinging down heavily. The Gorka without its spear can only put its hands up in defense. With each hack cracking the thick exoskeleton armor around its forearms. Yardley begins to smile wickedly seeing progress. Splintering large pieces of the natural armor, the lieutenant becomes energized with each swing. Until the blade embeds deep into the forearms, causing the tip of the long sword to break and fly off. Unrelenting in the assault, Yardley pulls back quickly and thrusts under the defending arms to stab into the throat of the Gorka. Burying the broken blade until the tip is stopped by the ground beneath the creature.

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Loud thuds ring in the air as Yardley turns to see Meldon struggling to defend as a Gorka pummels his shield. Dropping the shield and leaving the broken sword, Yardley sprints as fast as he can to try and aid his private. Scooping up the spear laying next to Sutcliff, he closes the distance as the Gorka positions itself to lay one last ending blow to Private Meldon…

Slowly raising his right hand out in front of his face, Meldon knows he won’t be able to stop the blow from killing him. But it’s all he can muster to at least try to save his life. In motion to deliver the death blow, the Gorka is suddenly thrust forward as a spear head shoots from its chest. Taking one last gasp the creature stumbles then falls out of Meldon’s sight. Lieutenant Yardley now standing over him, extends an arm. Helping Meldon to his feet and looking him over, Yardley says “You will live. Now help Sutcliff and tend to your wounds. We need to get out of here.”

Yardley immediately begins searching the bodies of the Gorka. With each passing second he becomes more irritated and can be heard mumbling slurs. Searching the last Gorka and the furthest from the group, Yardley pauses staring at the entrance of the cave beyond the plain. Then quickly turns to face his soldiers with a visible strain on his grizzled face. Walking toward the two beaten and battered subordinates, Yardley shakes his head multiple times.

“Meldon. Take your armor off. I have a task for you that I would prefer to do myself, but im gonna need to carry Sutcliff…”

Sutcliff interrupts to say “I can walk Lieutenant. I’m fine.”

In a calm direct voice, Yardley say “Sutcliff. I know you’re a proud and strong man, and those wounds will heal, but this is not the time for you to argue.”

They hastily strip off their chainmail, Meldon assists Sutcliff out of his. Yardley informs Meldon of the task that he needs him to do before departing with Sutcliff positioned on his shoulders.

Using a large pine as cover, Private Meldon can no longer hear his fellow soldiers making their way through the forest to his rear. Peering around a large pine tree to see the blood-soaked battlefield, he replays the carnage in his mind as a shiver runs up his spine. As moments pass without any movement the private begins to think this task pointless, like so many the EastVale military has given him over the past year. Lieutenant Yardley never told him how long to wait, just stay and observe, until heading down to rejoin them at the river. Meldon wonders if they made it back to the lightly beaten trail. “How can Gorka track humans so easily?” He thinks to himself. “Why must I stay behind before rejoining them at Koda River?” None of this would have happened if he would have chosen the path next to the river.

Then, movement from the cave entrance catches Meldon’s eyes. As a Gorka comes running out, spending only a second at the battlefield, then returns to the cave. Seconds pass as it reemerges from the cave to stand and point out into the field, where the battle took place and in perfect line to Meldon—still hiding amongst the trees. He watches curiously as the Gorka stands and holds its arm out. A movement in the shadows beyond the Gorka becomes visible as another with a shield comes into view. As it passes the first Gorka holding its arm out, without breaking stride it reaches out to place its hand on its shoulder and slides down the outstretched arm to end at the fingers. The interaction is odd but vaguely similar to what the soldiers witnessed earlier.

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This Gorka seems different from the one it passed as Meldon continues to hold his position. He watches the creature close in to the armor, weapons, and carnage of bodies laid out from the battle. Meldon begins to see obvious differences as this Gorka reaches the first of its kin. The red is much deeper, especially across the armored exoskeleton and face. But what’s truly alarming is the sheer size. This one seems much thicker than the others laying on the ground. As it crosses the battlefield, it stops to pick up the privates broken shield. That’s when Meldon’s heart sinks. His splintered shield half the size of the shield the larger Gorka carries. It would barely be considered a buckler for this creature. Fear begins to spread his body. He sees now that the stories of his youth were true. Watching the Gorka turn to place its back to him, Meldon begins to slowly back peddle deeper into the woods. When the Gorka pulls out what seems to be a large stick with three circular balls. Watching them fall and dangle from three massive chains. That is when Meldon sees the largest flail the young private has ever laid eyes on and turns to flee.

Thrashing in a full sprint through the low brush and limbs of the dense forest floor. Meldon crashes through the wall of tree limbs dividing the forest and a slight clearing of the lightly beaten path. He gains speed as his unencumbered, tall and lean frame is no longer slowed from uneven terrain and low hanging tree limbs. He comes around a bend of the trail to lay eyes on his fellow comrades. Slowing as he passes, taking in deep breathes to gather himself, Meldon keeps pace as he back peddles to see Yardley in full perspiration. He’s baring the weight of a hobbling slow walk of the battered Sutcliff. Gathering himself, Meldon explains what he saw in detail from the moment they left until just now seeing them on the trail. Both his superiors share a chuckle through they’re straining faces as the private stares at them with a look of confusion.

“Well done private” Yardley exclaims, as the laughter subsides to be replaced by a serious look.

Meldon quickly responds “I outran the Gorka sir. There’s no way that Gorka could track me and get to us before we reach the river.”

Yardley completely calm and in a composed voice looks at Meldon to say “this Gorka you saw, is not just a Gorka. It’s a Gorkai…a creature that will hunt us down and kill us. We only killed the basic members of their colony. Now we have an elite soldier that will track us down and easily kill us.”

Meldon begins to say “But I outran it and…”

But Lieutenant Yardley interrupts him to say “Private. It doesn’t matter. What you don’t know is that fighting the Gorka, they leave a scent on you. That the Gorkai can track anywhere. Only the river can save us now.” Private Meldon runs his fingers through his short dark hair, giving his superiors a confused look. Digesting what he was told he’s unsure why they seem so calm with the advent of impending doom.

Coming around the bend and into clear sight, Meldon’s eyes light up as fear strikes him. The Gorkai emerges in a jog, a good distance away, with his massive shield and huge flail. The Gorkai picks up from a jog to a sprint. Unable to say anything Meldon just points. But both Yardley and Sutcliff already know.

“Give me your sword private” Yardley demands as he helps Sutcliff to stand and places a short sword in the only usable hand of the sergeant.

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“This is not the time to disobey orders private” Sutcliff says trying to balance mostly on his right leg.

“I have one last order of you private.” Yardley says turning to face the fear stricken young man. Reaching out and sliding the long sword from the sheath that Meldon is holding. “You must run to the river. The current will take you downstream. Don’t leave the river until you either reach our tower or you no longer see the Gorkai.” With Private Meldon staring at him wide eyed and frozen, he yells “GO NOW!!!”

Meldon blinks twice as he watches Yardley walk toward the rushing Gorkai with a long sword in each hand. As an unstable Sutcliff readies himself with a short sword. The private then turns and runs as commanded.

Hearing the river, Meldon slows to a stop. Taking deep breaths through his aching lungs, the private tries to compose himself. But every breath brings pain to his battered body. Looking down the path from which he came, he sees nothing. Not knowing if his superiors are alive or dead, he begins to pace. Finally in an act of defiance, Meldon throws his arms up as extreme pain, then numbness, consumes his left arm. Forgetting about the limb during the run, the pain reminds him now. Holding the arm close to his body Meldon begins to examine the limb. Starting with the fingers, then the wrist, the private has soreness but no apparent breaks. But unable to lift the elbow above the shoulder, Meldon believes it to be dislocated. Removing his belt to use as a sling, the private begins to back track in hopes of finding his fellow soldiers.

Surprised and frozen in fear at the sight of the Gorkai in a full sprint coming at him. Running crosses his mind but Meldon’s body won’t listen. Unable to move, the Gorkai closes in. As panic replaces fear, Meldon screams out “EEEAAAHHH.” The screaming brings life back to his legs as the private turns and runs. Seeing the river and the fork of the path, gives Meldon hope that he may survive this day. Through his own panting breaths the private can hear the Gorkai’s heavy steps close behind. Knowing now that his comrades are dead, Meldon must survive and report what has transpired this day. Coming to the high banks of the Koda River, Meldon in a full sprint, launches himself into the air and down into the quick flowing waters. Being tossed and spun in the unrelenting flow, Meldon struggles to keep his head above the surface. Wading with one arm down the river, white caps splashing into his face, Private Meldon gasps for air while looking to the banks for any signs that the Gorkai could still be stalking him.

About the Author

William Jackson is a writer, a Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast, lumberjack, gym goer and Judoka. He’s an old school gamer, lover of medieval history and ancient mythology, and enjoys high-fantasy storytelling.

About the Artist

Deric Albright is an illustrator, web designer, and Air Force Veteran. He enjoys drawing in a dark fantasy art style. He gains inspiration from artists like Frank Frazetta, Mike Ploog, Jim Lee, and many others.

#fantasycharacters #fantasyart #story telling #original story #storytelling #short stories #dnd art #dnd #dnd shenanigans #dnd storytime #dnd stories #monsters #creaturesoflore #creatures #medeival #knights #graphic novel #comicart

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

Photo

Daka the Dormasi, his owl, and his big cat. Getting art ready for my buddy’s next story. . . . #storytelling #art #artistoninstagram #sabertoothcat #primitive #fahtasyart #swordsandsorcery #inking (at Pinckney, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_G5nIWhCdj/?igshid=rfcby7u4wtff

#storytelling #art #artistoninstagram #sabertoothcat #primitive #fahtasyart #swordsandsorcery #inking

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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The Gorka digitally colored. I revised the original as I got some feedback that there was just too much light detracting from the image. So I toned back the highlights. Color was very much inspired by some of Jim Lees art. But the character is an original. What do you all think? . . . #swordsandsorcery #creaturesoflore #folkloreandfairytales #deathsaves #frazetta #highfantasy #darkart https://www.instagram.com/p/B-dXAmjh5hh/?igshid=1rlfhsmmhq6ao

#swordsandsorcery #creaturesoflore #folkloreandfairytales #deathsaves #frazetta #highfantasy #darkart

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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The Gorka digitally colored. Color was very much inspired by some of Jim Lees art. But the character is an original. What do you all think? . . . #monsters #dnd #redart #originalcharacter #traditionalart #digitalcoloring #medeival #comicart (at Pinckney, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-YQu3BhGXZ/?igshid=1c67u1nuvgcl3

#monsters #dnd #redart #originalcharacter #traditionalart #digitalcoloring #medeival #comicart

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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Orin and the Largblat

Written by William Jackson

Art by Deric Albright || Artist of The Winged Man Art

Old gnarled willows dominate the skyline as they stretch their bent and broken arms to block out much of the moons natural light. The leaves are beginning to change from a vibrant green to a bright yellow as the tendrils fall to the swampy floor beneath. Walking through each curtain tendril, Orin picks his path with grace and ease to stay out of the muck of the swamps floor.

With each hop his waist length beard of black streaked with grey flows side to side. His grey face shines in the moonlight as his ebony eyes almost completely absorb the light—yet never seem to move within the sunken placement of the sockets upon his face. Scanning his surroundings, Orin knows he has travelled further west than he normally does on a night hunt.

The willows here number more dead than alive. The decrepit sense of the Boggerwood in this region has never repaired itself from a war waged almost a century ago. A light breeze from the south pushes up against Orin’s stout muscular frame as a look of sadness mixes into resentment. A memory crosses his mind of sailing the Dead Bay to this place so long ago. Shaking his head of the past he continues on. The Boggerwood is a dangerous place filled with monstrosities that only know survival of the fittest.

Crossing his path Orin examines tracks heading north coming from the south. Knowing the footprints are relatively fresh, and of a humanoid wearing boots or shoes. He makes a print of his own, next to one of the existing and kneels down to get a better view. Noticing now that this humanoid’s print is longer and leaves less of an impression in the mud. Whoever this could be, is taller and weighs much less than himself. Motivated by curiosity, Orin decides to follow these tracks north because he doesn’t see too many humanoids in the Boggerwood swamp.

After an hour of lightly jogging and briskly tracking Orin see’s no sight of who he could be following. The weight of his blue scalemail hauberk has brought sweat to his brow and made the grip on his greataxe harder due to the clamminess of his palms. Slowly coming over a small hillock Orin hopes the vantage point would allow him to see a greater distance. But who he has been following means little now, with the sight of what he has just stumbled across. Staring down the three meter tall ravine Orin can see a well used slide. Imprints of what looks like a large snake with periodic stab marks on either side of the body brings a sly grin across his smooth grey face.

In a low calm voice Orin says “Largblat.” And quickly checks his surroundings for the beast. Seeing no trace of what could easily be called a swamp dragon, Orin knows the Largblat will be back and it will continue to use it’s slide. Melding into the base of a large willow on top of the hillock Orin calmly waits for his prey to return.

As the time passes, Orin tries to peer through the dense willow to get a sight of the moon. Losing track of time has made his heart pace. Not wanting to get stuck in the morning sun or face a creature such as the Largblat with the suns rays on him, has made this wait frantic in his mind.

Then a snap of a twig catches his senses. Steadying his breathing Orin pauses in between breathes in hopes of hearing more. Another snap and rustling of leaves has his nerves spiking high. Not being able to see the beast has Orin on high alert, but he knows it’s close. Slowly dropping to his belly, Orin the grey begins dragging himself to the cliffs edge. Peering down the ravine to see a mature green Largblat pulling and slithering its way beneath him. Lifting himself into a crouching stance, he steadies his breathing, tightens the grip around his prized greataxe, then launches himself off the cliffs face and down into the ravine.

Coming in fast, Orin readies his greataxe as the Largblat senses him and twists its body to turn to face him. Opening its dragon like mouth wide it exposes rows of pearly white razor sharp teeth as four claw like hands come protruding out of its mouth. Hitting hard Orin’s greataxe barely cracks a thick scale protecting the shoulder joint, but quickly shifting his weight to deliver a sidelong swing that draws blood this time as his axe penetrates the smaller scales of the neck. Pulling up hard and fast Orin swings down again but only hits the floor of the ravine as the Largblat recoils away from him to launch two mouth claws that slice him across the left bicep and right quadriceps.

Taking in a quick breathe Orin leaps forward then plants heavy on his feet and pulls his axe back as the Largblat launches all four mouth claws his direction. Leaping sideways to intersect the first claw Orin uppercut swings to completely severe the claw a meter from the tip. The second claw reflects off his scale hauberk as the third Orin easily sidesteps but carries himself into the fourth claw that leaves his left arm stinging as the Largblat retracts its claws back into its mouth.

Feeling the warm blood pump down his arm Orin quickly looks to see three, two inch deep gashes across his right bicep and ending mid point of the tricep. Placing his right leg back with his left out in front of him, Orin readies himself. Shifting his torso and bringing his greataxe slightly above his right shoulder, he explodes forward from this stance.

The Largblat slithers and coils to a defensive position for the charge and opens its large mouth as two claws fly from it. Orin anticipating the attack dips under the first claw as it flies over his right shoulder. Then with agility and grace of someone half his weight, strafes sideways and jumps off one leg to cleanly severe the claw only a meter from the Largblats mouth. As the clawless stalk retracts, the remaining mouth claw shoots out hitting Orin mid chest, and stopping all of his momentum.

Stunned and grasping for breath Orin can feel himself being drug toward the opened mouth. Leaning heavy into his heels now the stout Orin tries to anchor himself down. But the remaining mouth claw stabs through the scales of his hauberk as he feels the points of the claws in his lower back. Desperation stricken in his eyes, Orin frantically stabs his axe into the ravines floor trying to stop this slow drag to death.

With strength fading from loss of blood the grey skinned Orin is losing precious ground. Within half a meter the Largblat’s jaw begins to unhinge in anticipation of its stout prey. Closer and closer Orin can see how he will end, how this foul creature hunts, consumes large prey, and how its legs plant heavy into the ground so its mouth claws can pull you in. Then Orin the grey stops straining. Stops resisting altogether. Allows himself to be pulled and takes two quick strides. The quick change of direction adds to his momentum as he leaps now, pulling down with all the strength he has left.

With all the momentum, and all the energy transferring through his arms to the curved blade of his greataxe. Burying the prized axe deep into the top jaw, stopping just short of splitting the Largblats yellow eyes. The creatures legs give out as it tries to recoil away. Orin the grey quickly gains his feet, spinning wide with his axe trailing, he connects heavy into the neck. The small scales split as the axe head becomes lodged into the spine of this dragon like creature.

Stepping away from the beast Orin is gripped with pain. But its not just pain that his body is fighting, but poison. Each mouth claw has enough poison to kill four swamp ponies and Orin has taken multiple stabs and slices from this foul beast. The waves become stronger and more intense, but the sun cresting the horizon has Orin looking for a place to hide himself from the suns harsh rays. Seeing a small overhang in the ravine Orin the grey sprints for it.

Sitting amongst the dirt with scattered rocks and under the lip of the overhang the waves begin to take his body and mind. Unable to move and struggling with blurred vision Orin sees a wavy silhouette closing in as the darkness consumes him.

#dwarf #dwarves #duerger #darkdwarf #darkart #thewingedmanart #monsters #creatures #sketchart #inking #fantasyart #high fantasy #story telling #stories #dragons #dungeons #dnd #dnd art

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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This is a monster/humanoid my friend and I made up for his stories. We’ve been trying to keep cranking out new stories each week or every other week. You can read the stories on my Tumblr. Link is in bio. Anyway, thoughts? . . . #creatures #monsters #humanoids #dubgeons #dragons #stories #conceptart (at Pinckney, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-VzEh3h7D_/?igshid=1n4bmkzljview

#creatures #monsters #humanoids #dubgeons #dragons #stories #conceptart

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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A post shared by The Winged Man Art (@deric10000) on Mar 21, 2020 at 8:12pm PDT

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#dungeons and dragons #dungeons and dorks #fantasyart #buldars gate #deathsaves #comicart #artwork #artists on tumblr #lineart #high fantasy #digital coloring #traditional art

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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Covidica the Enchantress complete and colored digitally! Also included process shots. Let me know your thoughts. . . . #digitalcoloring #digitalart #traditionalart #artistoninsta #colorful #jaguars #originalart #fairytaleart #fantasyart (at Ann Arbor, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9vLAm2BzBt/?igshid=1rfii02bwp1zl

#digitalcoloring #digitalart #traditionalart #artistoninsta #colorful #jaguars #originalart #fairytaleart #fantasyart

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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I’m really enjoying how this one is coming along. I think I just need to add more big cats to my art 😆. Not done yet though. I still need a background. . . . #enchantress #witches #witchesofinstagram #middleages #witchplease #darkwitch #hocuspocus #bigcatart #frazettafriday #deathsaves (at Ann Arbor, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9sllo0havb/?igshid=506tkypq11gy

#enchantress #witches #witchesofinstagram #middleages #witchplease #darkwitch #hocuspocus #bigcatart #frazettafriday #deathsaves

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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Next WIP. Happy woman’s month! . . . #womansmonth #sketchofwoman #fantasyartist #dragons #witches #enchantress #penciling https://www.instagram.com/p/B9nVDFNBvuN/?igshid=1ivfhhctra4x7

#womansmonth #sketchofwoman #fantasyartist #dragons #witches #enchantress #penciling

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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Zelf the Elf from concept to completion in digital color. What do you all think? Always good to hear feedback. . . . #dungeonsanddragons #deathsaves #frazettagirls #fantasycharacters #conceptart #illustration https://www.instagram.com/p/B9frne0hsLC/?igshid=onahy0ybsz74

#dungeonsanddragons #deathsaves #frazettagirls #fantasycharacters #conceptart #illustration

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thewingedmanart · 4 years

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Written by William Jackson

Art by Deric Albright || Artist of The Winged Man Art

As a paladin, Langrim takes his duties very seriously. After the passing of his wife he chose the cloth as his salvation. Cleansing the land of evil is not always work but it truly helps those that cannot fight against the atrocities that wish to profit or gain pleasure in others pain. In staying true to his work, he has been given the moniker of Pious by his peers. Which he respectfully accepts and dutifully continues on in his daily tasks.

Today started as usual as most on a tracking mission. Langrim awoke early, a couple hours before daybreak to pray to his god and give thanks to the blood still running through his gnomish veins — to which he shall smite those no longer deserving of life. His target for today’s mission, a goblin chieftain renown for raiding small villages and killing everyone in his bloodlust. Langrim’s debriefing before accepting this mission, he was told that Obs is a berserker. Once bloodlust has commenced in battle a berserker will become almost in a trance of fury, from which only death of others will break them from it. Obs is known to kill his own followers during this state.

Traveling up a lightly beaten path at the base of the mountain, Langrim was warned of wolves’ dens in this area from nearby townsfolk. Not wanting to be a morning snack of a large alpha male, Langrim scans the ridges and shadows before kneeling down to look for potential tracks. Seeing mostly wolves tracks he does spot what could be a small humanoid footprint with animal like toenails. With knowledge of what he’s tracking Langrim has studied this creature before and knows this to be of goblin origin. Tightening his warhammer with both hands Langrim continues to scan his surroundings and track his objective as the morning sun crests the horizon from behind him.

Feeling the warmth of the suns rays, Langrim stops to wipe the sweat from his brow and to produce a wine skin from his backpack. Noticing the sun has risen a quarter of the way in the sky he looks back to the trail and checks the tracks again. Realizing now the tracks of the goblin he has been following have faded and been replaced by wolves tracks. Puzzled by that, Langrim begins to backtrack in hopes of reacquiring his objectives trail. Looking down the mountain to see the winding trail path from where he came, Langrim notices an outcropping of jutted rock that has formed a small cave entrance about fifty meters off the last bend of the trail below him.

Carefully climbing down, Langrim slowly approaches the three-meter-tall cave entrance to immediately notice goblin tracks everywhere. Placing his backpack down at the side of the entrance he begins to enter the cave. Walking slowly, Langrim methodically scans the walls of the cave for any nooks for potential hiding places. Seeing no movement or hearing any noises Langrim spots a small humanoid shape laying on its side, facing the back of the cave wall. Crossing the five meters Langrim the Pious cautiously approaches the creature to notice the body dressed in dirty tattered clothing and wearing shoes. Relaxing slightly, knowing goblins not to fancy footwear he kneels to roll the body over to examine it closer. Placing the body on its back he can tell it’s a halfling or what’s left of it. Goblins are known to be carnivores and will eat just about anything. Lowering his head, he begins to say a prayer for this poor soul but is interrupted by a shuffling coming from behind him. Quickly Langrim grabs his warhammer and whips around. As a shriek pierces his ears, he sees Obs in full flight bearing down on him with two short swords.

With a double overhand strike, Obs swings down hitting atop the left shoulder and narrowly missing with his off hand short sword. With his victim staggering backwards he lunges forward with both swords in an attempt to skewer this gnome adorned in chainmail. Stabbing through the left side of the reeling gnomes stomach he can see pain cross his surprised face. Taking multiple steps back Langrim barely evades a sloppy left-handed stab and begins to counter with a warhammer swing until he trips over the halflings corpse and falls flat to his back. Hearing another blood curdling scream Langrim witnesses Obs take flight again as he launches himself over the halflings body to stab down with both short swords. Langrim, now in a panic rolls to his side in an attempt to escape death. But is stopped as a sharp pain enters his lower back. with desperation seething within him Langrim rolls back with a backhand swing of his warhammer to catch Obs mid chest and stumble the goblin back. Quickly gaining his feet Langrim catches the eyes of Obs to see nothing of humanity but more of a vicious animal stalking him as they circle.

Obs explodes from his stance to go on the offensive with a flurry of quick strikes. Slashing high then low in measured patterns, Obs puts pressure on this heavily armored foe. Langrim doing his best to dodge and block with his warhammer, but he is getting overwhelmed by the constant assault and tries his best to counterattack. But with each successive swing he takes multiple counter slashes from an unrelenting goblin in full rage across his arms, legs and torso. Langrim knowing he cannot match the speed of this berserker or continue in this barrage can feel desperation mounting within his gut. Knowing the end is close Langrim stops all defense in hopes for one final attack.

Planting his feet Langrim the Pious musters up all the strength he has left to scream “by the light, guide my hammer true.” As a sharp pain of a short sword piercing through the left side of his lower abdomen slows his momentum his warhammer connects with the left side of Obs face. Spinning the goblin out wide with a stream of blood coming from his mouth, they both pause to exchange looks. For the first time Langrim can see intelligence coming from the eyes of Obs. But it is short lived as the goblin spits blood his way and runs out of the cave. Langrim lets out a long breath and falls to a knee as his wounds begin to overwhelm his senses. Glad that Obs has run off, Langrim pulls the short sword from his lower stomach to say a prayer and to heal himself of some of the wounds that Obs had delivered. Knowing he has narrowly escaped death today he sits to write down his encounter with this berserker. A smile crosses his face as he’s collecting his belongings. He then scoops up the halflings corpse to leave this cave behind and head to the village at the base of the mountain.

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