The Legend of Erol

Title: The Legend of Erol

Author: Lucas Eventide

We knew little of our fates for that dim night. The town cryer spoke to us about a Hermit in need of escorts to guide him to Trinsic. About thirty of us choose to lead this old man to his friend. Our reward and thanks would be given in gold... and a secret none had heard, kept quiet through the ages.

So onward we moved, Erol lead the way with a strange aura about him. We knew he was afraid of something deep within those forests and we were becoming restless with his slow pace. Still we passed fish around and sang trail songs in the dimming light of midday. Nightfall began upon us near the Britain-Trinsic bridge. A surge of magical energy was heard, it hummed its song as the rest of us became backed up on the blocked bridge.

As soon as the magical wall had faded we crossed and found our companion, Erol, had dissapeared. Riddled with dispair we began a search for the missing man. With nightime approaching ever faster he came out from his hiding. He told us of his dreadfull fear of the arcane, the magical. I would like to note that I didn't blame the man. To me magic flowed from the most unnatural source of power in Brittania. I certainly wouldn't hide myself from a magic wall, but I would prefer a long walk over a recall any day. So this man had a point.

He continued to a small tent and campfire, telling us his plans to continue during the daylight hours when the theives and murderers were less likely to attack a humble old hermit. It was by the fire that we all huddled. I and my guildmate sat on a rock and listened to the uneasy laughter and rigid speach of the rusted warriors that had come along. Their stories were as vast as the sea. Still I hope I will remember some of them for a warriors tale.

Erol stood with his brown shag beard and untamed hair, draped in his dusty brown cloak.

"Well, perhaps we can get part of the compensation out of the way now by telling you the secret I had promised."

We all silenced in anticipation. I started scrawling in my notebook in hopes to etch a picture and the secret in lasting memory. He continued, the flames of the fire lighting him from behind.

"How about a legend of this very forest." He paused to scan the weathered faces of the party. "My friend first told me of this story and it did put fear into my very soul." And thus began the story.

"There was a hermit who experemented with herbs, weeds, anything he could discover in the forest and he discovered a great deal. He found that he required one thing that he could not get especially since he had been a hermit for the majority of his adult life"

An elbow nudged my side and a young warrior mouthed 'Laid'. A few muffled snickers escaped the crowd and let a little tension out. Erol didn't notice and continued his speech.

"... learning to fend for himself against nature and monsters. The one component he required, one day, wandered into his small area. Twas a young lass by the name of Madelyn. She was very lovely, legend has it. But, he was not concerned with her looks, nor her mind. He was concerned with the soul and how it functioned with her body and used her for his vile experiments. My friend told me that the hermit had never been found and the only way the story was told this far was because of a few adventurers, alive and well years after the incident. They say he succeeded in his experiments even, but required the flow of one steady component which grew in number over and over again." Now he looked to each of us as a chill was sent down our spines.

"Have you heard this legend before? Or have you heard of the hermit's small area within the woods?" There were a few quiet nays.

"Perhaps not, but I can tell you it looked a great deal like this one." The clank of swords could be heard as the warriors began to stand and slide their hands to their sheaths. "Madelyn did not live to tell the tale. Only the hermit could live on and show others his vile creations.

"The hermit named Erol!" He burst into blood curdling laughter. His skin began to shift to a thick red leather. He grew to the size of a giant and sprouted wings. The skeletal and lich minions swarmed the small crew. You could hear screams as the souls lifted from the body. This was the exact sound Erol loved. The undead left a stench of war lingering in the air. I forced myself to raise a kryss to the skeletals, knowing that if I was attacked by more that I was sure to join their ranks.

Erol cheered his mob on, swating the few warriors and mages that surrounded him back. Many arrows and swords slid across the tough skin unharmed. As more and more fell, the battle seemed without hope. Our valiant were hoarded against the thin walls of the tent. Our healers were busy themselves healing those most in need or those most valuable.

It was by the brightening light of the new day that hours of raging battle came to a hault. We stood staring at the giant bodies of the daemons, the withering flesh of zombies, white- washed bones of skeletons, and glowing bodies of liches. Sighing in releif we started to heal our wounds.

Then a youth emerged, a young maiden as beautifull as her tale had told. Madelyn smiled to us, and gave us her thanks for killing her tormentor. For now she was finally free. She gave us each a bit of gold to pay for our expense, much less than the jewls and treasure he had promised us for the escort. However, we had our lives. Which was not something that everyone who traveled along could say. The rest of his treasure would go to the Healers of Trinsic we were told.

As the sun shone high and ended a long day of adventuring, we all parted to the promise of a new adventure and a forest that was just a little bit safer from the hermit named Erol.

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