First off, I want to thank each and every one of you who read my attempt at a story. It really means a lot to me to see my effort being appreciated. If you have anything to say at all, please give your feedback! Without further ado, I present to you, Crafter: The Story of Steve.
EDIT: See post further down page for the next Chapter!
Chapter 1
Parluna stepped away from the empty shell of the Beast, roaring a savage victory cry from his ragged throat. The few men remaining by his side joined him, adding their voices to the almighty sound, having defeated their enemy at long last. “Quick, we must bind it now, before he rises!” He said, forming a ring with the others. The 12 men raised their arms, and working quickly they crafted together the 12 parts of the Sigil, forming an elaborate symbol of massive power. As one, they placed it on their great foe, and with a terrible howl, like a blast of icy wind, the Beast was trapped in the Sigil.
A loud clanging noise interrupted Steve’s reading, and he looked up, annoyed, to find the source of the disturbance. Looking outside through his bedroom window, he saw Gregory and Anthony RedForge, better known as Greg and Tony, practising their sword skills in the weapons field close by. The sound of the wooden practice swords clashing their heavy iron armour was what had drawn Steve’s attention away from 101 Tales of Old, the book he had been reading. It told of legendary battles and heroic tales of old, and he had currently been absorbed by the tale of The Company of Parluna and the Banishing of the Beast. Of course, most people these days didn't believe that anything written in the book actually happened, since they were so long ago, and nothing like them had ever happened since, but Steve had always been drawn by the mysterious and outlandish tales. Besides, being the son of the only spell-crafter in town, it was almost expected of him to be the bookish type.
Steve’s Father, Brian, was the towns Spell-crafter. Whereas most of the town’s residents are farmers, blacksmiths or soldiers, Spell-crafters are the most important people in a town. They study old dusty tomes full of magic and sorcery, and use the knowledge they gain to help the townspeople by enchanting their armour and weapons, brewing potions and potives for medicine and crafting Wards to protect the town from the undead forces that roam the land at night. Of course, although his Father was a well-respected and liked man, it didn't make Steve’s life any easier. Because of his Spell-crafting destiny, he was different from the other boys, and they relentlessly teased him about it. Being smaller, quieter and more bookish than the rest of them didn't help either. Whenever he tried to join in when they were playing games, he was always laughed at and humiliated whenever he tripped up while running and fell flat on his face, or made a fool of himself some other way. Because of that, he preferred to spend time in his room, reading books and learning Spell-crafting from his Father.
He sighed, and returned to his book. Currently his Father was out of town, as he had to resupply his materials at Haven City, the capital of the Kingdom. A small town like Hanerbury wasn’t important enough to have a regular supplier of Spell-crafting goods come around, so every Spring he made the trek to the capital for potion ingredients, enchanted metal and the like. Unfortunately for Steve, this meant that for the next week, he couldn't learn any more about brewing potions until he returned home.
A harsh bell shattered the silence of his room, and immediately men started shouting over it. With a gasp, Steve realised that it was the Attack Bell, which only sounded when a group of monsters broke through the Wards surrounding the city. Over the background noise, the Defence Watch Commander yelled, “ALL SOLDIERS, TO THE EASTERN WALL! WE HAVE MULTIPLE BREACHES; BRING EVERY WEAPON YOU'VE GOT!”
Steve knew that with his Father on his way to Haven City, the only way to seal the gaps in the Wards was for him to help. Grabbing his emergency supply of potions and his tool belt, he sprinted out of his front door, where he was greeted by the most horrific sight of his life.
Chapter 2
The low wall which surrounded the town, forever impregnable it seemed to Steve, but now it had a smoking crater in the middle of the Eastern wall, smoke billowing up towards the sky. Struggling to see, Steve saw vague shapes move about in the darkness, and he swallowed in fear. He could see the men from the town rushing over to the breach, donning iron armour and brandishing swords and bows. Steve could see, with a little satisfaction, that most of their weapons and armour were enchanted by his Father. The beefy Commander saw Steve, and called out to him, “Steve! Get inside and tell your Father to get his Spell-craftin’ stuff out now!”
“My Father’s on his way to Haven City, resupplying.” Steve yelled back, “I’m the only one in town who can seal the Ward!”
“Well then hurry up and get down here, we’ll try to cleave a way through!” The Commander said, before
donning his helmet and charging into battle himself.
Steve took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to make the ward that kept monsters at bay. Although he had been learning Spell-crafting for all of his life, Wards were complex, and although he knew the theory, he had never been permitted to craft one before. Steve started towards the smoking wall, joining the throngs of men making their way there. The closer he got, the more he wanted to run away. He could see clearly now the carnage that was the remains of the towns defence. Corpses littered the ground, but not all of them were still. A group of the soldiers who had arrived earliest had formed a tight circle, jabbing their swords at anything that came close.
Steve could see the monsters now, things that he thought only existed in legend and ancient times. Zombies, hulking and huge, were slowly shuffling towards the men, sweeping aside anything in their path. Skeletons of men long since dead were taking pot shots with their bows, forcing the men to hide behind their swords and not venture out. Crawling Spiders, almost as large as humans, came slithering over the hills, rushing the walls and keeping the towns own archers occupied. The only monster that Steve hasn’t seen that he had read about was the hated Creeper, a monster so evil that they exploded upon contact with anything good. Steve surveyed the landscape before him, and guessed that the creepers had caused the breach in the Ward, and the wall too.
Even as the men around Steve rushed forwards to join their comrades, the zombies finally reached them, and the tide of the battle turned against them. Those that fought back against the zombies were picked off by the skeletons wicked arrows, and any who tried to avoid the arrows were caught by the zombies, and their fate was almost too horrible to contemplate. Steve could see that it was hopeless, and although they were fighting bravely, it was only a matter of time before they were overrun, and then no one in the town would be safe.
Steve was about to give up hope, when he heard an almighty boom behind him. A wave of hot air blasted around him, and he turned around to see what the cause of it was. In the centre of the town, a small number of men who had stayed behind had set up the TNT cannons! His Father had one day been making some healing potions for an elderly farmer, who had become quite ill, when he accidently knocked a vial of sulphur, the essence left behind by creepers remains, into a bucket of sand. When the two mixed, they reacted so violently that the roof of the house almost fell through. Steve’s Father saw a use in this strange new substance, and he worked long and hard until he crafted a stable version of it, which only exploded when it was lit on fire. HE also a developed a weapon which used it, a cannon which fired a slow-burning projectile of TNT using other TNT, and it caused massive damage.
Steve watched as the projectiles sailed over his head, and arced down towards the monsters. Some of them hit the spiders attacking the defending archers, but most of them flew into the mob of skeletons, all but obliterating them. The men cried out a hearty cheer, and renewed the attack. Without the constant presence of the skeletons arrows, the men were free to retaliate against the zombies, forcing them back.
“To me, men! Forwards!” The Commander cried, reinvigorating the soldiers flagging limbs.
Steve rushed forwards to help, drawing out of his tool belt a throwable potion, splash potions as his Father called them, which would splatter the retreating zombies with a highly flammable liquid that would instantly set the zombies alight. He hurled the potion, and it flew straight into one of the lead zombies. The fire spread to half a dozen of the foul things, and they turned tail and fled. After more relentless hacking and slashing, the men had finally forced their way through to the hole in the Ward.
“Steve, whatever you were planning to do, you better do it now. This is as good of an opportunity as you are going to get!” The Commander told Steve, panting heavily from the exhaustive fighting.
Steve opened up his tool belt, and pulled out the ingredients that his Father had taught to him what seemed like so long ago.
“A pinch of blaze powder, a red mushroom, some clay and a a sprinkle of coal dust.” Steve murmured to himself, as he mixed together the ingredients in a wooden bowl with a small stick. When the powder turned a brown-red colour, he stepped over to the gap in the Ward, called to the soldiers to make their way back inside, and started blowing gently on the powder. The powder hung in the air, slowly fading and dispersing into the air. He covered the entire breach, as the last men were running back through.
“Steve, hurry up, they are already starting to turn back!” The Commander growled to him, drawing his sword and facing the monsters.
“It’s done, it should hold them off.” Steve said, slumping to the ground with relief and exhaustion. ‘I did it! I managed to cast the Ward!’ he though to himself, as he watched the zombies approach cautiously.
The zombie growled softly, as the slowly crept towards the now invisible Ward. One of the zombies got frightfully closed to Steve, before he stopped suddenly. It was like he had hit a brick wall, and was unable to get any closer, he growled at Steve, before turning with the rest of the horde and walking away from the town. A great cheer rose from the throats of the tired, dusty and gore covered soldiers, as the monsters walked away, into the rising sun.
Chapter 3
Silence filled the air in the cold dawn slowly seeped in. They had been victorious, yes, but the cost had been heavy. Many of the fathers of his fellow schoolmates lay on last night’s battlefield, some coughing weakly, desperately calling out for water, yet even worse were those who lay still, not making a sound at all. The air smelled of burnt flesh, and Steve walked over to a nearby tree, which was charred from the nearby TNT explosions, and was violently sick. Steve started walking back towards the town, when the Commander found him.
“Steve, m’boy, the town owes it to ya, for savin’ our hide last night. Without you, the monsters would have levelled the town by now. That reminds me, how long will your spell last?” The burly man said, taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Well, in theory, it should last for a month, but the way that things have been the past couple of months, it would be lucky if it didn’t fail in two weeks’ time.” Steve said, fingers rummaging idly through his belt.
“Hm, that is indeed grim news, well I won’t hold ya up any longer, go get some rest. Notch knows you look like you need it.” He said, moving off to join the others collecting the dead.
Steve walked back to his house, giving the other town members a wide berth. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, just getting back into his room and absorbing himself in one of the stories of the heroes of old times. In truth, Steve didn’t feel like a hero. The other people knew that he had made the Ward which turned back the monsters, and that he was responsible for saving them. However, Steve knew that without the normal soldiers, and ordinary townspeople to defend, and then push back against them, allowing him to craft the Ward, he would never have been able to save them. Ordinary men, farmers who had handled a hoe their entire lives and never used a sword before, who laid their lives on the line to save their families and their home, who made the ultimate sacrifice, they were the real heroes.
Reaching the front door, a voice cried out, “Steve! Are you alright? Turning around, Steve saw his Father running towards him, sweeping him up in a hug. After a lung-crushing moment, he put Steve down, looked him over, and asked “What happened, did you get hurt?” “No Dad, the monsters came and I went to go hide in the house like you told me to, but then I realised that since you weren’t there I was the only one who could have fixed the Ward, so I-“ Steve said, rambling slightly from the shock and joy of seeing his Father back in town, when he stopped suddenly as a portly figure stepped into sight behind his Father.
The Lord of the town, Varneclius, was a short, rotund man, who was as bald as an egg on the top of his head, which he kept hidden with an old leather helmet, but what he lacked on the top of his head he more than made up for with his bristling bush of dark black fur, quivering on his upper lip. He spoke with a slight lisp, as he hailed from the great city of Espern, in the East. He was chosen by the King to be the custodian of Hanerbury and the surrounding farms, and he was unpopular with the locals, who would have preferred the Commander to be their leader, although he himself claimed to never have any aspirations of power. Steve was especially wary around Varneclius, as it was a little known fact that he despised spell-crafting in all forms. Over in Espern spell-crafting was virtually unknown, and the mystery around it gave rise to tales of dark magics and evil sorcerers who roamed the lands to the West.
“Yes, yes, congratulations and salutations to young Steve, for his timely assistance in preventing the undead horde from breaching the town’s defences and saving the town members from an unfortunate demise.” He said, giving an odd little bow and hand-wave. Among other things, Lord Varneclius rejoiced at every opportunity to share his large vocabulary. “However, I must have a word with you, Brian.” His expression changing to a slight sneer.
“Me, my Lord, whatever for?” Steve’s Father asked, straightening and facing the man.
“I have reason to believe that the Ward’s failure was no mere accident. I think you deliberately let it fail!” Varneclius accused, his face now showing open hostility. Several of the passing town members stopped, and stared at the scene unfolding before them.
“What are you on about, my Lord, you know as well as I do that Wards have been failing earlier than usual for the past month, and anyway I was travelling to Haven City to purchase supplies when the attack happened.” Steve’s Father explained, looking confused, and he put a protective arm around Steve.
“Oh, you were travelling to Haven City, were you? I thought that it took a week to get there and back, and I swear I saw you leave two days ago! How can you explain that?” Lord Varneclius sneered.
“When I set up camp last night, I spotted a plume of smoke rising in the direction of Hanerbury, so I knew that something was wrong. I hurried back during the night to see what had happened, and if Steve was alright.” Brian said. He did have large rings under his eyes, as if he had been awake for too long.
“Well, even if that was the case, I have proof that you were the main perpetrator behind the undead hordes’ attack last night!” Varneclius proclaimed, and from his cloak withdrew a large white cube. He turned it around and Steve gasped. It was a Skeleton’s head, but it wasn’t just that. There was a feather sticking out of the mouth, and what appeared to be jewels had been inserted into the previously empty eye sockets. “Now I may not be an expert in Spell-crafting, but anyone could see that this was used as a part of some twisted ritual to conjure up those foul beasts, and to drive them towards the town! But that is not all, for where do you suppose I found such an object? In your house, Brian!” The man yelled, extending a ring-laden finger towards Steve’s bewildered Father.
Steve’s Father shook his head and said, “I had no such thing in my house, that is a powerful object used for evil, and I would never us-“
“Silence!” Lord Varneclius cut him off, “There is no denying that you are an evil sorcerer, and the culprit responsible for the attack! We all know that you are the only one in Hanerbury to know Spell-crafting, and only a Spell-crafter could craft such an object.”
Steve looked around, and saw that a sizeable crowd had gathered around the stand-off. Most of the villagers were in shock, having never thought of his Father, who had protected the town for so many years, as evil. However, he also saw several men nodding their heads in agreement with Varneclius, and had an angry look on their faces.
“You monster, you killed my husband, you soulless bast-“ A shrill voice cried out from the crowd, before being clamped by someone’s hand, but the damage has been done. Looking around now, most of the town members were scowling, remembering that many of their friends and family has been killed in last night’s onslaught.
Varneclius snapped his fingers, and two members of his private guard stepped forward and grabbed Steve’s Father’s arms, pinning them to his side. Brian struggled against them, and managed to break free from the muscle-bound guards’ grip. He ran over to Steve, and looked him in the eye. “You must go now, son, before you are caught too! Go to the Lorannis Academy, show them this, and always remember that I love you!” He said, pressing something into Steve’s hands, just before he was roughly pulled away again by the guards. The townspeople cheered the guards, and cursed at Steve’s Father for what they thought he had done. Lord Varneclius strode in front of them, a smug look on his oily face.
Steve woke from his trancelike state, and looked down at his hands. He saw that his father had given him his necklace. It was a simple brown rope cord, with a small piece of gold hanging from it, with a strange inscription on it. Steve put it on, and ran back into his house. Everything had happened to fast, and Steve wasn’t feeling anything. He hoped that his Father would be alright, but he had seen him being taken towards the training grounds, and that only meant one thing. Swallowing back a giant sob, Steve hurriedly packed away his few possessions, food and water, a knife and a map into a small backpack that he had. His Father had told him when he was young that he had learnt Spell-crafting from Lorannis Academy, far away to the West, nestled in the snowy mountain range of Ohres. Steve’s Father had also said that it would always be a refuge for Spell-crafters, if they were in desperate times. Steve realised that he didn’t have enough room for all of his books, so after a moment he grabbed 101 Tales of Old and stuffed into his already full backpack.
Aware that he was probably being looked for, Steve sneaked out of the house via the back door, and ran through the buildings towards the Western Gate, beyond which his destination lay. When he reached the Gate, panting from his exertion, he turned back and looked for his Father. He was standing on top of a hastily assembled pile of wood, with a crowd of townspeople surrounding him. Lord Varneclius stood before his Father, and was reading from a book. He must have just finished, because he snapped the book shut, and drew out a piece of flint and a piece of steel from his robe. Steve turned away, not wanting to look, but he could still here the whooshing sound peculiar to fire, and his Fathers horrible, tortured screams, as he was burned alive.
Chapter 4
Steve rubbed his hands together, trying to get some warmth back into them, staring despondently into his pitiful attempt at a fire. The past week had been miserable for Steve. As he travelled further west the temperature dropped lower and lower, until now he was constantly shivering, even with all of his leather armour on. It had been raining for 3 days straight, and he was thoroughly soaked, although luckily his backpack has been smeared in a waterproof salve that his Father had concocted from some oil he had squeezed from seeds, so his belongings, and more importantly his book, were dry. Unfortunately, his food supplies were running low, and he had been forced to start fishing whenever he found a lake, which was met with mixed success. He had travelled along paths during the day, and camped beside them at night, but yesterday the road stopped, so he had been forced to trek through uneven terrain, with a constant threat of monsters. Steve had been lucky, though, and hadn’t come across anything dangerous. Today, he had finally spotted the Ohres, their peaks jutting out of the landscape like a giant’s teeth.
Steve huddled closer to the fire, curling up into a ball shape to conserve body heat. Over the past week he has thought about his Father, and what had happened to him. Steve couldn’t believe that Lord Varneclius had convinced the town that his Father, the man who they depended upon for protection from the night, who had been a born and raised there, who had lived there for 43 years, was somehow behind the monster attack. The first few days Steve had been travelling he had been numb to the world, until the third night when he finally broke down, and wept the entire night. His Mother, Sarah, had died at birth, and his Father had single-handedly raised him and cared after him while protecting the town. Whenever Steve was bullied at school his Father was always there to talk to, and his humour and warmth was always there to come home to. Now Steve had nothing, and he felt vulnerable for the first time in his life.
Steve sighed, got up, and put the fire out. He rolled over onto a bed of soft grass and leaves, and hugged himself to keep warm, knowing that the night was going to be a long one.
~ A snapping twig woke Steve. He bolted upright, his eyes instinctively adjusting to the low light level. Listening carefully, Steve heard another twig snap, louder this times, and a soft swishing sound, like cloth brushing over something. Steve slowly got to his knees, around him in the dark. A shadowy shape appeared at the edge of his field of vision, and Steve strained to see in the cold moonlight. Feeling the ground around him, Steve found his backpack and slid his knife out quietly, holding it in his trembling hand. “Who’s there?” Steve whispered, holding out his other hand to steady himself.
“Who’s there yourself?” A high voice called out in return. The shadow stepped closer, and Steve could see the tip of an arrow protruding into the air.
Steve sensed that he was in danger, so he lowered his knife, “I’m just a traveller, I mean no harm.”
Stepping slowly into the circle of moonlight which dimly lit the clearing which Steve was camping in, a slender woman slipped into view, loosening the tension in her bow slightly. She was dressed head to toe in tight leather armour, dark brown in colour. She spoke softly, her voice like leaves rustling in the wind, “Who are you, and why are you travelling alone out here?”
“I’m Steve, and I’m travelling west.” Steve said. He didn’t feel the need to tell her exactly where he was going just yet.
“Well… Steve, it isn’t safe to be out alone, at least it hasn’t been since a month ago.” The woman said, a look of anger passing over her face. “Well, if you want, you can stay at my hunting party’s camp for the night. We have a fire and tents, and some fresh food.”
Steve thought of his dangerously low food supplies, and thought that spending a night in warmth and comfort would be a very nice thing to do indeed, “Thank you, I would love to join you.” As he finished speaking, he heard a rustling noise in the forest next to him, and he slowly turned towards it. There was no time to react as a giant black shape hurtled out of the undergrowth, and threw itself at Steve. He covered his face with his arms, bracing for impact, when he felt a bristly ball brush past his left side, carrying enough force to send Steve spinning to the ground. After spending a moment clearing his head, Steve looked up and saw that his saviour was the hunter woman, who had fired an arrow into the creature’s side, knocking it off its direct collision course with Steve. He searched for her now, and saw that she was slowly backing away from the creature, firing arrows into its body rapidly, but with care and precision.
Taking a closer look, Steve saw that the attacker was a giant spider, standing as tall as Steve’s waist, jet black and covered in black bristles of hair. It had gigantic, dripping fangs and glowing red eyes, locked onto the hunter. It was similar to the spiders that had been part of the monster horde that had sieged Hanerbury, except that it was about twice as big, and ten times as dangerous looking. It was quickly getting punctured with arrows, and its body was starting to resemble the world’s largest pincushion, but it was still scuttling towards the hunter at an alarming speed. Steve could see fear in her eyes, as she fired arrows until there were none left in the quiver strapped to her back. She dropped her bow, and drew out a sword from a scabbard that hung from her waist, but Steve could see that she stood no chance against the huge, deadly killing machine that was stalking towards her. She looked over to Steve, and he snapped out of his shock. Looking around him, his eyes caught on his tool belt, and he remembered the potions that he kept in there. Running over to the bag, he felt inside and picked up the first potion his fingertips found, and hurled it into the spiders back.
That sure got its attention. The black hairs on the spider’s abdomen burnt off, as the beast burst into flames. Hissing angrily, it scuttled around to face me, and charged at me, its fangs clacking horribly. Steve gulped, realising his mistake, a spider on fire was even more dangerous than a normal one! Steve felt around on the ground again, hoping he would find a stick to hit the spider with. His fingers brushed over something cold, and he saw the knife that he had taken from his house was under his hand. Quickly picking it up, Steve held it awkwardly in front of him. He had never done well in sword fighting classes at school, and it showed. The spider was getting closer and closer, covering the ground between them frighteningly fast. Steve looked down at the knife again, and had a crazy idea. He flipped over the knife, so that Steve was gripping the tip of the knife between his thumb and fingers, and threw it at the spider. It spun end over end towards the spider, glinting in the moonlight, before burying itself in one of the spider’s eyes.
It gave a hideous gasp, eyes bulging and hair standing on end, before it keeled over to the side, legs curling up under it, heaving in a final shuddering breath. Steve inched over to the body, not sure whether it was dead or not, grabbing the hilt of the knife and pulling it free. He gasped as he saw the knife was glowing purple. “You hold a blade infused with a powerful Bane of Arthropods enchantment. Wherever would a traveller like you find one of those?” The woman called out, looking at Steve cautiously now. Sensing that she was afraid of him now, he quickly said, “My Father is-was a Spell-crafter. I took the blade when… when I left. I was his apprentice.” The woman looked him over, and seemingly satisfied took a deep breath. “We shall speak no more tonight, we must quickly go back to camp. You are coming, aren’t you” She asked with a hint of a smile showing on her face, turning around and walking back into the shadows. Steve looked down at the knife in his hand, now as dull as a blacksmith’s hammer, before sheathing it in his belt. Gazing up at the moon, he took a deep breath, before hurrying after his new companion deep into the night.
I just went through the chapters. It's pretty good, I actually like it! I didn't check this at first because it said, "The Story of Steve," and I mistook this as another average Steve story. Did I mistake it wrong. Thumbs up from me.
Chapter 3 is now out! Sorry for the big delay, I was busy, and I forgot about the story for a little while, and this chapter is longer than the rest, but excuses don't matter now because the chapter is out!
I completely forgot about this story, I am so sorry about that. School got a lot busier and I just completely forgot this existed. For some reason a few days ago I suddenly remembered it and re-read it. It seemed that a few people enjoyed it so I decided that they deserve to have more of it, so I wrote the next chapter. I don't know if I will continue to write this story, but I'll definitely try. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 5
“Hey everyone, I found a stranger travelling alone near the edge of the forest, He was running low on food so I brought him here.” Steve’s new found companion called out to the night air. As Steve brushed past a low hanging branch and entered a clearing, he saw several faces illuminated by a campfire turn towards him. The one closest to him, large and covered in a moustache resembling the tail of a wolf, go up and advanced towards him. “How do we know we can trust him, eh? Bandits have been crawling over this forest recently and they would be happy to have a slice of our wares. He may be young, but I’ve heard that they use the young’uns to distract you while they rob you blind.” At that he froze, eyes narrowing, as he looked around the camp to make sure that there were no dark shapes flitting out from between the trees.
“Dad, you can relax. His name is Steve and he saved my life. A spider, bigger than any I’ve seen before, rushed us from the tree cover. My arrows seemed to do nothing to it, but luckily Steve is a Spell-crafter, he has an enchanted sword.” The woman hurriedly explained, gesturing to Steve to display the knife that was hanging from his backpack. The man who had confronted them sighed, “Oh, thank Notch, you’re alright. If something had happened to my little girl then I don’t know what I would do.” He turned to Steve, relief flooding from his eyes, “Steve, was it? My name’s Paul, this here’s me daughter Alex. I can’t thank you enough for helping her against those horrible monsters. Here, have some cooked porkchops, fresh off the bone.”
Steve walked towards the fire, realizing with a grumble in his stomach how hungry he was. As he tore into a large chunk of meat, he looked around at the other members of the party. Over by the donkeys was a tall, thin man, chewing on his moustache as he looked over the leashes holding the beasts. Directly across the fire was a large woman with long grey hair. By the look in her eyes, Steve could tell that this was Alex’s Mother, A loud yelp brought Steve’s attention to a hunting wolf lying beside the campfire, tails swishing slowly through the air. Alex walked by him and started scratching the wolf’s back, causing him to softly growl in pleasure. She turned to face Steve and said, “In case you couldn’t guess, this is my family. My Dad, Mum, Brother and I make a living by hunting in these parts. Lately, though, things have been getting more dangerous with all the monsters about.”
“Hey there, Steve, did I hear that you were a Spell-crafter?” Alex’s Brother called out from beside the donkeys. Steve turned to him and replied, “Well, my Father was a Spell-crafter, I was just his apprentice. I only know a bi-“ “Excellent!” He cut him off, approaching Steve and asking, “These darn mules keep on escaping from their leashes, do you reckon there’s some enchantment or potion that would keep the leashes from breaking so often?” Steve walked over to the donkeys and studied the leashes closely. “Well, your leashes seem to be fine, the donkeys must really want to break free. I think that if you give them a bit of sugar to eat every so often, they will be happier and won’t try and run off.” Steve explained as he reached into his backpack and brought out the small supply of sugar he had brought with him. He tried not to squirm as the donkeys’ tongues tickled the palm of his hand as they quickly ate their treat. Sam’s Brother scratched his head as he came over to Steve and the beasts, “Well, look at that, they certainly seem to be all cheered up now. Thanks a bunch, I was really getting tired of having to fix those leashes every night.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder as Paul called out, “Alright gang, there’s still a few hours of night time left, let’s get some rest. I’ll take first watch, you two deserve a rest.” Steve pulled out his bedroll and lay down next to the embers of the fire, grateful for the heat it would bring. He closed his eyes and exhaustion overtook him.
~
Steve woke to a piercing scream, coming from right beside him. He started upright, eyes wildly looking around and trying to make sense of his surroundings. He flinched back in horror as Alex’s Mother stumbled past him, clutching her shoulder, as he realized that the horrible wailing sound was coming from her. As he started to make out more details, he saw that she was cradling a shoulder stump, her arm having been savagely ripped off below it. Steve scrambled upright and could scarcely believe what he was seeing. The flickering light of several torches illuminated a horde of zombies infiltrating the camp, while Alex’s family were desperately trying to hold off the attack. He saw Alex, who was firing arrows as quick as a snake into the zombie horde, although it hardly seemed to make a dint in their numbers. Her Father and Brother had an iron sword each and were fighting back to back, desperately trying to stave off the largest portion of the zombies. While all of this was happening, Alex’s pet wolf was running through the ranks, lunging at faces and taking them out at the knees, adding to the pandemonium.
A deep growl reverberated from right behind Steve and he quickly lunged forwards, feeling a cold whoosh of air behind his back as he landed in the dirt. He got up and spun around, coming face to face with a zombie holding something long and pale in its hands. Steve shuddered in revulsion as he realized that it was Alex’s Mother’s desiccated arm, fighting back the bile rising in his throat. Steve pulled out his knife and ran towards Alex, who was struggling against a sudden rush of the foul creatures. “Steve! Thank Notch you didn’t get taken!” Alex said breathlessly, as Steve lunged forward and skewered a zombie that was about to wrap her up from behind. “Do you have anything that we can fight them with? Our normal swords and arrows don’t seem to be very effective against them.” She asked, as she shot a zombie that had slipped past Paul’s defenses.
Steve rummaged through his backpack, searching for anything that would be harmful to a large group of undead monsters. His hand closed on the bottle of another potion and he pulled it out, only to look upon it in dismay. “The only potion I have left won’t do anything to the zombies, they are immune to poison!” Steve exasperated. His blood, which had been boiling in the frenzied mayhem, turned to ice as he saw a new monster enter the clearing. Out from the woods crawled a spider, as big as the one he had fought earlier that night, with a skeletal archer riding on top of it. Alex gasped as she saw it too, and began to yell a warning to her Father and Brother. As she turned, the skeleton knocked an arrow to its bow, paused for a moment to aim, then released the arrow towards them. As Alex’s Brother looked up in response to Alex’s shout, the arrow took him in the throat, causing him to slump down to his knees before being quickly obscured from view by the zombies closing in on her dead. Alex and Steve stared in horror as Paul somehow managed to fend off the monsters for a few seconds, giving him enough time to yell out, “ALEX! FORGET ABOUT ME, JUST RUN!” He was quickly swallowed up again by the throng of flesh, a loud cry coming from the middle. Steve snapped out of his trance and grabbed Alex by the arm, forcing her to stumble after him as they fled from the campsite.
Alex whistled piercingly, a loud yelp emanating from the campsite letting them know that the wolf would follow them. Steve ran as fast as he could, his legs burning and his chest aching. He risked looking behind him and saw that they were outpacing the zombie horde, although for how much longer was anybody’s guess. Alex turned around as well and stifled a cry as the Spider-riding Skeleton burst through the zombies, easily covering the remaining distance between them. Hopelessness overtook Steve, as he knew that it was only a matter of time before that foul thing chased them down, they stood no chance. Alex cried out beside him, “Look, the Sun is rising!” and pointed to the horizon. Steve turned back around and indeed saw the night sky beginning to glow, they were actually going to make it. Steve laughed and smiled at Alex, wondering why she was looking back at him in horror. The grin fell from his face as he heard the twang of a bowstring behind him, he slowly turned around to see an arrow heading straight towards Alex, who seemed frozen in place. Time seemed to slow down, as Steve unsheathed his knife and raised it above his head. He eyed the arrow, judged the distance and swung his knife down in front of Alex. As the arrow entered his vision, the falling knife clipped the front of the flint arrowhead, causing sparks to fly. More importantly, it manage to deflect the arrow enough to send it thudding into the tree next to Alex. Alex gasped as she instinctively flinched away, but she quickly regained her composure and turned to start running again. “Alex, you don’t have to run anymore, we can take it easy.” Steve called out to her as she ground to a halt. “What do you mean?” she asked and Steve gestured behind him. The Sun had finally risen and the zombies were frantically trying to escape its searing rays, many of them bursting into flames. The skeletal archer was forced to seek cover as well, although it was glaring at the two of them intently, to let them know that the fight wasn’t over.
Alex sighed with relief, before abruptly beginning to sob, great shuddering gasps coming out of her. Steve rushed over to her and placed an arm around her shoulders and whispered, “It’s going to be alright. Your family died trying to protect you and they succeeded, that’s the most important thing. Alex drew in a breath and sobbed, “B-but what am I going to do now? I have no home to go back to.” Steve thought for a moment before replying, “You can come with me to the Lorannis Academy. I’m sure that they would be able to help you, even if you just stay for a little while.” Alex looked up at him and said, “Lorannis Academy? That’s where the great Spell-crafters studied at. I think that you’ll fit right in there.” She smiled, “Alright, I guess I don’t have anywhere else to go. Thanks for the offer and for saving my life again.” Steve helped her back to her feet, before setting off towards the rising Sun, “It’s no problem, friends need to stick together.”
Introduction
First off, I want to thank each and every one of you who read my attempt at a story. It really means a lot to me to see my effort being appreciated. If you have anything to say at all, please give your feedback! Without further ado, I present to you, Crafter: The Story of Steve.
EDIT: See post further down page for the next Chapter!
Chapter 1
A loud clanging noise interrupted Steve’s reading, and he looked up, annoyed, to find the source of the disturbance. Looking outside through his bedroom window, he saw Gregory and Anthony RedForge, better known as Greg and Tony, practising their sword skills in the weapons field close by. The sound of the wooden practice swords clashing their heavy iron armour was what had drawn Steve’s attention away from 101 Tales of Old, the book he had been reading. It told of legendary battles and heroic tales of old, and he had currently been absorbed by the tale of The Company of Parluna and the Banishing of the Beast. Of course, most people these days didn't believe that anything written in the book actually happened, since they were so long ago, and nothing like them had ever happened since, but Steve had always been drawn by the mysterious and outlandish tales. Besides, being the son of the only spell-crafter in town, it was almost expected of him to be the bookish type.
Steve’s Father, Brian, was the towns Spell-crafter. Whereas most of the town’s residents are farmers, blacksmiths or soldiers, Spell-crafters are the most important people in a town. They study old dusty tomes full of magic and sorcery, and use the knowledge they gain to help the townspeople by enchanting their armour and weapons, brewing potions and potives for medicine and crafting Wards to protect the town from the undead forces that roam the land at night. Of course, although his Father was a well-respected and liked man, it didn't make Steve’s life any easier. Because of his Spell-crafting destiny, he was different from the other boys, and they relentlessly teased him about it. Being smaller, quieter and more bookish than the rest of them didn't help either. Whenever he tried to join in when they were playing games, he was always laughed at and humiliated whenever he tripped up while running and fell flat on his face, or made a fool of himself some other way. Because of that, he preferred to spend time in his room, reading books and learning Spell-crafting from his Father.
He sighed, and returned to his book. Currently his Father was out of town, as he had to resupply his materials at Haven City, the capital of the Kingdom. A small town like Hanerbury wasn’t important enough to have a regular supplier of Spell-crafting goods come around, so every Spring he made the trek to the capital for potion ingredients, enchanted metal and the like. Unfortunately for Steve, this meant that for the next week, he couldn't learn any more about brewing potions until he returned home.
A harsh bell shattered the silence of his room, and immediately men started shouting over it. With a gasp, Steve realised that it was the Attack Bell, which only sounded when a group of monsters broke through the Wards surrounding the city. Over the background noise, the Defence Watch Commander yelled, “ALL SOLDIERS, TO THE EASTERN WALL! WE HAVE MULTIPLE BREACHES; BRING EVERY WEAPON YOU'VE GOT!”
Steve knew that with his Father on his way to Haven City, the only way to seal the gaps in the Wards was for him to help. Grabbing his emergency supply of potions and his tool belt, he sprinted out of his front door, where he was greeted by the most horrific sight of his life.
Chapter 2
“My Father’s on his way to Haven City, resupplying.” Steve yelled back, “I’m the only one in town who can seal the Ward!”
“Well then hurry up and get down here, we’ll try to cleave a way through!” The Commander said, before
donning his helmet and charging into battle himself.
Steve took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to make the ward that kept monsters at bay. Although he had been learning Spell-crafting for all of his life, Wards were complex, and although he knew the theory, he had never been permitted to craft one before. Steve started towards the smoking wall, joining the throngs of men making their way there. The closer he got, the more he wanted to run away. He could see clearly now the carnage that was the remains of the towns defence. Corpses littered the ground, but not all of them were still. A group of the soldiers who had arrived earliest had formed a tight circle, jabbing their swords at anything that came close.
Steve could see the monsters now, things that he thought only existed in legend and ancient times. Zombies, hulking and huge, were slowly shuffling towards the men, sweeping aside anything in their path. Skeletons of men long since dead were taking pot shots with their bows, forcing the men to hide behind their swords and not venture out. Crawling Spiders, almost as large as humans, came slithering over the hills, rushing the walls and keeping the towns own archers occupied. The only monster that Steve hasn’t seen that he had read about was the hated Creeper, a monster so evil that they exploded upon contact with anything good. Steve surveyed the landscape before him, and guessed that the creepers had caused the breach in the Ward, and the wall too.
Even as the men around Steve rushed forwards to join their comrades, the zombies finally reached them, and the tide of the battle turned against them. Those that fought back against the zombies were picked off by the skeletons wicked arrows, and any who tried to avoid the arrows were caught by the zombies, and their fate was almost too horrible to contemplate. Steve could see that it was hopeless, and although they were fighting bravely, it was only a matter of time before they were overrun, and then no one in the town would be safe.
Steve was about to give up hope, when he heard an almighty boom behind him. A wave of hot air blasted around him, and he turned around to see what the cause of it was. In the centre of the town, a small number of men who had stayed behind had set up the TNT cannons! His Father had one day been making some healing potions for an elderly farmer, who had become quite ill, when he accidently knocked a vial of sulphur, the essence left behind by creepers remains, into a bucket of sand. When the two mixed, they reacted so violently that the roof of the house almost fell through. Steve’s Father saw a use in this strange new substance, and he worked long and hard until he crafted a stable version of it, which only exploded when it was lit on fire. HE also a developed a weapon which used it, a cannon which fired a slow-burning projectile of TNT using other TNT, and it caused massive damage.
Steve watched as the projectiles sailed over his head, and arced down towards the monsters. Some of them hit the spiders attacking the defending archers, but most of them flew into the mob of skeletons, all but obliterating them. The men cried out a hearty cheer, and renewed the attack. Without the constant presence of the skeletons arrows, the men were free to retaliate against the zombies, forcing them back.
“To me, men! Forwards!” The Commander cried, reinvigorating the soldiers flagging limbs.
Steve rushed forwards to help, drawing out of his tool belt a throwable potion, splash potions as his Father called them, which would splatter the retreating zombies with a highly flammable liquid that would instantly set the zombies alight. He hurled the potion, and it flew straight into one of the lead zombies. The fire spread to half a dozen of the foul things, and they turned tail and fled. After more relentless hacking and slashing, the men had finally forced their way through to the hole in the Ward.
“Steve, whatever you were planning to do, you better do it now. This is as good of an opportunity as you are going to get!” The Commander told Steve, panting heavily from the exhaustive fighting.
Steve opened up his tool belt, and pulled out the ingredients that his Father had taught to him what seemed like so long ago.
“A pinch of blaze powder, a red mushroom, some clay and a a sprinkle of coal dust.” Steve murmured to himself, as he mixed together the ingredients in a wooden bowl with a small stick. When the powder turned a brown-red colour, he stepped over to the gap in the Ward, called to the soldiers to make their way back inside, and started blowing gently on the powder. The powder hung in the air, slowly fading and dispersing into the air. He covered the entire breach, as the last men were running back through.
“Steve, hurry up, they are already starting to turn back!” The Commander growled to him, drawing his sword and facing the monsters.
“It’s done, it should hold them off.” Steve said, slumping to the ground with relief and exhaustion. ‘I did it! I managed to cast the Ward!’ he though to himself, as he watched the zombies approach cautiously.
The zombie growled softly, as the slowly crept towards the now invisible Ward. One of the zombies got frightfully closed to Steve, before he stopped suddenly. It was like he had hit a brick wall, and was unable to get any closer, he growled at Steve, before turning with the rest of the horde and walking away from the town. A great cheer rose from the throats of the tired, dusty and gore covered soldiers, as the monsters walked away, into the rising sun.
Chapter 3
“Steve, m’boy, the town owes it to ya, for savin’ our hide last night. Without you, the monsters would have levelled the town by now. That reminds me, how long will your spell last?” The burly man said, taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Well, in theory, it should last for a month, but the way that things have been the past couple of months, it would be lucky if it didn’t fail in two weeks’ time.” Steve said, fingers rummaging idly through his belt.
“Hm, that is indeed grim news, well I won’t hold ya up any longer, go get some rest. Notch knows you look like you need it.” He said, moving off to join the others collecting the dead.
Steve walked back to his house, giving the other town members a wide berth. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, just getting back into his room and absorbing himself in one of the stories of the heroes of old times. In truth, Steve didn’t feel like a hero. The other people knew that he had made the Ward which turned back the monsters, and that he was responsible for saving them. However, Steve knew that without the normal soldiers, and ordinary townspeople to defend, and then push back against them, allowing him to craft the Ward, he would never have been able to save them. Ordinary men, farmers who had handled a hoe their entire lives and never used a sword before, who laid their lives on the line to save their families and their home, who made the ultimate sacrifice, they were the real heroes.
Reaching the front door, a voice cried out, “Steve! Are you alright? Turning around, Steve saw his Father running towards him, sweeping him up in a hug. After a lung-crushing moment, he put Steve down, looked him over, and asked “What happened, did you get hurt?” “No Dad, the monsters came and I went to go hide in the house like you told me to, but then I realised that since you weren’t there I was the only one who could have fixed the Ward, so I-“ Steve said, rambling slightly from the shock and joy of seeing his Father back in town, when he stopped suddenly as a portly figure stepped into sight behind his Father.
The Lord of the town, Varneclius, was a short, rotund man, who was as bald as an egg on the top of his head, which he kept hidden with an old leather helmet, but what he lacked on the top of his head he more than made up for with his bristling bush of dark black fur, quivering on his upper lip. He spoke with a slight lisp, as he hailed from the great city of Espern, in the East. He was chosen by the King to be the custodian of Hanerbury and the surrounding farms, and he was unpopular with the locals, who would have preferred the Commander to be their leader, although he himself claimed to never have any aspirations of power. Steve was especially wary around Varneclius, as it was a little known fact that he despised spell-crafting in all forms. Over in Espern spell-crafting was virtually unknown, and the mystery around it gave rise to tales of dark magics and evil sorcerers who roamed the lands to the West.
“Yes, yes, congratulations and salutations to young Steve, for his timely assistance in preventing the undead horde from breaching the town’s defences and saving the town members from an unfortunate demise.” He said, giving an odd little bow and hand-wave. Among other things, Lord Varneclius rejoiced at every opportunity to share his large vocabulary. “However, I must have a word with you, Brian.” His expression changing to a slight sneer.
“Me, my Lord, whatever for?” Steve’s Father asked, straightening and facing the man.
“I have reason to believe that the Ward’s failure was no mere accident. I think you deliberately let it fail!” Varneclius accused, his face now showing open hostility. Several of the passing town members stopped, and stared at the scene unfolding before them.
“What are you on about, my Lord, you know as well as I do that Wards have been failing earlier than usual for the past month, and anyway I was travelling to Haven City to purchase supplies when the attack happened.” Steve’s Father explained, looking confused, and he put a protective arm around Steve.
“Oh, you were travelling to Haven City, were you? I thought that it took a week to get there and back, and I swear I saw you leave two days ago! How can you explain that?” Lord Varneclius sneered.
“When I set up camp last night, I spotted a plume of smoke rising in the direction of Hanerbury, so I knew that something was wrong. I hurried back during the night to see what had happened, and if Steve was alright.” Brian said. He did have large rings under his eyes, as if he had been awake for too long.
“Well, even if that was the case, I have proof that you were the main perpetrator behind the undead hordes’ attack last night!” Varneclius proclaimed, and from his cloak withdrew a large white cube. He turned it around and Steve gasped. It was a Skeleton’s head, but it wasn’t just that. There was a feather sticking out of the mouth, and what appeared to be jewels had been inserted into the previously empty eye sockets. “Now I may not be an expert in Spell-crafting, but anyone could see that this was used as a part of some twisted ritual to conjure up those foul beasts, and to drive them towards the town! But that is not all, for where do you suppose I found such an object? In your house, Brian!” The man yelled, extending a ring-laden finger towards Steve’s bewildered Father.
Steve’s Father shook his head and said, “I had no such thing in my house, that is a powerful object used for evil, and I would never us-“
“Silence!” Lord Varneclius cut him off, “There is no denying that you are an evil sorcerer, and the culprit responsible for the attack! We all know that you are the only one in Hanerbury to know Spell-crafting, and only a Spell-crafter could craft such an object.”
Steve looked around, and saw that a sizeable crowd had gathered around the stand-off. Most of the villagers were in shock, having never thought of his Father, who had protected the town for so many years, as evil. However, he also saw several men nodding their heads in agreement with Varneclius, and had an angry look on their faces.
“You monster, you killed my husband, you soulless bast-“ A shrill voice cried out from the crowd, before being clamped by someone’s hand, but the damage has been done. Looking around now, most of the town members were scowling, remembering that many of their friends and family has been killed in last night’s onslaught.
Varneclius snapped his fingers, and two members of his private guard stepped forward and grabbed Steve’s Father’s arms, pinning them to his side. Brian struggled against them, and managed to break free from the muscle-bound guards’ grip. He ran over to Steve, and looked him in the eye. “You must go now, son, before you are caught too! Go to the Lorannis Academy, show them this, and always remember that I love you!” He said, pressing something into Steve’s hands, just before he was roughly pulled away again by the guards. The townspeople cheered the guards, and cursed at Steve’s Father for what they thought he had done. Lord Varneclius strode in front of them, a smug look on his oily face.
Steve woke from his trancelike state, and looked down at his hands. He saw that his father had given him his necklace. It was a simple brown rope cord, with a small piece of gold hanging from it, with a strange inscription on it. Steve put it on, and ran back into his house. Everything had happened to fast, and Steve wasn’t feeling anything. He hoped that his Father would be alright, but he had seen him being taken towards the training grounds, and that only meant one thing. Swallowing back a giant sob, Steve hurriedly packed away his few possessions, food and water, a knife and a map into a small backpack that he had. His Father had told him when he was young that he had learnt Spell-crafting from Lorannis Academy, far away to the West, nestled in the snowy mountain range of Ohres. Steve’s Father had also said that it would always be a refuge for Spell-crafters, if they were in desperate times. Steve realised that he didn’t have enough room for all of his books, so after a moment he grabbed 101 Tales of Old and stuffed into his already full backpack.
Aware that he was probably being looked for, Steve sneaked out of the house via the back door, and ran through the buildings towards the Western Gate, beyond which his destination lay. When he reached the Gate, panting from his exertion, he turned back and looked for his Father. He was standing on top of a hastily assembled pile of wood, with a crowd of townspeople surrounding him. Lord Varneclius stood before his Father, and was reading from a book. He must have just finished, because he snapped the book shut, and drew out a piece of flint and a piece of steel from his robe. Steve turned away, not wanting to look, but he could still here the whooshing sound peculiar to fire, and his Fathers horrible, tortured screams, as he was burned alive.
Chapter 4
Steve huddled closer to the fire, curling up into a ball shape to conserve body heat. Over the past week he has thought about his Father, and what had happened to him. Steve couldn’t believe that Lord Varneclius had convinced the town that his Father, the man who they depended upon for protection from the night, who had been a born and raised there, who had lived there for 43 years, was somehow behind the monster attack. The first few days Steve had been travelling he had been numb to the world, until the third night when he finally broke down, and wept the entire night. His Mother, Sarah, had died at birth, and his Father had single-handedly raised him and cared after him while protecting the town. Whenever Steve was bullied at school his Father was always there to talk to, and his humour and warmth was always there to come home to. Now Steve had nothing, and he felt vulnerable for the first time in his life.
Steve sighed, got up, and put the fire out. He rolled over onto a bed of soft grass and leaves, and hugged himself to keep warm, knowing that the night was going to be a long one.
~ A snapping twig woke Steve. He bolted upright, his eyes instinctively adjusting to the low light level. Listening carefully, Steve heard another twig snap, louder this times, and a soft swishing sound, like cloth brushing over something. Steve slowly got to his knees, around him in the dark. A shadowy shape appeared at the edge of his field of vision, and Steve strained to see in the cold moonlight. Feeling the ground around him, Steve found his backpack and slid his knife out quietly, holding it in his trembling hand. “Who’s there?” Steve whispered, holding out his other hand to steady himself.
“Who’s there yourself?” A high voice called out in return. The shadow stepped closer, and Steve could see the tip of an arrow protruding into the air.
Steve sensed that he was in danger, so he lowered his knife, “I’m just a traveller, I mean no harm.”
Stepping slowly into the circle of moonlight which dimly lit the clearing which Steve was camping in, a slender woman slipped into view, loosening the tension in her bow slightly. She was dressed head to toe in tight leather armour, dark brown in colour. She spoke softly, her voice like leaves rustling in the wind, “Who are you, and why are you travelling alone out here?”
“I’m Steve, and I’m travelling west.” Steve said. He didn’t feel the need to tell her exactly where he was going just yet.
“Well… Steve, it isn’t safe to be out alone, at least it hasn’t been since a month ago.” The woman said, a look of anger passing over her face. “Well, if you want, you can stay at my hunting party’s camp for the night. We have a fire and tents, and some fresh food.”
Steve thought of his dangerously low food supplies, and thought that spending a night in warmth and comfort would be a very nice thing to do indeed, “Thank you, I would love to join you.” As he finished speaking, he heard a rustling noise in the forest next to him, and he slowly turned towards it. There was no time to react as a giant black shape hurtled out of the undergrowth, and threw itself at Steve. He covered his face with his arms, bracing for impact, when he felt a bristly ball brush past his left side, carrying enough force to send Steve spinning to the ground. After spending a moment clearing his head, Steve looked up and saw that his saviour was the hunter woman, who had fired an arrow into the creature’s side, knocking it off its direct collision course with Steve. He searched for her now, and saw that she was slowly backing away from the creature, firing arrows into its body rapidly, but with care and precision.
Taking a closer look, Steve saw that the attacker was a giant spider, standing as tall as Steve’s waist, jet black and covered in black bristles of hair. It had gigantic, dripping fangs and glowing red eyes, locked onto the hunter. It was similar to the spiders that had been part of the monster horde that had sieged Hanerbury, except that it was about twice as big, and ten times as dangerous looking. It was quickly getting punctured with arrows, and its body was starting to resemble the world’s largest pincushion, but it was still scuttling towards the hunter at an alarming speed. Steve could see fear in her eyes, as she fired arrows until there were none left in the quiver strapped to her back. She dropped her bow, and drew out a sword from a scabbard that hung from her waist, but Steve could see that she stood no chance against the huge, deadly killing machine that was stalking towards her. She looked over to Steve, and he snapped out of his shock. Looking around him, his eyes caught on his tool belt, and he remembered the potions that he kept in there. Running over to the bag, he felt inside and picked up the first potion his fingertips found, and hurled it into the spiders back.
That sure got its attention. The black hairs on the spider’s abdomen burnt off, as the beast burst into flames. Hissing angrily, it scuttled around to face me, and charged at me, its fangs clacking horribly. Steve gulped, realising his mistake, a spider on fire was even more dangerous than a normal one! Steve felt around on the ground again, hoping he would find a stick to hit the spider with. His fingers brushed over something cold, and he saw the knife that he had taken from his house was under his hand. Quickly picking it up, Steve held it awkwardly in front of him. He had never done well in sword fighting classes at school, and it showed. The spider was getting closer and closer, covering the ground between them frighteningly fast. Steve looked down at the knife again, and had a crazy idea. He flipped over the knife, so that Steve was gripping the tip of the knife between his thumb and fingers, and threw it at the spider. It spun end over end towards the spider, glinting in the moonlight, before burying itself in one of the spider’s eyes.
It gave a hideous gasp, eyes bulging and hair standing on end, before it keeled over to the side, legs curling up under it, heaving in a final shuddering breath. Steve inched over to the body, not sure whether it was dead or not, grabbing the hilt of the knife and pulling it free. He gasped as he saw the knife was glowing purple. “You hold a blade infused with a powerful Bane of Arthropods enchantment. Wherever would a traveller like you find one of those?” The woman called out, looking at Steve cautiously now. Sensing that she was afraid of him now, he quickly said, “My Father is-was a Spell-crafter. I took the blade when… when I left. I was his apprentice.” The woman looked him over, and seemingly satisfied took a deep breath. “We shall speak no more tonight, we must quickly go back to camp. You are coming, aren’t you” She asked with a hint of a smile showing on her face, turning around and walking back into the shadows. Steve looked down at the knife in his hand, now as dull as a blacksmith’s hammer, before sheathing it in his belt. Gazing up at the moon, he took a deep breath, before hurrying after his new companion deep into the night.
Thanks so much for the support dejers, it means a lot
Keep up the good writing.
EDIT: Oh, this is really old, that sucks, it was a great story
PROUD USER OF THE STEVE SKIN
Chapter 5
“Dad, you can relax. His name is Steve and he saved my life. A spider, bigger than any I’ve seen before, rushed us from the tree cover. My arrows seemed to do nothing to it, but luckily Steve is a Spell-crafter, he has an enchanted sword.” The woman hurriedly explained, gesturing to Steve to display the knife that was hanging from his backpack. The man who had confronted them sighed, “Oh, thank Notch, you’re alright. If something had happened to my little girl then I don’t know what I would do.” He turned to Steve, relief flooding from his eyes, “Steve, was it? My name’s Paul, this here’s me daughter Alex. I can’t thank you enough for helping her against those horrible monsters. Here, have some cooked porkchops, fresh off the bone.”
Steve walked towards the fire, realizing with a grumble in his stomach how hungry he was. As he tore into a large chunk of meat, he looked around at the other members of the party. Over by the donkeys was a tall, thin man, chewing on his moustache as he looked over the leashes holding the beasts. Directly across the fire was a large woman with long grey hair. By the look in her eyes, Steve could tell that this was Alex’s Mother, A loud yelp brought Steve’s attention to a hunting wolf lying beside the campfire, tails swishing slowly through the air. Alex walked by him and started scratching the wolf’s back, causing him to softly growl in pleasure. She turned to face Steve and said, “In case you couldn’t guess, this is my family. My Dad, Mum, Brother and I make a living by hunting in these parts. Lately, though, things have been getting more dangerous with all the monsters about.”
“Hey there, Steve, did I hear that you were a Spell-crafter?” Alex’s Brother called out from beside the donkeys. Steve turned to him and replied, “Well, my Father was a Spell-crafter, I was just his apprentice. I only know a bi-“ “Excellent!” He cut him off, approaching Steve and asking, “These darn mules keep on escaping from their leashes, do you reckon there’s some enchantment or potion that would keep the leashes from breaking so often?” Steve walked over to the donkeys and studied the leashes closely. “Well, your leashes seem to be fine, the donkeys must really want to break free. I think that if you give them a bit of sugar to eat every so often, they will be happier and won’t try and run off.” Steve explained as he reached into his backpack and brought out the small supply of sugar he had brought with him. He tried not to squirm as the donkeys’ tongues tickled the palm of his hand as they quickly ate their treat. Sam’s Brother scratched his head as he came over to Steve and the beasts, “Well, look at that, they certainly seem to be all cheered up now. Thanks a bunch, I was really getting tired of having to fix those leashes every night.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder as Paul called out, “Alright gang, there’s still a few hours of night time left, let’s get some rest. I’ll take first watch, you two deserve a rest.” Steve pulled out his bedroll and lay down next to the embers of the fire, grateful for the heat it would bring. He closed his eyes and exhaustion overtook him.
~
Steve woke to a piercing scream, coming from right beside him. He started upright, eyes wildly looking around and trying to make sense of his surroundings. He flinched back in horror as Alex’s Mother stumbled past him, clutching her shoulder, as he realized that the horrible wailing sound was coming from her. As he started to make out more details, he saw that she was cradling a shoulder stump, her arm having been savagely ripped off below it. Steve scrambled upright and could scarcely believe what he was seeing. The flickering light of several torches illuminated a horde of zombies infiltrating the camp, while Alex’s family were desperately trying to hold off the attack. He saw Alex, who was firing arrows as quick as a snake into the zombie horde, although it hardly seemed to make a dint in their numbers. Her Father and Brother had an iron sword each and were fighting back to back, desperately trying to stave off the largest portion of the zombies. While all of this was happening, Alex’s pet wolf was running through the ranks, lunging at faces and taking them out at the knees, adding to the pandemonium.
A deep growl reverberated from right behind Steve and he quickly lunged forwards, feeling a cold whoosh of air behind his back as he landed in the dirt. He got up and spun around, coming face to face with a zombie holding something long and pale in its hands. Steve shuddered in revulsion as he realized that it was Alex’s Mother’s desiccated arm, fighting back the bile rising in his throat. Steve pulled out his knife and ran towards Alex, who was struggling against a sudden rush of the foul creatures. “Steve! Thank Notch you didn’t get taken!” Alex said breathlessly, as Steve lunged forward and skewered a zombie that was about to wrap her up from behind. “Do you have anything that we can fight them with? Our normal swords and arrows don’t seem to be very effective against them.” She asked, as she shot a zombie that had slipped past Paul’s defenses.
Steve rummaged through his backpack, searching for anything that would be harmful to a large group of undead monsters. His hand closed on the bottle of another potion and he pulled it out, only to look upon it in dismay. “The only potion I have left won’t do anything to the zombies, they are immune to poison!” Steve exasperated. His blood, which had been boiling in the frenzied mayhem, turned to ice as he saw a new monster enter the clearing. Out from the woods crawled a spider, as big as the one he had fought earlier that night, with a skeletal archer riding on top of it. Alex gasped as she saw it too, and began to yell a warning to her Father and Brother. As she turned, the skeleton knocked an arrow to its bow, paused for a moment to aim, then released the arrow towards them. As Alex’s Brother looked up in response to Alex’s shout, the arrow took him in the throat, causing him to slump down to his knees before being quickly obscured from view by the zombies closing in on her dead. Alex and Steve stared in horror as Paul somehow managed to fend off the monsters for a few seconds, giving him enough time to yell out, “ALEX! FORGET ABOUT ME, JUST RUN!” He was quickly swallowed up again by the throng of flesh, a loud cry coming from the middle. Steve snapped out of his trance and grabbed Alex by the arm, forcing her to stumble after him as they fled from the campsite.
Alex whistled piercingly, a loud yelp emanating from the campsite letting them know that the wolf would follow them. Steve ran as fast as he could, his legs burning and his chest aching. He risked looking behind him and saw that they were outpacing the zombie horde, although for how much longer was anybody’s guess. Alex turned around as well and stifled a cry as the Spider-riding Skeleton burst through the zombies, easily covering the remaining distance between them. Hopelessness overtook Steve, as he knew that it was only a matter of time before that foul thing chased them down, they stood no chance. Alex cried out beside him, “Look, the Sun is rising!” and pointed to the horizon. Steve turned back around and indeed saw the night sky beginning to glow, they were actually going to make it. Steve laughed and smiled at Alex, wondering why she was looking back at him in horror. The grin fell from his face as he heard the twang of a bowstring behind him, he slowly turned around to see an arrow heading straight towards Alex, who seemed frozen in place. Time seemed to slow down, as Steve unsheathed his knife and raised it above his head. He eyed the arrow, judged the distance and swung his knife down in front of Alex. As the arrow entered his vision, the falling knife clipped the front of the flint arrowhead, causing sparks to fly. More importantly, it manage to deflect the arrow enough to send it thudding into the tree next to Alex. Alex gasped as she instinctively flinched away, but she quickly regained her composure and turned to start running again. “Alex, you don’t have to run anymore, we can take it easy.” Steve called out to her as she ground to a halt. “What do you mean?” she asked and Steve gestured behind him. The Sun had finally risen and the zombies were frantically trying to escape its searing rays, many of them bursting into flames. The skeletal archer was forced to seek cover as well, although it was glaring at the two of them intently, to let them know that the fight wasn’t over.
Alex sighed with relief, before abruptly beginning to sob, great shuddering gasps coming out of her. Steve rushed over to her and placed an arm around her shoulders and whispered, “It’s going to be alright. Your family died trying to protect you and they succeeded, that’s the most important thing. Alex drew in a breath and sobbed, “B-but what am I going to do now? I have no home to go back to.” Steve thought for a moment before replying, “You can come with me to the Lorannis Academy. I’m sure that they would be able to help you, even if you just stay for a little while.” Alex looked up at him and said, “Lorannis Academy? That’s where the great Spell-crafters studied at. I think that you’ll fit right in there.” She smiled, “Alright, I guess I don’t have anywhere else to go. Thanks for the offer and for saving my life again.” Steve helped her back to her feet, before setting off towards the rising Sun, “It’s no problem, friends need to stick together.”