Chapter 2: Change

In the middle of the woods, the sun is setting, sparks of a continuous attempt of lighting a fire can be seen floating about, as a figure in a hunter's jacket sits on a chopped log in front of a bundle of sticks, hitting two rocks against each other.

On another chopped log, head resting on a leather bag, lies an unconscious Jon.

The area is surrounded by trees, sounds of birds chirping and bushes rustling could be heard in the distance, alongside the sound of the rocks hitting.

Jon starts to wake up, with a rough headache causing him to struggle to get up in a sitting position.

"Ugh... What the fuck?" he says, putting a hand on his head, looking around.

"Hungover, are ya?" calls the voice of the other person, in an African American accent that is... Yep, you guessed it, just a little bit of medieval in there. There's a reason for that but we'll get to that later.

"Huh? Who-"

"Name's Eli Canine, but my friends call me Fangs." says the other man, turning to face Jon. Jon is surprised to see that the man has ears and fangs that resemble a wolf's, and an overly hairy face, his facial expressions however look fairly chill.

"You got some..." Jon starts to say, pointing at his face, obviously still trying to wake up completely. "Yeah... Never mind."

Fangs laughs. He finally starts the fire.

"Oh hell yeah!" calls Fangs, victoriously. "Air's really humid, can't do shit from all the mist, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Oh shit, shit!" cries Jon as sudden realization hits him. "What happened? Fuck! Did that really happen?!"

"Well, in case you're curious, I saved your life-"

"Shit!" cries Jon at the top of his lungs, enraged. "That fucking bastard killed Mary!"

"Sucks, man." says Fangs.

"I'm going to kill that ass-faced bastard! I will make him wish his mother never conceived his ass-ass!" cries Jon, trying to stand, but stopping to a halt as he aches in pain. He looks down and sees that his right leg is tied with a bunch of sheets and cloth, chopped from the femur down.

"He chopped your leg, man." says Fangs.

"I can see that!" shouts Jon, angrily.

Jon, almost erupting in a fury, drops his face to his palms, quieting out for a moment.

"I feel you, man." says Fangs, warming his hands in the fire, blowing off a breeze of cold from his mouth. "The Dark Lord screwed my hometown, too. He just went through everyone's throats like a breeze... I was the last one left.. y'know? When he blows away the mist to show you all of your dead friends and family, and you get angry and blinded by revenge... That's just what he wants, he wants you blind. Blind prey is dead prey."

"I'm not prey." Jon mutters under his palms

"Yeah, you are.. we're all prey to him." says Fangs.

After another moment of silence, Jon shakes his head. He starts laughing maniacally. Fangs stares at him in confusion.

"Are you..." Fangs starts to say.

Jon takes his face off his palms and reveals that he is crying, his laughter turns to weeping as he returns to a resting position.

"Oh, yeah. The classic laugh-cry. You'll be fine, okay?" says Fangs.

"No, no I won't be fine!" cries Jon. "Twenty years, we have fought for twenty years in a war that felt like it would never end... The gods rewarded our patience with salvation and it was finally over, we moved to a quiet village to live the rest of our life in peace... We got married, had a little boy..."

"I'm sorry-"

"I'd have spent what's left of my life doing what I love... Drinking! Getting paid to have a good time with the folk! Living the life with Mary! I retired.. We retired! We were going to stay out of danger for good!" cries Jon.

"Look, we'll get back at him." says Fangs

"How? Is it even possible?!" says Jon "Ass-face didn't even break a sweat! He was too strong.. And I'm too old, and not to mention this."

Jon points at his chopped leg.

"I'm a fucking scarecrow now!" cries Jon.

Fangs hold in a laugh.

"I'm sure we-"

"You better let that laugh loose, that was a good fucking joke." says Jon.

"Look, man, there's this prophecy we gotta fulfill-"

"A prophecy?" asks Jon.

"Yeah, my father passed it to me right before he... passed away." says Fangs, lowering his voice and dropping his head slightly, obviously getting a little frustrated.

"Oh... Fuck, I'm sorry." says Jon.

"My father was a medium, he could contact the other plane. He knew of this prophecy about a certain knight destined to save the kingdom from the Dark Lord." says Fangs.

"A knight?" asks Jon, becoming more interested.

"A brave knight, of royal blood, promised to a princess." says Fangs "A man that will learn to use the magic and the blade to vanquish the Dark Lord and bring peace upon Nexonia. They called it 'The High Prophecy'."

"Who is this man? Where can we find him?" says Jon.

"I've narrowed down the possibilities, it's gotta be Prince Markus." says Fangs.

"Markus Wyvern?" asks Jon, surprised. "Son of King Harry Wyvern?!"

"Him exactly." says Fangs.

"But why did you come here? The prince is in the capitol, not here in Alijone." says Jon.

"Before his death, father taught me the powers of the beyond, he showed me how to use the skill of premonition." says Fangs. "The chosen one must have a mentor, and my premonition has led me right here, to you... So there y'are."

Fangs takes out a slab of meat and starts cooking it on the fire. Jon sits up, thinking for a moment.

"Cold night." says Fangs. "Gotta be the mist... Dark Lord really likes doing shit the cold way."

"How did you get me out of there?" asks Jon.

"I conjured a bunch of wolves and snuck you off while the Dark Lord was distracted." says Fangs.

"You conjure?" asks Jon, seeming curious and interested.

"Yeah, man, I already told you I'm capable of doing wild shit, premonition and whatnot," says Fangs. "What's conjuring to it all?"

"Can you teach me?" says Jon.

"Sure, on the road." says Fangs.

"Where to?" asks Jon.

"We need some help and resources before we set off to the capitol." says Fangs.

"Friends?" asks Jon.

"I don't have friends." says Fangs.

"Then who calls you Fangs?" says Jon.

Fangs looks at Jon, laughing, and says "I guess you do."

----

A large jungle space, barely any sunlight from the thick and large trees that litter the area, Jon and Fangs are heading towards a large cave-like structure, Jon is resting on Fangs's shoulder, trying to walk on his one leg.

"What is this place?" says Jon.

"This is one of those very rare secluded spaces," says Fangs, "Where the frog people are stayin'."

"Frog people?" says Jon, curious, "I've heard of them... but I've never actually seen a frog person before."

"They don't like to be seen," says Fangs, "It ain't good for 'em."

"So... How does one become a frog person?" asks Jon.

"That's an inappropriate question." says Fangs. "Please don't ask them that."

They approach the entrance of the cave, a large opening, that looks to be blocked by a giant boulder. Fangs starts to feel on the walls, a little bit to the left of the boulder, until a piece of the wall starts to budge.

"Right here." says Fangs.

A very small piece of the wall starts moving and is replaced with a pair of large, froggy eyes, studying them carefully.

"What's the pickle?" asks the bearer of the eyes, in a very deep and froggish voice, almost a croak.

"It is what it is." says Fangs.

"It is what it is." repeats the man, as he closes the piece of rock back to its place.

The boulder starts to move aside, causing the place to shake for a moment. Jon struggles to keep his balance, almost falling before Fangs helps him stay put. Fangs and Jon are greeted by two frog people, almost their height, humanoid arms and legs but faces and skin patterns that resemble a frog's. They are dressed in humble leather garbs.

One of them comes out towards Fangs, excited.

"Cricky!" says Fangs, excitedly, running to give the frog person a hug, "What's up my man!"

"What's up my ribbet!" croaks Cricky, extending his arms to take him in. After a short hug, they both move away and start talking casually.

"How have you been, man?" says Fangs.

"Nothing much, really, just the average ribbet stuff, y'know." croaks Cricky.

"This is my friend, Jon," says Fangs, introducing Jon to him, "Jon, this is Cricky, been my friend for a very long time!"

"Very long time!" bellows Cricky, "This ribbet is my ribbet, he's got it all."

"Pleased to meet you, Cricky, I'm Jon, and uh..."

"My friend Jon here was attacked by the dark lord." says Fangs.

"Oh dear!" gasps Cricky, noticing his leg, "Oh he did you dirty... Come in, please."

Cricky takes them both into the cave. We start to see the interior of the cave, it is lighted on the inside by large glowing mushrooms and crystals on the ceilings and the walls, various glowing ponds. Frog people are walking about, minding their own business, some stand by the walls, mining with their crude pickaxes and foraging for mushrooms, and some talking, and some just hopping around.

The frog people are all dressed in cheap clothing, just like a villager would, if his village was struggling. They don't look very happy.

A faint music could be heard, like a wave of a pentatonic croak-like singing from a far distance, building to the eerie feeling of the place. Jon watches everything, still slightly confused and overwhelmed by what he is seeing. Cricky notices his confusion and turns to him.

"You never seen a frog person before?" He croaks.

Jon, apparently still taken in by the strange aura of the cave, takes a moment before he starts to pay attention to Cricky.

"What? Oh, no... No, I haven't," says Jon, "I've actually heard of you but I haven't really... seen any of you in real life before... You know I kind of expected you guys to be more..."

Jon hesitates for a moment, thinking. Cricky looks at him, confused.

"More...?" croaks Cricky.

"I don't know... I mean, you guys can talk." says Jon.

"Indeed we can." croaks Cricky.

"I mean," says Jon, laughing a bit, slightly nervous, "I really don't know! Y'know? I kind of just expected you guys would be talking... you know, like frogs, 'ribbet' and all that."

All the surrounding frog people stop and gasp in shock, staring at Jon. Jon is shocked at the hundreds of eyes staring down at him. He looks around, then looks back at Fangs.

"What did I say?" whispers Jon.

"You can't say that." whispers Fangs.

"What, frogs?" says Jon, confused, "Ribbet?"

Everyone gasps once more.

"What?!" cries Jon.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to stop." croaks Cricky.

"What?" says Jon, "But that's what you are! Right?"

"We do not need to be reminded of our past." croaks Cricky, disappointed, disapproving of Jon, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I didn't... I don't..." says Jon, hesitating and confused, "... What? I don't get it!"

"Just stop." says Fangs.

----

Cricky's cave, a tight living space with a furnace on one end and a window and a seating made of rock on the other, Jon is seated, chopped leg forward, awaiting Cricky, who is seated in front of the furnace, crafting a mechanical leg, holding a pair of tongs.

Fangs sits on the bench next to Jon.

"This could hurt." says Fangs.

"I don't fucking care, let's just get this over with." says Jon.

"So, the dark lord..." croaks Cricky, disturbed, almost loathing, "Is he coming this way?"

"I have no idea." says Jon, staying silent for a moment. "He... He just killed my wife, Cricky... Just like that, he struck his arm through her chest I... I hate the fucking bastard."

"Don't we all?" croaks Cricky, wearing a pair of gloves and raising the mechanical leg higher to study its features, "You know, the dark lord is the reason why we, the frog people, live in seclusion."

"Is he?" says Jon, curious.

"You see, long ago.. we, the frog people, lived on Tres Montes." croaks Cricky, "That is the name of our island; the three mountains, God's Land... it was a holy sanctuary, where every creature of every race would find safety from the great war."

"The great war?" says Jon, "You mean the war between the Nexonish and the Kiyan?"

"That ain't no great war, my friend," croaks Cricky, "I'm talking way back, on the ancient continent, when man reached the peak of their power, and brought doom down on themselves... I'm talking about the death from the sky."

"I've only heard vague stories about that," says Jon, "I'm not even sure any of that is true."

"Oh, it is," croaks Cricky, approaching Jon with the leg, measuring his femur, "we still inherit the ancient culture, you see, but we had to adapt to the lack of power, by reaching out to the ways of the dark ages, the ways of old... The old old... And with these ways, the medieval culture started to set in, and the culture of the destroyers started to set out."

"The destroyers?" says Jon, confused, "I'm fucking fifty for the gods' sake, why am I only hearing about this shit now?"

"We have all been hearing mere bits and pieces about it, nobody knows the full truth." croaks Cricky, "One thing we do know is that we are in the age of change... The dark lord dawned over Tres Montes, and made it into his dark kingdom.. he banished all good and holiness from our once holy land.. but mark my words, the dark lord isn't our biggest threat, change is... This could hurt."

"Change.." Jon starts to say, before Cricky suddenly impales his femur with the mechanical leg and starts twisting it in, causing Jon to scream in pain and agony, "Ow! what the fuck?!"

"I told you this could hurt." says Fangs.

"You should be good to go in about..." croaks Cricky, examining his new leg, before he roughly smacks it. Jon throws his leg upwards in a painful reflex.

"Ow!" cries Jon.

"Yeah, you're good to go." croaks Cricky.

----

Jon and Fangs travel through the cave again, this time back where they came from. Jon now walks on his mechanical leg, it is crude-looking but efficient to some extent. On the way out, Jon notices a group of five frogs standing side-by-side in the corner of the cave, in dark purple cloaks, they seem to be the source of the eerie croaking song. He turns to look in front of him once more, thinking.

"I don't like your friends one bit." says Jon. "But at least I have a leg so there's that."

"They're not friends." says Fangs. "Just life-long acquaintances."

"You seem to be having some trust issues, Fangs." says Jon. "What's your deal?"

"I like to pick who I can trust, and who I can call a friend or an acquaintance." says Fangs.

"Did something happen back in the village?" says Jon, giving him a concerned look. ".. Or was it from before that?"

On their way out of the cave, a mysterious frog person stops them, looking to be around 40 years of age, ripped clothes, almost crazed, left eye twitching, kneeling in front of them.

"Woah!" cries Jon, startled.

"Jonathan Eagle of Stratfort!" bellows the frog person. Jon is surprised that the person knows his name, he pays more attention to him. "I am a humble servant of the God of Fate... I have been sent with a relic for you!"

The man uncloaks a strange ring, old, dirty, and rusty, probably made of the cheapest mineral one could lay hands on, not even a gemstone atop it, and hands it to him. Jon looks at it, underwhelmed.

"Uh... Okay?" says Jon.

"Protect it with your heart and soul... You will come to require it." croaks the frog person, before he scampers off into the distance. Jon and Fangs exchange looks, confused.

"The shit was that about?" says Fangs.

"The fuck do I know?" says Jon.

----

In the early morning, the sky is crystal-clear, not a cloud in sight. Two squirrels are seen quarrelling over a nut atop a tree. The tree shakes, seemingly from a strong smack, and the squirrels scurry off, dropping the nut.

Beneath the tree, Fangs catches the nut, and a bunch of others, as he and Jon walk through a long dirt path in the woods, surrounded by thick trees and bushes. The sun looks to have risen about an hour ago, ascending to their right, hinting that they are heading north.

"Have some, you're gonna need 'em." says Fangs, offering Jon some nuts.

"I'm good." says Jon, still troubled, pondering.

"Suit yourself." says Fangs, suddenly swallowing several nuts whole. "So what type'a magic do you know?"

"Like, adeptly?" says Jon. "I'm an enhancer, originally. I also know a thing or two about arcane magic."

"You been practicing for long?" says Fangs.

"Practically since I was born. It had always been my duty to learn magic." says Jon.

A cold breeze of wind dubiously blows past them. Jon shivers for a second and starts looking around himself, startled.

"What was that?" asks Jon.

"That's something we call 'the wind', man, can you concentrate for a moment?" says Fangs. Jon continues to listen to Fangs, still suspicious. "I'll teach you how to do conjuring."

"Okay, how should I chant?" asks Jon.

"You don't chant, you hum." says Fangs.

"Oh, right... My bad." Says Jon, looking at Fangs. "Show me how it's done."

"Come on." says Fangs.

---

In the afternoon, almost at the end of the road through the woods, Jon stands, humming a convoluted tune, concentrating on a patch of dirt on the ground with a finger-drawn circle around it.

"Remember, concentrate and visualize the thought, just like you use your enhance magic." says Fangs. "But also remember, for conjuring, you gotta concentrate hard, picture the conjuration exactly how you want it done. Conjuration is complex, your thoughts gotta be complex as well."

After a moment of thorough concentration and humming, orange mana starts to formulate out of Jon's hands, circling the patch of dirt. A small shape starts to form.

"Yes! You're doin' it!" cries Fangs, excited. "Come on! Harder, baby, harder!"

Jon starts getting frustrated and tired. He struggles to hold up, ultimately falling to the floor after losing balance of his mechanic leg.

The figure becomes a small, gray slime monster, the size of Jon's palm. The monster slugs about, very, very slowly.

"Well shit!" cries Jon, frustrated and angry.

"It's fine, 'twas a good start." says Fangs.

"Start?! We've been doing this shit for six hours!" cries Jon.

"Still a good start." shrugs Fangs.

Jon looks at the slime. After a few slugs, the slime disappears due to its entire material running out in its sluggish trail.

"Okay, okay, look, I give up.. You do the conjuring, I'll do the real magic." says Jon.

"I'm sorry, real what now?" asks Fangs.

"Y'know, the magic that involves actual fighting, real men's magic." says Jon.

"Whatever man." Fangs blurts carelessly, as he starts walking down the road. Jon follows.

"We can both mentor the guy, can't we?" says Jon.

"Who, the prince?" says Fangs. "I mean... Sure, man, if he pays good."

"It's the prince we're talking about!" says Jon, laughing. "Of course he fucking pays good!"

Another breeze of wind courses through the area, stronger than the one before. Jon is startled once again, this time more suspicious.

"This again?" says Jon, looking around, confused.

"What?" says Fangs.

"Can't you feel this?" says Jon.

"Feel what?" says Fangs.

"The wind, there's something fishy about it!" says Jon.

Fangs starts looking around, clearly not as suspicious as Jon.

"I don't know, nothing's bitin' my hook out here." says Fangs.

A large wooden log roughly drops in front of them, blocking their path and startling them.

"What was that?!" cries Jon, looking around, trying to observe the source of the sudden movement.

Quickly, a group of goblin bandits in ragged brown clothes with brown masks made of leather jump out of the bushes, almost 12 of them, surrounding Jon and Fangs, raising long knives and daggers towards them.

"Meh, just a buncha bandits." sighs Fangs.

"Come on, dump all ye got on the grass." says one bandit, staring them down.

"We don' gotta waste our time and energy here." says another, which seems to be the oldest and the only one with a helmet, that looks to be made of flint.

"You guys are joking, right?" says Fangs.

"Look, we got nothing on us," says Jon, annoyed and frustrated, "My village was just slaughtered by the dark lord, we barely got-"

"The dark lord!" gasps one bandit, taken back. "Is he coming this way?"

"He probably left, man," says Fangs. "Look, we're kinda tired here and we don't wanna go through the effort of chopping your heads off, aight?"

"What about the wards?" cries another bandit. "Were they with the dark lord?! Did ye see them?!"

"You got a coin or something?" Jon says to Fangs, exasperated. "Anything to throw at them so they can fuck off?"

"So... you got nothing at all?" calls the furthest bandit, disappointed.

"Well, shit." says the oldest, shaking his head.

"Yeah, just.. go find someone else to rob. There's a town almost twelve miles north, bet you'll find a lot of carts coming and going there." says Jon.

"And the villagers... they're all dead?" calls the furthest bandit again.

One of the least talking bandits steps up, licking his lips, lustfully. "You had women in your village, right?" he says.

-

A moment of awkward silence.

-

"Okay that's fucked up." says Jon, unsheathing his blade and taking a step closer. "You guys are fucked now."

"Ooh!" remarks the oldest bandit, as now the bandits seem to take interest in his blade. "The blade you wield! The runes! They reek of fairness and royalty! Give it to me, it is mine!"

"Yeah, it's yours alright," calls Jon. "You're all getting a taste of it, especially you."

Jon points towards the lip-licker. He looks around and points at himself confused.

"Yeah you, don't play dumb, this is going right up your ass."

The bandits start taking their battle stances, preparing their knives and daggers and taking short steps forwards. Jon grows madder and prepares to move, before Fangs holds him back with his left arm

"Wha-"

"Alright, first lesson," starts Fangs. "Watch me, and try to trace my pattern."

Fangs starts waving his hands around his body, humming a dark and breath-like hum. Orange mana starts to circle his figure as he starts to slightly glow with an elegant orange shine. The bandits are taken back.

"Mages!" calls one of the bandits, shocked.

"Don't buy the bluff," says the oldest, "Go at 'em!"

The bandits start approaching, but before they make it three steps closer, the mana surrounding Fangs takes a bear-like form, engulfing Fangs, and becomes a big black bear, almost 10 feet tall, with dark orange glowing eyes and sharp fangs. He growls loudly and in a sharp manner, erecting a pair of huge claws and jumping at one of the bandits.

"Shit!" cries the bandit, before the bear pounces at him and grabs him with his fangs by the chest, almost instantly shredding through his torso and ripping his intestines apart, before crushing his ribcage and heart and ending his life.

The bear claws the nearest bandit, splitting him in three parts that each fly in different directions, as a huge splatter of blood washes upon the bear's crazed face.

Jon watches, entertained. He takes a seat on a nearby log and starts munching on a bunch of nuts that Fangs left.

"I like this." he says, still chewing-

-I dont even know why I'm narrating this, it's just fucking pathetic, there isn't even any conflict, he's just bringing down hell on all of the poor little bitches. There he goes, grabbing two bandits and squeezing them into each other with his hands closed, opening them to reveal a big ball of bloody pulp and crushed bones. What a bunch of pussies.

It's just a boring one-sided battle that probably would only work in a big-budget film, let's skip over-

-Without much hesitation, the rest of the goblins start to run away.

"Yeah, you better run!" calls the bear.

"I will not forget this, freaks!" calls the oldest, as he disappears into the woods.

Fangs returns to his normal form and sits next to Jon, resting. His hairy face seems to be sweating profusely, he takes a towel out of his backpack and starts wiping his face and taking his breath.

"So, whatcha think? That real enough for you?" says Fangs.

"Pretty cool." says Jon, genuinely impressed. "Still disappointed I couldn't stick my sword or even just a stick up that guy's ass."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," says Fangs. "That guy's gonna live his life with a stick up his ass from now on."

They stay still for a moment, watching the horizon. Jon turns to Fangs.

"Hey, Fangs," says Jon, "do you come up with those one-liners on the spot or do you have them all written down somewhere?"