The Stathmore Chronicles

Chapter 1 Part 1

The colossal behemoth charged in fury towards a small village where a few brave souls huddled on the slopes of a vast, forested mountain. Liquid fire streamed from the monster's mouth, forming a vast tidal wave of plasma that turned the very air itself purple as it bore down relentlessly towards the huddled families. Death was inevitable. As the beast advanced, lightning shot from it and devour the stately trees, consuming their once unparalleled majesty in a matter of seconds. The monster lunged, sensing the fear in his prey, knowing the battle was won. But suddenly, out of nowhere, a gargantuan bolt of ice shot from the sky, quenching the flames of the hideous beast in an instant, as though heaven itself were tired of the rampage. The villagers huddled closer in terror, wondering what this new threat was. The beast turned its attention to the sky and roared with hatred and rage at being sabotaged in his pursuit of blood. The very mountain itself quaked with its trumpeting, and rocks fell from on high, disturbed by the cacophonous barrage.

Five hundred years earlier, a solitary guardian leaned against the wall of his hut. He was tired from a day fighting for his village against the usual assortment of petty monsters, skeleton armies and the occasional cockatrice. His sword lay on the browned and trampled grass, still dirty with the black blood of the creatures. His wife was inside the hut preparing him bandages to treat the wounds of the morning. The battle today had been especially gruesome. They were getting that way, harder and harder each year. The village, named Stathmore after its founder, was situated on the vast slopes of a lusciously forested mountain famed for its beauty across the land. The villagers sold their wooden carvings for a living, and anything made from Stathmore's powerful wood had the unfortunate tendency to start fairy tales and legends. For these were no ordinary trees. Each tree had a special and unique power bound within its fibers that could be used to make knickknacks, furniture, and boards with unique qualities that ranged from being more durable and sturdy than iron, to healing the owner of the item, to just about any imaginable effect. Some wood produced ice for no reason anyone could see, while wood from a different tree could burn for hours and not even be charred.

"Daddy, tell me a story!" A child ran out of the hut and tugged on his leg. "I want a story, but Mommy says she's too busy so I should go out and bug you." He smiled and knelt down. "My beautiful Evia." He brought his hand up and caressed the little girl's fresh, rosy, and youthful cheek. "For you, anything, my dear."

He was interrupted by his wife yelling from inside the cottage. "Osmond, honey, your bandages are almost ready!"

He said to the little girl: "Wait here one minute while I go talk to mommy." He got up and walked to the cottage door and smiled at the sight of his lovely wife with pushed-up sleeves and bare arms tenderly preparing bandages for him. "My dear, I will be in as soon as I can, but first I promised Evia a story. His wife came to the door and he gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

"All right, dear, but those wounds won't heal themselves, so do try to hurry, " she cautioned.

Osmond teased: "Very well my love, I will follow your command with my last breath."

She smiled and replied: "Well, if you are insolent enough to be late, I shall just have to make sure your wounds are painful before I soothe them!" She gave him a playful glare. "Now go on and spoil that child before you come in." She kissed him lightly on the cheek again before walking back inside, smiling and humming to herself.

Osmond walked back out to Evia with an expression of sheer happiness on his face. He sat down on the ground and lifted his daughter into his lap. "Now dear, where were we?" "You were gonna tell me a story, Daddy!" She giggled as he gently tickled her. "Daddy stop it, that tickles!" "Okay honey, but you see if you don't tell me what story you want, I can't tell you anything!" "Tell me the story of our village! You always make it sound so cool! I want to hear about all the big scary monsters you fight!" Osmond caressed her blonde curls.