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Above me was a blue sky that appeared as if all its life had been drained from it, and in front of me was a city whose atmosphere shared the lifelessness of the air

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Above me was a blue sky that appeared as if all its life had been drained from it, and in front of me was a city whose atmosphere shared the lifelessness of the air. As I stepped forward in to the crumbled city, I was reminded of a passage from The Lost Chronicles by Arthren, a tome that contained some of the greatest poems of the third age:

Once would I have seen great sights

But now all is ruin

Oh, how I wish I could have been there

For the days of glories won

I had always felt a strange... closeness to that passage, even though its dark, haunting nostalgia for a time unremembered by Arthren gave it an atmosphere of gloomy discontent. I believe the poem spoke of hearing of the magnificent days of battle and conquest over the unknown territories of the world in the second age, but I had always heard a more creative interpretation that it was about her father, and hearing the grand stories he told her, contrasted with his old age. I, though I had always appreciated this idea, thought that Arthren simply longed for the grandiosity of the second age, before the Godly Conflicts had brought us so low.

"Hey, scrag," Jolly said, shaking me out of my train of thought. "This is about where we're gonna run inta some bumpers, so keep your head on straight."

"About how many?" I asked, my eyes darting around the empty, deserted buildings of the corrupted city. In some windows, I could see signs that said 'OPEN', 'SALE' or even 'GET YOUR FESTIVAL SUPPLIES HERE'. It was as if the entire city had been abandoned then mercilessly warped in to some sort of pseudo-hellscape.

"More than ya can shake a stick at." Jolly replied. "Keep the talkin' to a minimum, never know when-"

As if on cue, the faintest sound of someone wearing plate armor walking toward us sounded in the distance. The eerie silence of the city was useful in this regard, alerting us to the presence of this newcomer.

"Quick, hide!" Jolly whispered frantically, pulling me by the sleeve of my shirt with him as he hastily opened the door of one of the street-side shops. The bell above the door rung loudly as we entered, and before I knew it I had been thrown in to the shop, and the door was slamming behind us.

"What in the hells was that?" I whispered to him.

"Bumpers." Jolly answered, peeking out the shop's windows in to the empty street. He turned to me and sighed.

"They're not like any you've ever seen before." He said quietly. "They're smarter, at least most of them, than your average hell-freak that you'd come across while travellin' just a little too close to some accursed mountain or lake or somethin'. They like to move, and they like to set up little traps, too. They're a blight upon this blighted world. Here they come. Hide."

I looked around the room, a dust-covered memory of a shop that seemed to be doing quite well, five years ago, that is. It was a clothing store, one that seemed to specialize in high-quality commoners' clothing. Hiding myself behind a short shelf full of embroidered tunics, I crouched down with my back against it, trying to calm my breathing.

I wondered why I was having such a rough day. I wasn't on my guard as well as usual, I let Jolly grab hold of me before I could even react. And then, even as I feared for my life, I had trouble calming my breathing, and maintaining focus in the face of death.

I was rusty.

Whatever had happened, or not happened, in that five-year time gap had weakened my skills somehow, but even as the shop door slowly opened, my mind went in to high-gear. Immediately I felt for my sword, grasping the hilt as a low growling noise met my ears. The clank of plate metal, the putrid smell that often accompanied the monstrous corruptions that tainted our once-beautiful world. I reprimanded myself internally for having such poetic thoughts in a time of crisis, but such was the nature of my heart.

I could hear them now, ever so close, the sound of hard metal boots against the creaky wooden floor. The constant sound of labored breathing accompanied these heavy footsteps. Whether this newcomer was a 'bumper' or not remained to be seen, but I wasn't about to take any chances. I held my breath and silently prayed to the gods that who, or whatever this creature was would not find us.

A tall, lanky creature in torn metal armor walked past the shelf on my left, its face mangled and pocked, but otherwise featureless. It was as if it was a battle-scarred blank slate, whose identity was nothing but battle. Still, in gravelly, forced words, it began to speak.

"Come on out, ya little maggots, I won't hurt ya for long." His head looked from side to side as if he could see normally, which terrified me further. My back was flush with the shelf, and all I could do was rely on the gods to protect me, to keep me out of its sight. The beauty of this world was marred by creatures like these, these horrors from some twisted fantasy. What was truly frightening, however, above all else, was their intelligence. Multiple had now demonstrated it: the creature stomped throughout the clothing store, knocking in to, and sometimes over, racks and shelves of hand-wove garments. At a glance, especially in these darker conditions, it might have even appeared to be a common thug, but the truth of what it was, or perhaps even who? That remained to be seen. Whatever it was, it was not human, and it hated us.

My heart sank down, down, down, in to my chest when it turned to face me.

"There ya are, little maggot..." it said quietly, approaching me. I stood, facing it, and drew my sword.

"I do not wish to kill you." I said sternly, taking a step forward to emphasize my point. "Leave me in peace, and I will do likewise to you."

It then drew, from its side, a chipped and mangled sword, much like its own face.

"I don't think so." It replied. I looked down quickly, assessing what was in front of my feet. A couple of racks of clothing, would they be enough to slow it down? I decided I wouldn't take the chance. I stepped to the side, in to a main through-way between racks and shelves. It mirrored me.

After a moment of quiet prayer, I struck with silent fury.

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