The Serpent
Prologue
Alone, grasping, restless, and isolated. The woods were dark and shadows took a frightening visage at every turn. The day had long since gone and night settled over the woods. Creatures of children's nightmares roamed free, most assured they would taste drops of blood that night.
Common folk often feared what lay in wait, what lay in the dark, and they certainly should. The beasts that conceal themselves in the darkness, waiting like a savage predator, would tear a normal man, woman, or child to shreds without a second thought, merely to satisfy their primal desires. What place do humans or demi-humans alike have in this savage wilderness with their frail bodies and self-importance cast in the shadow of natural selection?
The so-called adventuring caste is one such group which has long since wrote legends of their exploits in standing up against these dangers. Some come for the fame and glory, some for treasure, lore, power, and all manner of other rhyme and reason draws these men and women into the oncoming path of danger, all too ready to bear its fangs at them. Many die and are never seen again. For those who survive, some leave after their first taste of battle. The affects of mental trauma setting in. Some could argue that those who stay in the lifestyle suffer their own sort of mental trauma and ... they may be right.
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Many had come to the forest which this man now was. The stories surrounding the place told of wraiths, ghouls, and trees which would come to life, and devour the hopes of the living in sickening crunches and moaning wood as the roots strained to drag what was not devoured into the hard soil of the forest floor. Why was he here and what did he hope to accomplish? It was a question that circled his mind like water in a drain, especially now, especially in the shadow of the maw of the forest. Blood trickled down his face and the salty sweat did no justice to cloud the pain he felt. Though physical pain was so very little, next to the emotional turmoil that wracked at his mind. So deep was the scarring that he had become numb to the world around him, numb to those who had cared in a previous lifetime. He had come to the forest to find purpose, a reason to live, a reason to go on. After all, he was pulled from the jaws of death itself. What reason was there now?
What he found? The villagers living at the edge of the forest say he faced a great tree-like beast with naught but a knife between his teeth and lightning at his heels, with the speed he displayed. Though to villagers, a dire badger might seem fierce. An adventurer? They may as well be a god personified in humanoid form. It was conjecture regardless, as the villagers cowered in their beds until morning light and saw naught. No one but the man would truly know what transpired in the woods that night. -- Through all of the fabrication and tall tales, one thing remained a stark constant through the villagers stories.
The man who left the woods come the morn', was not the same who entered the previous night. The serpent which coiled his torso and the expression upon his face told a darker story than the villagers could fathom. He was a renewed man, with a new sense of purpose, and a new baring on life. Where he would travel, the villagers hoped not be in his wake. They believed the creature which now accompanied the man was a curse of the forest. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps.
