Here is chapter 4. It is a fairly big chapter in this story. Well hope you enjoy!



Chapter 4: Hard Memory

Wes lay there, awake. They’ve arranged to stay the night at the inn that they were in now, then participate in the tournament tomorrow. Wes felt nervous about the tournament. He expected Dark Wood City to be now bigger then the other cities he’s been in before, which were fairly small to be called cities. But this place was massive, it dwarfed all the other places easily. Who knew how many people were going to be in the tournament, could be a hundred, maybe two.

If he actually had Fury here he’d feel better, Wes knew Fury could take a hard fight. But Rancher said he’d lend Wes one of his. Wes didn’t know Rancher’s monsters capabilities. He hardly knew what they could do at all. He chose to take King since he knew Hares better then Hoppers or Golems. Though he thought that a Golem’s massive strength would be easier to use then a Hare’s attack and back out, or consistently attacking methods. But then again, he just felt comfortable with them.

Wes remembered back when he was 6. He remembers that his father was a rancher. He was training a Hare at the time. A green one, a Scaled Hare. Wes remembers that it was superb at its combo attacks. But then one day it caught a horrible disease. Some form of a lung disease, which cause it to cough and hack all night and day. Then finally its lungs failed and it died. After that Wes’ father stopped training for some reason. He was busy with something else…. a project.

“Project…” Wes mouthed, thing to remember what it was.


Wes close his eyes trying to concentrate on what it was. He remembered back then…. around the time of his departure from his family. Back 8 years ago.


Wes lived in a very small town of no more then 100 people. There sat, in the middle of green plane, a few columns of houses, a handful of ranches, and a small section of stores and merchant stands. It was peaceful, very peaceful. His father was a rancher, who had successfully raised a suezo, named Mack, who was still alive, a zuum named Tuck, which was also still alive, and his very successful A- class Scaled Hare, Lemm. Wes’ father also worked as a weapon smith outside a couple miles from the village. Wes always wanted to go to the smith but his father said it was to dangerous.

The neighbor was also a rancher. But he was a far better one then Wes’ father. He had only one monster that Wes knew of and that was a Dragon. Wes couldn’t remember the name of the dragon, but it was a name that Wes didn’t like anyway. Sounded to foreign.

“Dad what have you been doing. I haven’t seen you for 2 days,” asked the young Wes, looking up at his father.
“Nothing you’d be interested in Wes,” his father replied smiling down at his son.
“Nuh uh. I wanna know,” exclaimed Wes, who had a mix of curiosity in his voice.
“You’ll get to see soon enough, remember I can’t take you there because it’s so dangerous. Some day when your older you can go, but until then you’ll have to wait,” his father returned.
“But isn’t 2 days a while to be at a smith?” asked Wes, a little frustrated that his father wouldn’t take him to the smith. His father just returned a meaning full glare and walked past Wes into the master bedroom.

Wes remembered how his father would do that every day, walk into the bedroom like that when he got home from the smith. He’d walk in there to see his wife, Wes’ mother, who had died of cancer. Wes’ father only did that still now, in hope that some miracle had put Wes’ mother back in there alive. Wes didn’t remember what his mother looked like, he was only 3 when she died.

Wes stood there, disgusted that his father couldn’t trust his own son like that, that the place is too dangerous for little kids. Wes didn’t think of himself as a little kid, he was 8, he was a big kid.

That night he went to bed early. He was abruptly awoken by a loud thunderous bang. He bolted up in his bed stirring about in the dark. He heard someone yell outside, something that hunted him to this day…

“Run everyone! Run as far as possible, as fast as possible! Run or you will die a horrible death! Run it has escaped!” then this is what Wes has been wondering about all these years, “It has escaped, it is out! The project is out Project…” the word was cut off by a blast. A blast the ripped through Wes’ wall ripping it to ribbons and knocking Wes into a waiting blackness.

He awoke, it was still night. Perhaps the next day’s night, Wes didn’t know. He was hungry, his clothes hung in tatters, and hair tangled beyond recognition. He sat atop a small hill, overlooking what was his town. Or, what used to be his town. He found himself staring at a devastating visage of a town broken, blasted, smoking, and smoldering, and it was nothing more then piles of cinders, ruins and remnants of previously familiar buildings.

He found next to him a short sword. A heavy, silver, polished blade. The pommel was gold with brown padding covering the grip. An inscription was carved in the base of the blade. It was a name, two simple words. James Swordsmith, Wes’ father’s name. Wes fell to his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks. It hurt, it was dark, the only lights were the flames of the ignited buildings. It was quiet, even the crackling flames seemed to be silent.

Something though, seemed wrong. That! Wes saw a large black figure moving across the town, slowly. Wes couldn’t hear anything from the creature. The creature stalked into the woods toward the back of the town. The blackness enveloped him, like ink, it poured over him. Wes felt something when he saw the creature, a cold feeling. Perhaps it was the slight breeze wandered over the plane like a vile phantom that threatened to freeze all. But it certainly felt unnatural, evil, sickening.

What vile evil as fate sent toward Wes? What was it, what was this “Project” that Wes has been bestowed to handle with? What catastrophe has struck Wes’ town, and why did it happen?

Wes walked down slowly toward the town, short sword in hand. Tears blurred his vision. He walked into the ruins of what he believed to use to be his house. He found nothing but pieces of wall. He rummaged through some of the debris of other houses. All around the place, ruins, and skeletons. The skeletons were all blackened, they were burnt.

He lay in the bed, in the inn, in Dark Wood City now. Rancher, Killa Kan, King and Skippy were all ignorant of Wes’ past. Replaying the horrible past that he lived. He remembered the memories that were so hard to forget the hard memories.



-Nicholas D. Wolfwood-

good continuation. you might notice i provided a significant edit, however. the lesson here is that spellcheck does not correct homonyms.