A few years ago Lawdog and I had this idea for a story set in the Forgotten Realms. Fan fiction at its worst, but after a while we realized we might actually have a story in the making. The only problem was the mammoth task of removing everything that could get us a C&D letter delivered by scary guys dressed in black from Wizards of the Coast. It has sat in the "to edit" pile for a LONG time. What you see below is one of the MANY starts and stops to the story. Yes, it's trite and cliche and all that, but it was fun.
I figure since my muse is still on hiatus I'd dig this out and share it...for what it's worth.
-Tole
Journey
from Terra
There
were nine of them. All of them are lethal alone, but together they had been
dubbed the Hand of Death by those who even knew they existed.
They
all had grown up together in the same small town. They started out as a small
security/bounty hunting firm in a small city in Texas. Not long after capturing
their fifth “Most Wanted” mostly
whole and alive and often without any serious injury to anyone on the team, a
man in a dark suit who supposedly worked for a government agency he just called
“Command” had contacted them about learning to “do it in the big leagues.”
The
team had been together for a little over a decade and had gotten out of more
nastiness than any one person should have to see. They had all been trained
together and they knew what each other was thinking often without even
realizing it. Watching them move through training exercises was a thing of both
beauty and terror. The number of missions was lost to history, but if there had
been trouble, The Hand had been there.
Morgan
is the unofficial leader of The Hand. They all hold the same rank, but Morgan
always seems to provide the guidance and planning. He is ruthless to his enemies, but fiercely
loyal to his friends. Like the rest of The Hand, he is well beyond proficient
with almost everything that can make folks dead.
His
wife, Kit, is an expert in covert tactics and the one who keeps Morgan from
being a serial killer. She is his second in command and his stabilizing force
when his eye gets twitchy.
Gene
is a hulk of a man, which is unusual for someone who makes his living being
sneaky. His 6’5”, 325 pound frame didn’t seem to affect his ability though, and
the last thing many of his targets had thought was “where the hell did he come
from?” He is an expert is close combat. If he gets close enough to touch you,
it’s already too late.
Gene’s
wife, Carrie, is the demolitions expert. She has a master’s degree in chemistry
and a PhD in “blowing shit up.” It’s been said that if she can’t blow it up, it
can’t be blown up, but she’ll sure as hell try. She’s tall enough to compliment
her husband, lithe, and not too shabby with a blade in her hand.
Jason,
Danny, and Matt are the scouts and recon for the group and a trio of death and
destruction. They almost function as a single being and help to put Morgan’s
plans back together when it all goes to hell. The rest of the team swears they
share a brain. More than once Gene has threatened to hit one of them just to
see if the others will bleed.
Mike
is the sniper and the one who usually covers The Hand’s extraction point and his
wife Lauren is his spotter. They can both handle themselves up close and
personal, but some of Mike’s shots have been put in the record books. Not any
record books that Joe Average would have seen, but they were written in a book
somewhere.
The
team’s current mission was the last for the month and was supposed to be a
cakewalk, or at least as close to a cakewalk as they get out here in the sand. There
was a Taliban cell holed up in a cave protecting a Mullah who had topped the
government’s list of those who need a lethal dose of lead poisoning. The Hand
had been tapped by Command’s local office to take care of it.
On
this particular occasion however, there was a problem. It did seem as though the
team was getting more and more of the shitty assignments lately. So here they
were, target neutralized, but pinned down in a cave after running a fighting
withdrawal. Mike’s position had been compromised, so he and Lauren were forced
to join the rest of The Hand in the field. They were pinned down by some
machine gunners who weren’t in the intel. As per their s.o.p. there was no
contact with support because they weren’t supposed to be where they were.
“Why
can’t things ever be as easy as they sound in mission briefings?” Morgan
exclaimed as he fired his weapon over the cover the group was pinned down
behind.
Gene’s
answer came through everyone’s ear piece with more than a little static. “Because
life would be too boring if it all went to plan. Besides, you’d be frustrated
and bitch about how there never was any challenge. Fucking crybaby.” The last
bit coming around choked off laughter.
“We
are so screwed,” Matt shouted into his headset.
Kit
yelled back, “What I want to know is where they hell those guys came from. They
weren’t on any of the satellite photos that I saw.”
“Me
either,” answered the other eight in unison.
Jason,
being the conspiracy nut of the group, piped off with, “Smacks of a set up to
me. It was bound to happen eventually. We’ve been at this too long. We know
enough to make some dangerous people nervous. That is almost always a recipe
for unpleasantness eventually.”
It
was at that moment that a glow appeared at the back of the cave where The Hand
was taking cover. The distraction cost them. Jason took a round in the leg when
he turned to see what the commotion was all about.
“Man
down!” shouted Mike. He grabbed Jason by his webbing and began to pull him to
the back of the cave and towards the glowing aperture that had appeared in the
formerly solid stone wall. The rest of the team fell back as well, and Mike
broke out his med kit. “Shit! It got the artery! I’ll clamp it for now, but if
we don’t get some help soon, he’s gonna bleed out.”
“Perhaps
I can offer a more acceptable alternative.” The voice had come from the
direction of the light, and when everyone turned they found a woman in
traveling leathers standing in the cave. “Quickly now, I believe that this area
is about to become most inhospitable.”
It
was then that the group heard the familiar whine of a drone on a bombing run coming
from the mouth of the cave. “Those fucking PRICKS!” shouted Morgan, and with
that they all followed this stranger through the gateway.
When
the haze cleared and everyone could see clearly again, the woman was knelt over
Jason giving him something to drink from a flask. He cried out and Morgan was
immediately on his feet with his weapon in hand. “Stay your weapon Sir. They
likely no longer function in any event,” she said. “I have given him an elixir
that will tend to his wounds. The process is painful, but he will be right
again soon.”
“Welcome
to my world,” she said as she stood and regarded the team. “Well that is
unexpected…It would seem that you have left your humanity behind somewhere
along the path. Interesting indeed, but what shall we call you? You are
obviously elves, but not a race I have seen before.”
It
was only then that Morgan noticed that his team had undergone something of a
transformation. It was also that moment that he noticed that he felt better
than he had in over a decade. Their skin was dark, almost ebon, and they all
had flame red hair. “Hold on just one damned minute lady,” Morgan barked. “Exactly
where the hell are we, and what the fuck just happened? Shit like that just
doesn’t happen.”
The
lady cocked an eyebrow at Morgan and the rest of The Hand, who had all come to
their feet and were eyeing her with barely contained urge to kill. “No, I
suppose it does not since magic hasn’t existed on your world for some time. It
took a great deal of effort to gather enough in that one location to open the
Way.”
The
Lady then paused to consider the group, “Yes. You’ll all do fine. My name is Sylandriel,
and I have been searching for a group such as you for a very long time. So long
in fact, that I had been forced to expand my search to other realms of
existence. I was overjoyed to find you. You were destined to end your lives in
that cave. In fact, as far as anyone on your world is concerned your bodies are
there to be found by those who abandoned you to die. The transformation is
unexpected, but you could have become anything. An elf is probably the best we
could have hoped for.”
“I
would ask that you join me, and serve me and those whom I protect, in much the
same way you have served your old home. Only here you will be more powerful and
dangerous than you can possibly imagine. I will never abandon you and will
never ask you to do anything that you do not see as just. All I ask in return
is your loyalty to me and to the citizenry of my realm. For now please consider
my offer as we travel. It is not safe to stand around in the open in these
woods. It almost dusk…hmm…Dusk Elves. Yes, that is fitting.”
With
that The Hand of Death became The Wolves of Sylandriel and a new legend began.
That was a long time ago, or at least it felt that way now.
