From the Pile of Unfinished Junk

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.