The mighty beast crawled up from the depths of the caverns below, through a massive crevice in the floor. His claws tore the stone flooring as he hauled his weight up into the room, his long snake-like neck shifting to turn the head to peer down upon the sacrificial alter in the middle of the room. A lip curled back in a devilish grin, immaculate fangs glinting in the flickering candle light. Most excellent, the dragon thought, another minion to factor into my plans. With twisted pleasure, he flayed open his newest pawn, taking his time to gather energy for his breath weapon.  A throaty, rumbling laughter filled the room as the dragon watched the young sapien’s eyes fill with indescribable agony.  Once all was prepared, he reared back his mighty head, a deep rumbling coming from the depths of his body. Jaws snapped open and his head lurched forwards, unleashing a torrent of black flame.
Sol sat up in bed with a yell, the covers flying away from him. He was drenched in a cold sweat, his body shaking so violently that he could feel his four poster bed rattling. He stared down at his hands, his head lowering to rest in his palms as he gasped for air. A moment or two later the door flew open, the landlord standing in the doorway as light flooded in.
“Blackflame, you alright boy?” came the old man’s voice. The severity of the boy’s shakes had decreased; he merely suffered a shiver or two now. He turned his head, olive eyes landed on the landlord and he nodded slowly.
“Yes…just a bad dream.”
“Alright…just keep it down, other patrons need to sleep too,” the landlord looked skeptical, but he left the room. He sighed heavily and swept strands of drenched hair back with his hand before he lay down and closed his eyes.
The morning came without further incident, which relieved Sol quite a bit. He got out of bed and dressed, replaying the dream in his mind. It was the same dream he had been having for years, ever since he’d left home. He got out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. He was an average height, his body built to perfection. Lean muscle coiled and rolled, gently defined under light skin, his body giving no warning to the prodigious strength he truly held. Sighing, he gathered shoulder length hair together and pulled it into a pony tail, getting dressed afterwards. He gathered his things and left the room, heading downstairs into the restaurant under the inn. There were a few other patrons sitting at tables, eating breakfast, the landlord was behind the bar and he smiled when Sol came down.  
“Mornin boy, how you feelin?” he asked as he wiped down the counter.
“Much better now, thanks Geraldo,” Sol said with a smile as he set his bag on the floor and took a seat on a stool at the counter, resting his elbows on it. The old man grunted and whapped Sol in the shoulder with the rag, making him start and laugh, taking his elbows from the countertop and putting his hands in his lap. Geraldo nodded and smirked as he turned and headed through the doorway to the kitchens, to prepare a meal as Sol glanced around quietly at the other patrons. His eyes rested on a group of men at a round table in the corner, they were discussing something in low but excited tones. Sol frowned; turning his head away…it wasn’t his business. By then, Geraldo had come back and set a plate of eggs, sausage, bacon and toast in front of him with a tall glass of orange juice.
“Thanks old man…your wife’s cooking is fantastic,” Sol said with a grin, taking up his fork and tucking into his eggs with relish.
“I’ll be sure to tell her that,” Geraldo replied with a smile, watching him eat and eyeing those fangs. He had noticed Sol’s irregular teeth the very first time he had arrived a week ago. It was one of Geraldo’s hobbies to examine people when they came in and take note of details of interest. When he had seen Sol’s fangs, he found them so outlandish he asked about them without thinking, earning him a gaze so piercingly strong it felt as if the boy had been boring into his very soul. He froze on the spot until the gaze was lifted; the boy’s reply was simply, ‘they’ve been this way since I was born’.  After that, the landlord had never been foolish enough to speak without choosing his words carefully around Sol, and they seemed to form a bit of an unspoken bond because of it.
“So, headin out today?” Geraldo asked. Sol nodded as he swallowed a mouthful of food and took a drink from his glass.
“Yeah, a week’s worth of rest is more than enough,” he laughed, “I think maybe I have stayed too long, encroaching on the bounds of you and your wife’s hospitality so long without pay.”
“Nonsense boy, we have plenty of other visitors to help us line our pockets with silver and gold. As I told you when you first arrived, I’ll tell you again. You’ve paid us with your good humor, kind nature, and generous help. We’d be most offended if you paid us money on top of that.”
Sol blinked and smiled, warmed by the landlord’s kind words, “Thank you my friend. It is most appreciated.”
Geraldo waved him off with a smile, which Sol returned and went on about finishing his breakfast. There was a loud crash from the corner, which caused Sol and Geraldo to turn and look at the men at the round table. The largest of them had stood and slammed his hands on the table, knocking off two glasses, and began yelling loudly at the man across from him. Geraldo frowned and started to walk around the counter but Sol shook his head and smiled, saying, “I’ll take care of it.”
He slid off his stool and walked over to the table and slid his hands into the pockets of his sturdy leather travelling pants, his boots thudding gently on the wooden floor planks. The man was still yelling when he arrived at the table, and Sol tapped on his shoulder. He spun around and glared upon the impotent intruder.
Sol’s voice was calm and polite as he addressed the man, “Excuse me. You’re being rather loud and rude to our other patrons, so if you wouldn’t mind quieting down it would be most appreciated. The alternative of course being that I can remove you from the establishment if you refuse to comply.”
The men looked at him with blank expressions for a moment before they all laughed uproariously; the man he was facing chuckled.
“You? Boy, you barely look fit to ‘force’ the old man out of here. Now go back to your breakfast before you get yourself hurt.”
“I offer you only one more warning. Quiet down, leave, or be forced.”
All laughter ceased when the mean realized that the boy wasn’t joking. The room became silent as the tension increased to breaking point, the other men started to stand as the large man glared down into the boy’s unwavering eyes.
“Nobody threatens the bandit lord Jerith without consequences boy,” he growled.
Sol stepped back suddenly and ducked under a fast punch, shifting his weight on his heels he reached up, locking the man’s forearm under his own armpit and putting the other hand under the arm to brace it as he spun and pulled. The man’s feet left the floor as the boy went low and then back up, letting him go after a full turn and launching him over the men’s heads into the sturdy support beam behind their table. He slammed into the pole with his side, a sickening crack came from his ribs as two of them broke and he fell to the floor with a thud, groaning.
“Consequences indeed,” the boy murmured.
Sol walked over calmly and reached down, gripped the back of the man’s leather vest and hauled him off the floor with a single tug. He walked to the door and opened it, quite literally tossing the man out with ease. With that he turned to look at the astonished faces of the other men, stepping away from the door and motioning them out. They clamored over each other to run out and assist their fallen leader as the boy gently shut the door and returned to his stool to finish his juice.
“So this is it then, eh boy?”
Sol nodded and smiled gently, he stood outside of the Inn facing Geraldo and his wife.
“Yeah, I think it’s about time this tumbleweed caught another breeze and moved along,” he said with a laugh. Geraldo chuckled and smiled, he had been like that when he was young. He stepped forward and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, smiling.
“You’ve been a wonderful guest Master Blackflame, my wife and I were happy to have you and we hope that we will see you again sometime.”
Geraldo’s wife stepped to him; holding out a bundle wrapped in cloth and smiled, “Provisions. Salted pork, deer jerky, cheese and bread, it won’t last but a week or so but I doubt you’ll have trouble finding food after it’s gone.”
Sol accepted the package happily and stowed it in his travel pack, bowing gently to them.
“Thank you both for your kind hospitality and understanding nature. I am sure that our paths will cross again,” he turned and began to walk, glancing back over his shoulder and waving with a smile, “until then, may the road rise up to meet you and the sun always shine upon your backs.”
He turned, facing the plains ahead of him with a warm smile, stepping up his pace to a healthy stride that carried him down the dirt pathway that would lead across the heart of the Great Plains. Geraldo and his wife watched him go, his wife giving a sigh at his side.
“Poor boy, all alone without a family or a home to return to…and not even a companion to travel with, it’s a pity. I would have liked to have him stay.”
The old man chuckled, “I think he’ll be fine, that boy is strong. He has a good heart and steel will. Sol’s the kinda’ fella that goes about changing the world.”
They watched him until he walked over a little hill and down the other side, disappearing from view. His wife turned and went back inside to attend to the other patrons, Geraldo watching the spot where the boy had once been.
“The best of luck to you boy, I know you’ll need it.”
The area known as the Great Plains covered a very large portion of the continent, countless dirt trails crossed the plains from almost every direction and location, giving it a veined appearance from above. Sections of trees and bushes dotted the area around the trails, like miniature forests amidst a sea of short grass. Most of the trails were used by traders, but ordinary travelers used the pathways as well when they intended to cross the plains. Like anywhere else; however, the plains had their dangers. Because of their wide open spaces and little cover, it was very hard to elude a pursuer out on the grasslands. Also, the spots of trees and brush made it easy for bandits to ambush caravans and travelers to pillage and murder.  It was not uncommon to happen upon the burned and destroyed remnants of a wagon and its passengers.
None of this concerned Sol, of course. He was plenty capable of fending off a couple humans with swords. It had been two days and a night since he left the inn and the sun was beginning to set on the end of the second day. He sighed faintly, he would need to find a bit of cover to sleep in this time. Last night he had gone without sleep, it was not wise to let one’s guard down on the plains without someone to watch your back. A thunderous rumbling came to his ears and he blinked - hoof beats. He counted at least five horses, picking up shouting and the crackling of fire as well, must be a bandit attack. Sol picked up his pace and jogged up the side of the hill, standing atop of it to glance down at the scene below him.
There were five horses running a circle around an overturned wagon made of white wood, the horses that had been pulling the wagon lay dead with arrows protruding from their necks and chests. Sol’s eyes scanned the wreckage, looking for signs of life as his nose wrinkled against the stench of death. He spotted the sixth bandit. Sol recognized the man as Jerith, the one who he had thrown out of the inn yesterday, sitting on his horse with a torch. Just as he was about to go down he stopped, hearing the flit of an arrow as it was released from a bow. Sol crouched and narrowed his eyes, watching as one of the bandits’ horses was struck in the flank and it broke from the circle. It whinnied in pain and bucked it’s rider to the dirt, throwing itself to the ground to roll off of its injured leg. Focusing his sight on the rear of the carriage he spotted an opening where there had once been a plank, seeing the tip of another arrow being thrust out as it was aimed. Whoever was in there was skilled, which was good for Sol, he didn’t have to worry about them.
Keeping low he moved quickly to the right of the bandits, staying behind the leader as he slid in silence the rest of the way down the hill, crouched at its base to pause and make sure he remained undetected. He slipped out of his pack and left it there, stalking slowly towards the rear of the bandit leader’s horse.
“Hurry it up men! If we hang out here any longer we won’t make it back to Stonewall before they shut the gates for the night!” Jerith barked, waving the torch.
Sol was only a few feet behind the bandit leader now; he opened his left hand as he moved slowly towards him, wispy black tendrils of flame writhing around his hand. He stopped for a moment and crouched, resting on his toes and the fingertips of his right hand, preparing to pounce.
“Lord Jerith, look out behind you!”
Sol launched himself backwards just as his left hand burst into black flame; a blade cleaved the ground where he had been seconds before. The bandit that had been bucked from his horse had apparently seen him, and snuck around to protect Jerith. The bandit lord spun his horse around and Sol cursed, he had been so focused on his target that he had let his guard down and lost the element of surprise. He jerked his body to the left but darted to the right, making the bandit swing in the wrong direction as he altered his direction quickly and spun on his heel, swinging his leg and kicking the sword out of the man’s hand. Stunned, the bandit froze and looked at Sol with a slack jaw. Sol’s body blurred as he dropped low, his leg sweeping out his opponent’s feet and finished the spin with a leap. He turned his body in the air and slammed his fist into the man’s face, making the back of his head slam into the ground with a dull thud. A look of slight panic crossed over Jerith’s face as he leaned away from the boy, the horse stepping backwards against the bit.
“Men! Forget the damn wagon and come protect your bandit lord!” he roared, his voice cracking.
Smirking, Sol stood up as the other bandits came over and leapt off their horses, brandishing swords and axes and jeering at the boy derisively. He knelt down and gripped the handle of the sword he had relinquished from the bandit, eyed it and grinned as he turned around. Sol spun the blade and took a stance, then motioned for them to attack with a sneer. The bandits rushed to him with reckless abandon, figuring that their numbers would give them the upper hand and allow them to defeat their single opponent easily – that was a mistake.  Sol sidestepped a downward slash nimbly and spun on his heel, thrusting his blade into the bandit’s side almost down to the hilt, then yanked it back out to parry a straight thrust. Stepping in, he turned and slammed his elbow into the second bandit’s face, then spun the other way and slashed the sword with blinding speed. A red line appeared on the bandit’s throat and then it split, a crimson tide flowing forth from his neck; he fell to his knees as the life faded from his eyes. The third and fourth bandits attacked at the same time, coming from either side of him. One swung a hand axe down at his shoulder, the other thrusting a small silver dagger at his neck from the other side. He put the blade up, stopping the axe before it cleaved his skin and jerked his head in a risky move, catching the dagger’s blade in his teeth and yanking it from the bandit’s grip. Thin crimson streaks painted themselves on his skin, flowing down from the corners of his mouth as he twisted the wrist of the hand with the sword, jerking the axe from his opponent’s grip. Sol reached and caught the axe, then pulled it across and flicked his wrist. The next moment the axe appeared lodged between the bandit’s eyes, throwing him off his feet from the force of the impact. Sol jerked back around sharply to face the other bandit, taking the dagger from his mouth and slammed it straight into his throat down to the handle.
He stood, leaving the knife lodged in the bandit’s neck as his eyes landed on Jerith. The fifth bandit yelled out in fear and turned, tripping over himself to get to his horse and ride off. Jerith turned, watching the traitor flee.
“Coward! How dare you run away!” the bandit lord cried out after him.
“Your reign of terror is over Jerith, bandit lord, and so is your life,” Sol spoke with a sneer.
He advanced on the bandit lord, who turned his horse and began to gallop away as fast as he could. Sol darted forwards with a speed inhuman, leaping ahead and bounding off a tree to Jerith’s right. The bandit lord yelled in shock and fear, yanking back on the reigns and causing the horse to dig its hind hooves into the ground, rearing up with a whinny of protest. Sol’s hand came out, a palm pressed gently to the beast’s skull as his leg swung around and slammed into Jerith’s side. Jerith roared in agony as he was launched from his horse, landing on his side in the dirt and groaning in pain as he rolled onto his back. Sol had calmed the horse and stood upon its back, pulling his arm back he launched the sword, watching it slam into Jerith’s chest. The bandit lord gasped; instinctively his hands reached out and gripped the blade as it sunk into him. Jerith had pulled it halfway out when it forced itself back into him, the hilt slammed into his chest plate. He looked up at a grinning Sol, his foot firmly upon the pommel of the blade.
“Goodnight Jerith, bandit lord. Enjoy your place in hell,” Sol said soothingly as Jerith’s sight darkened and had faded into the abyss.
Sol turned, with the intent to examine the wagon and make sure the mystery archer was unharmed. He stumbled back suddenly from an impact, glaring down in wonder at an arrow that had lodged itself between two of his ribs on the left side. He grunted and looked up in disapproval, “That, I think, was rather uncalled for.”
His gaze fell upon a woman standing before the wagon, another arrow already notched and the bowstring taught. He immediately recognized her as an elf by her elegant, beautiful features and delicately pointed ears. Her flawless skin seemed to glow, as if warmed constantly by an inner sun. Her figure was curvaceous, any real man’s desire, perfect in every manner. Dark brown hair was pulled into a long pony tail, her bright forest green eyes trained on Sol with unwavering determination. Her clothing was of browns and greens, in the fashion of a ranger, yet not unladylike. Her midriff was bare, revealing a tattoo of a delicate yet bold cherry blossom branch that grew up from her waist and disappeared under her top. She carried an air of confidence, but also an air of command. All in all, Sol took her for one not to be underestimated, or trifled with.He frowned and gripped the shaft of the arrow to turn it slowly, then pushed on the shaft. This caused the arrow head to burst from his skin on the other side and he reached back, snapping off the tip and pulling the shaft back out easily. Still frowning in apparent dislike for the current situation, he lifted his thumb to his mouth and licked the blood from his skin, never allowing his eyes to leave the woman. She watched him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion on her face, keeping the arrow ready.
“What…are you?” she asked incredulously. Her voice was like the caress of a cool breeze on a warm day at the shore. The soft, soothing melodies of her vocals threw Sol off for a moment, and for the first time in his life he stumbled on his words.
“I’m…well…erm, I’m - “
“An illiterate?” she cut across him sharply, startling him again. From what he had heard, elves were creatures of manners and polite conversation, this woman was making him think differently. As she initiated a revelation in Sol’s mind regarding the shattering of common stereotypes, he found himself able to focus enough to offer a retort.
“Far from it, elf. Nor am I someone to shoot unless you intend to kill…or did you simply miss?” he shot back.
“Hold your tongue mortal, lest I rid you of the blasted thing,” she growled back, the string of her bow groaning as she pulled back further upon it. Sol grunted and leaned down, taking up the crimson stained blade he had used to slay Jerith he swung it and held it out, pointing the tip at her.
“I’d rather we didn’t resort to any further violence…especially after I just spent a great deal of energy to save you,” he said, a note of exasperation in his voice.
“Calm your ego, foolish boy. My victory was soon at hand, had you not intervened I would have easily shot the bandit lord and caused them to disperse,” she said in a condescending tone. Sol arched a brow and then narrowed his eyes and scowled. This woman had quite the lofty attitude, and it got on his nerves.
“Listen lady, just because you’re an elf doesn’t mean you’re superior,” he growled, swinging the blade accusingly, splattering blood on the ground.
“Enough of your mouth, fool,” she spat, fingers moving to release the arrow. That very instant a blade cut the air, Sol’s movements surpassing that even of the elves’ as his bloodied weapon cleaved her arrow out of the air before he was struck a second time. He quickly swung the blade into an attack position and charged her, battle in his eyes, she was taken aback and fumbled for another arrow but it was nearly too late. He roared a battle cry as he tightened his grip on the handle and made to swing, his eyes on his target, and then…green. Sol’s feet left the comfort of solid earth as he fell forwards, to catch himself he threw out his hands and lost his sword in the process. He growled and looked back to try and see what had tripped him, and it growled back at him.
There with his boot clamped firmly in it’s jaws was a rather large wolf, though plainly not any normal canine. It’s thick fur was of golds, reds and white, the irises of it’s eyes a gleaming orange amidst a sea of blackness that were it’s scaleras. It stood strong, muscle tense under the fur, it’s eyes locked on him. It was larger than any normal wolf, standing three and a half feet at the shoulder and about seven feet from the tip of it’s snout to the end of it’s tail. The size and coloration of the beast made Sol wonder exactly how it had remained unseen for so long, especially against the backdrop of earthy colors. Sol growled and pulled on his leg, but the wolf held firm, it’s claws digging into the earth to prevent him from pulling away as he felt the tip of an arrow touch the back of his head. He froze and scowled, he and the wolf glaring death at one another.
“Thank you Ruamus, I was not expecting such surprising skill from a fool,” he heard the woman say from behind him, apparently speaking to the wolf.
~Think nothing of it Lady Eleniel,~ came a disembodied voice. Sol stared at the canine in apparent surprise, not only was it much larger than it’s kin, there was much more to this creature than he could have imagined.