Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 1

Winter, 0 BCE

The glow of ten thousand campfires filled the vastness of the valley with their orange hue.

Everywhere, figures moved amongst them, casting shadows that danced in every direction. Shadows that would fuel the nightmares of many, if seen: of bestial heads with wicked teeth; of tails and wings and horns. Shadows of bizarre appendages, twisted even further by the flickering flames in the night. They were the shadows of Demihumans and, in this broad valley, tens of thousands of them filled the starry skies with their raucous clamour.

A scout from the Holy Kingdom in the west might have spotted the smoke of so many fires on the horizon. They might have even made it through the nearby hills without being discovered and hunted down by the dozens of tribes whose territories lay in the way. The scout might have crept to the valley ridge to stare down in abject terror at the army of Demihumans arrayed below. With all haste, the scout would return to the Holy Kingdom to raise the alarm – to prepare for what must be an imminent invasion.

This place, however, was far from the Holy Kingdom; beyond the sight of their great wall and all of their scouts, sentries and patrols. It was nestled in the southeastern edge of the Abelion Hills, well beyond the sight of Human observers. The drums and chanting; battle cries and milling chaos were not in anticipation of war: they were the sounds of celebration. Here, on the eve of the winter solstice, a myriad of peoples from not just the hills, but from the great expanse of the Abelion Wilderness, gathered in honour of a champion – a storied hero who held the common respect and admiration of all.

Qrs, by name – or at least that’s what it sounded like to some.

In this very valley – the Dale of Defiance – Qrs had stood to face the Demon Gods and, with the help of his allies, cast them down. It was an act of legendary might: one that saved them all from the fate that befell the surrounding lands that lacked the strength to resist the Demon Gods’ rampage. What Qrs was, exactly – what race, sex or even their general appearance – was not clear. Many species in the wilderness could lead long lives, and those who held the living memory of that time, two centuries ago, each insisted that ‘he’ was one their own, and the Qrs described by the others merely one of his allies.

Not that it mattered. Over time, Qrs became a legend; an icon: a representation of what all their peoples valued most. A paragon of strength who rose in the darkest of times, bringing the braves of the myriad of tribes together to prevail over the direst of foes. It was the strength of a pristine land and its peoples who continued to prevail today, against any and all attempts to subdue and tame their home.

Through the tents and pavilions near the centre of the celebration, a broad-shouldered figure made his way through the mixed throng. His name, too, was Qrs: after the same champion of centuries past. He did not shy away from being addressed as such, even in this celebration meant to honour his namesake. It was a good name; a strong name: only allowed by those with the strength to stand as champions themselves.

Qrs took a deep breath through his short snout, testing the air filled with the odours of food and drink and the countless scents from all of the different races nearby. A current of air brought with it a sharp, familiar one, and he turned to face its source.

“YOU!” A rolling voice thundered towards him, “I figured you’d be roasting on a spit somewhere by now!”

Before him stood a massive form standing on four legs. Four arms came out from its shoulders, and a ridged head with jaws that looked like they could crush rocks stared down at him intensely. It – the being’s species had four sexes, and whatever it was had no discernible meaning to Qrs’ people – towered head and shoulders above him, a good three metres tall.

Its feet pounded over the ground as it closed the gap between them, and Qrs had to crane his neck to look it in the eye.

“Shouldn’t your hide already be a trophy in someone’s yurt?” He replied.

The towering being glared down at him, but its expression didn’t last long. It let out a hearty guffaw, and its thick, reptilian tail lashed over the ground. Though relaxed, Qrs still eyed his opposite number with an underlying sense of wariness.

“By the looks of it, there’s quite the batch of challengers this year,” Qrs said. “That, or you’ve gotten involved in some insane drunken orgy again.”

“Hey now, that’s proper courtship,” it replied, “and no one invited you to watch. But the way you said it…don’t tell me you’re backing out this year.”

“Of course not,” he grunted. “I’ll at least hold my standing, or some of our feisty neighbours might think it’s a good time to push us out.”

“I think I might just take that personally.”

“Then I think I might just have to put you in your place again.”

Their exchange could possibly be taken as friendly banter but, in truth, they were less friends and more rivals: neighbours who competed for territory and resources. The tribes of the wilderness were rarely friendly with one another, and even those gathered at this celebration would infrequently skirmish between themselves outside of it.

Below its broad torso, a rugged reptilian body stretched nearly five metres from waist to tail. At least a dozen of the scars marking its body were from Qrs: accumulated over time from their occasional confrontations. There was a new wound on that body, a long trail of chipped and broken bone fragments running over the plated ridges of its armoured back.

“You keeping that one?” Qrs gestured to the wound.

“Sure am,” it said proudly. “It’s gonna turn out great.”

Not sharing the same aesthetic sense, Qrs could only make a broad judgement. Evidence of taking wounds in battle was commonly considered proof that one had overcome strong opponents or survived deadly battles. Scars, knots of healed bone and all manner of other trophies marked upon one’s person went into displaying one’s worth as a warrior, leader or mate. This was especially pronounced in races that had superior regenerative qualities – they could get away with some utterly absurd injuries.

Qrs did have his own share of them, but his own kind preferred trophies taken from defeated adversaries. A great number of these adorned his body, accessories of carved bone, braids of hair, and feathers dangling from his armour of layered hides. Most who came to challenge him would turn away at the sight, knowing he was far beyond their right to do so. Qrs might have responded to the idea that he wasn’t participating in the festivities with disinterest, but the truth was that only the strongest could survive him, so true challenges here were rare.

The sound of a crowd in the distance rose and fell. With so many races and tribes represented here, the celebration was also a stage to prove one’s strength. Though the tribes of the wilderness didn’t really get along, they weren’t stupid, either – well, most of them weren’t. Bouts between representatives here would result in cleaner territorial disputes and, though injury and death still occurred, it was generally far preferable to expending a tribe’s strength in a full-on border war and presenting weakness to all of its other neighbours as a result.

“Maybe I should push out those guys to the west,” Qrs muttered. “We could use more space.”

“Ahaha, you’re joking, right? That’d put you right on top of the Baafolk.”

Qrs grimaced at the mention.

“You’re right,” he said, “that Buser’s a pest. He always seems more interested in watching your reaction when he wrecks your stuff than actually winning.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about that…speaking of which, I heard some Dark Dwarves came in earlier today – you gonna see what they’re offering?”

“If I got nothing better to do,” Qrs replied. “My weapon’s still good, and they’ll always get plenty of slaves from the others. We don’t have any prisoners this year either.”

“Well I do,” it snorted, “we had more than a few louts sticking their necks into our territory this year, so gotta unload ‘em while I can. There’s a bunch of tools that need replacing, too.”

The four-legged being paced away, steps thumping into the night.

Qrs grunted upon parting and continued through the clusters of camps on his way deeper into the valley. He did not intend to stay for the whole of the festivities: only long enough to demonstrate that his own tribe was not worth challenging for their territory. After that would be the long journey home.

He pondered what he should pursue to obtain what was needed for his tribe. Their numbers had grown, enough that water was becoming scarce. The forest to their west contained several lakes, which was why he thought to push out the neighbours. As mentioned, however, that would put the Baafolk tribes right next to them.

Though most races in the wilderness probably did not match an outsider’s perception of what a ‘Demihuman’ was, the Baafolk were every bit the image of savagery and violence that the word might invoke for ‘civilized’ peoples. They raided for food, slaves and valuables – or just for fun – being a general nuisance to all of their neighbours. Having the Baafolk as neighbours actually served as a form of deterrence against one’s own neighbours, as no one wanted the Baafolk as neighbours themselves.

There were a few dozen races with the same, annoying behaviours, occupying pockets of territory throughout the wilderness. Driving them off of their land was the only way to stop their ceaseless predations, and doing so was easier said than done. Tribes that primarily relied on raiding did not participate in more prudent contests of strength like the ones currently being held, as they had no interest in any sort of hierarchy but their own.

Though their constant tendency towards violence kept their numbers down, they traded their aggressively won gains to the Dark Dwarves: purchasing fine weapons, armour and magical accessories from them. This was how the tenuous balance between the peoples of the wilderness was kept for as long as anyone could remember, and it was impossible to oust the Dark Dwarves. They supposedly lived in some impenetrable fortress city somewhere, its location unknown to anyone but themselves.

Sometimes, Qrs wished that some spectacularly powerful being would come along and conveniently get rid of all of these troublesome races, but that would probably mean everyone else would be in trouble as well.

He thought of his namesake and wondered if it would have been possible for him to drive off something like the Demon Gods after the more belligerent tribes in the area had been removed. Their other neighbours had braves and champions as well but did not control much water, so there was no point in taking their land. Qrs had already expanded his tribe’s control over a great deal of territory, and the lands to their west should be next. Maybe they would just have to deal with the Baafolk being their neighbours. That, or send out migrants when they exceeded what their lands could support.

The more he thought about it, the more attractive a westward expansion seemed. If he managed to get rid of Buser, the rest of the Baafolk could be removed at their leisure. Actually, if he killed Buser, all of the nations bordering the Baafolk would probably use the chance to rid themselves of their pesky neighbour once and for all. There would be plenty of room to expand.

Killing Buser was a big if, however: Qrs thought of him as a pest, but the Baafolk Lord was shrewd in addition to being strong. Or maybe he was just a craven individual that just happened to be strong. He boldly led his people, but was also quick to escape possible danger; fighting in a way that sought to measure his opponents before deciding if he could overwhelm them with his favoured attacks.

Qrs reconsidered visiting the Dark Dwarves: his own weapon – a long, iron war club – was not likely to survive Buser’s notorious sundering attacks. He would have to purchase something stronger that would hold up in combat with the Baafolk Lord. An Adamantite rod with some powerful enchantments would be ideal, though he wasn’t sure what such a weapon would cost him. Even a dagger made of the rare metal cost four dozen good slaves. He stopped, deciding he should turn around and check on what the Dark Dwarves had to offer. Maybe there was some bartering that could be done.

As he turned, however, a flash of light blinded him and the earth heaved, knocking him to the ground. There was a wave of blistering heat, and a roar filled the air. He spit out the dirt filling his mouth, trying to blink away the spots dancing across his vision. The sounds of hundreds nearby grew to fill the air – moans of pain, shouts of panic, families calling out to one another in a growing crescendo amidst the ringing in his ears.

Qrs staggered to his feet. His vision was mostly returned, and he shook his head in an attempt to regain his bearings. All around him, the landscape was changed: the tents and other shelters erected nearby were flattened, and dozens of people stood amidst thousands of their fellows who had not survived. In the direction of the blast, fires roared, consuming bodies and belongings alike.

Stumbling forward, he made his way to the area where his tent once stood, stepping over the burnt and broken bodies strewn across his vision.

“Boy!”

He called out for his son as he thought he came nearer to the site of their camp.

“Boy!”

He sifted through the chaotic mess, searching for some sign. The boy wasn’t weak; he should have survived. It was his first time attending, but Qrs only allowed him to come along because he was now strong enough to make a name for himself.

“Boy!” Qrs’ voice boomed out.

“Over here,” his son replied with a cough.

Some distance away, a figure was sitting up from a pile of wreckage. Qrs made his way over. His son stood, brushing off his hide armour. Qrs checked him over and nodded.

“Good,” he grunted. “Good. Anything broken in there?”

The boy worked his arms and legs, checking his range of motion before shaking his head.

“What the hell was that?” His son asked, “You never told me that something like this would happen.”

“I don’t know,” Qrs continued scanning their surroundings. “That’s definitely not a part of the party. Did you see anything at all?”

He shook his head in reply. Qrs looked in the direction of where the blast had seemingly come from.

“Try and see if you can get some stuff together for the trip home,” Qrs told him. “Food. Supplies. Tools. I’m going down there to see what I can find out.”

He left his son behind, following the devastation back to its source. Many others were approaching as well in every direction, and he recognized most of them as the strongest of their respective tribes, most likely coming for a similar reason: what had done this was clearly a threat to all.

Qrs reached the lip of a crater that wasn’t there before. Within, everything had been seared away, and a single figure hovered overhead. He couldn’t tell what it was.

A voice from nearby sounded out.

“You!” A Hobgoblin shouted up at the figure, “What did you see? What did this?”

The figure overhead turned to look in their direction and descended towards them. Attired in cloth of red with orange stripes, it was probably about as tall as Qrs – perhaps a bit shorter. It showed its teeth as it drew near, and its spiked tail wove idly in its wake.

“I saw that you were fully enjoying yourselves,” it said in a voice that Qrs thought should be male. “I’m not one so crass as to shout, so I settled on an option that I felt would gain everyone’s attention.”

Qrs looked down at the scorched and blasted crater; around at the devastation beyond. He had done this simply to declare himself?

“What do you want!” Someone else shouted up at him.

“What I want is of no great importance,” he replied. “However, hmm…yes, would you like to join me in my work?”

“Your work? What work? You’re not making any sense.”

“Oh, pardon me,” the figure in red said. “I suppose I’ll have to speak in terms that you’ll understand. I’d like to offer you the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become my slaves.”

The response was immediate. A roar filled the air and, as one, the ring of braves and champions converged on the figure in the crater.

『On your knees.』

Qrs felt the heat of the blasted stones under him. The skin of his knees sizzled, and he gritted his teeth in discomfort. As much as he willed it, his body would not listen. The advancing lines knelt in place as the intruder’s voice washed over them. Still, a few individuals continued their charge.

“Hmm…seven, nine, twelve…” the intruder said. “Well, I suppose some of you don’t even have knees. I should really be more inclusive with my wording: there is such diversity here.”

The first to reach him was an avian Beastman, streaking through the air like a giant dart. It came from behind, and Qrs tensed in anticipation, envisioning it lancing through the intruder’s chest. A split second before impact, however, the spiked tail swatted it out of the air as if it was no more than a sparrow. The explosion of feathers drifted down through the air long after its body slammed into the ground.

The remaining Demihumans paid no heed to the fallen avian but, when they arrived at the intruder’s location, he was too high to reach. They howled their challenges, throwing whatever they could find on hand up at their target. The stones, weapons and various bits of debris appeared to do nothing but bounce off, raining back down on those below. Someone threw a Spriggan, who screeched its battle cry as it flew up at him, but the intruder simply floated aside. The Spriggan clawed towards him in futility as it passed before continuing up and over into the distance.

“I’ll admit that I thought you all beneath me,” the intruder cast his gaze down at them, “but now that you’re there, I find it rather distasteful.”

The intruder cast his gaze over at the kneeling Demihumans lining the edge of the crater. His voice washed over them.

『All of you: get up and kill the ones beneath me.』

Qrs involuntarily rose to his feet. He took one step, then another, and soon he was charging down into the crater alongside dozens of the others who were no longer fully in control of their bodies. The champions ahead turned their attention away from the out-of-reach invader to face the oncoming onslaught. A corner of his mind mused over the fact that they could finally see how strong the greatest warriors of the wilderness were, and he got his answer when the first wave of attackers reached them.

Or almost reached them. Their targets struck first, moving almost too quickly for Qrs to register. Of the dozen in the first group that came, only two remained standing. They were both dispatched a split-second later.

Strong!

Qrs could not help but admire just how far above these champions stood over the others. Admiration gave way to anticipation as he fast approached.

“「Invulnerable Fortress」!”

Uncertain that he could react in time to any attack made by the opponent ahead of him, Qrs preemptively used a defensive Martial Art.

His caution paid off – a claw lashed out at him but was caught by his enhanced parry. Three others leapt upon his opponent, and the melee rapidly devolved into a chaotic brawl. With more and more joining the fray, the champions were eventually overwhelmed. The cost of victory, however, told of just how strong they were. Around each was piled dozens of corpses – each of those a being who could themselves slay thousands of their lessers.

“Much better,” the intruder’s voice flowed down smoothly from above. “Those who cannot heed simple instructions cannot do, after all…”

A wet crunch filled the air as Qrs brought his rod down on the head of the Beastman beside him. The lull in the violence after the champions fell ended as they turned on everyone standing beneath the intruder.

“Oh my – your enthusiasm is to be lauded, but I’d still like some living specimens to work with.”

『Sit.』

As one, those that remained sat down. The invader smiled and nodded.

“Now, where was I…ah, yes, a rousing recruitment offer. For those who lie dying in their imprudent defiance, worry not! I will not hold it against your people. The opportunity to serve in our supremely worthy cause will be extended to all: regardless of their ability, occupation or station.”

“You dare…” Qrs said from where was forced down on his haunches.

“Hm?”

“You dare?” Qrs shouted, “In this sacred place! We are not all that there is. The people of the land will rise up against you, Demon God!”

“Far be it from me to do something so sacrilegious as to claim godhood…Emperor, if you please. Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth.”

Qrs blinked at the sudden introduction but, in his fury, his tongue did not hold itself for long.

“The wilderness will rise against you, Jaldabaoth! You will be cast back to the hell you came from, just like before! We…”

Qrs’ words trailed off when he realized that Jaldabaoth was no longer paying him any heed. The Demon Emperor was instead looking towards the edge of the crater, and Qrs turned his head to see what had drawn the fiend’s attention. To his horror, what he saw was his son, looking down at the carnage below with an uncomprehending expression painted on his face.

What is he doing here? I told him to get ready to leave!

Jaldabaoth floated past him. Qrs willed himself to get up; to move, but he remained seated amidst the slain. He twisted in place, shouting desperately at Jaldabaoth’s back.

“WAIT!”

Jaldabaoth stopped and looked over his shoulder with a broad smile.

“Ah, what would this world be,” he said lightly, “without family?”

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