#2kwoods

The fog is thick and heavy as a small merchant ship nears the coast of Infinia. One lonely seagull lands on the deck, lured by the stench of fish. It waddles around, looking for a tasty treat when a deadly arrow pierces straight through its neck.

“You son of a bitch, you did it!” a young sailor pulls a few coins from his pocket and tosses it to the other one before he picks up the filthy bird and throws it overboard. He pulls out a telescope, searching for the land from which this flying rat came.

The fog is thick and heavy, he can’t see shit.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to be back in Infinia, I will go to a pub and order a goulash with a ton of onion and a whole loaf of bread and a pitcher of Royal Lager the first thing after docking in the harbour! It’s been so long since I had a proper infinian meal.. at least eight months!” The sailor opens up a bottle of rum with his teeth and pours them both a shot in tin cups to celebrate. “What about you? How long has it been since your last time in Infinia?”

“Uhm -about five thousand years,” he says almost seriously after briefly counting millennia on his fingers.

His pal bursts into laughter and slaps his company’s shoulder. “Yea, it does feel like that sometimes, doesn’t it!! Crazy how time flies on the sea.. "

"Anyways," he clears his throat, clicking his cup against the other to toast, "To the safe returns!"

"To the safe, glorious returns," his older crewmate parrots and his gnarly scarred lips twist into a brief smile before he downs the drink.

-

Infinian flag dances proudly on top of the ancient lighthouse that has been torn down by the elements and rebuilt by men many times over the past five thousand years, but here it blows again, as good as new, welcoming the merchant ship as it arrives to the bay.

Cinna greets it with a smile as an old friend, he never thought he’d see it again. It feels like yesterday when he was fleeing on the board of a little fishing vessel with the lighthouse watching over his cowering back as he disappeared over the horizon.

The world has changed so much since those days. The Orc lord holds his head high this time. He faces the land that once adored him, then feared him and in the end banished him, with determination, grudge and a silent promise in his heart.

The harbour smells like rotting fish, fresh shit, and steamed garbage, Cinna scrunches his nose as soon as he jumps overboard, planks of the pier squeeking underneath his heavy boots. Nobody else seems to mind the smell though; people go around their usual business, fishermen haggle the prizes of their catch, children fight rats over the scarps of the fish, beggars cry for change, pickpockets work hard and guards work even harder.

His crewmate catches up to him and clings up to his shoulders. “Let’s have some goulash!” he guides him through the beehive of chaos and filth to his favorite tavren ‘where prostitutes welcome the sailors with open arms and legs’ as he puts it. They get the meal and proper craft beer while bards sing their songs.

The crowd loves especially the old folk music, chanting excitingly to the catchy old-timey tunes when bards sing the popular epics about ancient gods, fearless warlords, tragic battles and mythical kings. Cinna tosses a shiny to the bard to sing the one about the Fall of the Mount Hathol one more time, he laughs, claps and cheers the bard on loudly.

Even the deepest and the most painful and traumatic wounds left in the collective consciousness of the free Infinian nations can fully heal and turn into fairytales and fables to entertain peasants if enough time has passed.

And you know what they say about those who fail to remember their past... With the shadow returning to Infinia, this aphorism is as relevant as ever.

-

Without a single shadow of doubt, Cinna knows the country roads have led him exactly where he is meant to be as he overlooks the god-forgotten mountain grove eloping what looks like a former mining colony of Men. It baths in the sunlight and the golden hour makes it look prettier than it actually is. He nudges his horse with a heel and follows the steep trail down the grove.

The contract for a killer bear that has brought him this way doesn’t matter anymore, he completely loses interest in those few shinies he would have gotten from the mayor of a nearby village for bringing back the bear’s head.

Cinna gets off his horse once he reaches the lively centre, he leads the horse towards the marble structure that lays ahead and looks so out of place in this dirty boondocks. The same Men that built this pathetic settlement can’t be given credit for such a beautiful structure, that’s for sure; It’s a sign of an entirely different time and most likely also of a different people, and for that it entices Cinna and calls his name.

Of course it is a fucking temple, Cinna laughs under his breath as he secures the reins to a convenient fence post, people just love their little godlings and deities and building them opulent homes is a part of that. He quickly makes his way up the polished stairs and nods to the cleric at the entrance who gives him a nasty side eye.

He should be at awe in front of the otherworldly beauty of ancient master craftsmen’s work just like all the worshippers that came to visit the temple, however he doesn’t feel the urge to fall down on his knees in a passionate prayer, he isn’t intimidated by the high dramatic arches or the detailed frescas on the vaulted ceiling, after all, this temple too shall crumble under the weight of time like they always do.