6 Lumber

A man woke up from a dream with damp eyes, a dream that felt too real. A dream that felt like a nightmare coming to reality. A dream that has already come to his life.

„What the hell?" He muttered with a hoarse voice.

He stood up with the surrounding of his home in the woods, a pot with flowers covered the window, carved figurines of creatures over his closet, paintings of landscapes across the walls.

He watered the flowers, rearranged a painting that was tilted, then looked at a mirror. He scratched his short thicked beard, thinking about tidying it up later, along with his hair that went just below his eyes. He put on clothes, a jacket with red and black lines, trousers that had shoulder straps, then he put on leather boots.

He went and got himself some breakfast. Pictures of the people he loved hung over a fireplace, he lit it up with the wood he newly cut down. The fire sparked and the smoke billowed up the chimney.

After eating, he brews the coffee he always has every day. An ax was next to a door, he grabbed it while having the coffee in the other hand. He went outside and got to work.

The cold wind hit him and gave him the shivers. Tree stumps were around him, newly cut logs were placed behind his cottage. He brushed away leaves that were on his stairs with his feet.

He placed his drink on a nearby stump, then placed a small log on a different one. His ax rose and was brought down, the log was split in two. He continued, until after cutting 20 or more logs with ease he stopped. He walked towards his coffee and sat down, his ax beneath his feet.

He drank the brew and glanced up at the trees. He always could hear birds sing while he was out working, but not on this day. He could only hear the wind that passed close to his ear. It was an odd day, not hearing the lovely lullaby of birds was not normal. He could always hear them when he was outside.

He stopped drinking and placed it by his side. He knew why there were no birds singing, and he was staring at it in the eyes. Reptilian eyes.

Larger than man, it stood tall, its skin of scales were dark green with tints of black and red. Its tail brushed the ground of leaves and grass. Claws hidden by gauntlets that shone gold. And the face of an extinct race with eyes of hatred stood before him.

Not only was there a reptile there, a beast bigger than a horse was behind him. Also a creature of reptilian nature. It seemed tough enough to break the mans armor that he has inside his house.

The man sighed and took up his ax, but did not stand up.

„My days of fighting is over, find someone else to bother," the man said.

„You stand before Michukha, son of cold-bloods. Name yourself," the reptilian growled.

The man noticed that the reptile held a collar around his hand, it glowed with magic.

„Isn't that one of those slave collars?"

The reptile did not respond, he only waited.

„I won't tell you my name, people usually just call me the lumberjack, you can call me that as well if you want."

It hissed in thought. Placing the collar on his belt.

„Why do you not react with fear?"

„Isn't it obvious? I am not afraid, I was once a high ranking adventurer. I stopped being one though and became who you see now."

The lumberjack's ax was on his legs, still not standing up from the tree stump. The reptile glared at him.

„Stand up and get your armor and weapon, let me test you."

Confusion arose in the lumberjack, but then quickly understood why after glancing back at the collar.

„The reptile wants to know if I am going to be a strong slave for him," the lumberjack thought. „Too bad he chose the wrong person."

He stood from the stump, grabbed the coffee, and drank it until only half remained. His ax at his shoulder, he started walking back to his cottage.

„Fine, I'll show you the strength of a high ranking human adventurer. You will likely be disappointed after the fight though."

Now the reptile looked puzzled by his words, but that didn't stop him from testing the lumberjack.

The lumberjack set aside his ax and coffee, then opened up a chest that hasn't been opened for months.

He fully kitted himself with his heavy armor of gold, dwarven made, along with a longsword. He grabbed a helmet and looked at it for a while. He mourned his late father that once owned it, then put it on.

Ge grabbed the half-empty coffee and placed it over the fireplace, just beneath the picture of his wife. She held a baby in her arms, the sun was rising in the horizon above an ocean behind the woman. It was the greatest picture he had of her.

„You always loved this coffee, may you drink it with joy where ever you are now."

He shut the door behind him as he left his home and walked down the staircase, facing the reptile with bravery.

„I'm just a lumberjack, you know? There will be no worth having me as your pet, cold-blood. And talking about pets, don't let your other reptilian friend there interfere with our fight."

The reptile grinned. He glanced at his gauntlets, and the lumberjack could faintly hear him whisper into them.

„My ancestor has spoken, fight me human, and show me your strength!" He shouted.

The reptile charged after digging into the dirt, his sharp gauntlets raised.

The human sidestepped, dodging the attack. His heavy longsword was swung with a wide arc, giving all the power he had with his muscles. The reptile diverted the attack with his hands, almost slicing of his snout. Continuing to swing his weapon, he attacked lower this time, aiming at its stomach. The reptile's feet dug down with its claws and grabbed the longsword's blade.

The lumberjack, not fearing him, tried kicking the reptile. It dodged his feet rather easily. His golden armor was slowing him down after all.

„Is that all you got, human."

„So you are not going to call me the lumberjack, I assume? I still have something that I haven't shown, you are just too weak for me to pull it out," the lumberjack taunted.

The reptile growled and pulled out his twin daggers. And he waited for the human to come at him.

„He wants me to step forward? Fine, all I need is one step anyways."

He raised his golden boot, his sword behind his back which was ready for a swing. Then he stepped down with his boot and it shook the earth, bits of dirt and grass shot up where he landed, and he brought his sword down. the ground lit up in a line towards the reptile, then it split open widely, spiked stone pillars rose, and scraped the scales of the reptile. Then the pillars went below only a few seconds later, dirt covered the small ravine.

„Damn, if you didn't dodge that then I would have made your reptilian race extinct."

Grass moved when the reptile ran by, his bloodshot eyes were shone, and the lumberjack could see it.

He swung low with his sword but missed yet again as the reptile jumped over it. The twin daggers pierced the lumberjack's right shoulder and back. He groaned, letting not a single scream be heard. Blood poured down on his armor.

The lumberjack laughed while gritting his teeth. As the reptile stepped back, the golden armor started to glow. The two pierced marks on the shoulder and on his back started to mend back together, the red liquid also faded away, the armor seemed to be brand new like it was just made from the market.

„As you can see I have armor that has magic inside. My wounds have already been healed, along with the armor itself."

The reptile stopped, his collar on his belt started to glow yet again. And the reptile took hold of it with one hand as he sheathed both his blades.

„He has chosen you, become the slave of my kin, and become my tool," he hissed.

„I prefer chopping wood than fighting alongside you. So no, I won't become a slave."

A loud growl came from the reptile, then footsteps came behind the lumberjack. He turned, only too be thrown to the ground by the reptilian's pet. It laid there on top of the lumberjack, his long-sword was far from his reach. Only one of his arms was usable, while the other was beneath the beast.

„What happened with a fair fight!" He shouted in anger.

„I never told anything about a fair fight."

The collar opened up. The lumberjack struggled to get free, he knew that the beast on him was to heavy for his strength.

„I get it, you don't want to lose just because you are the last?"

The reptile stopped moving. Glaring down at the human beneath.

„You are afraid! Your ruthless race will never rise again!"

The reptile... no, the cold-blood growled.

„Your race were just monsters! Thralls to demons that every race fought against! Though I wasn't alive when your people died, I know from books and stories from the mouth of elders that you are just bloodthirsty killers! Nothing but another monster that adventurers hunt for gold!"

Saliva dripped from the cold-bloods bare teeth. His eyes were red as his blood. Aldao and Vulkin are trying their best to stop him.

„Just by actually seeing one of you reptiles with my own eyes shows that the stories were true! Your scales were only made for war, nothing else! You, the last of your kind will never find the rest of your so-called kin!"

The collar was closed and dropped to the ground, he forced down upon him with his gauntlets, but the will of Ardao stopped him. His anger only rose more as the human talked, and as his kin halted his attack.

„Cold-blood of young! Calm your hatred! We need him, his strength will benefit us!" Ardao spoke through the gauntlets.

„Your kind should have never attacked, your species would have survived if your kind stopped their thirst for war! But alas, they did nonetheless, dooming themself to the greater beyond!"

The cold-blood took off his gauntlets, dropping them to the ground, his soul connection to Ardao was gone, his words couldn't reach him. Vulkin and his other ancestors tried telling him to stop as well, but without their weapons or item being held by the cold-blood, they couldn't forcefully stop him. His claws that he hasn't pierced with for so long were sharp and ready. And he plunged it towards the lumberjack.

The lumberjack's mind slowed, and his last thoughts were starting to show.

„Goodbye my friends," he thought and memories of an elven man, a dwarf, and a feline girl emerged. Memories of them travel across the lands, completing quest after the other, fighting a danger that almost destroyed a town. „Farewell you bastards, live longer than this fool."

A sudden vivid image of his father, holding by his bleeding shoulder as he took the last breath. He was only a young boy when the fire in his hometown burned the buildings, ruthless monsters slaughtering the people. And he took the sword of his dying father, calling out to its power to defeat the threat. Burying the father he loved and was always around.

„I'll be joining you all, I would have died after a few months anyway. The sooner the quicker we meet again."

With his damp eyes, he remembered his wife and child, coming home after his final adventure to his nightmares. The woman he loved, stripped down and murdered, the small boy he could call as his son, cut down with a sword he owned by his side.

„No," he muttered. „NO!" he yelled.

With his armor's awakened strength, he gripped the arm of the cold-blood, twisting it until bone cracked.

The cold-blood made a blood-curling howl. His eyes filled with extreme hatred and anger. Then he suddenly felt for his ancestors' souls rage also pour out. Their opinion on slaving the human has changed. Even Vulkin who found the man he wanted enslaved seethed.

„Kill him! Butcher him! Tear him apart for hurting the last of our kin!"

They roared through him, but he couldn't hear the words of the great leader, Ardou. His words stayed silent as the gauntlets still lay on the grass.

The lumberjack struggled but managed to lift the beast and threw it away. He rose from the ground, still strong, still alive.

„I'm am not going to die yet! I still have some strength left in me!"

The cold-blood, with one good arm, threw his spears at the lumberjack. He managed to dodge two of them but was hit by the third in his chest.

He grunted and took the spear out of him, he held it with his arms, using the weapon of the cold-blood.

Then the cold-blood's ax rose, he charged with anger, wishing for the death of the human. And as the lumberjack was about to dodge, the spear he held glowed and electricity started to rise from within. The lumberjack couldn't move as thunder and lighting flowed through him. He yelled, screamed, and cursed the weapon of the cold-blood.

The ax was brought down, and the armor of the lumberjack broke. Blood poured, and he continued his ravenous onslaught, piece after piece the armor fell. The repair progress was to slow, and it stopped working after taking so much damage.

The spear was dropped, and the man himself fell. He clutched his wounds, looking at the sky with gritted teeth. Damp eyes, memories, so many bad memories. He will finally be free from the past that haunted him.

„Cold... blood," the man said, coughing up blood.

Reptilian eyes stared at the human, no remorse was shone, only rage.

„I'm... sorry. For what happened with your kind."

Confusion arose in the cold-blood.

„Why was this human saying his forgiveness?" He thought.

„Only if the people who fought against you let some survive. And maybe they would have made a new land of cold-bloods. Land of good and no anger towards everything. But alas, I wasn't there in the past, I didn't know your real kin."

The cold-blood bared his teeth.

„There are no good cold-bloods."

The lumberjack looked up at the eyes.

„You don't know, do you?" somber rose within the lumberjack. „Send me off, cold-blood. Let me be with my family I have waited to see for so long."

„Gladly," said the cold-blood, his ax rising high.

A glimmer of a smile showed in the lumberjack right at the end. And he could see them, his child and wife. He walked up to them through the field of flowers. He picked up his young boy and held his wife's hand. They walked towards the sunset, they walked to the land of peace, no grim future awaited them, only joy.

The cold-blood rose, his ax dripped blood. His right arm broken. He managed to put on one of the gauntlets on his good arm, then Ardao spoke when his voice could finally be heard.

„I'm disappointed in you, Michukha. I could hurt you right now, but that I shall not do due to our circumstances. But..."

Then the cold-blood winced. He fell on one knee as Ardao broke him. His own soul was getting beaten by Ardao, giving him no rest, only pain. The cold-blood felt like it was for eternity. He held his head with one arm, growled in pain, wanting it to stop, hoping it would stop.

„But I can hurt your very soul, which isn't life-threatening! You lost a good slave, a slave that would have helped us! Fought for us!"

„Forgive me, great Ardao! I will try to contain my hatred towards the lesser beings!"

The pain flowed away, he caught his breath, inhaling the sweet air.

„I will never kill you, cold-blood of young. Resent for what you have done. Vulkin will find the next slave, and if you kill that one, the pain will only get worse!"

Ardao's voice faded, and the cold-blood hissed, his anger shrinking only by a small amount.

Bastri walked over towards the cold-blood. Michukha grabbed the urn off of him and placed it near the fallen lumberjack. He dripped the blood from the man and called upon his magic ritual, gathering the soul of the man who broke his arm. It was almost as if the cold-blood could hear the man's cry from his soul, cursing the cold-blood for not getting peace. But Michukha didn't care, he damaged part of his body, a part that will heal in only a few days.

The urn waited for more, thirsting for more souls, but there were no more bodies around. The magic from the urn faded, and Michukha knew that his soul was too weak. But the question was. . . Why?

Then he felt for a new scent coming from the lumberjack, it was coming from his belly that he ripped open when tearing apart his armor. The scent of the unhealable tumor. Cancer. And by the smell, he had only one to two months left to live.

The cold-blood went silent. His ancestors went silent. Not a single sound was heard around him. Vulkin was shocked, bewildered. Then the other ancestors berated the slaver, saying that he found a man that was as useless as a goblin. A man that would have died after a few weeks is not a slave they wanted. Even Ardou, the great leader, forgave the cold-blood after his attack against his soul. Then thanked him for not using the collar on the terminally ill human.

The cold-blood stood up from the ground, placing back the urn on Bastri, and kept on wandering through the world. His ancestors made him find a man that was already dead, it was a waste of time. He cursed his ancestors, knowing that they could hear his words.