This is a Chain story passed between @zakludick and @tanglebranch. Each writer authors a post based on the events of previous episodes and carries on the story.

There is very little collusion between the writers as it is challenging to discover and develop a story by attuning the writing to the partner's plot, style, and presentation.

Last time on Legend of the World Roots

Part 2 of the Legend of the World Roots by @tanglebranch

The crafty Bullseye Monroe came to the Mage Katsugu's aid and they were joined by the monstrous ogre Glazog.

Here is an excerpt from the last episode:

“Yeah, yeah. I have it.” Glazog Ironstrike liberated a leather pouch from his belt and tossed it in Katsugu’s direction.

Monroe snagged it in the air and opened the drawstring. “Lookie there, Katsy. Just like the old woman said.” Inside was a crystal, glowing softly green, pulsing like an ancient heartbeat. It was remarkably smooth, polished into a teardrop shape.

Katsugu whistled softly. “This changes everything.” He glanced back at the temple again, where new howls and roars of rage were just beginning to be heard. “Let’s get back to our campsite. I’ve had my fill of Troghs, and running from them, for a very long time.”

Part 3

Monroe started towards the bridge, handing Katsugu the leather pouch. “Here, take it before I lose it.”

“You’re just worried that it's cursed.” Katsugu smiled as he tied the leather bag on a string that hung from his belt. He then dipped his fingers into his mana pouch, not wishing to be caught off guard again.

“I want nothing to do with all that… arcane stuff…” Monroe shivered, then busied himself with the action of reloading Patience and Tact. “You know how it crawls up my spine, partner.”

“Dracos, interna fernus.” Katsugu pronounced the words within his gut, as deep as he could. Katsugu smiled, as pleased with the way Monroe flinched at the words as the brighter glow that sprung up from the mage’s dust-covered hand. This would last much longer.

“Go across the bridge before me.” Glazog growled. “It cannot handle us all.”

“Especially not you.” Monroe grumbled softly.

Katsugu saw one long pointed green ear twitched at the remark and the Ogre casually flicked his club at the ground. Where it struck, stones from the village’s pathway scattered upwards. One of the stones, the size of a pigeon’s egg struck the pistoleer in the back. Miraculously none of the stones had struck the mage.

“Mind your tone, human.”

Monroe whipped around, facing the Ogre and slammed the cylinders of his weapons into place. The skin on Monroe’s face turned red around his contoured goatee. “Why you…”

Katsugu hooked an arm through Monroe’s, under his armpit. “Come on you, we don’t have time for all this.” He pulled the protesting Bullseye to the edge of the bridge. “Now behave yourself. I am tired.”

Bullseye muttered something and finally turned his attention towards the bridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”

Katsugu glanced back again at Glazog, who had his back turned on his human teammates. The brute had readied his club and stood still as another horde of Trogh appeared up the pathway some hundred yards away or so.

The mage hurried across the bridge after Bullseye. He tried not to think of the chasm that opened below the creaking boards of the bridge below him. Instead, he imagined twelve intricate arcane patterns that could be used for various kinds of spells as he had been taught by the Masters.

Glazog stood, resolute.

The Troghs must have numbered over fifty. He had attempted to count them as they ran. The whole pack had begun to slow as the forerunners saw what they had to deal with. They were only partially successful as other pushed at them from behind.

The Ogre counted.

Sixty paces.

The forerunners were shouting at the others, but they could not be heard over the noise.

Fifty paces.

Glazog stretched his club swinging arm and flexed his ripped green muscles.

Forty paces.

The Ogre gripped his club tightly in one four-fingered fist.

Thirty paces.

Screams rose out of the front two rows of Troghs. It did not matter, nobody would hear them.

Twenty paces.

Glazog drew in a deep, deep breath.

Ten paces.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!” The Ogre’s bellow ripped through the Trogh ranks like lightning and the entire mass stumbled, several of their members crushed beneath the weight of the horde behind, trampled in their haste. Instead of attempting to run ahead, the Troghs tried desperately to retreat now.

Glazog lunged forward and his crystal-studded club connected with a half dozen Troghs, their tiny bodies no match for the power behind the blow. The weapon shattered through bone and ripped flesh.

There was no more charge, a fifth or more of their number were already dead or dying. Glazog spun in a circle with his club. There was no pulling the weapon back after an Ironstrike. One swung with the weapon and traced its path to a new target. The Trogh were all on the same level.

Glazog hated fighting Troghs. It felt like he was dealing with children, children that he had to kill. Though the Troghs themselves would have had no problem with killing an eating an Ogre child, to Glazog it felt wrong. There was no honor in this fight.

His second strike tore through almost a dozen more Trogh and the weapon slowed into the press of bodies. A meaty backhand laid another duo of Trogh low as they tried to raise their spears at Glazog.

The rest of the horde quickly put themselves at a distance. Dissipating like a morning fog, the Trogh horde melted away and run in every direction.

Katsugu stepped on to solid ground at last and sighed in relief.

“We’re across!” Bullseye yelled and waved behind them. “C’mon!”

The Ogre turned and lumbered his way to the bridge. The Trogh were not yet out of ideas, however, Katsugu spotted them throwing down their spears and bringing out bows instead.

“Heads up partner.” Monroe touched Katsugu on his shoulder. “They are going to pepper Glazog by the time he gets halfway across that bridge.” The bridge squealed as the Orge’s feet tramped on to the first planks.

“I’m not blind you know?” Katsugu muttered.

“Compared to me you are.” Monroe took steady aim, closing one eye. He pulled the trigger on Patience and a second later a Trogh archer fell.

Two dozen archers drew back on their bows.

“Oh crap!” Monroe’s pistols changed targets constantly, his eyes wide. “There’s too many of them, partner!”

Katsugu’s hands darted through the air in a combination of straight and curved patterns. Both hands glowed in bright radiance. An incantation sang through the air.

“Heed the watcher now,
guarding three points of the star,
upon the mist spread.”

Magic spread forth in a wave and Monroe leaped aside.

“Lightshield Guardian!”

Part 3 completed!
Now the keyboard is passed on to @tanglebranch to add in Part 4 of the story!