Cursed Two-fold
A lone warrior stalks through a forest of trees much taller than giants. A low hanging mist obscures the canopy, creating an illusion that the surrounding trees lacked a tangible end to their upward growth. Each footstep forward was placed with the practiced precision of an experienced hunter, marred only by the sheer number of seasons under his belt. The color of his beard likely granted him enough sensibility to know not to linger in these woods. Nearing his target, the warrior raised his bow and knocked an arrow.
But as he slowly adjusted his aim for the herd of deer, a creeping sensation pried his attention away from his prey. Sensing that something dangerous had set their sights on him, he froze. An ominous sensation that he had felt once before washed over him. A feeling deeply ingrained in his memory. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the spirits began to call out to him. Alarm bells ringing inside his head, the warrior hastily dropped his bow and lowered himself down into the underbrush. Slowly, he reached for the pair of axes fashioned at his hip. But, his desperate scramble came to a sudden halt as he found a pair of eyes looking back at him. Two skulls with one eye each cast a haunting gaze onto their newly found prey, launching darkness and light swirling through the forest. Distant echoes rang out as night fell swifter than possible.
Following the growing dull roar, smoke and the stench of burning hair assaulted his senses. The environment around him shifted; forestry blurred into nothingness before being reassembled into a small village surrounded by crop fields. Memories not of his own danced throughout his view. All the while, the warrior watched on from high above it all. Unable to move or look away, he watched. Individuals young and old lived out a peaceful existence in rapid playback before slowing down and settling into a dark night illuminated by destructive flames.
The night the village burned replayed back in vivid detail. His view of the carnage slowly descended downward to focus on a pair that attempted to flee the violence. They ran from the ensuing raiders, legs failing them as the pair tumbled down into the thick mud. Quickly caught as a result, sharp steel was raised; glistening in the dim light cast by the surrounding flames, it threatened silently. But before the weapon was brought down, the pair shared a rushed look before screaming out a hoarsely screamed curse. Stabbing with their fingers at an eye each, their voices swelled and reached a low range completely unnatural. A pact of some kind was formed.
The twins of the village nestled in the fields always did everything together. It was as if the pair were born as a single soul divided into separate bodies and that shared soul now had one purpose driving its continued presence in this world. Repayment for what had been stolen that night. Until the day in which the last of the raiders were cut loose from their mortal bodies, the curse of the twins would persist. As the spirits revealed themselves, the memory faded.
Replacing the roars of violence and flame came another sound. A distinct, nearby howl snapped him back out of the torrent of memories. As his vision returned to normal and the two presences he had felt flitted away into the dark recesses of his consciousness, pain erupted from his right shoulder. A second blow across his chest followed the first as a giant now suddenly before him continued its assault against the unfortunate trespasser on its land. Unable to keep his footing, the force of this second impact threw the warrior into the hard bark of a nearby tree. There he would remain, unable to reach his weapons and unable to avoid his fate as the final casualty of the pair’s curse.
