Book I - The Silver Globe

Chapter 1 - The Moon's Plains

From the creators world, we see but a globe which is slowly shrouded by the sky and then reemerges. However it is more than what we perceive.

After the world we live in was created, the creator made a sphere of silver appear. This was to accommodate Velulaei, the Aengul of the moon and night. This sphere was of a beauty matching the one of Velulaei. The creator placed it in the sky alongside the sun so it would provide another light in the previously dark nights.

The landscape of this place was covered in a light gray glow, as if the grass were clippings of silver. The sky was dark as the darkest night in which one was able to contemplate the creator's world in all it's magnificence.  However, there was nothing else in sight, only the mountains of silver coated in the glowing grass and the occasional spirit. 

During the day of the sun, this space grows faint, as if it was but a dreamland. However it is but covered by the blinding light of the sun. Then the sun will fall again and Velulaei shall rise.

Chapter 2 - Lands of the Night

Though the silver land that we call moon seems empty, there are many inhabitants. These are the shadows of the Creator's world, the spirits of dark elves who have passed away and the Aengul herself, Velulaei. These congregate in greater numbers for the dark moon assembly, thus why the moon is shrouded every few cycles. 

Velulaei called the land of the moon the lands of night as it is an eternal night. However, the night is the remover of shadows and the unification of beings. To the contrary of the sun which burns and destroys with its light, furthermore segregating beings of the creator.

This is why the dark elves chose to worship her in the dawn of time, because they knew she was the fairest.

Chapter 3 - Up Above, Her Home

What we don't see when we look at the moon is the palace of Velulaei. Her residence in the silver valley of the great ranges. It is pictured as dome from which three towers extend into the sky. Protection, family and night. The palace of Velulaei is called 'Nighted Sphere Keep'. 

The middle chamber of the residence is a big one. It has a throne made of silver in its center which faces the singular entrance. The seat is elevated on a pedestal in the middle of the bare room. A light mist floods the lower parts of the hall. Leaving it through a great door way, one enters a circular hallway.

The hallway goes all around the main chamber and connects to the three towers of faith and some other secondary chambers. In those, one can find ancient libraries of old scrolls written in Old Elven.

The three towers are similar in design, seen from the outside. However the interior varies depending on the value they represent. Protection has a solid and uniform flow of moonlight falling through the middle of the tower. It's walls are thicker representing the defensive aspect of this important value. One can reach the top via a spiraling staircase which only stops at the source of the flow.

Family has a lighter and more watery flow of moonlight dropping from its center. Around it rise various pillars, created to represent members of a family. They are linked halfway up the tower by double arches on the second floor. One can reach only that floor by taking one of the two turning staircases.

Night has a sparkling midnight sky colored and troubled flow of moonlight falling down the center of the tower. The tower has no windows and thus the inside is dark, provided only with the glow of the magic. There are no stairs in this tower, how to get to the roof is an unrevealed secret.

Chapter 4 - Our Haven do we Demise

There is another reason the silver sphere was created. It was to accommodate the faithful spirits of the dark elves when they die. Velulaei would take the spirit of a slain priest and bring it with her back to the plains of never-ending night. The spirit would take the form of a shadowy figure.

The spirits of the past ones roam the  lands of Velulaei, gifted with immortality. They are permitted to roam through the palace of the Aengul. Many spend the majority of their existence reading the scrolls of the moon and learning the full reality of the world below. It is said that there are those which are blessed and that retain their form of the creator's world.

Up above is our haven. It is the last place to go for those lost on land. There have been some which sacrificed themselves for their shrine, to gain access to the moon's plains. Velulaei is fair and gives residence to all those shadows she pulls from the world. It has been said that in the after life a priest would have their own library chamber within the mountain ranges of the moon. Those who are blessed receive a personal room within the palace and stand beside Velulaei during the gathering of shadows.

Book II - Goddess at Night

Chapter 1 - Moonlight Reaches Everywhere

The Aengul of the moon has such power, one impossible to imagine or to even manipulate in the creator's world. She has the power to rule the sky at night. She watches everything which hides one the shadows, her dark nights allow her to see everything. It would be foolish to challenge, as foolish as challenging any Aengul.

Her powers, her moonlight, are present everywhere and at all times. Though the sun makes it harder to see, the moon hides behind the sun still shining on the world. It reaches the deepest caves, the darkest castles and the boldest shadows.

Her powers heal and protect. The dark of night hides the wound, the dark of night shrouds and stops the hostilities. It is not only monsters that arise in the dark, so does Velulaei.

Chapter 2 - Rivalry of the Day

The goddess of the moon has a dominant position in the night sky. However the sun forces her away at day as it takes her place. Velulaei is always in competition with the sun, pushing it away time and time again. We have noticed her presence behind the sun at day, but she is unfortunately not dominant.

Velulaei is not an Aengul which does wrong, she does not wish for holy battles between her followers and those of the sun. Even if we think she deserves the dominance of the sky, we follow her decision. There must be harmony. However those of the sun beg to differ, the fools. 

During the day, her powers are present. They are the ones which bring the dim light to the caves and shadows. That is why her worshippers stay in the dark shrines at day and avoid leaving at sunrise.

Chapter 3 - Her Immortality

As an Aengul, she is immortal and never aging. The laws of time are toys that she has left in the closet. She will always listen to our prayers and our requests. She shall always look over the creator's world.

She passes her immortality to those spirits that come to her residence after they die. She has the time for everything and everyone. She does not rush, she takes the time it must. She is never late, never early.

Her powers will never end, she cannot be vanquished. However this means the conquest of the sky shall also last until the end of time. Furthermore we shall pray for her until our own time comes for the ones who are unfortunate to be killed.

Book III -  Maiden of the Mali'ker

Chapter 1 - Velulaei

Our deity is the fairest of them all. Her beauty surpasses the one of any inhabitants of the creator's world. Her skin is of the color of the lightest ashes left after a soft fire. This one as soft as silk, smooth and soothing. Her body shape made of perfect curves. These outlines showed off by the silver blue upper and lower clothing she wears. Her blue eyes glow in the shine resembling a sapphire held up to the sun. Her hair is of a silvery white tone, it's length flows loosely upon her as she walks through the the world.

Her voice is said to calm even the reddest rage. It is of a soothing tone like the one of a mother. Her aura is is dim, as the light which emanates from the moon. She is adored by those who know her, as she is also filled with knowledge.

Chapter 2 - Our Creator

It is said that Velulaei gave life to the first of the dark elves. She descended upon Aegis and made love to Malin, creating our race. We descend from an the Aengul of the moon. We owe her our faith for this gift. Unfortunate that many ignore our origins.

From Velulaei, we were given her intellect. Some say that the females are more learned then the males. We lost our some agility to our robust build. In appearance, a distinct bloodline of the dark elves conserve the glowy eyes of our Goddess.

Our culture has developed have us looking fabulous to honor our ancestor. The love for our family, those bonds are there because of our possibly divine ancestors, we had to take care of our kin. The blood of the moon flows within all us dark elves, let us not forget this.

Chapter 3 - Our Protector

We are the children of the moon, thus the moon protects us. Velulaei looks over the dark elves as mother looks over her children. Her power, moonlight, is strong around us. It seems gives us an aura of protection, invisible, but present. Many of the dark elves that live today do not know of its existence.

Furthermore, she hides us in the dark of her night, making us barely visible. As many say in our race, love your mother and you'll be blessed. Those who ignore this and assault a dark elf shall perish in account of their ignorance.

Chapter 4 - Her Visits upon Us

There are various accounts of her appearance on the creator's world. On the contrary, we would not know much of what we currently do. The reason she descends upon our land is because she wants to visit her race and faithful. However she only appears in front of one person alone. It is a sign you are blessed if she is to touch you. There are three notable appearances.

A couple of generations ago, Vel'tis the Blessed was visited by the Aengul. She came to congratulate him for continuing the faith in her. His reward was the blessing and it is how he became the most respected of the priests. He is the one who gave us the looks of the Aengul. When he was executed in cold blood, Velulaei came down from the sky and pulled his soul up onto the moon. That is the only known time that Velulaei presented herself before a race other than the dark elves.

Another notable visit was when she appeared before Velendor, an Elder Priest. He was a great researcher of a large shrine. She blessed him, but also demonstrated her divine powers. She taught him how to summon her light to use when needed. He died in the cave in of the Velul'aheral (Moon's Grace) shrine, however, Velulaei still retrieved his soul.

The other important apparition was when she came to encourage Vel'warthos, the head high priest of Velulaeisul lin'ceru (Moonlight Stronghold). Before the last battle  she visited to give him power to fight off the inquisitor attack force. He was blessed the day he died for his shrine. Defending the last shrine and elder until his last breath. Velulaei was not disappointed and brought his soul up with her that night alongside the one of Vel'tis.  

*Immersed in the information, Goroth Klaren moves the first tome aside and takes hold of the next one, starting to read...*

Book I - Cult to Order

Chapter 1 - The Origins

Generations ago, the dark elves were conceived. As all races did, these ancient elves all believed in a goddess. Velulaei is the name of this goddess. She was actually an Aengul which lived on the moon. At the time of the ancient, the clergy among the dark elves were priests encouraging the worship of Velulaei. They made great altars and shrines in her name. This endured for the first generations of elves. The dark elves started lose faith as their race mixed in with the other kin. They would either start to follow the Mali-god Malin or they would become pragmatic on the subject. As the situation continued, even some lower priests of Velulaei left the faith. As the humans arrived to Aegis and expanded, there came to be less and less of those who maintained faith in the Aengul of the Moon. 

However, a distinct priest and his peers endured this exodus of sorts. This Mali'ker was Vel'tis Nightheart. He attempted to maintain the religion in place, however there were only a couple of Dark Elven houses which stayed faithful. Thus those still faithful broke from the Dark Elven society to practice their religion elsewhere.

Chapter 2 - The Birth

Led by Vel'tis, the dark Elven priests descended into the depths of the earth and built the first shrine to Velulaei. The first night they prayed, they rejoiced. The Order of the Moon was founded by the houses remaining to the faith. These being House Vel'Nightheart, House Klaren and House Thol'Daa. The founding members however, were but eight. I was the only of House Klaren to stay in the order. 

The years of the foundations were harsh. Which made the later years seem far too easy. Food was a major problem, we fed off the mushrooms in the caves, grew pumpkins in the little light we had. The order survived regardless, the faith taking us through those painful years.

The priests of the ancient religion had to adapt, we were no longer in the middle of a society. The practices changed little, the beliefs and rules were imposed to a greater extent. This was not a problem in our small group, we all knew each other very well.

Chapter 3 - The Growth

Years after the founding of the order, it started to grow. First descendants of the priests, then dark elves which were converted and from there started to appear the real order. It would no longer be a sect or cult, it had started to grow.

The first shrine was expanded to hold the priest which joined. Then came the need to make others. The second shrine was built in strong stone, under a small mountain. The tree implanted in this new place of prayer was one of those closest to the Elder tree in the first shrine.

That method of construction and spreading was re-used for the other shrines. Tunnels connected the closest to the first.

These were the years of construction and expansion.

Chapter 4 - The Elder Years

As the order grew, there was a large amount of discoveries. A whole generation of peace and quiet. The priests thrived in the depths of earth. It is said that this is the era when Vel'tas Nightheart became Vel'tas the Blessed. After that event, we became more united, the said appearance of the Aengul before our leader was symbolic.

There was a lot more inter shrine activity in this era. Traveling at night was permitted for High and Elder Priests which has learnt basic moonlight magic. Plenty of important figures came to be known of at this time. Most of these were descendants of the Vel'Nightheart House. Many made interesting discoveries and many tomes were written. They were all kept in the peripheral chambers around the main shrine. However we didn't know this wouldn't last.

Book II - Priests in Secrecy

Chapter 1 - The Praying

Our prayers were not defined by time. We could spend from all night to a single moon movement in the main shrine chamber. The order wasn't summoned to go pray, initiative was important. We would pray in two different ways to Velulaei. The prayers were not only worship but also teachings to our peers.

The repetitive pray was the simple Elven sentence of "______". Repeating this, we knew that we could someday be blessed by Velulaei or live on her land when we perish. The phrase is more so sung than recited. The children learnt this from a young age and would accompany their elders to the shrine.

However, the main prayer was a sort of research thesis. we would present our research and conclusions to Velulaei. She would listen in and reward us, was the research correct.  This is why the younger peers would stay in the shrine longer, to listen to the findings and fill their minds with knowledge.

Chapter 2 - Our Sanctuaries

An average sized sanctuary would fit underneath a large mountain. The main sanctuary was so big it extended under the whole Mountain range. However, small ones will easily fit in a rather small mountain, if not a large hill. There was always one main entrance which forked off into three to four tunnels which reached the surface. The amount of chambers in the sanctuary depended greatly on the population. However, the largest never surpassed twenty.

There was a particular layout to the sanctuary and uses to each chamber. The center one would have at least a single elder cloud tree. It is the shrine, in bigger ones, there could be a larger elder tree surrounded by growing ones. This room was usually covered in emerging roots and small ponds. The soil was always maintained to have a soft and fertile texture. A single exit was present, hidden in foliage it led to a circular corridor which orbited the shrine.

This usually led to the separate chamber where the priests slept and the library. In smaller sanctuaries, the sleeping chamber did not separate the elder from the normal priests. However where there was space, the elder would live in an anti-chamber of the library. The rooms were carpeted with black ink soaked carpet and the walls were carvings in the stone of the cave. Keeping the cave up and strong were quality pine logs. 

The library, an important part of the sanctuary was carpeted is lapis ink colored wool. The bookshelves were grooves made into the stone of the cave walls. It was usually made into various levels on which one could stand on some redwood planks. The books which this chamber contained were products of the research of the priests which had passed through that sanctuary.

Chapter 3 - The Practice

The order of the priests had a couple rituals, simple but symbolic. Although prayer may not be considered a ritual, it was to the priests. Mainly because they gave the offering of knowledge they had worked hard to find. However, there were also what people would consider rituals. The conversion of the elder tree, the blessing of a chosen one and the seed lunar celebration.

The conversion of the elder tree was the most important of all Velul rituals. It was practiced when a new cloud tree had grown to the age where it had become such a size that unless cut down, it would continue to thrive. This consisted of the gathering of all sanctuary members in the center shrine. (to be continued)

Chapter 4 - The Laws of Secrecy

Book III - An Order of Researchers

Chapter 1 - Life Behind the Prayers

Chapter 2 - Research of the Material World

Chapter 3 - The Finding of Moonlight

((So, another of my attempts at sort of story writing. I wrote this and am still writing this to go alongside my magic lore. However, being that Vel'tas Klaren wrote this in Aegis I might as well post it here. Yes, chapters and such are all short, thats plainly because of my scientific synthesizing mind which refuses to write more words than needed. Also, all the tomes were written up on my iPod which makes it look like more.))

A very tired-looking, grey-skinned woman paced around the room, taking bites into her fingernails every so often. When the door creaked, she stopped in place each time, and each time she listened for something more than simply the wind. She sighed with anxiety, and abrubtly thrust herself to the floor in a sitting position. She played with her scabbed toes, humming a familiar tune.

The door rattled. It was thrust inward, a stout, young lady standing in its portal. Stray raindrops began to fleck inward, until the dwarf woman pushed the door shut once more. She was soaked from head to toe, was carrying a burlap sack, and a very familiar, sheathed broadsword sat at her hip.

The sickly girl jumped to her feet, her deathly form suddenly full of energy. She wrapped her bony arms around the stocky one's body, nearly lifting her up. Their height difference not painfully so, they exchanged a tender kiss.

"Welcome home, my love," said the corpselike one.

The dwarf lady blushed in response. She set the bag she carried on a table inside, reaching in and withdrawing a damp loaf of bread. She fetched a heavy-looking knife from a rack above and chopped the loaf clean in half. She moved one half aside, and sliced the other into very thin pieces. She handed one of the pieces to the human, and took the opposite half and simply bit into it. Her companion nibbled politely, seeming very content.

The hungry-looking one finished her bread and slid over to her housemate. She laid her head tenderly in the other's lap, and nuzzled her belly. Still eating, the dwarf slid down her love's hood and gently pet her strawlike hair.

A youthful dwarf almost sat up in bad after a very pleasant night of sleep. She refrained from sitting up fully in order to allow her partner to remain aslumber. Softly, she lifted the bony arm from upon her breast, and set it down just as carefully back upon the bed.

She undressed from her shift without taking her eyes off of her darling. She equipped her daily wear, leather under-armor and a light hauberk, and grinned down at the bed once more. Her lover slept as soundly as the dead, and looked quite similar as well.

The sleeping one's grey feet were exposed at the end of the bed. The dwarf cocked her head, then reached down to pull the woolen blanket over again, to prevent her precious' feet from freezing.

“Keep yer' feeties warm, luv.”

Satisfied, she stepped out of the building for an indeterminate amount of time.

A pair of young women stood in a cold, Northern town, its strip long and generously sprinkled with guards. They shot suspicious looks to a zombie-like girl on the arm of a dwarf. Looks like that were expected, due to the high fear of certain types of people during that time.

The stout woman shot the guards equally dirty looks. The broadsword at her hip was always being clutched with one fist, and her love always with the other. The trio wandered down the town's main road, reminiscing about how it used to be a desert hold. It was just as bleak then.

“Undead! Kill her!” Somebody shouted. The dwarf lady glanced around, to see an accusatory finger pointing at her darling. The one who was accused whimpered, and cowered behind her siginificantly stockier companion. The dwarf lady growled threateningly.

“Yeh' got sumthin' tah say about mah' honey?” She half-drew her broadsword in rage.

The shouter backed down, quite intimidated by the angry dwarf. The two mismatched ladies continued their travel uninhibited.

A quiet night on the ice plains of old Aegis. Ingot and Annabelle sat at the top of a dark tower... one was live, the other dead. However, the one who appeared a corpse was not the one who was lost from this mortal world. The one who was limp was the young dwarf. Her choice no doubt skewed from her spectacular love, she had given her life so that the other could live. The grey lady wept for days over the body of her love. She became almost as limp in her pit of depression.

Yet, the corpselike Annabelle carried on. The love she felt was never diminished, however... and while her status as truly 'alive' could be disputed, her love could never be. The only immortality that is truly shared between two souls.

Apologies if there's anything bad in it. I can't read this without tearing up so I'm not going to.

Enjoy! ~VL

A cold wind blew around the square of an unnamed human city. A man a dark cloak in robes walked up onto a podium. He had a long, grey beard with a frail and weak form of body. “Come people! And you shall hear the tale of the Lenblades!” People gathered around, to hear the strange man on the podium tell yet another story of the Lenblade family.

It started on a day things seems at their greatest. A bright, sunny day in Renatus shined on the Lenblade family home. The respective family members where doing their respective tasks, the children laughing, the women talking and cooking, and the men sparring and practicing other skills like public speaking and singing. There was not a cloud in the sky; the sun was shining over the ideal household of the Lenblades. The people were happy, as people should be at a time like this. But Eldan and Mando were not there, at their home. They where in the mountains near Arethor, and they were on a mission together.

You see the Lenblades were mercenaries, sell swords, hired muscle. With every smiling child in the family there was a mercenary, fighting for money to support it. Eldan and Mando had failed their mission, their patron dead somewhere in the mountain, and the blame game was in full swing between the two brothers. “Damn carriage, we would have beat them to it if the wheel wasn’t so stuck.” Eldan said, cold smoke blowing out of his mouth with every word. Mando looked at Eldan with a disgusting look, he face mangled with scars and cuts. He had one eye torn out in battle, and it was replaced with a black, shiny orb of glass. He laughed the same way a parent laughs at a child after making a mistake, “You are a fool brother! You cannot blame bad aim, or failure to swing a sword correctly, on a carriage! You did nothing to protect those people, you did nothing to protect me either!” He pointed at a crack in his glass eye, where an arrow hit it. “You have failed not only the patron, but our family as well! What are you gong to do when you come home to the home Eldan? Twiddle your thumbs a say ‘Oh well, I guess we will do better next time!’? You live in a mirage that you are special Eldan, that you have the warrior’s gift. But that is all myth! You know it is a myth!” Eldan looked a Mando, and patted his hand on his shoulder, “Calm down, this is not the first job we have failed, stop acting like it is the end of the world.” Mando looked at Eldan with his good eye, full of malice and greed. “Eldan has strayed away from the path, he has been drowning in gold.” Snow was falling down on the backs of the brothers, their faces red by the cold and their swords covered with a small coat of snow and ice. Mando thought, looking out into the mountains. “I can bring us back to the way it was, I can become the person that Eldan always wanted to be. I can save the Lenblades.”

The speaker goes on with the story until a small child in verdant clothing asks, “Mister? Were there any children in this family that you are talking about?” The speaker smiles at the child, and points a long, bony finger at him. “Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt to explain the children now would it?” The speaker goes on, getting lost in the story once again.

There were 4 main Lenblade children in the family. There was Borus Acwellen the Younger, a small, stout little boy with dark brown hair and tan skin. He loved to spar, with his brother, friends, servants, anyone that he could fight with, he did. Valador Aldin, an older, larger boy with blonde hair and green eyes. He carried some Elven traits over from his grandmother, learning to read, write, and speak publicly from her. These two boys were sons of Eldan. There was Remmius Cicero, a boy that was taught to sing, write poetry, and trained to become a bard someday. The whole family supported him, for he was jolly and respectful wherever he went. Lucran Arlice, a quiet, but brave boy that was skilled with a bow. He was a fierce defender of the family name, and wore the crest proudly on his sleeve. These two sons were of Mando. Although they came from different parts of the families, they were all Lenblades, and they were all united. They lived in the same home, had the same mentors, and were all close brothers to one another. But the sons of Eldan and the sons of Mando followed and depended on their respective father, and so they would until the end of their days.

Valador looked out on the road into their house. He was perched on the roof of the house, looking out at the dusty road that wound through forests and fields. He always found roads interesting, the way they stretched so far, the way they wound around mountains and forests, going from city to city. He looked over the area. Borus was training on a dummy, with Remmius being clever and sly in his ways was teasing him, saying things like “This would be great training if your enemy was firmly implanted into the ground” or “Have you ever noticed that men around Asulon have a strange lack of arms? Neither do I”. Borus, being easily enraged, would charge at Remmius, flailing his training sword wildly at him, attempting to hit him. While Valador was watching, Eleanor looked out the window and snapped at him, “Valador! You’ll break your leg if you dare shift any closer to the edge of that roof!” Startled, Valador jumped a small bit, his back straight and his eyes wide. After a second, he calmed down and looked at his grandmother playfully. “Please don’t scare me like that avia! I may have fallen off in fright!” Eleanor climbed onto the roof, smiling at her grandson. Her hair was made up of graceful wisps of gray hair, falling down her small, slowly aging face. She had a fair bit of Elven blood in her, giving her ears a small point and making her height a fair bit taller than the other members of the family. “You are waiting for your father yes?” She said, touching Valador’s face. Valador brushed away her hand and nodded. As he did that a black square emerged from the forest, pulled by what looked to be horses. Dust was rising up from the square as it advanced towards the house. Valador and Eleanor both sighed a sigh of relief and got down from the roof to greet their family members.

The rest of family congregated at the path to the Lenblade villa, saying things like, “They’re here! Huzzah! Let us prepare a feast!” as the family usually did. Eldan and Mando stepped out of their carriage with pride and honor, as the true men of the family should. The wife of Mando, Aridia came over to hug the returned hero. Eldan had no such wife, she had died giving birth for Borus. Yet the children of Eldan came and greeted him with a warm welcome and a glass of ale. The usual festivities began. Pythagorix, the family blacksmith, made little bird-trinkets that moved when they where tapped. He was a tinkerer as well as a blacksmith, but his large, clumsy dwarven hands had a hard time making small delicate objects. Torch bugs were caught and put into lamps that were strung for lighting around the courtyard of the home. The music was the. He sang tales of the adventures of the past Lenblades. Food was prepared, soft bread and salted meat from the local butchers. Men and women were dancing, drinking, and smiling as the stars shown their face for a beautiful clear night.

Eldan looked out at the party from the window. The sounds and smells of the party filled his senses. the sounds of footsteps filled the empty hallway as Mando strolled up to Eldan, his hands behind his back. “What a party for a failure brother, I’m surprised you have not told them yet.” Mando smiled a snarky, sarcastic smile, “And this is not the first time you have failed yourself. First you fail the Halflings, then the Elves, and then this. But I’m sure you have not told them about those minor events either?” Eldan kept looking out the window, his eyes solid and his hands firmly places in front of him, “I have to keep them moving on. Confidence is the key to success.” Mando paced back and forth around Eldan, “Confidence yes, but not arrogance. And that is what you are nurturing. Look at Borus. He is easily enraged, overconfident and boastful. Look at Valador. Naïve, quiet, and can be controlled by any man half his size if he yells loud enough. You are going to ruin your sons with your selfishness. You seek perfection in lies, yet you find nothing.” Eldan put his hand on the hilt of his blade. “I do not seek perfection, I seek refuge. I seel he safety of you and me. Every mission I fail is with you, and I do not see you telling anything to Ardia or your sons? What do you seek in lies? Because even though you think the latter, you are just like me” Eldan turned around and went face to face with Mando, “You’re a warrior, you always stick to your motives. But there is one thing that separates you from me, from my bloodline.” He moved even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, “You are a coward, and you fail to fight for or protect anyone but yourself, even your own family. Because if you cared, you would have done the same thing I did.” Eldan walked away, his eyes looking deep into Mando’s good eye. Mando drew his sword from his sheath and pointed it at Eldan, “I am no coward, for I fight today for the honor the Lenblades.”

Eldan took out his sword and bumped Mando’s blade away from him. In response, Mando swung down his blade at Eldan’s feet. Eldan jumped and stepped on the blade, allowing Mando to swing his sword, thus knocking Eldan over. With one powerful blow, Eldan kicked Mando in the glass eye, having it shatter into pieces. Mando screamed in pain and swung down his sword onto Eldan’s shoulder, causing a large gash to form there. The festivities were coming to an end, so Eleanor started to go up to her room. At the top of the stairway, in the large window, stood Mando and Eldan each others blood on their blades in the moonlight.

Eleanor ran downstairs, her heart panting and her face red. She was crying to the whole villa, “Run! Run from Mando and Eldan!” The music stopped and people ran away onto their horses and into their carriages. Mando and Eldan still fought, both of them injured. They fell out of the window and swung their blade fiercely at each other. Borus, always having a sword at hand, ran over to try to fell a blow on Mando. The blade hit Mando’s upper arm, causing him to drop his blade on the ground. The sound of his father screaming and the blade clattering to the ground was enough for Lucran to take out his bow and shoot an arrow straight at the Borus’s lower leg. Borus collapsed and ran away as his father yelled at him, “You fool Borus! Run!” Lucran shot another arrow, this time aiming for Borus’s head, but instead it hit the large torso of Pythagorix. He shouted, “Dun’t hurt master Borus! Ye basterd!” He picked up one of his metal birds and threw it at Lucran, knocking him unconscious. Pythagorix picked up wounded Borus to a carriage, “Te Kal’Dwain, as fast as ye can drive!” he yelled at the carriageman. Meanwhile, Eleanor ran Valador off to the carriage. “Go little one, you must leave here, run far away.” She said, her skin still pale and her eyes still wide. Valador look at his grandmother and took her hand, pulling her into the carriage. “Not without you, please, you will only find greif in here.” Eleanor walked shakily into the carriage and said in a small voice to the carriage man, “To Malinor, as fast as possible please….” Remmius was watching in horror as Mando and Eldan fought to the death. He ran towards the home, looking for someone, anyone to help him get out of the villa. But all the carriages had gone, all the people had abandoned the villa and seemed to have left without him. Remmius looked around the empty house, and kept his ears peeled for little noises in the hollow villa. There was a light crying close to the dark walls. Remmius looked over at the wall to find a little dog, whimpering and howling. Remmius picked up the dog, with its grey, soft, curly fur. “It is ok friend, we can both get through this.” And with that, Remmius travelled the long road to Arethor, disheartened, but not alone. Lucran was on the ground after being hit by the bird, leaving his face bruised and beaten. He woke up to see Mando, with Eldan’s blade to his chest. “And so, the New Lenblades begin.” At that point, Mando plunged the blade into the heart of Eldan. The era of the Broken Lenblades had begun, and all that had to be done was pick up the pieces.

This is the story of my RP brother, Borus Lenblade, the man with an amazing mustache.

The man waved his hand around the crowd, and with his hand, the wind followed. Leaves blew in the wind, twirling around the crowd with the aroma of bread and wine sweeping behind them. “Ladies and gentlemen, now is the time. Now I shall tell you about the Lenblade children!” The crowd gathers with interest while the man goes on about the story of Borus Lenblade.

“To Kal’Dwain! As fast as ye can drive!” Pythagorix Steelhand bellowed over the screaming masses from the seat of the carriage. Pythagorix was a large dwarf. His black beard was braided, and his skin was a ghastly white pale. His dull, dark purple eyes stood out amongst the crowd. It was quite obvious that he was a dwarf of the caves. In the carriage with him was Borus Lenblade, only 13 years of age at the time. Borus’s hair was a dark brown, and he had tan skin. His eyes were a milky shade of brown, now sprinkled in tears. He had a patch on his shoulder with a “BL” stitched on it. Both Borus and Pythagorix just escaped a scene of true chaos. Borus’s uncle, Mando Lenblade, had tried to murder his father, Eldan. The villa of the Lenblades was in total calamity. People were running to flee the battle of the two brothers. The once bright festival lights went out and darkness surrounded every corner of the villa. Borus tried to help his father by attempting to attack Mando, but instead got shot in the back of the leg by his cousin, Lucran. If it Pythagorix had not stepped in and knocked out Lucran, Borus would have gotten a shot to the head. Pythagorix lead injured Borus to a carriage, and away from the fight.

Pythagorix looked over at the villa, his eyes full of sorrow. Borus looked at his leg and attempted to pull the arrow out in vain. After a few moments of silence, the scream of Eldan Lenblade pierced the skies, and echoed over to the carriages escaping the villa. Borus’s heart stopped. Pythagorix bowed his head, grabbing his shoulder with his right arm, a sign of respect to the fallen warrior. Borus did something that no one would expect him to do. He cried, and he did so until his eyes were red and stained with tears. “I could have saved him, I could have saved him….” He whimpered over and over again. After crying and whimpering, his voice started to change tone, and become dark and vengeful, “But Lucran……” Hearing this, Pythagorix looked over at Borus and said, “Now now, ye know, he was jus’ protectin’ his fatha. There’s notin ye can do ‘bout it.” Borus snapped back at Pythagorix, “No! That’s not true! His innocence was lost on that night! I could have saved him! But he stopped me! He is just as much of a murderer as my uncle!” At this point, Borus was filled with rage, his whole body was shaking, and his face was red with fury and embarrassment. Pythagorix yelled back at Borus, “Calm down! If ye can’t control ye temper, then yer no better than ‘im!” Borus cast an angry look at Pythagorix and stayed silent for the rest of the ride. Both Pythagorix and Borus had no idea about what to do but wait and hope.

Upon arriving at the Gates of Kal’Dwain, Borus was fightened for the first time in a while. As of that moment, Pythagorix was the largest dwarf he had seen. But upon entering the city, Borus quickly realized that dwarves of Pythagorix’s size were a common sight in Kal’Dwain. The sun shined on the bustling city. The mountain valley was packed to the walls with dwarves, all shuffling about, carrying logs or giant stones. Some dwarves were bickering to each other about the quality of pickaxes, some about the price of a quality axe. The mountains towered above the city; they were natural walls of the great hold. The homes of the hold had windows that peeked out to the inside valley, giving the whole place a sense of connectivity. Borus and Pythagorix got off their carriage and to the tavern. Pythagorix pat Borus on the back, “Ye stay right there lad, I’ll find sum relatives in te city. I’ll be back soon.” Borus nodded, but of course, he would not stay there.

Borus waited until Pythagorix vanished into the crowd of dwarves, and then wandered off into the mine area. He had never been underground, and the whole concept of it was new, foreign, and exciting for him. He walked down the stairs, until he hit the bottom of the area. The mine was absolutely massive, with huge pillars coming up from the earth to support the rock above. Borus noticed that the air around him became stale, and the light started to fade away. Borus was alone underground, in the mines of Kal’Dwain, at least he thought he was. He turned around to go back up to the surface, when he hit a wall. The wall cleared its throat and said, “What are ye doin’ down ‘ere. T’is is private territoreh!” Borus quickly learned that the wall was a large dwarf, in the cover of darkness. “Vulcan! Grogmir! Come ova here!” Two large silhouettes of dwarfs lumbered over to Borus. One of the dwarves reached his bulky hand out and rubbed Borus’s chin. He snickered wickedly at Borus and said to the other dwarves, “Well lukke ‘ere. Looks ‘ike we go’ arselves a beardless dwarf!” The others laughed, their laughter filling the halls of the mine. Borus, now red with embarrassment and rage drew a small dagger hidden in his boot, “S-s-step back! I c-c-can fight you!” He said, stuttering with fear. The dwarf laughed again and violently grabbed the dagger out of Borus’s hand. He took it and shone it up to a torch’s light. Then he smashed the blade of the dagger against a rock. “Puny ‘uman steel.” He said, spitting at the ground. One of the other dwarfs punched Borus in the arm, knocking him over. He said, “So yer a ‘uman are ye? What business does a ‘uman ‘ave in Kal’Dwain?” Borus quickly lied and said “F-family.” The dwarf looked skeptically at Borus. “Fam’ly? So yer a huflin’ an’ ye ‘ave even less te do ‘ere.” At this point, the third dwarf spoke up and said, “So ye t’ink yer a stron’ huflin’? Fight meh and we’ll see ‘bout t’at.” Borus got up, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the cave. He readied his fists, uncertain of his fate here below the surface.

Borus threw a punch at the dwarf, only to nearly break his knuckles on the dwarf’s hard stomach. The dwarf picked Borus up, attempting to throw him onto the ground and possibly splatter him into pieces. Borus quickly flipped over onto the back of the dwarf, trying to tip him on his back. But before he could do anything, the dwarf punched Borus’s stomach, causing him to fall over and hit the ground with a large ‘thud’. Out of the darkness, a dwarf said, “E’s a fighter all right, Vulcan, bring ‘im to te main ‘old, I cud use t’is human.

“Again.” Marthus said after watching Borus being beaten by a large dwarf. It had been ten years since he first found Borus fighting in the mines of Kal’Dwain. Marthus had dark hair and eyes, and a short, well kept beard. His arms were thick and muscular, and his eyes were a pale shade of blue. Borus had changed over the course of ten years. His eyes had become darker, more intense than before. His build became stronger; he could now beat some of the younger dwarves in wrestling matches. His skin became tough and tan, and his hair darkened. But most of all, he grew a mustache. It was a bit strange for someone to have a mustache and not a full beard in Kal’Dwain, but Borus embraced it. After being with the dwarves for years, he found himself being more and more proud to be a human. He kept his mustache bushy and long, having it extend to the ends of his face, he cared for every hair on that thing, grooming it, washing it……

A child pipes up from the end of the crowd, “Sir are you going on about another man’s mustache? That’s a bit strange.” The storyteller wakes up from a small trance and says, “Oh, right, back to the story.” He coughs nervously and continues the story.

Borus was stronger now; he was a true warrior, full of valor and honor, like a human should be. But all was not well with the Lenblade family, not for long at least.

Pythagorix walked through the empty halls of the hold. He heard his footsteps echo down the hallway. To his surprise, a dark elf walked out of one of the doorways. “Are you Pythagorix Steelhand?” He said, his, with his language as slithery as a snake. Pythagorix looked at the dark elf and said, “Aye, but what business does a grey-skin ‘ave in dwarven land?” The dark elf responded by giving Pythagorix a kinfe to the gut. He whispered into Pythagorix’s ear, “A matter of revenge.” The dark elf dropped a patch that said, “Lenblade” on it. The dark elf ran out as Pythagorix called for help. Masses of dwarves came to help Pythagorix, including Borus. Pythagorix was bleeding, his blood turning a strange green color. He was groaning and shaking around, he was obviously poisoned by something. Borus bent down and cried, “No! Please don’t die! NO!” Pythagorix uttered his last words to Borus, “Keep… te…. name alive” And with that he slowly sunk off into unconsciousness and death. Borus then remembered who he was. He was not a human simply living in Kal’Dwain. He was a human hiding in Kal’Dwain. Now that Pythagorix was murdered, he found out what he was hiding from. Mando wanted to kill him, and he would start by the people around him. After a depressing burial ceremony, Borus took a carriage away from Kal’Dwain, unsure of the future of him and his family.

In the back alleys of a city deep in dwarven lands, a man with a black cloak approached a door. A human slightly opened the door and peeked in. “Come in.” He said, his voice like a snake. The cloaked man walking in to the dimly lit room, his face was veiled by the shadows of his hood. The man in the black cloak handed the other man a map and a bag of minas. The cloaked man said, “There you go, burn the place to rubble and kill everyone inside.” The other man nodded solemnly and said “It will be done, I shall contact you when we are finished.” The man clutched the map and the bag of minas as the cloaked man walked out of the room. He looked at the map next to a warm candle’s light. He put the map aside and started to write a letter to be delivered by raven. On that map said: THE LENBLADE VILLA.

But, without further ado here it is,

Birth

The snow fell heavy with a ‘pitter patter’, and the thunder struck deep cords that fateful night. Maria Garltuum screamed out as she delivered her new born child. Terrim, the father, paced anxiously up and down the corridor waiting for news of his child. Annie the assistant midwife walked solemnly out holding a small parcel of swaddling cloth, tears streaming down her face. “Well?” Terrim demanded. “You have a son sir...” Terrim eyes twinkled, a beam spreading across his face. He looked from his son to Annie suddenly noticing her tears. “Why do you cry Annie? Is this not a joyous day?” It was all that she could do to point into the room she had stepped out from. A sudden realisation dawned upon Terrim’s face, rushing forward he pushes past Annie charging into the room. “Ya’ now that ya’ shud’nt be ‘ere.” Frowns the main midwife old Kathrin. Terrim knelt next to his wife, he looked up giving her a questioning look. “She ‘as lust a lut of blud...” Kathrin explained. “Terrim...” Maria said weakly. “What is it my love?” He asks as a tear rolls down his face. “I am not going to survive the night Terrim...” She looked into his eyes with a stare of fulfilment. “Don’t be silly my love, you’re going to be fine.” Terrim insisted to himself more than her. “Please don’t patronise my dear... I want... I want...” She struggled with the words. “What is it you want my love?” Terrim asked her in a quiet voice. “I want you to call our son Oruin, after your father...” and with that she departed from this world into the next. Terrim nodded, holding her limp body in his hands he wept. After 10, 15 minutes maybe more he stepped out of the room, he took his son off Annie, walking out onto the balcony he spoke his first words to his son “Hail Oruin Garltuum, my beloved son.”

And so ends my first part of what a hope to be a fruitful endeavour.

Writing 1: I've been apart of the Orcs wars for quite some time. I do not mean to brag in my own writings but after learning and mastering the use of an shortsword from my Orc brudda Zogtar I have been able to handle myself in battle quite well. Just sending my shortsword through a dwarf's chest is just so... invigorating! I understand why Orcs love bloodshed and I feel that is something I now share with my brethren. After paying close attention to the battles I have become rather intrigued with explosives. I mean, something so tiny can cause so much damage! Just like me! So I thought what if it was possible to make an explosive so powerful it can take out an entire army? I'm crazy right?

Writing 2: I mentioned my thoughts on explosives to Zogtar and he asked if I would want to learn blacksmithing to get a better sense of what explosives really are and such. Of course I accepted. I mean what sane gobo would deny learning how to make explosives? However after a couple months of training with Zogtar I've learned that blacksmithing is REALLY hard work. I mean how do you expect a gobo to keep carrying around heavy ingots and dragging around armor for the other orcs. It was a pain, however I have grown used to it...so damn used to it I can't fit into my clothing! I dare not boast but I have grown a substantial amount of muscle these last few months and I had to get refitted for ALL my armor. Such a pain...I haven't even begun learning about explosives! I'm just his damned lackey! ... It is rather interesting to learn blacksmithing though, and I do quite enjoy it, I just can't wait to learn about explosives!

Writing 3: It's been a year since I've started learning from Zogtar. He's finally taught me a little about how explosives are made and how they work. Took him long enough...I think he just wanted me to be his lackey for awhile before he actually taught me about what I wanted. I'm kidding, this has been a rather invigorating learning experience. After helping me craft some dynamite he wanted to show me the explosion they'd make. HOWEVER! When he threw the stick of dynamite across the sand dune I began to wonder..how far can an explosive fly through the air? I mean wouldn't this help the Orcs if we would know how far the dynamite would go? After thinking of this for a day or so I came to the conclusion that an archer would know all about air current and such. I'm stumped now for I do not know an archer... guess it's time for some Goblin ingenuity!

Writing 4: I've decided to learn more about archery before I can finish my training with Zogtar. So what I've been doing these last few weeks is watch professional archers shoot a target. After watching I have come to conclusion. The way an arrow is made helps how far the arrow can go. You see most common arrows are 'stream lined' and are light weight and have the most weight at the tip, that being the metal attachment. An arrow does not go completely straight! It eventually dips down due to an unknown force! So the heavier the object the faster it falls? Not exactly. I believe there are multiple factors that affect how far an object goes based on it's weight and shape. However I have not come to a conclusion on all the factors...

Writing 5: I'VE GOT IT! The arrow dips down eventually due to an unknown force that is for certain, however the reason it takes longer to dip down than let's say throwing a stone is because the force behind the arrow is greater than the unknown force. Of course I'm ignoring the angle the arrow is shot. Eventually the force behind the arrows depletes and the unknown force has a greater affect on the arrow. The majority of the unknown force I believe focuses mainly on the heaviest point of the arrow, that being the tip which would explain the dip. The factors of an arrow would differ from a stick of dynamite. This would also include the air current and the angle it is thrown. Air current also affects an arrow but the shape of the arrow seems to 'pierce through'. So this means the dynamite has to either be lighter in weight and shaped more 'stream lined' or there has to be a greater force behind the throw... before I can get more knowledge about this I must return to Zogtar and finish learning blacksmithing and go into more depth into explosives..

Writing 6: It's been a rough couple of months but I have finally finished my training and Zogtar has given me title of Master Smith. I haven't felt so proud of myself since...well since I learned about Air Current and the unknown force and such heh. Well, now I have more time on my hands. I've been crafting dynamite in different shapes, lighter weight, and adding more gunpowder... but to no avail. I thought my efforts were wasted. However I believe I need to look at this with a different angle. I've become a Master Blacksmith and have learned in depth about explosives and archery! That is something to proud of! ...I will not stop tinkering with explosives until.. well until I am unable to hehe! I do have a couple experiments that must be finished before I can give up on increasing the range of dynamite.

Writing 7: I've gotten side tracked.. rather than tinkering with explosives I've been tinkering with bows and all sorts of armor and weapons. I will not go into detail of what I have done to those items mentioned but I do believe this will help the War Nation.. definitely. Tinkering with explosives has been rather hard to do, as all my experimental explosives and such were used in the latest battle with the dwarves. Now that I think about it, I cannot remember how long it's been since I wrote one of these? I've been so involved with other matters it seems I have forgotten all about time itself! Oh well, I do believe this will be the last of my writings. Too much work to do and I must make the best of my time. I'm not good with ending things so abruptly so...I guess I can say this, beware dwarves! For Aki'Ra the Master Tinkerer shall soon have you on your knees begging to not be blown up! hehe, farewell...

This story is one of hardship and grimace, and oh I must inform you dear reader. If a weakened heart is one you possess, I truly suggest a leave of distress. But if your mind is one of chase, then I truly suggest reading with pace.

Our story begins in a world of little mess, hallowed woods, Aegis way. Within these woods of hallowed oak. Dwelt a family, true and pace. They frolicked within these misty grooves, until one day. When none to chase.

Ah but Poetry gets ever so old, so that shall be the end of our lyrical section, the story of which I tell. Is that of a little girl, and her descent to evil. In her youth, I believe she called herself.. Colette Snow. Born in a cottage, gently born. Though her mother would one time argue that it was not a gentle birth.. She was not of a rich family, though certainly not of poor. She never went without want, nor need... until of course, her father was kicked from his job. Drinking the ale of which he brewed, they were in more and more disarray, until a misty day.. Came a brightly robed man, he offered for all of ‘His’ Problems to go away, though he did mention the cost was dear.. Her father listened in, and not more then once she saw his eyes bulge.. Color creep from his neck. But he allowed the man inside, and he signed the contract. He had heard her parents scream that night, her father arguing in a tone less then cheerful.

“For the good of the family!”

Colette had naught an idea of what he meant, though sooner then not. A soundly knock echoed from the door, Colette trudging forward, barging it open. The men looking down upon her.

“She’ll do.” They grasped her by the hair, Colette shrieking all the while pushing a bag upon her head, as she franticly swarmed the man, trying to evade their tight grasp, she saw her father. In an never-ending display of sadness.. What had happened. She had not a clue, and then.. Sooner then naught. Little Colette’s shrieks were far to hear, only a weeping mother, and father to hear.

She was swept away, at dawn to dusk. The bumpy caravan struggling to behold the large group, but it labored on. Colette being forced to stay awake, confused as she was. She tried to maintain her composure, her mother had always taught her, a lady’s weakness, and best strength. Was tears.. She would know when to cry, and when to stay shut.. If she had cried, she knew one of the men would whip her, as he had just a moment before.. She was in a good bit of trouble, but Colette was bright for her age, and struggled, as she does. To remain calm.

[i will mention a good chunk of this story will remain unposted, it has explicit.. Grotesque/Gross themes. I will be editing those down, to conform to standards.]

Hymn Of Memory

Nevermore shall I sleep

Under starry sky

My body lay outstretched to me

Misplaced in thought and time

Through the forests brier

Under great hand of stone

Let you never be waiting

For me to call your own

Beyond the mists

That call me home

Twisted mirrors lie

Visages and masks of white

Never fool my midnight eye

Drought in moonlight

Crescent hair

Shall she call me forever more

Upon her arms I fade away

Gone to the distant shore

Isolated and wrought within

The world wills upon me

Wither and rot

All to consume

The shreds of life that joins

"Treasurer" - Ceslav Folk Song:

See the fire underground?

Feel the cold, fear and despair?

Its treasurer damned light,

Calling down to miners pyre.

(Chor.)In the farest mountain caves,

In the tunnels, vaults and dens,

Below deepest underlakes,

Gold and diamond Tresurer makes...

In the tunnel darkest night,

I herd whang and whang and whang,

Met treasurer below ground,

Oh how dredful his pick rung,

In the farest...

Young and brave was the lad,

Coming down to cave with arms,

foolish young one run like mad,

From treasurer dreadest glance,

In the farest...

Mining iron from its heart,

Felt his gaze on my back,

leaning lousy on my cart,

"Have a fire?" He just asked,

In the farest...

Set a foot in newest mine,

Large rat stood with fur dark brown,

hold me with his two red eyes,

Till the tunnel crumbled down,

In the farest...

There was once a miner great,

Reached farthest of the depths,

Mining gold and gems his fate,

Till treasurer once he met.

In the farest mountain caves,

In the tunnels, vaults and dens,

Below deppest underlakes,

Gold and diamond Tresurer makes...

------------------------------------------

Here is the music I had in mind when writing this song:(Cut from song: "Gody" by Jar, Polish Folk Band.)

The First 28 seconds are just music(Normal for folk songs, its to gather spectators), then starts first verse. At 35 second goes Chorus, until 46 second, and so on. A little crude, but I hope enjoyable.

(OOC) I will share them as I write them... if people end up reading something about their character in one of these and are offended I apologize. I wanted to write stuff about the lore and sometimes the characters that exist in that lore are most interesting part of it. Thank you.

When I sang to you in the morning,

You answered me with love

And the birds harmonised with my melody,

As they flew in the sky above.

I sang to you at noon,

When the bright sun burned the ground.

You walked at my side, protected,

By the love that we had found.

In the afternoon, I played to you

Beneath the shade of trees.

Then I saw dark clouds approaching,

As your love cooled in the breeze.

We listened to bells in the evening,

When the long, grey shadows fell,

Until I heard their ringing toll

Our love's death knell.

I sang to you at night

And the melody echoed clear.

For there was only emptiness

Where you had left me, dear.

As a dream dies swiftly,

So my love has flown.

Where once I heard a melody,

Remains a single tone.

Yes, love has flown swiftly

As the ending of a dream.

At last the song is ended,

And silence reigns supreme.

May Aeriel watch over you....

Motionless in black.

My feet crossed, my posture straight.

Hands clasped behind my back.

Suddenly in the dark,

I hear a winding sound.

The opening chords of my melody,

Vibrating beneath the ground.

The lid slowly opens,

The melody voices its chime.

For now, I am the star,

Now is my time to shine!

The tinkling chimes inspire me,

I dance, I twirl, I leap.

Never wanting to end my dance..

The music slows to a creep.

The beautiful melody cease,

My slowing motions lull me to sleep,

As the lids closes down, and darkness resumes,

I can not help but weep.

My tears have stained my eyes.

Sorrow fills me. My heart broken. Why is this?

My blood has stained my skin.

Strength. Weakness. The difference a thin line.

My soul has stained my mind.

My fist clenched. My blade sharpened. I am ready.

My lust has stained my body.

What happens when you take all a man has away from him?

My sorrow has stained my heart.

My strength unleashed. My emotions open. I am ready.

My trust has stained my life.

I open my heart to the pain, I welcome it.

Kick me when I am down, you only make me stronger.

Lust or love. Guidance is sought. Hope is earned.

My tears have stained my eyes.

My blood has stained me skin.

My soul has stained my mind.

My lust has stained my body.

My sorrow has stained my heart.

My trust has stained my life.

Kick me when I am down, you only make me stronger.

Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wander. My soul is free.

Do you love me?

When we touch. When we clutch. I feel a rush.

Is it lust?

Grip my heart. Bite my tongue. Clench my fist.

You make me crazy.

Beautiful. Deep. Strong.

You are me.

Without you I am weak, without you I am pointless.

You make me.

----------------------------------------------------------------

A little extra one as well~

Memories

Memories cloud my sight, whispering in my ear. Have no fear.

They drench me in sorrow, no tomorrow, a timeless night full of nightmares and demons

Who was I? Who am I? Will I ever know? Nostalgia galore, I am weary and alone.

Prone to dissatisfaction and hate, fate be damned your broken and cruel.

Memories of pain, of love and of lust, of dreary woes and broken bones, cruelty held me.

Rusen, my name, but is that who I am?

Can one be forgiven for their forgotten sins?

Is a bad man bad when their pinned to the floor and begging for mercy?

Who was I? Who am I? Will I ever know?

The first half "The Tree of Life":

When digging the foundations for a protective wall of the Haven, Candle and Arcadius discovered an e xpansive circular cavern. Aeriel appeared to Omni and told him this was where he must plant the seed ling. Riizu and Sue raised a chunk of land from the center of the cavern, and Omni did as the Aengul had bid. Sh e then appeared to him again and told him that as long as this tree flourished, there was hope for t he peoples of Aegis. But if it should ever wither, Iblees taint would spread across the entire world. The Tree was tended in its early days by an Ascended called Okonkwo. He was recognized for his dedication and the care for which he shows the Tree, and so was raised to the rank of Acolyte.

Enlightened Healing:

The understanding of the abilities that we are given by Aeriel is a study of ourselves. We all have unique and special talents. Each being is given a purpose to help others. These can be trained to be better and stronger. To hav e focus. I, Shoi, guide the new healing and scholars. Now baring silver rather then red or orange as the Sages presented. I feel that my students shall all learn to help the people of Aegis from the taint of the undead. This I beleive will strengthen the talents further and raise our abilites. We have found to remove a minor taint requires two ascended. One controlling the prism that filters out the taint and compacts. The other infusing energy and guiding the taint into the heart. This is were the prism is contorted into a stone that is easily removed. The Seeress must recieve the stone to finish the sealing of the taint. Noting each stone is colored on the deeds done to absorb the tai nts. I only noticed black would be the ones close to the undead, forced on them. Then rimmed in a co lor of their darkest fears. I advise that my students note with our blood we reside safe from the taint, protected by Aeriel. As many people are not. The taint easily spead like a sickness or plague. No beings should be allowed within the area of the healing. Only the tainted and the ascended. May those whom read this book understand the pain and sorrow we deal with in these actions... May we save Aegis from the undead.

Alethion's Bio:

Born in the Holy Princedom of Malinor, Alethion was raised by normal parents. He grew up with his brother, Reignor. One tragic day, on the outskirts of Malinor, their mother and father were both killed by an unknown group. A year later, by his rageful temper, Reignor hunted down the ones who he suspected of murdering his parents and violently murdered them. After he dug himself such a giant hole, he accused his little brother Alethion of the murders and Alethion was banished from the Princedom of Malinor. Falsely accused, torn apart, and all alone, Alethion was to find his way through life. He learned from what happened to his parents and his brother and moved on. 5 Years later, he was allowed back to the Princedom. At that point, his brother went missing. Seeking a better life, Alethion strives to remove the core of the evil in Aegis: The Undead. For he is certain the undead is the reason his family fell apart... Now he has a companion, Akorta. A friendly wooden masked human. He has quite the story as well... But that's for another time. I have to go Soz!

*A note inside the cover of the last books reads "To all those seeking knowledge of magic, take heed of this warning. The fate of the world lies within your future."

Bell's Final Journal:

I have not been as diligent with keeping writings as I once was. This is disappointing on my part, but...circumstances prevented it. What is there to say now, really? I have given up. I have been...captured, tortured by the undead many times now. I have removed the spells which cause the Monks to retrieve my body with ease, even within such a tainted place as the Undead Keep. Why they...he...wants me to join him, so badly, I do not know. Nor do I care to know.

But, before I go into that, I should clarify what I have been doing. The Arcane Mage graciously offered me a position as an Arch Mage a few years ago. I was happy then. I was expecting to be able to find a way to save Aegis, to protect it... I failed, obviously. But I am sure now, more than ever, that the disturbance in the Balance has been caused not by a fail ure on the part of any of the Four Races, but on the failure of those this "test" was administered t o. I believe more than ever that this all was a test for the children of the Aenguls. A test which they failed. The Undead were never meant to have the massive effect on the world that they have. The Veil is falling apart. With it, Iblees is gaining more power. Yet, ironically, the further weakening of the Veil is the only thing which could grant us the use of magic! How the world laughs at us. The Veil must be sealed. This has gone on long enough. Magic is not worth the insanity that the unde ad bring, the chaos and destruction and pain.

But I have not the power to do so. I have been fighting the undead in my own way. Defending the places they attack... And turning their own followers against them. Latsi, I truly hope you are happy. I...truly hope you do not allow them to get to you, either physic ally or mentally. Do not fall, my would-be apprentice. I realize you will likely never read this. If worst comes to worst, I will have to either end my own life...or have someone end it for me. I will not allow myself to be turned. And this book will likely rot on the shelves of the Library...which is fine by me. There is no need for the world to read words from a traitor like myself, who...has many times nearly given in to the temptation, just to make the pain stop. Latsi at least must stay a bastion of truth. An example of what you can become... Though it would have been better if he had not joined the Ascended, though if he stayed with me he s urely would be being tortured also. Regardless, it would be selfish of me to try and attempt to change his mind. He is free. Let him do as he pleases. And I...am free for the time being, as well. Hence I write this missive quickly lest they find me again.

Unfortunately a side effect of the....things that have been happening to me is the return of numerou s memories. Some from long ago, long forgotten...these hurt the I care not to get into them, but I...I ca nnot believe I forgot them in the first place. All of them hurt, really. I recall meeting the first Prophet. I recall the offer he gave me, the things...that happened then. How I almost fell to my temptations. The current Prophet simply loves brining those memories up, the ruddy... I believe he was upset when he lost me the first time. The fact that I rose back to fight against him again made it worse. That, and the fact that I turned Latsi against them angered them as well. I failed at changing Kevin, though at first I thought I suceeded. I failed at convincing Algor otherwise. In truth, my failures outweight my successes. And the betrayals that I have faced have made me bitter, angry, paranoid. They belittle the trust I place in people and the friendships that I keep. I fear death....but I fear rising from it more. If I can survive this trial...I will write again. More frequently than I have been. If I do not...I apologize in advance. If I somehow falter and become tainted, please. Please kill me. Do not let me hurt my compatriots, my friends, the people that I hold dear. Killing me would be the greatest favor one could grant me. I need to finish this now. I do not want to lure them back to the Mage's Tower in their hunt for me. I...there isn't much to say. The Ascended and the Undead were put on this earth as a test, a test which was failed. The Veil needs to be strengthened, not weakened, even if it costs us magic. That...is all there is to say.

Stay strong in the face of these circumstances.

Signed,

The Arch Mage, Lady *a longer name is written here, then scratched out beyond recognition* Bell.

Full name: Maya Jing

Nicknames: May

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: The 14th of The Deep Cold, year 30

Age: 18

Hair: Brown/Black, silk like

Skin: Pale

Eyes: Orange/Golden

Height: Around the 1,66 Meters tall

Place of Residence: Unkown so far.

Place of Birth: Farport

Relatives: Hui Jing(Brother), Shu Jing(Brother), Aura Jing(Mother, Deceased) and Hun Jin(Father, Imprisoned)

Enemies: -

Allies: Shu Jing, Hui Jing

Occupation: None

Crafting: None

Appearance:

Fashion of Choice: Thin metal chest plate with shoulder, elbow and kneepads. She’s also wearing dark partly “baggy” trousers.

Armor of Choice: The same as her normal daily clothes, though if it was for war, her armor would be slightly heavier.

Weapons of Choice: Two War-Hammers.

Personality: Strong-Minded, Stubborn, Non-Caring, “Cold”, Stern, quiet, faithful.

Alignment: Neutral

Motivations: Hope, search for happiness, success

Disposition: Reluctant, though not scared

Outlook: Determined

Religion/Philosophy: Om’echan

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Positive Personality Traits: Faithful, stubborn, Strong-Minded.

Negative Personality Traits: Non-Caring, Cold.

Misc. Quirks: Mayas’ right ear usually starts to twitch when she gets nervous. She whistles with the birds in the morning, if. She’s happy.

Affiliations: None

Faction: None

Interests: Jewelry making, training, leafs(for tea of course)

Likes: Tea, training, reading, jewelry, custard tarts and fruit pies.

Dislikes: Getting Drunk, pipes(smoke), magic, Elves.

Hobbies: Making tea, reading, training.

Theme Songs:

History:

Maya Jing grew up far from any civilization, at all, having no knowledge to the mainland what so ever. This place was a little island, in the middle of the ocean, a port of course, as the name confirms: “Farport.”

Maya had many dreams as young, a happy and cheerful girl, though her days went with helping her mother, often watching the boys fight and brawl on the fields from a distance. She once asked her father, Hun, if she could play with them, but she couldn’t. And he, not caring- waved her towards the other girls, leaded by the richest man’s daughter, such a terrible creature… Her eyes was always watching Maya, making sure there was something to point out as foul or old… She just couldn’t be their friend, without, of course, doing something stupid. Which Maya did endless times, always giving them something to giggle about and she a punishment from home. They were a terrible group and every single day they kept bullying Maya, always making her dash home, weeping, searching for some comfort,

but this family…? No. Her brothers were a bunch of depressive kids: Shu Always reading, never participating in anything though sweet in his own ways at times and Hui seemingly, by any means, swinging a wood sword around, striking at the biggest trees and clumsiest child’s…

It was a beautiful morning; the sun glowing orange as it rose from the sea, not a sound could be heard as Maya stepped outside, her feet touching the dusk wet grass, she already felt older. It was her 10th birthday and her hopes for a new day; a change was with her, her stomach tickling in excitement as she sat down on the stone-beach, tossing the perfect round stones into the water, but suddenly, out of the perfect silence a yell could be heard.

“Garhhh! My back!” It was Old man Jenkins who was calling for help. He was an old man which had traveled far and wide, gray loose hair which went to his shoulders, mostly greasy since he hardly ever washed himself. Maya quickly got up and ran over to Jenkins. He had stumbled over a rock and had landed roughly on the ground. Maya looked at him for a second, her eyes squinting in disbelief as he quickly got up himself, smiling, though a bit harshly since he was hurt. “Ahhh, Maya, how are you little one?” He asked with a kind and raspy voice, everyone said he was crazy, telling stories to others that he once encountered a people which walked like Humans, but were entirely Ocelots. Maya looked confused at him over the sudden attention and smiled back broadly, telling him it was her birthday, and as the only one, he gave her a present, a small hat with a red rose on the side. From that day on Maya visited Jenkins every day, in the mornings and late at night where her parents were asleep, the rest of the day she was working, cleaning the boys clothes, washing up and making food, but when she was at Jenkins he told stories about the cat people which were agile as the quickest spider, about huge green monsters, strong as giants and invincible as dark-stone(obsidian) and a tiny, peaceful people, where their life was only happiness and joy, opposite Maya’s…

Years passed and Maya only grew more stern and colder for each day that went on and especially after the death of Jenkins, Maya hadn’t seen him for a long time and she felt sorrow and anger, she was the only one he had, he just died alone, in his cold, cold kitchen… After their mother passed away the three siblings only saw each other once a year; Shu living in a small and humble cottage by the coastline and Hui at whoever knows what.

Never having left the island, having the magnificent stories roaming her head she walked the beach every day, wondering on what could be out there, sighing in hope that someone on the other side of what seemed of an endless ocean, could hear her. And one did, not the way she wanted to, nothing to do with the faraway lands, but she got an occupation, Maya started off at the always warm smiling smith and his family, she lived there and took care of the screaming child’s. Not a thing she wanted to do, nor enjoyed, but one day, the smith had broken his hand after slamming it with a hammer and needed the help of someone. Their last resource was Maya.

Maya looked up from the anvil as the three 20 to 31 year old guards walked up to the smith and knocked hardly on the wooden counter, Maya glanced up in surprise and frowned hardly as the guards looked at her with a smirk.

Asking with a cheesy voice why a lady like her worked there and not in their barracks. Maya ignored them and looked back at the anvil where the small bracelet was starting to take shape, the few gems in it sparkling in the sun. Maya felt their voices going muffled as they started to speak louder, her eyes fixed at the bracelet with a small smile, proud. A peaceful and nearly sleepy mood surrounded her… All of a sudden she found herself lying in the local wise women’s house, having an icepack on her head, feeling dizzy after the man tossed a stone at her when she didn’t react…

And finally, luck and fortune stuck upon Maya once more and a letter arrived, given to her. It was her brother, Shu, which mysteriously had left the island a few months ago, writing to her, if she. His youngest sister, wanted to partake on HIS ship. Everything was set right after she read that letter, with a feeling of sudden happiness and excitement which she had only experienced once before, she packed what little she got and took the next boat towards the center of the world… The main lands of Asulon.

Full Name: Shu Jing

Nicknames: Shuey (Childhood Nickname)

Race: Human/Southron

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: Tolta, 10th of The Grand Harvest, Year 23

Age: 25

Hair: Black

Skin: Pale

Eyes: Orange

Height: 5ft 9"

Place of Residence: Holm

Place of Birth: Farport

Relatives: Hui Jing (Brother), Maya Jing (Sister), Aura Jing (Mother, Deceased), Hun Jing (Father, Imprisoned)

Enemies: -

Allies: Hui Jing, Maya Jing

Occupation: None

Crafting: None

Appearance:

Fashion of Choice: Red suit

Armor of Choice: Boiled leather

Weapons of Choice: Rapier

Personality: Depressive, assertive, stern, stalwart, stubborn.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Motivations: Success and Honour

Disposition: Sour

Outlook: Hopeful

Religion/Philosophy: Ome'chan

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Positive Personality Traits: Stalwart, honourable

Negative Personality Traits: Depressive, stubborn

Misc. Quirks: Although he usually does not smile, when he does it is a half-grin

Affiliations: Loyal to Holm

Faction: The Nation of Holm

Interests: Political intrigue, naval warfare

Likes: Cold weather

Dislikes: Ale, Magic

Hobbies: Sailing, reading.

Theme Songs:

History:

Shu Jing grew up in Farport, as per it's name, the town is very far from any other place, and ofcourse, a port town. As a child, unlike his brother, he would spend his days indoors, reading of fantasy stories of heroic heroes slaying the cretins of the night. When his Mother would convince him to go outside, he would simply stay quiet and watch the other children play, they would call him 'Shuey', which he found utterly irksome, he hated them. His Father, the local fisherman, would take Shu out on his trips. Shu found the cool breeze air against his face, surrounded by endless ocean absolutely beautiful and breathtaking. Over time his Father taught him how to man the ship.

Shu grew into a slender build, unlike his brothers bulky and muscular build. Whilst his brother would practice with a wooden shortsword, hacking and slashing haphazardly, Shu would be agile and quick with a thin stick, stabbing rather than slashing. The children began to insult him, push him around, he took the beatings. His brother watched from afar, seeming to ignore the torment Shu was going through. The daily bullying left him a sour and depressive man, hardly ever seen smiling.

By the age of 25, Shu had his own cottage just outside of Farport where his own small boat was docked. His friend Pasang had tailored him a suit, Shu is hardly ever seen without it. The children of the village, now adults had never apologized to Shu for their torment, they would simply look the other way when he would walk into town. Shu had never ventured far from his island, knowing almost naught about the mainland and their ways of life, their nations and the other races. The only race living in Farport was humans, and only Old Man Jenkins had seen Kharajyr before, though most thought he was insane.

The temptation of adventuring to the mainland overtook his senses. He packed his bags, left his cottage and sailed out into the unknown. Stormy weather took his ship by a firm grasp and sent it shattering against ice in the middle of the night. Shu Jing float unconscious in the water atop the debris of his ship. Finally, the citizens of Holm found him and took him in.

That sits by the Keep

A woman sat down

Staring at the calm pool

Her eyes once filled with happiness

Now sits with eyes of sadness

Her heart in pain

Pain of someone with an evil heart

Lied and frighten her

A long time ago...

A light warm breeze blows

Strange, and mellow

Unknown to the woman

Someone was watching her

She grips onto her chest

Her heart beating heavily

Like a anguel arrow struck her

She felt a warm embrace

Arms stronger then a dragon

She turns around and sees the stranger

A kind man who was starting to cry

A friendly face and a kind soul.

The woman dried his tears

And said, "Everything will work out"

Her eyes slowly turned

From a light gray to a dark blue

Back to true self a long ago

A woman's heart

So fragile and small

Can withstand great evil

May she be strong

Because her road of life is long

And hard at times

But now, she has someone

Who will be at her side

Who understands her for what she is

A woman with a heart of pure gold.

((Updated 16/6/2012))

a deep breath is taken, and black, creative lifeblood is spilled on the canvas of the mind.

Foreword:

Within the confines of this book lie Enlightenment, and the ways of obtaining such as revealed to Ithric, first Inquisitor of The Way through Cithric the Enlightened. But before these bountiful gifts are given, we must analyze what The Way truly is. You may ask yourself, what is Enlightenment? Do I need it? Do I want it? Do I even deserve it? And the simple answer to these questions is the fact there is no simple answer. The notion of Enlightenment is far from a simple one, it is the most complex and most troublesome question since “What is life?” But do not fret, young follower of The Way. You are not alone in your question-riddled mind, and you will certainly not be the last to lack understanding. The Way shall help you learn of what Enlightenment truly is, and perhaps even this book will shed some light on the subject for what is a goal if you do not at least have some idea of what it is? Enlightenment is the destination of The Way, the goal of life, and the purpose of man. It is why intelligent life was given reason and intellect. Enlightenment is achieved when one’s soul reaches a state of purity, and becomes one with the universe. It is the perfect peace.

Chapter 1: The Five Tenets of the Soul

The Five Tenets of the Soul, or the Pillars of Piety as some have called them, are hallmarks of The Way that all followers must obey if they are to remain on the path of righteousness and not stray into routes of chaos and corruption. The Five Tenets are Justice, Charity, Humility, Trust, and Retribution. Know these well for they shall be your moral compass for the remainder of your journey to Enlightenment. But perhaps we getting ahead of ourselves, we must first analyze what these tenets truly mean before we can use them to guide us in our deliberation.

Justice:

Justice does not have to be carried out through courts and laws, but can be done through your everyday actions and your desire to do good. Let us inspect a simple scenario and see how Justice applies to us all, even those who do not enforce the law. A ragged man steals several apples from a cart of dozens. He appears sickly and emaciated, the outlines of his bones clearly visible and his teeth yellowed from rot. The man obviously does not have much in terms of wealth, nor does he appear well fed. Now you may think that the apple farmer will not miss those apples, and this man is clearly starving so you should let him go without a word. This is quite wrong, and a strict violation of justice for taking what does not belong to you is not how intelligent beings act, it is how animals act. But should you call for the lawmakers and their prisons? The answer again, is no. You must take this matter in your own hands and make the man give the apples back. Although seemingly cruel, this scenario easily leads us into the next Hallmark, Charity but before we finish discussing Justice remember that nobody, not the law makers, not the poor, and the not the clergy are above the Laws of Intelligent Beings. Those shall be revealed later on.

Charity:

Charity is a fascinating pillar of the Way in the fact that it is often easy and highly neglected by those that it is easiest for. Let us return to your scenario with the apple thief and say that the tenet of Justice has been fulfilled and he has been forced to return the apples, but the authorities were not notified. Now this man will surely starve and this is partially due to the fact the tenet of Justice was carried out. The Tenet of Charity is what will prolong this man’s life, for to live a life dedicated to Enlightenment, you must be charitable with your good fortune and aid others in their journey as well. A moral being, a being whom follows the tenets, a being whom seeks Enlightenment must give this man a small sum of money, some food, and some drink so that he may continue to live. This similar treatment must be given to all of your fellow intelligent beings, even if you have very little for if one’s needs are satisfied, they will not violate the law in attempted to satisfy them. You preserve one’s soul when you practice charity, remember this.

Humility:

Humility is a unique pillar for it deals strictly with one’s self. The question often arises, “Why must I be humble to seek Enlightenment? Surely I should be proud of my achievements and abilities!” and at times you should be proud of the work you have accomplished, but a mind consumed by pride is one that has strayed from The Way. The answer to this question is that you cannot learn anything unless you admit you know nothing, and that fact is quite evident in The Way. To seek Enlightenment, you cannot believe that you are Enlightened, for if you were then you would not be seeking it and if you do not admit you know nothing, then how can you learn? The answer is you cannot. This is why those dedicated to The Way must make a Confession of Ignorance to admit to their lack of knowledge. Only then can one’s journey truly begin.

Trust:

Trust is by far one of the most difficult pillars to practice, for it requires the cooperation of two, or more, souls to fully achieve. Living a life of paranoia and hatred of your fellow beings is not one that will lead you to Enlightenment, in fact it will stray you from the path, turn your soul wicked, and cause you to stray others away from their journey. This is clearly an unacceptable outcome, and therefore you must trust your brothers and sisters. This is obviously a difficult concept for many, trusting strangers is often far from wise but the correct application of trust will earn the trust of others. With this trust doors shall open for other moral deeds, and vices such as animosity will disperse.

Retribution:

The final Tenet of The Soul, and perhaps one of the greatest, is Retribution. One may think this to be getting revenge or forcing others to atone for their crimes but that is not what this tenet is about. This tenet fits into the life of a follower of The Way through his or her drive to make penance for their mistakes and imperfections. Retribution is giving back what you, yourself took from the world through your vices and immoral deeds. For every transgression you carry out, you must atone for this with more than simply asking for forgiveness, for actions often do speak louder than words. Now let us return to the apple thief scenario. After the tenets of Justice and Charity are carried out accordingly with this thief, Retribution must also be carried out. A follower of the Way should ask that he repay his villainous apple thieving through a moral deed, whatever that may be. Of course if he refuses, then one must be convincing. Never forget about your fellow man, orc, dwarf, or elf for they too must be stopped from straying away from The Way and not only yourself.

A poem of the Tricked and Decieved

You're here.

You're gone.

Here.

Gone!

Here!

Love? But a word made to comfort the pitiful.

To use and control the slaves you almost lost.

Why must you trick me?

Why must you deceive me?

You act as if you care, yet you run to her!

I haven't said stop. Haven't said No. Haven't said Go.

Words that would have stopped this

I kept running back to you, I kept hope.

I thought "One more chance! One more chance!"

But each and Everytime, it ends the same.

Here.

Gone.

Here!

Gone!

Enough tricks, enough suffering.

Go back to her.

The one you care so much about.

The one that brought your success and happiness.

Forget me.

The one that brought suffering

The one that gave you stress and piled failure upon failure.

But guess what!

I may be dead, I may be homeless, I may be useless

But I found happiness.

Look not at my posture, nor my expression of misery.

I shall not dwell on the sadness that reeks in my past.

Instead of you to me, it shall be I to you.

Here. No more.

Gone.

Forgotten.

Unknown.

Staring grimly down at the paper, Danic folds it, tucking to into his ragged pocket. Pinching the candle out, he bundles and ventures out into the snow.

The City of Exilcar was run by Deragoth Atrutus the wicked. In the earliest ages, Great King Eorniir Atrutus reluctantly chose Deragoth to rule over a province of Eonalith. Deragoth was mesmerized by the dark magic of the northern mages. They amazed him and he was drawn in by the power they held. He commanded that they teach him in the arts, but they refused. Of course with rage he then commanded that they be killed, but they pleaded that if they were to die the ability would die out then and there. He heeded their words and tried to offer them power and money but nothing appeased them. He finally cried out with rage once more, “What then?! What doth ye need for me to be taught?! I have offered all in my kingdom but my life and yet ye hold back that of which I seek!” The mages whispered amongst themselves until finally one turned to the arrogant king with a grin. “There may be something ye can do for us…” The mages and the dark king discussed this “something” that would be done. No more than a few weeks later after the king had not been seen, he emerged armored from head to toe in thick iron and gold. He readied many troops and he declared that war was on the horizon. The walls were shut and many were moved into the city. The crowds tried to manage their lives within the city walls. More and more youth took the call to arms and joined the militia of King Deragoth. Their numbers were said to be three times that of the city itself. Once the men joined the militia they were not seen after a few years of service. Rumors moved through the city streets about the mages and the king. No man dared to speak of it in public and the guards would take care of anyone who dared to do so. Tales of war and the soldiers came back to the city. It was said that they were fighting against ancient magic and terrible evils. It was said that the guards were sworn to a life of service to the king. People all had their own ideas of how the battles were waged, but no true tales were told. The city grew quiet. Time had spurred their curiosity and finally they spoke. Tales that the sorcerers wished for the souls of all the kings’ men spread like a wild fire. The King didn't care for the lives of the guards so he commanded them all to make a blood seal to the sorcerers. They bound the blood to a blade that the king bared. The king commanded the army against their will but he still sought immortality. So they bound his soul to his blade and he stayed there growing old and yet still persisting, rusting and yet moving, collecting dust and yet still crying out through the ruins of his castle. His blade was lost once the sorcerers fought for it. It was said to be hidden in the north somewhere.

The first side I shall look at is that of the Humans. Now, aside from a few slight skirmishes that the humans had with the Orcs when they first arrived in the land of Aegis, their have been no major conflicts between the two races. So, obviously, the problem must be deeper than that.

In order to solve this mystery, I observed an Orc raid on a Human town. There was the expected loss of life, looting of homes, raping of churches, burning of women, but what I noticed was that, after the orcs had left, none of the children had been harmed. And, to top it off, the only people who had been killed were those adults who had bourn offspring.

This event made my curious, so I began researching into this phenomenon and found that nearly 95% of the general population is orphaned. That means that of the 4,976 humans in the world of Asulon, nearly 4,727 of them have lost their parents, most of them to Orc brutality. The affects of this can be seen in the many orphans running around Asulon.

I found these numbers to be appalling. I now had an answer to my riddle...or did I? This explained the human animosity towards the Orc race, but not that of the Orcs themselves.

In order to continue my research, I traveled to a small Orcish city, which shall remain nameless, and observed the human retribution, which I found to be truly heinous indeed. As would be expected, the humans charged in and quickly subdued the unwary. Then, they would line them up in the center of the city where the Humans would take a baby from it’s mother, dangle it in the air by its foot, then release their grip, sending the baby plummeting to the ground where it would land on its head. Then, they would leave it where it lay and move to the next child.

After the humans left, the mothers would go to their children to check for injury. Seeing only superficial wounds, the mothers would bandage up their children and go on with their lives. Unfortunately, it was the damage that was unseen which is partly to cause for this violent cycle to continue. Of course, no infant can come out of a fall like that without even slight neurological damage and, as is quite obvious with the Orcish race, the affects are usually much worse.

What most humans count off as the stupidity of Orcs is, in fact, a form of mental retardation cause by severe trauma to the head as a child. This mental handicap causes slurred speech, a more primitive outlook on life, and, most harmful of all, a tendency towards physical violence, which in turn leads to raiding the villages of the humans that raid their villages and hurt their children.

As you can no doubt see, this vicious circle of violence and revenge must be stopped. Too many children have been forced to grow up without parents. Too many Orcs have to face a life without the possibility of higher learning. I say no more. From now on, we should all stand up and take the high road. In your moment of grieving, just remember this one thing and this one thing only. Stroke the beard. Everything will be fine.