[COMPLETED]Asulon Novella Competition Entries

[Neri 3590]

The original post got too long, so i'll post them here instead.

HylianMuffin; "Unnamed Story"

(Dedicated to Kurt Cobain, leader of Nirvana, February 20th, 1967 - April 5, 1994.)

The hills and mountains were pristine, the birds chirping and frogs croaking. Atop the mountain sat a layer of bright snow, melting in the fading sun. The boy watched from his vantage point on the sand on the shore as the ebb and flow of the water pushed the waves gently onto the shore. As the sun drifted downward and daylight faded slowly, he rose. As he turned, he could see the great valley beneath the mountains and the village within it. He saw the squirrels leaping from tree to tree, the tall, green grass sway in wind, and the clouds drift over him. The air was crisp and cold, but he took no heed. Starting to leave, he felt his toes sink into the balmy sand and the wind blow through his long, shaggy hair. The journey back was not long, but nevertheless, he was reluctant to leave his little hideaway. The sun was almost completely gone now, and the wands growing colder and faster, whipping through the shrubbery. The trees, stripped of their leaves, howled with the gales and the city's lanterns ignited, setting the valley ablaze with a dull glow. The boy scampered down the mountain, afraid to make the journey in full-fledged darkness. In the valley, the small village sat midst the snow. The moon rose, casting a silvery, opal light onto the valley and forest. The boy, arriving at the village turned, and watched the final rays rays of the sun die out, plunging his world into complete darkness. He ran back to his village to find it deserted; it was usually a boisterous, fun place. He decided that they must be out on a trip of some kind. he went to his home, rolled out his mattress and had a good night’s sleep. He awoke the next morning to the distant rumbling of a wagon. He jumped out his window, eager to see the harvests. But there would be no food for him. He saw only an orc driving the caravan. the caravan filled with bound and gagged villagers. Sprinting after it, he tried to keep up, but to no avail; the horses were far to fast. Determined to free them as it was only one orc, he searched for a way to catch up to the horses. He got to the mountaintop and stopped, thinking. He mumbled to himself for a minute and gazed at one of the hollowed out logs. A minute later, he was sitting at the bottom of the mountain, covered in snow, as he considered what he was thinking when he decided to launch himself sliding down a hill in a log. He stood up and shrugged it off; now the caravan was in sight and the horses beginning to tire. Running at top speed, he almost made it to the caravan, but it began to peak over the hill and gain momentum with which he could not catch up. Panting and regaining his breath, he slowly jogged down the hill, able to run no more. After a few more minutes of running it became apparent to him that something was wrong: orcs would never raid a city singularly and leave the buildings intact! As he thought, the land began to level out into a flat plain. Now he could begin to make out an encampment in the distance. he assumed that this was where they had been taken. Rushing faster than ever, he reached the camp within a number of minutes. The wagon was nowhere to be seen, but he heard cries and shrieks from below him. He begun to tear away at the dirt with his hands, but the task proved futile. Many of the tents stood on long poles with flat heads at the end, so he snatched one and began to dig. Within a matter of minutes, he was gazing down onto the prisoners, bound and gagged, with the orc standing in front of them, whispering something. He noiselessly slipped down onto the smooth floor and grabbed the orc from behind, trying to put him in an armlock. The orc grunted and retaliated with a swift blow to the arm, temporarily immobilizing it. From his pack, the orc pulled a rope and bound him to a pillar tightly, grinning. He braced himself for an oncoming attack and upon being hit, blacked out. When he awoke, he could not open his eyes or move, wondering “Am I dead?” The fact that he was not scared of death now shocked him. But he began to feel the excruciating pain in his arm and head, and knew he was alive. He attempted to open his eyes, and they burned in a bright light. He was blinded, and could hear a roaring which was his hearing coming back. As he opened them, he saw the villagers standing around him in a bright room covered in colorful paper. He heard little of what they had been saying, but when he opened his eyes fully, he heard a deafening roar as the townspeople yelled “Happy Birthday!”

Ar'Chaic Qee- "The Tavern."

A gust of wind blows into your eyes, and they burn. You hear a grouse noise, and a surge of pain shoots through your stomach. The wind blows again, and your eyes are irritated once more, but out from under the trees emerges a person with a hood. At first you think it is a man, so you say, “Hello sir,” but the reply is unexpectedly a woman’s voice. Your face turns red as an apple, and you develop an excuse, “I have bad eyesight. I’m sorry.”

The woman giggles a bit and says, “Why does everyone think I’m a man?”

You reply, “Maybe its your cloak.”

The woman removes her hood, and she has beautiful, flowing, silky, red hair; it blows about in the violent wind, and You ask “by any chance do you have any food?”

The woman grins and says, “You’re in luck, I own a tavern down the street that way, and she gestures her hand to the right.” You, being so weary and, hungry ask her to take you there, and she does.

After walking for a while, you come upon a wooden building standing in between two great oak trees. It is rectangular, with a bit of a curve in one corner, where the door is. You enter the great wooden door and heat, from the torches lighting the room, licks your face, you feel warm. A man standing behind the counter starring off into the distant farm fields.

The woman is still by your side, and she says, to the man, “Luke this man is in need of a hot meal”. There is no reply so she asks the man “Luke are you still with us?”

All of a sudden, the man blinks, and looks to us, “Oh yes sorry I am quite tired today I don’t know what has come over me.”

The woman says again, “This man is in need of a hot meal.”

And this time the guy behind the counter replies, “ok what can I get for you?”

You take out a sack full of coins and toss it on the countertop, making the coins rattle about, “I’ll have 8 loafs of bread and 4 pork chops please.” You sift through the money and give the woman 400 minas.

The woman looks at you, astonished, and says, “Oh my that is way to much you are a friend now and I will not have you paying that much.” She then proceeds to give you back 310 minas. The woman takes a key out from under the countertop and gives it to the man, “I forgot to give you this earlier”

The man goes downstairs and returns within a few minutes holding two bags one of which is labeled bread and the other pork. He tosses them on the bar, and you take them, and put them in your pocket. You then turn around and thank the woman by saying, “Thank you mam.” Emphasizing the word mam, and open the creaky wooden door. The cold is like a whip, it hits you, it is painful, and you wish you never had to leave The Tavern.

Spamshok/Issbaner - "The fall of Vormroth"

A thousand leagues from Aegis, and many hundred more from Asulon, over deserts ere great forests and across deep seas. Through old ruins, and great cities...You may find what was once the great duchy of Vormroth, a powerful land, under the control of the ruthless Til'Esof dukes for hundreds of years.

Now forty-three years ago, the duke and duchess had a child, a boy. Whom they called Issbaner, after one of the great heroes of Vormroth. At the age of five, he had become a strong, vigorous and energetic child. He had dirty blond hair, and deep brown, almost red eyes. with a skin tanned by the blasting suns of his lands. He was soon put to private tutoring, and while being reticent about it. He learned quickly, and well. Even if he preffered watching the Zlàraks, or Warriors of his fathers armies train. Or even taking long awalks escorted by his guardian, enjoying the feeling of freedom.

Once Issbaner turned ten, he had become a bright, intelligent boy, already possessing the ruthlessness needed, if you were to become a duke in these unforgiving lands. He was put to training with weapons, also keeping on with his educations, and learning the duties of a duke. And yet, his parents worried, for they saw that he carried little intrest in learning and finding out about the duties of a duke, preferring to talk to war veterans about distant lands, when he was not training with his now favourite weapon; the saber. While he possesssed neither the technique, nor the strength to defeat a warrior, he could easily beat any of his companions in his training. And his parents were relieved, for a child who was so skilled with the sword, coud only become a great duke, could he not?

And yet, when Issbaner turned fifteen, disease stuck down his father, prematurely naming him duke, to replace his dying father. And to add to the problems, unrest shook the lands in these days, and talk of rebellion was heard, talk of uprising agaisnt the harsh dukes. And yet, Issbaner ignored these signs, preffering to spend his time on long hunting trips with his friends, or parties, where he shamelessly flirted with the young ladies of the court. For rare was the lady who would claim she did not find him unnatractive, with his semi-long blond hair, and muscular body.

CHAPTER 2: REBELLION and EXILE

And when our young duke turned seventeen, the inevetible happened, following his uncaring and selfish leading of Vormroth, the citiens rebeled. Overhtrowing the armies in a matter of weeks by sheer weight of numbers, and marching on the capital, and the citadel where Issbaner, and the remains of the army still stood. Yet, Issbaner feared not, for this city was strong, and the rebels would smash themselves agaisnt the walls. Of course, this was not counting the massive defection of the army, who opened the gates, letting the rebels through them, and into the city, leaving the city ripe for pillage. And pillage they did, raping, killing and burning at will. But it was not to be the end of Issbaner, no, for with his closest friend, and his mother, they fought their way through an ancient tunnel, towards the outside of the city. Alas, on their way out, he and his mother got seperated, and he was never to see her again.

After an arduous and dangerous trip through old and abandonned taunnels, he escaped. But only three of his six friends came out with him...As he turned to look on last time upon the ruins of his beloved city, he felt, mixed with sadness, relief....for a weight had left his shoulders, and he was free...Suddenly, a black crow landed on his shoulder, it looked at him mournfully, and his heart filled with dread. For it was the omen, the legend...the black crow with hellish red eyes, the punisher of kings. Atlanar. The crow's claws dug deep into his shoulder, as it eyes seemed to glow brighter, "You have been judges guilty...Duke of Vormroth, you have failed your task" it's voice echoed in Issbaner's head. It gave a last cry, and flew off suddenly, leaving Issbaner staring at it with unseeing eyes, as his body slowly fell to the ground, soulless, his spirit taken by the punisher. He had failed hsi task, and Atlanar had seen him as not fit to continue living, as such.

Mist - "Mist's Adventure"

Mist awoke at the sound of screaming, Mist sprant out of bed, quickly opening the door,

He sprant outside of his room and outside, only to find Alys, Voak, Aylir and Adeon

sprinting for their lives out of the inn, Mist tried to yell out but he couldn't, he tried

to move, but he couldn't, his feet started to bind with dark magic, he looked at his feet

and he made a barrier around them, it forced the magic away and he quickly thought to

himself and he sprant off the edge of the inn, he fell at the ground and he shed a tear, he

painfully got up and saw that destruction was all around him, Mist then notcied something

at the corner of his eye, a Ghast, he sprant away from it, a magma bomb exploded behind him,

it propelled him 3 meters away, he got up and collapsed again, he had sprained his ankle, he

got up and ignored the sharp pain, the limped away, trying to get away from the ghast, another

magma bomb hurtled at his legs, this time he was blown 8 meters, he started bleeding all over

he got up only to see a slime creeping towards him, a lone traveller then wandered up to the

slime and punched it, the slime got angry and it swallowed him up in a gulp, blood exploded

from the slime, Mist started to limp weakly away from the slime, the slime soon got to Mist \

and the slime jumped, the slime was falling right towards Mist, Mist catapulted himself as far

away as he could from the slime, he sprant and sprant, ignoring all pain and sound, an arrow

then hit into his leg, it started to grow numb, he saw the portal, he looked all around him,

Mist's vision started to grow dark, he got up and limped to the portal, he swayed heavily,

he stumbled, so close, he thought, he then got a sudden boost of small energy, he ran with a

sway, and he then tumbled into the portal.

Mist awoke to see an endermen, it was carrying him, he didn't dared to look into it's eyes, the

endermen glared it's eyes and teeth at Mist with a menacing look, Mist looked down, the endermen

teleported away up in the air and dropped down again, he repeated this until it was knocked out

"Stupid Endermen" Mist said, he saw that it had an Ender Pearl next to it, he picked it up

and threw it as far away as he could, "Stupid Pearls, they don't to sh-" He was then flung

away, he then smashed into the wall and lost all his teeth, then a slime appeared, it came up to him and

Mist threw another Ender Pearl at it absent mindedly , the slime just ate it and then Mist was

dissolved into the slimes stomach

Kido122 - "A Tale of Family"

It was noon in the city of Salvus and a young girl no more than thirteen was standing in a ally next to a bakery, it was a small little bakery with a nice artistic sign waving in the wind and people crowded together in line and at tables, but this girl had no interest in the people, he interest were focused on the nice aroma of the fresh baked bread and how she was going to get it. “Ok, remember don’t get caught this time and I might get something in this stomach of mine tonight’ she said to herself. She sat there for little over an hour watching the movement of the guards and the people, timing was everything when it came to stealing. When the girl saw that the man at the counter was getting bread out for a customer she decided it was her best chance to go for it, she sprang to her feet, grabbed the bread was off, but a guard soon followed. She ran through ally way after ally way but the guard stilled followed. She was going around another corner when, as her luck would have it, she ran into another guard. “Hey” the guard shouted as he grabbed the girl by the arm. “What the hurr….Gabby? What did you do this time?”. “Hey Lorantine, sorry about running into you an all but I really got to go.” The girl said nervously. “Not so fast Gabby, where’d you get that loaf of bread in your hand there?” Lorantine said with an n humorous nut serious look. “Would you believe me if I said I found it on the street?” Gabby said trying to avoid Lorantine’s stare. “No I wouldn’t. This is the second time this week I caught you stealing, how would your parents feel if they…”. “My parents left me on my own when I was six, If they didn’t care enough to keep me then, they wouldn’t care about me taking a bread loaf to keep myself from starving!” Gabby said interrupting Loranantine. “Hey! What did I say before, I talk , then you talk and that’s not the point I was trying to get across, the point is stealing is stealing even if your dirt poor, now give me the bread an run off, if your caught stealing again you are going to be staying in a cell for a while.” Lorantine said letting go off Gabby’s arm. Gabby gave Lorantine a sincere look then ran off. Gabby was often in trouble since her parents abandoned her in the old land of Agies, after she came to this new land she lived in area of Salvus and watched the city grow, then she met Lorantine when she was running away from the guard after stealing a apple from one of the merchants, Lorantine saw that she was just a child trying to survive in the world, he helped her out a lot through the years and he was her only real parent figure, he tried his best to be a good parent figure to Gabby, but she was too much of a free spirit. Later that day Gabby was sitting upon a roof watching the sun set as she often did, tying to remember anything about her parents, but there memories slowly died out and vanished through the years.

The next morning Gabby awoke to a strange noise below her, she looked down at a boy that just ran into a can of trash. She climbed down the roof and went to the boy, “Are you ok?” she asked. “Um yea, listen I really have to go because….”. “HEY, THERE HE IS” a man shouted pointing to the boy, “He’s the one that just stole my chicken!”. Gabby looked at the boy and saw the worry in his eyes and reluctantly said “Listen, Fallow me” and then they ran off. They ran through the market crashing through stalls like a wild animal trying to find a way of a town. They ran through an open door and into some ones house, they ran to the roof and Gabby jumped to the roof of the house next door and looked behind her to see the boy standing there. “What are you doing? Come on they’ll catch us!” she said screaming at the boy. “I’m afraid of heights, I can’t jump that!” he said staring at the gap between the roofs. “You’re either jumping it or coming with me, or you’re going to jail alone!” she shouted angered at the boy. The boy backed up, and ran for it just making the jump. “Was that so hard?” Gabby said sarcastically, “now let’s go!” and with those words they were off. They kept running for hours and eventually scaled over the wall and ran into the forest, as they were running off they heard a guard yell “Next time we see you two here it will be your heads!”. They kept wondering through the woods for hours until they finally made camp in a clearing. After a few hours she finally ask they boy “What is your name?”. “Eragorn, yours?’ he asked. “I’m Gabby, so where do you come from?” asked Gabby. “I’m not Shure, I lost my parents when I was five or six and just been going where the world takes me, I been fending for myself for quite some time”, “Well I Shure wouldn’t have noticed with what happened in the city” said Gabby in a rude tone. “Hey I didn’t say I was good at fending for myself” Eragorn said jokingly. “Well get some sleep we need to head off in the morning”. In the morning when Gabby and Eragorn where getting ready to leave Gabby noticed something fall from the neck of Eragorn’s shirt. “Hey what is that?” Gabby asked. “What is what?” replied Eragorn, “That thing dangling from your shirt.” Eragorn looked down and held up a silver necklace inscribed with two large letters G an E. “Oh this, it’s the only thing I have left of my parents, helps me remember them, why?”. “It looks so… never mind, forget about it” said Gabby awkwardly. “Ok. Whatever” said Eragorn with a little smirk. They spent the next three years together traveling from city to city and town to town, but on the fourth year something happened that changed both their lives. They were in the city of Hanseti, planning on robing a rather large home. “Ok, you go in through the roof and I’ll go in through back, we get as much as we can and we leave.” Said Eragorn. “Right” replied Gabby. Soon they went on with their plan. Gabby went in through the roof and started to clear out the attic when suddenly there was a loud bang from downstairs, Gabby went downstairs and hid behind a door looking at a man staring at Eragorn and his wife on the stair well. Eragorn tried to run for it but the man caught him by the arm, “Wait!” he shouted. “Let go off me I’m not planning on going to jail!” Eragorn yelled. “I’ll let you go after you answer my question, agreed?”. “Agreed” said Eragorn hesitantly. “where’d you get that necklace?” asked the man. “Why, what is it to you?” replied Eragorn confused. “Just answer my question and you can go” said the man staring at Eragorn. “It was my parents long ago, I kept it with me ever since they abandoned me” Eragorn said still looking quite confused. “Kasey, we found him” he said nearly in tears. “what do you mean?” asked Eragorn. “We gave that to you when you were little, and we gave an identical one to your sister”. Eragorn just looked at the man and women confused. Then Gabby stepped out and said “I knew that was familiar, I had one when I was little but lost it in the ship on was on when it crashed” Gabby said nearly in tears. “My daughter and my son have returned? I can die right know a happy man” said the man with a tear falling from his cheek. “Why did you leave us?” asked Gabby. “My daughter, my son, forgive us for not finding you before, but we did not leave you” said the man. “Then what happened” said Eragorn. “It was right before we all moved to this land, Agies was in great turmoil, but you were children and wouldn’t have noticed, I was drafted into the military in the final battle for Agies, so I had to leave with the thought of my death coming soon, I told your mother to bring you two to the ships and to leave without me, When I found your mother again as she could do was weep, there was a crowd rushing aboard the boats and she lost you among the people, I tried searching for you two for two years, spent all my money trying to find you, but I had to give up wondering if you even still alive, but as fate would have it you found us instead and now where together” said the man in tears. “and that’s all that matters, that we are together and we shall never leave again” said the women. They all embraced each other, tears running down their faces, tears of joy and happiness.

Evelyn - "A short story."

The wind rattled the window panes, screaming to be let in. But Chirstina’s mother drowned out the howls of nature. Pacing up and down outside the door to the bedroom, Chirstina wondered if her mother was going to survive giving birth to her little sister and frowned at the thought of how her father would handle it. The minutes slowly turned into hours as Christina waited, almost falling asleep before the doors shook with the final scream of pain from her mother. Concerned and slightly curious, Christina cracked the door open slightly to peer inside. The sight that greeted her was of her mother collapsed in the bed, with her father and the doctor both whispering over the top of her. The doctor stepped back saying “I’m sorry, but she is beyond me. I don’t know any that could bring her back from the ‘deep sleep’. All that can be done for her is to leave her and hope for the best.” Christina’s dad spun around as he heard the door opening slightly but lets out a sighs as he sees his older daughter. Taking the bundle at the end of the bed he hands it to Christina. “Look after your sister Evelyn, we must see to your mother” he said in a rush before slamming the door again. Looking down at her new sister, Christina whispers to the baby “Evelyn… well looks like I have to look after you till mother is feeling better”.

As the days went by their mother never truly recovered, leaving Evelyn in the care most of the time of her big sister. Being away from home so often on business in other nations, Evelyn’s father wasn’t the one to teach her to feed her, to teach her to walk, to write but rather it was Christina who mothered her as she grew up. Time went by with little change until Evelyn started to grow more inquisitive about why her sister was looking after her more than her parents. Whenever Evelyn mustered enough courage to ask Christina ‘Why does Ma stay in bed?’ or ‘why isn’t Da home?’ Christina would ignore Evelyn’s questions and take her out to the woods nearby to take their minds off of their family. Every time they were to enter the forest, Christina would stop Evelyn on the outskirts of the trees and say “Now you know that you are never to come here without me. It is dangerous for little girls, definitely ones as pretty as you.”

This would bring Evelyn’s customary sigh and rolling her eyes as she always responded “Yes ‘Mother’ I know” before skipping off into the wood while she stuck her tongue out at her big sister. Christina feared the words in a way, how they seemed to hide secrets within their twisting branches. But, on the other hand she feared her inquisitive little sister’s questions about their family and knew that their adventures through the forest were the only things that kept her mind occupied. But as Evelyn’s mind grew sharper it became harder for Christina to keep her mind focused away from their family with simple games in the woods. But after every time Evelyn asked the gap between the next time grew, until after several weeks Christina let out a small sigh of relief hoping Evelyn had just accepted that their parents couldn’t be there for them.

Sitting around the fireplace together on a moonless night reading Christina’s love poems, Evelyn piped up “Hey Christina, we should show these to Ma”. Closing her book slowly, Christina got up slowly “Eve, we can’t bother Mother she is tired. How about we go out to the forest in the morning and-“. Evelyn stood up, slamming her own book shut with a snap that silenced Christina. “NO! I’m not stupid you know sister I know why we always go to the woods. Why can’t we just wake Ma up!” Evelyn shouted at Christina with pleading eyes. Christina slowly slid her book onto the shelf back into its place before saying “we can’t wake her Eve, just pack the basket and we can have a picnic tomorrow”. Her words fell on deaf ears though as Evelyn was already half way out the door into the night, crying as she ran for the forest. Turning to notice the door creak shut, Christina ran outside with a torch screaming desperately for her little sister to come back and away from the dark woods.

Crashing through the first line of shrubs a few seconds ahead of her sister, Evelyn ran on through the night for a couple of minutes before hiding behind a rather large oak just at the bottom of a slope. With her heart thumping Evelyn waited breathlessly for the telltale rustle and light of her sister as she ran past and over the hill calling out to Evelyn to come back. Smiling to herself in the dark Evelyn sat down to wait for her sister to come back the same way after noticing she had lost Evelyn in the dark before jumping out to scare her. Just as she settled down to wait; the heart stopping scream of Christina wrenched the air from across the other side of the bank of dirt. Evelyn jumped up with fright and scrabbled up the slope to look down at her a scene lit by Christina’s torch lying on the ground.

Crawling across the grass was her sister, drawing a bloody smear across the green stems from a gruesome gash across her thigh, the wound going all so deep that Evelyn could see the stark white of her sister’s bones. Frozen stiff with shock and fright, Evelyn stayed there at the top of the mound on all fours. Unable to move as she watched the pigman enter the light, dragging a very ancient, blood soaked blade behind it as it approached Christina. Turning onto her back, Christina whimpered and pleaded for the for the pigman to stop and leave her alone but was cut short as it wrenched one of her arms wide with its free hand and deftly sliced her arm off just above the elbow.

Evelyn was petrified, unable to look away as the monster utters an indistinguishable grunt as it flings the lifeless limb away from it, spraying the small clearing in a fine mist of red before stabbing its blade through Christina’s ribs trying to silence her new screams. The gurgling now coming from Christina seemed to attract another pigman as it enters the light from the other side, grunting to its companion in a similar way before stomping onto Christina’s still attached wrist, bringing forth a sickening crack as the bones snap like a twig under the weight of the monster causing Christina to scream louder in pain. Both the pigmen seemed to worker faster the more anguish that she showed, either out of frustration and annoyance or some sort of delight as they drew her closer to death.

They hacked and stabbed with their gleaming blades never truly scoring a fatal blow but sending blood and flesh all across the grass, her severed arm now hung from a low branch dripping blood onto the first pigman’s head. Seeming to both have become bored or irritated by the screaming and gurgling, they grunted at each other as if talking about what to do next. After a short moment one of the pigmen took a hold of her leg, grunting at the other as it wrapped its fingers around Christina’s still screaming head, before both tugging violently. The trees still seemed to hold the scream for Evelyn’s ears even after her sisters neck had stretched so far that no noise would ever leave it. Opening her mouth Evelyn tried to scream, but no noise came out as she looked down at the two monsters standing dumbly in what remained of her sister.

The next few seconds seem to just stand still for Evelyn, before she took one step back, crushing a pile of very crisp leaves. The little beady eyes of the two pigmen turned and stared at Evelyn, their flesh clinging to their faces, Evelyn staring at the pigmen, the pigmen staring at Evelyn. It went on, nothing happening till one of the monsters let out a sheik setting everyone into motion. The hulking monsters charged up the hill at Evelyn as she turned and pelted for the edge of the woods, not even noticing the branches wiping at her body as she ran or the tears streaming across both cheeks.

She kept running even after the crashing of the pigmen through the undergrowth had long died away into the distance. She ran straight out of the forest, covered in little scratches, she kept running past her house, past her neighbors, she didn’t stop till she saw the light of the local tavern and had burst through the door to find a group of Rangers and Wardens sitting around a table drinking, singing and rolling dice. One of the men turned to see Evelyn before remarking “My, look what we have here. Isn’t it a little past your bed time Mis?” bringing a burst of laughter from his comrades.

Catching her breathe and wiping away the remnants of her tears Evelyn quickly blurts out what happened to her sister in the woods pleading them to help her. “You expect us to bother going out there at this time of night? Ah it would be nothing but a waste of time” grumbled one of the men as he turns back to the dice on the table. The man sitting next to him slaps him on the shoulder “Hey maybe you should go help her, you know those piggy men usually have a nice amount of minas on them and by the looks of the dice you could do with whatever you can get” causing the rest of the men to burst into laughter and return to the game at hand. One of the men casually says over his shoulder to Evelyn “People constantly go missing in that forest, it’s a waste of our time you both shouldn’t have been in there in the first place”.

Trying desperately to gain their attention again Evelyn starts to shriek at the men causing one of them to pick her up and throw her out the door. Lying there in the mud as the rain slowly started to set in over then night sky, Evelyn cried until not a single tear would come to her. A few hours later found Evelyn standing in her mother’s doorway, dripping water all over the wooden floor as she watched her mother sleep peacefully. Running her hand slowly through her hair Evelyn whispered to herself “I’m sorry Mother. I’m so sorry. I… I just wanted us all to be happy together.” She turned away almost breaking into tears as she starts to walks out, walks past her room, past Christina’s room, past their books, past the families fence, past the local tavern, past the Laurelin gates, past everything she knew and into the waiting night.

Her mind was blank as she walked, one foot in front of the other, plodding along completely dead to the world around her. It wasn’t until the dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight hit Evelyn’s eye blinding her for several seconds as she tried to wipe the sleep and tears from her eyes. Looking around at her surroundings she found herself on a small trail through dense undergrowth but not so far from a main road that she figured was most likely Kings Road by the amount of activity she could hear. Covering her ears slightly from the clamor coming through the trees Evelyn stumbled off to find a place to rest. As the sun rose to its peak and started to fall, Evelyn finally surrendered to her weariness and collapsed between the roots of an oak tree.

She found no peace in her sleep though, the last seconds of Christina’s life playing over and over again as her body started to shiver from the chilled night. So lost in her nightmares Evelyn didn’t notice the two knights until one wrenched her around to peer at her in the torchlight. Looking at Evelyn’s frightened expression with a grin the knight holding her called out to his companion “Aye looks like we found our relief from fightin’ those damn green skins and fairies” causing the second knight to laugh as he helped his friend rip Evelyn from her resting place and send her sprawling onto the grass.

Too frightened to think about anything other than getting away from the two men, Evelyn started frantically crawling away on all fours before one of the men stamped down on her leg causing her to scream out in pain. Taking his armor off slowly as he walked up beside Evelyn, the other man looked down upon her and chuckled “Oh please don’t leave us little fairy, we are terribly weary from battlin’ up and down Kings Road and I could use a bit of a massage from your little delicate fingers.”

The comment by his friend caused the one standing on Evelyn’s leg to start laughing as he flipped her onto her back, clamping his hands down on her wrists before remarking over his shoulder “Well I’ll give those elf folk one thing. They sure can make some fine women for us, even if they fight like spooked rabbits.” Expecting his companion to burst into laughter again at his words the man holding Evelyn down stopped smiling as no reply came and turned to see what was wrong.

His friend was unable to answer because he was too preoccupied staring dumbly as his still twitching heart in the hands of a hooded figure next to him. No one seemed to be able to move as the hooded figure inspected the bloodied heart, he was taller than both of the knights and leant on a dark metallic staff with 3 prongs on the tip curved so slightly to resemble a mutilated claw, his face was completely hidden within the folds of the pitch black robes and his hands were gloved in tight leather. The spell that seemed to hold them all in place broke as the dark figure tossed bloody heart into a sack behind him with a squelch saying almost to himself “Well what do you know. A cruel man’s heart beats just the same as everyone elses.”

The man holding Evelyn down blinked and rubbed his eyes as his friend fell lifelessly to the ground, snapping to his senses he jumped up drawing his blade and charged at the mysterious man screaming unintelligible words at him as he ran. Sighing to himself, the hooded figure flipped his staff so that he was holding it like a javelin in a almost businesslike manner before launching it with such force as the charging knight. Watching in horror for the second time in the last few days, Evelyn screamed as the staff impacted on the knight’s chest, crumpling the plate mail and bursting out of his back, the shriveled remains of his heart grasped in the points of the staff tip.

Shaking his head as if at the stupidity of the two knights the hooded man pulled his staff the whole way through the crumpled body and plucked the heart from its tip “I think that’s a good days work, wouldn’t you agree M’lady?” he said looking at Evelyn, who was still rooted to the spot that the knights had stopped her. Unable to answer the horrid question Evelyn shut her eyes, trying to come to the peace that when she also had her heart ripped from her body, she would at least be going to be with Christina. As if reading her mind the man just shook his head “Now now there’s no need to be like that.

It would be hardly worth my time to kill you too.” He said as he plopped his newly acquired organ into his sack. Evelyn tried standing several times but her legs wouldn’t hold so she sat, controlling her mouth enough to ask “Thank you…. But wh-what are you?” her unintentional savior stopped as he started to walk off, turning to face Evelyn directly “Servant of Iblees at your service.” He said with a mocking bow. The scared look that was in Evelyn’s eyes died as it was replaced with hatred “You… you serve him? If it weren’t for that cursed ‘thing’ you call your master those bloody pigs would never have butchered my sister!” she screamed, trying to stand so she could charge him.

Cocking his head in bemusement, the man just chuckled “If a Guard tripped over and accidentally trampled your carelessly placed fruit that you are selling at the market. Do you blame the King governing the nation for not stopping the guard from falling, the clumsy guard for most likely drinking the night before, or yourself for obviously placing the fruit in harm’s way?” he said, smiling as he watched Evelyn stop and think about his words.

Continuing before Evelyn could even reply he said “you can’t blame Iblees for not being able to save a girl foolish enough to run in the way of his mindless soldiers. If anything you should be blaming the men who were too busy fighting amongst themselves to save her. These corrupt men are the reason why we have to fight, to rid the world of their evils.” They both just were motionless in the silence, Evelyn sitting there contemplating his words and the servant of Ibless just standing there with a small smile as he watched Evelyn. Finally he broke the silence, picking up his sack and saying as he turned to leave “You just think about it M’lady. One day you will come to understand it.” And he left, leaving Evelyn sitting on the blood soaked grass with two heartless bodies.

Will Forestin - "History Revealed"

Tying the knots in his boots, pulling on his bark-brown long coat, brushing the hair back behind his pointed ears, giving these ears a light tap, and standing, Bydal looks forward. A sudden urge had filled Bydal several days earlier. What this urge was? Well, with all the new people coming to Asulon from a so-called ‘Aegis’, he wanted to learn a little bit about the past to see if he could uncover a bit about this land. If he was going to be friends with the new people, he was going to need to learn a little bit about them. He remembered who had inspired this sudden inspiration.

Not but a month ago, Bydal was speaking to his closest, and frankly, only acquaintance.

“S-Say, Cedric.” Bydal said, slowly. He still hadn’t recovered from his stuttering problem, it appeared.

“Hm?” Cedric replied, with a drowsy expression glued to his face.

“I’d l-like to kn-know a little b-bit about y-your home,” Bydal said with intent. Having explained everything to Cedric previously, it was his turn to question.

“Huh? Oh, well, I guess ye could say we’ve come from somewhere across the sea.”

Chuckling at the word ‘ye,’ something Bydal could never get used to, no matter how many times he heard it, he asked once again, “The name?”

“Aegis,” Cedric replies with a darker expression.

“A-Anything else I sh-should know about it?” Bydal says, tilting his head to the right.

“Nope.”

Wow, Cedric has seemed really distant lately, Bydal thought. Maybe it’d make him feel better if I went to learn a little bit about his past, to make him feel better? Not to mention, that’d make other people like me more. . . Decided! Bydal’s eyes begin to glow. Bidding Cedric a farewell that was relatively unnoticed, He begins preparations for the event previously mentioned.

Returning to the prior setting, Bydal taps his feet slowly. He’d never been so nervous in his life. Face it, you’ll have tons of nerve racking experiences in life, you little baby. Mentally criticizing himself in a manner similar to that of an aggravated parent or a military officer, a quick thought comes to mind. This is all for the future of you, remember. Everyone’s going to think you’re just like them, and you’ll no longer be the abnormal Desert Elf foreigner that no one cares about. With a curt nod and a newly found energy flooding his body, Bydal begins walking.

Only to remember that he left his bag on the bench, which he promptly went to retrieve.

Now, in a new chapter of the story, settings shift. Not entirely understanding the area in which he should search, he does what anyone looking for knowledge would do. He enters a library. Cloud Temple’s not-so-secret underground hidden behind a not-so-hidden moving wall, to be specific. He asked the monks if he could use it to his leisure, and being the good-hearted people that they are, they replied in a very positive manner; “Why, yes you can.” Walking with purpose, Bydal approaches the hidden wall which just about everyone knew how to activate, and motions for the lever to be pulled. Having the wall mysteriously ‘disappear’, Bydal descends into the residence of the glowstone-lit knowledge facility.

Tiring, having read through the section on past history three times now, Bydal taps his fingers lightly upon the glass table he currently stood by. This tells me nothing of interest; I really want to blow the mind of these Aegeans. This won’t accomplish that; it’ll hardly accomplish anything! Slamming his hands on the table, much to the dismay of the monks above, Bydal proclaims, “This won’t get me anywhere! The only way I’ll discover anything is by adventuring, trying to discover a little bit about everyone! That’s what needs to be done!”

Shocked at the things he just said, without any stuttering in the slightest, the wall was opened and the self-proclaimed adventurer struts towards his goal in an embarrassing walk that he’s too positive to correct at the time being. He figures, from what he’s seen that the human settlements will have the most people to ask in them. Not necessarily the most intelligent, but. . . That can be evaded with enough effort.

Slamming the door to the bar behind him, he realized that the prior statement was anything but correct. It was nearly impossible to locate someone who actually knew something about what he was looking for. All they did was call him a blundering fool that knew nothing of his homeland. . . And inspiration sparked in Bydal. If I could somehow recover the Ancient Texts… Maybe I could uncover a little bit more about these things? I just want to uncover something about this. . . I want to understand too, you know. I’m a person, too! Puffing out his chest in the most masculine manner achievable, he snatched up his confiscated equipment from the Peacekeeper who had taken it upon his entrance; he walked down the gravel path towards the Eastern Sands he knew well.

A few moments after this, he found himself running from a band of thieves, as was the usual in the uncivilized lands of Asulon. Sighing, he wonders whether or not new people moving to this land had a positive outcome. There are the nice people, like Cedric, but then there are these guys. . . Sigh. I guess it’ll all be told in time. Burying this thought in his subconscious, Bydal continued sprinting towards his goal, hoping to lose the bandits eventually. If anything, I pray that I’ll never wind up to be one of these hooligans. Even if Cedric is fantastic, Aegeans are nothing but trouble. I’d hate to be one. Bydal continued his adventure in this negative state of mind.

Darkness coating the land as he walked it, his long coat sweeping at the sides of his legs, Bydal almost entered a state of deep thought, but realized his attitude would suffer should he do this. Instead, he focused on the scenery. The bright full moon shone down upon the land, preventing all from being plunged into never ending darkness, but it didn’t do too much for the brightness anyways. He still could barely see the silky sands that danced about underneath his feet when the slightest gust was applied, the sands that stacked into hills and dunes that one must climb over, the silky sands that made up his home. He was yet to find any ruins, but the entire trip wasn’t a total failure. Upon thorough reflection, Bydal reached a conclusion. I’m not going to find anything at all. Nothing will come my way; the easiest thing to do would be to just head home. I don’t need to run around all day looking for a land I don’t believe in. I’ll just leave. He started to retrace his steps, to return to Salvus, and to relax. Calm down.

Which is, of course, when he fell into the hole that had appeared behind him along with tons of swirling sand. Well, this is horrible. I think I’ll yell about it.

“THIIIIS IIIISSS REEEAAALLLLYYY BAAAAAAAAAAD!”

Now I’ve gone and made my throat sore. I’ll just have to mentally scream, I guess. He was kind of surprised with how nonchalant he could behave, being sucked into his doom and whatnot. My body just isn’t reacting right. I’m still going to die. Oh well. Smacking his head, he accepted fate as it drew him closer to his sand coffin.

His hand was pressed against his forehead, but his eyes locked shut. He wanted to open them, really did. His body wouldn’t allow this, though. It was as though the sand was all pressing down upon him with all of the weight of this desert combined.

Oh, wait. That might be what’s happening. He recalled the blotted out light above him as he fell into this forsaken pit, but light was shining through his eyelids. He wasn’t buried alive, conveniently. He tried to move his arm, and managed to barely waggle his index finger.

“Don’t move.”

The voice startled Bydal, and he quickly sat up, adrenaline overcoming the pain he presently felt. His eyelids fluttered open, to meet the face of an old human, with a long white beard growing down to cover the front of his tattered cloak. His balding head was coated in dirt, and the hair that should be the white-grey color of his beard was also brown. It appeared, the only thing this man groomed was his beard. What is it with people and beards? As soon as the thought entered Bydal’s conscious, he dismissed it. It’s more likely than not that this man just saved your life. Be grateful, and don’t question the man. He’s probably all dirty from saving you.

“You took quite the tumble there, Sand Elf. I thought you people were supposed to be the ‘Wind of the Desert,’ but turns out you’re just as slow as we regular men,” the man stated in a joking tone. The comment brought a pulsing to Bydal’s head. The pain was back, and he staggered due to its sudden reappearance. Responding to Bydal’s actions, the man laughed dryly. “Don’t worry, it’ll all stop soon. You don’t have any sand in your lungs, as far as I can tell, and I don’t see bone. You’ll be just fine in a minute.”

Nodding, despite the great pain felt in doing the action, Bydal dismissed the man’s comment and fell backwards, drifting into a much needed sleep. He awoke again, under the stares, not really remembering half of what had happened previously, I fell into a sandpit, met a man, and fell asleep again. That’s it, right? He soon heard the voice that confirmed these happenings. “Good morning, Sand Elf. Or should I say, good evening? You slept for a day straight; I’m surprised you could be so lazy.”

“What? I slept for that long?” Bydal said, smoothly. Hey!—No stutters! He thought.

“Didn’t just sleep; sat there like a log! I swear, you could be the laziest person I’ve seen in a while. Then again, you’re the first person I’ve seen in a while. I suppose I should thank you for blessing me with that opening up there. Surface air has never felt so nice.” Staring intently through the hole above him, the man patted his chin, causing his beard to shake a little.

Curiously, Bydal asked, “How do you know I’m a Sand Elf?” The man replied, “What else could you be? I don’t think you’d come here if you were anything else.” Swinging his head in a circle, still impressed with his ability to speak without flaws, Bydal spoke as if boasting this ability to himself. “So, you know quite a bit about me. Can I know a little bit about you? I’m Bydal, by the way. Bydal Rohine.”

Nodding his head, the man says, “The name’s Rockoler. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sand Elf Bydal.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Moaning, Bydal asked, “What just happened back there? I suddenly fell down here, wasn’t sure what happened.”

“Well, first things first, you blacked out for quite a while. I was sitting here, spraying water into your gullet for a few hours, and when you blacked out again, I had to do it s’more. You owe me quite a bit, young man.” The man replies without any strictness in his tune, almost positivity. His attitude was instantly lifting Bydal’s mood. “So, you, what’re you doing here? I know for one, that I live here, but I’m not so sure about you. What’s going on in that head of yours, to have you come along here?”

Looking distant, Bydal replies, “I’m trying to learn about the past.” Hearing his reply, the man grins.

“The past, eh? Well, you’ve found yourself one of the oldest men alive, and I can’t just let a little injured Sand Elf run around in this big bad desert looking for clues alone!” Slapping his knee, the old man stood up, slamming the floor with his large, dry oak cane. Bydal stood at once, as if being ordered to awake by a figure of authority.

The aura this man possesses, I can’t help but be shocked. It’s as if he’s a youth in an Elder’s body. I can’t imagine any of the cranky old men I’ve seen so far comparing to this soul.

“Well, what d’ya say?” The man says, snapping Bydal out of his thoughts.

“Oh, what was the question?”

“The question was, shall we begin? I know of quite the record base beneath the very spot we stand, and I’m sure with a big, strong elder like me, you won’t get hurt at all. I’ll defend you.” Laughing, the man starts walking, leaving Bydal red all the way into his pointed ears.

“I’ll have you know, I’ll be doing the defending, thank you! Hmph!” Bydal marched after Rockoler, swinging his arms fiercely, bringing his feet down violently. This only brightened Rockoler’s mood, to which he quickened his pace, and Bydal, who had planned to lightly shove the elder, floundered forward, falling down, averting a head injury, barely. “Gah!” He shouted, and began marching at a deliberate pace.

Approaching the deeper sections of the crypt, Rockoler spoke. “As you may or may not know, this is a growing station in which the scribes and I record just about everything. Of course, all the scribes are dead, but I’m still here.” This touched Bydal’s heart, making him sad for the man.

“Well, that’s kind of bad. . . Do you have anything in here on a place called ‘Aegis’?” Bydal asked, eyes shining.

Rockoler mustered a falsely offended face. “Why, that’s something in the world, isn’t it? Of course I have it!”

Sighing of relief, Bydal slumps his shoulders a little. “So, you’re going to share it with me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Ah, good. I have to extend my thanks to you, as I would never have been able to accomplish this goal without your assistance. Thanks.” Bydal bows, with no notice to Rockoler, who is facing the pathways ahead of them.

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

Bydal looked slightly shocked. “What?”

“We’ll just have to see how the collection is doing. In my old age, I’m afraid my organization is becoming a very . . . poor skill? Yes, let’s call it that.”

Bydal’s mood plummeted. He had been expecting a full documentary of exactly what he wanted, but it seemed this man was not entirely trustworthy. “Here we are,” The elder states, and opens what seems to be just a dusty wall. It’s truly a large door, leading into a large library. And, to define large, it’s not King’s-Castle large.

No, it’s larger.

It was as if someone formed a province underground and used it for the world’s largest library. It’d take nearly twenty towns to fill in this entire library. It was the largest collection Bydal had ever laid eyes on, short of one thing.

Well, there weren’t any books in the book cases.

Large stone shelves lined the walls of this large dome, but they had absolutely nothing in them. All dusty, nothing to find in this vacant library.

“Yes, the whole collection was stolen from us. It’s a shame, but I haven’t been able to reclaim any of it. I’d love to give you what you want to have, but I’m afraid that’s impossible without any of the books. I’m really sorry about it, but it’s going to have to be that way.” Looking sorrowful, Rockoler looked down, tearing up. Bydal couldn’t handle this.

“Who took the books, and where can I find them?” His words startled even himself. He hadn’t planned to say them, they just sort of came out.

“A band of Orcs, a few Dwarves, very few Humans. Why are we asking?” Before Bydal was even able to reply, his feet had carried him back to the chamber at the top of the crypt, where he had originally fallen in. He jumped towards the surface from the top of the large compilation of sand, and deftly climbed out of the hole. Rockoler, left behind, slowly remarked. . .

“And another friend marches to death. Just like the scribes.” Shaking his head, Rockoler retreats into the depths of the crypt.

Bydal hadn’t exactly thoroughly planned his retrieval of the collection. Everything would’ve gone just perfectly, if he hadn’t needed a whole caravan to take back all of the books. He had thought he would just sneak in, take the object, and exit, without having too much conflict, but upon laying eyes on the camp, he realized the fatal flaw to his plan.

A rough estimate of three hundred carriages, aligned in three rows of roughly one hundred, was stuffed to the brim with books. There were literally tons of books resting within those carriages. Bydal would need some other way of retrieving all the books. He began to thoroughly assess his position.

Well, conflict is out of the question. I’d be torn to a pulp faster than I could feel the pain of being torn to a pulp. I’m going to need someone else to do the fighting for me, because it’s obvious that stealth isn’t an option. . . Hmm. And with this, Bydal set his plan into motion.

“Here, little spiders, here!” swinging meat around on a stick, Bydal watched the whole field of spiders and their other undead friends move towards him, slowly. Bydal was overflowing with fear. He looked back over his shoulder, to realize that the camp was relatively close behind. One throw would achieve the goal that he was hoping to achieve, and with a whoosh, the meat was on its way. The spiders stopped moving at their deliberate pace and began rushing to eat the meat, in a feeding frenzy, if you will.

Upon seeing more meat, living meat, the spiders’ encouragement was only greatened. Bydal jumped out of the way of the rushing spiders, watching them rush into the camp, killing the band. Bydal felt a tinge of remorse in his heart, but knew what he had to do. He walked towards the carriages, and began tying them all together into one long strand of book-filled vehicles. After this was done, he slapped the horse he had tied to the lead carriage’s bottom, and they all set off running. Walking slowly, Bydal looked back on the frenzy he had just caused. He jumped onto the next carriage to come by, and buried his head in his hands.

Rockoler was thrilled to see all of his collection returned to him. After congratulating Bydal for his efforts, and loading the last of the books into the library, he beckoned Bydal over for a brief conversation.

“Sand Elf, I still owe you very much for what you have done for me.”

Looking up from his book, Bydal responds, “It was nothing. I needed to help a friend, and I needed this information myself. Thank you very much.”

Looking a smidge depressed, Rockoler looked up. “Yes, have you found everything you needed?” He smiled, falsely, and looked towards Bydal.

Closing his book, Bydal responded. “Finished reading just about everything I needed to. Why do you ask?” He sets the book down on the table, which Rockoler picks up.

“Go stand outside, Bydal,” he commanded.

Looking taken aback, Bydal goes to stand outside the door. Rockoler approaches three levers in the wall. “I never told you,” he says, pulling the first lever, “exactly why I wanted my collection back. Well,” he says, placing his hands firmly on the second one, “I’m sure you can see how much people want these kinds of things, and what they’ll do to,” he pulls down the second lever, “get them. Unfortunately, I can no longer protect them. . .” he says, placing his hands on the third level. “Well, what I’m trying to say is,” he firms his grip on the third lever, beginning to pull it down. “Farewell, Bydal Rohine, Sand Elf.”

As the third lever swings down, the most fantastic and horrifying display of explosions was shown to Bydal. Books were charred, and eventually eviscerated. Debris flew from all of the walls, as the entire place began to collapse. Seeing the crypt behind him also weakening, Bydal begins rushing towards the surface.

The shockwave had shaken his escape route, it appeared. He had no means of escaping this small little death trap. He hadn’t been this fearful before, when he had first fallen into this hole. Maybe it was because, this time, he was actually going to die. There was no way Bydal was actually going to escape this, was there? Of course not, I’m dead. His confidence wasn’t incredible, but his luck still managed to shine through.

As a large block of debris fell in front of Bydal, he jumped onto this and climbed out of the crypt. Sand flooded back into the crypt, creating a large sandpit. Bydal was too surprised to speak, even though there would be no one there for him to actually converse with. Bydal was truly shocked at this. He just blew up the entire library. . . Why? As if on cue, one of the horses neighed and kicked its hind legs towards one of the carriages, which contained a small, leather-bound book.

It read: “Bydal Rohine, Sand Elf, I am sorry that I have to bid you farewell so soon. It is very sudden, and quite the disappointment to me as well, but I beg you not to worry or ponder at all. The library was nothing but a place for people to grow bitter, just as I had over the years. I wasn’t going to suck more people into my silly fantasy. Meeting a Sand Elf was certainly a surprise, though. It made my death something I’m proud of. I destroyed that forsaken library, and met one of the ancient desert people. It was a fantastic experience, and my favorite, by far, experience in my declining health. I can’t imagine someone better to spend my last moments with.

Before you think, ‘Why’d you go and kill yourself?’ know that I was going to die of age eventually, anyways. No one lives forever, am I correct? I am just glad that you got the information you were seeking before it was destroyed. And, one last request.

I want this to be the first book added to your new collection. As a memoir from me. It’d do me some good to know that you started your own collection, right? If you’re not going to start your own, at least keep this book with you to remember me. Our time was short, but to me it is treasured, and I hope you know that, as my first friend in over fifty years, you made death something to not fear. I’m glad I met you, Bydal Rohine, Sand Elf.

~Rockoler~

Oh, I’d sign my last name if I remembered it, so do you mind if I do this?

~Rockoler Rohine~”

And, with that, the letter ended.

“R-Rockoler. . .” Bydal said, shocked at what he just said. He had stuttered.

And to think, after this whole adventure. . . Back to square one. Chuckling in memory of Rockoler, Bydal began to walk home.

K'orr <3 - "Three Goblins, Three Bandits."

We begin our story with three goblins in a field of luxorious snow, two of the goblins making prints and snow angels in the deep, cold snow, whilst the third sat against a tree trunk, staring at his compass. The cheerful goblins that were prancing about in the snow, were called Kungg and Jangle, whilst the third, slightly maturer goblin was called Jingle.

Jangle and Kungg were a year younger than Jingle, aged 48, as you may of guessed, this family of goblins matured at an extremely low speed. Jingle was still staring at his compass, confused, when a small group of bandits walked up to him. ''Ug, lat help Jingeh?'' Jingeh asked one of the bandits. In response the bandit took the compass and stuffed deep into his pocket, Kungg and Jangle were pretending to be wizards when they saw the bandits, they sprinted up to the bandits bravely and said ''Nub worreh, Jingeh, we wizards!'' The bandits to the left and right of Jingy grabbed the goblins with ease and forced some sort of liquid into their mouths, whilst the remaining bandit hit Jingy over the head with a shovel.

Inside a cage, made of steel and iron, the floor layered with feces and grime, Jingy was awaken by his brothers. ''Nub dead?'' they cried, but when they saw the Jingy open his eyelids, they proclaimed loudly in joy. Immediately Jingy peaked outside the bars of the cage and tried to think of some sort of escape route, but all Jingy could see was one of the bandits mending his shovel, a large plot of overgrown grass and a few meagre bushes. Jangle and Kungg yawned and sipped at the filthy water at the side of the cage. After five days the were out of food, out of water and out of hope, until they heard and rustling in the bushes, a group of dwarves and a human appeared from behind the bush.

''I don' see tae bandits, ye sure t'is is tae place, 'uman?'' said one of the larger dwarves.

''Yes, yes, aye. This is most definately the place where they are.'' promised the human.

Two of the bandits appeared, talking about the King of Ascella, Marius. There was no words spoken, just the sound of swords clanging and axes hitting shields. The dwarves were the superior by far, taking out the bandits with pure brute force, and the human freed all of the prisoners including the three goblins, the minute their cage door had been opened, Jingy rushed towards one of the dead bandits and searched him violently, it was obvious what he was looking for, and he found it.

''Jingeh compass, Jingeh compass!''

And so, the three brothers continued, walking east, only stopping to eat and sleep, while they were almost asleep one warm night, Jangle was thinking of the whole thing when he remembered that he thought of Kungg and him as wizards, and hit himself in the head, frustrated for not knocking the bandits out with their wands.

Huuki - "Koigan and the Dungeon."

Koigan Opened His Eyes and Yawned, he scratched his head...

Still dazzed by his earliness of Awakeness, he tried to look around and re-rubbed his eyes.

Koigan's Mouth fell below his chin, he re-rubbed his eyes for the third time, he was being carried on his own bed!

He hung of the bed clinging on tightly to see what wa carrieing him it was three large Endermen. Koigan went to shout but reliased that It would probably end badly.

Koigan let them keep walking getting slightly more paroniod at every step the Endermen took, suddenly Koigan seen a Dungeon enterance in the side of a mountain and looked shocked, he started shouting, but the Endermen ignored him.

They carried on walking, through the enterance. Koigan lay down his face could be scraping the rock of the ceiling right now, so he kept as low as possible.

Koigan lifted his head a little, He now had lots of head space, but was in a random room. Koigan was carried down some stairs and then the bed tipped, and Koigan fell through a Black Hole, surrounded with Ugly Green Circles.

Koigan screamed as he fell through and closed his eyes, but he opened them in a very unusual place. He looked around there were massive Dark Pillars.

The Endermen suddenly came up behind Koigan and lifted him High In the Air. They then teleported several times forward, Koigans stomach churned as he was teleported forward, everytime he felt like he would vomit.

The Endermen stopped their were more stairs dark and cold on Koigan's Feet.

They pushed him up the stairs and Koigan allowed them to, there was many Endermen around, all looking at him then disapearing to go behind him.

Koigan panted, and wiped his head as he reached the top of the Pillar he had to climb, suddenly a Dragon landed Next to Koigan!

The Dragon then Turned Around, and set alight something!

Then it turned back to Koigan...

And handed him some cooked Chicken?

The Endermen laughed, Koigan Looked confused, but chicken was his favourite so he quickly ate it and then looked around as the Endermen shrank.

Loads of Men, Dwarves and Elves got out of their Endermen costumes and Started laughing and Pointing at Koigan, The Dragon's stomach opened and out stepped several Dwarves who to had been wearing a Large Costume.

Koigan Gasped In Confusing, one Elf Moved forward showed him a Strange Dark Ball, which had a small bit of green light,

The Elf chucked it and suddenly he teleported, to where the ball landed...

Koigan still looked confused, then suddenly something fell over and Koigan was in normal day light sky and normal grass, and everything was light again.

Koigan looked even more confused and looked around, their were large cardboard rectangles lieing on the floor.

A Man walked up to Koigan and Laughed,

"Koigan You have been pranked... Wha... You Dont know who I Am? Ah..."

The Man pulled at his hair and his whole face came off, he too was wearing another mask.

It was Brevius! Koigan's Goblin Friend, but then he pulled his Hair again...

And his face came off again, another mask? He was know a Dwarf, he pulled it off again, now he was an Elf, he pulled it off again he was a Orc.

Then he pulled of his shoes and melted into the soil, so did everyone else as they laughed.

Koigan looked around in alarm, as people melted into the soil, a tree apeared were everyone was standing, then it died straight away and fell to the floor.

Then Stood up pulled off its twigs and dissapeared.

Koigan screamed, as He woke up in his bed... It was just a dream.

he scratched his head...

Still dazzed by his earliness of Awakeness, he tried to look around and re-rubbed his eyes.

Koigan's Mouth fell below his chin, he re-rubbed his eyes for the third time, he was being carried on his own bed!

Koigan screamed again, He looked under his bed he was being carried by Endermen!

Koigan Fainted and Re-Awoke loads of people were standing around him, Koigan had been sweating badly, and was shaking Wildy.

"Wow You Must of had a Horrible Dream Koigan"

Brevius Said!

Koigan Closed his Eye's...

Goliath - "The Hope of Asulon"

It was by a river, running through the golden hills and over the jagged rocks, swimming through were the trouts of the day and the leaves, floating above. The shack lie still, a damaged door gently knocking at the rythmn of the breeze, the old home of the elven family, once fond of the vast scenery, the gentle breeze, and the soft prayers which would fly by but once in a day. It was as the breeze turned shrill and the scene began to change, when the unforgiving world tore through.<br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">A day of the reckoning, a day when the fury of the elder, the devil shall blast this wretched world once and for all. The frantic rage of Iblees was all to be heard as the wind turned cold and the river stood still. The scenery was to be a mere memory as the cloaked soldiers of death stood in line, the soft clicking of such a wretch defining being, as the bones which displayed clicked in a movement, toughening up against the harsh knocking. Whispering echoed across the once golden fields, the life of the wheat sucked as they hung loosly, unable to prevent this, the world reaching tumoil.<br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">Darkness fell, but as many say, darkness does not reflect the evil within, ones choices reflects the way one is displayed. A glimmer of light flickered, ever so gently, as a cloaked being drifted to view, seen by many, wanted by one. The darkness was not caused in hate, not caused to set a scene which would set this world in horror, no, the darkness was the light sucked from this world all so quickly. Asulon, they tell their inferiors, the world we feel pain within is named Asulon, a lie indeed. How could a once nimble, smiled upon world, blessed by the guardian, Aeriel, turn to such a sickening mess. We are but all greedy monsters, destroying the resources of this world, and we complain about the destruction which is then caused.<br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">Removing a glistening dagger from its side, and a burst of rays, the god turned to its foe. A noble battle, the god Aeriel would face Iblees in a battle for freedom, once and for all. Within orcish bodies their souls had been blasted as they both rose to the skylines, the flickering of capes; the surroundings stood still, a sense of passion as man, woman and child watch the one who would lead them to victory, have one final battle.<br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">Both removing the glistening blades, carved to fit their dire needs, thunder hit down, the start, of a centry long battle. <br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">The nights were tiresome, flames filled cities, nothing but the sound of blades repelling one another, and the booming sound as another civillian reached the end. A day that the books would wish to ignore, a day which would finish off such a weak world, holding on, wishing for strength, day by frantic day. Iblees and the once banished soldiers escaped the chains from the nether, and as they loomed over a falling man, raising a hand which would set the fate of this world for good, a prayer was made. A promise which gave hope, the promise, of salvation. <br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">The bolts struck the god, life shattered there, the bolts bouncing to the skies, blasting throughout Asulon telling the people...<br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">Hope, was lost.<br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(255, 140, 0); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: center; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">Hitting the farmland, lie Aeriel, immortal, they said, but even the strongest shall meet an end. A flash, as the soul tore from the damaged body, drifting down, much like the optimism of the people who rest upon Asulon. Trapped in the chains of Iblees, forever more.

Thrym - "Saga of the Siblings Vol 1."

The four brothers, Malin, Horen, Krug, and Urguan, had been waging war on Iblees for years. The three brothers who accepted Iblees bemoaned the loss of their cities that had been smashed to ruins, forests that now were but fields of ash, and riches that could be seen among the enemy. The one who doubted, Krug now feels only anger. With the final battle insight, the brothers scheduled a meeting to plan a victory lest they be destroyed.

-City of Horen-

Two figures could be seen seated at a table, one looked stooped and aged, the other, tall, handsome, and filled with anger.

Krug could no longer stand the absence of Malin and Urguan. “Where are they?! Horen, you told me they would arrive far sooner than this. Now, pray tell brother, where are our siblings?” Horen looked up his eyes focusing on Krug.

“Um… I think Malin said something about having to move to one of the last forests and Urguan said something about a project, I think”, said Horen timidly, speaking from the shattered shell of what was once a great man.

“They better arrive soon” grumbled Krug. At that moment the great doors slammed open and in walked a tall bearded man carrying a large bundle. “About time you got here Urguan!” Urguan scowls at Krug.

“I’m sooooo sorry brudeh. I was only makin’ some tings ta ‘elp us fight Iblees but if ye don’ wan’ yer new weapon I’ll throw it away”, he said fixing a exasperated stare on Krug. Krug said nothing though his anger was obvious. Urguan nodded and opened his package. Inside were four mighty weapons, weapons forged on Urguan’s personal anvil. The weapons were of legendary power, formed from the purest gold of the Dwarven mines. Urguan first pulled out a large, double-bladed, war axe and threw it to Krug who caught it; a surprised and pleased look upon his face. The next thing he withdrew was a longsword, perfectly balanced and honed to an edge sharp enough to slice steel like butter. This he presented to his brother Horen. At that moment the door to the room was opened and Urguan merely tossed the golden hunting knives and the quiver of gold tipped arrows behind him knowing that Malin would catch them, and indeed it was Malin and he did catch them. Horen nodded his thanks while Krug practiced with his axe, getting a feel for it. Malin looked at the weapons he had just managed to catch with a mixed look of delight and surprise. As all this went on Urguan pulled forth his weapon, a war hammer heavy enough to bring blocks of marble to dust. “So, shall we destroy Iblees?”

Krug looked up at this, “And what exactly do you have in mind?” Urugan merely shrugged.

“I figured we could grab every warrior we ‘ave an’ jus’ give ‘im ‘ell basically.” Malin let out a most ungraceful snort of derision and Urguan fixed a stare on him. “An’ what exactly were ye thinkin’ tat was betta?”

“Well…” Malin began, “Nothing really.” And finally, Horen spoke.

“Then I guess we know what we are going to do.” And with that the four brothers departed to gather their armies for one last attempt, one last, desperate attempt to destroy Iblees.

-City of Crokorithas, Capitol of the Void-

A dark robed figure sat upon a majestic throne. Surrounding the throne was the black, empty, forever of the void. A small wind seems to stir past him and as it does his smiles. “Excellent!” the dark voice comes out as a whisper that one cannot escape, “they gather all their armies. I will destroy them in one stroke!” With that Iblees, the Dark-one, walked from the throne, a dark path appearing before him. As he walked along the silhouette of a door took place in front of him. The door opened without a single word and noiselessly Iblees strode into the inner chamber. Before him was a dark pool filled of a seemingly endless black substance. To his right a frame of obsidian swirled with life and a purple portal took form. From it strode a skeletal figure, robed in black and wielding a staff of gold. “Gather your armies my servant. Now is the time to strike.” The other figure bowed and began to walk back to the portal. “O, get some of the ender as well”, said Iblees gesturing toward the pool.

“It shall be done my lord”, then the figure strode through the portal. The army of the Undead was being gathered.

-A Final Battle, the Delivery of Curses-

Looking all around, Iblees watched as his army met with the combined might of the sibling’s army. To his delight they seemed to being pushed back but, as he watched, four figures carrying golden weapons approached. “So the fool-hardy children come to play with the fire.” Iblees released a laugh of contempt. “Come then, I will teach you that when you play with fire you get burned” Suddenly Krug released a war cry and charged at Iblees, Urguan on his heels. The axe and hammer strokes were mighty but the large blade of Iblees moved as fast as the lightning of his minions. As Horen joined the fray and the mighty arrows of Malin flashed in the sun it seemed that Iblees was being pushed back. It was then that the unthinkable happened. The mighty axe of Krug shattered. Krug, left with naught but his hands went in fists flying but the flames of Iblees scorched him. His body was left scarred, discolored an unnatural green. The fighting seemed to stop as Krug slumped but, as he rose, all could see the flames not only scorched his skin, but also had ignited his fury. The attack of the brothers upon Iblees and of their armies became tenfold more deadly and the dread army of the Undead was pushed back slowly.

Then, suddenly, a sound that can only be described as the embodiment of death was released and a group of tall jet black creatures appeared among the armies of the brothers. They teleported among the troops, confusing them, killing them, and, worse than all else, spreading great fear. No blades seemed to do any harm. No arrows seemed to find their mark. It was in that moment that salvation in the form of the brothers battle with Iblees arose.

Iblees had begun to fall back. The brothers were about to advance when the singing voice of a woman, more beautiful than anything any gathered there had heard before was heard. At its sound a small white light appeared beneath Iblees and his body began to smoke until he was nothing but an indistinct figure. At the same moment his undead hordes began to fade, their monsters burn, and glowing water cascade upon the dark creatures, the Endermen, and cause them to disintegrate. Curses flew from Iblees' lips as his body began to be pulled to the Void, not to live in his city but to be captured within. “Krug, your love of war, your disfigured skin, let it be on you children. Urguan, your kind be cursed with greed and as your courtesy is short so shall be your height! Malin, your children will be few, the forests will never be filled. Horen, none of what you wish to be accomplished shall be done in your sight as you life shall be short!” As the last words escaped his mouth he disappeared. The brothers and their armies stood, the curses having taken effect. Then Krug turned on his brothers, the curse upon him now set. His eyes burned with rage as he looked on them as he felt it was their fault for this curse. Finally, from his mouth, his speech also disfigured from the flame, came words that would be used by Orcs for the rest of time.

“Skahin pinkies!”

-Location Unknown-

A brother and a sister sat across from each other. Between them was a large 3-D map. Upon it little things could be seen moving that looked like people.

“This is a good game brother”, said the sister, her white dress shining.

“Yes, I’m quite enjoying it, Aeriel” the boy, his clothing dark, said. “Dad is really good at making things isn’t he?”

“Absolutely”, said Aeriel, nodding her head definitively. Then, both of the teenage looking heads turned as a door opened to the room.

“Enjoying the game?” said their father.

“O its great dad!” said the boy his eyes full of delight.

“I’m glad Iblees. Play nice you two.”

Two voices chorused together. “We will dad!” Then both sets of eyes returned to the board. Both Iblees and Aeriel thinking what their next move should be. How next they should set the events going.

“Well Ib’ I guess you’ll have to make a come back soon”, said Aeriel.

“Not a problem,” replied Iblees, a mischievous smile upon his lips, “I’ll be back soon. Trust me. My undead will give me tons of fun!”

“Maybe I should work on something to fight them back better…”

“Good luck! What are you going to do, walk up to a bunch of people as a mongoose?” Iblees said in a mocking voice.

“Why not!” said Aeriel shrugging.

And so the game went on. The first board was used and a new one was made, the pieces delivering themselves to it. The game continues and the world of Asulon awaits the first move.

Drakinroth (Brunhyldir) - "From Hell's Heart Thou See At Me"

Brunhyldir walked calmly out of the dusty sands of the orc capital, into the muddy swamps nearby, and squishy dirt under his green feet oozed as he tried to find a nice spot to sit. Just ahead and to the left was a small hill with a single, solitude tree on top.

Brunhyldir took a slow, cold breath. Surrounded by allies, surrounded by your people, but still set apart. This tree resembled him.

Brunhyldir made his way to the hill, sat cozily under the tree, and pulled his pack off of his back. Inside were nothing but a dozen melon slices and old memories.

He pulled out a small melon slice and bit into it. No taste... Well, of course, melons are mostly water. But there was no quality, no golden spark in this melon. Alas, he finished it and threw the remains into the swamp.

Brunhyldir took a long, deep breath through his nose. It was time to contemplate his life, and all the decisions he's ever made.

This name -- Brunhyldir. What it meant was many things. He was known around Asulon and Aegis, most notably, as "The Betrayer"; defiler of the Ascended race and sudden villain to mankind.

He pulled out another melon slice and bit into it. Still, no quality, no golden spark. He spat out a couple of white seeds into the dirt next to him.

As he threw the remains into the swamp, he thought of what else his name represented: the first Orc Ascended, the friendliest Orc, and the most noble Orc. These were the greatest feats and honors that he had ever been bestowed. Surely, some of Asulon had to remember him for this.

But his name, the person of Brunhyldir; so much history, so many things done that could not be erased. He himself carried a burden of thousands met, thousands slain, thousands befriended. All stored within this one soul, this one apparition of being; this one name.

Perhaps now was a time of rebirth; I time to get rid of the old Orc that dwelled inside this body and craft a newer, better one.

As he thought about this, he pulled another melon slice from his pack and took a bite.

Immediately, he felt something different. A quality in the taste, a golden spark on his tongue as he chewed it in his mouth. He threw the melon into the wilderness after eating it, and spat out a few seeds. What he saw puzzled him.

All of the seeds from the melon he had just eaten were black. A dozen of them, all different sizes and textures; but all of them black in color.

Brunhyldir had no idea what this meant. But that melon was different from the others. Perhaps, he thought, a new name, a different persona, a new character was exactly what I needed.

The brisk wind surrounding the orc suddenly changed direction.

If he could free the agonizing soul of the Past from his body, he could continue his life without impairments.

And suddenly, he felt a weight off of his shoulders. His heart skipped a beat, and his breath stuttered for a few moments. Feeling extremely odd, he pulled another melon from his pack quickly, and took a bite.

The seeds were black again.

He looked up at the lonely tree above him, and it seemed a bit warmer, a bit more round in spirit than before. A presence was now over him, and he himself felt that presence watching, listening intently over him.

A single droplet of water plopped onto Brunhyldir's head, rolled slowly down his face, and dripped softly on the mud under him.

A wide grin sprawled across his face. It was done. He could move on... whether it were an act of the spirits or hallucination, he felt "clean".

As Brunhyldir walked back to the orc capital, he thought of a new name. Something as formidable as his old one, but still with that hint of unique personality....

Drakinroth.

Content with his new name, Drakinroth entered the gates of the Orc capital.

What burned its image into his eyes changed his new life forever.

Huts, cacti, trees, burning within the mighty capital of the orcs. The roar of a thousand flames slashed at his ears, and his eyes became wet with emotion and heat.

Running deeper into the capital, staring at the burning memories, another orc ran past him.

The orc was on fire, flailing his arms about, attempting to douse himself. Drakinroth tried to help him, but it was too late. The orc lay on the ground, limp; the rest of him scorching away with the wind.

What had happened... An attack? A return of Undead? Was the death of Aegis just the beginning of the end of Asulon?

A hut crumbled down as Drakinroth ran to the Palace. Was the Rex dead? Or had they evacuated?

Running into the Palace, his head was almost caved in by a falling pillar. He jumped out of the way, into the Palace, and the cracked remains of the pillar collapsed and blocked the door behind him.

The Palace was bathing in a deep conflagration; chairs of orcish government members baking, but the Rex’s throne astonishingly untouched.

Thinking of how all of this was possible, Drakinroth suddenly felt a sharp, gruesome, stinging pain in the back of his neck. An orchestra seemed to play a legato chromatic scale as he turned around dramatically.

Behind him stood…

My alarm clock rang, waking me up abruptly.

Ugh. 6:00 AM. I rubbed my eyes, trying to get up off of my creaky mattress.

I slapped my clock, violently turning it off and knocking it down on the floor from my nightstand. Quickly pulling clothes on, I slumped out of my room and into the hallway.

Mornings. Such a terrible time of day. I had a dream about Lord of the Craft, and it has to be interrupted by the thought of six hours of school. Ugh.

I walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, and, with eyes half open, grabbed my toothbrush and applied a little icing of toothpaste.

I lazily rubbed the toothbrush against my mouth, and gazed at the mirror.

My heart stopped; the toothbrush fell from my hand and made a loud clank on the floor, my eyes opened wide.

Staring back at me in the mirror was an orc: Brunhyldir. A scar running down my right eye, an iron jaw in place of mine, my green skin looking neon under the artificial light.

[Neri 3590]

Some of these stories are so long I hit the content limit on my posts...!

Ever - "Always Watching"

Ingot did not dare show herself till Sylvia had laid her dainty head against her mother’s chest and her breathing had slowed to a steady, rhythmic pattern. When she was certain that her daughter was fast asleep, Ingot pushed through towards the makeshift camp, dragging a protesting Ever by his ale-stained collar. The duo stopped a good ten paces from the camp’s fire and made their residency on a half rotted tree trunk. “I hate when ya drag me ‘round like dat,” Ever remarked, his train of thought interrupted by a sudden hiccup. “Well I hate when you drink so bloody much, you slob!” Ingot snarled then let her demeanor soften as her eyes wandered over to the sleeping couple, her mate and child; Annabelle and Sylvia. She offered her grandfather a half-hearted apology which Ever accepted with an equally half-hearted shrug. He knew her words of anger carried about as much weight as her apologies – none.

They sat in silence for a long while, watching the fire’s glow cast shadows on the scenery around them. Ever took a long swig from oddly never-ending tankard then promptly teetered off of the log. Ingot hissed a warning of silence to the drunken dwarf then sent a wild jab towards his shoulder. “Oi, wush…wush that for?,” Ever stammered out as he dove for his precious tankard. “’Cause ya can’t seem ta keep yer damn self quiet. Always goin’ on ‘n on, blabbin’ ‘n blerbin’, bumpin’ ‘n trippin’ over this ‘n that!” She tried to keep her voice quiet but it was always such a challenge. Ingot stooped over her dust covered, drunken grandfather, grabbed his collar, and sat him back up on the log. “Dun wake ‘er up,” said Ingot, motioning towards Sylvia, “I dun want ‘er gettin’’ us ‘n trouble. Plus, she needs ‘er sleep, they’ve been travellin’ a lot as o’ late.”

Once again, granddaughter and grandfather found themselves staring at the sleeping pair a few steps away. Ingot was the first to break the silence. She cleared her throat then awkwardly adjusted her fur skirt, completely lacking anything to say. “Shay…’ow ‘bout I tell ya a shtory from tha good ol’ daysh?” Ever grinned wide then took another long swig of ale. Ingot only sighed in response. It was not that she did not enjoy her grandfather’s stories, it was just that she had heard each of them a handful of times. She could almost recite the tales perfectly alongside the drunk, slurred speech and all. The Drunk Dwarf waited for a moment then took a deep breath and began regaling with stories of old.

“It wush an average day, at leasht I would o’ called it average. I wush ‘eadin’ down to me mate’s place, ya know, that Will Foreshtin’ feller?”

“Yes granpapa, I tried ta kill the bastard.”

“Ya did? Hmm…Oh yesh, I remember now. Ya told me that afore.”

“’n you’ve told me this story a hundred times now, whut’s your point?”

“…Movin’ on. Sho, like I wush shayin’, I wush jusht ‘eadin’ on down to my mate Will’sh bar. Shwell plashe, ‘n tha middle o’ Al’khazar. Taps flowed like riversh, I tell ya!” He stopped to let out a hearty laugh and to take another mouthful of the alcohol.

“I had jusht gotten this marveloush mushic disc from a feshtival ‘n I had wanted ta see jusht whut it shounded like. I marched right in through the door, shlammed a handful o’ minash on the counter and ordered a round fer everyone ‘n tha room. Shoulda seen their facesh! Then we put popped that record ‘n one o’ dem player-thingiesh ‘n danced like we ‘ad jusht uncovered an entire vein o’ iron. Oh man, now THAT wush a hangover ta write ‘ome ‘bout.”

Another laugh, this time with an added knee slap. Ingot couldn’t help but grin this time around. “Never really understood whut ya saw ‘n ale, granpapa,” Ingot remarked, much to the dismay of Ever. “Well. Tashtes good, fer one. Alsho keepsh the nightmares 'way,” he continued, tapping his forehead gingerly. “Yer a fighter n’ I’ma drunk. Roundsh the family out nishely, I’d say.” The two exchanged toothy grins then fell silent.

“Tell me a bit about her, would ya? Sarah, I mean. Granma.” The two froze as Sylvia stirred and sat up. She waved groggily at the figures sitting on the log far away from the fire’s glow. Slowly her eyelids dropped back down, as did her head, back down to her mother’s protective chest. The two breathed a collective sigh then Ever continued.

“She wush a beautiful thing, far too preshioush for me, thash fer shure. She wush well read, liked to write ‘er own poetry. Wish I could remember shum o’ her works, I really do.” Sensing her grandfather’s hesitation of continuing, Ingot gently tapped him on the shoulder and sighed.

“How ‘bout ya tell ME a shtory, misshy?” Ingot turned to him and tilted her head, brow raised. She shrugged and sighed, stealing the mug out of her grandfather’s clumsy mitts easily. She took a deep drink then handed it back to him before starting.

“Ya saw that blade I used ta carry ‘round with me, right?”

“Tha gold ‘un?”

“Ya, that ‘un. Did ya know anything about it?”

Ever shook his head.

“It was forged by yer pal Arbrek. “

“It wush, wush it? How’sh ‘e doin’ nowadaysh?”

“I’m not sure. Anyways, he forged the blade out o’ this lot ‘o pure gold Annabelle gave me.” Her voice trailed off as she brought a hand up to her heart, mouth curling into a smile. “I named it Vanguard, fer I was to forever be her protector. She gave me the name, in fact.”

“You really love ‘er, dontcha?”

“More than you can imagine, you drunk bastard.”

“So…whut ‘appened to the shword?”

“It was destroyed; Didn’t ‘ave a need for it after what…happened.”

They agreed with a nod and passed the tankard between each other. “I’m gonna go look at them.” Ever would have protested normally, since Ingot was always on his case about being too loud, but he knew it best to allow her this every now and then.

She strode quietly towards mate and child, not wanting to take away what few hours of sleep they would get. In front of the fire she stood for a long while before bending over Annabelle. She planted a gentle kiss on her lips and traced a finger gently along her ashen cheeks. Turning to Sylvia, Ingot ran her fingers through her chestnut hair then tenderly kissed her forehead before retreating back to the log.

The two sat in quiet contemplation, staring up at the shining heavens for a long while. A lone cloud rolled in and a few droplets of rain began to fall from the nebulous intruder.

“We have to leave eventually, granddaughter o’ mine.” There was a twinge of sadness in the drunk’s words. Ingot remained silent, motionless, eyes transfixed on storm cloud. Suddenly, a bolt of thunder shot out from its black mass and struck an ancient oak on its side. The giant slowly began to topple. Ever and Ingot lay directly in its path. Neither moved.

The colossus crushed the two figures, or at least would have. The two peered down at trunk which passed through each of their ethereal bodies for a long while then sighed. Annabelle had already awoken and was reaching for her stave. Sylvia, on the other hand, sat with eyes transfixed on the massive oak and the two semi-transparent figures that stood "inside" of the trunk. Ingot wiped a tear from her eye, whispered something into Ever’s ear, and then the two dissipated in a cloud of sparkling dust, their spectral forms fading from the realm of the living.

Jens6851 - "A not so reoccurring History."

Fear for the unknown is sometimes... unnecessary..

She was soaked from the rain, cold in her heart...

Where was her father..

Suddenly she could hear someone trudging along at the road in the forrest, heavy steps.. Probably one of does.. Humanas..

Or.. Humans... Yes, Humans. Jena got onto her feet, and ranned over to the road, standing beside a tree.

From Jenas hide she could spot a man, he was around 40 years old, brown hair alittle blue cloth vest there nearly couldn't fit him..

He was a bit fat, looked nice and was whistling a happy tune. Before Jena even got the change to say anything he looked up randomly and saw her, his smile fadded and he frowned a bit:

"Are you alright?" Jena shook her head and looked down,

afraid to do anything wrong that mabye.. Would scare this Human away. He smiled encouraging and said with a calmy voice:"You wanna follow me to the tradeing city?" Jenas Father had always said to her

"Never believe strangers" Jena looked at him with child eyes, going into his mind, looking deeply at him. She couldn't see anything..

So she followed him.

Just because there's a road it dosen't mean you have to follow it..

Jena laughed and took a wisp of her hair away from her face

"Hmm.. You could say that, but if you wanna buy this fish..

You surely HAVE TO buy it for 10 minas..

It's fresh?" The halfling smiled warmly at her and took up some minas and putted them on the table "O-ka..y.."

He said,

took the fish and ranned away with blushing cheeks.

The Human which name was Targart walked over to her and putted a hand on her shoulder "Good job, your first customer!

How many minas did you get?" Jena looked at the minas at the table and began slowly to count them:" 1..6..10..14..20.. 20 Minas sir!" He smiled "Wasn't the price 10?" Jena nodded. She had lived with the human for ten years.

He was respecting her like she was his own daughter.

The last past months he had trained her in all sorts of things,

more advance farming and even how to use a sword. Jena already knew alot of these things he was trying to teach her,

but Jena kept it as a secret,

since Targart loved to teach her everything he knew, told storys about everything and everyone he knew. Once he was friend with a king

"The mighty Gralim." As he used to call him. But as the life had taught Jena "Nothing lasts forever."

A day Targart went sick,

he smiled to Jena and said "Go out there and get some minas, buy some melon. I know that you care about your melon alot." So she did... Targart where always fine, and as he said "It was just a temporary cold." Jena came back when the sun was going down and went upstairs to look at Targart. His face were pale and he coughed heavily as she walked into the room. He looked up and smiled weakly at her,

said coughing "C-ome over here sweety."

Jena walked over to him, sitting beside the bed "Im.. Im afraid i have to leave you,

but i will still stay in your heart... Right?" He coughed. "Your everything i got.. Remember that." He smiled and putted a finger at his own heart. Jena nodded and looked at him as he closed his eyes, smiling.

Not everyone is filled with joy, some are just.. way to easy to get.. employed?

Jena looked at the empty house, she had lived there for ten years, it was.. Her home.. Her and Targarts.. But.. At least the funeral had been beautiful, alot of the people he had been talking about, actually came.

She squeezed the keys in her hands alittle, looking around. At the big water clock on the wall, and at the painting of the city.

She sighed and threw the keys at a round table there were placed in the middle of the room. The money.. Were already hers so she just needed to find out where to go now.. "Before i leave.."

Jena nodded to herself and walked over to the bakery,

buying two small cakes

"One for me.. And.. One for.. Targart.." she sighed and walked over to the docks, sat down and looked at the water.

So peacefully as it is.. "Mabye i should go sail one day.." She wasen't really sure.. All of a sudden two boys sat down beside her. She looked surprised at them, both had ragged clothes and harsh faces, you could easily see that these two boys had lived on the street for quite along time:" What are you doing here?" The one on the right said with a strange accent "Your looking... Sad?" Jena looked at him, not really sure on what to do. She nodded a single time and looked at the water again "Do you want anything special, or are you just.." Jena thought a bit "An idiot?" He laughed and so did his friend:"Hmm.. You are sad, come i got an idea." Jena looked at them, looked at her sword and got onto her legs again...

Gaius Marius - "Sauros's Will (WIP)"

The footsteps indenting the snow was slowly inching back as the snow returned ever so slowly back to an untouched state. The foot steps of at least three men to be exact, were tracing along a hilly landscape wrought with the finest snow that feathered and laced together to give a smooth sheen to the rocky ground beneath and the ice being dragged along by the slowing of water droplets being pulled back by reins of the freezing air so that it may keep shape and add layer upon layer to the icicles that point downward from slates of shale overhanging from small bluffs. The surroundings were so difficult for the leather-burdened wayfarers to observe to ensure their safety due to the blinding reflection of the sun, yet heads hanging low were able to keep track of the path that was in front of them. The tallest of the three kept his upper lip, with tufts of facial hair, over his bottom lip to form a sort of siphon that he blew his heated exhalation atop his chin to keep it slightly warm, yet each time he would inhale, it would simply return to it's numb state. Whispering for the other two to keep firm grips upon their bardiches and to take quick looks upon the hilltops that arose on both sides of them for any sign of wolves.

'Wah't do we look fah' Sauros?' the youngest and shortest, Kipchak, acquires from the tallest man. With a reddened face, Sauros turns and smiles warmly against the deadening cold and responds, 'We look fah' tha' hawm of tha' Dervas, tha' Third Kind' and returns his face ahead as they slowly creep up a rolling hill, using the pole handles of their bardiches to stabilize them as they kick their feet into sheets of ice and provide footholds as they climb. With a doubtful look on his face, Kipchak further acquires, 'Haw' do yoo' ah'nustly cawm' acraws' infur'matiun' like this, we hav' been travul'in fah' a few days and nuthun' in sight?' and turns to the third man, Sartaq and looks into his eyes hoping to arouse Sartaq to help him attempt to persuade Sauros alongside him. Sartaq nods as Sauros begins to explain, 'Yoo' and I knaw' tha' awr' oral traditiuns' hav' been seamless and truthful, awr' ancesturs' wawld' nawt' seek to hav' tha' Subudai lost and blind and walk to awr' own deaths, they say tha' Dervas moved east of the original Hanseti settlement, I aum' intent to see if awr' Dervas brethren are alive, naw' silence yoo' bickering and keep walking, we will survive and we will find sawm'thin', Sauros ends it with butting the pole of his bardiche into the knee of Kipchak softly and laughs quickly so as to keep his warm exhaling fluidly continuing.

Upon reaching the crest of the hill, the three men bow their heads and slip open pouches made of sheered sheep skin filled with water and slush of freezing and melting ice and bring the openings onto their bottom lips and raise the gourds up and allow the fluids to enter their throats. Sauros lies down his gourd and sees in the distance an odd structure, a spiraling monument slightly hidden in the blowing snow showers, yet noticable as he squints his eye while putting his left hand over his eyes and brushed against his thick eyebrows. With his disfigured teeth gleaming as he smiles, Sauros takes his right hand, cups it rigidly, and smacks the back of the neck of Kipchak and pulls his head close to his as he crouches to meet Kipchak's height and points in the distance towards the odd structure. 'I aum no liar Kipchak, yoo' shawld' show me moor' respect after now yoo' fool' Sauros whispers tauntingly into Kipchak's ear and laughs with a relish of proving Kipchak his point. Sartaq bends his knees, resting his elbows upon his knees and calls out to Kipchak, 'Yoo' eldur' is always right Kipchak, may this day be proof to nevah' attempt ta' argue with yoo' older kin, learn a lessun' to pass dawn' to yoo' future chil'rin'.

With a revigorated urge, the three men begin to jog across the plains leading towards this monument. Upon nearing, the three men slow as they begin to slide on black ice, each man grabbing onto the other's arm and holding firm on their change of terrain and notice they are sliding towards a crevice that leads into a canyon reaching under this structure. Kipchak, being the last to begin the decline down the crevice, twists his body to face the ground that he was sliding down and threw his arm holding the bardiche into the ice...

Sinstrite - "Particles"

“Hold yer’ positions,” yelled the Dwarven King, Gurha Gemfighter. The mighty sounds of metal and flame rose into the midnight skies above the land of Arcania. Hundreds of thousands of hammer, axe and shield fluttered like hummingbirds not far above the cold mountain ground. Light glimmered off of armor like torchlight to gems on a rich and untainted mineral vein, untouched by mortal flesh. Battle was in the air, and every Dwarf had a smile on their face.

“We do this fer’ tha’ riches that’-r ready ta’ reward ta’night’s victors,” yelled Gemfighter. “Our gold lust-’s what drives us, but we also have our honor n’ pride ta’ hold!” The sounds of acceptance and agreement was heard far and loud by the army behind him as war shouts.

“Ta’night, we fight fer’ glory, riches an’ fame... When tha’ Orcs charge, we charge as well!”

~~~

“My King, your forces have been gathered and are awaiting orders. Five hundred divisions, each carrying one thousand soldiers. You have five generals ready to lead one hundred divisions each. For the generals, what do you ask of them, your majesty?”

Human King, Sheol Grimoire, took a slow stride along the ground with his steed, slowly back and forth. Man and horse as one being, sit perfectly still as far as his eyes could see. The moonlight bounced from hundreds of thousands of sword and shield, giving an impression they were imbued with a holy magic from the gods themselves for this night alone.

“Have my two generals closest to the Orcs and Dwarves keep their eyes focused on them for now, the Elves are not a threat at the moment. If they should see one or the other begin their assault, have them throw all of their division under command at them. The Elves will most likely wait to hit us all while our attention is away, so have the remaining three generals focus their attention on the Elves when the time comes. If we take out the intelligence, we take out the largest threat. That is my order, and it is final.”

Ahead, light had started to scatter on the mountain in the north distance. Through the fog, there could be seen a charge of Dwarves. Far off, in a mix of excitement and fear, could be heard the voice of a Human general ordering his divisions down the hill they were stationed on. “A-Attack!”

~~~

Elven King, Arche Sapphire, sit patiently in a meditative state high on the eastern mountain facing the other races. His wife, Queen Lunasu Ain’ Sapphire, stood behind him.

“Who do you think will be the first to go down the mountains,” asked Lunasu. Speaking without opening his eyes, Arche replied, “This is not a war. This is an attempt of genocide beyond what any race has ever though possible in Arcania. Even the Dwarves and Orcs are in fear of the possibility of seeing this through, deep inside, they are afraid. I know this.”

He slowly stood up and opened his eyes. “The first to do gown the mountains will not be the most confident, but the most fearful, and I suspect that all of the races will go at the same time.”

Lunasu hugged onto his side, looking up at him almost two heads taller than she, “Then why Arche, why must we involve ourselves in such a disaster waiting to happen? Should we not try to talk the other races out of this if what you speak is true?” A tear fell from her eye, gently gliding down her smooth white skin. As it hit the ground, a few flowers on the grass around her ever so slightly started to bloom.

Arche put his hand on her head, pulling her in closer to his body with the other, “If we do not involve ourselves here, away from our homeland, then survivors of tonight will only bring this to our home trees, around our children and our elders. You know as well as anyone else in the sages that I can not let that happen, my dear, ...our lands are sacred and holy. We end this here and we end it now.” Lunasu grabbed onto her husbands shirt and collapsed to the ground, shedding tears.

~~~

Muzgash Golfimbul, Orc Chieftain, devoured the last of the raw boar meat from his large and rough hands, licking his teeth, “Laz tliri biim amy novinimt yit fron tli otlir raqiz?”

*Has there been any movement from the other races?

He looked on, impatient. His first in command walked to his side, “Mo ny qleiftaem, but wi lavi our forqiz riajy to jiztroy tli otlir pumy raqiz at amy teni you wezl.”

*No my chieftain, but we have our forces ready to destroy the other puny races at any time you wish.

Muzgash Golfimbul walked around the campfire, somewhat deep in thought. He was without a doubt, one of the smartest Orcs that have lived in many years. His rise to power had no equal in competition. “Ef our forqiz ari riajy, tlim tliy zlahh ztay riajy, amj az zoom az you jitiqt novinimt fron amywliri, rihiazi ny zohjeirz to qauzi jiztruqteom om tli noumtaemz bihow.”

*If our forces are ready, then they shall stay ready, and as soon as you detect movement from anywhere, release my soldiers to cause destruction on the mountains below.

The first in command stepped close behind Muzgash and in a low voice, asked, “E kmow you lavi tli braemz of a lunam. E kmow you ari znart. Lowivir, wi ari mot ahh ztupej ietlir, ny qleiftaem. E tlemk lowivir, jo you haqk qouragi? Ari you zqarij to attaqk mow? Tli otlir Orqz ari womjiremg tlez tli zani az nyzihf, amj you kmow E zpiak tli trutl.”

*I know you have the brains of a human. I know you are smart. However, we are not all stupid either, my chieftain. I think however, do you lack courage? Are you scared to attack now? The other Orcs are wondering this the same as myself, and you know I speak the truth.

Muzgash Golfimbul let a low growl from his breath, and his teeth showed ever slightly larger. His brow grew lower and he curled his hand into a tight fist. Blood dripped from his knuckles. “Ny ferzt em qonnamj, pripari tli orjir to attaqk!"

*My first in command, prepare the order to attack!

~~~

Dwarves and Orcs charged down the mountains furiously. Humans charged in uniform lines and squares. Elven archers took aim high on the mountain without moving. The bottom of the mountain groups began to glow brighter, as the reflections of moonlight from metal and the light from torches grew ever closer to the center. It was only a short matter of time before they all clashed at the bottom where the mountains met. A Bard could be heard singing in the distance by a select few. He raised his tone high for all to hear, breaking his voice because he knew this would be his last time. His song was astonishingly sad,

“Many a’ time do they argue and bicker,

Those of Arcania, spite flowing quicker,

Hate from the politics grows ever thicker,

The evils inside them grow ever bigger,

This moon covered night, Arcanians fight,

This intense sight causes horrible fright,

Tears will be spilled and blood will be shed,

We weep for those close, fallen and dead,

We fight for our freedom and fight to be fed,

This night Arcania falls, my song has said,

A fine story to tell, this night sadly be not,

None shall be left honoring those we forgot.”

~~~

Metal clashes with metal, screeching like the wail of a Banshee. Surely, this was an omen that blood would spill like rainfall does for crops on the harvest moon. Orc and Dwarf meet in a wall of metal and flesh, blood spurting into the air. Sparks from the meeting of metal light up the night sky alongside the moon, and suddenly a picture of red hatred paints the scene. Slowly, the meeting line starts to rise, as the bodies are used to step on and gain height. Soon, they were climbing their fallen in order to fight.

While two Human divisions flanked each side of the Dwarf and Orc meeting space, three other divisions raced up the sides of the mountain that the Elves occupied. King Sapphire took a spot behind the first wave of archers, “Redirect your fire to the Humans, leave the Orcs and Dwarves be,” he yelled. The queen ran off into the forest, weeping still. The flowers that had started to bloom around Arche began to decay. The pedals soon fell to the ground.

From low on the foot of the mountains, Chieftain Muzgash Golfimbul had a second-long glimpse up the mountain in front of him. Muzgash Golfimbul and Arche Sapphire locked eyes, as far as they were from each other, they locked eyes. An eternity passed, but the change in the air around them could be felt by anyone, and it was an unsettling feeling.

~~~

“Your majesty, I think it may be best if you were to retreat from this battle. The generals will do a fine job, but with so many numbers around, the threat from assassination is very high. Might I suggest you take your leave?"

Sheol Grimoire looked at his advisor with a calm face, and took footing on the ground from his steed. He slowly walked around him, inspecting his battle armor and nodding in acceptance of the man before him, “Cebrius, do you know why we are here fighting tonight?”

“I do,” Cebrius replied, “We have exausted our resources along with the other races. In the Meeting of Kings last full moon, I had suggested that we form a search party with the other races for new and rich land, but you as well as the other kings had no interest in it. You all turned to war.”

“Indeed we have, Cebrius. Do you know why this war is finally happening, and what will come of it? If you know the answer, then I shall take my leave and let you handle the rest from here.”

Metal could be hard in the distance, scratching along other metal and bone, cries of pain and hate against the enemy alongside it. The moon had made the high point for the night and now started to settle on the tops of the mountains overhead. The light started to grow ever darker as if it were telling of the loss that all races were suffering. The air began to grow cold. Along with others hearts.

Cebrius stood tall, the thought of leading the generals without the King here was a warm one, as his fame around the nation would rise incredibly if the war was won tonight. “My King! We are to carve down the population of Arcania, leaving but a few of the strongest and smartest who have deserved surviving, to help lead Arcania into a new age of life!”

Sheol Grimoire slightly smiled. “Correct, Cebrius. If you would be so kind, I shall take my leave now. May the gods be with you in this hour of battle.” King Grimoire took his sword from his side and handed it over to Cebrius. He smiled, and put his hand on the back of his armor as a farewell. He then walked away from the position he had been at for the night, and hopped onto his armor-covered steed. Cebrius watched, as King Grimoire rode off into the distance on horseback. Cebrius looked at the ground, his jaw tight. “Maybe I should order a retreat, as this battle is pointless...” Something flashed though. A thought? A memory? Not sure what it was, it changed his mind though. Cebrius smiled, thinking of his fame and glory when the Humans won the war and led the future Arcania.

~~~

King Sapphire was half way behind his army now, shouting commands, and pushing himself further back. He kept looking behind him, attempting to spot where Lunasu had run off to. He thought to himself, “She has always been so at peace, she never did like the thought of me leading our race in a battle one day. Over one thousand years she has lived in purity, I guess tonight is a shock to her.” A hand grasped his shoulder.

Viuatos, his brother in law, stood beside of him. “Arche, go after Lunasu, my words will not reach her. I shall take over as commander in your absense, your voice is growing weaker with strain.”

Arche looked at Viuatos, and smiled, “I will have to thank you for centuries in this favor of yours, brother. I wish you the best in taking commander position, Lunasu will once again be at our sides, I shall go after her now.” Viuatos waved, arrows from archers flying just overhead. Arche ran off into the dark and fog-filled forest, his footsteps unheard over the air being broken with projectiles flying.

~~~

Muzgash Golfimbul continued to bark orders, only moving from a stand-still spot ever so slightly as to maneuver around dead corpses. “Wi miij nori offimzi, too nuql jifimzi ez takemg phaqi, et ez a jezlomor!”

*We need more offense, too much defense is taking place, it is a dishonor!

The first in command again found himself behind the chieftain, whispering into his ear, “Tlat waz a zuprini qonnamj, ny qleiftaem. Zurihy wetl tlez miw attetuji you zlahh gaem rizpiqt of ahh of tli Orqz umjir your qonnamj. Hiaj uz to veqtory.”

*That was a supreme command, my chieftain. Surely with this new attitude you shall gain respect of all of the Orcs under your command. Lead us to victory.

As Muzgash Golfimbul let the Orc inside of him get caught up in the fight, Dirz, kept whispering into his ear, causing Muzgash to lose himself even more to his bloodlust. Shortly, the first in command had let Muzgash be, lost in the battle. He had planted the seed of destruction.

Dirz slipped backwards. Slowly, he made his way to the camps on the mountain top. He looked down below, Orcs wildly thrashing about, using their battle-born bodies to inflict damage on any Dwarf and Human in their way. Some of the Dwarfs managed to use their heavy armor, thick bodies and massive weapons to withstand though, and push the Orcs back from time to time. Other Orcs, fell silently from arrows raining down in whistles from above. Seeing this, Muzgash Golfimbul grew enraged at the thought of losing, and himself, rushed into battle.

Dirz walked away, his smile giving a glow to his teeth from the setting moonlight over the mountaintops.

~~~

“Give it all ye got, ye better be doin-mer pushin’ than shovin’, boys!” Gemfighter kept tucking his beard into the inside of his chest armor as it continued to loosen and fall back out. For his kind, a beard was a Dwarves pride next to his battle strength and financial status. For a king though, it was much more than that - it represented his motivation and elder status among his people. Were he to lose his beard, he may lose respect among his race as their king.

In unison, the Dwarves sung a, “Hoo-ah! … Hoo-ah!” - Each beat as one, they had finally banded together in an effort to push back both Humans and Orcs on each side. “Hoo-ah!” They pushed forward, slowly gaining ground. Sword and axe swung over their heads, their shields raised high to stop the rain of heavy metal from their enemy. Some swings however, did make it in. Skulls opened up, throats opened up, blood spurted and eyes came out. They couldn’t keep this up forever. Gurha felt a hard tug on the bottom of his cranium.

“Hoo-...” The Dwarves around their king slowly came to a silent halt, eyes fixed on Gemfighter. He raised his head, facial hair falling, and blowing into the slight crisp breeze the night offered. His beard had been cut with a Human sword that managed to get past his shield, a clean cut, leaving him with a crooked and short leftover. Blood trickled from a tiny cut, the tip of the blade had barely opened skin on his throat, quite a close call.

Gurha Gemfighter looked at his fellow Dwarves, “We concern’aur-selves with this later, fa’ now, fight!” As they silently pushed, now losing ground, Gemfighter also, slowly, started to fall back in his lines, the shame overshadowing him. Before long, he rest in the back of the pushing lines, a dishonor for a Dwarven king to experience.

As the Dwarves continued to fight, motivation gone, and confusion around their lack of leadership, Gurha Gemfighter slowly dropped his diamond-decorated axe, and walked away from his fight, looking back to see the bloodshed from a new point of view. He shuddered in the cold the night offered him, his body had began to cool. He knew he would lose his Kingship, as well as most honor he had earned for himself. He took his leave, walking up the mountain.

Gemfighter spotted an Orc walking the same mountain path that he would soon enter himself.

~~~

The moon had now set, the light it offered no more on the battle taking place. Small signs of daybreak lay ahead, as the pitch black sky had developed a slight red tint, only visible if one were to pay close attention. Many cries of hundreds of thousands of fighters now silenced, only a handful remained fighting. In just one night, Arcania had managed to wipe most of it’s entirety out of existence.

Ahead, alone on the other side of the mountain, silence now in the air, and away from any smell of fresh blood, Gemfighter stalked the Orc he had spotted earlier, slowly approaching ever so silently.

“I thought you would have finished sooner, you were late, Gemfighter.” Dirz laughed to himself, speaking outside of Orc tongue.

“It’s quite hard to find a good way to announce your leave from a hefty battle as a Dwarf, you had the pleasure of maintaining a role other than a leader, so you had better watch your mouth,” Gemfighter replied, dropping the heavy armor that his body had carried for a full nights time. The armor hit the ground with a great sound, breaking the silence around them sharply.

“I see you two have finally finished, myself and Grimoire have been waiting here for hours,” Arche replied, sitting on a limb of a high tree overhead. Grimoire sit at the base of the tree, propped on some of the large roots with his hands behind his head, looking into the sky, studying what stars were still visible.

“I don’t mind the waiting, at times, moments like these can be peaceful here,” Grimoire replied, his voice sturdy and cold. “I guess it’s time we head back then, our mission is finished, no?” Grimoire pushed himself up, Arche landing beside of him from above. They walked towards Dirz and Gemfighter.

“You are most right, we should be rewarded greatly for our invested time and deeds tonight,” said Dirz, pulling a reagent from his pouch around his waist.

Arche took a knee to the ground, placing his hands onto the earth and mumbling a verse from an unheard language. The ground around the group slightly began to shake, two twin pillars of solid midnight stone, glimmering from what light hit it, rose before them and met in an arc at the top.

“I guess that is why you chose your name, Arche, for this mission, is it not? Quite the clever thing,” laughed Gemfighter, walking toward the twin pillars as he continued to look at Arche, now walking toward the pillars himself alongside Grimoire.

Dirz rubbed the reagent in his palms, kneeling at the base of where the midnight pillars had grown, and clapped, causing a spark of flame to rise. The flame spread around the midnight pillars and suddenly, the air around them warped and began to glimmer in a bright color of red blue and purple, all mixing into a evil aura of color.

The leaders and masterminds that had ran Arcania for years now walked into the middle of the pillars, vanishing from sight, and leaving no trace of their journey as the twin pillars shattered once the group had walked through. The only thing left as proof was a snow-like residue, a range of hues between red and blue floating into the air, glimmering purple as the particles themselves, soon vanished into the night.

Angelos_The_Innocent - "Rusen's Fall to Darkness"

His heart raced, what was this madness. For the second time that day his heart ached, yet this time it was so much stronger, as if his heart was literally ripped from his chest. That's when he felt the blade enter.

It started innocently to speak the truth, a hand on Genriel's shoulder, he had to apologize about his abrupt leaving the night before. His mind was out of focus, when was the last time he even saw his love, he couldn't remember anymore, he craved her attention yet he didn't know where she was. Writing to Genriel, he gently apologized, his book in one hand and his quill in the other. "I am so sorry about last nights events, my mind has just been... off" he wrote, showing her the words only to receive a smile and a nod "It's ok, really it is." The two stared for a while, not sure where else to go, before she blurted out the words "Did you hear? The mori caverns are collapsed... Well, the entrance at least." His heart stopped, a throbbing pain coming to fruition, terror filling his mind, fear in his body, dropping his book he dashes down the path.

Sprinting now with no signs of stopping as if his life depends on it, he has to see it with is own eyes. Turning the corners of the paths, he finally comes into view of it, her words were true, the entrance was destroyed, no hope of getting in or out. He fell to his knees, tears streaming from his eyes and yet only one thing on his mind, his love, where is she. Soon Genriel showed up, trying to comfort him, but unable to, he had to know. Sprinting more, he slid around each corner, running impossibly fast now as red overwhelmed his blue eyes. Coming soon to the pit, the only way he knew in.

Once more Genriel followed, unsure of what was happening, but so dedicated to helping Rusen. Staring into her eyes, trying to take comfort, he had no choice, he had to know. Diving off the cliff, he hit the water at the bottom of the Mori caves. Hoping, praying Genriel didn't follow, not wanting to risk her life, yet sure enough a splash echoed behind his ears, he could feel her eyes on his neck, knowing then and there he wasn't going to get rid of her.

Traveling quickly, they soon arrived at the house, the house of the Cressa'mtor, the home of his love, so secret to all but her and him, he stumbled inside, desperately looking for any sign of her safety, so foolish, not even thinking of his own. He found nothing but tears in his own eyes, would he ever see her again, he wondered, his heart aching so bad now, he could roll up and die, but he needed to know. That was when he ran into the Mori.

Near the fountain, at the entrance of the city, is where he spoke the word, so soft, so gentle, as if he actually felt something. "Where is Miri, WHERE IS SHE" He wrote frantically, looking into his eyes, needing to know, the single word destroying his entire life, shattering his heart dearly "Dead" he uttered. With his fist clenched, the death order came, Rusen was ready for death, yet he couldn't let them take Genriel. He threw a wild punch, nearly slicing his own throat to give her a chance to run, he fell to his knees, hoping, praying she gets out alive, only him and Izier now, he looks up at him, his life pointless now.

His heart raced, what was this madness. For the second time that day his heart ached, yet this time it was so much stronger, as if his heart was literally ripped from his chest. That's when he felt the blade enter. Coldly and slowly, slithering through his skin like a serpent, hitting the thing that once kept him alive, the thing that was now going to be the death of him, sliding into his heart. His breaths came short and fast, knowing he didn't have much time till his mortal body gave out, a blade to his heart so welcoming right now, so eager to accept his death, embracing it, anything to be with his love again. "Since the moment I met you, you have disgusted me Human" The Mori said, taking pleasure in his pain. Gasping for air, he fumbled for his book, writing, almost with a laugh "Like I needed that hopeless thing", throwing the book at the Mori and gripping the blade, ripping it from his chest as the Mori twisted it.

Quickly, he stumbled to his feet, impossible amounts of blood pouring from his chest, his blue eyes a dark red as he falls to his knees, unable to even stand, so weak now he grips his hand over his heart. Was this the end of his pathetic, short, disgusting life? His love was gone, his body was bleeding out, why was he even still alive, surely it was clear now this world wasn't for him, his existence beyond useless, the time of his death bringing complete serenity over him, no emotions, not love not hate, was on his heartless mind, as he fell over and bled to death. Or so it seemed.

Lost in his own body, his dreams so cold, so dark, so terrorizing, everything bad in his life rushed through his brain, all his pain, all his suffering, all the bad in all the people he met, cringing in pain from his past memories. Through all of this, a voice was to be heard, the voice of his own strength, the side of his strength he had fought his entire life to hide, to control, now proposing a sweet deal to him, so gentle as the words soothed the pain. "I offer you life, in exchange for freedom" it spoke, so softly, so sweetly, as if a thousand Aenguls sang together, the true voice of evil. Rusen, trapped in his own body, his own skin, his own mind and his own soul, so lost, so confused. Falling to his knees, he wondered, is this the afterlife, where is my love, the feeling almost distant to him, love, what is love, how many times had his heart been broken, the deal sounding so innocent, so worth it. What was he to do. He accepted the terms, not sure why, his life was pointless without her, he had no goals in this existence aside from get her love, and with that gone, why even bother. Yet he did, he gave freedom to the power, so anxious to consume his young body, the spark within him lit, no longer the beautiful blue, but now the blood red, his soul black, his heart no longer with him.

He awoke on the forest floor of Elandriel, his eyes a blood red, his hair a deep black, so changed, so natural, feeling, better than ever.

PART TWO:

It had been a few days, at the very least, though it had seem like decades. Not more than a week ago, Rusen had the face of a young child, innocent, carefree, madly in love, his face, his eyes, his hair and his attitude all pure. Things had changed. A stubble growing now on his worn face, his eyes a dark, deep, red, dark spots beneath them showing his lack of sleep. His hair was no longer the beautiful light brown, but now was a deep black, as smooth as ever, but so dark, so deep. His body had changed, he looked as if he aged 10 years, no longer the look of a boy, but of a hardened man. He couldn't live his life like this, he had already tried suicide, jumped from the trees in Elandriel, even tried poisoning himself. It wouldn't work.

The darkness in him grew each passing day his miserable life went on. Every moment, thinking of nothing but his love, his life, the only reason he remained human, gone now and himself still alive, his biggest nightmare. Why had he made the deal? Why had he given into the temptation of life, he could be seeing his love right now, and yet he was too weak, too weak to give up and die. His life was miserable. Soon, eyebrows were raised at him around the city, was this Rusen? The cheerful mute boy, so passionate and caring in all he did? How could he turn into this. Whispers behind his back, racial slurs from the wood elves he lived with. "I heard all humans are like this." "Yea, that's Rusen, rumor is he killed his love, or something like that, just stay away from him ok?" Filthy lies, rumors, gossip slipping behind his back, he knew from he beginning what they were saying, but he was so beyond caring at this point. He had no friends anymore, one of his few, a man named Kvothe, seemingly up and vanishing. Everyone knew him, yet he knew no one, once more dragged into sorrow, never having anyone to speak to, always being rejected. This was his childhood all over again.

For a moment in his life, Rusen had it all. He had a decent house, valuable possessions, and friends. Those meant nothing to him, the thing that did matter, the only thing that mattered to him, was his love, eternal and forever. He thought he had it all. What happens when you take all a man has, away from him? Take his friends, his possessions, his love, and even, his life. Rusen wasn't supposed to be alive, he had died for the second time in his life in the Mori caverns of Menorcress, only this time he didn't just lose his parents, he lost his heart. That, so they say, is why he vanished one morning, no warning, not notice, who was he to tell, he had no one, one day he was just gone.

For a while, he roamed the land, truly free. He didn't think twice as he pocketed goods along the way, break into a home here or there, steal some things, hurt some people. He embraced his darkness, though not nearly to a level which may be called evil. Not yet at least. Throughout all this, there was one thing he didn't lose though. His code. He still, despite all that had happened, retained it. Never hurt a female, never watch a female get hurt and do nothing about it, never allow any pain to occur to a female if at all avoidable. His code which may seem chivalrous, so much less than it seemed. It was truly brought back to life when he watched as a woman was being mugged by a pathetic thug, no older than his own age. Rusen did terrible things to the man, needless to say he ended his life, once upon a time he would have simply used words to defuse the situation, now he turned to violence. Rusen truly had changed, yet a significant part of him remained.

He headed to the mountains, his druid training still grasping him in those days, his atonement to nature still strong, he sought to meditate, nothing more, what happened was so much more, so life changing. Taking shelter in a abandoned monastery of sorts, high up in the mountains during a snow storm, he looked around, realizing it must have been left by the last civilization, strange writing on the walls, and ancient architecture surrounding him. He found comfort in the monastery, the snow storm lasting for days, keeping him pent up. Running low on food, he put his skill in farming to work, making a makeshift farm to sustain him as long as he needed to be there. He began meditating, on who he was, why he was alive, where his loved one was, and most importantly, where was he when she died, and why didn't he stop it? It was a hard time for him, a darkening time to say the least.

After a long day of meditation, he began to get frustrated, deciding finally to explore the old ruins of the sanctuary. After close inspection, he happened upon a old crypt, three times as old as the building her self, yet seemingly made by a similar race. Moss covered stone, and cobble lined the tunnels, a block of Netherack every 30 feet or so, to keep things lit. The passage seemed endless, as if he had been traveling for hours, mesmerized by the seemingly endless tunnels, he kept venturing forward, what seemed like hours only taking a few minutes in reality. Three alters lay in the wide open space, each with them, a ceremonial sword placed. Almost Katanna in nature, yet less curved, the three blades each had their own alter, inscribed under them, a story of their uses. The Iron one, a short story, the Diamond one, a medium story, and finally, the ritual gold sword, encrusted with jewels, a large story of its use.

Under the Iron one lay these words. "Used to slay the filthy, the peasants and the worthless scum, this Iron blade was used for those not worthy. War criminals, slaves, and farmers took this blade merrily."

Under the diamond one lay these words. "The average man deserves a quick death, for those worthy of it this diamond blade gave them a swift and painful death. It was used on good citizens whom made a bad mistake, often times taken to war and used then, it was used for the most basic of people, not scum, but not worthy of gold, the true middle man of blades, clean and sharp, men took this sword with fear."

Under the gold lay these words. "The gold, only to be used in most dire of situations, only on the most supreme of opponents. To be used on those you respect, or utterly fear at that, to be used in sacrifice and in ritual, to draw blood. This blade is more sharp than many a blade, it shall never become dull as long as it is used to draw the blood of those worthy. This blade hides a curse behind it. Legend says, if you use this blade on those not worthy, judge them wrong and pick this sword to end their life, it will shatter in your hands, never to be seen again. Choose wisely whom deserves this as their end. Men ran when they saw this blade."

Rusen, confused now yet in awe, gathered the three blades and their sheathes, leaving the tunnels. Soon, he fashioned as large sheath, capable of holding three independent sheathes at once, balanced perfectly to his leg. Three ancient blades, the judges and the executioners, strapped to his leg as if they belonged there. The Iron one, on the bottom, to be used against those unworthy, the filth. The diamond in the middle, to be used on the average man. Finally, the gold on top, to be used on those he respects, or fears. For the first time in nearly 10 years, Rusen made a change to his code, he added these things in there, swearing a oath that he will follow their code. These blades changed Rusen, and with change comes pain.

No longer could he call himself Rusen, could he be called Rusen, a pseudonym was what he needed now, something to represent his change, something different. He decided on symbology, Red Moon, to represent the Red Moon branded upon his back, something he once cherished, but now hides. Triblade, to represent the three blades that will always be by his side, a code he swears to uphold. Red Moon Triblade. Rusen was different, so much different now, his emotions was next to nothing, his heart had already been taken and stomped on, stabbed and made useless, he embraced the darkness now, making his way ever so slowly back to Elandriel, where he needed to meet someone, someone he was told could help him embrace the pain, the darkness.

Rio Coconuts - "The Day the Enders came."

God seeing iblees defeated, for now.. decided again, to send another test down to aegis

He sent enderdragons, a being made out of the void its self, taking a dark shape of it.. and he gave one egg, to krug, malin, Horen, and urguan, and the rest, to the wandering wizard, this itself would be a test of their longing for power, god said that with each egg, extreme power came, however to open it, one must use a inhumane amount of power to hatch it it

.

The descendants gazed, deciding whether it would be worth it, after iblees had gone, and their was now peace in the land, they started to ponder, wether it was worth it

The eggs, went to each of the capitals, one to alk'hazzar, one to laurelin, one to kal'urguan, and one to sanjaezal

.

The decendents spent long, long times, working to break open the eggs, telling only few others of them, as they wanted to keep the power to themselves.. however, it was not long before the rumor met the undead's ear, and so to, it met iblees, who took this chance, to plot with the eggs

The rumor died out from aegis, however to iblees, it was one of the things he strived for, during a undead attack on alk'hazzar, during Edmund sheffield's reign, a undead, snuck away, its task to find the egg.

Humans, with their short lives, chose not to hide their egg well, burried deep under the humans cathedral, it was found swiftly, and the egg, while the king was surrendering alk'hazzar to the undead, was sent away, back to the nether, and kept close to the nexus, where it was kept within a close contact of iblees

.

Years went by, as iblees sent more attacks, to aegis, and the capitals started to falter, and eggs where found, meanwhile, a part of his strength was kept, to break the mind of the egg, until one day, snap!, the egg gave up, and its mind was overcame by iblees

The egg, a blue egg, taking its colouring from the area around alk'hazzar, the sea, and the high skies, due to alk'hazzar being built on a mountain, started to fill with hatred, and its power started to seep into iblees, the power, was like 1/4 of iblees' power himself, and so, he grew stronger.

With this egg, he used its mind to find that off the other eggs, and he grew a even more precise guess

The dwarven egg fell next, a rocky, yet red, egg, kept in the lava moat around kal'urguans lake, threw in their by urguan's frustration of not being able to get the power... taken by the undead

With this egg, iblees grew once more, stronger, able to cast a miasma upon area, that he used upon alk'hazzar when it finally fell

.

Laurelin's egg, a green one, was the next to fell, hidden under the gauntlet itself, a portal was casted by the undead, in order to escape, however.. the wizard finally noticed what was happening

he got his eggs, and quickly ran to the temple, hoping he was safe in time, however.. he was wrong

Iblees casted a massive surge of power, that he and the dragons combined, all into the necromancer (Need his name) who's lightning then struck down the wizard, the power, not as strong as the wizard expected, fell down upon him like ten thousand boulders of stone, killing him, before he could react.

With this death, iblees became more relentless, his power was almost unstoppable, however he still needed one more egg.. the egg of sanjazeal, he was relentless for its power, so relentless, he did not even want to destroy the orc capital.. yet

.

The undead sneaked into sanjazeal, finding the egg burried lost, thousands of miles under the sand, if not for the other eggs and iblees' mind, combined, then they could not of found it.. however they did, and ferried the egg back to the nexus, within iblees' mind, the three eggs and iblees together, cracked the mind of the fourth, a sandy egg, taking the deserts sand into its colouring

However, with the other eggs, white eggs, iblees' had a easier time doing, the hatred inside of iblees turned the eggs from white, to black

.

With the eggs open, iblees gained their power, mental, magical and physical strength, all free to iblees' use.

The physical strength, iblees gave back, as he was not able to use it anyway.

The dragons, twisted, where released into aegis by iblees, except for the four dragons, from the eggs from each nation

.

These dragons where sacrificed, their power, doubling iblees', gave him the power to destroy the protection around the cloud temple, and so, the dragons where released to aegis, and the four others, died

The cloud temples battle raged on, however all dragons their to, where believed to off died, however no body knows what could of happened

Niko(Ratemenatorz59) - "In the Palms of Malinor"

Rin Emerges from his sleep, the wind blows as he takes his first breath, entering the world of Aegis at last. He was born to a second class family and grew under the auspices of his mother and brothers. His father was very ill and seemed pale. During Rin's childhood, he learned to write and read, but curiousity had overwhelmed him. At the date of is second birthday, he thought, "What is it called when I draw in air and blow it out?". His life seemed to have been filled with mysteries.. And horror. On the date of his 15th birthday, he had already learned to make fire. Rin loved nature, he admired the beauty around him.. The trees of Malinor.. He found it.. Amazing! But, at the age of 20, his mother and brother died, the fire burning the trees around him, he noticed the evil queen summoning the creatures of the dead. Who could possess such great power? The chaos spread around him.. But one shout had inspired him to fight the evils. It was Niko, a traveller, he had fought the evils along with other men... His brother was a minion of undead, them two.. Rivals forever. the day after his 30th birthday, chaos struck. A portal, merged into the gauntlet.. Aegis was yet to die out, into darkness.. And so, he and others journeyed to the land of Asulon, and in the forests of Elandriel he stood.. He was still in the arms of Malin.....

"And that's my story," Rin say's, putting his hands on the table. His friend asks him, "So, why did you say 'He' and 'Rin' instead of 'I'?"

Rin frowns, "I am foolish.. Damnit.". His friend chuckles, "Ha! You are, indeed!"

Fenraith - "Rise of the Terafil"

*Note: It is important to read “The Fall of the Terafil” on the Mori’Quessir Wiki page before reading this.*

In the beginning, there were six of us. We were not all equal, however, as one family had ruled over the rest. Despite my inheritance, I was born with the strong blue eyes that the Miiystras had been so well known for. My father had told me of the talk about them, and how rumors spread about mating outside of families. The slander soon fell out of popularity, mainly due to High Matriarch Veylna’s constant public speeches of how false the accusations were. I soon grew up and shared pride in how we, the Terafil family, conducted ourselves. We were the jack-of-all-trades workers, turning our blood and sweat into sweet pride and money. I worked alongside my brothers and sisters, reaping the benefits of our varied work.

It was around my age of 70 years young when I took notice of Matron Mother T'risskiira’s hatred towards the Miiystras. I was appalled that she would even dare speak out against them due to our troubled history with the High Matriarch. T’risskiira spoke of how false the Miiystras were, claiming that the Terafils were closer to our Goddess Nemiisae as compared to the Miiystras. Naturally, I began to follow T’rissiira’s ideas. The few weeks leading up to the attack on Palace, I helped coordinate and plan the forecoming slaughter. Our blacksmiths worked overtime, creating the swords and armor needed to overrun the filthy Miiystras. A few days before we were scheduled to attack, I was cleaning around the back of our facilities when I peered out the window and saw a fairly large wagon of covered goods appear. Soon, T’risskiira appeared and greeted the hooded strangers that delivered the package. I assumed that she had simply purchased weapons from an outside source, but then I saw that no payment was made to the deliverers. They were about to depart when I slowly opened the back door and stepped out to them.

“T’risskiira,” I said. “who are these men and what have they brought us?” I noticed that the hooded men darted away as quickly as possible, disappearing in the shadows. T’risskiira turned to me and held out her hand. “Come, child,” she said. “Take my hand, and let me have a word with you.” Faithfully, I joined her and she led me to a bench hidden away on one of the streets. She sat me down and proceeded to tell me of her plans that she kept away from the other Terafils. So long ago has this occured that I barely remember what was said, but the most notable topics were of Elrodon'Malachai and my father. I was told that I was to follow Elrodon’Malachai during our attack, and that he would be disguised as another Terafil. “So, Elrodon shares our same ideas of the High Matriarch?” I asked. She nodded and said, “My dear, he may be a Malachai by blood, but he is a Terafil in his heart.” I did not know what this meant until the day of the attack, when we waged war on Veylna to claim the holy title that we so deserved.

It was the final day when we Terafils were collecting our blades and tying the straps on our strong armor. I had just retrieved a sword when I heard T’risskiira call me over to her. I went, and, as I was walking to her, I noticed that behind her stood a strange looking man, one who did not seem to possess the common characteristic of a Terafil. T’risskiira took my hand and held it out to the man’s. He shook it, and she said, “This will be the man that you fight with today.” She gave me a questionable glance, and I immediately realized what she meant.

“Oh, yes,” I said, shaking my head, trying to rid myself of any evident suspicion.

T’risskiira walked to the center of the room and stood tall. “We march unto the unholy walls of the Palace today to become closer to Nemiisae and to rid it of the plague that calls itself Miiystra!” she yelled. A great uproar of battle cries came over the room, and the Terafils started marching out the great front doors and into the streets. I stuck close to Elrodon’Malachai, and he led me off to a side path around the palace while the other Terafils were attempted to breach the front doors.

“Where are we going?” I asked, nearly out of breath from running in the heavy armor.

“We must reach the living quarters of the palace before they have any chance to escape,” said Elrodon. I heard more cries behind us, and I turned to see that the other families had quickly amassed a small army and were hitting the Terafils from behind. Tears soon streamed down my face as I saw my brothers and sisters fall, but I quickly turned back to Elrodon.

“Here, boost off from my hands,” he said, holding out his hands to form a foothold. I ran at him, placing my foot in his hands and flying through the air from the momentum of him pushing up. I grabbed the ledge of the cold, stone wall and looked down to see that he grabbed onto the windowsill below me and started to push himself up to the ledge where I hung. He reached it, and knocked out the window above me.

“Climb in,” he said.

I grasped at the broken windowsill and my iron gloves protected me from the sharp glass that littered it. I hopped up and landed firmly on my feet only to hear Elrodon behind me. He soon took point, and I followed, unsure of where he was going. We went up a flight of stairs and through a few rooms before he stopped before a door. Down below, I could hear the battle cries of all of the families that warred on the ground floor.

Elrodon gave me a quick glance and kicked open the door. He ran in, sword drawn, and I followed closely in his wake. I entered the room and noticed that it housed many of the members of the Miiystra family, including a young girl who favored me in many ways. I saw her noticeable blue eyes, and I realized that her stature shared similarities to mine. I quickly dismissed her though, and assisted Elrodon in the slaughter. We slashed and stabbed at anyone who charged at us until all of the armed Miiystras were dispatched. All that was left were the younger children. Elrodon grabbed one by the collar and threw him at me.

“Cut him by his throat!” he yelled, grabbing another.

“A child..,” I thought to myself. My thoughts quickly vanished when I noticed Elrodon slit the throat of the one that he grabbed. The boy that I held started weeping, and I bent down to whisper in his ear.

“I am sorry for what is about to happen,” I said. “May Nemiisae be close with you.”

My blade slid quickly across his throat, and his lifeless body fell from my hands. Elrodon had finished off two of the last three children, and the only one left was the girl who looked very much like me.

“Take note of her hair length,” said Elrodon. He pulled the Miiystra girl up and stabbed her through the heart. She fell to the floor, a bloodied heap.

“Now,” said Elrodon. “We must escape.”

He led me out of the room and to the end of the long hallway. We reached the window and I realized what he was going to make me do.

“Oh, no, I’m not jumping,” I pleaded. He sighed and pointed outside.

“Water will save your fall, my girl,” he said.

“My girl?” I thought. I didn’t have long to ponder over it before he broke out the window and dove out of the house. I, not wanting to fall behind, instinctively did the same, landing in the cool waters below. We escaped the estate while the other families were slaughtering the Terafils. The next day, I learned of Veylna’s death as well as her most of her children’s deaths. Elrodon made me hide in a storage shack situated behind the Malachai residence, where he brought me food and water daily after he had his fill killing the Terafil. I hid there for a few weeks before he brought me out one day.

“There is much that you do not know,” he said. “Do you remember the girl’s hair length?”

I nodded, and held my finger up to where the Miiystra girl’s hair stopped. Elrodon quickly unsheathed his blade, pulled my hair back, and cut at the part that I marked.

He discarded the hair and pulled me aside. As I’ve said before, I do not remember the details of the conversation, but this talk between Elrodon and I changed the course of the Mori’Quessir.

He told me of the new High Matriarch, and how I was going to accompany him as he went to recognize the new leader. He gave me a robe to wear, and I walked behind him as he strode to the Palace.

We entered the Palace, and I looked up to see the new High Matriarch. The scowl on her face showed that she was displeased with Elrodon due to his lateness. I expected him to bow and recognize her, but instead he turned around to me and held out his hand.

I locked hands with him, and he brought me in front for the High Matriarch to see. He slowly pulled the hood off of my head, and backed away.

“One of the Miiystras saved, High Matriarch,” said Elrodon. I looked up to face the High Matriarch, and she saw my bold, blue eyes. I looked exactly like a Miiystra, and she was believing it. Elrodon left after that, and I was shown to my room where I would stay for the next hundred years or so, conducting myself in the business of the Miiystras.

I shall tell you of my history now. I am the child of High Matriarch Veylna and Elrodon’Malachai. Veylna gave birth to me, and, unwanting, cast me away to Elrodon. She had disowned and isolated me from her life. This is why she quickly stepped on the rumors of me being a Miiystra. Elrodon, furious, met with Matron Mother T’risskiira and devised a plan to purge the Miiystras. I was taken under the wing of a man appointed to be my father, and I grew up a Terafil.

The Terafil blood has not yet been vanquished. We still live, and Menorcress is in our hands. Wait for the day, unfaithful filth, and we shall strike again, ravishing your families and taking over what is rightfully ours.

[Neri 3590]

Ouity - "Ouity's Retribution"

Ouity sighed to himself as he walked down the streets of Al’Kazar, his deep blue cloak billowing in the wind. He stopped near the gates, musing quietly to himself. It’s been almost three months now… unbelievable… Three months since that horrible battle, that…

"Hello! We’re heeeere!” Thunder, lightning! Cloaked and armored men storming down from the Verge’s tall mountains! The Wardens across the valley were being cut to ribbons, clanging and screames lighting the dark air.

“Protect the Elves, rally to them!”

“For Aeriel!”

The cries of the Followers of Aeriel sent shivers down the spines of many a foe, as the warriors rushed to the aid of their neighbors in the Verge. Over the weak, bark crusted wall, charging into the small village the Wardens had created, and leaping into the fray with blood in their eyes. The enemy was without mercy. Lightning laced its way across the sky, booming down on any unfortunate enough to get in its way. The mysterious warriors bore down on their surprised prey, while the Followers of Aeriel, however noble their cause, were cut to ribbons.

Ouity charged in, his iron armor flashing in the faint light, and his diamond sword held ready as he raced to a group of zombies that were swarming an injured elf. Quickly loping off the head of one, he send three brutal stabs into the neck of another, and slashed a gruesome wound across the third’s stomach. All three collapsed, and Ouity only took a second to help up the injured stranger before leaping at the nearest foe. Their sword strokes were like lightning, a deadly game of tag that would end in death. The blades flickered across each other, clanging and rasping with the music of battle, and Ouity began to feel a cold sweat when he realized he and the other man were evenly matched. A huge burst of lightning suddenly blew Ouity off his feet, and he sailed backwards into the wall of a house, his armor denting against the wooden planks. The swordsman charged him, and Ouity ducked quickly, the foe’s blade sticking fast to the side of the house, as Ouity pivoted around the house and ran, trying to recover. The lightning still raining down around him, he took cover under a tree, gasping for air, and quickly patched his wounds. He watched as he worked, the houses were on fire, and the battle was still raging. He saw Maur valiantly fighting an enemy, and raced back in to help, though he lost his Orcish friend in the thick of the fight. A man still stood on the mountain, shouting their victory into the night, and Ouity made for the hill, but was quickly repelled by two other warriors, and forced to retreat before their blows. He backed up quickly before their onslaught, and then planted his feet firmly. He would not die like a coward, he would stand and fight!

Suddenly, thunder boomed again, and Ouity’s vision was bleached heavenly white, as lightning hit him point blank, sending him sailing over the edge of a ravine, into the water below.

The Elves hiding inside fished him out, his wounds dire, and his clothing and armor soaked. He returned to the surface as soon as he was able after being treated. The battle was over, and the town was deathly silent. His companions and the attackers were nowhere to be seen, but the bloodstains and broken weapons that littered the ground told the story for him.

Ouity never truly got over that battle, nor the feelings of fear and rage that had overcome him. He had never felt so afraid; he had never felt so angry. He prowled the streets of Al’Kazar, the cloak signifying his duties billowing about him. He would find out who had done this… He would!

Suddenly, a drawling voice reached his ear, and his hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword, his spine tingling, and his legs shaking slightly. He turned the corner, and spotted a man; tall, dark clothed, with hair white ass now, and piercing, cruel eyes, one the color of the night, and another blood red. Those eyes… they seemed to bore into his very being, his very soul. He had the presence of evil about him, and Ouity felt the corruption seeping off the man, his teeth clenching at the familiar feeling.

Ouity approached quickly, just as the man was speaking to another. “Yes, I am Lucas Black, what of it?”

Ouity uttered a single sentence. “Lucas Black. You were at the Verge.”

The man looked at him with slight confusion, and Ouity noticed his hand dip into the folds of his cloak. “Yes, I have been to the Verge, it was quite… entertaining.”

You killed my friends; you attacked the Wardens in cold blood. You are an enemy of the Followers of Aeriel. Lucas Black, I arrest you for dealings with the Undead, mass murder, and suspicion of other crimes.”

Lucas laughed then, and Ouity’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white on the hilt of his blade. The other man took the opportunity to take his leave, looking relieved.

“You cannot hope to defeat me! I must be on my way, if you value your life, you will not follow me.”

Ouity watched in slight amazement as the man waltzed through the gate, and out onto King’s Road, his anger inflamed. He quickly followed the man, and confronted him again on the road just outside. He ran out into the road, and looked around, shouting. “Lucas! Come and face me like a man!”

Ouity suddenly reeled around as Lucas’s reply came from an old oak tree; he stood atop a branch, his bow held ready. “Run away, FoA dog, run like you did at the Verge! I shall kill you as easily as your friends, you are nothing to me.”

Ouity’s face clenched again in anger, but he felt an acid worm of fear as well. This man had killed so many… who was he to have a chance against such a ruthless man? “I did NOT run!” Ouity shouted back, trying to swallow his misgivings. This was a fair fight, they were evenly matched. There would be no lightning here… he hoped.

Lucas laughed some more, his bow unwavering, and Ouity quickly grabbed his own from his pack. “The chaos of that place drew us in. We were drawn like bears to honey. Your friends died, and so shall you!”

“We will see when I stand over your corpse!” Ouity was now positively terrified, his knees shaking so bad, he felt he might collapse, though something in him remained firm, and he drew back the string of his bow smoothly, firing arrow after arrow into the tree. Lucas’s armor was dented by the broad arrows, and he returned fire, the missiles peppering Ouity’s armor.

Ouity quickly leapt behind a house, his armor severely battered, and he peeked around to see Lucas jumping from the high tree, hitting the ground and rolling to avoid injury. He quickly sprung up again. They drew their swords in unison, charging each other from across the road, and their swords clashing together with a loud clang. The weapons moved at blinding speed. Parry, thrust, backhand, overhand, stab, cut, all this happened in seconds as Ouity furiously battered at Lucas’s guard, his mind lost with terror and rage. Lucas’s foot came from nowhere, and with a loud “Oof!” Ouity was thrown back several feet, now on the defensive.

Lucas’s blade was like a tree falling, each cut wielded devastating power; the like Ouity had never felt. He could feel his guard crumbling, and quickly sent another cut in. Caught by surprise, Lucas leapt back, and ran, leaping behind the house. Ouity caught his breath. He was going to die here, on this road… His mind flashed back to the beautiful keep, to the Ascended helping heal his frayed mind, to the barracks he called, home, and to the friends he had come to serve with… Safen, Maur, Rattalyn… Shoi, Chrisdena… they were his family, they were his friends. His fear suddenly ceased as his mind flashed to all those he held dear, and the ideals on which he stood.

His mind clear, it registered to him that Lucas had not appeared again, and in an instant he knew what was happening. Ouity ran across the front of the house, to the opposite end, just as Lucas was reaching the same corner, having run around the large structure in an attempt to flank him. Ouity’s sword whipped out, catching Lucas through the chest, and the man sank to the ground, a look of surprise on his face. His breath slowly faded, and the square fell to silence. Ouity slowly lowered himself before his lifeless foe, taking the bloody, nicked diamond sword from his grasp. It showed evidence of many battles, and looked ready to fall apart. He would take it in proof of his victory.

Ouity stood up, casting one last look at his slain enemy, and then began to run in earnest. He could not accept that Lucas would just die. No, he would be back, the Undead were his friends, he would come back, he just knew… Ouity ran with new terror, suerly assassins and Undead minions lurked around every corner, ready to avenge their friend! Through Al’Kazar, down Crimson Road, Ouity did not rest until the gates of Aeriel’s Keep banged closed. His fear slowly ebbing, Ouity slid down the wall, his eyes closing, and his hand resting on the cut that slowly sapped the life from his body, a brutal swipe across the chest leaking blood down the front of his robes, to pool in the cool snow. Dimly, he saw people running to him, and he allowed himself to fade into the darkness, knowing that he too would not die, for he was among the Ascended.

Kayde North - "The Rebirth"

A young boy walked slowly, his face practically glowing with excitement as he made his way. Before him lay the Church of the Masked Goddess; the place where he would be tutored for the coming years. As the young boy made his way up the stairs to large oaken doors of the church, he couldn't help but gasp.

The floors were tiled, buffed and shined until one could almost see their reflection in it. Throughout the room was a small number of priests and priestesses praying to the Masked Goddess. Rows upon rows of benches greeted the small child's eyes as he walked down the aisle, staring every now and then at the stained glass window which depicted the history of the world, like the Fall of Aegis and the founding of Asulon, or they depicted major figures of their religion, like the Goddess of a Thousand Masks herself. In fact, at the very front of the church in perfect line of sight with the benches was a statue of the Goddess. The statue depicted her as a beautiful woman and a guardian, her face covered by a two-faced mask with her standing at the ready with shield and sword in hand. She bore upon her shield the symbol of her favored animal, the wolf, and an eye could be seen on the hilt of her sword. With the setting of the sun outside, a series of candles surrounding the statue were lit and the light from those candles gave the statue a warm, healthy glow. The boy couldn't help but think that it fit the Goddess well. It was then that an aging priest came to boy and tapped him on the shoulder. He spoke simply, though the tone he used spoke of an inner kindness the boy knew he need not fear. After the priest's short greeting, they made their way about the church as the priest began to show the boy what would be his home.

First, they went to the kitchens, located just downstairs of the main gathering area. Down here the walls were made of stone and wood, but it only gave the place a warm earthen look. As the priest and the boy entered the kitchen, a few things quickly became apparent. The first observation was that the kitchen was a very busy place. There were people going every which way! The second was that the food seemed heavenly. The smell of the foods almost brought tears to his face. Even though he was the son of merchant of no small means, he could not say honestly that the food he saw now was of the same sort he had with his family. The scariest observation he had yet made, however, was that this seemed to be where he would be expected to help out. All about the bustle of the kitchens boys and girls roamed, flitting from here to there. The niceness of the majority of their clothes indicated that most of them were here for tutoring as well and not because they were orphans.

Next, the old priest led the boy to the library. It was nearby the kitchens, only just around the corner. However, the kitchens may as well have disappeared as they made that short turn. The atmosphere of this room was completely different. A silence filled the room and the smallest of noises could be easily heard by all. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but the boy knew that he would grow used to this quiet and, indeed, may even long for it some day. Despite his awe at the change of the noise level, the boy managed to take in the rest of the room's features as well. The wall was covered in books, all organized by name. They seemed to be meticulously written and hand-bound within leather tomes before being placed on the giant oaken shelves of the library. Most were in good shape, but the boy could see that some had seen better days. One, in particular, caught his eye though he filed that away in his mind to check on later. The library itself, however, wasn't too large, but the shelves dominated the room with a certain...authority. Even with all of these shelves, the tables were littered with the occasional small pile of books and, from what the boy could tell, yet more were being worked on by scribes around the area. A gentle tap, and they were off yet again.

On and on the tour went, throughout which the boy saw all sort of rooms. Like the room where they would be taught, a small room with a few tables of varying size strewn with a few books of the sort he had seen in the library, or the chart room, a room filled with maps and coordinates all and connected at random with bits of string. Neither of these rooms, however, held the wonder that the final visit did. For his last tour, the old priest took him out behind the church to a small shrine to the Goddess. The nightime stars twinkled above by the full moon and a gentle breeze stirred the flower filled grass even as the trees surrounding him swayed slightly. Nearby, a small river ran through the grounds, filling the majestic scene with the noise of moving water. A few priests and priestesses were about, thinking or taking in the beautiful scene. The boy and the priest sat on a bench in view of the shrine and sat in companiable silence. After a while, the boy could no longer take the silence.

"Brother? Could you explain to me more about the Masked Goddess?" the boy asked, the shaking of his voice betraying his nervousness. The priest looked to him for a moment, before giving a thoughtful nod.

"What did you wish to know, child?"

"Well...who is she? My parents told me that in Aegis, the Creator of the Seven Skys was worshipped as the only god by many. When did the Goddess come about?"

The priest chuckled good naturedly at this.

"The Creator was most certainly the Creator of all in the begininning. After...who is to say? When the boats fled Aegis to Asulon, man, orc, dwarf and elf spread far and wide. Before the time of the Wandering, however, a young man named Ride is said to have come to Asulon for a Wandering of his own whe-"

"What was he looking for?" the boy questioned suddenly, intrigued. The priest gave a good natured smile before continuing.

"Ah, that isn't very well known. Some think that he may have had a warning from the Goddess, some think he was part of the Undead Rising, and still others think he was just lucky. Be that as it may, child, he did not come to Asulon for any sense of greed I am sure. Perhaps exploration and knowledge were his only pursuits. It's difficult to say. However, what we do know is that Ride made his way all throughout Asulon. Eventually he found a place of great power, a stone pillar that flowed outward from the ocean. It was not man-made-"

"Who made it then?" the boy broke in again. This time, the old priest laughed loudly.

"Careful young one, other Brothers might not be so forgiving of these interuptions. Though, I suppose in the time of youth patience is yet to be learned..." he gave a small sad sigh before chuckling once more. "Ah, listen to me. I'm the very picture of an old man, complaining of lost youth! Anyways, as far as the pillar is concerned, no one really knows. It was never learned and even those few magic users who have happened upon our isle have no way of knowing. No, this was one of those things that cannot be known. Ride perhaps understood the mystery of this pillar and he descended into it through a small passage in the stone. In the dark, his footing was unsure and he fell into a great hole! At the end of this hole was a spell of slowing and it was the only thing that saved him. Down here he found the first shrine to the Goddess, giant room depicting all one thousand of her faces along the walls. The floor was covered in an ancient script which our scholars continue to this day to understand. It was there that Ride built this church, this ancient temple of learning."

The boy listened intently this time, doing his best not to break in for other questions though the priest could tell it was hard on the boy. The boy nodded as the end came and he sat still for a moment as he absorbed the tale of the church's founding. Eventually, however, he had to ask what the scholars had managed to understand of the original shrine's history.

At this, the old priest hesitated. It was a hard story to grasp for the young, and it was harder yet to understand the true meaning behind it all. Eventually, however, the determined look on the child convinced the priest that perhaps it wouldn't be so wrong to tell the child and, so he did.

"From what we've learned so far, an ancient betrayal of the Goddesses' Sons led to the death of her favored son. This act led to their banishment from their immortal forms. The Goddess punished her sons in turn. The Dreamer she imprisoned deep under the earth, entrapped in his own world of sleep and wonder far from mortal eyes. The Wild was held within the earth, cursed for all eternity to feel and understand the woes of the whole world. The Lost was stripped of his name and knowledge, sent to wander the world as a stranger to all. The Mad, who hand took the Dead's life, was imprisoned within all of life itself, forever feeling the pains and deaths of all. Her last son was not truly punished as his death was the reason his brothers were banished. But neither could a god truly die, instead his being became one with that of the afterrealms. These Sons serve her even now, as they were meant to originally, as her eyes among the world. Without them, she would be as blind to us now as we were to her then."

The boy stood from his seat and moved a bit closer to the small shrine. It depicted the Goddess as a warrior. Her shield was gone now, and in her hands she held a huge bastard sword. At its hilt was the eye again, an eye the boy now knew stood for her eyes among the world, her cursed Sons. The priests and priestesses who had been milling about earlier had as of now left the area and the lights of the temple had gone out. The time had passed unnoticed as the sotry unfolded and entangled the boy and the priest. Slowly, the boy brushed his fingers over the eye on the sword. He shivered as he felt a tingle seem to spark through his mind.

"Why would she entrust her sons if they had betrayed her once?"

Behind him, he could almost feel the priest shrug.

"Who is to say why the gods do anything? Perhaps she felt that should they ever rebel her power would be sufficient."

The boy nodded. It did indeed sound like a godly thing to do.

"Does she not fear what she has done, brother? She banished her Sons to mortal bodies, but what if they could walk again? In those very bodies that bind them?" the child asked slowly.

"That's heresy, child!" The boy could hear the seriousness in the brother's voice, he could feel the righteous anger. "The chains that bind her cursed sons would never allow such a thing!"

The boy turned, his face twisted. His eyes showed madness, his eyes were of death. The priest could see that face would be the end of him and at last he understood.

"YOU!"

A snap. The priest's head bent sideways at an unnatural angle and speed before his whole body crumpled to the floor, dead. The boy shivered again and rose a hand to his head even as he used his other to wipe away the blood from his nose. He looked at it with a certain calmness as he sighed.

"Mortals are so fragile..."

HappyShackles - "A Scent of Avarice"

The scent of avarice hung in the air. A dark-robed, benevolent figure watched over it all. Everything fell apart. Everything was dying around Richard. The ashen ghostliness of his home began to break as he bled, his life spilling onto the cobblestone road that ran through their small Salvi town. He could see his father crying out for him from the grave that he now so swiftly approached, telling him to stay where he was. Richard refused, he would not live another moment. Corpses danced around his fallen form in his dazed vision, which soon turned black and tranquil. The man who stood above him gripped the hilt of a dagger with a terrible grin, the smile of a reaper and a master of fates. The smile of a mortal being that somehow in this moment seemed immortal with his ultimate triumph over not only the mind of the foolish farmhand who thought himself equal, but over his life.

The benevolent figure knew men like this. To this killer, everything was in a constant state of burning, and the sound and scent was all the same. The heat and speed of the fires was the only thing that differed, for a man who seeks immortality burns with the swiftness of ten thousand winds, a man like Richard burnt only as fast as his killer willed. The dangling silver moon seemed almost to shed tears that spread out into the blanket of night to the stars, where his mother looked down on him and his final friend; the blade that had pierced his throat.

The benevolent figure did nothing, though. He watched on. The killer knelt and wiped the knife on the terribly filthy shirt of the dead farmhand forcefully, cutting his shoulder by mistake and soaking Richard’s shoulder in even more of his life’s love. It came out so fast that it seemed as though his own blood was poison to him, and he was trying to force it out of himself in one last effort to survive. He was dead, though, and his gods knew this. There was one glorious moment of transparent self –obsession before his very final heartbeat, his very final thought, his very final breath. The verdant soul was invisible to the killer, but the creatures of the night could hear and see the beauty in the death of a pure soul.

The benevolent figure could hear footsteps. He cussed and rushed around the corner, attempting to remain out of sight. A guard with a torch running around the opposite corner, hearing the cry of agony from the final struggle of pure and corrupt, tripped on a stone, his torch flying forth and striking against a wooden home’s base. The torch, pressed in the space where the wood met the dirt, struck its violent flame against the home. The sleeping residents within, which were the only home in the entire street with people within it, heard nothing in their own illusion. The husband dreamed of his wife, and the wife dreamed of her husband’s brother. There was no purity in that house, and the holy fire struck up against it. The children within were already tainted by the horrid possession of evil that dwelled within the blackened souls of their teachers, their maestros.

The figure quickly poked his head back out from behind the corner to observe the scene, his eyes calm and observant. The Guard cussed out loud, screaming at the house as the fire slowly rose. There were sounds from the street over after a few seconds as a few people exited their homes to observe the terrible commotions of darkness and impure ancestral malediction. Their eyes must set on this scene, or their neighbor will tell someone and amaze them when they could have done so. The gossip will spread without them as the source. They will not be that pebble that drops into the farmhand’s blood and ripples through the city as words and pain. To not be so is unacceptable.

Then the chase. The figure ran gracefully away, the guard ran roughly, and the killer ran painfully, and the farmhand bled, as though he could still cling to life. There was a flash of light from the burning house in the killer’s malicious eyes as his leather boots crushed against the cobblestone and propelled him away from the scene in the opposite direction. The Guard was older, but strong, and knew the city very well. He broke off from the killer’s path and off in a perpendicular path.

The figure could see a peculiar thing as he stopped to rest, out of the way of the conflicting forces. A nighthawk soared overhead, observing the mindless assault of leather boots against the innocent stone. It plunged down, as the Guard seemed to finally be meeting the killer at an intersection. He was panting furiously; his heart was racing at the speed of a burst of sound. Everything ached, everything burned, and the killer knew this. The strong and old guard began to slow down, and met his fate. The killer flew out from the corner, anticipating the guard, and brought his knife into the guard’s leg at a low angle. There was a cry out, and the furious tool of aimless justice swung his mace. It met the killer’s foot, smashing it. The killer screamed out and tore the knife out of the guard’s leg furiously. The nighthawk’s gaze then broke from the new scene of arrogant self-righteousness and still the horrid blackness of the insane murderous gaze.

The figure was slowly making his way towards the scene of conflict, a hand on the hilt of his sword of great apathy, ready to defend those in need with his voiceless tone. The hawk down, striking at a rabbit that had ventured from its home for some unknown and now irrelevant reason. Now vigilance would dominate this terribly careless rodent as the hawk’s claws gripped tightly the body of the rabbit. It struggled as the hawk lunged itself upward into the sky, and it broke free. It fell and broke. Its body and it’s ignorance broke with yet another death in such a small night, irrelevant knight. The hawk had dropped the creature into a brush, and was unable to pinpoint it again, and so hovered to its original height. The killer was dead, his own throat slit as he had slit Richard’s throat of purity just moments ago. The perpetrator seemed to be one of the guards, a younger one who now cried over his bleeding father, who’s throat had also been slit before the boy had come. Corruption, purity, and justice lay dead in these hallowed streets. Ignorance was broken in the brush outside the city.

The figure rushed forward. There were tears and pain and blood and blackness. The spectators of brutality had not found the scene yet, and so the scene was alone except for the quiet footsteps that approached the boy slowly. An onyx-encrusted silver stave tapped on the stone slowly with every few steps. These steps were different. As before the steps of others were merciless and brutal, these steps kissed the cobblestone with the grace of a thousand angels and grey calm flooded the area around the figure. The sobbing son could not hear the gentle steps. The figure kneeled to the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. The boy then nodded with a gentle smile of acceptance. He slowly began to stand. Safety and love rang through his mind as he recalled his father and he knew that even in death, there was truth in loving.

Then he was dead. There was a brutal burst of infinite flame as the figure’s amazing strength threw his very arm through the entire torso of the young boy. The boy looked down as the blood sprayed across both the murderer and the just. He could see the fist of his own reaper. There was a slight, delayed scoff as the figure’s second hand burst forth with a scarlet strength and gripped the boy’s neck, slowly but surely rending his very head from his shoulders, blood splattering all about as the screams slowly stopped and the head was raised up by the benevolent figure. He threw the head hard, and it splattered against the cobblestone road into two pieces, the sickening snap spilling the brains and teeth and blood and bone of the young man’s skull. Love was the last to die.

Even the vigilant hawk starved because ignorance had broken, and it had disrupted the infinite harmony necessary for tranquility. The benevolent figure of Iblees with the stave tapped each of the bodies slowly, his footsteps splashing in the pools of life that surrounded the corpses. He nudged the smashed head with his foot and scoffed.

Iblees smiled gently at the body of the guard, then the murderer, then the boy. The deceptive calming benevolent greyness that resonated from him seemed to make the corpses smile. Now was the instance of his feigned rage that brought forth in this hidden instance as he deceived the four brothers of old. For even in a façade of calm kindness there was that brutal benevolence. For as that boy died for his father’s love so brutally and needlessly. As that rabbit fell from the claws of vigilance and broke. As that hawk starved from ignorance’s fragility. As the torch of self-righteousness burned down the home of sin. As the murderer brought a blade across purity’s throat and bled life across the stone. As the selfish audience of death cried out for more. As the zealous father brought his steel down on the movement of corruption and found a blade across his throat and in his leg. As the murderer met his end from the son of zealous justice. As benevolent apathy murdered, stood above it all, shook his head and laughed. Life would spin, and its web would meet all this and hold tight the bonds of our souls and our voices and our thoughts. It is our unbreakable links and our breakable hearts that holds the black and the white together so tight, and the grey and green will watch over that as it always has. As it always must.

Everblue2er101 - "Faith in Aeriel" (Provisional Name)

Josef stood at the very front of the boat, bouncing slightly as the bow plunged into each wave and sent cool spray across his face. The saltwater stung his cheeks, and the wind blew over his hair. It was still the early morning, and the way ahead was thickly obscured by mists. There was no way of telling just what lay ahead. A fitting metaphor, he thought, leaving behind the Verge for the great unknown by blindly going at full power. Behind the boat he could still hear seagulls. Once they got farther away from land their squawks would die away. Josef couldn’t wait to get away from the land of the Verge, from Aegis, from all the death and destruction and despair. He kept his back to the Verge, ignoring the sight of the shrinking land mass, the smell of the trees, the squawking of the gulls, all of the last signs of Aegis. He wanted to leave it behind, all of it. Even he, with faith in Aeriel that had lasted right to the very end, now wondered why their homeland had been left to ruin, what they were being forced to accept and what they were being forced to forget as they moved on.

Behind him, the boat bustled with activity. The top decks were crammed with refugees, who all seemed to be shouting. He didn’t take note of the chaos now, but earlier he had walked among them, looking around with interest. He had seen men and women, parents and children, all races represented. Just swarms of people, piles of supplies. The crowd desperately clutched to what they had saved from Aegis, remnants of their old lives. Some had essentials, food and weapons and water. But others carried chairs, paintings, sacks of... things. Josef shook his head. It was time to move on; to lose what had no value other than sentimentality. He had brought only the bare essentials... which, to him, included the book in his pocket. Still, he had grinned at some of the sights, like the woman selling apples from the large sack over her shoulders, and the children playing with the toys that had been brought aboard. He, like all others on board, had given them plenty of room to play on the decks.

Josef was suddenly splashed in the face by a higher wave than the rest that shook him out of his trance. Sputtering, he wiped away the salty water. The mists ahead were clearing, and he thought that the waves were bigger than they had been. He was pretty sure that they were far away from land now, and turned to view the crowd. They seemed to grow even louder as he did.

"... back here, Hikaru!"

"... can't believe this. I should have gone on the Salvus boat..."

"… be on the seas for a while. I'll get you a bucket..."

The noise was oppressive, and the rising sun was rapidly heating the ship. Josef could feel a headache coming on. He slowly made his way down the deck, shoving his way past people, pushing through the crowd. Few took notice, but some smiled, nodded or said hello. He returned the gestures, enjoying the notoriety of his position, however slight. He headed past the various Renatus officials who were trying to get the crowd below decks, but no one wanted to go into the cramped hold. He had tried to help out earlier before giving it up as a lost cause. Upon reaching the door to the officer’s quarters at the stern of the ship he pulled out his keys and entered.

It was a different world. The interior was cool and slightly dark, lit by intermittent torches casting soft light. The sounds from the deck seemed to fade away, blocked by wooden walls and thick glass. There were few others in the quarters. Officers examining a map around a table and a man reading a book from the shelves off to the side. Josef felt a pang. Despite not wanting the ship to be bogged down he had hoped that more books could be brought, more knowledge preserved. No one else agreed, of course, wanting food and supplies instead. He couldn't blame them, really, but still thought it was a shame.

Seeing the books reminded him of something he had to do. He went to a chair in the corner, away from the others, and pulled a small table in front of it. Setting up the table in the usual way meant that he held a quill, put an inkwell in the top right and the book from his pocket in the centre. Opening the book to the first empty page, he sliced the tip of the quill with his knife, dipped it in the ink and wrote.

Left this morning from the Verge on the Renatus boat. Weather good, but seas might grow choppy later. Let us leave these cursed lands behind and start anew, no matter what must be abandoned...

Josef intended to let the ink dry and then close the diary, but he hesitated. He instead turned back the pages, going back to a time years ago. His writing was looser and freer there, with larger letters. He read the words he had recorded, with a sadness welling inside him.

Got a letter from Mother today. Bilaboo was destroyed by monsters under an Undead. Father tried to help fight them off, but he was killed by a Blaze. I... don't even know what to feel...

Josef knew that he should stop reading, but as he always did he turned to another page.

Tabitha wrote to me today. Mother has died of a broken heart and sickness. I guess we'll bury her in Bilaboo with Father...

Finally...

Galahar and New Terriko were attacked. New Terriko was tainted and fell, but Galahar was saved. It matters not, since... Tabitha fell...

Josef would never forget the day. The cabin of the ship seemed to be closing in around him as he remembered the screeching of the Ghasts. The lights seemed to dim, remembering the darkness that brought the hordes of monsters on the Renatus capital. He shivered, recalling the cold, prickling sense of dread when he saw the tainted walls of New Terriko, despite the heat from the flames and lava. Running into the city, past shining blood on the streets and piles of burning debris. Making it to the suburbs, to the small house, seeing the bodies on the floor, nearly passing out at the thought that his whole family was wiped out. Horror when he saw Tabitha’s prized battleaxe on the ground, and her distinctive armour cast aside, partially melted. And finally... despair, the worst he had ever known, as he saw Tabitha lying burned on the floor of the kitchen.

There was a sudden jolt, and his inkwell slid off the table. Josef snapped his head up, suddenly aware that his eyes were wet, and his breathing was quick and ragged. No one was looking at him, but several seemed to have noticed the sudden movement. Looking out the windows, Josef saw that the sky was growing ever darker as the clouds thickened above and the waves grew taller. Many of the passengers on the ship were now going below decks. Josef did the opposite, gathering his writing things and leaving the quarters to go out on the deck.

He held firm to the supports as the ship heaved in the waves. The wind was picking up, whistling along the deck. The storm strength was slowing increasing, but Josef hardly noticed. He stood at the railing, staring out to sea, keeping a firm footing on the deck. He wasn’t even aware that a person had joined him; he was so tied up in his own thoughts. It took another large wave to make him nearly lose his footing and look up as he recovered. It was then he noticed her standing there.

Surprisingly, she looked content. Her bow was strung over her shoulders, and the quiver on her back still held several arrows. She was wearing her usual leather armour, easy to move in but strong too. Josef would have imagined her to look far more tired, or grief stricken, or hopeless. She noticed Josef finally looking at her. She smiled faintly and said “You’re not going to find Flora in the water, you know.”

Josef was slightly annoyed. He had scoured the boat, looked all over and taken names of those aboard, as part of his duties. If Flora was aboard, she was well hidden. He had naturally assumed that his sister was on a different ship. Did Alice expect him to be looking for her? How? What did she want from him? Without realizing it, without it becoming obvious, his breathing increased again. The sky darkened, and lightning brightened the horizon. “No, I won’t,” he said flatly. “Nor anyone else.”

“She must be on another boat,” Alice said confidently. She genuinely believed it, with no sign of doubt. Josef had tried hard to convince himself the same, but just couldn’t quite reach the same concrete conclusion… They hadn’t seen Flora in years, had heard nothing from or of her, but Alice was always optimistic. Even as Aegis lay shattered and dying, she still had hope that few others did. Surely, Flora would have noticed that Aegis was unsustainable, Alice reasoned, and made her way back to civilization. Then she would have been able to join the crowds in the Verge, escaping to a ship. Josef knew Alice was thinking this without her saying anything. He wanted to try and set his older sister straight, but didn’t know how, what words to use.

“Definitely.”

Alice looked pleased that he agreed, and maybe slightly relieved. She peered out across the waves, towards the direction of the ship traveling on their starboard side. “Can you see her on the Dwarven ship?” She actually held up her hands to her eyes, trying to get a better look. Josef didn’t bother. They could still see the other ships, but communication was increasingly difficult. Birds of many shapes and sizes were flying in the storm, delivering messages between the ships. Flags were being used by various people, although making out who was sending the messages was impossible. Alice seemed to realize, and dropped her hands back to the railing. “I hope we don’t get separated.”

“We won’t.” Josef sounded a lot more confident than he felt. He just wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Alice turned to look at the decks. Despite having thinned as more went below, there was still a large crowd. Some who had gone below felt claustrophobic and had come back up, preferring the possibility of falling overboard rather than suffocating. “How long will the voyage take? Do we have enough supplies?”

“Well, seeing as how we don’t know where we’re going, it’s hard to say.”

The answer didn’t give any assurance to Alice. “We could always get water from the ocean, right? And fish for food?”

Josef was a little irritated. Not in this weather, Alice. “I guess so.”

Alice nodded, encouraged, and continued to watch the deck. Josef again stared out to sea, his eyes focusing on the approaching lightning. Alice was surprised at just how many people managed to fit on the ship. Considering the destruction Aegis had suffered, she thought more would be dead on the streets. Maybe the damage wasn’t that bad, she thought. It could have been saved. But she had seen Laurelin. Although she didn’t want to admit it, leaving was the only choice they had. But at least they all left together. She was content to watch the scenes unfolding on the deck. An Orc, talking to a woman and her son. Two Elves, standing under the mast. A Dwarf, trying to yell at the Dwarf ship. She smiled. Strange that Josef wasn’t watching, he usually liked to be in the middle of things. As she looked, she noticed a familiar face. When he saw her, his eyes widened, then he looked nervous and averted his gaze. Alice waved. Resigned, he made his way towards them unsteadily. Alice tugged Josef’s sleeve, and he turned around. “What?”

The young Human stood before them. He was wearing battered iron armour, holding a dull sword. Not unlike most of the others on the ship, he looked tired, but it was mixed with something else. Fear, maybe, or apprehension. Josef thought he looked as defeated as a man about to fight an Orc clan after coming out of a skirmish with several Blazes. “Hail, Miss Alice, and Royal Scribe Timothee.” He blinked rapidly as he spoke, without making eye contact. He bowed his head at them both individually.

“Hello Dragus,” said Alice with a smile. Josef, who immediately didn’t like the man, only nodded slightly. Dragus looked even more nervous, swaying slightly where he stood. Or maybe it was the waves. Alice turned to Josef. “Dragus lived beside us in New Terriko.”

“Indeed?” Josef replied. “And did you help defend it?” It was unlikely that Dragus noticed the inflection indicating contempt should his answer be unsuitable. Alice noticed, and decided to kick him if he did it again.

“Aye, sir, I did, try. But them Ghasts… I did what I could, before me arrows were gone, then tried to slash ‘em with me sword, but they just kept coming. I had to take cover in the end, sir, for me own life.”

Alice noticed Josef grow absolutely still and silent. Coolness emanated from him, almost making her shiver. He straightened his shoulders, pulling himself to his full height. Sighing to herself, she kicked him.

“Oops – big wave there!” Josef looked at her, annoyed. Hurriedly, “You fought at the Cloud Temple, I’m sure?”

Dragus looked outright scared now. He awkwardly scratched his head, revealing a long, red scratch under his fringe. “Erm… I did.” He looked straight into Josef’s eyes for the first time. They revealed nothing Josef hadn’t already determined… except pure trepidation. And… pity? “Yer older sister. Flora, right?” The Timothees nodded in unison. “Big lady, long hair?” Josef stopped nodding while Alice continued. “Fought with a longsword?” Alice’s brow was furrowed now. With a sudden lurch Dragus grabbed a hold of the rail. Josef nearly slipped, then looked up to see rain closer off the starboard side, and even higher waves. Alice was about to ask if he knew where Flora was when he swallowed hard, looked to the sky, moving his lips, then looked back to them and spoke. “She… di’nt make it.”

Josef was falling… falling… into the darkness… Over the wind and the waves, like a dream he heard Alice gasp and start blabbering. “What?! NO! How… why do you say- What?!” Falling…

Dragus looked between the two Timothees. “There was a woman at tha Temple, looked like ya. Sounded like Tabitha. As soon as the dragon came, she raised her sword, yelled ‘Fer Bilaboo!’ and stabbed the beast.” He seemed to be forcing out the words, and his right hand drifted to touch his forehead. “She- fell then. I tried to get ta her, but the crowd was goin’ the other direction.” He shook his head as the rain started falling, lightly. “I’m… sorry.”

Josef was staring into the water, the waves churning on the surface. He could see the bottom, the deep, dark bottom… so welcoming…

“That must have been her.” Alice had recovered somewhat and at least sounded coherent now. “I just don’t… Tell me about…” She fired off questions at the man, her voice pleading for more information on her sister’s last minutes. Josef wasn’t listening. He could see lights in the water now, deep, deep, far away. He wanted to touch them, bring them close. They were so warm…

“… was there with Dranton Wilcox. I can go look fer him?” Alice nodded. “I’ll try ‘n come right back.” Dragus took off for the below decks. Alice turned to Josef, hoping to find him waiting to talk, but he wasn’t.

Josef was staring into the water, with an expression Alice had only seen when they were children and he wanted a new book. It was longing, mixed with the desire for knowledge. As the rain dampened their hair, she realized that rain was not what was streaming down both their cheeks. Josef paid her no attention, but was focused on the waves.

He could make out faces in the swirling foam… beckoning hands… and the lights, glowing brightly from deep below…

“Josef?” Alice sounded like she too was below the waves, confusing him immensely. She was beside him, wasn’t she? Did she too join those in the water? No… “Josef…” She reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

The touch… warmth… Josef felt himself rising, getting higher and higher. But he didn’t want to. The lights flickered and dimmed. He wanted to resist, to grab them, to feel their heat. But Alice…

He could feel again, and not just the rain, or the waves. He felt like he was awakening, for the first time in a long time. He could see the waves, and the foam, but no faces, could hear the wind with no voices, smell the sea without the metallic resonance. Rising… he emerged from the water, from the deep dream. It… was all over.

“Josef.” Alice sounded persistent. Not desperate, not scared. No, she never would, never did. Josef was so grateful… “I’m… I’m still here.”

Josef turned away from railing, turning his back to the sea. “And so am I.” He spoke with conviction, with strength. Alice looked at him appraisingly. “I will never leave you, Alice.” He had no one else now.

Alice smiled lopsidedly. “I know.” There was no one else now.

The moment was broken when Dragus suddenly reappeared. He looked between the two of them, noticing the change in both, but unwilling to pinpoint it. Right behind him was another young man, armourless and without a weapon. He had a small goatee that made him look a lot older than he really was. “This is- “Dragus tried to introduce him.

Both Josef and Alice stared. He was older than they remembered, taller, with a warrior’s posture and looks. But they both recognized him as the boy that they had grown up with. “I-inago?” Alice said, flustered. “What-“

The young man was looking at the Timothees with the same expression. “Josef? Alice?” He looked surprised for a moment, then pleased, then outright shocked. Dragus looked confused.

“We haven’t seen you in… years, Inago.” Alice was trying to recover from her initial surprise. “How have you been?”

Inago didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked a lot like how Dragus had, nervous and apprehensive. When he spoke, his voice wavered. “Um... well, you know. Left the village. Took the name of my father. Fought for my life in Aegis and whatnot.”

Alice smiled. “You fought with Dragus at the Temple?”

Inago nodded. “Aye, we were both there.” He hesitated. “I… need to tell you two something. It is important.” He spoke with conviction, but his face revealed that he didn’t want to say anything. He glanced at Dragus, hoping for support, but the man didn’t offer anything. With a look of resolution, he said “You have a brother.”

Alice, Josef and Dragus all stared at him. He looked uncomfortable. Alice was definitely losing the battle in trying to look unconfused. Inago kept speaking slowly and jarringly. “After the attack on Bilaboo I went to the north with a few other survivors. After a few years, a letter addressed to me arrived. It was from my mother, who had gone to a small town in the wilds. The letter said that she had spoken with James Timothee years ago, back when his children were still very young. He confessed that he had had an affair, now long ago, with an Elf in Laurelin. And… she had a son.” Josef had his head cocked to one side, listening, a sense of great awareness and hope rising in him. Alice was nodding as he spoke. “But… I don’t know anything about him, where he is, even if he still lives.” He spoke more quickly now. “If he lived and made it onto the boats, you could probably find him in the new lands.”

A crack of thunder suddenly rang out on top of the ship. The wind, rain and waves all reached a cacophony. As the ship heaved yet again, Dragus and Inago were knocked off their feet and fell onto the wet deck. Josef and Alice looked at each other, saying nothing but communicating everything.

They had a brother.

Josef felt alive.

Song Druid Arik - "Son of None, The Origin"

Chapter One: A Tale of Two Lovers

In the time shortly before the Undead stirred and reared their head in Aegis, there was a high-elven woman by the name of Areanne. She was a beautiful woman, tall, and strong, with a fierce expression and a closed heart. This woman the descendant of some long lost Elven nobility, now left to the humble life of a scholar. She traveled across Aegis, recording knowledge.

Even as the Undead slowly started claiming their first foothold in the far reaches of the frozen north, Areanne was traveling in Southern Aegis, learning from the culture of the Humans, and taking in the creations they produced in their short lifespans.

It was about this time that a young elf by the name of Timayame came to Aegis, emerging from a country from across the sea with a past equally mysterious. And even as Areanne smiled at him for the first time, there came a connection that sparked something within the two. Some think that there is one soul out there designed to compliment one's own, and if that were true then these were the two. Areanne noticed, in his company, they breathed in time, and she could swear the sound of her heartbeat was doubled by the unanimous beating of his own alongside hers. At the urging of Timayame, Areanne came and began living with him in a converted cave within a mountain just west of Oren.

It was a tall mountain, and with his skill with a pickaxe and a few years Timayame was able to hollow out more of it and soon they'd created a thriving home within the mountain, their own sanctuary, a secret place to keep to themselves. It was, as many things start out, a wonderful life to share between two people so in love.

In his heart, Timayame could never explain the connection shared with this woman. It was purely magical-there was a connection between them that transcended the limitations of the world, extending into the metaphysical, and linked with the cosmic. To find that one other, custom made by God for you, is extremely rare, indeed, some could say it was a historical moment when they first met; Areanne and Timayame soon acted as one mind, one heart, one soul and one body. They were inseparable, and the spark between them grew more each day. There came a time when they need not speak at all, just exchanged feelings through this connection that seemed to defy all reason, and yet it persisted.

And they would admit, looking back, that when they gazed upon eachother, they were gazing deep into the other's soul. Some said, over time, the beauty of their other half was imprinted on them, and when they walked about, all could see the love and passion they showed for one another on their face. And though they had always held an unnatural glow, Timayame's eyes seemed to shine more than ever in her presence.

Chapter 2: Enemies Made

And so a few years passed, with life going as normal, and serving as a happy life indeed for Timayame and Areanne. However, with the stirrings from the North of the Undead, the world was a little uneasy. The couple decided that it would be wiser to move down south, behind the Whispering Isles. Abandoning the sanctuary, the couple traveled for several weeks before arriving at the old cottage of Timayame's youth. It was difficult, but they were able to settle into a new lifestyle. For the first time in her life, Areanne took on the life of a farmer, but even as she tended the crops of the small garden next to the shack, she often thought with a smile that she must have a drop of Wood Elf in her, because she found an odd comfort in it.

Now, Timayame had professed his past as an assassin to Areanne, and in the spirit of their pure love she accepted it without a second thought. However, those who had been afflicted by his contract killings weren't so nonchalant in forgiving him. And although he covered his tracks, it just takes one slipup to bring everything down.

On one of his jobs, he ventured north of Winterhold to the bandit camp of the "Ashe", a group of seven bandits: Svor, Iren, Illyte, Mogrin, Krugin, Charlsi and Fryttae.

Led by Krugin, a stout orc who'd been exiled from Krugmar in his youth, the group had caused trouble about Aegis for many years, before setting up their camp near Winterhold. Fearing attack, perhaps, Timayame was captured to take care of their leader.

And so it was that with swift feet and a quiet blade Timayame snuck into the camp and slit Krugin's throat as he slept. As he escaped from his tent, Timayame's tunic sleeve snagged on a nail on one of the beams holding the tent up. Jerking himself free, he escaped the camp without detection.

However, Fryttae, stepping up as their new leader, found this small scrap of clothing that remained on the nail, and devoted his time and the time of his men to tracking and taking revenge on Timayame in the most painful way possible for the death of their comrade.

And so one evening, as Areanna watched the beautiful Aegian sunset, Iren, Charlsi and Illyte crept out and took her captive. Even as she screamed, and Timayame rushed to the door, he was not able to save her, only watch as they pulled her silhouette off in the horizon, too far to chase.

When two souls so connected meld together for so long, there is something of a dependency that occurs between them. Being away from his love under such circumstances, for even a week, drove Timayame mad. Withdrawal from one's other half is far worse than sugar withdrawal.

But little did anybody know, Areanna wasn't alone when she was abducted...

Chapter 3: With Child

The journey back to Winterhold was a hard one for the bandits. Carrying this woman farther from her destined love, they tampered with forces they could not hope to understand. However, though it was a struggle, the bandits took their prey to camp successfully. Fryttae would observe this woman, broken and weak, and prey upon her in the night, fueled by urges sparked by her ferocity and beauty, although he paid for his advances with his left eye. In a rage Areanne smote him in the face after the deed was done, spitting bitterly in the blood, and rubbing her wrists where the restraints had tightly held.

Needless to say, Areanne paid dearly for her retaliation. Kept as a servant girl she was forced to wait on the bandits-but as her stomach grew, so did her insanity. Her separation from Timayame was reacting with the hormonal imbalance brought upon her pregnancy. And as she descended more into madness, she held tight to the sliver of sanity that was her unborn child-and she hatched a plan to guarantee the safety of him, no matter the cost.

And biding her time, the months past. When once she was granted always guarded, she was allowed the freedom of privacy. No pregnant woman in this condition, Fryttae rationalized, would be able to cause much trouble.

And as she felt herself too close to release, Areanne realized her time had come. And so in the dead of night, after making sure the camp's night guard was sufficiently intoxicated, Areanne stole away, taking a horse and riding as fast as she could south.

She traveled for many days and many nights, and she came upon King's Road, and approached the Whispering Isles. In this time, it was the most safe from the undead, being so far south that many believed that it would never fall. But that's a story for another time.

Seeing this ragged woman, the townsfolk realized that she was nearing the end of her term, and that she was due any day now, so they brought her in to the home of one of the local women, and a few people were kind enough to tend to her many injuries.

She roomed with another pregnant woman, who had just given birth to a human boy. Areanne found comfort in her presence, and even as she went into convulsions she knew it was good to have somebody understanding her pain.

And so the time came, and the midwife arrived. Long did the labor last, but finally there bore a healthy elf boy. Areanne clutched her child in her arms, kissing his head and adjusting his swaddling clothes. "Serir", she said softly, giving him his name. She then passed out into a tired heap, and the child was laid in a cradle near her, with the other woman's son.

Chapter 4: Changeling

It was a week later-when the raiding party of the Ashe arrived. Areanne did not expect them to follow truly, but even as she heard the devastated screams of the townspeople she knew without a doubt who they were there for.

Jumping to her feet, she knelt down to the cradle near the bed, wiping a tear from her eyes, steeling herself, and then uttered "Come, Serir"...and ran out the door, baby in her arms. The slam of the door was enough to wake the tired harlot who bore the human boy, and she realized immediately that she needed to get to safety as well.

Dash_Rogers - "Homecoming Heroes"

Marlna Farsten sits on a pine log not much bigger than she at the center of the small camp for five, cooking and preparing breakfast for the party. It was she who chopped the small tree down; cut it into five sections of timber and rolled them around into a pentagon formation for sitting arrangements around the basic fire pit she formed when they first arrived last night. Members were responsible for pitching their own tents, but Marlna is the one with the skill for throwing together a temporary campsite outpost and the master cook in the group. Though it is morning, the team only just recently trekked out and away from a frosty biome, and snow still lingered around on the sage green grass, pine and birch trees, and yet the female dwarf did not appear to be cold. Although to be fair, she was sitting in front of an actively dancing fire, wearing brown hardened leathers and wolf furs. Farsten looked very focused on the chicken eggs sizzling, popping, and bubbling in the iron frying pan she held over the fire without any sign of weakness. She took on the appearance of a statue, only every now and then using a stick in her right hand, to flip the eggs, to make over easy style and sprinkling bits of pepper and sea salt from her private reserves. Inside wide wooden bowls nearby her sitting place, with sheets of heat containing parchments on top, were two eggs per bowl, each paired with a small goblet of water and a half loaf cut of bread.

Marlna looks over to the right of the fire in front of her to Lady Perishs tent. Since the sun is just waking up, making the outside still fairly dark, the hanging redstone lamp within Elizabeths tent, lights it in a way that makes a shadowed silhouette of her body just rising from her slumber sack. Miss Farsten is prepared to call for Elizabeth Perish to take pleasure in her prepared reserves but the calm tranquil morning setting kept her silent and respectful just as it did when Derazule Fairness awoke. Derazule, at this point, looks to beyond her morning routine in her tent and Marlna assumes that the elven girl is working with her pestle and mortar blending ingredients for potions. Instead, Marlna continued finishing final preparations, and then afterwards turns to the small music box device she has been engineering for her little sister as a gift for when she finally returns to Karik. The little crank activated music box looked more like a delicate golden sphere transforming from a cube with small cogs and sprockets all seeming to work for one supreme goal to play a simple, short and lullaby like tune. It was the tune their mother used to hum to them near candlelight when it was time to fall asleep.

Not to long after Farsten started up with her tinkering, Noshgam’Gulgum returned from the woods to the campsite with a dead bovine about his enormous orcish shoulders with his highly disciplined, oversized wolves by his side, each carrying wild boar carcasses attached to the harnesses upon their backs like their master. Noshgam is unimaginably big for a being of this earth. Perhaps that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but only an orc can be so big and even then, he is one of the largest you’ll ever meet.

Marlna twists her waist around upon hearing the sturdy greenie emerge from the brush to greet him ecstatically. “Ug! That ther’ yer brukfust orcsie?” Noshgam responds in a booming voice “UUUg. Da Moorr (what he calls cows) be mine, but me ‘llready ated breakfast. Buubs be for hailers (his non-derogatory term for referring to the other races)”. The orc proceeds to the center of camp towards the fire dropping the cow at his tent as he passes it then moves on to Farstens side and detaches the pigs from his wolves, giving them to the dwarf to wrap up for later lunch time. As he turns back and moves to his setup to prepare lunch out of the cow for later, Marlna curiously eyes him. His enormous, overly muscular, shirtless back with his massive killing cleaver held on by a cord of thick sailing rope drips with the blood of the hunt, falling to the ground he just passed over. As her eyes trail the globs of blood falling down she looks at his semi armored, cloth, battle skirt. It had more cloth than it did metal, but where it did have sheets of ore, there were iron, diamond and gold patches in a loose subtle pattern about the garment that defended all around from his waist to his lower thigh area. Perhaps they are a representation of his high standing in the military. The metals on his skirt make little noise against the inner cloth but shines brilliantly now that the sun is less dim. Miss Farsten turns back just before seeing the orc bent down to a crouch on his desert appropriate gladiator sandals and begin hacking into the meat, throwing some hunks of it to his hounds and the rest made into smaller chunks making it easier to carry when on the move. This orc was not particularly over aggressive like his fellow countrymen, but he still was not that cheery, but smiles are not as rare as you may think.

Just as she turned her head back to refocus on the music box she was crafting, Derazule Fairness appeared front and center, eyeing her share of food with her big lavender eyes, her upper teeth biting her lower lip, and her light teal skin toned hands rolled into fists against her breast eagerly waiting to spring out and grab for it.

You would think of an elf, especially of the wizarding type, to be calm, collected and graceful. That’s not Derazule. She may be extremely knowledgeable in sorcery spell casting, enchanting, and potion brewing, but her focus is not as strong as her will, which often results in incorrect casting, binding and botched potions. It does not matter how long they have been traveling and what conditions the party has passed through, out of the entire group, her sky blue and white robe with gold trim, looked pristine and clean as ever, yet she has not washed it since they started out from the elven capital. Her robe is more of a large droop sleeved, shoulder less tight one piece, with a wide skirt that cuts off at the upper thigh.

By start out from the elven capital, I mean the elf, Derazule Fairness, along with Lady Elizabeth Perish the paladin and Marlna Farsten the dwarven girl, a master engineer, began their journey by foot, instead of boat, through the wild to get back to the mainland.

Along the way they first encountered Noshgam’Gulgum, the oversized ultra warrior, in a desert biome battling what appeared to be a scaddernak! The three looked on to the scene as if it were a mirage at first. An orc the half the size of this mythical scorpion spider beast was engaged in mortal combat with the creature with only the help of his hunting hounds. The ground on which they fought was that dried ocean desert look, completely flat and had the broken pattern that you see on a turtles back. Yet there were sand dunes about here and there and slowly eating the land just in front of the three adventures that looked upon the warriors fighting in the sand among sandstone structured ruins. The two looked nearly matched but it seemed the orc and his pets were in more of a struggle. Having zero combat skill, Marlna could not help, but the elf and human joined right into the war.

Sand rolls up over his body from the pincer that pierced into the ground from where Noshgam’Gulgum just rolled. A split second later he was lunging foreword from the earth, slamming his head into the monsters eye, gripping its right horn with his left arm, and his right hand jabbed into its nostril while the dogs kept its pincers occupied. He was attempting to rip the creatures’ head apart with pure strength but was bucked off eventually from a few head thrashings. The orc was thrown back a fair distance and just before he got back up to charge again, two bolts of arcane power flew over head and slammed down on the monstrosity, nailing it in the face and a right leg bringing it to collapse from the overwhelming shockwaves while at the same time a fully armored being than when ran past Noshgam headed for the scaddernak, blinded him. The rays from the desert sun enlightened and brightened the gold steel armor that made it look like a star was running on the earths’ surface. Soon enough, the orcs eyes adjusted to the intensity enough so that he was able to make out that it looked the shape of a female human. She wore legendary gold armor blended with iron for the chest plate and a steel chainmail skirt. Her helmet appeared to be made mostly of iron in a bulbuls shape from the back but the faceplate was crafted from gold. It was the most detailed aspect of the helm. The lower half that covered her cheekbones down to her upper chest was made of a chainmail, cloth and was tight to her skin. The rest that was sheets of gold protected her eyes in a way that only she can see through them but no one can see into them. The faceplate made her look like an armored bird how it exaggerated defending her forehead, the top of her head, and the sides of her face.

He knew it had to be a female by the look of her breastplate, her size, and legs. Like a shimmering shooting star, she leaped at her target with her tropical water blue crystal glass diamond blade drawn and straightened out in front of her posed to impale while it was dazed from the bolts and trying throw the dogs off its back. The sword makes purchase into the monsters right side. It roars out in pain and throws Lady Perish off with the sword still jabbed in.

Noshgam looks behind himself seeing his axe sticking out of the sand by the blade from when it had got detached from him earlier in the battle when reinforcements had not been around yet. He quickly retrieves his cleaver getting a glimpse of Derazule casting spells in a mad furry then heads back into the fray. Within seconds, the orc is within striking range again and takes action against the dazed creature. He raises his battle-axe with both hands above his head, and then drives it down chopping off three legs with one slash. The thing frantically launches its poison spiked tail in every direction stabbing sandstone and earth trying to kill. At the same time, its enlarged pincers snap for the two melee fighters who dodge all attacks flawlessly except one of the pups was hit and sent flying but recovered without a problem. After more failed strikes, the creature burrows into the sand below tossing a brief dust devil sandstorm up in the air of where it just was. The warriors’ stand poised, ready and focused.

Lady Perish becomes meditatively focused on her surroundings; she feels it rumbling in the sands beneath. She does not want to give away her knowledge to the monster by moving out of the way just yet, she knows it would be to early and the monster would sense her dodging and react like a sniper, leading the shot on a running target. Elizabeth would have to time it just right to get the beastie out in the open again while at the same time avoiding her doom. The earth beneath her rises in vibrations, her feet tingle and she is a millisecond from lunging when the sand freezes.

Instinctively she snaps her eyes to and commands Derazule, “ROLL OUT RIGHT NOW!”

As soon as the elf heard the human shout roll, she had leaped outwardly to her left simultaneously thrusting raw arcane power from her palms back in the direction she just ejected from that was now occupied by the over enraged mythical monster that had just un-burrowed out of the dunes and into the air with extreme force. Her magic blasted the scaddernak onto its back struggling to get back on its arachnid legs but before it could recover, the orc was already in the form of a solar eclipse, falling from the sky, blocking the sun and casting a shadow upon the evil with is massive cleaver slamming down into its abdomen like a meteor punching into the planets gut imploding its insides.

Noshgam violently rips his and Elizabeth’s weapons back out from the slain boss leaving large, gaping, blood rushing, craters. His story goes that he was banished from his clan for losing a battle against another clan and was told the only way to return was if he brought back a tamed or slain scaddernak, rightfully believed to be an endangered, or perhaps once and for all now, an extinct species. He had been hunting this scaddernak for a century now and since the quest is complete, he may return home. From then, he joined the party headed back to the mainland.

While Marlna Farsten packed up the new meats, occasionally stopping to fork in some eggs and Derazule fairness devoured all her food at once perched on a small log, huddled over with her legs tight together, The human paladin, Lady Elizabeth Perish, emerged from her tent fully armored again with her faceplate up revealing her face. She had a very serious straight face unlike Farsten and Fairness who both always had very cheery looking expressions. Mid stride, she turned to look at the fifth tent occupied by the young human, Felix. It was a shabby and small tent compared to the others and poorly constructed. Each tent had a way of representing the owners’ race but this one was just disgraceful. Elizabeth bent over to pick up a stone the size of her hand and tossed it at the boys’ tent destroying it, startling the young man awake inside. “Are we under attack?!” Shouted the youngest member in the squad. To which Perish replied, calmly with aggression in her voice as she arrived at the fire to retrieve and begin eating her food, “you’re going to be if you continue to delay this party with your lateness.” Felix snaps, “By aerials light give me a break will ya?” after a short pause as he gathers his cloths and untangles himself out of his tent he asks, “Still have that kink in your undergarments do ya Miss Perish?” Elizabeth reacted by taking her eggs in the wood bowl to him and turning it over on top of his head while he was distracted with his back turned pulling up his trousers. “Those are your eggs now boy.” She then returned to the other girls who were now giggling in amusement. Elizabeth took his rations for her own.

When the girls had left the desert with Noshgam’Gulgum, now a part of the group, they passed through a small settlement in the mountain plains of the wilds, stopping in a tavern to rest their legs. They ordered food and Elizabeth ordered wine, while the rest got ale. The nineteen-year-old boy who brought their drinks struck up a conversation with them asking where they were headed in a loud tone. Perish was annoyed with the young man shouting in her ear but showed little expression. The orc was looking out the window not hearing the other members. The dwarf and elf are the ones who responded. Derazule, happy as ever, said that she was on her way to meet up with very old friends in Salvus. The dwarf, with a content look about her, spoke for everyone else. Noshgam’Gulgum has fulfilled his quest and is returning to his home in the war nation, Elizabeth Perish is meeting someone in Hanseti, and I am just returning to my family in Karik after a repair job I did for the elves.” Marlna finished talking and took a gulp of Ale. “That’s a fair story, well I better get back to the bar” as soon as the boy finished his last word, eagerly moving backward and turning, ran straight into a busty barmaid who stumbled on the impact and dropped her tray of drinks and foods but only the boy fell on his face dropping minas all over the floor. Lady Perish stood and took an aggressive stance and spoke in a subtle quiet tone. “You filthy little thief. That’s my mina pouch.” She steps on his leg bends over and whispers in his ear as he winces. “You’re making it up to us. You are now our mule. You will carry what we don’t want to as far as I say so.” He begs, “be reasonable! That’s far too harsh, I only stole from you to teach you a lesson, bad things should happen to negative people. You want me to wear myself out lugging all your stuff to a place I have no business in?” She smiles, “Precisely.” She states, then shouts to the tavern owner, “Bartender, we’re taking your bus boy.” The bartender calls back “’e don’t work ‘ere.” Elizabeth then mumbles, “of course he doesn’t. We should continue while the sun is still high. Mule, grab my things.” The boy interjects, “I got a name, call me Felix.” Picking up Elizabeth’s things, he whispers to Derazule fairness the elf girl, “what’s got her knickers in a knot?” The elf merely giggles in response.

They moved out of the town and into the frosty mountains, which soon became a dense forest of tall pine trees and thin birch woods. Soon enough, after a long walk, while listening to the dwarf, elf and boy chat, the day darkens and a camp is made. Marlna Farsten, the dwaf sapper constructed a fire pit that would ward off unwanted company in their sleep. Having eaten enough food before they left the tavern, they all set their tents and went straight to bed, some soon than others with the thief boy being the last one to pitch and sleep.

Felix jumps awakes being smothered by his small tent and crys out asking if the camp is compromised. Elizabeths voice is heard, sounding very annoyed as Felix rises from his torn tent, pants less blinking and squinting in bright morning light. Felix tells her, in a snarky voice, to lay off him. He finds his pants in the wreckage, pushing aside the now snapped sticks that held his temporary home together, he gathers them up putting them on one leg at a time, then makes another rude comment about Lady Perishs underpants. Just before he is able to tie the knots in place that hold up his trousers, a bowl of eggs appear on his head. The yellow yolk trickles down over his hair. Girls are heard snickering then laughing out loud.

After Felix returned from a nearby river with clean wet hair and cloths still dirty, the group was already packed up ready to move out again. All Felix had for breakfast was some bread and water given to him by Marlna as the team set out into a very bright, mossy, green, lush, thin birch wood populated biome.

A gravel road appeared visible again, signifying that they were on the right track and that the mainland was not far now. They all felt very calm and soothed moving through that forest. Butterflies fluttered about, dainty delicate streams trickled from miniature waterfalls, moving through and over fallen hollowed logs with clover overgrowth hugging to it. Woodpeckers can be heard but not seen, same with the chirping of a variety of other birds and bugs. Other than the earthly ambiance, the only sounds generated from the party, are the trekking of their boots on the gravel dirt path, the clanging of their armored plates clapping into each other and the equipment that they carry. The stream that had been running parallel to them suddenly crosses the road, replacing the dirt gravel in front of them, with boulders, rocks and water. It still remains harmless and small, posing no threat, as the team zigzags over the obstacle.

A downhill in the route appears and at the bottom, an old man in a green robe tunic can be seen on his knees with his face in his hands next to a hole in the pathway. Marlna, who happens to be leading the group in a single file line, breaks ahead to aid the old man. With concern in her voice, “good sir, what troubles you?” In an aged, deep, crackly voice, he responds, “My granddaughter! The ground broke beneath her as we walked over it and she is now trapped down there! Please help!” Elizabeth arrives and interjects “We accept the quest O’ withered one. She will be rescued.” The old man includes some extra information; “I called to her but have not heard a response since she fell 5 minutes ago.” Derazule speaks to the man the way a mother calms her crying baby “You have our word, your granddaughter will return to you safely.” On that note, little Farsten tugs on the bags Felix is forced to carry on his back, causing him to fall on his bum. Now that she is able to access the contents, she rummages in it pulling out sticks with coal tied to the tops that look like little spears. She lights one with a clack of flint and steel setting the coal ablaze. To size up the scene, she drops it down into the aperture and discovers that the ground is not far down but will still require a rope ladder to get in and out. Within the next minute, she crafts one, ties it to a nearby birch tree and sends the rest unraveling down the fissure. At the same time, the orc, Nashgam’Gulgum, communicates to his hounds an order to defend the old man until they return with the girl. Elizabeth climbs down first and reaches the bottom with her sword at the ready. Eventually the whole party is down below with Lady fairness at point temporarily lighting the way with magic emanating from her palms as the dwarven girl takes up the rear just in front of the orc, injecting torches into the crevasses within the stonewalls.

So far the cave systems takes on the form of a linear path filled with cobwebs. Derazules bright blue magic parts the webs with an invisible force and illuminates the walls scary pinkie sized eight legged bugs away frantically. It is damp, eerie, and silent down below. Every member is prepared for something wicked. Even Felix wields a small dagger but looks to scared to use it. Cobwebs turn into hanging vines and the cavern walls become man made stone bricks. They have encountered sunken ruins. Derazule slides her hand against the cracked, mossy, smooth, and organize bricks gaining a gaining a larger sense of fear for the girl. A young female scream floods the tunnel shattering the silence within. The elf quickly shouts a replay, “I’m coming!” then sprints foreword off following the voice, to which Lady Perish tries to reason, “Derazule wait! Don’t!” the group gives chase into the stronghold, attempts to catch up, but loses her and slow to a stop at a cross section. “Derazule!” the orc belts out. They wait for an echo from the elf, but hear nothing in return. Marlna spots an iron cell door left creaked open and directs the other three to make way through it giving each member their own torch to carry.

Now the dwarf leads, lighting the way, eager to locate her lost friend. The female human and Noshgam are close behind, Perish with her long sword gripped in both hands and ‘Gulgum with his enormous cleaver raised high ready to chop in his right and a smaller double sided axe in his off hand held upside down for defensive purposes. Felix is lagging behind, but not by far, at least until his eye caught a sharp shimmering flash from a locked chest that reacted to the light from his torch to the right against a wall. His thieving instincts took hold and he found himself kneeling beside the small box. With a wide smile and a quiet chuckle, the boy lays down his torch and retrieves a lock pick from his personal belongings. Felix moves his hands with steady easy into the lock and begins tinkering inside with the pins. Carefully, he listens and feels around waiting for the satisfying click. A small dark drop falls from the ceiling, shortly disrupting his eyesight and taps his thigh just above his kneecap. Felix pays no attention, assuming it was a water droplet and keeps his focus on the task at hand.

The young boy just knows the treasure within will soon be his within seconds but something suddenly breaks his concentration. The feeling of a needle piercing his leg caused him to jump dropping his pick. Felix looks down upon his folded legs, but the placement of the torch shadows the surface of his legs. Squinting his eyes, he can make out that something small is where that water drop fell. With his right hand, he grabs for his torch. Slowly raising it from the ground the light soon clarifies the situation Felix is in. Upon the boy’s leg, is a white, maggoty looking bug, the size of a human hand with a formation of spikes along its back. Pain shoots through his limb again calling forth a cry of agony from Felix and then a swing of his torch batting the beast off his leg tearing away cloth from his pants and revealing a bloody open wound. He bends over on it applying pressure then hears a small squeal and soon after, the sound of one thousand centipedes crawling around within the walls.

Felixes blood curdling scream catches up to the three who turn and run to the source. They sprint back looking around the room and see something moving in the dark. They angle their torches toward the surging darkness to find scores of silverfish rushing over and around a human body, devouring. Felix was being eaten alive and was beyond saving. More silverfish pour from holes in the walls charging for the three that remain who pull themselves away and out of the room slamming shut a thick iron door behind them. “The monks do not look over us this day my friends” States Elizabeth Perish. Marlna shutters, “Te’.. Te’ ate em! Right before our eyes!” Just as she finished her sentence, a bright blue light erupts from a spiral staircase that leads down at the end of the hall. Noshgam gasps “Derazules mojo!” They all make way down the stairs, passing two floors, arriving in a room without door but have windows made of iron bars. Through them, in another wide dimly, torch lit room that looks like it sustained damage from an earthquake earlier, they spot Derazule engaged in combat with three zombies. She obliterates one to her left while holding an arcane light barrier on her right, shielding her from the other two oncoming dead beats. She notices her friends as soon as they entered, “Skeletons have her!” The subtle sound of moving rocks is heard behind the walls and floor. Derazule shouts to them again reinforcing her enchanted screen with both hands, “they are getting away hurry!” The dwarf acts fast throwing her pack down and obtaining a stick of dynamite from it, places it on the windowsill against the bars and lights it. The three rush for cover and a second later the wall blasts open. The orc, human, and dwarf file back and move into the room, running to aid Derazule. From afar, the elf is seen with her left foot planted flat, leg bent and her right knee knelt into the stone floor. Her shield looks as if it is faltering and the undead are taking ground. She looks back at her fast approaching allies and a smile appears on her face, a smile of relief. Suddenly the ground shifts below her and her smile flips. The ruins around her seem to gain more cracks and before long, the half of the room that the elf was in, along with the monsters, crumbles away falling down a ravine. She cries out in complete fear disappearing from the others sight once more. Marlna falls to her knees and weeps, the others still charge for the leveled side of the room as if they could still save her calling after her. Looking out and over the edge, the ravine is filled with lava pouring from the walls. It was a cave interior ravine; there was only a gap in the earth but no view of the surface. Derazule Fairness was nowhere to be seen, gone forever.

“She will not die in vain!” Elizabeth stated. The orc and human carried the near weightless dwarf, allowing her to let it out and return her focus to the quest. They move in the direction Derazule had commanded previously, up a long flight of stairs and into a poorly lit library that was not well kept in the slightest. Cobwebs blocked every path and the only light that was in the room came from two or three bookshelf on fire from torches that had fallen against them or on the ground. They attempted hurrying through it but were slowed by the numerous obstacles and yet finally broke free through double wooden doors into a grand hall held by large pillars, much like dwarf architecture.

Far off they see a slow moving squad of skeletal warriors carrying the little four-year-old human girl above their heads in an open casket. Just as the three began a mad dash to the rescue, the ceiling above them starts to move. Looking up they eye webbing instead of stone and from them, descending down on threads of silk, large black and small blue spiders with mandibles dripping with hunger. “Go! Me klomp all da beasties!” assured Noshgam’Gulgum. Without stopping, the human turned and nodded to the orc as he halted and pivoted to face the immense force of arachnids once again slowly drawing his axe watching as a wave of evil swarmed towards him. “YU NUB HAVE FIRST STRIKE!” his battle cry echoes throughout the underground world as he charges head first and leaping high into the maw of the storm cutting downward through bodies and into the ground, blasting a shockwave from within the army of darkness, sending scores upon scores of bugs flying to their doom. As he rises he chops and as he moves he hacks, never letting up, never backing down till all have fallen by his blades and raw strength. As he slices more spiders he gets a glimpse of the human and dwarf at the end of the hall smashing through more double doors hot on the heels of those skeletons. He feels clarity as he kills, knowing they will succeed but his sense of ease is cut short as he hears a large thud crash into the ground behind him. As he turns he notices all the spiders flee. What the orc looks upon now, is a queen black widow, much larger than the scaddernak he killed in the desert and still accepts the duel here. He rushes at it with a roar as she does the same. Noshgam swings at the things eyes chopping deep and losing hold of it. He tumbles over her back, lands on the stone floor and fallen spiders but recovers instantly. The monster smashes through a column sending stone debris about the hall as it turns around. His cleaver is sticking from one of her foreword eyes that bleed profusely. They both ran at one another again, but this time he uppercuts her under the head knocking her back a distance then directly after, he lunges for her leg, drawing his small battle axe and chops into it attempting to but it also gets stuck in the thick armored leg. The queen felt nothing, but still ejected the orc over in the direction of the others but still far off. Noshgam’Gulgum smashes into the ground hard. Weakly he rises to his hands and knees but not another second later, the arachnid queen was upon him with one of her spiked legs piercing through his calf.

Noshgams wail causes Marlna to turn and look. She witnesses Noshgam looking to her with failure in his eyes and the queen widening its mouth then chomping down over the orcs head and shoulders. Another arrow of painful emotion is injected into her heart, poisoning her as she watches his lifeless body fall and the queen return to its nest dragging Noshgams body with it. She retreats back after Elizabeth who just arrived in a room that was very well lit with torches all around and pools of lava. They arrive in the room to see the skeletons begin walking up a flight of stairs to what seemed to lead to a portal raised above a pit of molten lava. Lady Perish calls to the little girl, “Jump to me now I will catch you!” Hesitantly, the girl looks out at her rescuers unsure what to do, but then she sees the portal. It had the appearance of the night sky but looked pitch black and the sprinkled twilights appeared menacing and cold compared to the glowing white candle like stars in the sky above. She made her choice and climbed out, falling into Marlnas hands just in time as the skeletons dropped the coffin into the portal gate. Now relived of their trance from the failed sacrifice, the skeletal warriors turn and draw their swords slowing edged to the girls, “I will take them, you get out with the girl, there was a crevice that let in light from the outside just before this room, GET OUT!” Without another thought, Marlna Farsten, carrying the little human breaks away out into the room between the grand hall and the sacrificing temple, quickly, she notices the break in the cave ceiling that lets in a sharp ray of sunshine, behind them the sounds of intense sword fighting, rattling bones and armor is heard. They climb up the broken cavern wall and begin digging. With ease it becomes wide enough for them to fit. The sound of a sword dropping to the floor is heard and the sounds of a battle seem to seize. Marlna pays little attention and instead concentrates on boosting the girl up and out and does so with a strong heave.

Tyrannos and Laika, Noshgams wolves, stand up from sitting beside the old man, bark and move off the path into the wood some. The old man rises from his sad state, still unhappy, yet hopeful and follows. The dogs sniff out behind a large fallen tree, a small child in a ragged sky blue dress with long hazel hair that hangs above her eyes, straight and messy. Her face is covered in dirt but her skin shines white. Her elbows and knees are scraped, bloodied and covered in dirt and she is shoeless. She looks up from the ground at a familiar face, her big brown soft eyes water up as she yelps “Pa Pa!” The little human springs up and into the old man who is not much taller than she. They hold a loving embrace for a long minute then the old man looked up from to where his granddaughter was and asked in his aged voice, “where are the heroes?” they two stare at the new crevice waiting for someone to climb out, but no one made it. Forever more, Tyrannos and Laika were bound by Noshgam’Gulgums final order to protect the old man and in turn, guard the little girl.

[Neri 3590]

Gaius Marius - "Into the Ice" (Provisional Title)

The footsteps indenting the snow was slowly inching back as the snow returned ever so slowly back to an untouched state. The foot steps of at least three men to be exact, were tracing along a hilly landscape wrought with the finest snow that feathered and laced together to give a smooth sheen to the rocky ground beneath and the ice being dragged along by the slowing of water droplets being pulled back by reins of the freezing air so that it may keep shape and add layer upon layer to the icicles that point downward from slates of shale overhanging from small bluffs. The surroundings were so difficult for the leather-burdened wayfarers to observe to ensure their safety due to the blinding reflection of the sun, yet heads hanging low were able to keep track of the path that was in front of them. The tallest of the three kept his upper lip, with tufts of facial hair, over his bottom lip to form a sort of siphon that he blew his heated exhalation atop his chin to keep it slightly warm, yet each time he would inhale, it would simply return to it's numb state. Whispering for the other two to keep firm grips upon their bardiches and to take quick looks upon the hilltops that arose on both sides of them for any sign of wolves. 'Wah't do we look fah' Sauros?' the youngest and shortest, Kipchak, acquires from the tallest man. With a reddened face, Sauros turns and smiles warmly against the deadening cold and responds, 'We look fah' tha' hawm of tha' Dervas, tha' Third Kind' and returns his face ahead as they slowly creep up a rolling hill, using the pole handles of their bardiches to stabilize them as they kick their feet into sheets of ice and provide footholds as they climb. With a doubtful look on his face, Kipchak further acquires, 'Haw' do yoo' ah'nustly cawm' acraws' infur'matiun' like this, we hav' been travul'in fah' a few days and nuthun' in sight?' and turns to the third man, Sartaq and looks into his eyes hoping to arouse Sartaq to help him attempt to persuade Sauros alongside him. Sartaq nods as Sauros begins to explain, 'Yoo' and I knaw' tha' awr' oral traditiuns' hav' been seamless and truthful, awr' ancesturs' wawld' nawt' seek to hav' tha' Subudai lost and blind and walk to awr' own deaths, they say tha' Dervas moved east of the original Hanseti settlement, I aum' intent to see if awr' Dervas brethren are alive, naw' silence yoo' bickering and keep walking, we will survive and we will find sawm'thin', Sauros ends it with butting the pole of his bardiche into the knee of Kipchak softly and laughs quickly so as to keep his warm exhaling fluidly continuing. Upon reaching the crest of the hill, the three men bow their heads and slip open pouches made of sheered sheep skin filled with water and slush of freezing and melting ice and bring the openings onto their bottom lips and raise the gourds up and allow the fluids to enter their throats. Sauros lies down his gourd and sees in the distance an odd structure, a spiraling monument slightly hidden in the blowing snow showers, yet noticable as he squints his eye while putting his left hand over his eyes and brushed against his thick eyebrows. With his disfigured teeth gleaming as he smiles, Sauros takes his right hand, cups it rigidly, and smacks the back of the neck of Kipchak and pulls his head close to his as he crouches to meet Kipchak's height and points in the distance towards the odd structure. 'I aum no liar Kipchak, yoo' shawld' show me moor' respect after now yoo' fool' Sauros whispers tauntingly into Kipchak's ear and laughs with a relish of proving Kipchak his point. Sartaq bends his knees, resting his elbows upon his knees and calls out to Kipchak, 'Yoo' eldur' is always right Kipchak, may this day be proof to nevah' attempt ta' argue with yoo' older kin, learn a lessun' to pass dawn' to yoo' future chil'rin'. With a revigorated urge, the three men begin to jog across the plains leading towards this monument. Upon nearing, the three men slow as they begin to slide on black ice, each man grabbing onto the other's arm and holding firm on their change of terrain and notice they are sliding towards a crevice that leads into a canyon reaching under this structure. Kipchak, being the last to begin the decline down the crevice, twists his body to face the ground that he was sliding down and threw his arm holding the bardiche into the ice...

With a crunch through the thin icy air, Kipchak digs his nails till they begin to splice finely into the hewn pole of his bardiche as he struggles to hold on with the added weight of his two companions attempting to hold firmly to his waist and legs, feeling his loose leather trousers begin to rip as the men struggle to keep firm grip in the chaotic suddenness. Taking one hand swiftly dispatched from the axe and with the knuckles bare and cold knocking a puncture in the ice and gripping the thick sheet in chilling agony, Kipchak grits his teeth and yelps for the two others to try and push themselves upwards and onto the plateau above their heads. Sauros and Sartaq look at each other in the frenzy as they hear the ice being used to reinforce them from falling crack and with their thick, leather-clad bodies scramble to grab onto each of Kipchak's shoulders and kicking their feet into the ice on the sides of Kipchak's torso and climbing slowly but surely upward.

One by One, Sauros and Sartaq throw their bodies heavy over and atop the plateau as they feel their lungs constrict from the working of their blood bother their inhaling of the thin air and cause them to writh into a fetal position as they try to combat the restriction of their airways and regain their stature. Kipchak unhinges the axe carefully and lets the arm go limp as it curls backwards behind his head and attempts to smash the axe into a higher position so he could climb, but with a cry of surprise, his left arm holding onto the small puncture lets loose in numbness and he forces the axe back into place as he slides a short distance down. Sauros falls sideways toward the crevice and reaches out his hand as he breathes deeper and deeper and after a few minutes, leads Kipchak up and over alongside Sartaq as they sit dazed and rebounding from the deathly situation.

'Yoo' satisfah'd naw' Sauros, pray tell yoo' fathurs' fathur knew abawt' this aye? Did he tell yoo' abawt' such a trawp' such as this and tha' possu'bility of almawst' dying?!', spits Kipchak as he curls his upper lip in anger, while running his numbed left hand over his bardiche, the axehead having been unhinged from the bottomhalf of the pole. Sauros glances absentmindedly at Kipchak and shakes his head slowly and with the soles of his feet, twists the positioning of his sitting till he faced the oblique monument; causing Kipchak to spits into the snow as he disgruntedly raises his head to take in the full scale of the monument. Nodding towards it, Sauros chastens Kipchak and turns his head slightly downward as he notices that the monument is tilted. 'Hoo'Hoo, wah't is this, tha' daum' building is twisted and tilted, as if sawm'one took tha' building with thar' hand and twisted it into tha' snow. Tha' Dervas were always knawn' fur' their grand archa'tec'tur, bawt' nevur' hav' I heard frawm' tha' Oral Traditiun' that the Dervas were this eccentric.', claimed Sauros, with this observation, he lifts himself half-heartedly in the cold weather up on his two feet and begins to walk around the crevice in front of it.

From Sauros view, oddly the monument seemed tilted to one side, with the side downward having dipped into the crevice. The two other companions place their palms atop the snowy ground and lift themselves up and join Sauros side with bewildered looks drawn across their face as they fathom the questionable position of the monument. The three companions then scan with their eyes a path to get ever closer to the monument to investigate and begin to walk to the left of the crevice, keeping a timid step in their legs as they avoid any more cave-ins. Nearing the monument, Sauros extends his raw fingertips and glide across the indents of erosion upon the granite of the monument as he smiles softly and ponders with observation of the walls if there were openings to enter as Sartaq and Kipchak nod acknowledgingly as they look at the gigantic proportions of the monument as a whole and Kipchak chuckles and tells Sauros that nonetheless it is interesting to find such an oddity in the vast wasteland in Eastern Trinskiril.

Finding a gaping crevice with snow piled aloft the jagged edges protruding from the rim of the crevice. Oddly enough, the crevice seemed too unnatural, not excusable with the thought of erosion. Sauros lifts his foot firmly and drifts his toes onto the other side of the crevice, securing his belief that he has secure footing, and enters the monument. Sauros bends his palm to beckon the other two to follow him as Sauros realizes that he has to sidestep, arm outstretched to hold himself balanced atop the slanted floors. The silence deadening the air makes Sauros squint his eyes and lean against openings into rooms and look steadily and slowly to ensure that nothing of surprise catches them.<br style="color: rgb(145, 147, 144); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); "><br style="color: rgb(145, 147, 144); font-family: Verdana, Tahoma, Arial, 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif, Georgia, Courier, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; background-color: rgb(38, 37, 35); ">

It was just the sound of a breathe that catches Sauros midstep and cause Sartaq and Kipchak to crouch, hands upon the polearm of the bardiches. Out of the darkness of a room that laid open in front of them came a short man, dust particles swaying out of his thick and grimy facial hair; yet the man seemed to emit a sense of knowledge and well being. Sartaq and Kipchak turn slowly to realize that Sauros stood mouth agape, a grin slowly crinkling across his cheeks. 'You took this long to seek the ancestor's brother oh Subudai?' claimed the man, his fists now resting atop the small curve of his masculine hips; gazing at Sauros with a smirk. 'Yoo' ah' one of tha' Dervas... the Oral Tradition is once more correct, indicative that my ancesturs saw mawch' reasun' fur' me to find yoo'r kind.', Sauros replies and places his left fist into right palm and bows respectfully. 'Subudai, our bloodlines have nevertheless brought us close, perhaps in the nick of time, for I do grow severely old", the Dervas says emphatically, with a weak smile as he glosses his eyes over the symbols drawn and hewn into the walls of the monument, "Subudai, I am the last of my kind, much has happened here. Saddening that we felt no true need to seek communication with your kind and the Hanseti until it was too late, a land grave we chosen to brave the elements, yet we have failed albeit all the knowledge sought we endeavored".

Bighead - "Who Am I?"

“Who am I,” I yell into the darkness. “Who am I,” the wall echoes back. What am I doing here?” “What am I doing here,” the wall echoes back again. “Am I talking to myself?” “Am I talking to myself?” God I hate big empty rooms that are pitch black, I wonder if anyone is in here? “Hello?” I hear hello again in my voice. “By the Nether just, SHUT UP!” “No.” I jump at the sound of the man’s voice; at least I think it’s a man. I can’t see him. “Oh crap,” I walk backwards and run into a wall. Clad in midnight black the hooded man steps from the shadows; approaching me I grab a piece of rock off the wall and swing it around aiming for his skull. The rock hits the man, but the rock disappears and my hand hits the man’s cloak. My hand goes limp from an electrical shock and my arm drops, pulling me down with it. “Tsk tsk, such beauty wasted on a terrible girl like you.” He leans in as he says this; grabbing me by the throat he lifts me above him. I finally catch sight of his eyes. They are pale blue; so pale they reflect what light is allowed in through the door. There is also a familiar look to them but I couldn’t tell what it is. I gasp in pain and shock. A sudden realization has come to me, this man is holding me by the throat and I can’t speak; he isn’t really a man, his hands are covered by gloves but it is still obvious what they are made of, they are made of bones. In the few seconds it took me to process this he has already set me down on the bed and is telling me what I am supposed to do. I hear none of it, as I am already thinking of a way to escape.

Working my days away into dust, I do my duties as they are asked of me. I continue to work for these hooded men, but I have yet to see that one with the blue eyes, he has not shown himself since that night in the black cell. At first a few of my cell mates try to speak with me but I completely ignore them and head to a corner, where my only friends are the mice that scatter at my approach. One of the elderly prisoners, who is a dwarf, tells me, after a few days, of my entrance into the keep a few weeks into my imprisonment. “Ye were carried in by one of t’ose ‘ooded men; ‘e be havin a red fur fringe we all call ‘im Kyluth, ‘e t’en t’rew ye into t’e black cell. You were t’en presumably tortured, due to t’e screams, and t’en were laid out on one of t’ese ‘ere wooden pallets.” My only question was, “Did he say anything about my name? Did anyone say my name before?” “Nay, if ye be wantin to be talkin wit’ someone ye might try Worend.” I head over to this Worend, he looks away from the group that he was talking with and stares at me, he had this look like…he knew something. As I approach he grins and asks, “You want to know who all these people are?”

“Yah, just a bit. How did yo…”

“I know things, come on let me show you everyone here.” He leaps off heading for a group of people. I slowly approach, say “Hello” to everyone before Worend introduces them to me. They all look over. I see a few humans sitting with some elves, and three dwarfs sit off to the side. “Hey guys,” Worend starts off saying, “This is the new girl, and she is going to start to work with us. Hey, Enelia you listening?” I jerk around at the name, wondering if it is mine. It must have shown on my face because Worend says “That is your name, just so you know. Well anyway we have Ayew (female elf), Marim (male elf), Drage (male dark elf), Camilsa (female human), Danorm (male human), Ardock (male human), Brackold (male dwarf), Boquapen (male dwarf), and Urnver (male dwarf). These will be the new friends you will get to know while you have time to think.”

“Think,” I wonder what does he mean by that? Before I can ask him though, he walks off. I start to head off to the corner I’ve been sleeping in. But before I can sit down against the wall, Ayew calls out “Hey, Enelia why don’t you come sit over here with us.” Seeing no choice in the matter I head over to the group where Ayew is sitting. With her are the humans and the other elf. As I sit down I realize how quiet it is. Sitting in complete silence, I glance around. I notice that Marim prefers the company of the human female, Camilsa. Danorm and Ardock seem fine talking with one another. And Ayew is, content with her own little world. After a few minutes of wood rocking and fire crackling, Danorm looks right at me and says, “What are you doing here? Why are you here? What are you thinking?”

“I-I honestly don’t know why I’m here.” I start, “I woke up in a room all by myself and… a strange man came in and started talking to me. I tried to kill him…”

“Kill ‘em? Like we haven’t thought of that already. Old Deleto was thrown to the zombies for trying to kill one. Jumped right on one’s back with a knife, it never got close. The frickin guy turned and grabbed our guy’s throat. He practically squeezed the life from him. If Esséluth hadn’t stepped in we would have had a bloody carpet.” Ayew screams out, “Stop Scaring Her! She just got here, are you trying to make her leave?!” She then stood up and sprinted away from the group, Marim says “Someone should go get her.” He then stands up slowly from Camilsa’s side and walks after her.

“Now what was the real reason for making her leave,” I ask. “What else,” he says in a hushed tone, so quiet I need to lean in, “We want to get out of this hell hole. Never really felt like we had enough talent or people,” looking over at me, “I know that is what you want, you want to get out of here.” I am shocked that he would suggest such a thing, even though he is right. “What if I do,” I ask, “What if I do want to leave? What’s going to happen?”

“Terrible things child,” a cold, dead voice calls from the corner. Jumping out of our seats, the group I am sitting with turn around and stare at the newcomer. He wears a black robe that clings to his skeletal figure as he walks towards us, the purple around his face giving the eyes a sickly glow. “Terrible things indeed. Look around you, everyone here are dead on their feet. You have no chance of escaping small one.” I do look around; I do see the hopelessness of my situation. I have no chance of escape with those near me. But then I see Marim walking back with Ayew, I notice the way he carries her back to the fire. My hopes rise for a bit until I turn back to the hooded man, and see those eyes of his that sickly glow almost kills me. “I told you, didn’t I?” He then raises his voice, “All of you go to bed now or I’ll send out the dogs.” As we all head towards our rooms I turn around and the man is staring at me. Those eyes go right through me as he walks backwards into the shadows. I blink and those eyes disappear. I go to my pallet and think on what just happened. I fall asleep with those eyes invading my dreams.

“C’mon Enelia we have to get through here before they know we left.” Ayew calls out. I scurry along the ground behind Ayew heading towards a cavern of some sort which the dwarfs have hallowed out and have been doing work unknowing. As I step into this cavern I gasp at the marvel of the size of the place wondering how they made this without the hooded men knowing. One of the dwarfs approach. “So what do ye think, impressive right. Built t’is in a few weeks.” I had to admit it was impressive. The size of it was astounding; it was obvious that it was built by dwarves. “Follow me, t’ere be somet’in I be wantin to show ye.” He leads me through the area and takes me to a room off to the side. Opening the door he ushers me inside. It is extremely dark in there, I can hardly see anything. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see a glow towards the back of the room. Almost like two glowing eyes. I back against the wall as the two lights approach. I see armor glinting from the sides and swords, axes, and hammers shine on the walls. “Hail Enelia, I be Brackold, I started t’is ‘ere cave w’en I came ‘ere. T’ese be t’e weapons I ‘ave crafted. T’ey be yers if ye lead us out of ‘ere.” I am not as surprised as I thought I was, “I shall,” I mutter in a louder voice, “I will lead you out of this place.”

“Good, t’en ye might as well suit up, t’e Undead be ‘ere now.” Drage walks up from behind us, in a suit of mail with a sword sheathed at his waist. “Might want that coat of mail, would hate for that nice face of yours to get hurt.” I ignore what he said and throw the coat of mail on right as a sound approaches my ears. I wheel around and see a flesh eaten zombie walk through the door. I grab the nearest sword and plunge it through the zombie’s skull. As his body goes limp another walks through the door. “Guys I need some help in here,” I scream out. Hearing grunts of pain I make my way over to the door where I see Brackold and Drage fighting off a horde of zombies. As I watch a zombie walks up to Drage and bites his arm. Drage knocks it down and shoves his sword through its brain, pulling it out he then advances upon another one. Brackold wearing his smithing clothes, he wields a hammer smashing in the zombies heads. “What’s going on here?” Ayew asks from around the corner. I yell at her to leave but she turns the corner and seeing the wretched beings she screams and runs away.

I run in too help Drage and Brackold, as the numbers die down Drage is suddenly stabbed by a horrid pig like creature. Brackold and I kill it receiving a few wounds from the gold sword he carried. Ignoring my own wounds, I hurry over to Drage’s side. Setting his head in my lap, I wipe away the red foam coming out of his mouth. He mutters something and I have to lean in as he says it again. “We kne… ong abou… See Essel…” He then erupted in a coughing fit where he coughed up his lungs onto the floor and died, in my lap, blood flowing from his mouth and stomach wound. Grabbing Brackold, I head towards the exit of the cavern, where I find Ayew, huddled in a corner bawling her eyes out. “Shh they are gone now. You don’t need to cry.” She stares at me like I’m a stranger. ”NO! Everything is not alright, Drage died! How can things be alright?”

“Let’s go out to the main room.” She runs her nose across her sleeve and nods. As I lead Ayew through the tunnel to the dungeon where we live, a hand shoots out from an alcove. Before I could scream a hand closes over my mouth. I turn around and there are two pale blue eyes that I have seen before. My eyes widen in shock as I see who it really is. It’s Esséluth.

“Shut up and do what I say if you don’t want to die.” I see no choice but to follow. After going down a few random passages, with Ayew in tow. We arrive upon a gateway of some kind. He turns around, pulls down his hood and stares me in the eyes. My thoughts bring up memories long gone from my mind and Ayew gasps in horror as she sees this scene unfold. For standing in front of me is a skinnier and bonier version of myself. “Do you see the truth?” Esséluth asks. “Do you see who I really am. I am you Enelia. This whole time I have been watching you, making sure you go where you need to go, meeting who you needed to meet. Now, how could I possibly be you? Well here’s what happened.”

“Back in Aegis, about a year ago we were out playing hide and seek with some friends. But we decided to go past the boundaries our parents chose for us. While we wandered through the woods a being was following us. He slipped a poison dart from the lining of his cloak. Pressing the blowgun to his lips the dart left the tube, flew through the air and hit us in the neck. As we fell, he came running up to us calling for his other cloaked friends. I do not remember the next part, but we awoke in a town made of this item called netherrack or hellstone as I call it. There was a debate on what would happen to us. They spoke of sacrificing and a god named Iblees, but we would have none of it. The higher members of the town decided to throw us into a portal such as this one,” gestures behind him, “Our soul was then torn in half, one side wanted to go and the other didn’t and that was what caused our soul to split. Now we have a chance to become one again, if we go through there at the same time we will be one again.”

Looking at the portal he tells me, “We are in hell at this very moment, going through there will bring us back to Aegis.” Stepping up to the portal I tell Ayew to go through and wait for me. She nods and steps into the portal. I then follow with Esseluth at my side. I live a normal life from then on but I am plagued by nightmares from my time in Hell.

Visualjaw - "Dune"

Vaius’ dream was turning for the worse. Before, he had been jigging and dancing around the streets in Renatus, swigging mead and chasing maidens while music played sweetly. The women asked how many monsters he had slain, and the men respected and looked up to him. Then the women had stopped talking and the music halted its mirthful journey. The acrid, gritty smell of smoke scratched its way into Vaius’ nostrils, and he choked and coughed on the fumes. The street and people in front of him began to fade, the sights and sounds dimmed as Vaius was pulled out of his slumber.

Vaius was being shaken by someone. He was still drowsy from his sudden awakening, and couldn’t make out who wanted him. Suddenly, his eyes focused on the person in front of him and he jumped. An orc was shouting into his face, demanding something of him in orcish. Vaius tried to run but the orc was lifting him up off the ground, and Vaius’ feet were kicking air. Without warning, the orc threw him down, and Vaius’ head cracked the wooden floor sharply. His mind suddenly jumped awake. He was on duty in the Renatus gatehouse, and must have fallen asleep at his post. The tower was filled with smoke, and Vaius turned and looked down upon Renatus from the tower. Houses, markets and even churches were aflame, and the sounds of screaming and orcish grunts could be echoed up to the tower. Vaius spun back to face the orc, and found that three orcs had cornered him, not one.

The orc pushed him back against the wall again, and spat into his face. Vaius grabbed his sword and swung blindly, wiping the spit out of his eyes. The orc grabbed his sword arm and twisted it, forcing Vaius to drop the blade. The orc spoke;

‘Dare challenge tha Krughai!? Latz be skah’d!’

The orc swung a heavy fist into Vaius’ face and he felt his nose break, sending him sprawling back. The two other orcs and laughed. Vaius was leaning against the side of the tower now, with one arm dangling over the edge. The first orc rushed at him once more, and Vaius braced himself. Just as the orc reached him, Vaius spun and shoved the orc off the tower using the orc’s own momentum. The orc cried out something in orcish and his limbs kicked and grabbed frantically at nothing as he fell down onto the cobbled road below. The paving stones cracked as the orc crashed into them, his armour making a dull metallic noise upon impact.

Vaius glanced back at the other two remaining orcs. They were both advancing slowly, growling as they did so. Vaius panicked, and searched for an escape. He glanced down out of the tower, and saw the fountain. He doubted whether it was deep enough, but having no choice, he hastily leaped from the tower just as the orcs grabbed for him. Vaius was weightless briefly as he descended down towards the fountain, his clothes billowing around him and the wind whistling pat his ears. Then, with a sudden, freezing embrace, Vaius hit the surface of the fountain.

Everything went eerily quiet when he was under the surface, and a sense of serenity and calm came over him, until he hit the bottom of the fountain. Vaius screamed with pain, and clutched at his shoulder, which had collided with the bottom of the fountain. Blood seeped from beneath his recruit uniform; he must have been cut from the sharp mosaic stones on the bottom of the fountain. Painfully, he began to swim for the surface. He breathed out and let loose a torrent of bubbles, which raced to the surface ahead of him.

Vaius broke the surface gasping for air, and coughed up some inhaled water from his lungs. He brushed past a body floating in the water, without looking at it. He couldn’t bear to see if it was someone he knew. Without hesitating any further, he clambered out of the fountain and staggered towards the keep. The streets were filled with smoke and fire, and he passed fleeing citizens and a few orcish attackers. He even thought he glimpsed a black cross on the uniform of an orc. Renatus was shrouded in chaos and bloodshed. He was determined to reach the keep however, as his sister worked as a handmaid there. He had to make sure she was okay.

He reached the steps up to the keep without problem, and hurriedly scurried up them. He slipped once or twice on the bloodstained steps, and his shoulder continued to bleed profusely. He reached the keep doors and leaned on them, and they groaned at Vaius as they swung slowly inward. He stumbled down the entrance corridor towards the throne room. Paintings and tapestries were ripped, banners were bloodstained, windows were smashed and furniture was strewn across the dirtied rugs. Vaius shuddered and quickened his pace.

He heard shouting and the clash of blades and armour as he neared the throne room. He could make out the voice of his guard captain, and incoherent orcish shouts and grunts. He skidded to a stop in the doorway of the room, aghast at the chaos before him. Four orcish Krughai were assaulting Vaius’ captain and the two guards with him. King Tarus himself was fighting off a dark hooded figure, that seemed to buzz with energy. Vaius retrieved a Krughai axe from a dead warrior and was about to join the fray when Tarus was struck down. Simultaneously, the captain had a sword plunged into his chest by a frenzied Krughai warrior.

Vaius immediately rushed over to Tarus, but was thrown back by some unknown force. He saw the dark figure raising a hand toward him, and Vaius realised that the figure must be a mage. The fables were true. Vaius was lifted off the ground and held suspended in the air by the mage’s power. Vaius felt his blood beginning to boil and his skin burning up. His vision faded, and Vaius was on the verge of blacking out when a white figure smashed through a stain-glass window, and into the throne room. With one deft movement of their hand the Krughai were thrown back and Vaius was released. He slumped to the floor, covering his face from further attacks. The white figure rose slowly, and turned to face the dark mage.

‘Who are you?’ rasped the dark mage.

The white figure drew back her hood, and stared back at the mage with piercing amber eyes.

‘My name is Freya the Frost Witch, but you can call me Freya.’

A bolt of pure, crackling lighting shot towards Freya. Freya held her arms up in the shape of a cross and the lightning deflected away from her. She then spun and cast orbs of jet blue energy at the mage, who shielded himself in a cloak of flames. Freya sprinted forward and leaped acrobatically towards the mage. She drew out a silver scimitar before she landed, and it gleamed brilliantly as she deftly sliced it through the mage’s neck. His head hit the floor with a dull bump, and his body followed with a considerably louder bump.

Freya sighed and turned to Tarus, he was unconscious but still breathing. She surveyed the room, and saw Vaius to be the only one still moving. She strided toward him and offered her hand to help him up off the floor.

‘C’mon. This is some mess and I’ll be damned if I’m clearing it up’.

Jibuis The Grey - "The First King of the Empire"

A long while ago, before the discovery of plasma, in the early years of the magic revolution, there was a soldier by the name of Takaie who served the great city of Korkat. Korkat was a very minor planet, very close to Raktoria, the proud home of Saktors Academy. The guard was a want to be wizard, who had saved up his entire life for a one way trip to Raktoria. Now before the invention of Starships there was a connection of portals which were opened with gold and stone. Gold was a rare commodity and extremely hard to get. Gold was imported from the mines of Squaleia, where thousands of miners worked, and gold was hardly ever to be found, on average 10 kilograms of gold were found every month. The guard needed a sponsor, badly in order to get to Raktoria. He went to talk with the Major Jeferia. “Please Major! Cant you get a word in with the governor?” Takaie said.. “Quit your dreaming, you lazy bug, youve never done anything helpful you coward! Now im going to count to 10 for you to get out of my barracks”. Takaie was deeply dishearteaned “Thats it! I must write to.. He was stopped by a poster lying on the great oak tree by the barracks. CALLING ALL WARRIORS, THEIVES, SNITCHES, MUGGERS, THUGS, GARBAGE,GANGSTERS,GUARDS,SOLDEIRS, A competition to earn a ticket to Raktoria! The poster read. “Theres my Ticket, i need to enter, lets get training!. He set off, watching the area around him, mogwarias darted between the trees, insects crawled through the grass. Takaie searched for something for him to fight, nothing could be found within miles. He desparatly searched, but to no avail. He was determined and went to the Crusty Fert. He entered and slapped the first person in sight and said “Come on i want a fight right now.”

The man chuckled and threw him out the tavern, where a mysterious man was standing over him. “You pompous idiot!” the man said, giving him a good kick and helping him up.”You want ta train? Ye can come wit me” the man said. Takaie got up and said, “Look here! Im in a bad mood and i just want a bloomin ticket to Raktoria!!!. The man was very patient and calm, waiting for the right moment to address the man, he took out from his pocket a shining ingot of gold, and held it to the man. Takaie grasped and tryed to get it, but the man closed the hand and held firm. “ No, first give me something for it”. Takaie searched his pocket desperately and only found a few bronze coins. “Curses! Now will you bugger off and let me get my gold!” Takaie said, still searching his pocket for something to give the man. “Go to the forest again boy and get everything from the 10th tree on the right corner, first left turn then go straight ahead. The man handed Takaie a peice of parchment which had all the directions on it. The man slapped Takaie and walked off. Takaie started walked, looking at the now busy village. When the major held his stick and blocked him. “Your not going anywhere”. Takaie looked at the major and said “ Go die in a pit of snakes you fool!”. The major said “Consider yourself being exiled from the order!, Ive ad enough of ye! The major bellowed. Takaie honestly didn’t care, he was going to resign anyway. He headed to the tree, it was a very small brich bush covered in fruits of gold. He picked a few gold ingots put them in a sack which he had bought. He searched for the man in every corner of the street Oh where is he? Cant he just be here!”. The man suddenly approached behind him. “Are you looking for someone” the man said. “ Yes i am kind si-“ And he turned around and there was the man he had met earlier. “ What did you find?”. Takaie held out the 3 gold ingots. The man threw him stone and said now make your dream true. Takaie thanked the man and headed to the portal. “ He threw everything in and he was travelling somehow. He felt like wolves were ripping his face. He landed in a great plain with mountains ahead of him and a row of trees facing him. He looked around, finding falling fruits of diamond, he was alone. This was awkward. He walked and faced a wall with many guards and archers stationed. He beckoned to the guards, “ I am a guardsman from the other world! I want to go to-“ Before he could say anymore a wild lion-like monster attacked him and knocked him into a daze. He was transported into a landscape which shall be described. Purple and Gold and Blue dizzed around, mighty pillars of iron, suddenly the floor turned into water, to magma, to every single thing which we can imagine and even beyond that. Materials which were not discovered to man unfurled. Tertoritium Ore, Plasma Ore, Materila which reveaed before him, it was giving him some sort of odd feeling, like something had happened, like he was reading the future, but he was just..!. Before anything else could happen he found himself facing a short stout man wearing a crown of fruit and gold. “What and who is this idiot who thought he could waltz up to our gates and get in?”. The mysterious important looking man said to one of the soldiers. “U.u.u.u.u.u.u.u.u.u.u.mm Wwwwell i was going to find this, um whats the name of that academy?”. “Another one of those fairy dreaming guards from that other planet,. The man said with a deep sigh.”Well its 10 thousand furlongs to the west, but... before you go, you have to meet oneof the representatives of the academy. “ I honestly really want to know, as this is a magic uprising and.. i could stay ahead of the game, even make an empire! A grand bed mpire that will last for Billions of Dynastys!.”Just go back to bed you madman, the represantive will see you soon. And so he dreamt an uncomfortable sleep,troubled by what he saw. When he woke up in the morning the sun was just rising.

At about 5 a.m he woke up, and he heard a wizard coming up. He was a short sturdy dwarf, coming from who knows. “Ello, ye want to learn yer magicks Said this sturdy dwarf. “Just basics, no adventures. ”Alright ye will ave to elp the city in som way.The king stepped up and said to him,” i need you to be a prime minister or summthing”.” Alright this place needs a citadel, a bit more of this...”. “Just cut it short talk less please”. And a group of builders came along, and well i could go on about the wonderful things that he had done, but the king did not like it at all.” Youve ruined my country! Just go to that academy GO! “. The man walked away in shame, but little did he know this was the way to kingship. He travelled through what he thought was what he head heard from the fables of old, the first man (Saktor) to pass through the pass! He revelled in glory, travelling till he reached an almost mystical great academy. He showed his pass to the guard and was let in. Just as he was walking a wizard came up to him and took him to Saktors office. “Now your not a wizard, sorry i can tell, but you are on the path to Kingship, i will send you to Minion class, that is my desicion, 7th corridor on the left, turn right then go straight then take the second right and go to room 27. “Alright....”. And so he followed these confusing instructions and reached an old golem. “ Now sit down son.. We were talking about the emphasis of creatures. And so many creatures were discussed the radkert, the qasdeg, the befert, and the rare teredium. Many rare and obscoure monsters were discussed, it was many months before he could even summon an insect. Now minions are not saying Come forth and some big monster appears, no infact 99.999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999 percent of wizards only learn to summon radkerts and some other minions. But he did well and before long he could summon an imp, then a ragwert then finally he discovered something amazing.. something which was almost human.. These were evil minions, towerful radical creatures which only required leadership, very sophisticated and tough. He summoned one, but he ended up summoning 500. This was the start of the evil minion empire. One day he was called to Saktors academy, he handed him a book of spells, and how to use them and when. “ Congratulations, Here have the small planet near us,it should suffice for you, i will send you a bit of money and resources. And so a new empire started, great and powerful in its might, growing and having disputes, wizards were trained. But there was one evil minion. “ Oy! I found this bluish ore!” This was to be plasma ore”. But that is a story for when Takaie finally grows power..

THE END.

Weeberlore - "Ghost of the Singing Maiden"

The morning came as usual. Darkness diminished, animals rose to graze upon grass, and the citizens of Branborough awakened to begin a long day of work. While the majority of the town’s Halflings farmed or tended to the Vale’s vast population of sheep, Rill Hollowmead sat inside of his home, writing a small poem.

As his fancy quill scratched to and fro, Rill’s rhymes began to form. “What rhymes with yell?” he thought. “Ah, fell! Never mind, forget it.” Rill concluded. This went on for hours, from the crack of dawn to the late hours of the afternoon. Needless to say, he delved into the sugars of cake and sweetness of melons while he wrote, and he even smoked his fancy pipe for a good deal of time. The important thing is, Rill finished it.

The usually cheery Halfling was at work crating a poem that would be used to keep Branborough’s children indoors at night. Rill titled his work The Ghost of the Singing Maiden. It follows the tale of the ghost of a young Halfling lady who spends her evenings haunting the town’s residents. The poem states that a Halfling is only safe if he or she is inside his or her home by nightfall. If not, the ghost will stalk them, singing as she does so, and drown them in Branborough’s river.

Rill read his poem repeatedly, until he was satisfied. It reads:

She had no name,

She owned no fame,

Alas, she was sad when she died.

They heard her voice,

They heard her noise,

Then she drowned in the river wide.

No being found her body,

Never to be seen again,

Nobody even looked for her,

Because she had no friends.

Years passed and time moved on and on,

This girl came back and haunted,

Until the hour of dawn.

They say she’s very spooky,

With skin as white as snow,

And if you shall stay up at night,

Then you will surely know.

She will find you,

She will bind you,

With ghostly spider-string,

She will take you to the river,

And then begin to sing.

Her voice is high and piercing,

Not something you want to hear,

Her voice, so high and piercing,

Will fill your heart with fear.

She’ll toss you in the river,

And to the bottom you will go,

No place to run, no place to hide,

You’ll be killed, as she already knows.

So stay alive for one more night,

Stay at home in sheer delight,

Eat your cakes and go to bed,

Or go outside and soon be dead.

Rill was very happy with his work. He would supply any parents in Branborough with a few copies the next morning. But, as evening was beginning to arrive, the Halfling decided to make a kettle of tea and to go promptly to sleep. He set a tea kettle above his fireplace, and thought, “Today was grand! I got nearly everything done. All I need now is a bit of rest.” And Rill walked to his bed, embracing the coziness and comfort that it had to offer. Nearly immediately, he slipped into unconsciousness. What he found there was not enjoyable.

Rill’s dream included the drowning of many Halfling children, by the woman of his literacy’s creation. Children he knew, and children he did not know were killed. Each murder concluded with the piercing wail of this ghostly wench. As the final child was killed, and the wail arrived, Rill woke up.

To his astonishment, the wailing was only the tea kettle that Rill had left above the fire. The fool had left it on, and fallen asleep before he could tend to it.

The Halfling ran out of bed and fixed the high whistling, let it cool down, and enjoyed a cup of tea. He even ate a soft slice of cake left over from the morning. Rill rested in his luxurious chair while he did this. With a full belly, he decided that he better return to his bed. As he stood from his soft chair, his eyes drifted towards his window.

Rexdog1 - "Prey for a Good Hunt"

Sweat dripped down my forehead and into my eyes, forcing me to blink. My arm shook violently, the sore muscles threatening to buckle under the strain. I forced myself to focus. Calmly, I released the bowstring, freeing the glistening silver arrow to sail into the heart of its unsuspecting victim. The beast thrashed about, directing his feral amber eyes toward my location. It was too late, however. The colossal cave trembled with one last deafening howl, and the werewolf fell dead.

Should be the last of them, I concluded. The entire cave was littered with their mangled carcasses. Torches hung from the walls, illuminating the gore that I had created. Each monstrosity had been brought to their appropriate demise. I sheathed my bow and began my departure. Hunting monsters was no easy occupation, but someone had to do it. After a murder was reported in the outskirts of my town, news of a werewolf den quickly traveled through the populace. It had to be taken care of, or more innocent people would have died.

As I stepped through the mouth of the cave, I was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. I looked up and beheld the full moon, mesmerized by its beauty. I inhaled deeply. The surrounding forest was silent but for a few select night prowlers, hunting their prey. I listened intently to these creatures, their footsteps barely distinguishable even in the hushed forest. The footsteps grew louder, stealthily creeping closer, and closer. A twig snapped in the distance. My pulse quickened. My fingers glided toward the hilt of my knife, gripping it firmly. I quickly scrambled in the direction of the noise, taking care to move as silently as possible. A cold shiver traveled up my spine as a low, guttural growl emanating from behind me stopped me in my place.

An immense, shaggy paw knocked me to the ground, leaving me gasping for air. I turned to face the largest werewolf I had ever seen, preparing its next blow. I quickly rolled out of the way, cringing as I heard the werewolf’s paw slam into the ground, a blow which would have surely killed me had I not moved. I reached for my knife, rigidly grasping its hilt. I slashed at the monsters legs. It staggered backward and glared at me, its eyes filled with insatiable rage. I scrambled to my feet. The wolf stood across from me, its bulging muscles protruding through its filthy brown fur. I lunged at its chest with my knife, traveling through skin and flesh before finally entering the heart. The great beast roared, turning it’s massive head and plunging it’s fangs into my right shoulder. I grimaced with pain, struggling to free myself from the werewolf’s iron jaw. The beast slowly relaxed its death-grip on my shoulder, eventually falling lifeless. I breathed a sigh of relief, squirming out from under the dead werewolf.

I examined my body. I had been badly bruised, but that was not the main problem. The bite on my shoulder was bleeding profusely, and was excruciatingly painful. I began the process of tearing pieces of cloth to bandage my wounds. I hoped that the werewolf I had just felled was truly the last of them. If not, my town may have to pay the price for my carelessness. Pain shot through my entire being as I stood, preparing to search the forest once more for werewolves. I could not deny the ache of my body, but I could not let my village down.

The sun began to peer through the mountains to the East. After limping through the forest for a few hours, I surmised that I must have finally ridden the forest of the beasts. I began the exodus back to my village, stopping every now and then for a rest against a tree. When I at last reached my destination, the sun was already high in the sky.

As I hobbled along through the dirt roads of my town, the sounds of children playing could be heard throughout. Peddlers yelled, advertising their wares. I walked into the front courtyard of my humble home. I made it back, I realized, stepping through my front door.

Everything was as I left it. Silver weapons were strewn about the table in the main room. Cloaks hung from various hooks in the hall. Paintings of differing scenes and people hung around, giving the home a somewhat tasteful air. The only thing that was out of place was a small letter, held down by a stack of minas, sitting in the center of my stone table. I picked it up, reading the message that was written upon it:

Hello,

I trust you have completed the task. You are the best, after all! You will find that I have left your payment on top of this note.

Yours truly,

Rebeca Winter

I sighed and pocketed the money. The payment was a meager amount for the mental and physical stress that my job thrust upon me. I didn’t care though; at least I tried not to. I walked into my bedroom, and closed the windows to stop the sunlight from filling the small space. I peeled the bloody and torn clothing off my body, and changed into more comfortable garments. I lay on my bed, closing my eyes and slowly drifting into a deep sleep.

My dreams were filled with images of werewolves, tearing people limb from limb. Blood oozed from open wounds, creating terrible pools of gore in the center of the streets. Women screamed. Children cried, wailing for parents that would never come. One horrid event blurred into the next, creating a grim whirlwind of nightmares. It was horrifying. It filled me with rage. Such anger…

I awoke with a jolt. I was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down my forehead. A woman was screaming in the distance. I dismissed it as a continuation of my terrible dream, like a bony hand reaching out from the horror of my lethargy, resisting the force of reality. I sat up in my bed, coming to terms with the abomination I just witnessed. The scream continued. I realized that the scream was in fact genuine. I bolted out of my bed and into the streets toward the scream, determined to discover its origin.

I came upon the woman who fabricated the scream, mourning over a body. As I walked towards her, more villagers surrounded the corpse. I pushed through the crowd to the mangled cadaver, wincing at the sight. The woman continued her wail, swaying back and forth. As she moved, I noticed claw marks across the body. There were multiple places where fangs had sunk into the flesh, leaving horrific wounds everywhere on the figure. Its gender was impossible to distinguish. The nature of the murderer was undeniable— it was a werewolf.

“It was a wolf!” someone in the crowd shouted. Gasps of horror traveled through the small collection of people.

How could this have happened? I thought. The forest was rid of wolves. I was positive of it.

“Is there anything, anything at all that could point to who the culprit was?” I said aloud. The crowd turned their faces towards me, staring.

“Only this piece—“ a man said, his voice cutting off suddenly. The entire crowd was focusing their eyes on a large torn section of my tunic. In my rush to reach the screaming woman, I didn’t realize the tear until now.

“Piece of what?” I persisted, slightly annoyed with the crowd. What was the matter? This was important business. Justice was at stake.

The man continued to stare, his face slowly twisting into disgust and apprehension. He lifted up a piece of bloody cloth that matched my tunic perfectly

[Wolf Druid Ouity 1461]

Name mine to something epic like... uh...

"Revenge" or perhaps

"Ouity is better than Lucas" trololololo

hmmmm

"Ouity's Retribution"

Me gusta ^

Reading everyone else's entries now, might edit mine to try to keep up o.o

(P.S: Evelyn, that sotry legitimatly scared me. Y U GIVE IN TO UNDEAD.)

[Samson Option 9652]

Sent the First Section of my Entry to Freya, get ready for a ten-gun salute with this second section coming soon ;)

[Hylian the Heretic 233]

The original post got too long, so i'll post them here instead.

HylianMuffin; Unnamed Story

(Dedicated to Kurt Cobain, leader of Nirvana, February 20th, 1967 - April 5, 1994.)

The hills and mountains were pristine, the birds chirping and frogs croaking. Atop the mountain sat a layer of bright snow, melting in the fading sun. The boy watched from his vantage point on the sand on the shore as the ebb and flow of the water pushed the waves gently onto the shore. As the sun drifted downward and daylight faded slowly, he rose. As he turned, he could see the great valley beneath the mountains and the village within it. He saw the squirrels leaping from tree to tree, the tall, green grass sway in wind, and the clouds drift over him. The air was crisp and cold, but he took no heed. Starting to leave, he felt his toes sink into the balmy sand and the wind blow through his long, shaggy hair. The journey back was not long, but nevertheless, he was reluctant to leave his little hideaway. The sun was almost completely gone now, and the wands growing colder and faster, whipping through the shrubbery. The trees, stripped of their leaves, howled with the gales and the city's lanterns ignited, setting the valley ablaze with a dull glow. The boy scampered down the mountain, afraid to make the journey in full-fledged darkness. In the valley, the small village sat midst the snow. The moon rose, casting a silvery, opal light onto the valley and forest. The boy, arriving at the village turned, and watched the final rays rays of the sun die out, plunging his world into complete darkness. He ran back to his village to find it deserted; it was usually a boisterous, fun place. He decided that they must be out on a trip of some kind. he went to his home, rolled out his mattress and had a good night’s sleep. He awoke the next morning to the distant rumbling of a wagon. He jumped out his window, eager to see the harvests. But there would be no food for him. He saw only an orc driving the caravan. the caravan filled with bound and gagged villagers. Sprinting after it, he tried to keep up, but to no avail; the horses were far to fast. Determined to free them as it was only one orc, he searched for a way to catch up to the horses. He got to the mountaintop and stopped, thinking. He mumbled to himself for a minute and gazed at one of the hollowed out logs. A minute later, he was sitting at the bottom of the mountain, covered in snow, as he considered what he was thinking when he decided to launch himself sliding down a hill in a log. He stood up and shrugged it off; now the caravan was in sight and the horses beginning to tire. Running at top speed, he almost made it to the caravan, but it began to peak over the hill and gain momentum with which he could not catch up. Panting and regaining his breath, he slowly jogged down the hill, able to run no more. After a few more minutes of running it became apparent to him that something was wrong: orcs would never raid a city singularly and leave the buildings intact! As he thought, the land began to level out into a flat plain. Now he could begin to make out an encampment in the distance. he assumed that this was where they had been taken. Rushing faster than ever, he reached the camp within a number of minutes. The wagon was nowhere to be seen, but he heard cries and shrieks from below him. He begun to tear away at the dirt with his hands, but the task proved futile. Many of the tents stood on long poles with flat heads at the end, so he snatched one and began to dig. Within a matter of minutes, he was gazing down onto the prisoners, bound and gagged, with the orc standing in front of them, whispering something. He noiselessly slipped down onto the smooth floor and grabbed the orc from behind, trying to put him in an armlock. The orc grunted and retaliated with a swift blow to the arm, temporarily immobilizing it. From his pack, the orc pulled a rope and bound him to a pillar tightly, grinning. He braced himself for an oncoming attack and upon being hit, blacked out. When he awoke, he could not open his eyes or move, wondering “Am I dead?” The fact that he was not scared of death now shocked him. But he began to feel the excruciating pain in his arm and head, and knew he was alive. He attempted to open his eyes, and they burned in a bright light. He was blinded, and could hear a roaring which was his hearing coming back. As he opened them, he saw the villagers standing around him in a bright room covered in colorful paper. He heard little of what they had been saying, but when he opened his eyes fully, he heard a deafening roar as the townspeople yelled “Happy Birthday!”

Can you rename my story "A Mysterious Surprise"? Thanks!

[Ever 2648]

.w. Can't wait for mine to join the ranks~ Really proud of the community, I think ya'll did a great job. Would love to see all these compiled in-game in a huge library or somethin'.

[Thrym 188]

*reads other entries, gets really scared*

[kurk brak 70]

And I had expected this to be an 'In the Bag' competition. Even though I think mine is the longest (sorry Evelyn, but I beat ya on dis'un), I really like the content of everyone's stories. I'm really likin' dis, and even if I dun win, I'm lookin' forward to seein' who does.

[Alan 1815]

The best laid plans of mice and men...

I read a book based off of that quote...

Then I saw a movie based on the book...

Then I cried when Lennie died D:

[Hylian the Heretic 233]

I read a book based off of that quote...

Then I saw a movie based on the book...

Then I cried when Lennie died D:

Yep. T.T

[Auvreaeath 263]

*Didn't know they could be long

[Taiga 764]

What?

I just wrote something that is about... 30 pages long.

And I looked at these and said to myself, " Did I overdo it...? "

[Auvreaeath 263]

*Sees the Grammar mistake in Freya's Member Title and resists every living thing in his body not to correct it..

Thank you Everybody!

For your wonderful reads!! *Claps