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| Thread: Homm RP and Short Story Contest: Short Story Entries | |
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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted April 03, 2007 10:51 PM |
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Homm RP and Short Story Contest: Short Story Entries
Submit your entries here please.
The main thread can be found here.
Roleplay & Writing Contest: Main Thread
Note: The Rules have been updated. Please read the new rules.
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Go Red Sox!
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wog_edn
Promising
The Nothingness
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posted April 06, 2007 10:04 PM |
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Okey, I am first the entry my town then 
"Deep in the north of Erethia there was mountains told to be spirits of another world. Many had traveled there and never returned, they were lost in the giant mountains of Charnal. The legends said that when the lands of Erethia were built a Warlock Lord lived in these mountains, he was named Brona. Brona led an army of gnomes, giant trolls and humans against the other races. The Arch Angels and the Arch Devils had to work together, and so did the Titans and the Black Dragons. All the forces of the other races merged together and resisted the powerful enemies attack. The Warlock Lord were beaten, and he escaped into the Charnal mountains. 500 years later he returned, he had summoned dark creatures from the Spirit world to his aid this time. He gathered the trolls and gnomes again, but the humans had escaped south to join the dwarves and elves. This time his power was to great, and all the druids and the clerics summoned the dead souls of their own race for help. The dead spirits gave them an artifact more powerful than anything they had ever seen, it was given the name Armageddons Blade. Only that one could destroy Brona and remove him from the world of living. At the battlefield the elven-king named Jerle Shannara faced the Warlock Lord, but in the last moment he hesitated and Brona escaped.
His Emmisaries and the other creatures from the Spiritworld returned in silence more than 1000 years later, and gathered the gnomes and trolls once again. This time they should conquire the world, because this time there were no allies!
Level 1: Gnome Scout (no specials)
Level 1 upg: Gnome Footman (no specials)
Level 2: Gnome Archer (shooter)
Level 2 upg: Gnome Assasin (shooter, double shot)
Level 3: Troll (no special)
Level 3 upg: Giant Troll (reduce enemy defence by 50%)
Level 4: Troll Elite (reduce enemy defence by 60%)
Level 4 upg: Charnal Troll (reduce enemy defence by 70%)
level 5: Giant Bat (flyer, attack and return)
Level 5 upg: Darkness Bat (flyer, attack and return, cast poison)
level 6: --
Level 6 upg: --
level 7: Muten (--)
Level 7 upg: Winged Muten (--)
Level 8: Skullbearer
Level 10: Brona 
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bixie
Promising
Legendary Hero
my common sense is tingling!
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posted April 06, 2007 11:21 PM |
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Edited by bixie at 09:29, 07 Apr 2007.
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just a little story to get your imagination working.
the assualt of Che-kido
"Slyath's name, how long is this gonna take!"
Stormmaw's whining words were carried across the plains. birds scattered from nearby trees, animals stopped to listen, a nearby chackamoor flipped onto its back and died.
"pipe down, fool!" snapped Splintchewer, her fist coming swiftly down onto Stormmaw's face, "its bad enough being on guard duty when my little brother is doing his big part without you complaining." she looked out over the plains again. Stormmaw felt his smarting jaw. despite being smaller than him, Splintchewer was an ogre with a punch. she was known to beat a gargantuan senseless using only her fists when she was in a fighting mood. no-one would have guessed that under her small (only about 9ft tall), roundunt, frame lay a fierce warrior just waiting to leap out. she almost always used knuckle dusters to settle fights, even when she was fighting enemies a lot stronger, she would simple move like the wind, target a soft spot, and hammer home a blow so strong it could shatter stone. she was a wind seeker, and a powerful one at that. he looked over himself. as an accompished thunder breaker, he could relay orders and commands over the din of ogres in battle. He was also a skilled fighter, armed often with two swords slung loosely across his belt.
He looked out over the plains. he could see saber fangs jumping on a group of Keralles, their mane glowing from the light of the sun as they thrust their long fangs into the poor creatures necks. He could see a herd of elofats, lumbering powerhouses of meat, fat, tusk and bad temper, moving slowly across the open stretch of golden savanna. He could see the gracefully asmiphea, the two headed serpentine dragons of Slyath, gliding carefree on the zephyrs and the thermals. He looked back at the town, flags fluttering of the different tribes in the village. He watched as the carnival of ogres reached the main street, carts of young children parading in festive masks and dress. He could see a procesition of wind seekers, inflated, slowly moving in sicronised formation, air escaping from their mouths. He could see the lightning catchers, dancing manically, throwing and catching their long poles. then came the feastmaster, belligrand, herself, with her attendents and students on a huge cart to support the feastmasters immense weight. they were handing out treats, the smell wafting up to Stormmaw's tower. He resisted the temptation of drooling, they always cooked such good meals!
"stop thinking about food" muttered Splintchewer, licking her lips. it was impossible not to think about food for an ogre, it was so deeprooted into their physce. Splintchewer knew this, patting her ample form, but food always tasted so good.
suddenly there was a shout from the goblin in the kite.
"explosion, over there."
"where, Dak!" called Stormmaw.
"see the smoke, idiot!"
Stormmaw looked out over the plain
"black smoke, damn it!
"its the free cities," snarled Splintchewer. she ran to the towers small abode and draged out a small cooking pot of blood. Stormmaw began to untie the little knot to get the defenses ready. it was then he heard the first musket shot. it zinged over head, punching a hole through the skin roof. the second broke the string on the other end of the defences, letting the scroll flop open. Dak the goblin flew down the rope, landing on the floor and picking up the paint brush.
"run to the end!" shouted Splintchewer, clipping Dak's harnes to a running rope along the ramparts. Dak dipped the brush into the gore and ran along the side of the ramparts, the brush trailing along the ground after him, smearing the words with blood. at once, the lightning sheild flew around the city. Stormmaw watched as the shot melted as it hit the sheild. Splintchewer had already started to inhaled. he drew his swords. Splintchewer paused.
"aren't you gonna warn people?"
"sheilds up, i think thats a pretty clear indication were being invaded."
"yep, we arrived in force." came a voice from behind him. he looked round to see apprentice feastmaster rockmuncher who, despite his massive size, had got up their without noticing. he was already beinging to cast a feastmagic spell. Splintchewer had carried on inhaling, by this time her body had become almost spherical. Stormmaw ran over to steady her, before she rolled over backwards.
"thanks"
"you ready"
"yep, roll me over to the edge, then throw me over."
"ok."
Stormmaw rolled her. she made muffled yelps as her head hit the plank flooring of the rampart. he pick her up, he never got used to how light the wind seekers got when inflated, and threw her over the top. as her body sailed through the air, she let out a great whoosh of air, Stormmaw could see trees bending under the hurricane coming from that single windseeker. she fell to the ground with a crunch, closely followed by the sound of her putting on her putting on her knuckle dusters. Stormmaw land beside her, drawing his swords, as thousands of other ogres jumped and landed on the ground.
"ready?"
"you bet!"
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Love, Laugh, Learn, Live.
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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted April 06, 2007 11:33 PM |
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Hey Bixie, do you think you could double space your paragraphs? Would be a lot easier to read since there's no indents.
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Go Red Sox!
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Daystar
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Back from the Dead
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posted April 10, 2007 09:55 PM |
bonus applied by kookastar on 13 Feb 2008. |
Edited by Daystar at 23:43, 07 May 2007.
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Here's my entry:
Wind rippled like ocean tide, Senam’s fair hair sea foam to be tossed about in the gale. The breeze abated, the leaves stopped chattering. For a moment, Senam was motionless a stone, hoping to hear the voice of Sylanna, the Earth Goddess, in the quiet. His pointed ears tingled, trying now to catch even the faintest echo of a voice now, but nothing was forthcoming. With a sigh, the young elf returned to his tome. He stared intently at the measurements of dittany and wormwood, the proper motions to be made over a sprig of Asphodel, each inked not from his lessons taken with meticulous care. He spoke words of power as he gently added the right amount of crushed mistletoe into a bowl, and stirred it together with the soil from the base of a yew tree. Placing it in the east point of his chalked pentagram, he felt he was ready. Muttering a word from an ancient tongue, he, he felt power rising in him.
There is no word for where you feel it, if you feel it inside yourself at all. It’s like wind rising from beneath you, only more solid, or perhaps like speeding through incorporeal water. Whatever the sensation, it was growing stronger in Senam. It was all around him, through him, in him. The power climaxed, and as it did, Senam’s voice shouted, “Weliam anateio fa hasamfa giana jeridea!”
For a moment nothing happened.
Then all at once, a sprout, a tiny sapling, began to push its way out of the soil, leaves growing, roots digging into the earth. Senam had tow work hard not to give a boyish whoop; in fact he did give a relieved chuckle, his face changing from a stern look of concentration to a wide grin. And then the tree, which was about a foot tall, began to wilt. It curved in upon itself, leaves falling off and becoming hard and dry, within moments the tree was dead, and Senam fell to his knees, cheer warped into a sob.
Senam did not know how long he knelt there, face buried in the grass that caressed his pale cheeks, he only knew that after a time, there was a hand on his shoulder. Senam, feeling a salty sting as a tear was dislodged and fell onto his arm, raised his head. The face that looked back at him was full of sympathy, though it gave him a flutter in his near broken heart.
“I feel awful, Tiana,” Senam choked out.
“Well,” she said, speaking slowly and choosing her words with care, “At least a tree grew this time. Isn’t that something?”
“Yes,” Senam replied, “But It feels worse now then when it did not work at all. I feel like I killed that tree, like I brought it into the world only to send it out again.”
“But Senam, It’s only one spell. Look at that thesis you wrote on breaking shield spells, your teacher said half the ideas were brand new to him. Look at that beautiful healing spell you pulled off, you were the first to master it.”
“I can only break and heal other breaks though, I’m supposed to be a Druid,” Senam said, his head slumped across his chest. “Druids should be more connected to life and nature then to speed up what nature would do herself, in time.”
“Are you determined to be sulky?” Tiana asked.
“Yes” Senam replied stubbornly.
Tiana could not help but to grin, despite her friend’s sadness. She sat down beside him and leaned an arm across his shoulders. His head fell against her silky auburn hair. For a moment, nothing moved but the wind, which was gently whispering in their ears. Then
“Tiana, you’ve given me an idea!” Senam said, for he thought she had. “Here, help me set up!”
For a moment the shoulder was silently screaming for Senam’s head to rest on it again, and then it was moving an arm that was arranging a sprig of dittany. Most magical objects had not been changed, so the task of resetting the spell was easy. With a final check to see if everything was appropriate, Senam moved Tiana and himself out of the circle.
“I think I’ve got it right now,” Senam muttered, and, calling again on the magic, he said, “Jeridea fa giana weisa heil un anataio kaelain!”
A tree sprouted up again, and like the first made it to a foot before it started to wither. When it did, however, it blossomed again, pushing up with more magnificence than ever. When it reached three feet it slowed, and began to grow slower, with proud limbs branching out, roots furrowing the ground and starting their exotic dance with the soil.
“It worked!” Senam shouted, allowing himself the whoop of joy he had had in his chest for quite some time. “I combined a healing spell with the core enchantment, and it worked! Thank you Tiana, thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank you!”
“I didn’t do anything though,” the elven lady said as she bent down to examine the new tree, grinning at her friend’s exploits.
“You made me think of a healing spell, I never would have thought of it myself. I’m surprised I could get it to work, though.”
“Well I’m not.” Tiana declared, turning to him and smiling. “I knew you could do it. You can do anything you set your mind to, Senam.” And before he could do or say a thing, she pressed her lips to his cheek. She could feel heat flooding his face just before she skipped away, hair bouncing as the sun began to descend into the horizon.
*~*~*
That night, it all went wrong. Senam was eating in his room, slowly letting the juice of an apple run down his chin. He was pondering much. He told himself that he was pondering the concept of combining spells, and when that stopped working he told himself he was once again trying to connect to the mysterious force some Druids spoke of, a magical field connecting the heart and mind of the forest, but that stopped working to, and he accepted that he was thinking about Tiana. It was a quiet summer night, to early in the year for the insects to spread like poured honey, and to late for midsummer’s night celebrations that had carried on for weeks. Senam was about to consider going for a stroll, perhaps down to the library or out to the Herb Garden to replenish his stock of dittany, when the dreaded sound of a conch shell echoed through the trees. For a moment, all was silent, and then a horrible cry, a shriek in the night like the fields of punishment themselves loosed upon the earth. It was a woman’s cry, a woman’s last cry.
Furry surged through Senam. He knew he was being foolish, there were hundreds of women in the city, but there was still a chance it had been the cry of Tiana, and if so, Senam would avenge her. Her or any member of the city. Fetching both staff and bow, and wondering vaguely which would be of more use, Senam darted out the door, sprinting across the water that separated the small island he lived on from the Home Ash, a beautiful and large tree that housed most of the population. It was on one of the higher bridges, from where you could see most of the west side of the City if you had the right angle, he looked down. Breaking though the gates bellow, scrambling over walls, or even gliding through them, were hosts of the undead. For a moment, Senam could not move in the horrible shock of first seeing undead creatures. Skeletons with badly crafted helmets and swords hacked at the smaller wooden dwellings, vain in their insatiable attack on the little huts. Zombies lurched their way up the streets, swinging clubs and cleavers at those who raced out of burnt or toppled huts, or were chased out by ghosts and other horrible creatures. Warriors wielding swords and battle hammers swung at the creatures, only to find that when broken into pieces they could move into more places.
“Quite an army, no?” said a voice from behind Senam. With a jolt he turned, and there he beheld a huge and malevolent bat. It was grinning, and for a moment Senam was frozen as the bat melted and twisted into the shape of a vampire. The unearthly grace of the horrible creature filled Senam with the same feeling of tingling senses and quivering ears he had come to acquaint with the presence of Tiana, though this time it was far from pleasant. The vampire grinned, a toothy grin that made Senam’s whole body shiver. Numbly at the back of his mind he felt he should do something, like hit the vampire with his staff, or kick him, or do something to stop him grinning in that seductively hungry way. All he could do was watch, however, as the vampire opened his mouth and laughed. The laughter seemed to crack the air; it was so indecent, so evil.
“You know, this is all really unnecessary,” The vampire said as he stopped laughing. “We could change all of you, you know. There need not be so much destruction. A few moments pain, a powerful spell, and everyone here could join our power; join in the eternal beauty of death. I could start with you, even. Would you like that? And just think of it. An elf, already with senses greater than many sentient beings, plus the power of vampirism would be one of the most powerful creatures. You could fly like a bird, live in luxurious manors, and it would never end, you would never grow old, never die. What do you say?”
A voice in Senam’s head was shouting, Say no, Say no! Run, Run, Run, Fight Fight Fight, Killkillkillkillkill! . . . Or at least do Something to get control of the situation! But another voice was tempting him. Eternity, living for that long, with such power. And necromancers are powerful spell weavers, think of the knowledge you could gain! The spells you could master! Without planning it, Senam found himself lowering his staff, found himself nodding, found the vampires cold hands wrapped around his arms. “It will be only a moment of pain,” the Vampire said, “And then you can do anything you set your mind to.” This was the Vampire’s mistake. As it licked its fangs, as it prepared to sink them into his neck, Senam heard the echo of the same words both friend and enemy had spoken.
“You can do anything you set your mind to, Senam.” And before he could say a thing she had placed her lips…”
“Garjalza Jeridea!”
The voice was Senam’s, and though he was only half sure it would, a bolt of lightning jumped from his staff straight into the vampire’s chest. With a shriek it released him, and both staggered back as the force of the spell pushed them apart. The Vampire clutched the posts of the bridge, panting heavily. When he spoke, there was little of the silky tone and sepulchral seductiveness there was before. Instead, the lifeless quality of his undead form showed through. “You are a fool, to refuse my offer, for it will not be offered again. The day will come when you and I will meet again, and that time, your little hocus pocus will not save you!” And without further ado, he became a bat and flapped off. Senam drew his bow and took two shots at the vampire before he lost sight of it, though neither hit.
Senam wanted now more than anything to lie down and rest, but the battle still raged bellow. Running the rest of the length of the bridge he entered the fray, staff swinging back and forth, toppling any foe he met. He finally reached a quiet spot where some of the elders, including his teacher, were quickly discussing battle plans. His teacher looked up as he entered, and without a preliminary ‘Hello’ said, “Senam, go to the school and look after the little ones.”
This was such an unhelpful task that Senam responded indignantly, “The little ones? But sir, I can fight! I’ll go anywhere I’m needed, I’ll –”
“You will do as you are told!” His teacher bellowed, white beard quivering with anger.
“But –”
“Do as you are told!”
“Yes sir,” Senam said disconsolately, and walked off.
*~*~*
There seemed little point in the task. The littluns were quite calm, believing all the shouting to be more festivities like last year’s. A few older ones were a bit feisty, and mildly annoyed about not being let to join, but a few sharp words prevented them from trying to get out. It was insanely aggravating for Senam to hear the sounds of the battle still raging bellow me and not being able to do a thing about it. If I had only been able to fire bolts of lightning into enemy lines, Senam thought, but everything was melee now, he could have hit his own kind just as much as the undead forces. He did at least have a birds eye view of the confrontation, however. Though it was hard to tell in the near darkness, the tide of battle was slowly pushing the necromancers out. With a jolt of fear, Senam saw the Vampire who had spoken to him earlier standing on a burning house, shouting orders to his troops. Arrows and spells flew around him, but he was shielded by a powerful Dark Enchantment of some kind. The worst bit is I think I might know how to get at it, if only I could get in there! I know that kind of shield, that’s one of the ones I studied for my thesis! I know exactly how to break it! Though I suppose others are trying. Two parts Aconitem and Essence of…
Senam’s musing was interrupted was interrupted by a tug at the hem of his robes. Looking down, he saw a small elven girl, no older than seven, holding a teddy-bear and staring up at him beseechingly through wide eyes.
“Yes, Ylthin, what is it?” Senam asked tiredly.
“Master Senam, why does Kamfeial get to go to the party when we do not?” the young elf asked.
“Kamfeial does not get to go to the party,” Senam said blankly.
“Then why did he say he could?”
“I do not know, please tell him not to make up foolish things.”
“I can’t!” The little elf cried in frustration. “You said we weren’t to go outside, and he’s outside!”
“Well then…What?!” Senam said, turning, fully alert now. “He’s gone? When? How? Where?”
“He went down about three minutes ago. I didn’t get him in trouble, did I?”
“No,” Senam said, “You may have helped get him out of it. Stay here, and tell the others not to leave!” Senam grabbed his staff from its resting place by the wall and sprinted down the steps, hastily placing a spell of confinement on the door and hoping he would not have to use much magic. His hope was rather dashed. Kamfeial’s footprints showed the eight year old had gone straight into the fray, at which point they were lost and trampled. Muttering words he hoped no high priest would hear him saying, he put on himself the strongest warding off spell he could think of and prayed he was not about to die from magic exhaustion. He then pushed his way through the mass of fighting bodies, noticing that there seemed less of the undead then there had been before. This gave him a bit of hope, though he still had no idea where Kamfeial was. His run through the crowd was erratic, and in reality he was simply going in the hope of something, anything that would lead him to his missing charge. Eventually he reached a point where the fighting was scattered. Firing a quick round of arrows at the enemies he could, he leaned against a tree to think. Okay, calm down. You don’t know where Kamfeial is. I said calm down! The vampire. You know where the vampire is, and you know how to break his shield. If you can’t find Kamfeial you may as well do that! Senam paused, phrasing the words of the spell he would use, and then spoke the words in his staff. The carved lily on the end glowed a dull blue, and Senam hopped and prayed to Sylanna that he had got the spell right, as he would probably have only once chance.
“Great Sylanna, give me courage, to melodize the unharmonious, to calm the discord, and to put the light in the leaves,” Senam prayed in the ancient custom of his people as he rushed towards the house where he had last seen the Vampire. Vampire Lord, if he commands such armies, Senam thought. I must be mad! Yes, I am definitely mad. I am randomly racing into combat with a potent Undead General, and all I have is a stick with carvings on it. Oh well, should be fun.
Senam reached the house, and fear and relief mingled in his feelings as he saw the Vampire was still there. And then he stopped. He was almost speared, blasted a bolt of magic at the zombie attacking him and then went back to staring in stunned disbelief. Somehow, in some way that not even the mages in the south could have predicted with all their charts and mathematics and calculations of probability, somehow Kamfeial was in he hands of the Vampire. For a heart stopping moment, the young druid looked up at his charge, praying he had not been…turned. He had not. He was struggling, though the monster that held onto him seemed to take little notice.
Come on, do something! He simply did not understand why, assertive in most things, he was suddenly unable to do anything when the vampire was around. And then a memory, a half lost echo from a book he had read when he was younger than Kamfeial, floated from somewhere into his mind.
…And vampire’s aura,
of menace and fear,
freezes the mortals
who approach too near…
He had until now regarded such books as human tales, silly stories to frighten little elves. But now that he felt he knew, he felt the aura falling away, and a new determination filling him. He took a step back, and then ran forward, pushing himself upwards onto the roof of the burning house, noticing dimly that the fire was only a magically constructed illusion. Before his feet hit the unharmed thatch on the roof he fired his spell at the Vampire who had been taken aback by Senam’s abrupt appearance. There was a shattering sound and the aura hanging around the hated Undead lord vanished. Senam felt suddenly much stronger, and a cheer from bellow indicated that some other good had come from the shield’s shattering. While the Vampire took a moment to regain his composure, he spoke with the same sepulchral voice he had first employed.
“Ah, Senam, we meet again. Much sooner than I thought, I admit it, but we meet again. And this little child means a great deal to you, does it not? Let us see, I suppose now you will be wanting him back, no?”
Senam pointed his staff at his opponent, though he had no clear plan as to what he was going to do now. To attack would mean to risk hurting Kamfeial, and that was something he could not do. He decided to bluff it out though, and said, “Stop reading my mind, it was far creepier the first few times, but now it is just an old hat!”
The Vampire’s eyes narrowed. “An old hat, is it? Well, I doubt that you know that I was planning to spend some money on new apparel, these are last life’s garbs, you know, but perhaps I could instead help set this little child up with a small manor and a Succubus I know.”
“That’s Not…Completely disgusting…He’s eight years old, for Sylanna’s sake! He’s hardly old enough to wave a wand, let alone, well, er…He wouldn’t know what to do with a succubus!”
“And you would?”
“Kill it on sight, of course!”
“Come now, some of them are quite talented at–”
“Shut up! How did I get into this discussion? Cut the chatter and put Kamfeial down!” Senam, trying still to think of a way to keep Kamfeial from death, or a worse fate, could not help but notice another wave of reinforcements on the horizon.
“You seem annoyingly persistent,” The Vampire said, with a hint of aggravation slipping in between his sepulchral speech. “Very well, if you are going to be a conversation killer, then I will be forced to cut to the chase.”
“Then you’ll let him go?” Senam said, taken aback.
“After I have made him one of the bloodthirsty brethren, of course.” The vampire said, and proceeded to bend toward Kamfeial’s neck.
“No! Don’t! Please, I’ll do anything!” Oh, fires of Sheogh! Worst choice of words I could have used! A smile and a gleam in the Vampire’s eyes showed Senam that he had made a very deadly mistake indeed.
“Anything? You would do anything for the child?” And the vampire began laughing, laughing so horribly that Senam was surprised the world was not breaking at the seams. He began once again to feel the dark aura around him, the creeping feeling of decay and loss. No! Nonononono! Say no! “Er…”
“That’s what I thought. Your high elder is in the highest room on the tallest branch of your home ash. Kill him, and I let the little one go at once.”
“But, but, but, but I, what… You can’t expect me to kill my leader! My liege lord, my protector my, my, my king!”
“Oh, no, I can’t. But you can. You can cause the death of your king, or you can condemn the little one to eternal destruction. Your choice, and I’m waiting for an answer.”
Senam waited for a moment, though he knew his response was inevitable. Eventually, after finding no way to avoid it, said, “Fine. I’ll do it, but the little one will not be harmed, and you will let him go the moment I come back?”
“I can see I am pinned down. All right, I will let him go, and he will not be harmed before then. You have two hours before the little one passes into eternity, so you better move fast.”
*~*~*
“What!?” Elnair exploded as Senam explained his predicament. “You can’t honestly expect me to just stand still while you kill me!”
“I know, I know, I messed up,” Senam started, “But-”
“Messed up? Messed up! You didn’t just mess up; you’ve made a right [unmentionable words] of it!”
“I know, but-”
“And the problem is, if I don’t let you just kill me, I will be known forever as the elf that stood aside and let one of his civilians be taken into the ranks of the necromancers! What in the name of Sylanna do you expect me to do about it?”
“I-”
“No, don’t speak. I’ll summon your teacher; he will know what to do about you.”
“No need,” Said a deep voice from the doorway. Magnificently resplendent in a twelve pronged antlered helm of the deer with a staff glowing like green fire, Senam’s teacher bowed through the door. This was not out of any particular reverence, he was almost of the same standing as King Elnair, but because his deer headed helm was too large for the door frame. “I have been listening, and it seems clear what must be done.”
“If you are going to favor your student in an attempt to gain the throne-” Elnair started, but was cut of as Tailnel said, “On the contrary, it is best for all if you do die, King Elnair.”
A very, very loud silence (save the interminable battle below) resonated in the room. Then Senam said, hesitantly, “You think it would help, sir?”
“It would not help us directly,” Tailnel said, “But I do have a plan. There lies somewhere in Ashan The Book of Life, which teaches the secrets, among other things, of resurrection, though for the spell to work the body will need proper preparations. My plan is as follows. Senam, you will put this poison-” here he removed a small vial from his robes “And administer it to your mead, my king. You will drink it, and die almost at once, with only a small ache in your throat. We will smear pig’s blood on a sword, and Senam will present the sword to the Vampire. The vampire will release the child, and once he is vulnerable again, we will shoot him. The battle should be ended not long afterwards, we have reinforcements coming from the west. Tomorrow, you, Senam, will set out with a contingent of troops to find The Book of Life. We will use its secrets to resurrect you, King Elnair, and all will be normal. You, my king, will benefit from this because you will be hailed as a hero who sacrificed himself for a child. Senam, you will benefit because you will not be killed for letting a vampire kill a child.”
“Are we talking about The Book Of Life spelled capital T-h-e capital B-o-o-k capital O-f capital L-i-f-e, or the book of life spelled T-h-e capital B-o-o-k o-f capital L-i-f-e?”
“Capital T-h-e capital B-o-o-k capital O-f capital L-i-f-e.”
“And what will you get out of it?” Senam asked.
Tailnel, who seemed to have been waiting to be asked, responded, “The Book of Life would deeply aid us in the restoration of our, ah, theologically divine forests. We would learn much, and have a bargaining tool if we ever needed to deal with the Wizards to the south. Also, after this battle we will be severely weakened in numbers, and every child is important. We have no option but to agree to the vampire’s demands.”
The silence stretched horribly, as the three elves contemplated the magnitude of the proposition.
*~*~*
Twenty minutes later, with an oversized broadsword in hand and a strong feeling that things would all end in tears, Senam found himself once again on top of a house speaking with a Vampire. He had run all the way, partially because his nerve was going so fast it would outstrip a phoenix, and partially because Tailnel had left, shouting something about a Lich Lord or something, leaving no one to back Senam up if there was trouble. He hardly doubted that the King’s poisoned form would go unquestioned once found, and prayed fervently to Sylanna that Tailnel would survive to corroborate his story. Some how he had made his way to the two entities on the roof top, and, after having told a wild tale of stealth and assassination, demanded that the Vampire uphold his promise.
“Let’s see, you kill the king, and for that silly thing, I let your little one go. That was the arrangement, no?”
“Correct. Uphold it. Now.” Senam’s patience had gone with his nerve, and the long day had worn him out far too much. He was not in the mood for haggling.
“All right, the little one is…let go!” and without further ado he dropped the little elf over the side of the roof. Everything was moving in slow motion, the entire universe seemed centered around the falling figure. Senam, hardly sure whether he was in a dream or if some horrible nightmare had become real, felt himself diving forward, reaching in the hopes of grabbing something, anything that would prevent the little child from meeting a very unpleasant end. The ground, however, was advancing towards the little elf far quicker than could be defined as helpful, and a sickening thud seemed to already be resonating in Senam’s brain before the real one. Hands scrabbling, Senam finally managed to snag a small corner of Kamfeial’s robes. For a moment the world was moving normally again, and a rush of triumph momentarily vanquished the sick feeling of terror echoing all around Senam’s ears, and then, the most horrible sound, a sound to echo over the screams and bellows of war, a rip. Senam’s horror and slow motion world snap back into existence and Kamfeial’s robes tore, and he tumbled the two stories down the side of the house. An anguished scream tore from Senam’s throat, but there was nothing he could do. Kamfeial’s body was unceremoniously crushed by a passing Zombie, and Senam’s whole body shook as he lay there on the sloping roof. Tears, the salty things he had been trying to hold back since the beginning of the battle now began to slip down Senam’s cheeks. After all that, all his work, his spells and schemes and terrible moments of fear, Kamfeial was dead. Mocking, derisive and cruel laugher was resonating from the Vampire’s throat, once again cracking the air to pieces. Senam, his whole body still not quite recovered from shock none the less now had one thought burned into his mind. Revenge.
“Yes, It hurts, doesn’t it, little elfling?” The Vampire asked, still chuckling so horribly Senam wanted to strangle him. In fact, a number of things he could do were quite clear, but the Vampire was speaking again. “You see, this is why we who have passed over are joyous: because we do no have these feelings you mortals crave; despair, anguish, terror, loss? It’s all gone for the dead. You could have had the same thing, if you had accepted my offer, but you miscalculated, and thought that I would not take revenge on your…impudence. But no more of this, I am weary of you, and wish you to go away.”
“I’m not the only one who miscalculated," Senam said, and stood up. "You used Kamfeial as your shield, but now you have none. And I’m going to smite you for it.” The vampire’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, and he tried to pull his sword from his belt. Before he could, however, Senam’s sword was up, and with a shout of “For Kamfeial! And for Irollan!” he had swung it into The Vampire’s Heart.
*~*~*
The small dragon came in again, this time bearing welcome tea. The aroma filled the room, permeating it with a calming feeling of the earth. Senam and Ingan took a welcome break from talking and sipped deeply. Senam had never had Dragon Tea before, and for a moment gasped. The tea felt like fire. For a moment Senam panicked, afraid his throat would burn through. Then the feeling passed into his belly, and his whole body felt so warm and relaxed he almost dozed off. Breathing deeply, he replaced the tea and leaned back in his wicker chair. For a moment he waited, still enjoying the feeling of warmth that made his whole body tingle. Ingan was completely asleep.
With a sigh, Senam shook Ingan awake. Ingan’s eyes fluttered, and then he sat up straight, blushing profusely.
“It’s good tea!” Ingan said defensively, and then sat back in his wicker chair.
Kazung stared at Ingan with a resigned sigh. After a moment he turned to Senam and rumbled, “So, Continue To Tell Of Your Adventures. I Believe You Stopped Right After The Celebration Of Your Defeat Of The Vampire.”
Senam closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, and then resumed his story.
* * *
After the celebration Senam flopped down onto his bed, the taste of exotic fruits still on his tongue. The last of the bustling congratulators were shooed out by an old sprite, and as the door shut with a click, Senam’s forced smile turned into a despairing look of anguish. Not only had he lost Kamfeial, but the magnitude of what he was supposed to do was incredible. Ashan was a wide, and, in some parts, completely unexplored world, full of danger and wild beasts. The Book Of Life could be anywhere, and he had no idea where too look.
*~*~*
Senam woke the next morning in the same position he had fallen to sleep in, fully clothed, and with his worries in no way eliminated. To add to the annoyance, he had a headache, which he felt must have had something to do with the party last night. He couldn’t remember half of it. No, that was too generous. He couldn’t remember any of it at all. Senam gave a grunt of annoyance, and immediately regretted it as a stab of pain shot through his head. Gritting his teeth, Senam rose, (regretting that too) and stumbled over to the bowl of water by the window. It was supposed to be ceremonial, to poor out of the window at high noon, as prayer for rain, but…to blazes with tradition.
The cold water was rather helpful, he could now tell that there was only one window, but the ache in his head was particularly persistent. Well, a little peace and quiet, that should help things. As if on cue of him thinking this, a burst of song rang out from bellow.
All hail the forest warriors,
The Archers and Swordsmen,
The Druids and the Shield bearers
Whose job is to defend.
The enemy is vanquished,
The Shadows have withdrawn,
So let us thank the goddess,
Queen of the golden dawn.
Sing of our great victory,
Of how the undead ran,
For never will any foe
Conquer Irollan!
“They’re too happy,” Senam said out loud, he found it easier than thinking. “Don’t they know their king is dead?” Senam realized that he remembered that, and suddenly wished he had had more to drink.
“They all know…” a voice started, and the proximity of the voice was too much for Senam. He reeled, holding his head. The world swam for a moment, and then the pinkish blob with brown around it condensed into the shape of Ingan. Ingan was holding his staff, and looking remarkably smug at Senam’s less-than-dignified expression. For a moment, Senam tried to glare, found it hurt, and just looked at Ingan, who was murmuring the words of an incantation. There was a flash, and a bang, and Senam’s head cleared.
“They all know that King Elnair is only temporarily dead, and that Senam “Shadowsbane” is going to bring him back. They don’t seem to realize how much chaos is going to ensue when they need leadership.”
“What, we don’t have someone standing in for a king?” Senam said, he had thought that was the arrangement.
“They see it as a Druid’s coup, and that you are their leader.”
“Me? I’m King?” Senam’s eyes bulged as he realized the magnitude of what he had done. “I don’t want to wear the crown! My head is misshapen, I’d be a horrible king!”
“I know,” Ingan said dryly. “That is why we should leave now.”
“We?”
“Tailnel, who at least has the presence of mind to think, instead of celebrate, has decided that I should go with you on your quest, and keep you from running off somewhere, to see that you get The Book Of Life…Or to bring back your body if you fail.” Ingan grimaced. “Why does it always have to be me babysitting the little ones?”
“I’m not little!”
“You’re younger than I am.”
“By, what, eight months?”
“Yes. A lifetime, in other words.”
“Stop being such a teenager and help me think.”
“I’ve done that, incase you haven’t noticed,” Ingan said, with a mirthless smile creeping across his face. “Rule one of questing: Drink after you finish, not before you start. Now come on, before the majority of the town wakes up.”
*~*~*
The leaves were singing with their dry, cackling voices, accompanied by the wind. The sun pierced the canopy where the trees grew thin, but otherwise all was a cool green shade, stretching for miles as far as the eye could see. You could almost smell the trees pushing their way out of the soil. The paths leading east were smooth and straight as a bendy thing, but each curve was long and subtle, so the walk was not unpleasant. Ingan, though snappish to the point of seeming almost human, relaxed once he and Senam had made it out of the city. They set out east, without any clear plan as to where they were going, content to listen to the choirs of birds that soared over head, singing in tune with the wind.
After a while, however, the sun began to slip slowly into her western bed, and the forest was suffused with an amber glow. Ingan suggested that they stop to make camp, so they found a suitable tree and hung their hammocks. As Senam tied off one of his ends Ingan broached the question of where they were going.
“This walk is very nice,” he said, “But all paths lead somewhere, and we need to be there. Soon. Did you come out here with a plan, or were you hoping you would sort of trip over The Book Of Life?”
“Ingan, need you be so belligerent?”
“Yes. I find that it gets results.”
Senam tried to glare at him again, but found that the sun was in his eyes and contented himself with saying, “I thought we would go to the dragons on the Eastern Edge of the forest, and ask for their council.”
Ingan’s face took on an odd look. Could it have been…no, it must have been a trick of the light, Senam thought. But it had looked almost like he was…
“Fair enough, it’s a good plan. Now, if you don’t mind, I need sleep.” Ingan turned his back on Senam and flopped into his hammock.
*~*~*
Senam had an odd dream. He dreamed that he was standing in a room, a large one, elegantly carved, with a sloping ceiling and relief designs of chickens attacking cockatri. The chickens, who were the fathers of the cockatri, expelled them from their kingdom. As the cockatri became sick, and started to die, the chickens burned their Apothecaries and forced them to split up, seeking shelter from the evil chickens.
In front of Senam was a pedestal, which Senam focused on more than the fowl etchings. On the pedestal was The Book Of Life. Senam reached for it, and then reached again, for every time he reached out it moved on him. First to his left, then his right, left, right, back, front, left, right, left, right, back, front, left…
Senam followed the pattern, and snatched The Book when it reappeared to his right. With a shout of triumph, he opened the book, only to find it blank, except for black etchings in an evil looking script.
With a wail Senam dropped The Book, falling to his knees in anguish.
“I’m going to fail?” he asked no one in particular. “I’m just going to get it and fail?”
“You’re missing the point,” a cockatrice answered. Then the room flooded, and Senam’s eyes opened.
*~*~*
“You are impossible to wake up,” Ingan griped as they walked East with the sun in their eyes.
“You didn’t have to dump water on me.”
“Yes I did, you refused to respond to me.”
“How many times did you call out?”
“Once.”
“I appreciate your hard work, I’m sure,” Senam said dryly. “Out of curiosity, is there a reason in particular that we aren’t riding? We’d cover more ground that way.”
“Not to mention making us all that much easier to follow, and making such a ruckus that every Necromancer from here to Karthal will hear us.”
“Yes, because Necromancers have such good hearing,” Senam said, rolling his eyes to the heavens.
“They do actually, don’t mock them.”
“Oh, and are they listening now?” Senam said, an eyebrow raised.
“I’m sure that some Spy or Dark Dendroid or Undead Squirrel is listening as you speak.” Ingan looked around, as if expecting some Specter to appear through the trees. At finding none, he sighed, he’d been hoping for a good fight. “It is said that the powerful Necromancers can hear every word spoken if ever a living being has died near the speaker. That the words of the living are remembered forever in the elephantine memory of the dead. They listen, and they wait, and then when the sun turns her back on you and the moons rise, they strike, quiet as Malassa herself. They bind you, gag you, take you to their dark temples, and extract your soul, and bind it in eternal servitude to the dark sorcerer. Then they take your bones, the better ones, and combine them with others, in dark and unholy union. You can watch, from the temple, as your own body goes to war, slays your friends, and gathers –”
“Be quiet, will you?” Senam was rolling his eyes no longer. The woods seemed darker, the trees more grasping, the light more fleeting. “Stop scaring me. You speak of nothing.”
“True, I speak only of dreams.” Ingan said. Then he took off, running through the forest. For a moment, Senam looked about, wondering if Ingan had noticed some danger after all. The woods were empty, except for Ingan, bounding through the aspens. Senam gave up looking and threw himself into the chase. Elves can run for long periods of time, longer than humans, and for a good hour or so Ingan and Senam raced through the cool shade.
Morning faded to noon, and again the sun began to recede into the horizon. Ingan and Senam stopped around three o’ clock by a stream, and doused their faces with the cool water. Senam climbed a nearby outcropping of rock, and watched the water rushing over the little hills. Ingan sat bellow in the shadow of the rock, raising little manifestations of the water out of the stream, only to send them back to the depths.
* * *
In Syris Thalla, a young elf was running up the wooden steps to the newly appointed council chamber where the temporary king, Adlebrann, was in discussion with the council. They stopped as the elf raced in and panted out his message. “There is… another army… of undead coming…on our borders…destroyed the outpost at Denein’s Clearing…Coming this way.”
“Size, strength, leaders?” Adlebrann, the quickest to recover, asked.
“Not as large as the last one, but there are at least a dozen wraiths, and small army of skeletons. Possibly Liches. I don’t know who was leading them, scouts only got a brief glimpse as they came over the ridge.”
Adlebrann was silent, though the other council members talked amongst themselves. Finally he asked, “How many warriors do we have left?”
The reply from General Olania came quickly, she had been expecting the question. “At least six dozen archers and blade dancers, and a contingent of some of our apprentice druids. We can send runners to Ylthia, they have Trained Unicorns I believe, and Sylandale has a platoon of guards they aren’t doing anything with.”
Adlebrann turned next to Elisian, and asked, “How much food do we have in the city? Do we have enough to last a siege?”
Elisian pondered for a moment. “That depends. During the last attack one of our storehouses was destroyed, and some of the undead bast –”
“Elisian!”
“Um, the undead barbarians, I mean, managed to burn a few fields on their way out of the city. It could take months to clean them out. We have enough to feed the citizens as they have been for at least a week, but after that things are going to get bad. Water’s not an issue, but meat is already pressing, and we’ve lost almost all of our fruit groves.”
Adlebrann turned to Oliana, saying “When you send that runner tell them to send food as well.”
“You can’t.” All assembled turned to the female voice speaking from the doorway. “Some friends and I were out trying to restore a few of the Pear Trees on the Eastern Edge of the city. I was in the tallest one, looking out East, I love that view. But I saw a blockade, as it were, on all sides. Black Tents, and Towers being built, cutting off the roads and burning the forest. I couldn’t evens see the lights of Ylthia. I don’t know if it’s still there or…not.”
* * *
After an hour of meditation on the rock, Senam opened his eyes. The sun had really started to set now, and there was no dinner. Senam stood up, and peered around, looking for a deer trail or a fruit grove. The stream laughed playfully at his search, which turned out fruitless. Senam turned to climb back down off of the rock, and nearly fell off in shock. He hadn’t seen it before because of the sun, and for a moment Senam hoped dearly that he had been imagining it. He held a hand up to the sun, shielding his eyes. After a moment, and two blinks, Senam realized he was not imagining it. Rising high above the trees, with twisting towers and hovering wraiths, was a Necropolis.
* * *
“Ingan! Ingan!” Senam shouted as he leapt off the rock. He landed with a splash in the water. With a groan as he got up, he looked around frantically. Ingan was nowhere to be seen. His pack and staff both lay on the ground, but his rapier was gone. Senam jumped back onto the rock, and stared around him. The Spires of the Necropolis stared down at him like the eyes of a hawk, and Senam wondered how long he could stay there without being noticed. He slipped down off the rock, failing to not panic. As he grabbed his pack and weapons, fully intending to rethink his plans, head home, and ask for an Irollanian Army, Ingan stepped out from the forest. His sword was bloodied, and a deer carcass was slung over his shoulder.
“Why were you shouting?” Ingan said, looking at Senam askance. “Did a big scary shadow scare you?”
“Yes, actually,” Senam snapped back. “We’re standing under the shadow of a necropolis, and not just an outpost. There were crypts and mausoleums, and far too many towers.” Senam was panting now. The laughter of the stream seemed to have turned to a malevolent chuckle, and the sunlight in the trees looked like fire. Ingan’s face, turned away from the sun, was in shadow, and Senam could almost have believed he was smiling with triumph. Senam blinked, and the looked seemed less triumphant, but more bloodthirsty.
“Excellent.” Ingan said, drawing his sword. It rang like a death toll on a winter morning. “Shall we destroy it?”
“Destroy… What?”
“The Necropolis, you idiot,” Ingan responded with a glare. “Why are you heroes always so stupid?”
“Stupid?” Senam said, temper flaring. “An army of two attacking a city crawling with the undead? Now that seems pretty stupid.”
“This is our homeland,” Ingan said. “It is our duty to remove the menace.”
“Not much point,” Senam said, “If we wouldn’t do more than scratch the walls. Unless you’re carrying a catapult around with you.”
“You wouldn’t be able to do much, but I have some power.”
“You can’t do much more than I can.”
“Knowledge is power, and I know something most don’t.”
“Such as?”
“There are dragons a day’s walk north from here.”
Senam looked at him for a moment. His head was suddenly filled with images of dragons crushing the dark spires and haunted mausoleums, with him leading the charge, returning a hero... But the happy image faded. Even dragons, once seen as the mightiest beast in the world, could not destroy a huge necropolis.
“How do you know?” Senam asked.
“I saw a witch in her hut. Crazy old bat, but she made good tea.”
“Okay, so what, we knock on the dragons’ door and ask them for help while being eaten?” Senam asked, feeling his eyebrow rise.
“Dragons are powerful, and wiser, than you think.” Ingan replied. “They’d listen to us, even if they don’t want to help, and they might have magic or weapons we could take with us.”
Senam thought. Reluctant as he was to accept his classmate’s suggestion, it was a good one. “Alright, we can go. But can we start making distance sometime soon? That Necropolis is still there.”
“We have a few hours before nightfall. We can head out for now.”
“Let’s go then.” Senam said. He picked up his staff and pack, and headed north. As he and Ingan walked away, a pair of watchful eyes peered at them, and then headed to the tall city wreathed in shadow…
* * *
Senam bit into the meat, and resisted the temptation to gag. In the darkness under the trees it would be too dangerous to light a fire, for fear of it being seen, so they were only able to do a mediocre warming spell, which failed utterly to cook the meat. Coupled with Senam’s distaste for meat in general and the lack of fruit or good water, it was a very bad meal. Senam did what he could, but it was hard to resist the temptation to set the meat (and possibly Ingan) on fire.
After dinner Senam and Ingan debated about what should be done with the uneatable parts of the deer. Senam said they should give it a proper burial, and thank Sylanna for giving them their food, and pray to the deer’s spirit for forgiveness. Ingan responded that it was ridiculous, digging would take an entire day, and they did not have time for formalities, especially this close to a necropolis. After a while Senam stopped being stubborn and gave in, and Ingan took the corpse off into the woods away from camp. Senam was left to put up the hammocks. After a furtive glance to make sure that Ingan was out of sight, Senam put a spiteful Bed of Thorns spell on Ingan’s bunk.
Ingan returned, and they both slept. Senam had another odd dream. He heard an odd chant, like the ones he had heard back home, but he had never heard the words before.
They run through the last plane
With shadows on their feet,
Curses rip them from their souls,
And their bones from meat.
They lie like assassins, waiting,
Following their prey,
Then they strike from the shadows,
And leave without a fray.
Bereft of Godly Allies,
They invoke darkest spells
To defy the oldest sorrow,
And Mother Asha as well.
Their corruption comes from inside,
And hides behind gentle mask
Then removes it in an instant,
And completes their master’s task.
Beware the oldest sorrow,
Lest it take you too,
Forgive ancient grievances,
And make mighty one from weak two.
Then something hit him, hard, in the side, and Senam woke up.
There was a terrible sheik echoing all around him, but in the darkness he could barely see his enemy. It hit him again, and Senam fumbled desperately for his sword, his staff, even a rock, anything to hit with, but his hands grasped empty air. Idiot! He thought, as the unseen thing picked him up like a rag doll and threw him against a tree. Why were you sleeping in the open? Why not under cover of the Forrest? The Monster in the dark came at him again, and Senam fumbled desperately for the trunk of the tree. He had read about the use of living trees for spell casting, thus bypassing a staff at all, but the spells were supposed to be sporadic, and hard to control. As the Thing in the shadows shrieked, Senam dodged left, and heard the tree splinter as it was hit. Senam rolled to the left, and then felt something barky hit his back. In desperation he grabbed it, and cast a basic endurance spell on himself. Not only did this give him a few more seconds of life, but the surge of magic cast a golden glow around him, and he got a look at what was attacking him. When he did, he wished it had stayed in the dark.
It was a skeleton. A skeleton of vast proportions, with a huge skull, hooves, and terrible horns arrayed across its head, with two upper legs rearing. The reassuring light faded, and Senam dodged right. The Creature shrieked in annoyance, and Senam heard the sound of hoof beats racing at him. Senam dodged yet again, but this time the undead thing was ready. It hit him hard in the chest, and he flew backwards into what felt like bushes.
Senam could hear the thing feeling around in the brambles around him. The footsteps came nearer. Senam lay very still. The footsteps moved around to the left, and then to the right, tapping gently in the night. Senam was wondering how long he could keep his breathing from giving him away, and hoping against hope that his heart was not beating as loud as he thought. Then the creature, being fed up with waiting, dived into the bush. Senam rolled again, and as the creature screamed again with aggravation at once again losing its prey, Senam’s hands closed on a weapon. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was long, smooth, and heavy. It was enough for hitting the beast, at any rate. It came at him (Senam wondered how this thing could see, he couldn’t) and as it did, Senam swung the heavy object he was holding.
The Creature screamed as it was hit, and as it was a burst of light told Senam this was his staff. He also got a better look at the creature, and realized what it was. The terrible horns turned out to be antlers, and the huge skull was that of a deer. The deer he had been eating earlier that night. A necromancer must have raised it while he slept.
Senam turned and tried to put distance between himself and the poor thing, and upon reaching an open space used his staff and the adrenaline in his veins to summon a hole into existence. The creature charged at him, and fell headlong into the hole. There was a dull thump, and an angry shriek from below.
“In Sylanna’s Name,” Senam said what he felt that he should have said earlier this evening, “Forgive me for robbing you of life to further my own. Er…Twice.” He closed the hole. The stones and dirt tumbled down onto the Undead Deer beneath him. There was one last dull moan from under the earth, and then silence.
Senam slumped down to the earth, and allowed himself a rest for a few seconds. Then he rose, and began to look for Ingan. After realizing that he still could see very little, he cast an illuminating spell, despite the Necromancers that could still be around. They probably knew he was there already. After walking around camp in widening circles for a while, he saw odd flashes of green light off in the distance. Senam dampened his illumination spell, and crept toward the light. He found Ingan, casting healing spells on himself. An unexpected rage rose in him, and he shouted. “Where the Sheogh have you been?!”
Ingan looked up. “Fighting shadows. Did I wake you up?”
“No, a bone buck did,” Senam responded. “What did you do with that carcass?”
“I threw it onto the riverbank. I figured some passing Roc would consume it.”
“You imbecile, a Necromancer raised it and set it on me. While you, what, did nothing?”
“There were four specters here. They were annoyingly incorporeal.”
“How did you defeat them?”
“They become solid when they attack,” Ingan said. “Now, it’s late, let’s just go to sleep, huh?”
Senam looked at Ingan, wondering why he was being so straightforward, and they nodded.”
“Good. Then let’s move our camp to somewhere less exposed and sleep for a few hours.” Ingan stalked off into the gloom in the direction of camp. Senam wanted to protest, but he found that he felt drained, exhausted. Sleep, at that moment, sounded like a wondrous thing. He followed Ingan back to camp, moved the Hammocks to a more sheltered side of the clearing, and slept.
* * *
Dawn broke in an explosion of color, with the sun splitting the sky. The woods were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind in the trees and the trickle of the stream. Senam waited for a while before rising from bed. There was something ancient about the silence, something he did not want to disturb. It felt like he was back in a church he had visited in the Holy Griffin Empire, with tall steeples and flying buttresses, and a stern cleric staring down evermore from his colored glass. This was how Senam remembered his visit to the Holy Griffin Empire, the largest human kingdom, when he was younger.
He hadn’t liked it. It was sunny and bright, like Irollan, but the light was hard and rigid, and everything was sharp and carved in stone. The Priests had been almost fearful. They did not laugh, and when they smiled it did not reach their eyes. They had given him and his parents funny looks, and one of them had whispered something to his brother about “Unbelievers” and made an odd sign. His parents went to talk to a local Bishop about some diplomatic matter. Senam had never asked what, and now it was too late. Senam had spent his days in the library, and read a bit of history. The book he had read went something like this:
And it was in this tyme, when the demon incursion was at its hyte, that the Elvyn City of Syris Thalla was burned down. At the tyme, the Elvys blamed the forces of Tuidhana the Elf, as well as her band of miscryants that the Elvys themselves had allowed to form on their sotheryn borders. The Elvys, being flighty and impulsive, much more so than the Falcon Empire, did give these rebels the following choice: They could leave forever and never return, or pass away, into the darkness that awaits all unbelievers. They took the first opshyn, and retreated into the caves.
That was all Senam had read. The book was hard enough to interpret for monks and scholars of the Holy Griffin Empire. For an Elf who had only started learning English two years ago it was a nightmare. Senam had found more recent books, including one with beautifully painted pictures and large letters. Then there were spell books, some of which Senam understood, and large tomes on biology and religion. Senam had skimmed some of those books, and at that time came to the opinion that the Human Religion, worshiping Elrath, seemed complicated, boring, and full of intricacies that canceled each other out and prevented anything from getting done.
Senam got up and splashed water on his face, and tried to steer himself away from memory lane. He had another road to travel.
* * *
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Senam asked. Ingan managed to roll his eyes and glare at Senam at the same time.
“Of course we are,” Ingan said after a moment. “As you would see if you would stop asking the same question every five minutes.”
“What makes you so sure this is the right way?” Senam said, stopping and turning to Ingan. “We’ve been walking for hours and I haven’t seen a thing!”
Ingan sighed, and, in the tone of one explaining to a very old person that a mirror is not their long lost twin brother, stated, “Because it makes sense that the necromancers will try to stop us from reaching the Dragons, if they discover our intentions.”
“But they haven’t tried to stop us,” Senam protested.
“Shut up and duck,” Ingan said, and immediately complied with his order as an arrow arched over his head. Senam looked up the path for a moment, then ducked also as another arrow came whizzing at his head. Almost instinctively Senam cast a Barrier Spell between him and the archers, and then he got a good look at them, and almost ran. Four of them, loosely attired with rags and a sickening glow about their skulls, stood up the hill on a low rise, with their bows held taught and full quivers of arrows at their backs. Hollow eye sockets stared out at them, and their jaws hung loosely open, drawing no breath, for they had no lungs, nor heart, nor blood, nor skin, nor any other part belonging to a man or elf, save the bones. Their skulls grinned (then again, what else can skulls do?) at them, and shot more arrows. Senam felt each one that impacted his shield as a sharp prick of pain, and had to wait while Ingan prepared a blinding spell and cast it at the Undead. The moment’s incapacitation was all Ingan needed to rush in and attack, breaking Senam’s shield as he did so. Senam waited to attack directly. There was a spell, still experimental, that he had been wanting to try, but lacking a target had decided not to. He knelt, staff in hand, and called upon a god.
Ingan had dispatched one of the undead, and was working on another while the last two were trying to disentangle themselves from a badly planned attack that left them stuck together. Ingan kicked out at his opponent, and looked back to see what Senam was doing. To his consternation, Senam was just sitting there, muttering. Ingan growled, and shouted, “Could I have some help over here?”
Senam looked up, and odd look in his eyes. His staff was glowing, and the twilighten woods seemed to have clouded over unexpectedly. Ingan looked back to his opponent, and as it came at him again there was a flash in the forest. A streak of white fire, called lightning by the Humans, impacted one of the skeletons, at last untangled, and rent it into fragments. The other skeleton saw, and raced at Senam. Senam raised his staff, and swung it with little accuracy. The Skeleton ducked, and knocked the staff away with its sword. Senam was unable to respond fast enough, and found the bony hand upon his neck before he could do a thing. The Skeleton raised its sword.
* * *
“Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!” Lian kicked the council building repeatedly. It was a day since she had told them about the destruction of Ylthia. The Undead Horde seemed to be sitting on the edges of the city’s line of sight, with a snappy concealment spell to veil their forces. “Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.”
“Lian, stop, you’re acting like a human.” The speaker was Fyalla, another Elvin Maiden, with white hair and long legs.
“Good!” Lian exploded. “The council is acting about as…slow as they could get! At least humans would be doing something. They’d charge off blindly and get themselves killed, but they’d do something! Stupid...” She kicked. “…Urging….” She kicked again. “…Elders!” She kicked a third time.
“If you want to bring the building down, you might as well burn it, there’s enough fire about,” Tiana said, walking over. It saddened Lian to see that her usually springy step had fallen to a dejected trudge, and her hair, usually plaited each morning with blue flowers, was now ragged and unadorned.
“Just venting.” Lian said.
“That’s odd in itself,” Tiana said. “You never got angry before.”
“I know,” Lian said. “I just feel...vengeful. I want to do something, like forge weapons or make arrows, but I cant!”
“Why not?” Fyalla asked. “I mean, apart from there being nothing we know how to do.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tiana said, “I can’t forge weapons, but I can grow trees till the cows come home.”
There was a silence for a moment. Then Fyalla asked, “Er, Tiana? What are cows?”
“Oh, they’re something I read about in a book from the Holy Griffin Empire,” Tiana responded. “I only heard the expression once. I think that a cow is another word for a child that runs away from home or something.”
“And they don’t come home?”
“I think that’s how they achieve cow status,” Tiana said knowledgeably.
“But what if the child eventually does come home? Do they stop being a cow? And are they a cow in other places, or just to the people at home? And don’t they have herds of cows? I heard about them. If they have herds of cows, and people know where they are, then couldn’t the parents come for their children and decow them?”
“Look,” Lian said, Trying to prevent Fyalla from getting them too far off track. “This is all very fascinating, but we need to do something or we will all be cows!”
“Why?” Fyalla asked.
“Because the undead are seigeing our city and we need to figure out how to stop them from killing us all, including our parents, and us thus having to be cows. So, besides growing trees and trying to interpret human culture, what can we do?”
The silence lengthened. Then Tiana said, with some guilt in her voice, “I looked through Senam’s notes. They were rather messy, but I figured out how to make spells work more rapidly. That’ got to be worth something.”
Fyalla brightened. “Hey, if we set up a search spell at rapid speed, we could send all the cows home to their parents and then they might help us!” Fyalla said, with the air of one reaching an undeniable conclusion. The others looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“That’s an idea,” Tiana said, “That you would have, but wouldn’t it make more sense to just make the cows grow up and be warriors without having to wait for them to get home?”
“That’s it!” Lian said, “I’ve got it! Tiana, go get Senam’s notes. Fyalla, go get everyone together. I think I have an Idea.” And despite the looming danger of the undead on their borders, despite the smell of death lingering on the air, Tiana’s face broke into a wide, wicked smile…
* * *
The last skull fell to the ground and rolled down the path. When it stopped its eyes were still facing Senam, and seemed to glare at him reproachfully. Senam sighed and diffused the Magic built up in his staff. Ingan got up, shaking himself off.
“There, see, told you I had a plan. I distract it, you kill it.”
“I had a plan too,” Senam replied sourly. “It kills you, and I kill it while it’s distracted.”
“It’s just a scratch. Neither deep as well nor wide as a church door, and definitely not enough to kill me.”
“I can hope,” Senam said with a shrug.
“Why did I volunteer for this?” Ingan said as Senam started to head back along the path in the direction he had been heading. “I could be back at home preparing for siege, but no, I have to trek, on foot, for miles and miles with you! I swear there’s a god out to get me. Have I offended Sylanna? Arkath? Seldath?”
“Ingan – ”
“Come on, let’s get to that cave. I’d like to stop having these annoying breaks in the plan.”
* * *
“And that was it, really,” Senam said, and took a sip of his tea again. “We found your cave about half an hour after that.”
The dragons in the room sat back on their haunches, contemplating. The one with the pearly neck spines was the first to speak. “So…” she said, with the smugness of a prophet who was right about Armageddon. A smile curled across her face, showing sharp fangs. Senam was very glad the Dragons were on his side. “So. It Seems I Was Right. The Dark Lords Are Back, As I Said They Would Be.”
“Do Not Flaunt Your Predictions When Death Knocks At The Door,” Said the dragon with the feathers. “We Must Decide How To Act.”
“I Suggest,” another one said, he was older looking, with white tufts of fur sprouting from his chin, and a sort of windiness in his voice, like an old accordion. “That We Should Find Out More About The Nature Of The Threat. How Big Is Their Army? What Magics Do They Command? Are You Facing Experienced Generals, Or A Rag Tag Band Preparing For Further Assaults?”
Ingan and Senam both tried to speak at the same time. Ingan blundered in with “Forget scouting, let’s destroy them!” While Senam asked “What do you mean, ‘you?’”
The Pearly One answered Ingan first. “It is not safe to attack unless we know what we are fighting. We are strong, but we cannot plow through a city alone. We may try to get word to our brethren in other places.”
“But you’re Dragons!” Ingan shouted. “You’re the descendants of the gods themselves! Attack! Fight! Kill!”
“WE DID!” The Dragon Bellowed. “WE ATTACKED A NECROPOLIS ONCE BEFORE THIS! WHY DO YOU THINK WE ARE SO WEAK NOW?! OUR COMRADES FELL TO THE UNHALLOWED GROUND. THE ACCURSED SORCERORS RAISED THEM MINUTES AFTER THEY DIED! WE REJOICED IN THEIR SURVIVAL UNTIL WE REALIZED THAT THEY WERE ATTACKING US, NOT THE OPPONENTS. WE KILLED OUR SISTERS, OUR CHILDREN, OUR NEIGHBORS, KILLED THEM MORE THAN THEY DESREVED AND THEY KEPT COMING BACK. WE ONLY SURVIVED BECAUSE THE NECROPOLIS WAS SET UPON BY A RIVAL SORCEROR. WE FLED. WE FLED AND OUR FRIENDS WERE LOST. IT HAS TAKEN US THREE CENTURIES TO REBUILD. That Is Why We Will Not Blunder In. You Will.”
“Which brings me back to my question,” Senam muttered.
“We will?” Ingan said. “We will what?”
“You Will Sneak Into The City And Learn All You Can. When You Know Enough, You Will Report Back To Us.”
Ingan sat back in his chair looking sour. Senam leaned forward. “I don’t mean to be ungracious, but is there anything you could help us with? Spells, Weapons, perhaps a helm of invisibility if you have one lying about?”
The old dragon chuckled. “We Do Not Leave Powerful Artifacts Lying About, Little One. But We Will Help You However We Can. You Must Leave Tomorrow, Though. From What You Have Said, The Necromancers Will Know Y
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How exactly is luck a skill?
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vhilhu
Famous Hero
We are NOT schysophren
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posted April 24, 2007 06:36 PM |
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Solmyr, Gaudolth and a cyclops walk into a bar.
Solmyr, Gaudolth and a cyclops walk into a bar.
They sit down. A barmaid walks nearby, the cyclops tries to rape her. While trying to get away, the barmaid slips and breaks her ankle.
Solmyr, with a deep sense of honor, wows eternal servitude to the immortal bartender to replace the barmaid.
The cyclops summons rocks from the ground and throws them around madly, as no matter in whose army he would be in, the other hero would be bugged and cause error.
Gaudolth, the only one left who hasnt got anything to do, sits in the corner in an emo way, cries "Oh why did the Universe create me?" and cuts his wrists. On his undead side, because its safer and he can continue whining this way.
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Two little Gnoll boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.
One little Gnoll boy left all alone;
He went and hung himself and then there were none.
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Mytical
Responsible
Undefeatable Hero
Chaos seeking Harmony
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posted November 19, 2007 11:14 PM |
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Edited by Mytical at 09:22, 27 Nov 2007.
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The Battle of Nightglade.
Duke Wolfhouse looked over the battlefield from one of the towers. The infernal legions stretched for miles. The walls of Nightglade easily withstood the assult of their seige engines, however. Though vastly outnumbered the army he commanded was one of the most experienced of the Griffin Empire. In fact, towns from all over sent their soldiers to be trained here.
Reinforcements were days away, they had to hold the town at all costs. They had managed to dispatch the legions that had been gated in by the enemy, but had paid a terrible price. They were training the peasants to use bows as fast as they could, but the training went slowly.
"Sir! Breach on the left wall! One of our towers is down!" came a report from one of the soldiers.
"Close that breach! Don't let them get in! Every man to the hole. Hold it at all costs." he barked. "Call in the Imperial Griffins. Dive on any creature that even thinks of approaching it!"
The soldier rushed to spread his order. What he would not do for somebody who could cast some magic on his troops. The few Arch Angels he had started the day with were one of the first to fall at the hands of the Demon army. They knew not to leave them standing for too long. The Paladins had been next. In fact he was down to a hand full of griffins, way too many peasants, but at least he still had a great many crossbow men. Things were getting desperate. If rescue didn't come soon, it would be too late.
Be'Keth could smell victory. He had sent about a third of his legion against the frail humans and their town, and already the town was suffering greatly. Soon it would burn. The general leading the initial charge would probably be lost, but it was of no concern. That is what underlings were for, to sacrifice.
He waited just out of sight of the enemy's tower. With twice as many creatures as he had sent with his general, his conquest would be easy. The glory would go to him alone. The 'mighty' Nightglade castle would burn this night.
As he reveled in his vision of the castle in flames, a horned demon hesitantly approached. "Master Be'Keth..forgive. Scouts say more umans arrive. They charge, many die. Wait for orders."
"Bah! Must I do everything for myself!? Gather the rest, we march!" Be'Keth was not about to be denied his victory. Especially not by some humans.
The men on the walls cheered when the cavaliers ran down the last remaining imps. Not a moment too soon either. Only a handful of soldiers remained alive, most of them bleeding and exhusted. The Duke went to greet their wouldbe rescuers. The one leading them was an imposing figure. Dressed in head to foot armor, riding a large armored horse.
After getting the rescuing army inside, the Duke approached the leader of the army. "Thank the gods you have arrived. We thought that the castle would fall. To whom do we owe our gratitude?" asked the Duke.
"I am known only by the name Dunham. Do not thank us yet. Our scouts report that there is another army twice the size of the last headed our way. Can you and your men still fight?"
"As long as we draw breath we can fight M'Lord. I hope more reinforcements are arriving soon, however. Though your help is greatly appreciated, fifty Cavaliers are hardly going to make a difference against so many creatures." After hearing that what they had faced had only been a fraction of the whole, the Duke was disheartened. There was no way this castle could withstand another assault.
"Good thing we are not alone then Duke. At dawn, the main army will arrive. We raced ahead to help you withstand until then." came the reply from Dunham.
A cheer went up from the soldiers hearing this, and even the Duke's heart was a bit lighter. Still, dawn was a long way away. "Alright you layabouts. Start working on the repairs. Captain, start training the peasants to shoot straight. Everybody, listen up. Dunham is in charge now, and I don't want to hear any complaints. If he says to throw yourself over the wall, do it. By all the gods these walls shall not fall!" Though elated, they immediately started following his command. There was hope.
Be'Keth and his army reached the castle just as night fell. Immediately they launched the assault. First, he ordered his troops to gate in fresh troops. He would let them deal with the ones held up in the walls, along with his Succubi. The others headed straight for the wall that had been breached earlier. They were met by a moat and by cavalier, and suffered a heavy blow. Be'Keth cursed as he noticed a human sitting on a stallion invoking a spell of light. No matter, they could not withstand the assault for long.
The Caveliers charged out of the hole, assaulting everything in their path. Inside the remaining humans had split into small units clearing up the freshly gated troops. This left their archers and ballista free to concentrate on his Succubi. They were being dwindled down to nothing. He would have to do something to turn this around quickly.
Dunham led the charge with the Cavaliers. They were suffering heavy blows, but they had to concentrate on the main army. The freshly gated troops would exact a toll from the remaining protectors of the town, but the real danger was outside of the castle. Soon they had gotten the enemy to retreat, but only temporarily. Just enough time. That is all they needed. Enough time for the main army to flank the demons. It would be a slaughter.
Dunham doubted there was enough time, however. There were just too many of them.
The fight rejoined with savage intensity. Whoever was leading this army was holding nothing in reserve. They wanted this castle, and wanted it bad. Light started to creep accross the sky as the Cavaliers were finally surrounded. Dunham looked at the dawn, knowing that there would be no more dawns for them. Turning slightly back toward the town, Dunham lifted the face of his helmet, and saluted the castle. It would be safe. The army would be apon them in moments. His father, and the castle would survive the day. That was all that mattered. Raising a salute, he saw recognition in the Duke's eyes, who then cried out to the heavens.
Turning to face the dawn, he saluted again, then he led the final charge. It would be the greatest victory the Haven army would ever have, and tales would be told about it for generations. Some parts would change, like who the mighty savior of Nightglade was, how many the enemy was, and various other details. The one thing that remained throught all the versions was the glint off the steel of the sword as they charged the Inferno Horde...
The end....
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Message received.
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PeterFarkas
Adventuring Hero
LeBronTosaurus
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posted September 16, 2010 04:23 PM |
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At last, I managed to find where to post this I hope it will grow longer and mostly, I hope you'll enjoy reading it.
Storyline is past-Kingdoms, with some of my own filling in story gaps.
Chapter 1: The day when roads part
He stepped to the window, just like an artist who has a look at his masterpiece. And more or less, what he saw that was his own masterpiece.
His name was Francis Ferdinand, and a few years ago he was just a fairly young duke, governing the remaining parts of the Stag Duchy that were not totally ruined of Urgash’s corruption. But now, he was much more. He was now known as the noble knight, who led the revolution in the Unicorn Empire against the Demons, managed to ally with the mighty Mages and eventually succeed in restoring Asha’s Order. And he was Francis Ferdinand the First, the newly chosen king of the Unicorn Empire.
But, much for his dismay, he was not present at the final battle, against the Half-Demon Nemesis, Sareth, because he and his troops were blockaded by a massive demon army. Yet, the person who he was waiting for was there. Ferdinand had to leave the task to face the Demonic menace to the Archbishop, his right hand and Sylath’s chosen one, Morgan. He was the one who fought alongside the old Mage, Zehir in Sareth’s doomed palace. Ferdinand never forgot that he was the one who had this difficult but heroic task. He grew up in a world full of suspicion and treachery and was very worried after Morgan requested personal audience without any former sign of disloyalty.
In a few seconds, he heard the doors of the Throne Hall closing and as he turned his face away from the Empire’s view, he saw Morgan. They both stared in each other’s eyes. Morgan was a true priest in looks just as he was in his heart. Smaller and weaker than Ferdinand was, with his short black hair (had to keep it that way, he was a Monk, after all) and pale skin not many people would have thought about what immense strength he had. Nobody who hadn’t heard him speak at least. At the battlefield he was zealous and had a golden tongue, a true instinct to raise the bloodlust in his soldiers. But after a battle, he was a humble scholar, who simply loved riding in the plains and discussing about foreign cultures.
Ferdinand noticed something as they looked at each other. Usually, his sky-blue eyes were clear and cut into people like a spirit blade, now they were red and he seemed that he had been crying during all last night. He was sad and confused. And that fact confused even Ferdinand who was never a master of words and emotions. He was never confident when he had to be a diplomat
“Is there anything wrong, my friend?” he asked as calmly as he was able to, though his heart was rushing.
For a moment, Morgan bowed and didn’t look at his king.
“I know you, my king.” he said and Ferdinand’s suspicion even rose. He never spoke like this. His voice was not zealous but dedicated. It was deadly calm but still, solid like a rock. Ferdinand knew that whatever he was going to say, he was going to have a very difficult argument about it.
“I know you and your habits. And I know that what I am going to do now, you would well consider treachery.” Ferdinand didn’t forget to notice that his voice was weakening. “But I cannot stay here. And I cannot be the Archbishop of your lands. The Unicorn Empire is not my land. Not anymore.”
The king took a deep breath. The hard part came now.
“Please tell me, why? I might be the king but I am neither older, nor wiser than you and we both know that I lack your skills. I need you, Morgan.”
“I have another fate. It is as simple as I say it now. Elrath has chosen you for the king of this land, and I know that he has chosen well. You are a brave warrior and eternally loyal for your people. But speaking about me, my destiny is not to remain here.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.” Ferdinand became angrier and angrier. “What is this destiny you are talking about?”
“Sylath has chosen me for a quest. And for his sake, I can’t remain here.”
Ferdinand stepped a bit closer to him.
“I am the king of the Unicorn Empire.” he whispered. “And this is the Kingdom we both have fought for. Let yourself rest and enjoy what you have done.”
Morgan looked down to the ground again.
“I disagree, my king. We fought for the world we know. For Asha’s Order. But only you were the one fighting for this kingdom and you deserve the price.”
Ferdinand was shocked from what he heard.
“Unfortunately, my king, you will never understand Sylath’s path. He can never rest. So can’t I.”
He still didn’t understand what the young priest was talking about.
“And what are you going to do?” he shouted. “And where? Here is your land, your family, your fellow priests. Your people. You can’t just leave them this way.”
After Ferdinand’s roar, Morgan’s soft whisper gave a huge contrast.
“I know I can’t. But I must.”
Ferdinand grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him.
“Are you under some curse, my friend?”
Morgan moved his face just beside the king’s ears to whisper to him. Not that they had too much company.
“No. I am under a blessing. Watch me.”
With these words, he broke free of the king’s arms and jumped towards the open window. Ferdinand was sure that Morgan had gone insane but if he had the slightest chance, he had to gamble on it. So he rushed after the priest but he was too slow.
Morgan jumped out but as Ferdinand looked out, fighting his tears he only saw him flying like a feather.
There were three of them, all hiding under cloaks and moving like shadows. Meeting by the seaside, at the border of the haunted region formerly called Heresh was certainly not the best idea. The three women threw down their cloaks in the same moment. They were all Keepers of the Law, a few of the remaining Elves of Ygg-Chall. And now they knew that they were ready to prepare for a rite that could easily change the fate of all the remaining clans, all of their people.
The eldest one, Izara took a cup that contained a few drops of blood from all the three of them. Then, she dropped it into the sea. It immediately started boiling. They didn’t move, just stood there, waiting for anything to happen.
In a few minutes, the boiling disappeared and the head of a blue dragon rose up from the water.
“I greet you Shalassa, High Dragon of Water. I am grateful that you have listened to our prayers and came to join us.” began Izara.
“Your offer is intriguing.” the dragon said, with the voice of an old woman. She certainly was old, eons older than any of the threesome. “You dare to defy my sister. I must consider you very courageous.”
“I offer you our land, our people and our fate. Please, guide and protect us.”
“From whom do you need protection?” the dragon asked.
Izara paused for a minute.
“Mainly from the demons. The caverns did not shield us well. The demons feel our soul and fight just as well as they fight above the ground. We were severely decimated. We don’t want glory, we want survival.”
“But the demons are gone…”
“No one can guarantee that they truly are.” interrupted Namala. “And we do not trust Malassa.”
Silence fell for a few moments then Izara continued.
“When we needed her help, she left us. Now we are going to leave her to suffer. To be forgotten.”
“You really are brave.” She turned her face to Namala and moved her head closer to her. Soon, all of them realized how gigantic Shalassa was.
“Who are you, young witch?” she asked.
“My name is Namala. I am the daughter of Ylaya and Lethos. I am the Keeper of the Law in the Shadowbrand.”
Shalassa turned back to Izara.
“Let’s see.” she murmured, her voice gurgling like the sea itself that slowly became stormy. “I give you home, guidance and shelter from my sister, and the power she has given to you, to defend yourselves against the demons if they attack again.”
“Is that possible?” asked Manileth, the third witch.
“I know many secrets. The warlocks of the Clans will be as mighty as they were if you follow me. But the price is more than your fate.”
They looked in each other’s eyes, trying to guess what is in the mighty dragon’s mind.
“Tell your wishes.” said Izara.
“First, no follower of my sister can walk upon this land. The followers of Malassa, or anyone using her magical rites will be sentenced to death.”
“May your truth help us to strike the deadly blow on your enemies.”
“Second, she will be my leading priestess.” Shalassa bowed to Namala.
The others looked insulted while Namala was terribly surprised.
“My Lady…” she stammered but the dragon interrupted.
“I knew your father. I knew it even before he returned to Ygg-Chall and married your mother. He was a witty warrior and a good sailor. I will only be sure when I know that my reign is in the hands of his blood.”
The longest silence followed the dragon’s sentence. Namala didn’t even dare to look in the eyes of the fellow witches.
“We agree.” said Manileth. “Namala will be your primal priestess.” Even though hearing that, Namala was almost ashamed. She didn’t expect this to happen. And she didn’t want it to happen. And she was afraid that the dragon knew more about her father than she did. He had never even mentioned anything about his past. But she was too shocked to ask her about Lethos.
“I go now. My guide, Shavalar will meet you soon.” With these words, a huge whirlpool appeared and the dragon sunk to the seas again, where she belonged.
They spent a few minutes staring at the place where Shalassa appeared to them.
“What did she mean by soon?” murmured Namala.
“Now.” said a cold voice behind them. They turned around in one second and Izara even pulled a small crossbow. They faced a huge being that had the upper body of a human woman with lots of arms and lots of jewelry but under that, she was an enormous snake.
“I am Shavalar, queen of the Nagas.” she said calmly. “Come, warlocks. We have some groves to build.”
The young mage closed the door as silently as he was able to. Not many fellow wizards had the right to step in this sanctuary, to visit the greatest living Archmage, a living piece of history. Zehir had resigned from the lead of the Silver Cities, a few months after Ashan was purged from the Demon Lords again. Now, old as he was, all he concentrated on was his research of magic and mechanics. In fact, he was not totally powerless, but the current leader of the Circle, Arekhin had no more real capabilities to be an emissary. He was neither a warrior, nor a determined decision-maker. Yet he was the person to speak the most with Zehir.
And it was just the first time that Haakem was allowed to meet the old man. Yet most of the Circle knew he had great magical power and knowledge (in fact, although he didn’t like hearing or saying it, he was one of the most enlightened mages), for some reason he was not favored in Zehir’s eyes and as a result of this, he was a bit disregarded among the Circle’s members.
As he stepped in, he just saw tons of arcane books, vials full of various liquids, dragon teeth and scales which he had recognized immediately, lying in total chaos around. For a moment he thought that the old master was robbed.
Then, he just heard his old, broken voice behind some books.
“Sit down, please, my friend.” He coughed badly as Haakem did as Zehir asked him to.
“Do you feel well, Archmage?” He was quite afraid. It wouldn’t be considered as a heavenly sign if Zehir died during his first visit.
“How should I, my young friend?” he asked back, laughing. “I am old. I was leader of the Circle just as my beard started to grow. But it is not my time. The desert is even not the same as it was in my time. Now, even the leaders of the desert tribes have flown into our army like rivers flow into the sea.”
There was something in Zehir’s voice that made Haakem’s fury rose. He himself was a descendant of caravan leaders from the desert. His own grandfather served very well in the ranks of Havez, the most respected wizard among the tribes when they held off the demonic armies at Abdel-enin. Zehir sounded like he disrespected the sturdy people of the desert.
“You called me, Master.” said Haakem.
“Ah yes.” he raised his head. “Come and see, please.” Haakem stood up and followed Zehir through the room. He was surprised how long the room was, and compared to that, how much light was in it that seemed totally natural. Especially that it had a roof.
“I am not fully aware of politics, Wizard, but I am not blind.” Zehir continued. “You are powerful and quite ambitious. We all know,” As he was speaking, they arrived to the room’s window. “that I am going to pass away sooner or later. It would be logical for Arekhin to succeed as head of the Circle but I would like to listen to other possible candidates as well.”
“You say you don’t trust Arekhin, Master?” asked Haakem.
“This world made everyone suspicious and we can’t fault any human for it. But I have other fears. I completely trust Arekhin but he is limited as a mage and as a statesman. I have been wondering if it would be better for a more charismatic person to take over.”
“Why me…” Haakem tried to interrupt.
“You are pretty much respected among the fellow Wizards as I hear. You are, even if you don’t agree with ancients. Let me show you a thing.”
He pointed out of the window, to a thing that looked like only a huge amount of steel and copper. Until Zehir moved his fingers. Some amulets and orbs started tingling and glowing. Haakem didn’t need too much brain to realize that those were fully loaded with magic. Zehir’s magic. The gigantic mass started moving and imitating the movement of a Colossus. But excluding this, it didn’t resemble to any of them. As Zehir was orchestrating it, it raised one of his steel arms and hit the ground with such force that Haakem could have thought that it was a minor earthquake.
Then, Zehir stopped it. He was heaving, breathing much faster than normally.
“I heard that you also have done some magical research.”
“Yes, Master, but I can’t show it to you unless on the battlefield. The desert bloodline, you know.” He tried to make joke of his own ancestry, looking for Zehir’s reaction but he looked too tired to even speak.
Haakem raised his wand and conjured a big, glowing, round-shaped substance that just had a flashing red point of light on the top of it. As he was finished, Zehir raised his wand and hit it with a magic arrow. It started to lean but after some movement it looked like it had hit a rubber wall, and pulled itself back to standing position.
“Hmm… It is definitely no arcane crystal. What is this for?” asked Zehir quietly.
“It is a shield, bait. I have researched some creatures, bandits, orcs and other beings that get confused from the flashing light and hit the bait itself instead of hitting our troops.”
“Nasty little trick.” Zehir seemed to smile for the first time. “And it remains.”
“Yes, Master, it is durable. More or less…”
“As any other spell.” Zehir interrupted. He turned to Haakem, with his breath returned to its normal rhythm. “I have to tell you that I have enjoyed this conversation and the exhibition very much. Youth always surprises me.”
“Master Zehir, please.” started Haakem. “Please don’t take it as an insult but it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Please, stop.” interrupted the old wizard again. “If I presume well what you are talking about, I am not interested. And you shouldn’t be, either. You are very young and you don’t know many things. I have fought the insanity Markal has brought to this land and I have seen the dragons of Mother Asha. They are more powerful than any Necromancer could imagine. Please, leave.” His voice was harsh again, it was a command he had given.
Haakem did as he was ordered to. As he was walking through the passages he went through again on every word he said or heard at Zehir. He was satisfied, because the old wizard had shown him his greatest present assignment, the giant golem, a forged elite weapon of the Academy. And at the same time, he was dissatisfied because he might have told Zehir more than he should have.
Only a few sailors were on the ship just departing from the small village. Not that it disturbed Ghemzin. He wanted to be alone, just to listen to the voices of the sea. He was a bit uncomfortable when he was forced to leave the lands of Sylanna but as he was looking back to Erewel, he felt that something was missing. Harmony was not restored and that had an effect on the whole elven society.
They were humiliated and ashamed. They were ones of the eldest creations of Mother Asha. And at the same time, they were the youngest as well, being hunted by the demons of Urgash. Ghemzin himself remembered seeing demons wearing elven clothes and the cut ears of dead elves as a trophy. Sometimes, he also had nightmares with them.
He turned back, and looked at Erewel. Once, it had been a mighty fort guarding the pass to the Irisus Sea. Today, it was only a small village, newly founded by elven sailors, rangers and fishermen. He felt unfortunate. He really longed to see the Sylvans of the past, healthy and glorious. But during Sareth’s rule, the trees were left unguarded. No one had ever seen a pixie or a dryad since the restoration began. Unicorns were only bred in the Empire. Some told tales about the green and emerald dragons, some even claimed that they have seen one but there was no proof that they survived.
He took a deep breath and he could almost feel the fog that had been created by the dragons of the elements long before even his father or grandfather was born was slowly sliding down in his throat. The Irisus Sea had the best shelter anyone could have imagined. But still, many sailors got lost in it when they tried to hide from the demons and no one really knew what was happening on the islands.
Except one person. Teglienil was rumoured to being as young as Ghemzin was now, when Kha-Beleth was released. And one of the few who survived the attacks. There were whispers or more like legends about her, legends that the greatest female ranger ever had gone insane while fighting the Sovereign’s hordes and she left to the Irisus Sea because she wanted to commit suicide. But, time to time, ships appeared and said that she had found harmony and Sylanna’s wisdom in these islands but only a few people were considered worthy enough to meet her.
And he hoped that he was one of these people.
He had run out of ideas, except this one. It had been many months, not much less than half a year since he had been having weird and confusing dreams. He wouldn’t have considered it as a sign, if he hadn’t seen them so for such a long time and no other dream.
In each of these dreams, he was surrounded by beetles in various sizes and colors but for some reason, he was never afraid of them, even if they had been staring at him like ferocious predators, with stings that seemed to be longer than an ordinary blade. He felt that he was in command of them. And that made him feel uncomfortable, especially that he didn’t like beetles, not even bees and wasps that were befriended with the elves and nature herself.
He had asked his father, he had asked the wisest people who he had known but he couldn’t get any advice. His last hope to cleanse his mind was to set sail and find the hiding queen of the fog who was said to know more of arcane events than any other living elf.
Morgan commanded his horse to walk slower. He wasn’t able to ride too much, even despite Sylath’s blessing that eased up travelling for him. But twilight fell on the land very quickly. He was riding beside some ruins that were used to marble but they were hardly recognizable due to the fire damage they had suffered. He went closer to have a look at them, even forgetting that there could have been restless souls waiting for him. His look fell on an almost complete statue and he realized that he was at an old monument of the Empire’s ancestry, their heroes. And he stood just beside King Brian’s statue. He touched the stone gently, like it had been a living person.
And suddenly, it moved. It turned its head towards Morgan, blinked one and then, it flew up like it had wings. Morgan knew it was Sylath’s blessing again. He knew that the Dragon-god of Air had given him a destiny and he only wants to show and demonstrate his power by allowing him to make things fly. He was almost driven mad when he realized this ability but Sylath has chosen wisely. And he thought that he had done that, too.
As the statue flew away and disappeared behind the horizon in a short time, the crimson sunset has reminded Morgan something. The last time he saw this type of red color. On the day when he encountered the Demon Messiah.
The palace had already been burning when they entered it. From the outside, they had heard cries, from both humans and demons. He was worried about his leader, Ferdinand but the only choice they had was to leave him behind. Ferdinand was a much more skillful battlefield leader than the two magicians who only brought a couple of squires and golems into the palace.
Just as Zehir’s golems opened the gate, Sareth jumped from his hiding place with a gigantic sword that was at least twice as big as he was and slashed all the golems into halves. A great horde of hell hounds appeared behind him and they jumped to attack.
While the squires blocked the hounds, Zehir and Morgan looked in each other’s eyes at the same moment. And in the next one, they both summoned their Phoenixes. Sareth also entered the battle, and with the hell hounds aiding him, they were a clear mismatch for the Unicorn Swordsmen. Soon, the only troops left were the Phoenixes. As Morgan’s fury rose, he almost jumped into the middle of the bloodbath, but Zehir held him back.
“I have a few tricks for him.” And he raised his wand. For a moment, the hounds seemed to be confused and then, they attacked their own master. “Fight chaos with its own medicine.” he murmured.
And in the next moment, the old sorcerer tore a ruby from his cloak and threw a fireball towards Sareth. Many hounds died but the Phoenixes, children of fire, were unharmed. But even the magnificent and swift birds were slow enough for the Demon Lord.
He jumped up, landed behind them and struck Zehir with his sword who collapsed. And in the next moment, he was back fighting with the Phoenixes and the hounds. Morgan had no time to think. Both Phoenixes were alive so he supposed that Zehir lived as well.
He fell down on his knees and prayed to Elrath. He prayed to call the Light’s vengeance on the spawn of Urgash. As many hell hounds and even a Phoenix fell by the hands of Sareth, Elrath called his fury and stroke the Demon Messiah with a lightning. His voice was not even human, much more like a growl, as he was fighting for his tainted life.
But they succeeded. Sareth collapsed and the fiery gaze under his helmet vanished.
Just as they managed to wake up Zehir, they decided to burn the corpse to banish the only half-man, half-demon history had known.
He was more than furious. Much more than furious. Just a small time ago, he ruled over the whole world of Ashan. And now, he was imprisoned in the deepest burdens of Sheogh. And moreover, he was not just a prisoner, he was powerless, and even imps laughed at him and taunted him. And he wasn’t able to strike back.
Fools who believed that fire could consume a child of chaos, a child born in fire. He was dead, that was true. At least, one part of his body, the flesh, his human part died by the magic of Elrath and was burned. But the other half stayed alive, maintaining his whole consciousness and power and furthermore, he was able to speak with his creator, his mother, Urgash, while burning. He was told that his path is not over yet. He might have lost his ability to walk upon Ashan freely, but his mind lived. He was no half-human, he became a member of his father’s kind, and still he remained one of the strongest Demon Lords Urgash has created.
He could have been, under certain circumstances. He was imprisoned by the soul of his murderers. Urgash told him that he was totally powerless, weaker than any other being dwelling in Sheogh, until a demon murdered Morgan and Zehir. The question would have seemed so simple, if he hadn’t been in such a state.
“Poor, poor Serath.” a woman’s voice said. She laughed grimly. “How unfortunate is to see a high lord in such a shame.”
“Who is this?” he yelled. “Who bothers me? I have my next program – to find out what to do with you if I regain my powers.” His mind was only consisting flames that almost blinded him. If he could explode, if he could burn like a demon.
“If you do.” the voice said. Somehow, it sounded familiar. “But who will help you, Sovereign?” The laugh became louder and louder.
“Who are you?” Sareth asked, trying to calm down. It was a very hard thing to do.
“Now, that’s much better.” the female answered, with an even sharper laugh. She was certainly not human and definitely a succubus.
“Xana.” Sareth said as he realized the voice.
“What a pleasure.” Xana replied. “The almighty Lord remembers me. My life was not in vain.”
“If you want to laugh at me, there are some imps somewhere around here who used to throw rocks towards me.”
“Aaaah, I like this Sareth way more.” the succubus answered. “You know, I always thought you have inherited your sense of humor from your mother…”
“Why are you here?” Sareth interrupted.
“And your dedication from your father.” she answered.
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
She laughed again.
“You might be surprised, but some of us might want to have more fun.”
“You mean kill more.” he said.
“Indeed. And not the members of our kind, if possible.” she continued.
“Why have you come to me?” he asked again.
“I don’t like war among demons. Many demons talk about what would have happened if their old leader returned. If you knew how did I struggle to find you.”
“You’d better not mention struggling or you would become familiar with it.” said Sareth.
“And you’d better not speak to me this way. I might be the most dedicated person to help you.”
“Should I be proud?” he asked grimly.
“I was your right hand. And I would like to become it again.”
“Accepted.” he spat out.
“How generous you are. Even if you are not human anymore.” Xana said. “So, being your prime general, what should I do to see my Sovereign again in full power.”
For a few moments, Sareth stopped to think. Xana was a succubus. Therefore, she wasn’t a good example of trustworthiness. And at the same time, he didn’t know anything about what was happening in Sheogh. He didn’t know if Xana had her own ambitions in that conflict she had mentioned.
He was thinking. And he realized again that he had not many chances.
“Kill Zehir, the Archmage. And Archbishop Morgan.”
Xana nodded.
“It will be very exciting to trap them.” she said.
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black99
Tavern Dweller
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posted March 28, 2011 02:21 PM |
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“I hate this part,” he said.
“Just dunk yourself in like I did.”
AND I LIKE THIS
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