Scrolls of Iria

Discussion in 'Archive' started by Fan7asticMrFox, Sep 24, 2013.

  1. Newtonium

    Newtonium Member

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    James looked on in horror as soldier after soldier poured down the stairs like a tidal wave of humanity, sweeping into the cellar. The guttering flame of the lantern was the only illumination in the dense, stone-clad room, and through the darkness, the soldier's eyes glinted and glowed horribly, like those of some foul, undead beast. He leapt forwards to join the few defenders, and his vision narrowed; his world encompassing only the soldier in front of him. He despatched the soldier with a rapier thrust into his eye, deep into the soldier's diseased brain. He withdrew his sword and made as if to sheath it, but at the last second drove it between the armour plates at the waist of the soldier behind him; the clanking of his armour had alerted James to his presence. James ducked, sliced, thrust and parried, but the never-ending horde of soldiers drove him back. He stumbled and fell on the floor, scooting backwards as a guard, skinny as a twig and lithe as a weasel came in for the kill. At that moment, though, the guard's body started to glow red and heat, like that from the castle ovens, blasted out of it. James shielded his eyes, and when he looked up, the guard lay on the floor, his body melded with the molten metal of his armour. James scrambled to his feet and looked for his saviour. Suddenly James' eyes lighted on him. An old man, not as old as Malefius, stood staring at James. Thomas, James thought, that's his name. Thomas gave James a wink, then busied himself fending off the next wave of attackers. James dropped into the fencing posture and readied himself to fight – or die.
     
  2. Simpson17866

    Simpson17866 Contributor Contributor

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    Marcus barely noticed himself being dragged away from the doorway and seated against a corner in the wall, he barely noticed his not being able to identify the person, and he barely noticed that the person was slapping him to try to keep him awake. He barely noticed that the abominations had started swarming through the doorway like impossible, predatory locusts, and he barely noticed his caretaker leave him to keep them from killing everyone. He barely noticed that they seemed to be ignoring him, he barely noticed himself reasoning that they probably felt he was too weak to worry about until everyone else was dead, and he barely noticed himself agreeing with their likely assessment of him.

    He barely noticed himself thinking that his body was too weak to do anything directly at this point, he barely noticed himself deciding against trying to make the monsters' armour burn them for fear that the other survivors would be in greater danger of the heated metal than the monsters themselves would be, and he barely noticed himself fearing that trying to disrupt the air and water inside their bodies would be as useless as removing it had been. He barely noticed himself worrying again that the entire room would be brought down if he tried to kill the monsters using the masonry from the floor and walls.

    He barely noticed that the monsters, despite their impossible resilience against the oblivion he'd created in the stairwell, were nonetheless being killed by his allies' swords, however too few and too slowly. He barely noticed himself deciding that the monsters' own armor was the only thing he would probably be able to use, he barely noticed himself remembering that - even with his skill in Earth spells in general - metal had always been harder for him to control than pure stone ever was, and he barely noticed himself deciding to try something anyway. He barely noticed himself whispering "Magnesia," and he barely noticed himself twisting a monster's head off with it's own helmet. He barely noticed himself repeating the spell on another monster, and another, and another, and he barely noticed himself counting that even these deaths were not impacting the stampede of more and more damnations into the abattoir.
     
  3. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    The time for barricading themselves in or placing traps and tripwares had come and gone. The guards breached the cellar and began pouring in, with bloodlust in their eyes and killer intent in their cold hearts. Now was the time to fight and take a more active role in defending what little territory they had.

    "Dammit," Serana muttered under her breath. She didn't like to fight. She preferred to be two steps ahead, so situations like this didn't arise. Life was supposed to be a game of chess, not a sweaty, drunken, wrestling match.

    The more capable members of the group were doing all they could, but it was clear the group was slowly losing ground. Serana stowed her blade for a moment, so she could drag the nearly-unconscious mage out of the way; the one who'd tried to use some form of wind magic moments ago. Even in his weakened state, he was too useful to let die. His name still escaped her, though she called him all manner of things as she struggled to haul him further from the frontlines.

    She left him propped up in a corner, but unless they turned the tide of battle, he wouldn't be safe there for long. None of them would.

    There has to be another way out of here, Serana thought as she pulled out a small vial, barely larger than a perfume bottle. She shook it and the liquid inside began to glow as brightly as a small sun in her hands. While the others fought, she used its light to inspect the various wine casks and storage bins in the cellar. One of these has to be a secret exit, she thought. She saw the one Malefius and the other two men had emerged from. Is it safe? She thought as she peered inside. They wouldn't have come down here if it was.

    But what other options did they have? Lord Jaros might know of more secret passages, but he was nearly dead. Serana hesitantly took out a brown, cloudy potion. There was one creature that knew this castle better than any human and she knew how to summon that creature to aid them. She covetously held the potion, saving it for the right moment.
     
  4. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    Annette

    The moment the first soldiers tramped down the stairs, chaos reigned.

    Annette, as a servant, wasn't expected to know many things, nor had she been expected to know how to react to this scenario. But in the end it was both a combination of old knowledge gathered from books, unintended eavesdropping, and an uncanny connection with her cat that ended up taking over.

    Yowling as if possessed, Jinx puffed up her tiny body to nearly twice its size, glaring at the soldiers when she scented blood, and her owner's fear. The kitten was fiercely protective of her master, and had actually been known to attack one or two servants before.

    But Annette paid no heed to the little one now as a soldier roared and flung his sword sideways, the point just skimming the girl's stomach and drawing a line of red as she bent double to escape its bite.

    Kill or be killed. The thought ran through her mind as she spotted the moment when the soldier overbalanced and stumbled sideways. Taking advantage of it, Annette launched herself forward and jumped up, lashing out with both feet and connecting to the side of soldier's neck, sending him crashing to the floor. Another soldier that had been running forward tripped over his comrade, and she snatched a dagger from his belt before driving it home in the back of his neck, then finished off the second one by stabbing him in the same manner before he recovered from her previous blow.

    Backing up away, stomach heaving, Annette curled her lip and snarled like a she-cat defending her litter when a third began edging closer to her. Kill or be killed. Now is not the time to play guilty!

    Still, she yelled in alarm and brought up the dagger just as the soldier brought down his blade. Too heavy, too strong, he forced her to the ground and pinned her there with a leaden boot, effectively knocking the wind from her. But the blades had crossed hilts, and he was too close to attempt to bring his blade back and stab at her lest she stab him in turn. Jinx spat at the man, leaping high and slashing her tiny paws through the gaps in his helmet. Annette felt several drops spatter her face before the man reared back, trying to get the kitten off of his face, but it was all she needed.

    Driving the dagger deep into his exposed midriff from below, Annette kicked the man away and scooped up her kitten, preparing for the next assault. Breath rushed in and out of her body like a bellows, and sweat began to mingle on her dress where blood hadn't already soaked it through.

    Can't give up. she told herself grimly.
     
    Last edited: Oct 4, 2013
  5. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Thomas, Lydia, Nikko

    Thomas clumsily tossed Mordin out of harms way by casting a quick spell. Even for him it was incredibly difficult to perform magic without an incantation and the crevices in his face deepened. Magic always came at a cost, his eyes looked hollow, his muscles tingled from exhaustion and he clenched his jaws together in defiance. After having saved the boy with the rapier, he was about to fend off another assailant when the red-eyed farmer, armed only with a pitchfork, fell. An arrow portruted from his skull. Thomas noticed a young girl and knight storming down the winding stairs, throwing themselves into the fray. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one to notice. Another possessed soul, barely in his teens was striking his club down at the girl with the bow. A low thud buzzed the air, like a muffled cannon shot. The girl was thrown to the side, out of harms way. "Watch yourself!" Thomas called. Mordin tried to cover the cracked gash on his arm, his skin peeled to the side and blood seeping out of it like a slowly squashed tomato.
    Lydia shuddered inside as her arrow ended the life of another man. Suddenly though, there was a club flying at her, and then she was being pushed aside by some invisible force. She landed in a corner, slightly dazed, but glad to be alive.

    People where fighting, and most looked like they were on the verge of collapse. Pushing herself up, she nocked another arrow and shot it into the knee of a man going after the person who had just called out to her. Scanning the cellar, she noticed a small boy, the one that she had hidden in the storage room with. Looking around in what little time she had, she noticed a few familiar faces, people she had seen around the castle. But now wasn't the time for introductions. She yanked an arrow out of one of her victims, cringing at the sound it made, and then quickly nocked it and ran to the wall opposite the staircase. A moment later, another guardsman fell with the arrow to his neck.

    Thomas had no time to show his gratitude, he tried to clear the space between him the knight, and the girl. "Get over here!" he shouted towards the two newcomers, the mass of possessed, blood-hungry souls was beginning to thicken and if they allowed themselves to be cut off, they'd surely fall. In an act of desperation, Mordin pushed himself to his feet, stumbled and nearly tripped to the floor. With his right hand glued to his other arm he began to scout the other side of the cellar for an exit. He kicked against a loose stone, slammed his shoulder against a large barrel in the hope of revealing a hidden entrance. He even wrenched his dagger in the lock of an iron-barred door to the far end of the cellar, but to no avail.

    Nikko fought his way through the mass of red-eyed bodies. The worst part was having to kill the mindless farm women and servants who'd fallen under the enchantment. Hemera glowed with a bright light, illuminating the dark cellar and making it easier to hit vital spots. Our last stand must be here? With boys, girls, old men and women as our soldiers? We're like rats in the cellar fighting against rabid dogs...unless a miracle happens we have no chance.
    Despite the hopelessness of the situation Nikko did what he could to keep soldiers away from the younger people. Suddenly he was back to back with Thomas. "Any way out of here?" He asked the older man as he parried the blade.

    Thomas had resorted to punching holes in his assailants with the pitchfork from one of his previous victims. "Not that I-" he pierced a soldier's neck "-know of." From the corner of his eyes he could see Mordin struggle to find an exit. Good boy, he thought. His assistant had been of great use these past few hours, even if the lad didn't realize how much. Returning his gaze to the incoming wave, he began to fight with new vigor. He had to get back to Mordin before the boy's injures proved fatal. If only Mordin understood how valuable he was, perhaps he'd been less reckless.

    Lydia fired another arrow, feeling her supply dwindling in her quiver. She needed to be more conservative, she thought as she wrenched yet another out of a dead attacker.

    "Is there any way to seal of that door?!" she shouted, moving closer to where Nikko was. He was with the man that had found her and Mordin before.

    "Perhaps, if we had made it here ahead of the hoard we would have been able...but there is to many of them now." Nikko removed the head of a red-eyed boy no older than himself. He blanched as he watched the lifeless body fall to the ground. Everything in Nikko wanted to retreat and cower like a rat. If had been by himself he would have tried to escape, but there were those who needed protecting. Thus his code of honor wouldn't let him retreat, even in the face of certain death. The only thing left to do is take as many of those things with us as we can...there is no chance for us.
     
    Last edited: Dec 18, 2013
  6. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The Cellar's Final Stand


    Lord Robert Jaros coughed alive. The splutter and choke and gargle all landed on his kingly attire, blood staining his white fur lapel. His eyes were wild, staring at the crowded stairwell, then across to the mammoth kegs, before finally settling on Malefius.

    “Is… is that really you?” Jaros gingerly touched the old man’s cheek, his bloodied lips slowly curling into a smile. “I had hoped to see a friendly face before I passed.” He gave a breathy chuckle, which only succeeded in causing more pain.

    “Passed? Oh no my Lord, you will be ruling Highguard for many more years to come.” Malefius said.

    “I knew you were a deaf old fool, but not a blind one as well. I will be gone from this world soon…” He grabbed the mage by the collar and ringed him in. “… but not without one final order.”

    “What is it, my Lord?”

    “Bane.” Jaros said dryly.

    “Commander Bane?” Malefius looked over at the red eyed monsters tearing their way into the cellar. “You don’t mean…”

    “Yes, Malefius.” Jaros replied. “A darkness has entered his heart, his very presence chilling to the bone. This… evil is in his control.”

    “He has been a stranger of himself these past few months, ever since we returned from our quest.” The wizard admitted.

    “I sensed it too. Alas I was too foolish to act. And now, worst of all…” Jaros held his breath, the pain seeping through his wound. “…he has the scroll.

    What!?” Malefius bellowed. “But… but how?”

    “He forced its location from me, I could not hold my lips.” Tears began to well in the Lord’s eyes. Malefius could see the guilt wash over his face, the fear of what he had been made to unleash.

    “If he has one of them, then h-“

    “He will go to The Three Rings for the second.” Jaros grimaced again, the pain reeling him into a ball, his breath more and more shallow. “That is where you must go. You have to warn them! Bane’s demon army will grow and grow as he stomps his way down the mountain, but his descent will be slow.” Jaro’s voice was now frail and the garmin leaf had become fully soaked in blood, the crimson liquid pouring from his wound. “Go to The Three Rings. They must build a defence, together as one nation… or Hanavar is doomed…” His eyes began to close.

    “But how, my Lord?” Malefius asked, staring into the face of the dying man. “We are cornered here, there is no escape!?”

    “Go…” He coughed out. “… the pickaxe rack… Dwarves… Nv’Idyor…”

    And then he was gone. Malefius cradled the Lord’s body in his arms, the silver and gold hair radiating in the torch light. Highguard had truly fallen. And his last true friend was gone. This man – this man had done everything for Malefius, bringing purpose back to his life when he had been expelled from the order, providing him food and shelter when the rest turned away. He remembered sitting in the carriage to Mortegarth, with the skies bleak and his future bleaker. Through the sand and dunes the horse drawn carriage rode, only to be stopped by one man. He sat on his steed with such presence and grace, staring down the carriage driver. “Come Malefius.” Is all Jaros had said.

    Even as the world crumbled around them, he still didn’t regret his decision to follow Jaros that day. And yet now he had to leave that man; leave him in the ruins of his own empire, leave him in the hands of the red evil. It was all too much to bare.

    Slowly, he rose from his perch beside his master, glancing at the Lord’s body for one more time, before hobbling over to a metal stand in the corner littered with pickaxes. There were hundreds of them. Rusty ones, new ones, bronze ones, silver ones, large ones and small. They were all here. Even a chisel or two. His eyes scanned the rack while his ears were unleashed to a torrent of screams and shouts behind. The red eyed soldiers had increased their efforts, climbing over each other in a desperate attempt to enter the room. The stairwell was full to the brim, a darkened abyss with hundreds of crimson eyes glowering on. Malefius frantic search continued in vain. There were just too many.

    No, wait! Nestled between two large rusty pickaxes was another, as dark as night. The whole thing was black, yet somehow silver as well, the light from the torches transforming it each time. In one moment it was duller than a wooden doorknob, but in the next it was whiter than the moon itself. Onyx. It was a beautiful mineral known as onyx and to an unwise man it meant nothing, but to Malefius, it was the Dwarves’ favourite crafting material.

    He pulled with all his might on the blackened crystal and the wall beside him grumbled and spat, showering his brown robe in dust. The air from within blasted through the cellar, its cold breath chilling every soul in the room, casting back the red devils ever so slightly. The stone door rose, revealing more darkness.

    EVERYBODY THROUGH!” Malefius shouted, his elderly voice suddenly youthful and strong, booming loudly across the stone walls. The group slowly backed towards the entrance, still fighting wave after wave of evil, struggling to push them back for a moment’s reprieve. The old man stood by the onyx handle ready to close the door. First through were the boys and girl, then came Thomas, followed swiftly by the woman, the young mage and a number of others. The knights defended hard with their shields out in front, a wall of steel to give the rest precious time. And slowly but surely they held the line.

    It was time. Malefius pulled the handle. But nothing happened. He pulled again. But still the stone kept there, not moving an inch. No time, Malefius thought. They had to press on. He entered the tunnel with the others, while the knights continued to block. The red eyes charged forward, their faces filled with emotionless fury, forcing the brave warriors down into the tunnel.

    Boom! The stone door came down like a guillotine, grinding the evil soldiers into saw dust while their blood flew in all directions. Key, Falcor and Nikko could only gasp in shock as the block of stone thrust down, inches in front of them.

    Silence. The frantic pace of the cellar had been extinguished in one swift blow and all they could hear now was the slow echo of water, dripping in the deep recesses of the cave.

    “Move down the tunnel – I cannot risk them reopening the passageway.” Malefius said. His words were gruff and his body was strained but as the others carried on, he lifted his staff above him and shouted, “Rokari Tak’dow!” The tunnel began to shake. Small rocks fell at first, quietly bundling along the uneven terrain. Then larger ones cracked down to the ground, piling together until suddenly the whole entrance fell in on itself, thundering with an almighty boom!

    By this time the rest of the group had made their way further in, meandering along the narrow path with dim torches. The tunnel slowly widened, and a faint blue glow began to appear across the walls. It was like moonlight bouncing off an untouched river, so serene, and as the group carried on the tunnel opened out, expanding into a gigantic cavern. The ethereal blue radiance glimmered all around the expanse, showering its light on the distant walls, but in the centre, raised up on a plinth of raw stone, was a marvel of craftsmanship and beauty. Glorious structures of onyx and sapphire sat proudly, towering up to the roof of the cavern. Yet, at the edges of the stone platform some of the buildings had shattered and fallen away, their remains in the pit below, discarded like broken bodies.

    “Well, I guess this is Nv’Idyor.” Malefius gasped, staring at the city. “Come, let us cross. We can rest for a short while.”

    Together they negotiated the rope bridge that connected the tunnel to Nv’Idyor, edging slowly over the rotten wooden slats. Thankfully they all made it across, though Key chose to dance and bounce over just to make everyone more nervous. Each time he stomped on the rickety bridge, Serena’s hand moved ever closer to her dagger.

    But it mattered not. They eventually made it into the towering city, passing through the arch where the gates once stood. The streets were fairly narrow, to a human anyway, with bricked pathways and signs plotted around, now faded and illegible. A small flock of houses sat to the right, straight edged with no doors or windows, just arches and holes. However, to the left was a manor of sorts. The structure had three sides with an open courtyard in the middle, boasting a demolished water feature directly in the centre.

    So they built a fire over it. The homely orange glow from the flames twinkled along the onyx walls, illuminating the darkness of the cave and keeping them safe from shadows. Cloths were rolled out as beds and pots were positioned over the fire, eagerly awaiting some food or a stew to cook. But Malefius took no part in it, perching himself on a broken pillar to allow himself some rest.

    “I beg you all, do not stray too far away. We do not know what dangers lurk within these caverns. Nv’Idyor was once a grand Dwarven city but sadly, it has long been abandoned.” He said, kicking at a small piece of rubble. “If any of you can hunt, some rat would no doubt suffice. But go together in a small group. The rest of you, I recommend warming yourselves by the fire. The inside of this mountain is just as cold as the outside.”
     
  7. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Serana abandoned her search for an exit the moment she heard Lord Jaros's garbled, bloody cough. She rushed to his side, but kept her distance. Though she couldn't hear what was said, it was quite clear Malefius was grieving his lord's final moments in this world and it would be improper to hover over them. Despite the urgency of the situation, she respectfully gave him the space he needed to grieve.

    But the moment Lord Jaros's spirit left his body, the elderly mage rose to his feet and sprang into action. Serana followed him, with a glowing light potion in hand, as he searched for something. An exit, she hoped. Please let it be an exit. The man rooted around amongst the pickaxes, chose one and gave it a tug. Like magic, the walls began to part. They all poured through the opening and into a tunnel. Malefius shut the stonework behind them and, for extra insurance, collapsed the entryway to ensure they would not be followed.

    The group walked in relative silence. Serana moved close to the front, letting the intense glow of her light potion guide her. Her dagger hand itched and her sharp gaze watched for any threats in the tunnel, but found none. Soon a blue glow illuminated their path. An ethereal light bounced off the sapphires embedded in the stone. Even when Serana sheathed her light potion, moving her hand to cover its light, the cavern was still lit enough to see the way.

    Once they made camp in the ruins of Nv'Idyor, and a fire was established, Malefius spoke:
    “I beg you all, do not stray too far away. We do not know what dangers lurk within these caverns. Nv’Idyor was once a grand Dwarven city but sadly, it has long been abandoned,” He said. “If any of you can hunt, some rat would no doubt suffice. But go together in a small group. The rest of you, I recommend warming yourselves by the fire. The inside of this mountain is just as cold as the outside.”

    Serana stood on the outskirts of the group, pacing slowly, with her hands on her hips. The fall of Highguard was quite a shock, but that was behind them now. She had to face the future and start over. It wasn't an entirely new concept to her. William also knew what it was like to lose everything and have to begin again. He looked to her expectantly.

    "What do we do now?" he asked quietly.

    "You, stay with the group and get some rest," Serana said. "Me, I want to get some of these stones," she said, looking around herself at the onyx and sapphire. The stones were everywhere. The tools to mine them were not. She only needed a small sample, to try in a potion or two…

    "I bet one of the mages will help," William said. "Their magic can move rocks."

    "Shhh," Serana said, putting a finger to his lips. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "This is something mama has to do herself. It will be our little secret. There's probably a pickaxe or chisel or something in one of these buildings. It will only take a minute and the others won't even know I'm gone."

    "That's what I'm afraid of," William said. "And now's hardly the time to go trying new potions. What if it makes you sick... or worse?"

    Serana merely smiled. "Science is always an adventure, is it not? Trust me, I'll be right back." She covered her light potion with her hand, cloaking herself in darkness and silently slipped away from the group.
     
  8. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    Annette

    “I beg you all, do not stray too far away. We do not know what dangers lurk within these caverns. Nv’Idyor was once a grand Dwarven city but sadly, it has long been abandoned.” He said, kicking at a small piece of rubble. “If any of you can hunt, some rat would no doubt suffice. But go together in a small group. The rest of you, I recommend warming yourselves by the fire. The inside of this mountain is just as cold as the outside.”


    Annette stroked her hand along Jinx's back, eliciting a throbbing purr from the kitten. The blood from the previous battle had now dried and was leaving her feeling tired and disgusting. Maybe there was some water around here to wash off in? No, in this cold a bath was out of the question, but when Annette eyed Jinx, who was now licking herself clean on her shoulder, she couldn't help but envy the kitten.

    Well... she was a servant. Time to go back to work as usual despite the circumstances.

    "Come Jinx. Let's go look for food." she murmured into the kitten's ear, but remembering the warning not to go alone, she paused at the edge of the firelight. "Umm... would anyone want to come with me?" She was careful to keep her gaze downcast -as easily ignored as possible. If no one answered, she would go on her own. She didn't plan to go too far anyways.
     
  9. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Mordin, Thomas, Annette, Jinx.

    Mordin ran as fast as he could through the tunnel, digging his nails in his arm to counter the pulsing ache in his arm. His legs tired rapidly, and he came to a half-halt, eyes searching for Thomas. William passed him, then the servant girl, then the old man. The air in his lungs seemed to freeze, tickling at his intestines. Where was Thomas?

    “Are you alright?”

    Mordin flinched. He tried to steady himself but soon toppled into someone's arms. All he saw was blurred blue lines, dancing across the jagged ceiling as Thomas carried him along. His mentor put him down on cold, rocky ground. He couldn't tell how much time passed before Thomas returned and put him down on a makeshift bed.

    “Let me take a look at this,” his mentor whispered. The crevices in his face seemed even deeper in the flickering light of a fire. Thomas whistled through his teeth, the boy's wound wasn't looking good. The rough cotton of his tunic had sewed itself into the gash.
    "Umm... would anyone want to come with me?"

    Thomas looked up at the servant girl. "Not now," he replied simply, then returned his attention to Mordin. “Actually,” Thomas reconsidered, “could you lend me a hand? I need to get this off him,” he said, pointing at Mordin's bloodied tunic.

    Annette's eyes widened in alarm, and she nodded, quickly heading over to help. Setting the kitten next to the boy's head she stroke Jinx once, and the kitten immediately set to licking the boy's cheek.

    "It'll keep him awake hopefully -and distracted." she hissed in the elderly man's ear. Fat chance, Mordin thought quietly to himself and turned the other cheek on the small cat. Annette focused on the wound and the fabric stuck in it.

    Thomas made a cut in the tunic where it had connected to the wound, then pulled it over Mordin's head, revealing the mark of a spinning wheel, tattooed just above his right nipple. In spite of all the blood he had lost, Mordin's face flushed a bright red and he was thankful that they were mostly shrouded in darkness.

    “We need water to cleanse the wound,” Annette said.

    “I have a flask in my rucsack, I will need the blue vial as well,” Thomas replied as he put a hand to Mordin's forehead.

    “You're burning up.”

    "I am fine," Mordin complained quietly in a voice coarse as bark.

    Annette headed over to the bag and riffled through it. She found the flask easily enough, but it took another second before she discovered the blue vial at the bottom.

    "Here," she said, coming back over and setting them beside the boy, within easy reach. When the boy rasped that he was fine, she planted her hands on her hips and met his bleary gaze.

    "No you are not. The first thing that you need to acknowledge when you are wounded is that you are not fine. It is the height of folly to not seek help when it is needed. Plus, you are the youngest in the group, so don't go playing the old man trick, it won't work -no offense to you sir." Annette hastily added. Heat crawled up her face at the slip-up, and she snatched Jinx up and planted the kit on her shoulder once more before taking the flask and opening it. Pouring just enough water to soak the wound onto the boy's arm, she rubbed in the moisture and watched as her fingers were gradually coated in red, but the scab was loosening. Of all ways to get something out of a wound, this was the most painless she knew of.

    "She's right you know. Now be still," Thomas said. But Mordin kicked his feet as the girl and Thomas cleaned the wound, then resorted to chewing at his sleeve to counter the occasional flares of lanciating pain. "What's your name?" Thomas inquired in an attempt to distract.

    "Annette." she replied, still continuing with her work, but then an almost melancholy look came to her face. She quickly shook it off though, and Jinx suddenly perked up, leaping down from her shoulder and stalking off into the darkness.

    Moments later, there was a loud squeak and a scuffling noise. A hiss, then silence.

    The little black kitten trotted back to the motley group with a rat nearly twice her size clenched firmly in her jaws. A thin puncture mark on Jinx's shoulder showed where the rat had bitten her, but otherwise she appeared fine.

    "Good girl." Annette muttered, not even glancing back to see what had happened. Jinx purred, setting the rat down next to Annette's ankle before leaping up and clawing her way back up to Annette's shoulder by using her blood-soaked dress as a ladder before curling up in a ball at the base of her throat. The girl didn't even seem remotely surprised by that.

    "Okay -it looks like we may be able to get the fabric out now." she said.

    Thomas uncorked the blue vial, helped the boy sit up and brought it to his lips.

    "Drink," he said.

    Mordin gave him a nasty look, "what for?" His voice rough as if he'd been screaming for a day. He wrinkled his nose as the scent of the azure blue liquid hit his nostrils, "it smells."

    "It's not meant to smell or taste good, it's meant to help ease the pain."

    "What pain?" Mordin grimaced. Thomas dented the wound with his nail. "Aah!" Mordin hissed through his teeth.

    "That."

    Reluctantly, Mordin swallowed down the blue substance, his expression growing nastier with every gulp.

    "There. All better," Thomas comforted as he helped Mordin lay down, then tucked him in a blanket from their rucksack. Mordin smiled a grateful smile at his mentor, then rested his eyes on Annette. "Thank you," he whispered, then dozed off.

    She couldn't help the rueful smile that came to her face. Stubborn boy. If they made it out of this alive, she figured he might just end up in a powerful position.

    Still, life was fickle. Best not to plan ahead.

    Looking down at her ruined dress with a disgusted look, Annette picked up the dead rat by its tail and handed it to the old man. "He suggested a rat to eat -now he's got a rat to eat." she said, eyeing the leader of the group from where he lay near the fire. "As for me, I need to get cleaned. Jinx's tongue can only do so much, and I am not about to give any predators the idea that I'm easy pickings." she exclaimed, heading toward the fire before snatching up her stolen dagger. The other woman had vanished as if out of thin air.

    Biting back a groan, she plonked down next to the fire, wondering what to do.

    Thomas soon joined her, he kept himself busy by repacking his rucksack. He gave Annette the occasional queer look before he finally spoke. “If you need to clean up so badly, perhaps she has some spare clothes,” he said, pointing at Lydia, though he doubted she had. Apart from the crackling of the fire, the place was dead silent. Thomas glanced over his shoulder at Mordin who was soundly asleep.

    “He's not my son,” Thomas answered preemptively. “He's from a druid tribe, hence the-” he gestured over his chest, “mark.”

    Another pause.

    “They sent him out to fetch some water from the well when his tribe was raided. Only he survived. There's no saying what would've become of him if I hadn't been around,” Thomas explained. He opened his mouth, as if he considered telling more, but restrained himself. “What's your story?”

    Annette smiled almost grimly at the memory. "Typical stray -but as she is black on one side many people consider her the 'black cat' that brings bad luck. She's just another calico really-" the girl paused when Jinx mewled, then stroked the cat for a few moments before it drifted off to sleep again. "-I think it may more be to do with me. I've been in many incidents with animals, but oddly enough I have never been harmed by the most dangerous ones. As a toddler in the Keep I was always getting away from the nurse, and she found me in the stables between one of the stallion's forelegs one time. It took several hours before I decided to crawl out because he kept kicking anyone who came too close, and -fearing that I may be stepped on- the servants avoided going close to him after the first few tries. Things such as that have happened many times in my life. Animals are just naturally protective of me I think." The corner of her mouth had turned up in a slight smile at the thought, and after a moment she focused on the man again.

    "I'm afraid I never caught your names-" she said, motioning towards the boy. "The magic makes sense now, though. Don't druids have to use herbs and stuff a lot? Or am I wrong to think that?"

    It took Thomas a while before he understood what the girl was rambling about, but he didn't show it. “I am Umr-,” he paused and smiled. “Just call me Thomas.” He turned his head over his shoulder, “that's Mordin. He's the druid, not me, though I did study their craft for a little while.” Now that he was done repacking, he slung the satchel over his shoulder and dropped it besides Mordin's bed. “It's not just herbs,” he said. He found himself acting far more casual than he felt, and was grateful for it. Panicking wasn't going to get him or Mordin out alive, and he valued his own life and the boy's too much to take any changes. “Oh listen to me rambling, let's go out and see if we can find something better to eat." He began stalking of into the darkness, before summoning a small flame in the palm of his hand, lighting the way. "How'd you like mushroom soup?” he called over his shoulder.
     
    Last edited: Oct 6, 2013
  10. Simpson17866

    Simpson17866 Contributor Contributor

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    Judging by the massive caverns surrounding him, Marcus guessed that he was not in the cellar anymore.

    He tried talking to the other people with him, and he found out that the older wizard – Malefius – had opened a secret door to the ruins of an old Dwarf city after tending to some dying noble. Marcus himself had apparently been collapsed against a wall for the entire battle, but nobody said that he had needed to be carried out when they fled, so clearly he had been awake to run instead – albeit, he suspected, with at least a little help; a hand to hold if nothing else – which meant that his inability to remember anything about the battle had to be from his memory being too scared of itself instead of from him passing out completely.

    He sat by the fire for a few minutes, trying not to think about the massacre in the castle above, about all of the blood and the screaming, about the impossible monsters that could somehow survive in total nothingness… He forced himself to get up, hoping that exploring these strange ruins would provide a better distraction. He marched himself through the silent, lifeless, empty streets, but constantly found himself thinking about how the castle above had become it’s own ruins, how the hallways in the castle above were just as silent as these below and yet were nowhere near as empty, how these old ruins were merely lifeless while the new ruins above were truly dead…

    Marcus broke down and cried on the ground for what felt like hours before forcing himself to return to the others.
     
  11. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Nikko stood alone on a stone platform, cleaning his blade. A stained cloth wiped clean the remnants of blood, allowing his blade to shine again unhindered. Buried in it's hilt was a white gem, the source of it's light enchantment. Hemera was the legendary goddess of day and light, burning away the darkness whenever she emerged. This was the reason Nikko had name his sword after her. The young knight sheathed Hemera and looked out across the old dwarven ruins. Shadows danced in the distance as if there were hidden enemies stalking them. The silence of the cavern's was deafening, causing Nikko to long for the hustle and bustle of the castle.

    Suddenly he paled, as a horrible realization dawned on him. He had sent his faithful servant, Bartrand to the servant's quarters. The red-eyed demons had slaughtered everyone in there. God, no...please let him have escaped. He was my only friend, the only one I could count on. The only one who knew my secret.
    Even as Nikko prayed he knew there was little to no chance his one and only true friend in this world had survived. His blond hair fell around his feminine face as he dropped his head. A tear slid down his cheek, the only one he would allow to fall. As a knight of Highguard, he had to remain strong for the others. He had to bury his grief and anger deep so that he protect the others.

    Forgive me, friend, for sending you to your death. I will do whatever it takes to atone for the loss of your life, and for the innocent lives I forced to take due to that damned curse. If you're up there, and can hear me. Tell God I'm sorry too, for this lie I've been living. It won't be much longer...promise.
     
  12. Crumpets

    Crumpets Senior Member

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    "Crybaby." Key frowned as he stood over the younger knight. It took every ounce of his willpower not to push Nikko over 'just for the hell of it'. "Goodness, Nikko you're such a girl! Do improve upon your masculinity and properly represent the knights of Highgaurd, would you?"

    Key turned back towards the tunnel and glared. "On a more important note, however, I left my bow in the castle and that's quite upsetting. You know how much sentimental value that thing had? I bought it from the royal bowyer like two years ago!" He kicked the dirt and then sighed. "I suppose it is as the wise say: the past is passed and should no longer be in the present paisaje. Chin up, kid." Key punched Nikko in the shoulder and then left to explore the ancient ruins.
     
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  13. Tara

    Tara Senior Member

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    When they had left the secret passage to the cellar Raven and Ty
    son had found chaos; the red eyed people had managed to break into the cellar and the few remaining survivors had tried to defend themselves, but they had clearly been about to lose the fight. That was when the wizarde had called out to them. "EVERYBODY THROUGH!"
    Raven had only noticed the secret entrance then. She didn't know whether she hadn't noticed it because she hadn't looked, or because she hadn't known it was there, but she had known t was a way out, maybe even the only way out that had not been destroyed that night. Raven hadn't needed more encouragement to make her way toward it. She had used her knife to clear the way, not stopping to look who she cut down, not looking to see if she killed anyone; she had only cared about reaching safety. Survival. That was all she had cared about, because it was all she knew. She had been surviving for 8 years and she would not stop doing so now.
    When the wizard had pulled the handle Raven had thought she was too late, but the entrance hadn't closed. The wizard had tried it once again before he had entered the tunnel with the others. The knights had still been fighting off the red eyed people when Raven reached them, she had looked up at them; her eyes begging them to let her through, she had been hoping they would see she was one of them. They had let her through. Raven hadn't even looked whether Tyson had been behind her or not.
    ***​
    Raven realized she had fallen asleep the moment she woke up. Her dream had been about the moment she had escaped Highguard. Red eyes, the stench of blood and the cold steel scraping her skin. Raven shivered, closed her eyes and opened them again, but the feeling of dread didn't leave her. It felt like they had been in this godforsaken place forever and Raven longed for fresh air, she wanted to feel how the cold wind playfully pulled at her hair, but she knew it would probably take a while until she would feel that again.

    Raven studied the people around her, hoping she would find something interesting, but all she found were signs of the past battle: Annette and a man were taking care of a wounded boy, one of the knights appeared to be crying, another knight was talking to him and at least two people were somewhere out of sight. As always Raven's presence was hardly noticed, if she was being noticed at all. At least that one thing had remained the same. Knowing that Raven curled herself up and fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.
     
  14. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Just one more thing, and then I'll go back, Serana thought as she struck her flint against a sharp rock, trying to strike a fire. Taking things too far was a habit she couldn't seem to break. Perhaps she was greedy. It seemed like every time she went in search of one little thing, she returned with everything, and this time was no different.

    She had initially set out in search of onyx and sapphire. Well, that didn't take long to find. She stuffed her satchel with more precious stones than she knew what to do with, then got distracted by some glowing mushrooms. She picked about a dozen of those, as well as some strange-looking moss and about a hundred other types of cave-grown fungus she'd never seen, and stuffed it all in her satchel.

    She told herself she would go back, but got sidetracked again, this time by a ruined building. The rooms were large and lined with small desks -- smaller than most dwarven furniture. To her surprise, she realized the building was a school! An ancient dwarven school, where the ancient dwarven tongue was once taught to ancient dwarven children. Scholars had been trying to decipher the dwaren language for years. If she could find just one textbook she could do it in a matter of minutes…

    Well, she found the book. In fact, she found a small stack of them, covered in dust. Two were fairly intact. She would sell one once she returned to civilization. The other, she would use to teach herself their language.

    In a dark classroom of the abandoned schoolhouse, Serana set up a small laboratory to concoct a potion. A stone bowl held water. Next to it was the book, on a stone tablet. Next to that was a pile of dry cloth to act as kindling. A flask of light potion cast an eerie white glow on her face, making her look like a sorceress or a witch.

    "C'mon, dammit," she muttered, while trying to get the cloth to catch fire. The schoolhouse was totally quiet, except for the sounds of her frustration each time the flint struck the stone.

    * * *​

    Marcus told himself that he probably wasn't completely lost; if nothing else, it had to be a good sign that it was just as dark here as where he was trying to get back to. Somehow, that observation reassured him even less than he thought it would.

    Marcus was starting to get the distinct impression that he had been – or at least should’ve been – told not to go running off on his own. He didn’t recognize any of the streets, any of the buildings, and he saw no signs of life from anywhere that would show that anybody from his group was in this area too.

    Except for just now. Marcus saw a light start flickering in a window about 20 paces ahead. He ran over to the building to find out who was there and if he or she had been smart enough – unlike Marcus himself – to keep track of where the others had set up camp.

    When he got to the window, he recognized the lady that had run the oddities shop he’d found outside the castle a few days earlier. Judging by the equipment she was setting up in one of the rooms, it seemed that – in spite of what she had told him that day – she did indeed know how make potions.

    Marcus suddenly remembered to check his pockets and realized that he didn’t have any of his own potions or crystals that he had been keeping in his room before the slaughter. He resisted the urge to punch himself in the face: granted, in training he had always tried to focus on improving his own abilities as much as possible so that he wouldn’t need to depend on potions that he could run out of in a real-life threat; however, he just had faced his first real-life danger since he’d let… IT happen to Melea, and it looked like his personal abilities, arcane or otherwise, would be dreadfully insufficient on their own.

    He knocked on the window to get – Serena? – Serena’s attention. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask him to actually make anything, but maybe she would at least need an errand-boy for supplies or something safe like that?

    * * *​

    Serana's gaze darted to the dust-caked window. A dagger was instantly in her hand and the flickering light potion gave her eyes a demonic bluish glow. She momentarily considered asking 'who's there,' but quickly decided against it. The identity of the intruder didn't matter. Whoever it was, was not welcome here.

    "Go away," she said warily, and moved around the desk, putting herself between the peeping tom and her potions. No, not potions. She was just an ordinary woman mixing some herbal remedies and burning a book or two. Normal human behavior. No magic, here. "There's nothing to see here. Go away!" she said to further reinforce that point.

    But, as Serana squinted at the window and saw the scarred face in the dirty glass, she changed her tone. "Oh, it's you," she said with mild annoyance. Or relief. Probably a little of both. She sheathed her dagger, picked up the light potion, and went over to the window, to get a closer look.

    She studied him for a moment, until an amused smile curled the corners of her perfect lips. "Marcellus, right? The useless mage who visited my shop a few days ago… the very same mage who passed out like a drunken biddy and had to be dragged to the back to the cellar, to avoid being tramped upon." She sighed. "You're welcome, by the way. Now get lost, dear… assuming you aren't already."
     
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  15. Simpson17866

    Simpson17866 Contributor Contributor

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    ... "useless" ... "drunken biddy" ...

    Marcus couldn't make himself respond for a few seconds. Or make himself look up from the floor when he did respond. "Sorry, m'lady, I was just wondering if you might, I don't know, tell me how to get back to camp? Or, maybe, if you might've needed anything? Like, um, maybe food? Or supplies for, well, something you don't need me to know about or..." he trailed off and started to turn around. "I'm sorry m'lady, I'm sorry."

    **

    "Dammit," she muttered as he turned and moped away. Although she wasn't interested in his company, if he wandered off he would almost certainly get lost again… and then the rest of the idiots would try to search for him… and probably get lost, too…

    I swear, it's like babysitting a pack of lemmings, Serana thought.

    She knocked sharply on the glass to get his attention. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?" she said. "Come in. I was only teasing. Come, come," she said, waving him over. She tried to lift the latch, but the window was corroded shut and its frame was too sturdy to smash. She pointed him to the left. "Go that way and you'll find a half-collapsed entryway. Go inside; I'm in the third room on the left," she said.

    The moment he was gone, Serana returned to the stone desk, where the dwarven textbook and the bowl of water awaited her. It was a teacher's desk, at the head of a classroom. She pulled the tangles from her sleek black hair, rubbed the smudges from her face, and put on her best smile. By the time he arrived, she was absolutely radiant.

    "Ah, there you are," she said and took him by the hand, leading him from the doorway to the desk. "Could you please do one thing for me, sweetheart? Just one little thing?" She placed his fingers on the book and gently ran them over the old worn leather. "Fire. Burn it to ashes, dear, like the big, strong mage you are. I know you can do it."

    ***

    Marcus took the old book from her and asked, "What would you like me to catch the ashes in?"

    "Let them fall here," she said pointing to a stone tablet. She grinned at the patch he had lifted to his forehead. "I'm sorry, is it too far to your left for you to see it?"

    "No, I'm fine, thank you." He covered his eye again so that it wouldn't see the brightness of the fire, then held the ends of the book's leather to let the pages fall. He held his free hand underneath the mass of pages and said "Incenda."

    Marcus guessed that the lady wanted him to be able to conjure for himself the caloric necessary to start the fire instead of just getting it by making something else colder. Unfortunately, pure creation and destruction had always been two of his - admittedly numerous - weak points, so even though Master Tiberius personally had always reassured him that manipulation was better anyway ("Everything is useful for something"), he still took the caloric from far enough under his feet that the floor wouldn't get cold enough for her to notice.

    The pages started blazing and withering, and he shook the leather above them to keep the fire from suffocating. Once the book was finished and the ashes captured, Marcus stepped back.
     
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  16. Mottahko

    Mottahko Active Member

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    The farmers and common folk in the hamlet of Idlewild had sensed something was wrong that evening. The cluster of houses was tucked away near the edge of the forest at the base of the mountain upon which Highguard sat. They had seen the orange glows from the mountain fortress. The leader of the hamlet, Trobecann had taken two of the best hunters to the city with them. They hadn't come back.

    The excitement had the people outside their houses murmuring to each other in hushed voices trying to guess the nature of the disturbance. Isen Holt had been outside too. When he had noticed early on he had swiftly gone into his abode and donned the blood red leather armor he had recieved as a gift from Lord Jaros himself for his assistance in a journey he had led them on in the recent past. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that this night he would need it.

    Now he sat outside with the others. He didn't offer his opinion on the matter. Not many of the villagers wanted it. He had been lucky to find a place he was at least tolerated. He adjusted his cowl, pulling it down and over to better hide his scars and silver ear piercings. He had his bow strung and was idly waxing the string while he listened.

    A noise out in the darkness. Faint at first, but starting to grow louder. "Shhh!" He hissed loudly at the crowd of villagers.

    Several bristled at the command from the elf. Most had the common sense to trust him though. And quieted the protests. Regen, the current deputy chief in Trobecann's absence moved up. A retired knight, the man's grey hair stood out in the broken moonlight. His corded arms however belied the fact he yet had strength left.

    "What is it?"

    Isen held a hand up for a moment as he peered into the night. A glint of moonlight off metal and he knew.

    "We're about to have company" Isen replied softly. He quickly wiped his bowstring clean and notched an arrow. The glowing red eyes were all he needed to see. Standing up, he let fly his arrow. A cry from the night indicated a hit. Coarse shouts echoed down the mountain face as the red eyed men began to charge.
     
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  17. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Serana touched her fingertips to the glassy water, sending gentle ripples cascading across its mirror-like surface. She held her hand there and stared into the liquid, intensely. For a moment it looked as if nothing was happening, then the ripples suddenly stopped. The surface was smooth once more and remained so, even as she pulled her hand away. The aetherial solvent was ready. If anyone were to listen closely, the water could he heard humming softly, as if buzzing with life. Other than that, and its peculiar ability to remain undisturbed by splashes or ripples, it still looked and behaved like ordinary water.

    She lifted the stone tablet and emptied the ashes into the bowl, like a cook emptying the contents of a cutting board into the skillet. The humming rose to a crescendo and the water grew cloudy. It even began to bubble. But, within a minute, the activity ceased. The water became water once more, but now bore a peculiar shade of blue. The ashes had dissolved completely, leaving not even a trace.

    "You've done me a great service, mage," Serana said with a delighted smile as she lifted the bowl. "Consider us even. I dragged your unconscious carcass from certain death and you gave me full knowledge of the dwarves." She brought the bowl to her lips and drank, sparing not even a drop, for to do so would mean skipping entire pages or chapters of the book that had been used to create it.

    When she was finished she set the empty bowl down. "Hmmmm…" she said curiously. "Tastes like… argh!" her head suddenly snapped back, as if she'd been struck. Serana staggered a few paces back and stopped. She stood that way for a while, as if in a daze and her eyes turned milky white as she stared blankly at the ceiling in a catatonic state.

    * * *​

    The lady thanked him, almost complimented him, and started drinking from the bowl. Marcus himself was thankful that his part in whatever she had just done had been quick and simple enough not to cause any danger this time; though he was nonetheless surprised that she had not seemed to have done much either, he told himself that she had most likely been doing quite a bit more preparation than it looked and that he’d merely been wandering outside for most of it.

    Suddenly, she jerked back and went very still. Marcus wasn’t sure what to do; it seemed like she didn’t want anybody else to know what she could do, he didn’t want to betray her trust if she wasn’t in as much danger as she looked, he hoped that her trance was just part of the potion’s intended effect, and he certainly hoped he hadn’t just killed anybody again, that his own part had been to simple for there to be a risk of anything that she wasn't expecting, but he’d never seen a potion – at least what was supposed to be a safe one – affect it’s recipient so abruptly and spasmodically before. He was starting to get scared.

    “M’lady? Excuse me, m’lady, are you all right? Is this supposed to be happening?”

    * * *​

    Gradually, the color returned to her eyes and Serana's gaze locked with his. As her senses returned, she heard his voice as a faint echo, in a distant dream. When she finally looked to him, she smiled warmly.

    "Oh, I'm more than alright. It was just… a lot to take in at once," she said and stepped by him. Well, it was more like she shouldered through him, as she moved purposefully toward the other textbook. Serana picked it up and began thumbing through the pages. The symbols and characters, which had been nothing but gibberish minutes ago, now made perfect sense to her.

    She laughed far too loudly --and, some might say, far too sinister-- and then began gathering her belongings. Serana picked up her satchel of potions and freshly-picked ingredients and slung it over her shoulder. She tucked the book under her other arm and wheeled around to face Matthew or Marcellus or Malefius. No, that's the other one. Whatever.

    "I will say this again: you've done me a great service, mage. This shall be our little secret. Knowledge is the ultimate power, and Serana Sylvania does not forget those who bring her power," she said with one hand over her bosom as she curtseyed slightly. She had a kind heart in there somewhere, under all the fluff and flesh. "Though she does occasionally forget the names of her customers…" she added, a little sheepishly.

    She had called him Marcellus earlier. Men usually lit up when a beautiful woman remembered their name. Since he did not, she could only surmise she'd gotten it wrong… or, maybe, he wasn't interested in her… no that's impossible, she had to have gotten it wrong.

    "Perhaps you would be so kind as to jog my memory while we make our way back to the others, hmmm?" she offered her hand. "Lead the way, sir. I'll take over once we get outside, since I do seem to recall the way back."
     
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  18. motormouth1312

    motormouth1312 Member

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    Tyson sat down beside Raven almost protecting her, he knew one or two of the few people standing around but he had to get answers so he looked at Raven one more time and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and stood up
    "EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he shouted to the group, accidently forgetting that Raven had fallen asleep
    "We need order and currently all I see is a burned up fucked up group who need to sort things out." He paused as he let his statement sink in. "so my questions are what happened to the castle, who burned the castle down and why did I have to kill at least 6 people just to get out!" he shouted confidently loud enough the whole group could hear.
     
  19. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    "EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

    Mordin, who had been soundly asleep until Tyson decided to disturb the peace and quiet, jolted upright, expecting to see some kind of fight. All he saw was the confused ranger shouting and losing his temper over nothing. Though Mordin had been asleep, and therefore couldn't be certain, he was confident no one had been talking, let alone shouting. He wondered then if the man in the white tunic had lost his mind. An ache shot through his arm as he tried to readjust his position, to try and get a better look at the madman.

    "We need order and currently all I see is a burned up fucked up group who need to sort things out."

    Thomas could just hear the last few bits of Tyson's rant as he stepped back into the circle of light, dropping two dozen or so mushrooms near the fire. "What's going on?" he wondered aloud, his eyes quickly identifying the source of the row. "My dear boy," he began as he approached Tyson, calmly, yet sternly, "do you really think that shouting will solve anything? You've just alerted whatever is out there, in the dark, to our presence." He stood just inches from Tyson now and towered over the boy. "Calm down."
     
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  20. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Nikko glared at Key as the older knight walked off. There were few people that he disliked in his life. His Uncle being one and Key being the other. That knight was like a child, an often rude child. It was hard to believe that he'd managed to make it into the ranks as a knight. Key was constantly putting him down, telling him he was weak, "too girly."
    One day he'll see just how 'girly' I am...stupid male knights...they all think they're so much better.
    Key's worst teasing happened during bathing or swimming time. Nikko refused to get in the water, not because he was afraid but because of his secret. He'd been called coward and worse. But the reward was worth putting up with all the jabs, teasing and name calling. The day he got his shield would be the day everyone found out the truth. Though, now that Highguard had fallen, would he still be able to get his shield on his 18th birthday? Would they have reclaimed Highguard by that time?

    He looked around the area and noticed Malefius was sitting by himself near some ruined pillars. Nikko crossed the distance and went to stand near the old wizard. "Is it true Lord Jaro is dead?" He asked with a heavy heart.

    “Hmph?” He said, his long stare broken from the fire. “What did you ask my child?”

    “Is Lord Jaros dead?” The knight repeated.

    “I am afraid so.” He looked at Nikko with regret, wishing with gritted teeth that this was all some cruel joke and that Jaros would jump out from around the corner. “These mountains seem deathly silent without him.” His thoughts still wondered to that moment, cradling his master, blood leaking from stomach and mouth. Bane. A darkness has entered his heart. Those words replayed in his head over and over, a chant almost, and he saw Jaros’ face floating in front of him. A darkness has entered his heart.

    “He was a good man. Bah! No, a great man. Few have ever stood so proudly.” He said returning to their darkened reality, Nikko’s eyes watching him closely. “You seem tense young one… was there something you needed from him?”

    "I..." Nikko dropped his gaze not exactly sure how to express what he wanted without sounding selfish. "Highguard has fallen. And it's Lord has been murdered. I have yet to receive my shield and become a true knight of Highguard. Now I worry that I'll never will be." Nikko paused. "Forgive my selfishness, Sir. There are much more important things to worry about."

    Bah! Receive my shield? Knights these days are all just posers; huge ceremonies for becoming one, great parties for your first quest… if you can call picking up milk from the farm a quest.” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “You know in my day, men would go out and slay dragons, protect villagers from marauding goblins and fight for the Lord’s justice. And when they had earned it, truly earned it, they would simply kneel and have a sword placed on each shoulder. They were knights, they were real men. If you don’t want to end up like that fool…” He pointed to Key, “… then realize there is more to a knighthood than a shield. Don’t be like every other knight. Earn it.

    At first Nikko was tempted to protest in anger but as he bit his tongue he realized the old wizard was right. So many men became knights just for the glory of it. Nikko had been no better. Though he did care about protecting people it was more so because of the knight's code than his own personal code. He knelt before Malefius. "Then I will protect all of you with my life. I swear to prove to you and myself that I am a true and worthy knight; not a poser."

    “Swearing is one thing. Proving it is another.” He said stroking his beard. “But enough of this, I must address the group.”

    Nikko motioned to leave, his face awash with disappointment, but as quick as a whip Malefius grabbed his wrist, pulling him to down to the same level. “Earn it.
     
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  21. Mottahko

    Mottahko Active Member

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    "What have you done!?" Regen cried, though he was already drawing his sword. Only two others in the hamlet owned a sword, and neither could wield it as well as the old knight.

    The villagers began shouting in confusion and terror, many of the men were running to their houses to get what few weapons they had. Many only had knives or bows, a club here or there. All told there were maybe twenty men that would be of any use in combat. The women and children huddled together began making their way to the houses on the far side of the hamlet.

    Drawing another arrow and sighting it Isen replied, "Preemptive strike. The fewer that make it to the village the better. Or do you think your still good enough to take on thirty men by yourself?"

    Regen glared at the elf and was about to reprimand him for his tongue but realized the elf was right. Instead he said "Dont miss you damn pointy eared bastard," before turning to rally the men of the village. Isen held his ground and continued.

    By the time the raiders had made it down the slope six of their number lay strewn on the rocks, arrows sticking from them. Once they had hit level ground the formed up in files behind men carrying large shields. This would've helped if Isen had been a normal archer. His next arrow on the string, he gave it a sharp twist and let fly. The arrow shot out and curved out around the shield bearing men, striking a swordsman in the side. He cried out and fell.

    He got off another four shots, three of them hits. By the time they met the mob of villagers their numbers were nearly even. A vicious melee insued. The villagers fighting desperately for their homes, lives and the lives of their families.

    Isen managed to work his was back while firing getting to the edge of the fierce battle. One, two, then a third and a fourth all fell to arrows fired from his short, powerful bow.

    Several raiders managed to knock torches down off their brackets and threw them into houses before being born down under a press of enraged villagers bolstered by the success of Isen's shots and the commanding presence of Regen.

    However when a raider charged Isen, he knew he was in trouble. He had just let fly another arrow and didn't have time to draw. He slid the bow down and as the raider closed upon him her swung it by the end at him. The raider blocked but it was a feint. Isen drew a knife from his belt and grabbed the raiders sword arm before he could pull it back. Isen pulled the man close and stabbed him savagely in the side where the breast plate didn't quite meet up. Over and over violently the man was stabbed. Isen grimaced as blood splattered his face and robes but he felt the raider's strength leaving. The man did manage a punch that connected squarely with Isen's face. He kept it up though finally dropping the body.

    By that time six villagers were left but only two raiders remained. They were fleeing back up the mountain. Regen was approaching as Isen took a couple deep steadying breaths as the adrenaline rush ebbed. He retrieved his bow and fitted an arrow. Taking aim he dropped one of them.

    "We did it... " he panted. Stopping as Isen fired. A cry from the night indicated a hit. The last one was getting away. Isen drew out a long hollow tube. He grabbed a short arrow and slid it into the tube and drew back as far as he could. The fleeing man was several hundred yards away by now. Letting go the tube came back and flew away. The short arrow flew off at an incredible speed into the night. Isen could see the faint figure stumble and fall. He lowered his bow and turned with Regen to look at the villagers desperately trying to put out the flames on the houses. There were only twelve houses in the hamlet five of which were burning. One of those had almost compeletly burned down. The two of them joined the efforts to put out the fires.
     
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  22. Newtonium

    Newtonium Member

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    James sat in the darkness of one of the dwarven houses, his back leaning against the cold, hard onyx of the wall. He pulled his legs up to his chest, exhaled and, for the thousandth time, wished he could have known his mother.

    She'd died in childbirth, they'd told him. James' father had told him that James was just like James' mother; strongly independent and very proud, but fiercely loyal and protective of those she cared for. James looked like her, too; he had her hair and deep hazel eyes. He was built like her, as well; skinny to a fault, but lithe and agile. His father said she'd been an acrobat in a travelling troupe of minstrels, but left her companions when they visited Highguard.

    He only had one picture of her, a small painting hung above his head. With a lurch, he realized that that picture was probably gone, torn down and trampled by the guards in their raid. He sobbed, put his head on his knees, and cried.
     
  23. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The Plan

    He had been silent for long enough. Watching each member shiver on the cold floor as they tried to sleep, or sip luke warm mushroom soup through broken bowls. Time for rest was over. The time to act was now.

    Malefius cleared his throat to try and grab everyone’s attention, but it was hardly more than a whisper in the expanse of the cavern. “Everyone.” Still his frail voice was lost. “Everyone!” Nothing. Key continued to prance about, skipping past Nikko every now and then with a quick quip. Wimp. Girl. Cry baby. Thomas stayed himself by Mordin’s side, a brow of concern as the boy murmured in and out of sleep. A few were even missing. He hadn’t heard anything from that woman… was it Sabrina? That was it. Probably. Quintus’ apprentice Marcus hadn’t been seen for a few hours either, or the other boy he had been with. Come on now Malefius, round the troops.

    A rocket of bright light soared to the stone heavens. Reaching high above the grand tower of Nv’Idyor it exploded, bursting into a glorious flash of purple and red. Onyx everywhere revelled in the light, colours dancing on its shiny canvas. All had turned at the noise, watching the cavern brighten like a rainbow, following the trail of smoke back to Malefius’ wrinkled hand.

    He cleared his throat once more. “Now that I have your attention, I think it’s time I explained to you all what is happening.” He watched as those he had thought lost slowly worked their way back into the courtyard, slipping through the cracks in the walls. “Highguard has fallen. Our Lord is dead and we found ourselves homeless and alone. We are all that remain.” He fumbled his way to the fire, guiding himself with the edgewood staff. “And because of that, we must stick together. The realm has no idea what is coming; the red eyed army will sweep across the land like a plague, devouring all in sight until Commander Bane’s task is complete. But what that is, only the Divines know.”

    He gazed over the fire only to see eyes, full of fear, return back at him. Most of the group were mere children, virgins to the real horrors of combat and war. Yet somehow, they had to become heroes. The heroes that Hanavar needed. “Yes, you did hear me right. Bane is behind this. Why, you ask? I do not know, but what I do know is that he has stolen a very important scroll from Lord Jaros tonight. The scroll of Iria; or one of them at the very least. The short truth about these parchments is that they possess otherworldly powers, magic so grand and fearsome it could tear the world apart, but only when the three of them are brought together. That, I believe, is what Bane is attempting to do.”

    The darkness ahead of him shifted in the flames, deceiving the old fool’s eyes. He stared hard at the back of the courtyard but the shadows quickly stopped. Strange. “Hmmm, now where was I? Oh yes, the scrolls. The second one is hidden away in one of the cities of The Three Rings. The oldest brother, Portus, will no doubt have its loc–” The darkness flickered again and Malefius tilted his head like a curious dog, only to be hampered by his foggy eyes. “–action. He rules over Darn. That is where Bane marches. And that is where we must go, before it’s too late.”

    The flames were playing tricks on him. They mocked him each time he spoke, twisting the shadows of the cavern abyss. And every time he went to look they stopped, it didn’t matter how hard he squinted. “Hmmph. And that is why we must travel to Idlewild. I have an old friend there, and he knows these peaks better than anyone; if we can find him maybe he can lead us down the mountain. The roads will be too dangerous to travel, making the wild our only option.”

    The darkness grew in size, lifting its cloak high above the courtyard and weaving it in the firelight. Each lick of flame slowly waned, the shadows absorbing its power and Malefius could only murmur and squint towards the back of the courtyard, clutching at his staff that little bit tighter. He flicked his wild stare to each member of the group, before settling on the two large yellow eyes at the back of the square, gazing back through the darkness.

    Prepare yourselves!” He hissed. “We are not alone!” The edgewood staff was lifted high and a burst of white light protruded from the top, blinding the huge troll in the courtyard. It shrieked at the brightness, raising a gangly hand to its bug eyes and long, claw like nose. The troll towered above the Dwarven houses with its sickly thin frame, the brown skin barely stretching around the bone, and it bore its mangy teeth at the humans, blood stained and full of stringy gristle. Releasing another ear splitting screech the monster charged towards the camp fire, swinging its giant wooden club on into the embers. The blaze imploded, spitting hot ash all across the courtyard, and now only Malefius’ staff light remained. Twisting its head at the pale white illumination, the beast narrowed its eyes and sneered, charging once more.
     
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  24. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    "Oh, look, someone's showing off," Serana teased as a bright light illuminated the 'sky' over the Kniv. She and Marcus were till making their way back from the ruined schoolhouse. Although she was tired from the long walk and lack of sleep, she still found the strength to make snarky remarks.

    She and the mage reached the courtyard just as Malefius began to address the gathered faces, many of whom seemed just as weary as she was. Around the fire, the carcass of a roasted rat and the remains of some kind of stew suggested a meal had been prepared. And she'd missed it. She found William asleep on the hard ground, with an empty bowl beside him.

    Well, at least the boy didn't go hungry, Serana thought with a rare smile, though her stomach kept reminding her there was nothing to smile about. She sat down beside him and ran her fingers through his hair while the old man relayed Jaros's last words.

    "So, I didn't misread the lord's words after all," Serana whispered to herself. Bane. The Three Rings. She'd read those whispered words on Jaros's dying lips. The 'Scrolls of Iria,' however, was a part she hadn't heard…

    Unfortunately, the time to rest and contemplate these new development was quickly snatched away. A lanky, gangly creature lumbered out of the shadows, carrying an enormous club.

    Serana sprang to her feet instantly and snatched William up by the collar as well. The boy came awake instantly, dazed and confused. "Run!" she said, leading him by the hand as his sleep-leaden feet staggered after her.

    "W-what's going on?" the boy whined. It wasn't the sort of thing anyone would like to wake up to.

    "I don't know," Serana said as she pulled him through a crack in the wall and into the remains of the building, whose courtyard they'd made camp in. She and William found themselves in a dark hallway.

    "It's… some kind of giant or troll or something," Serana said, peeking out through the crumbling stone and praying the creature wouldn't notice them or that the walls would be sturdy enough to withstand its blows. Whatever it is, it hates the light, she concluded after the beast smashed their fire. "We need light," Serana said, "and lots of it." Unfortunately, she'd already used her only light potion and needed sunlight to make another.

    "Where are the mages?" William said sleepily, as he rubbed at his eyes.
     
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  25. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Nikko's sword came out of it's sheath with loud scrape. The moment it was in his hand he willed it's enchanted blade to shine brightly. "Realize there is more to a knighthood than a shield. Don’t be like every other knight. Earn it.”
    Malefius’ echoed through his mind and soul. The troll charged the old wizard and Nikko sprinted forward swinging his sword at the beast's knee.
     

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