Scrolls of Iria

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

  1. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The Journey to Darn


    “It fills an old man’s heart to see such unity and compassion, even in these dark times. We go to Darn as one; to warn them, to find the scrolls and ultimately, to defeat the evil that is Bane.” His words echoed through the cave tunnel and no sooner had he said it, he turned and marched towards the exit, leaving the others to hastily follow behind.

    They each emerged from the cave with a renewed energy and warmth in their hearts, which only seemed to grow in size as they stepped outside. The moon had dipped low behind the mountainside hiding itself away and the usual blizzard winds were especially calm, lightly grazing across the forest of pine trees. And above them the night sky shone; a blur of greens, blues and reds gliding across the starry canvas in a beautiful aurora. The rainbow of the night enveloped the sky in such sweet symphony, sweeping down the mountainside and towards the direction of Darn.

    “By the stars...” The old man gasped. “It seems the Great Mother favours our quest, she guides us with such heavenly light. Lead on Isen, take us to Darn.”

    And so with a spring in their step the heroes ventured down the mountain, veiling themselves in the shadow of the forest and steering clear of the roads. The northern lights above continued to sweep along, dancing in the darkness before the dawn. Yet as the group descended the ridge shrill screams started to snap at the serene silence, fires running riot in Breker Pass valley below. Sleepy hamlets and villages were lit up across the plain, as if hell itself had risen from underneath and plunged them into the fiery abyss. The group were silent as they watched from afar, safely hidden in the forest cliffs, yet in that moment their shoulders were heavy, the enormity of their task staring them dead in the face, the distant flames twinkling darkly in their eyes.

    One by one they dragged themselves away until only Nikko was left, unable to avert his stare from the horror he had been unable to stop, his knuckles turning white as they clutched the hilt of his sword. He cut a lonesome figure amongst the trees, but another slowly marched up beside him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

    “Your time will come.” Malefius said. “But know this – more innocents will die before we are done. I pray you have the strength to see this through. I pray we all do.”

    * * *​

    The dew covered dawn fast approached, the thickets and bramble and leaves all coated with icy droplets, and the beaten path frosty and hard. Isen had done well, leading them swiftly down the Bosmir Peaks through the pines, across the east flowing Seldom River and finally into the Twitching Woods. The river had been especially tough to navigate; opting to avoid the bridges they waded through freezing muddy water and onto the embankment the other side, all under the cover of darkness.

    They were paying the price for it now though. Their shortcut through the wilderness had given them a day’s lead on Bane, but they marched through the Twitching Woods with soaking wet clothes and shivering purple lips. The early morning sun could not break through the undergrowth, the winter touched grove proving too dense, constricting all warmth and hope from the group, and the frost covered trees tangled together unnaturally, twisting around one another and closing in. On either side of the dirtied path the thickets became larger and the brambles became sharper, ripping through the soggy clothing and biting at their skin.

    In fact Malefius could barely see to his sides, though he blamed his age for this as much as the fauna, and the old wizard squinted through the wall of white bushes as they marched, just able to spot the main road not far away. Their path ran parallel to it, and a few paces along it a wooden carriage had overturned, with one of the wheels still spinning on top. Standing nearby was a young woman in a dirtied white apron and patched leathers, with a grief stricken look on her face and a small red cut brandished across her cheek. Isen now stopped to observe the woman, gazing at her through thick grove hidden away at the side of the road, keeping low and deadly silent. Yet she turned and stared right back at them all, revealing her pointy elfish ears from behind her golden locks and beaming a worried smile towards the heroes.

    “H-hello?” She called out, waving her arm about. “Is someone there? Please… please help me. I think my Farn is stuck under the carriage. Please, you have to save him!”

    Decision Time: Click Here
     
    Last edited: Oct 30, 2013
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  2. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Mordin, Thomas.

    Mordin was shivering and sneezing most of their way through the frostbitten landscape. The wet and cold had washed away the slimy troll blood and Mordin noticed that his companions were no longer keeping a distance from him or covering their noses when they came near him. In all other regards however, Mordin considered his state to be worse. For the past few hours the frozen tips of his toes had begun to call the heroism of their journey into question. What if they would just starve? Perhaps Thomas had been right all along.

    Fire had scorched the earth where once villages had stood. The irony of seeing the cold world burn kept Mordin staring mesmerised at the simmering remains of a hamlet, until Thomas pulled him away.

    "How are you feeling in your arm?"

    "Its cold and it aches, but it doesn't sting anymore," Mordin replied as he sat down on a rock beside Thomas. His mentor nodded in approval. "There's no time now, but I'll have to refresh the bandages once we are somewhere safe." He ruffled Mordin's hair and smiled, "you understand."

    Malefius led them off the main road and through the wilderness. By the time they spotted the overturned carriage, miniature swamps had formed in Mordin's boots. He looked up at Thomas. "Shouldn't we help her?"

    "No, there's something wrong here," Thomas said thoughtfully. "We should move on."
     
  3. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    The group crouched in the underbrush, studying the mess in the road.

    "Agreed," Serana said, in response to Thomas's desire to move on. She kept her voice at a whisper. "That wagon's been hit by archers and it looks too heavy to move. I doubt he's even alive under there. And how would we transport him if he is?"

    Through the encroaching frostbite and fatigue, they could barely carry themselves. The last thing they needed was to possibly get hit by archers while trying to save a badly-injured man. He would only slow them down. On the other hand, the elf woman was probably an eyewitness to whatever had taken place. She might have information that could save their lives... and she wasn't likely to give it up if they abandoned her in her hour of need.

    But there was no time. They either had to save the man and hope the woman yielded useful intel or abandon them both and hope doing so didn't cause trouble further down the road. Dammit, Serana thought as she reached into her satchel and pulled out a vial or red liquid. A healing potion. It wouldn't heal major injuries, but it would give the man enough vigor to carry on, so he wouldn't slow them down if they managed to free him.

    "If we're gonna do this, we have to do it quick." Serana sighed. "This forest is alive and tarrying here is a death sentence."

    "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's help him," William said and she shot him a caustic glance.
     
  4. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    James had been helping Annette move along with the others, and while on the way they'd managed to scrounge two long, thick branches that Annette now used as crutches. Still, the trip hadn't been easy for her, and Annette had nearly collapsed several times. Her thin, bloodstained dress was barely even a windbreaker against the cold, and her teeth chattered.

    At seeing the Sun elf's predicament, Annette's heart twisted, but she didn't outwardly voice her opinion. She couldn't do anything to help anyways in her condition. But when Serana actually looked as if she may help, Annette found her voice:

    "You could check his pulse through his ankles to see if he is alive."
     
    Last edited: Oct 30, 2013
  5. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The Overturned Carriage


    So one by one they emerged from behind the shrubbery, passing through the thick undergrowth and onto the main road where the female elf was waiting. She smiled and bowed to each of them, and pointed down at the boots underneath the carriage. “Please… save him. If you can lift it up maybe we can pull him out?” Together the heroes crowded around the muddy black boots.

    “He looks in a bad way. Are we sure it’s even worth lifting?” Serana asked. She had a point. The carriage had looked big from behind the foliage, but up close it was gigantic, as tall and as wide as the cottages now burning in Breker Pass and no doubt as heavy. The dark oak fixtures was splintered and deeply cracked, and a number of the wheel spokes were snapped and missing, all adding to the difficulty of the lift.

    All of the group helped save for Annette and James, the latter supporting her injuries. Clutching their fingers under the broken wood the heroes struggled to lift the carriage, barely raising it a foot off the ground. With the aid of James, Annette bent down and gave the leather boots a feel, before giving the body a tug. She gasped in horror at her own strength, pulling the man’s leg off from underneath the carriage and falling flat on her bum in the frozen ground. She instantly dropped the limb, pushing it away in her panic and staring at it with wide eyes, which slowly softened at the realisation that it was not a limb, but in fact a wooden log. Her expression was blank for a few moments and she gingerly handed the boot to James for closer inspection, whilst grabbing the other for herself. It was exactly the same, another leather boot on a wooden log and she stared at the darkness underneath the carriage to find no man inside.

    “Uh oh…” She said, gazing over to where the female elf had been standing. The pointy eared woman was nowhere to be found and the rest of the group dropped the carriage, slowly cottoning on to what had happened. But it was all too late, the wilderness around them standing up to reveal camouflaged figures in black leather armour, with arrows etched on short bows aimed right for their heads. The twang of a single bow string rippled through the air, the arrow flying upwards into a sack directly above the heroes, and it burst at the seams releasing a cloud of silver dust, sprinkling downwards on top of them. With no time to react, the dust filtered through the group and Malefius began to feel drowsy, his vision blurring as the leather clad rangers closed in. He fell to his knees, fighting back the urge to close his eyes, gazing at the rest of the heroes as they slumped to the floor. It was only a matter of time before he too collapsed, smacking his face into the hard frozen ground.

    * * *​

    When Malefius came to, it had not been what he was expecting. Underneath the blindfold morning birds chirped happily to each other while the wind gently rustled the nearby trees, and the aroma of leek soup and slow roasted salmon pleasantly tingled under the old man’s nose. The shine of sun warmed through the cloth and he could see faint shadows moving about him.

    “Ahem.” A voice called out.

    All blindfolds were removed at the same time and the heroes found themselves in a camp, resting in a small valley surrounded by large green hills. Huge oak trees with leaves of orange and green sat atop the mounds, swaying lightly as a breeze rolled across the vale. Only the sun could find them here, a place of tranquillity complete with its own lake and Malefius spotted several elves crowding around the waters, fishing for more salmon.

    “I am Aerys.” The voice said once more and the old man squinted to see one of the black leather rangers standing in front, his hood down to reveal his short golden hair. “This valley is hidden, the hills are steep and our eyes are always watching. You cannot escape.” With that Aerys meekly raised his hand and the other rangers obeyed, stepping behind each hero and cutting away the rope ties around their wrists.

    After that was done Aerys simply left; crossing the camp, walking past the cooking fire and entering the large rectangular tent at the top of the slopping plain. For a while nothing was said and nothing was done, the camp occupants merely left the heroes to their own devices. Even when Key helped himself to the slow roasted salmon on the cooking fire there was no uproar, and the rest gradually joined the knight. They huddled together eating in silence, unsure of what the elves were planning, yet it was strange, they were almost like stray dogs, treated by their captors with a mild neglect. Those dressed in black leather would simply stare from under their hoods, but many of the plain clothed elves would smile at the group, before quickly turning away to their errands.

    “Það er svolítið skrítið að þú ert með þeim, Sorrow (It’s a little strange that you’re with them, Sorrow)." The words were spoken in Elvish; none of them able to understand it. Except for one. Isen turned to see the elf with the cut on her cheek standing in front of the sun, staring down at him with disapproval. She had traded her dirty apron for the same black leather attire the rest of the rangers were wearing, and tutted a little, speaking once more in the hallowed Elven language, “Bara eins Sorrow (Just like a Sorrow).”

    Circling the group she composed herself, beaming a smile at them before placing herself down on the cool green grass. “Welcome to Glen’Drell, known in the common tongue as Safe Haven. My name is Helias… and truly, we are all very sorry about this. You see, while you may just be simple travellers, what you stand for as humans is what we are trying to fight against.” She shot a quick glare at Isen.

    “I don’t understand, we as Humans gave you refuge in Darn.” Malefius interjected. “A place you could rebuild.”

    “That was the dream… eons ago. Sadly, things have changed. No more so than in the last few months. With the youngest brother taking the throne at Darn we Sun Elves jumped for joy, for Sir Ramsey Hargreaves was possibly the nicest and fairest Lord to have ever lived. But his caring nature was quickly exploited by the council – they were sworn to watch over him, yet they bullied him and created a puppet.” Helias’ watery eyes faltered. “And now… they have turned the elves into slave labour. All of us in Glen’Drell bear the marks of our slavery and we alone defied the regime, digging a secret passageway out of Darn to here.”

    Helias raised her hands at the beauty that was Safe Haven. From the sad tale she was citing, the grass was truly greener where they had ended up. “And it is here, tonight, that we shall stage our rebellion, flooding through the secret passage, arming our brothers and sisters with steel and claiming Darn as our rightful home!” She was standing now, her bow raised up to the sky with furious might. “Sorry…” She said lowering her weapon, “But that is what will happen, and we need you as hostages in our crucial struggle.”

    “But I don’t understand.” Malefius said. “Darn is not your rightful home. The City was the creation of The Three Rings – three human built establishments that rose to prominence. You are taking someone else’s ho–“

    “How very human of you, old man.” Aerys had returned, staring daggers at the wizard. “They treat Darn like a festering gluttony pit where fat, money driven filth breeds fat, money driven filth. We are simply liberating it from the greedy council.”

    “And when you have liberated it, you will obviously hand the power back to Lord Ramsey Hargreaves, no?” Malefius said, still enjoying his slow roasted salmon.

    “What a wonderfully wise old man you are. I am still undecided on that little detail.” The elf spat back.

    “Regardless, we really don’t have time for this Aerys.” Malefius now stood with a stern look on his face, putting down his food for the first time. “You can play rebellion all you like on a different day, but we…” He indicated to all the group, “…are trying to save the realm. Does no one know that Highguard has fallen?”

    “Wh-What?” Helias gasped.

    Impossible!?” Aerys stammered. “Hmmph. I flatly refuse to believe that the great stalwart of the North has collapsed. Sit down old man and stop spitting your tricks and lies. We will not fall for them.” The short haired elf glared at each of them, and stormed back to his tent leaving the heroes and a shocked Helias on their own.

    “Highguard has not fallen… has it?” She asked.
     
    Last edited: Nov 1, 2013
  6. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Serana silently observed the proceedings before standing. Even though the ropes were cut, she did not want to be the first to make a move. After the others had begun to mill around, she finally stood and stretched. There was food present and, even though her stomach protected, she didn't dart for the spread right away. Serana remained very wary of everything.

    It was odd, really. Maybe even a little ironic. She'd grown up in Darn. She slaved alongside the elves. She was one of them, socially as well as biologically. But now she was their slave, captured for trying to help them. Life was a joke sometimes and the punchline was a mean right hook.

    But they can't keep a good woman down,
    Serana thought as she straightened her hair and tried to look decent. Something would have to be done about these clothes. She was wet, cold, and filthy --they all were. Surely, these elves wouldn't want their hostages catching pneumonia.

    William tugged at her sleeve and she turned to face him. "Miss Silvia, what should we do?" he asked, at a whisper. He was munching a chunk of hard bread. "They're... scary."

    "The way you're stuffing your face, you don't look scared, darling," she said in an even tone and then smiled. "For starters, stop whispering. We've no secrets here. Yet." Her gaze shifted to the she-elf, Helias, who was at the other end of the room, near Isen and Malefius. "Sorrow... I despise that word."

    She had only caught snippets of what had been said, because her Elvish was a little rusty. Serana had picked up some of the language in her childhood but, even then, the elves regarded her as human, despite her silver hair and the very slight points of her ears. She was never one of them, even when she scrubbed the floors and shoveled muck and weeded the fields beside them.

    "Are you going to tell them?" Willaim asked.

    Serana looked to him, slightly startled. She'd zoned out for a moment. "Why? So they can ridicule me, call me a half-breed?" She watched Helias for a moment longer and felt a seething hatred building, but Serana quickly turned away and took some roast salmon from the table. "If he's a 'sorrow,' what does that make me? Absolute misery? I'm human now. To them I always was."

    She found a spot away from them and ate alone, leaving a very puzzled William standing by the food.
     
  7. Mottahko

    Mottahko Active Member

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    Isen had sat through the ordeal stoically. It was no worse than any other part of his life. Though when the elf called him a Sorrow his perpetual frown deepened more. He felt naked without his bow or knives. They had been taken from him and now he was defenseless. Truly he was a Sorrow. As Malefius spoke Isen sighed. He knew of such radicals before. They're plans were likely to end in failure. After so long living under the shadow of the humans many elves wouldn't want to take up arms. Sure some would, but most knew what happened when even the slightest resistance was given. To launch an outright rebellion would end disastrously. These radicals didn't care. Flames such as them would try no matter what and Malefius was wasting his breath.

    After Aerys left Isen looked at the stunned Helias. She seemed unsure how to handle the news. Isen turned his face to her, "Reyndar Highguard hefur lækkað. Vopn þín væri að setja til betri nota berjast rauða auga her sem gengr fyrir (Indeed Highguard has fallen. Your arms would be put to better use fighting the red-eye army that marches for the Three Rings)."

    Turning to face her fully he let shift the cowl over his head revealing his dark hair and scarred face, "Þér kallið mig Sorrow. Ég er Eclipse, að eilífu mun ég vera Sorrow. Það skiptir máli ekki vera það álfarnir eða mönnum sem regla. (You call me a Sorrow. I am an Eclipse, forever will I be Sorrow. It matters not be it the elves or humans that rule.)," He declared bitterly.

    Shifting his cowl once more to leave his face hiding in the shadows he more quietly added, "Þú hefur hátt eða deyja að reyna. En það mun ekki vera Three Rings vinstri fyrir neinn ef Bane er ekki hætt áður en hann snýr öllu ríki ryk. Finna gísla þínar annars staðar björt einn.(You have your way or die trying. But there won't be a Three Rings left for anyone if Bane isn't stopped before he turns the entire realm dust. Find your hostages else where Bright One.)."

    Speaking elvish again left Isen feeling drained. He rarely spoke this much but being caught up in the midst of a rebellion at this dire hour was wearing dangerously thin on his nerves. He returned Helias' earlier glare twofold with the conviction of his words. She knew it was true. To be an Eclipse among the Sun Elves was much like being a Sun Elf among the humans.

    Turning to Malefius, Isen remarked, "You waste your breath friend," emphasizing friend for Helias' benefit. "They'd rather watch the world burn than try to stop the fire."
     
    Last edited: Nov 1, 2013
  8. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    “Watch the world burn?” She said. “Far from it Sorrow. We are trying to save it from itself. But it’s hardly surprising that a Sorrow like you would side against his own brothers and sisters.” Helias stood up from the cool green grass and motioned to leave, but she turned back with a short smile. “Save your red-eyed armies and fallen Highguard for the children’s ghost stories – your scaremongering won’t work on us. Our plan is already in motion and as you sit here wasting your breath, ten thousand elven slaves are arming themselves to the teeth in the fields, sweathouses, tunnels and lakes.” She turned away in her tight leathers and walked back towards Aerys’ dark green tent, but not without a parting word, “Darn won’t know what hit them.”
     
  9. Crumpets

    Crumpets Senior Member

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    "You're right." Key shouted after the elf. "Highguard has not fallen, and never will so long as it lives on... in our hearts." Key pressed his fist against his chest for a somber moment and gazed deeply into the elf's eyes. "But the castle and town? Totally burnt to the ground. Yep. Completely gone."
     
  10. Love to Write

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

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    Nikko rolled his eyes at Key. The man was so callous. "I'm afraid Highguard has fallen to red-eyed knights enchanted by some sort of evil. " He said with complete sincerity. The sorrow in his eyes was deep, as he were just barely keeping back a flood of tears. "What other reason would wizards, knights, and serving children be traveling together in the middle of the night? If you don't believe us...send a scout. He'll confirm our story."
     
  11. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    Annette nodded in silent agreement; too tired to think even after all of the food they had been given. "Please, we would not make up such a thing if it weren't true. I would not be surprised if they come here and . . ." she started shuddering uncontrollably and curled up in a ball, about to be sick. Though they may not believe it, the amount of blood staining her dress did not lie, even if they believed that her words a were false.

    "Why would we . . . go into the mountain and risk being killed by trolls . . . unless there was something far worse behind us . . .?"
     
  12. Love to Write

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

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    They were getting no where with the Elves, so Nikko stood and began to wander. A few minutes later he heard the sound of rushing water. He pushed through the foliage to find a clean river. Just what he needed. He looked around to make sure no-one was nearby then pulled the chainmail off, wincing as the cuts on his chest pulled painfully. The green shirt underneath clung to his skin where the blood had dried. This is not going to be fun.
    Again Nikko looked around. So far so good. He'd have to clean the cuts fast.

    The shirt came off. If anyone had been around they would have seen what the knight had been hiding most her life. White bandages were wrapped tightly around Nikka's chest. She knelt by the water, wet a rag and began to wipe clean the three long cuts just above the bandages. Thankfully the cuts weren't any lower.
    ---
    "I don't see why we have to do this," William said as he scooped a handful of mud and tossed it aside. "They seem like nice elves. I mean, sure, we're hostages… but I don't think they mean any harm."

    "Just shut up and dig," Serana hissed as she toiled beside him in the river clay, where they'd already dug about a half dozen neat holes. "And keep your voice down."

    The damned elves wouldn't lend her any jars or vials, so this was the best she could do to brew a potion… unless she wanted to attempt to turn the entire river into aetherial solvent. Serana thought very highly of herself, but even she knew her limits. This wouldn't work unless she could isolate the water in bowls, jars, vials, puddles, or, in this case, holes dug in the clay.

    The sound of rustling made her suddenly freeze. Someone else was at the river. She and William were safely concealed by a wall of underbrush. Nevertheless, Serana pulled the boy down and clamped a hand over his mouth.

    It was Nikko, the knight, and he seemed to have come to clean his wounds. Serana watched closely as the young man unbuckled his chainmail. His chest was bound in bandages, as if he'd been previously wounded… but something didn't look right. Serana's eyes widened.

    She shoved William away. "Go check on the others," she said in a harsh whisper. He muttered something under his breath and moved as if to go speak to Nikko, but Serana quickly grabbed him by the wrist. "Go see some other other person," she said as she turned him in the opposite direction.How could the boy be so dense? Surely, even an idiot could see.

    Once he was gone, she finally emerged from the bushes and casually strolled down the riverbank toward the young lady-knight. "Oh, pardon me," Serana said, as if surprised to see him there. Her eyes studied him for a long moment, sizing him up. "How rude of me," she said as she turned away. "A lady should give a young knight his privacy. Forgive me, sir."

    She began to walk away, but slowly, waiting to see if Nikko would ask her to stay… or would the young knight assume she was too stupid to see the obvious.

    "Wait!" Nikka exclaimed. Her cheeks were flushed as she held a shirt to her chest in a vain attempt to conceal herself. "Please don't tell the others."

    "Tell them what?" Serana asked as she stopped and turned to face the girl. "That you are a man who values his hygiene?" She smiled. "Or did you mean... those." Her gaze fell to Nikko's chest and the smile grew lightly more sinister. "Little thing like that is hardly worth talking about, dear."

    Serana laughed before quickly adding, "I'm kidding, of course. You're lovely. I see a little of your mother in you, if I'm not mistaken. Clutch that shirt all you like, it's your face that has betrayed you, not your breasts."

    "My mother!?" Nikka threw on her shirt and jumped to her feet. "She died when I was child. How did you know her?"

    "I... ummm..." Rare was the moment Serana was caught without an explanation or a wise crack. "I didn't," she said at last, and that was (mostly) the truth. "But I've seen pictures, and the resemblance is uncanny."

    Nikka's look of excitement and was replaced with severe disappointment followed by the look of one trying to remain indifferent.
    "Of course." She finally replied. "It was silly of me to think a common women would know a Countess." She donned her chainmail, once again, her face becoming more stern and male-like as she assumed her nom de guerre, Nikko.

    "I thank you for your silence in regards to my secret." He said as he bowed respectfully and then turned to leave.

    "Of course. You know how much we commoners love a good secret," Serana said from behind Nikko's back. And then she muttered to herself, "you're just as stuck up as your mother."
     
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  13. Tara

    Tara Senior Member

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    Raven listened to the others while they tried to convince the elves to let them leave. Even from where she was sitting Raven knew it was no use; the elves didn't want to listen to reason, they only wanted freedom and revenge and this was something Raven understood better than she liked to admit.

    While the girl went back to considering the possibilities they had left -trying to make a run for it, trying to cooperate with the elves, or watching the realm burn- something had caught Shadow's attention.

    The cat freed himself from Raven's grip, leaving a bloody scratch running across the girl's neck.

    "By those red eyed demons, what's wrong with that animal?" Raven wondered out loud.

    She hardly had to wait for the answer to that question as Shadow walked away from her, head and tail up in the air like he was the most important of them all, and toward the man who had joined them that morning. Without missing a beat the animal started purring and rubbing itself against Isen's legs.

    Raven hurried toward the elf and the cat to pick the animal up, but as soon as she lifted Shadow off the ground the cat jumped away and continued what he had been doing, there was only one difference this time; he looked Raven straight in the eyes.

    You smart bastard, Raven thought. I bet he knows more about the elves than all of us together.

    "I... I'm sorry about that," she said, looking at Shadow who was still pressing himself against Isen's legs. "I don't know what has gotten into him... It must be stress, he has been through a lot last night..."

    Isen had been off sitting quietly by himself when he had felt something press against his leg. Looming down he saw a cat. Giving it a gentle rub he said, "Jæja halló litla"(well hello there little one).

    Hearing some one approach he looked up and saw the young girl, Raven he thought. He was pretty sure she was the cat's human.

    Replying with a soft smile not normally seen on his face, making his scar look smoother normal, "You need to apologize for the cat. It's much the same as if I apologized for it being cold out." He scratched the cat's ear again idly.

    "I guess this makes two friends I have here now, " he said looking at the cat. Looking back at Raven, "I'm Isen Holt. Sorrow of the Sun Elves," he added the last bit with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

    Raven had never heard of a Sorrow, but the way the elf said it told all she had to know.

    "I'm Raven and I wish I could tell you what I am exactly," the girl pushed some of her hair back behind her. This revealed the scar tissue at the top of her ear, like someone had cut it off in a hurry once, long ago. After a moment of silence Raven asked: "They are not going to let us go, are they?"

    Isen raised an eyebrow at the scars on her ears, "I'm sorry you had to do that. I know what it's like hiding your heritage though," he told her softly. "As to your other question. No, most likely not. At best we might convince them that we could be useful."

    Isen wondered if perhaps he could convince them to let him lead them to the Three Rings. If he could blunder them in and alert the defenders, when Bane's army did show up there'd be two armies against him. If the elves could turn and fight them too.

    "How will we convince them?" Raven asked, but then she realized something else. "Most of them will probably die..."

    "More likely than not yes. They will all die. But they'd rather die than keep living the way they have been. I found an escape, but most elves can't," Isen replied somberly.

    Looking down for a moment he replied, "I could offer to guide them to the Three Rings. But I doubt they'd trust a Sorrow in the company of humans. Maybe... they'd likely trust you more than me. I am án náinna vina. (Without close friends). You at least are with those whom you belong and add such are more trustworthy."

    Looking at the girl he added, "If they would accept your offer I can guide you to guide them".

    Raven stared at the ground in front of her. They will die if I try it, and it will be my fault... but everyone else will die if we don't try anything."I'll try to convince them, but only because we have to do something."

    Isen nodded, his pale blue eyes unreadable. Raven was unhappy with the idea but this was the best option.

    "I'll follow you but won't speak. I'll know what they say if the discuss the matter amongst themselves, " Isen told her.
     
  14. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Mordin squinted his eyes to protect against the sunlight. Slowly, he dared to let his eyes venture across the landscape before him. It looked familiar. He stumbled to his feet, the plane of the world spinned slowly underneath him as he tried to keep his balance. Whatever the rangers had used on them, it was still wearing off. A lump rose in his throat, and he clutched his stomach to keep his last meal inside. Perhaps he stood there for three minutes, maybe four, or ten. Eventually, Thomas returned to him with some fresh salmon, but Mordin rejected the food.

    "I am not hungry," he rasped.

    "Are you sure?" Thomas looked worried.

    Mordin nodded.

    "You look pale," Thomas noted, "but I have something that will make you feel better." Mordin followed like a lamb as Thomas guided him to a shrubbery, far away from the others and well out of their sight. "Here," said Thomas as he pulled out a small botlle from his pocket.

    "What is it?"

    "It'll warm the cockles," Thomas reassured him. Suspicious of the strange, dark bottle and the strong wafts that came from it, Mordin uncorcked it. He wrinkled his nose.

    "Just a sip, it will make you feel better. I promise."

    Mordin pinched his nose with his fingers and poured some of the liquid down. The lump in his throat broke loose and before he knew it, he was on his knees and throwing up. Thomas shielded him from sight and patted him on his back, "better out than in."

    The vicious, bitter taste lingered on his throat, but his relief trumped it. He washed his mouth with some water and when he had fully recovered, they headed back. "I know this place," Mordin whispered as he swallowed down the last bit of salmon. Thomas raised an eyebrow, "you do?"

    "The lake," Mordin muttered, "I've been here before..."

    --

    The slapping sound stopped, but Mordin didn't dare to look. He could hear feet shuffle in the sand, the hairs on his skin stood on end, and still he didn't dare. Someone moved towards him. He squeezed his eyes tighter.

    "You can look now little brother," Peter said. His voice was so calm, so familiar, but Mordin knew exactly what horror he would see if he did look. Peter grabbed his wrist, forced his hand open and planted a wet stone in it. Mordin's insides froze at the touch. He could smell the blood, he carried the weapon now, the weapon that had killed her.

    The stone was as heavy as the guilt that had been building inside of him, weighing him down. Perhaps he had done too little to prevent her death, perhaps he could've beaten Peter.

    When he opened his watery eyes, Peter's face was merely a blur. Menacing as his brother looked, he couldn't look anywhere else, in fear of seeing her maimed body, or what was left of it.

    "You stay here, or I'll drown you," Peter said. In a sudden move, he grabbed Mordin's throat, toppled him over and squeezed. "Is that understood?"

    He kicked his feet, clawed at Peter's hand, but his brother had him locked down and gasping for air.

    "Is that understood?"

    Mordin nodded vigorously. He settled into a coughing fit as he was released. "Good," Peter said, then dissappeared.

    Mordin had no recollection of how much time passed before they found him. His father, Peter, some of the tribesmen. All were horrified by what Mordin had done. Even though he could barely see her through his tears, he knew his Mother was devastated.

    A council was held. Stella's parents were informed and the villagers demanded an execution, but upon seeing Mordin, some were shaken into disbelief.

    "Are you sure that's him?"

    Mordin was surrounded by the elders of his tribe, and the nearby village. Most faces showed nothing but contempt, some displayed disbelief and others still; pity. The grey-haired, short woman with bagged eyes seemed to empathize most with him, in spite of the accusation of murder.

    "He was the only there, with the weapon in his hand. I can't tell you why, but I can tell you that he killed her."

    The words from his father were as stern as always, but much more bitter, as if he'd completely forgotten he was looking at his own son.

    "Don't be fooled by my brother's looks, he has always been a little devil," Peter chipped in. All faces turned towards Mordin's handsome brother.

    "He's lying!" Mordin cried, "he killed her, I saw it!"

    Peter looked offended, but said nothing to counter the accusation. He let the lethal silence that followed do that for him.

    "He's so young," the old woman muttered, shaking her head.

    "He's guilty, look at him!" one elder spat. "He was there, the stone was there, Stella's dead body was there. What more evidence do you need?"

    Mordin's father raised his hand and silenced them all. He stepped up towards Mordin and looked down on him. Mordin couldn't stand the accusing look, he couldn't stand the vicious contempt in his father's eyes. His gaze swept downwards.

    "You're not my son. I disown you. I can not deal with this matter objectively, an independent council must be formed. Until then, he should be locked up, were he can't harm anyone else."

    "No...no, no. Father, no, please!" Mordin begged, "I didn't do it, I swear!" he fell to his knees and clasped his hands in prayer. Hot drops rained down from his eyes.

    "Lock him up."
     
    Last edited: Nov 20, 2013
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  15. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    James helped Annette over to the edge of the lake. She sat down and James started to make a small pile of pebbles about an arms length from the shore. As he helped her, Annette gingerly put her ankle on the cairn and sighed in relief as the water cooled and soothed her bandaged leg. James sat down beside her, and they watched as Jinx cautiously approached the water's edge. Shying away from each tiny wavelet, the kitten slowly bent her head down to the water and started drinking enthusiastically. Suddenly, a larger ripple wetted her paws and the kitten jumped back as though stung. She started licking her paws dry and looking reproachfully at James and Annette, holding them responsible for the wave. After that, Jinx distrusted the water even more, but eventually decided that a drink was worth wet paws. She bent over the lake again and continued lapping the water.

    "Do you think they'll believe us?" Asked James after a short while.

    "I don't know. Why would they even think that holding us hostage would do any good?" Annette sighed. "I'm certainly not worth anything, and sad to say, humans aren't very protective of one another... if we had, there would never have been any wars, or murder, or..." she trailed off and looked down at her lap, eyes glazed and gone half-lidded.

    "I've read one too many scrolls..."

    James covered Annette's hand with his, as silent tears rolled down her face. "It'll be all right," he said, as much for his own benefit as Annette's. "My dad always said to put your best foot forward and things would turn out all right."

    "And," he added after a pause, "you... you're not worth nothing... to me."

    Annette' face flamed, and for a moment she couldn't get her tongue to form words, so she just stared at him in a stupor.

    Jinx finally broke the spell by jumping onto Annette's shoulder and curling up for a nap, the kitten's rumbling purr distracting her. "Th- thanks..." She mumbled, averting her eyes.
     
  16. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Mordin, Thomas, and a peculiar elf.

    "Are you alright?"

    Thomas shook Mordin. The boy's gaze was glassy and his skin paler than the snow atop Highguard's roofs. Slowly, like a leaf drifting on a lone, autumn wind, the soul and spirit returned to his frame. But his cheeks were hollow still, and he turned away from Thomas to hide his quivering lips.

    "I just..." He let out a shivery sigh. "I just need a moment alone."

    Thomas retreated his hand that had hovered over the boy's shoulder. Perhaps it was better to leave him to his thoughts. But as human nature goes, those who wish to be left alone desire the opposite more dearly, and Mordin was most certainly human.

    "I killed her," he said, his voice was weary and his head drooped.

    He sat down cross-legged, and buried his hands in his hair. Part of him wished that Thomas would go away, yet he knew that wouldn't happen. Thomas never left him alone. He twitched as he swallowed down the irony of his life. He had been blamed and sentenced for a murder he didn't commit, yet no one had spoken a word or lifted a finger when he had killed that noblewoman, in the dungeons of Highguard.

    Thomas carefully sat down next to his apprentice. Save for a ranger, half-hidden behind a tree, a few dozen feet away, they were alone. Together.

    "You can't change the past, Mordin. If you hadn't killed her, we wouldn't be here."

    Mordin just looked miserable when Thomas reminded him of where he was. Mindlessly, he drew plucked a few blades of grass and crumpled them in his hand.

    "I don't even know why I did it," he said mournfully. "S'pose it doesn't matter, we'll be dead soon anyway."

    "You mustn't say that."

    Thomas finally got to see the two, ocean-blue, watery puddles that were the boy's eyes. True misery, seen only before in the faces of the enslaved or the dying, pierced his soul. Then, a shadow loomed over them.

    Master and apprentice looked up at the same time. It was one of the rangers.

    "No talking secrets. You both prisoner, not Kings." The fair elf, with his cat like eyes, angular cheeks, and near-golden hair gave the two stinking humans a stern look. Thomas rose to his feet and motioned for Mordin to do the same. The elf towered over them, yet something in his expression softened when his gaze fell on the blue-eyed boy.

    "Drûid?"

    Before he could respond, the elf had lowered himself to his height and gazed intently at Mordin's chest. The boy sought approval in his mentor's eyes and found it. He pulled his shirt over one arm, revealing the black-ink insignia completely to the curious elf, who let out a bubble of cheerful laughter at the sight and motioned for Mordin to put his tunic back on.

    "You King after all," the elf said. Thomas was sure he saw the elf incline his head ever so slightly, but when he blinked, the golden-haired ranger looked as stoic as before and turned away from them.

    "What was that all about?" Mordin ventured to ask as they headed back to the main group. Thomas raised his shoulders, "I don't know, but we may not be dead men yet."
     
    Last edited: Dec 16, 2013
  17. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    Freedom or Tyranny


    The goat leather door flap of the grand tent folded open to reveal Helias, her curvy silhouette blotting out the sun. She gazed in to see a darkened war room lit by hot coaled braziers and a table bedded with maps of Darn. It was there she spotted the lone figure of Aerys, quietly smouldering over the faded pages with both fists planted tightly on the table. His face was twisted into a grimace, staring darkly at the maps, only to be disturbed by the sunlight from outside. His eyes narrowed and he snarled at her, “What?”

    She quickly scampered in and closed the tent flap behind her, but she would not approach him, opting to stay hidden in the shadows. The sun disappeared in a flash leaving the tent as dark as the crypts of Highguard and so cold that the brazier fires could not lick away the icy air.

    “Well?” He snapped.

    She twiddled her fingers behind her back and circled the table a good distance away. “I-I… It’s nothing.”

    He rolled his eyes and returned to the maps, using bits of wood as markers for his rebel armies. For a while nothing was said, with him moving pieces and taking notes and her just staring at him subtlety. Not subtle enough however and Aerys caught her glance one too many times. He raised a hand and slammed a fist, cracking the table so loudly that she jumped in her skin. “Damn it Helias, what is it!?” The wooden markers toppled over surrendering to his anger and he slammed his other hand for good measure, forcing the pieces to jump again. “I have no time for games – I am leading a rebellion. Now out with it!”

    Her big brother. No longer the boy that had shielded her from the whips and protected her in their slavery – instead he was a man, raising an army and marching on Darn. His sweet nature and jolly charm were gone, banished under the banner of human tyranny and oppression. All that stood before her now was a callous renegade ready to stop at nothing to achieve his goal, but what that goal was, she wasn’t sure. She only hoped that it was still to save their people, yet with every passing day she believed it less and less.

    Under the icy burn of the braziers she trembled forward, unable to meet his cold eyes. She stared down at the silver grass on the ground, hidden in the darkness like daggers in the night.

    “What if they are right?” She croaked, the words scratching at her throat.

    “They are not.” He said, quickly turning away and dismissing her completely.

    “But what if they are?”

    “Stop being such a child.” He walked towards the back of the tent, where a thin black veil shrouded his bed and water basin. Slowly he washed his face and let out a weary sigh. “Do you not see, they are trying to manipulate you?”

    “But they have the Sorrow with them.” She said quietly. The tent fell silent and Aerys swiftly turned to face her, however she diverted her eyes.

    “The Sorrow…?” He barked. “The Sorrow!? He could be a liar, a thief or a traitor for all I care. Who gives a damn – it’s who he’s with that matters. All his presence does is add weight to our argument.”

    “Does it?” She looked at him now, staring through his ice blue eyes with an expression of fear and concern. “They trust him… a-and travel with him. What plight would drive either group to do that?”

    “Shut up.” He snarled at her and marched past the war table to an inch of her face. “This is the eve of our salvation and for some reason you feel the need to poison me with worded venom, to betray me before I take the first step.”

    “The first step for what though brother?” Her tone was mocking and snide, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “The first step towards freedom, or the first step to your tyranny?”

    He grabbed her by the throat. Hard. Squeezing on the airway and watching as her eyes widened. “You putrid wench! How dare you talk to me like that!?” He roared. She gazed at him in struggled horror as his blonde hair became a wild mess and the shadows darkened around his face, with every wrinkle a blackened crease. “I will not have you, or your human friends stop me from crushing my enemy. I will rain arrows of fire on their homes and burn every last soul to dust until I know that Darn is mine.”

    Aerys slapped her with the other hand and threw her to the ground. Wreathing in pain Helias flinched seeing her brother glowering over her, his body stiff and his fists clenched white. “And when Darn is mine I will march on the rest of the human scum – on Boradith and Terog – and I will burn them to the ground. Then and only then, will the Sun Elves ever truly have freedom. And you...” He pointed one of his bony fingers at her, showing off the hundreds of cuts on his hand, sprawling all over his skin like spider webs made of blood. “You will not defy me. Understand?”

    She said nothing. He threw a fist at her and she flinched and squealed in fear. But just as the punch was about to connect, Aerys pulled away. He bore down on her and whispered in her ear, “You will not defy me.” The tears streaming from her face and the slow nod she gave were all the answer he needed. With that he returned to his war table, replacing the overturned wood markers to their original positions. “Our attack begins at midnight. Now get out.”


    * * *​


    The afternoon light was dwindling and the cold northern winds were sweeping down from the Highland mountains, bringing a biting chill to the refugee camp. Most of the Sun Elves had returned to their tents to warm themselves before the evening meal, leaving the heroes on their own by the camp’s dwindling cooking fire. They all huddled together to stop their blood from freezing, holding onto the last embers of sunset as it twinkled through the large oak trees.

    Malefius was helping himself to his third portion of slow roasted salmon, which was now bone dry and ice cold, yet he was too famished to complain. Serana and William had moved closer to the group but still kept their distance, fringing on the edge next to Key. He was quietly tormenting Nikko, who seemed rather disheartened and low but Malefius was not sure why. On the other side, Isen was still in discussion with Raven like they had been all afternoon, while her cat Shadow had played with Jinx, Annette and James. Marcus and Tyson were huddled around the fire trying desperately to warm themselves up but failing miserably. And finally Thomas and Mordin whispered together in secret, much to Malefius’ chagrin. He did not trust Thomas. The old wizard had rarely seen him in Highguard; even his reputation was shrouded in mystery.

    Suddenly one of the black leather rangers approached, almost hidden from view as dusk drew in. They stalked over to the weak camp fire and everybody watched as the figure made its way to Malefius and whispered in his ear. After a few hushed words the old man stood tall and turned to the rest of them.

    “Be quiet. Get up slowly.” He whispered. They all obliged and edged to their feet. The black clad ranger simply walked towards the oak trees to the south and Malefius followed, beckoning the rest of them with his wrinkled hand. Marching into the trees the curvaceous ranger stopped. Another ranger leapt down from the branches.

    “Og hvar finnst þér að þú ert að fara? (And where do you think you are going?)” The tree guard asked.

    Helias replied in a soft voice, “Aerys vill mér að taka fanga til að göngunum, tilbúna í kvöld. (Aerys wants me to take the prisoners to the tunnels, ready for tonight.)”

    “Svo fljótt? Það er ekki einu sinni nótt enn (So soon? It’s not even night yet.)” The guard said.

    “Hann vill tryggja að allt sé tilbúinn, þá getur ekki verið einhver mistök í kvöld (He wants to make sure everything is prepared, there cannot be any mistakes tonight.)” Helias said.

    “Fínn, getur þú farið í gegnum. En ég er að fara að athuga með Aerys að ganga úr skugga um að allt sé að fara að skipuleggja (Fine, you can go through. But I am going to check with Aerys to make sure everything is going to plan.)” The guard said, walking off towards Aerys’ tent.

    Before he had even left the heroes quickly ventured past the tree, following Helias in her tight black leathers, over the large hill and down into a tiny grove that resembled the Twitching Woods, with its snow grasped branches and leaves. It was as if someone had flipped a switch; they now found themselves in the wintery depths of the forest with a large black hole ahead. It was here she turned to face them.

    “We don’t have a lot of time so listen and keep quiet.” Helias whispered. “If what you say about Highguard is true, then we surely have to warn Darn about it. At least they can be ready to defend against the army you spoke of, that way any Sun Elves in slavery will not die tonight. However, if you dare mention our plans of rebellion, I will personally slit your throat – that goes for you too, Sorrow.” She scowled at Isen. “The humans will not know of our attack plans. We are going to Darn to warn them of the demon army, nothing more. If we are quick and quiet, I can lead you into the castle without too many problems. You are humans, after all. Understood?”
     
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2013
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  18. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Mordin, Thomas

    The hedges of leafless trees left only one path open for them, the dirt road that meandered through the middle. Shivering, Mordin pulled his cloak tighter and watched his unsteady breath form ash-grey clouds in the dark blue of eve. Tugging himself a bit closer to Thomas, who put a protective arm around his shoulder, he send a hard stare up at Helias, his eyes like moon discs; cold and bright.

    Questions stabbed at his mind, questions as sharp as the needles on the pine trees. Why was she leading them away? What use would their warning be if Darn was to fall to elven blades? But above all, he wondered if he’d ever find a home again. The one he left behind was lost in a billow of ash and smoke, that much he knew, but could they ever return, or begin anew?

    Thomas glanced at the grove before them. What choice did they have? If that bloated elven oaf were to find out they’d attempted an escape, they’d probably all be hanged at the very trees they were now looking at. Upon noticing Mordin’s unease, he too felt that the motives of Helias were shadowy at best and outright mysterious at the very worst.

    What kind of elaborate trap was she setting up for them? Thomas shuffled a bit closer to her and asked, in a low voice, “why would the humans trust you, elf?” He cocked his head and kept his gaze solemnly trained on her, “and why are you helping us?”

    Realizing that they were short on time, he edged towards the grove as he spoke, they could discuss these matters on the road as far as he was concerned.
     
    Last edited: Dec 15, 2013
  19. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    They followed the she-elf without complaint. Regardless of Helias's motivations, being guarded by one elf was preferable to being guarded by an entire camp of them. But, if anyone was going to escape, now was the time to do so.

    Serana knew, contrary to popular belief, Opportunity does not knock. It is up to you to open the door, snatch Opportunity as it walks by, and drag it kicking and screaming into your basement, where you use any means necessary to make it divulge its secrets.

    Opportunity had arrived and she wasn't going to let it slip away unscathed.

    But, for now, she merely followed Helias deeper into the brambles leading to Darn. William stayed by her side, though his eyes never left the she-elf's backside as she led them through the gloomy depths. Either the boy was very determined not to get lost or he'd finally discovered just how tight elven leathers were.

    "It's a ploy to distract the enemy," Serana whispered in his ear.

    "Huh?" the boy said, as if snapped out of a daze. "Did you say something?"

    Serana shook her head and said nothing more. Clever, these elves.

    They soon reached the 'door' to Darn, at which point the elf turned to address them and offered a simple ultimatum: warn Darn, but say nothing of the impending Sun Elf rebellion, or Helias starts chopping heads.

    Thomas was the first to object. “Why would the humans trust you, elf?” he asked in a low voice, “and why are you helping us?”

    "They don't have to trust her," Serana said. "We're the ones delivering the warning. If all goes according to plan, they'll never know she's here. A better question would be, why does she trust us?"

    Serana approached Helias. As she spoke, she was standing within a foot of her, well within range of the elf's blades, but felt no fear or hatred.

    "There were smarter ways to do this, Helias. You took all of us on this little trip, knowing we outnumber you. We could overpower you and escape, if we wanted, with minimal casualties…" She looked the elf squarely in the eyes. "But you know we wouldn't do that. Admit it: you trust us. Not as much as your own kin, of course, but enough to know there's a bigger threat out there. Why isn't your leader taking this as seriously as you are?"
     
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  20. Crumpets

    Crumpets Senior Member

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    Key stepped forward at this point. He wasn't Helias, but he certainly knew a few things. "The answer is obvious." He puffed up his chest in preparation, eager to showcase his knight's education. "HONOR! She has honor, thus has sought to do the right thing. Her leader lacks this honor, and so has chosen to remain in the darkness, scheming and doing other villainous acts." Key was getting bold at this point. He'd crossed the threshold of tact and planned to forge on. "I bet he fights without honor, too! He probably even uses a bow like a coward and hides behind trees or something! Bows and magic. So. Lame. Who's with me?!" And there stood Sir Key Hotay, proud knight of Highguard, wearing possibly the dumbest smile in all of Hanavar.
     
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  21. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    Annette watched the proceedings through glazed eyes, keeping her weight on her crutches as much as possible so as to avoid aggravating her legs. But though her vision was clouded, her ears were sharp on the conversation between Thomas and Serana. As a past servant, she wasn't unable to pick up on even whispered conversations. Though she never gossiped, it was just one of the skills that she had learned over time.

    And interestingly enough, it was fact just like several other things she had read from scrolls while no one was looking. It takes 500 pounds to crush a human skull -twelve to make the human knee cave in. We can bite off our fingers as if they were carrots, except our sense of pain keeps that from ever happening. Unless it's our only option...

    "I bet he fights without honor, too! He probably even uses a bow like a coward and hides behind trees or something! Bows and magic. So. Lame. Who's with me?!" Key's voice suddenly punched through her increasingly dark thoughts and Annette looked up just in time to see the look on his face.

    Then burst out laughing.
     
  22. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The Flames Die


    "But you know we wouldn't do that. Admit it: you trust us…”

    “I don’t trust you.” She snipped. “But… I trust the fear in your eyes. Aerys may not see it but I do.”

    "I bet he fights without honor, too!” The puffed up knight shouted, with the dumbest smile around. “He probably even uses a bow like a coward and hides behind trees or something! Bows and magic. So. Lame. Who's with me?!"

    Quiet you blithering fool!” Helias hissed, dashing towards him and itching a dagger under his neck. “Aerys has more honour in his little finger than you do in your entire body. He gives everything for his fellow elves.” She shot a narrow look at Isen. “The deep scars on his back are a reminder to that. In some ways he has too much honour…” Helias faltered slightly, staring off into the moonlit distance. “I-I… We must get to Darn. Now. Grab your things by the tunnel entrance.” She pointed to an abandoned mining cart with no wheels, ladened with steel swords, bows and a white Elderwood staff.

    While the others reequipped themselves Helias marched up to a strapped up Annette and her crutches. She smirked a little at the girl’s suffering, before behind down to meet her eyes. “You know, I could laugh at you and the sorry situation you are in. But that would be mean. And rude. And nasty. Almost… human.”

    On the elves hips was a belt with a number of small pouches and she dipped into one with her hand, pulling out a tiny vial filled with silver. “Liquefied stardust. I trust you have never seen such a potion? I thought not – the dirt marked skin and patch stitched clothing give you away far too easily. But still, rather than laugh at you I’m going to help you. Drink it.” Before Annette could even refuse the bottle was forced down her throat, so cold inside her that she shivered. The stun on her face was complete as Helias simply kicked the crutch away and the girl fell flat on her face and awkwardly on her leg. Strangely, there was no pain.

    “Enough.” Malefius spat at the elf. “Do not toy with he–“

    “I’m not. I’m curing her you fool.” She sneered, gazing back at him. He was just an annoying pile of old bones she thought spitefully; wrinkled, bent double and slower than a stacked up mule, with enough hair in his beard to hide a nest of Hollybirds. Sure he knew magic, but all she could think about was how much he would slow them down.

    A horn sounded. The bronze clang echoed through the evening sky, trembling across the trees as the wind carried it. There were two more short bursts, cutting the night’s peace like a knife and Helias quickly turned to the group. “We have wasted enough time already. Inside now!”

    She led the way down into the tunnel, with the white glow from Malefius’ staff illuminating there path. The crudely dug dirt walls were lined with wood frames, rotten and cracking, with most pieces looking to have come from scrap. When building the tunnels the elves had to take wood where they could: from their own slave buildings, furniture and floors, leaving the bare minimum to not cause suspicion. It had not been enough though – there were gaps in the framings and parts of the tunnel were partially collapsed, making for a treacherous path through rocks, dirt and splintered wood.

    More horns blew. Groups of them now. Each blow seemed to dampen Malefius’ light and as they trailed deeper into the tunnel the walls began to close in on them, compounding the darkness around them. Soon each of them could only see the person in front, a blurring shape moving in front of them while the walls reached out to touch them. The horns continued to blow, but were nothing more than a muffled shout in these depths.

    Suddenly Helias stopped. Malefius halted in time but Key bashed into his bony posterior, causing a chain reaction behind. Nikko clattered his armour with the other knight, while Thomas bounced off of him and this continued all the way down to Serana, who took a head butt from William to the gut. “Watch were you are going, idiot.” She hissed in his ear.

    “B-B-But…” Was all he could mutter before she swiftly clapped him on the back of the head.

    “Why have we stopped?” Malefius asked at the front. Helias merely pointed upwards, revealing a hole above them with a rickety wooden ladder. “Hmmph. I didn’t realise there would be climbing involved.”

    “Well why don’t you wait down here for the other elves, while the rest of us get into Darn?” Without giving him a moment she climbed up the ladder. The old man could only huff and grumble as he took each step with a dithery carefulness. She had already reached the top by the time he was on the second step, and there was a flat surface blocking her way up. She gave five knocks to the above. There was a loud creak, followed by a warm orange glow that slowly crept down into the tunnel, basking their cold faces in its hue. Helias disappeared into the light and Malefius could barely see above, squinting his way to the top of the ladder.

    Gazing around at the top the old man caught the glimpse of a small stove fire, nestled in the middle of a circular wooden hut. The room bathed in orange from the stove, dancing around the room in harmony with the shadows. Crude stonework bordered the hut, raised off the ground slightly and filled with bundles of cloth. Only, they weren’t cloth. As Malefius blinked and squinted he spotted dozens of dirt covered faces all staring back at him under their linen cloth beds. Elves. There had to be at least fifty of them cramped into this tiny hut; hardly big enough to fit on the Lord Jaros’ round table back in Highguard. Oh Highguard… Robert had never mentioned conditions like this. Perhaps he himself had not known. Malefius hoped that had been the case.

    Then a hand was placed in front of his face. Its thin bones and delicate wrinkles beckoned him and he grabbed it, pulling him up to ground level where he was met by an old elf. The elf wore a grey stitched robe with leaf pendants around his neck and a smug little smile on his hairless head. “Now there’s a face I thought I’d never see again.” He beamed at Malefius, grabbing him by both shoulders with weak hands. “Though, a bit more wrinkled than before. I’m up to two hundred and fifty seven currently.” He said pointing to the crow’s feet in his eyes.

    “Two hundred and forty nine, I’m afraid.” Malefius shook his head.

    “Ah, but you are catching up. It’s good to see you Malefius.”

    “And you Ailias.” He smiled back. “I didn’t realise you’d given up your worldly wandering.”

    All his life Ailias had travelled the realm of Hanavar, going from place to place but never settling down anywhere. He had done it for so long that no one really knew how old he was, but Malefius would safely bet that he was the oldest person in Darn, perhaps even the oldest person in the realm. In his youth he had found himself itching to leave the mundane, the second class squalor that elves lived in at Darn. So he picked up his things and simply left, with no more than the robes on his back and the stick in his hand. Most elves thought him mad while the humans laughed and mocked him, but he did not care and marched onward. His travels took him all over Hanavar: up to Highguard through the mountains and down to Terog through the ancient ruins of Malak, further south to the Marshes of Moar and then west into the jungle kingdom of Sin’Das Rei before arriving at the ruins of Morolith, the abandoned relic of the Sun Elf Empire. Ailias supposedly spent many years at Morolith, understanding the ways they had harnessed the sun’s power. There are even rumours that in a mysterious twelve year absence he travelled west to Iria and charted through its cryptic lands. Yet when asked about his journeys, he always just smiled and responded with, “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

    “World wandering?” He shrugged, “Oh no, it seems I am far too old for that Malefius.”

    “And how old is that then exactly?” The wizard enquired with a chastising grin.

    “The same age as my tongue but a bit older than my teeth, you cheeky devil.” Ailias slowly sat on the stone edge with a hand on his back to help him down. His face had tired a little and a low frown stared into the embers of the stove, unbroken by the rest of the heroes coming up through the hole. “I did not realise things were so bad here, my friend.” He seemed to spit the words in disgust, his birthplace not the same place he had left behind. “I intended to traverse through Darn and head to Terog, but not without a friendly stop at relatives. Yet the moment I arrived I was whipped and cracked to work, down in the mines beneath the fields. You cannot imagine the suffering that we have all incurred.” He meekly arched his back and lowered the robe to reveal gaping scars crisscrossed on his back. “But all is not what it seems Malefius. Something sinister stirs in Darn and you… all of you must uncover this darkness.”

    Bang. Bang. Bang.

    The tiny hut door shuddered as three hard knocks hit the wood. “By order of his Lordship, open the door.” A deep voice thundered from the other side of the door.

    Ailias eyes grew wide and he shot a terrified look at the others. “It’s the Captain of the Guard! Hide, hide – You must hide!” His heart sank as his stare fell on Helias, who had just covered the tunnel entrance and put a rug over. “Oh no…”

    Bang.

    The door erupted through the air, bouncing off the stove and knocking boiling water across the hut, sizzling inches away from the stone border beds. The warmth of the flames extinguished immediately, dying in the shadow of the Captain of the Guard. A burly giant of a man bent low through the door and stepped forward, his white steel armour pale and ghostly. “Well then, what do we have here Ailias?”

    “J-Just old frien–“

    The Captain’s gauntlet flashed across the old man’s face and he fell to the ground in a panicked wimper. “Shut it pointy.” The large man turned himself to face the heroes, his blackened teeth barred in a grizzly smile. “Elf lovers eh? What should we do with them boys?”

    Shouts from behind stabbed out into the night. “Stick ‘em through!”

    “Let them rot in the dungeons!”

    “Burn ‘em! Burn the damn hut down!”

    His wicked grin grew with every suggestion. “Burn the whole hut? Now that seems dark. I like it. But… I think his Lordship would be most displeased if we did not follow his orders.” His black soulless eyes descended on the heroes and he bit his teeth together with a piercing clang. “Anything to say for yourselves, Elf lovers?”
     
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  23. Macaberz

    Macaberz Pay it forward Contributor

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    Location:
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    Mordin, Thomas.

    Thomas refrained from questioning Helias further when the horns sounded. The elves were unlikely to show mercy to them now and she was their only hope.

    Sticking close to Thomas, Mordin stumbled over the occasional loose rock after his mentor. The distant horns terrified him more than the troll ever had and he glanced wide-eyed over his shoulder whenever it sounded, only to find a perpetual darkness behind him. A light, unlike that of the wizard's staff, reached his eyes. When he arrived in the shack, the meek light of the stove was like a blinding inferno to his eyes. Hollow faces stared up at him with hungry eyes, much like those of the demons from Highguard in the soft glow of the stove.

    There was little space to move and Mordin tried to follow what Malefius was saying to a very old looking man beside him, but soon gave up. He couldn't tear his eyes from the dreadful faces on the ground, their age was cloaked with dirt and festering wounds. He pressed his wrist to his nose to keep the stench that wafted about them out.

    “Well then, what do we have here Ailias?”

    Mordin would've fallen to ground in fright if there had been any space to fall. Instead, he held out his dagger like a shield, even though it would hardly make a dent in the captain's thick armour.

    Thomas, who had been listening in on Malefius's conversation, yanked his head towards the captain. He could only hope the would-be knights in their company wouldn't have the sheer daftness to pick a fight. They were trapped. They couldn't win. With no space to swing a sword and no time to cast a spell, let alone the might to take on Darn's armies, their only weapon was reason.

    “Anything to say for yourselves, Elf lovers?”

    Thomas collected his calm, stepped forward and spoke with power. “The demons that chased us here are much too dark for even your taste, Captain. That, I can assure you. Attack us and we will take half of you with us, and Darn will be overrun by the same power that razed Highguard.”
     
    Last edited: Jan 6, 2014
  24. Crumpets

    Crumpets Senior Member

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    Strapping his shield to his back, Key ascended the ladder and nearly collided with Malefius for the second time. Oblivious of the cramped elves and even of the existent conversation, Key nodded approvingly at Ailias. "Nice house you've got, old man. Do you live alone, or–" Before he could even finish, however, the door burst open and an armored hand burst into the old elf's face.
    “Anything to say for yourselves, Elf lovers?”
    Key stepped towards the ineloquent but very, very large oaf. "Sir Key Hotay of Highguard," he extended his left hand as he corrected the Captain's mistake. "Bring us to his Lordship immediately, for we have most grave matters to discuss." Though he spoke with bravado and a smile, his other hand crept subtly from his side to that of a dagger strapped behind his waist.
     
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  25. BrandonrockstheAM

    BrandonrockstheAM Active Member

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    ***The Town of Mist, 52 miles off of Darn***

    Terrence sniffed at the plate he had cooked. The steak was perfectly cooked to both Gram and his standards, and the assorted spices collected from around the town let off a delicious aroma. The salad surrounding the steak had a various selection of cut fruits and vegetables. He had cooked this completely healthy meal all from the natural area around Mist. Gram would eat anything, which often got him into trouble, so it was important to be able to keep him healthy.

    "Hey Gram, I want you to try something for me." Terrence shouted. Gram, currently carrying a few sacks of hay to the cows, dropped them immediately with a whoop of delight.

    "Terry! This smells great! Can I eat it?" Gram, his smallish figure becoming taller as he bounced on the floor in anticipation. Terrence grimaced; he still didn't know what exactly had happened to Gram. Gram probably wasn't even his real name, but neither father nor he had time enough to ask his dwarven parents before they died of a mysterious curse, as his father Richard had told him.

    "Yes, Gram. Eat your heart out." Terrence briefly smiled, anticipating Gram's next remark.

    "What? I can't eat my heart! Wait, wouldn't I die without my heart?" Gram looked horrified.

    "It's just an expression, Gram. It means, 'feel free to do that', or something along those lines."

    "Oh." Gram resumed his smile, shrugged, then tore at the meat.

    Terrence wondered for a moment. Neither he nor Gram knew the other fully. For example, Terrence was actually a sun elf, who disguised himself as an ordinary human. Nobody else knew that; only Gram had ever seen his true golden hair, for example. Gram didn't have the mind to understand it, which was why Terrence knew he could always trust Gram. Terrence didn't know why Gram's family had came to his doorstep and died, leaving their brain-damaged son to the Abernathys.

    They had grown up together, him and Gram, and they were truly best friends. Terrence understood Gram, and Gram loved Terrence in the way a dog would. Terrence shook his head fiercely. No, that was wrong to think like that. Gram was more than just a dog! He was a dwarf, a creature of this Earth, who just happened to have a few missing cursed brain cells, according to his father. Terrence glanced back at the bedroom where his father was. After 80 years of life, he was getting old, like any other human, and was on his last few days.

    "Terry? Why do you look so sad? Did something bad happen?" Gram tilted his head curiously.

    Terrence looked up, breathed in, then shook his head, smiling. "No, everything's fine."

    Gram lit back up, "Oh, great! I don't like it when you're sad or angry. You get really scary. Don't worry though, I'm tough, and I know that you're really kind and... and a good person! You're also really smart!" Gram nodded, his chin completely devoid of his beard that decided to grow fiercely every single night. Terrence always shaved it for Gram everyday, to make sure his identity was secure.

    Terrence often thought if any person here had an agenda against the dwarven. Terrence wouldn't take any chances. Gram was his brother, no matter if they share no blood nor a common species. Gram was too good, too innocent of a person to be killed by some idiot with no common sense. Gram was his #1 treasure, and he wouldn't let anybody mess with him having a happy life. He deserved every second of it for what he's been through.

    "Terry?"

    "Yeah?" Terry looked up from his musings.

    "I know you're thinking about me. You do that a lot. You get all sad, then you get angry, each time." Gram's face lifted. "I know I'm not smart, but you are way smart to make up for it! Plus, I have muscles!"

    Terrence grinned, chuckling. "Alright. I won't worry about myself either, how about that?"

    Gram grinned, "Yeah! No more worrying!"

    ***

    5 hours later, the horn blew. The horn that signified that someone was coming, and that they were armed.

    Terrence, alarmed, focused on Gram and his survival in this situation. Thankfully, he had already practiced this with Gram many times. First, he raced to his pack. He quickly snapped on his backpack, adjusted the baked leather armor he already had on, grabbed his bow and a few different potions from his father's stocks, then grabbed Gram.

    "Gram, I need you to put on the backpack I have for you over there, and quickly. Also, grab your axe. We're going on a trip." Terrence said quickly.

    Gram looked worried. "Terry, are bad guys coming?"

    Terrence nodded. "We're going to escape through the forest at the back end of the town, then cut through any knights we encounter. Remember my teamwork lessons, and the commands. Meet me at the rose bushes."

    Gram concentrated, thinking for a moment, then lifted his massive form off the chair. "Got it, Terry!" He barreled off to retrieve the pack and his axe, then Terry left, sneaking away from all the panicking people.

    Then, all hell broke loose. Terrence saw the mass of armor that were the enemy run into the town and begin slaughtering everyone. Nobody could fight, as everyone was a farmer, and Terrence could guess all the guardsmen had already been killed. He ran faster, faster than so many people, and snuck into the big array of roses near the edge of the town. It could easily hide both Terrence and himself, so it was no worry.

    Gram ran up to the bush, and Terrence jumped out. They were both silent as they took a second to watch a few knights burst into their home, where Richard Abernathy, Terrence's father, was lying on his deathbed.

    They snuck quietly into the woods, and within minutes, they could no longer hear the screams. Gram breathed a sigh of relief, and sat down quietly on a log, placing the gigantic axe of his on the ground. Terrence looked around, checking for anything, when he heard a rustle from the town. A knight was coming his way. Getting out his bow quickly, he summoned a bit of electrical power, surged it through the arrow, and shot it at the knight, hitting it in the head.

    "Gram, go number 1 him." Terrence said to Gram. Gram effortlessly picked up the axe, ran at the stunned knight, and chopped his head very roughly off, straight through the armor.

    Terrence breahted in and out a couple times, allowing his mind to finally wander. It was at this moment of calm and no need to think that he realized that his dream was ruined.

    He had dreamed for so long of living with Gram peacefully in Mist, away from the crime and squalor of Darn. Now, he was forced to go and live in the ridiculously posh place that he had earned for himself as a scholar. Gram wouldn't care in the least; he would get food and he'd have Terrence. Terrence, however, would despise the company of the noblemen and women. They treated elves like trash, and made so many others work hard in their place. Despicable creatures. Oh, and that was even ignoring the people who made up the council, who he was going to warn about this group of people attacking his town.

    "All our friends... they're dead now, right? Killed by the bad guys?" Gram asked.

    Terrence winced. Gram had a few kid friends in the town. The little girl Sarah, the little boy Joseph... they were probably all dead. "Yes."

    "Terry, will we ever get to go back home?" Gram looked sad.

    Terrence considered this for a second, wincing. "Eventually, yes, we will go home."

    Gram smiled weakly. "It'll be just us then, right? Just us, a whole town, all by ourselves? Nobody else who can be mean to me?"

    Terrence looked at Gram, in surprise. Gram had just given Terrence a small sliver of hope that his dream might still be realizable. He thought for a moment, "Well, I'll try to take us somewhere where we can live happily, that we can call home, how about that?" Terrence stood up, "But first, we have to get to Darn and warn them about the bad guys."

    "Alright." Gram said, happier than before.

    Terrence set off, with Gram following closely, a new goal in his mind. Whoever these attackers were, Terrence would make sure they didn't harm Gram or Terrence. Terrence was no modest fool; he knew he had the smarts and capabilities to make it through. He would make it so that they'd live together. Someday, perhaps, Gram would even get back his memories and his brain. Then, they could live together, no secrets, just brothers.
     

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