1. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld

    The Third Earth -Anthologies-

    Discussion in 'Third Earth' started by Raven, Dec 20, 2008.

    Third Earth

    Third Earth The Anthology of Stories.

    This thread is for members and players to write a story residing within Third Earth. The story may be about one of your characters or a different character.

    You may also include resident characters within your story. But you may not kill them off.

    If you feel you would like to tell a story in your characters history feel free to do so here. You may tell any story residing in Third Earth. The idea of this thread is for everyone to become involved within Third Earth outside the game and add their peice to the persistent game.

    All posts in this thread must be fiction only and no critique.

    The Third Earth Anthologies is an attachment of Third Earth and has been created for fiction regarding Third Earth.

    ©2007 Hulls Raven Concepts All rights reserved.
    Brought from ©Hulls Raven Concepts 2008 a creation of S, Smith
    ©Third Earth and all logos rights and trademarks are owned by S, Smith 2008
  2. Leaka

    Leaka Creative Mettle

    Dec 17, 2007
    Likes Received:
    Morpheus Child of the Walls
    Part I

    They land itself was called Cavelerus. But they called their home of the walls NorthsIsle. No one was allowed out of the wall and no one was allowed in.
    They were to many dangerous out there and they were afraid the danger might get in. There were few children here, there were probably more children in the bigger walled villages then this one. NorthIsles was a small village with very few people, though a few traders came in. Of course they were with escorts warriors.
    And there were plenty of books in the caravan of his home, so the danger out there didn't really bother him much.
    His mother called him Child of the Walls and his father called him Morpheus child of dreams. He didn't know exactly, which was his name though he preferred Morpheus. His mother was slightly loopy, always looking into the fire and mumbling odd things.
    His grandmother on the other hand was something of a wild card. She was a badger, she was always grumpy and angry. She blamed him, but he couldn't see what he had done.
    He could footsteps up the caravan ramp and he would peak from his book and stare at whatever visitor may drop in.
    It was a girl with a bonnet, a dusty dress, and holes on it. Her name was Penny and she had knew loves every month, unfortunately since there weren't very many children here he was the subject of her affection this month.

    “Why don't we go for a walk around the wall?” she said with a giggle.
    Morpheus didn't answer her, they went for a walk around the wall yesterday. The only reason he had went walking with her was because his father said it was nice to have a girlfriend. Then again he probably had to admit his father was a bit loopy as well, Penny and Morpheus were only nine. And nine years old never thought about boyfriend and girlfriend, well Penny was an exception nine year old who wanted to get married in a castle.
    Morpheus was no prince, and he could hardly see himself taking any girl to a castle.

    “Why don't you make me some pretty lights?” Penny said.
    She was asking for him to create lightning sparks again. Last time he did that his father said wonderful, his mother yelled at the fire, and his grandmother slapped him. Of course these were his parents of his extended family. Truth be told these were Penny's parents and he just hiding from his own. His father was an escort warrior, his mother a housewife, and his grandmother a knitter. His true father never spoke to him, not even as a baby. He had no proof, but whenever Morpheus stood in front of the caravan to greet him home just gracing his father with his presences his father said not a single word to him.
    His real mother would eye him suspiciously.

    His real parents, unlike Penny's parents, never had given him a name. He had just adopted Morpheus from Penny's father, after he was child of dreams or child of wall. And he rather be a dream then a wall.
    “I think I have to be heading home now Penny,” Morpheus said.
    “Fine be that way, I don't need a walk around with you anyway...Diggly is so much more nicer to me anyway,” she said and stomped her foot.
    It was what she did to get her way. Morpheus just stared at her and then walked out of the caravan. Penny's father doing something even Morpheus couldn't describe. He was wearing funny goggles around his eyes and Penny's mother yelling at the fire.
    “Borrowing any books Morpheus?” father asked.
    “No,” Morpheus said.
    “That's to bad,”

    Morpheus would get in trouble anyway. It would be called taking advantage of the neighbors. It wasn't even that long of a walk to his home. His father was home, once again with no money and that strange sour look on his face.
    He stared at Morpheus, but say nothing and Morpheus said nothing. His mother looking up from stirring the soup.
    “For god's sake where were you?” she shrieked.
    “Penny's,” Morpheus replied.
    “You'd think she'd dump you...you are the least bit of what we call attractive,” said his grandmother in her croaky voice.

    Morpheus had a few scars his face, but nothing to bad. Morpheus stared at the ground and he mother came up and stared at him. Well more or less picked his chin up and forced him to stare at her. Her eyes looked nothing like his, odd child with snakes eyes, but he was no snake person. She put his head down and slapped him across the face. Morpheus was use to it.
    “Sorry I won't be late for supper again,” Morpheus replied.
    “You better never be late again or I'll have your father escort you out of this village and let the beast eat ya,”
  3. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
    Likes Received:
    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    A day for the child (part one)

    A Day For The Child

    The skies were overcast, thick smoky clouds hung over the small city of Sorrowmoore. Though the sun could not break through the clouds, light could be seen between the cracks in the sky. The weather was humid, one could feel their own heat rising from the sweat on their backs.

    Nadala hurried to keep up with her mother, every now and again she chanced a glance at the harbour where the boats could take one back to Perisia. She slid ankle deep in mud, a common sight on the streets in the poorer districts. A person had to be careful where they stood. Though an older person could walk through the mud with vigour. Nadala could not stop herself from thinking that she was standing in the contents of thrown out chamber pots. Nadala had been born in Perisia and had come to Blackthorne five summers ago. She barely remembered her travel here or the face of her father. As he and her mother had chosen to go their separate ways, soon after their arrival. The one vision Nadala could recall of her home land was the brilliant colours and rich tan coloured skin of the people who lived their. The people here were pale and dressed simply. Their faces and their attire were boring, nothing to strike the imagination of an eight year old girl.

    “Hurry up you scruffy little b****,” Nadala’s mother snapped at her. She stopped waiting for her wayward child. Nadala lifted the skirt on her beige dress, no longer concerned for the cleanliness of her clothes. Mother would be far more angry if she lagged then if her dress got dirty. It was not wise to make mother angry.

    “Yes mother,” Nadala said clambering from the mud to the cobbled path. She put her arms out to balance herself as her boot slid out from beneath her. The buildings here changed from rickety mud structures to heavier stone with fine walls and small gardens with weeping willow trees. Some of the buildings here even had little fences at their fronts.

    Mother weaved her way through bakers, salesmen and workers returning home, then she disappeared into a stout building with a heavy wooden sign at the front. Nadala couldn’t read so she simply marvelled at the curves of the letters before stepping through the doors. Even though the candles flickered the lighting in the tavern was dark and the faces silhouetted casting sinister looking shadows. Nadala cautiously followed her mother, a group of soldiers sat at a table wrapped in white clothes, no doubt by the local healers. Their eyes glistened as the watched mother, the way many a hungry soul had in years gone by.

    Mother beckoned Nadala to sit at a table close to the back doors of the tavern. Nadala took her place watching as mother called one of the serving women over. Several silver pieces were stuffed into the serving lasses hand and then mother was gone. Nadala stared out the window her thoughts still upon Perisia. Nadala wondered if they’d needed to steal when they were in the home land. Mother said their had been good times and that if father had not brought them here, no doubt they’d hold a noble status in Perisia.

    Mother was always talking about noble status’s and gold. She didn’t like the word stealing and Nadala had been slapped several times for calling what mother did thieving.

    The serving woman returned to Nadala with some meat and bread. She dumped it in front of her with a scowl, tsked and walked away. Nadala took up the piece of bread and bit into it watching as the dwarf they called mason approached the table.

    “Hail child,” he said sitting next to her.

    Nadala looked around the room before giving the dwarf a nod in greeting. Mother had told her many times not to hang about with the likes of a dwarf. He watched her with beady eyes as she finished the bread and meat with vigour and dusted her hands together.

    “Yer mother at it again is she?” Mason asked. His nose and cheeks were ruddy from the mead he’d been drinking and he glowed with a pleasant smile under the candle light. Not as fearsome as the others within the tavern, however Nadala had known him a summer now and he meant no harm to any man.

    “yes sir,” she replied, watching as the dwarf took a long gulp of the med he had brought with him.

    Two of the soldiers at a nearby table began arguing with raised voices and daggers. Mason looked at them then back at Nadala.

    “Lets go outside, child tavern be no place for a young lass.”

    Nadala gave him a wary glance then shook her head, “can‘t, ma said I shouldn‘t go far.”

    “here now, it‘s just out the back of the tavern, bit of fresh air will do yer good. Sides way you mother rants you‘ll hear her a mile away.”

    “Okay,” Nadala said sliding from the seat. She followed Mason to the bar where he retrieved a bow from the owner. Nadala had seen him carry it many times. It was almost the height of the dwarf elongated and decorated with a braid of green cloth around its body. At both ends their was a golden cranes head. Nadala had always thought it beautiful.

    Nadala followed him from the tavern and out to the back of the tavern. Their were tufts of grass here a pleasant change from the mud Nadala saw everywhere she went.

    “Does it unnerve ya lass, the things yer mother does,” Mason asked watching her as she collected stones from the ground. She nodded her head gathering the stones into the outer skirt of her dress.

    “Yes sir, sometimes I worry ma might go getting herself hurt.”

    Mason let out a gruff laugh and Nadala looked up at him in confusion. “Funny little thing ye be, should be worrying fer yerself first. Not that murderous broad of a mother.”

    Nadala tilted her head studying Mason. He was drunker then usual and Nadala hadn’t noticed until now that his eyes were glassy and full of sorrow.

    “Murderous?” she asked looking up at him.

    Mason shook his head. “yer not old enough to know why yet girl. Fer now I can only tell yer about yer Da.”

    Mason had spoken of Nadala’s father several times. Nadala understood that when her father was alive mason had been his closest friend.

    “Did, I ever tell yer lass that yer father was a mercenary and the owner of a notorious guild?”

    “No sir,” she said.

    “Well he was, ya Da was one of the greatest fighters a king could hire. The man was an arsenal. He knew more about weapons, then I know about a good brew and trust me lass, I know a lot. Anyways yer da Rion, his biggest weakness was the thing hanging between his legs. Ye know what I‘m saying don‘t ya?”

    Nadala nodded she’d seen her mother misbehaving with men well enough to know what he meant. “yes sir.”

    “Tis the date of his death today, now I handle his guild the red centaury. I‘ve told ye before. One day if you chose the path the guild is yours.”

    Nadala listened to him thoughtfully. “Ma never said it like that,” Nadala said taking a sharp stone from her skirt she turned it over in her hand and watched as a crow came in and landed on a low stone wall at the side of the tavern. She rose the stone between two fingers. “Ma said he weren‘t good for much.” Mason watched as she went silent her piercing gaze rested on the crow. Within a heartbeat she had given a quick flick of her wrist the stone in her fingers striking the crow in the eye. Mason watched astounded as the crow fell to the grass a dribble of blood escaping from the eye socket where the stone was lodged.

    Mason turned to Nadala, “here now child, where‘d ya learn a fete like that?”

    Nadala shrugged her shoulders, “I‘ve naught else or one to play with.” her eyes were still fixed on the fallen crow. “A farmer who lives just out of Sorrowmoore pays me well for each crow I kill.”

    Mason stared at her a while then swung his bow down from his shoulder as another crow landed eyeing his dead brethren with greedy eyes. “lets see you do that again with this,” he said passing the bow to her. Nadala gave him a cautious glance. “well go on girl take the bow,” Mason said shaking it. Nadala curled her hand around the bow, it felt wonderful in her hand. Mason showed Nadala the position her hands needed to take on the bow and then passed her an arrow and showed her how to knock an arrow. The string felt taunt as she pulled back the arrow, moving the outstretched bow towards the crow. She let her wrist flick and the arrow hit the crow before he had a chance to take to wing. The bird and the arrow were knocked over the other side of the low wall at the Taverns side.

    “Good, good,” he clapped her on the shoulder. “Now lets try something that‘s moving.” Nadala nodded. Their were no more crows. Over the other side of the fence their were hangmen blowing in the wind Nadala aimed at the scraggly form of one of the recent hangmen. There was a medallion hanging from his neck towards his heart. Nadala took up an arrow and knocked it. She let it fly then turned to Mason who looked confused. “What yer shootin at child?” Nadala turned back towards the hangman the arrow was jutting out of his chest.

    He looked and frowned, “you got a taste for shooting bad meet already lass?” Nadala shook her head, “look sir.” She took his hand and guided him over to the wall pointing once again. He let out another laugh and stared at her amazed. “you truly are Rion‘s daughter.” Nadala stared at the broken pieces of glass on the ground and chanced a smile, it was something she rarely did.

    “Nadala,” mothers voice shrieked from behind her. Nadala jumped in fright. “I‘ve told you a dozen times not to hang around with the likes of Mason Lord knows what his put in that stupid little head of yours.”

    Nadala stared over the wall, her mind frozen on the thought of the bow. She tightened her grip on it and stared ahead her gaze cold. “I want to get better. How do I do that?” she whispered to Mason. Mother’s hand snatched at her shoulder and she dig her finger nails into the flesh. She whimpered and looked towards Mason, the dwarf had stepped back he knew better then to mess with mother.

    “Nother time lass, when yer mother is in a more forgiving mood.” Nadala stared dumbfounded at mason as her mother dragged her back. She watched Mason as he disappeared within the tavern. Back through the mud slicked roads she travelled mother dragging her all the way.

    When mother let out a sigh and looked at her Nadala thought it was safe to speak with her mother again.

    “Was Da an Archer?” she asked her voice cautious. Mother looked at the bow that Nadala was carrying with her. “you‘ll have ta give that back to Mason, don‘t want the likes of a dwarf hanging around the house its asking for trouble. As fer ya Da he was a lotta things and useless was one of em.”

    They approached the hovel that Nadala and her mother lived in. the walls were higher here, like they were ready to reach out and strangle a person. Bland and brown they surrounded the streets, on every corner a drunk, a dying man a w****. Nadala’s mother swung the door open and threw Nadala down on the dusty floor. The hovel had only a small living area and two other rooms. Nadala’s mother let one out to make money on the side.

    “Don‘t you be picking up yer Da‘s trade Dal. I swear to you I‘ll thrash you till I see blood. In fact ye be needen punishment right now. Go costing me a nights wages will ya.” Nadala inched away as mothers voice turned to venom.

    “I won‘t ma, please I swear,” she whimpered her bottom lip quivering. Her sobbing turned to screams as her mother hauled her up by her hair. “No ma no,” she howled as her mother dragged her towards the hearth. Mothers patron had kept the fire lit, before he’d left the house on business. The flames licked at the air. Nadala stared at the flames terrified. “No ma,” her voice had become weaker. She knew there would be getting out of her punishment, eyes wild and bleary with tears she went limp in her mothers grip. Her head tingled from the constant pulling on her hair. Nadala closed her eyes as with a strong haul Nadala’s mother tossed her head first into the fire. She yelped as her head hit the wall at the back of the hearth. All common sense had seeped from her mind and she lay dumbfounded, her flesh searing in the flames. Her eyes would not open but she could here a man shouting at mother. Could feel the roughness of a mans hands dragging her back. The cool of the air stang her neck and she gagged unable to breath. She felt cold inside, perhaps it was the knock to her head, she wasn’t sure. She felt nothing, no urge to cry or hate her mother for what she’d done. It would get her no where. The world had no place for her emotions.
  4. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld
    Third Earth
    The Prophecy

    Ornathalas the High Elf King of Iyandan stood at the ledge of his castles peak. The sky above was a golden yellow colour this was the last signs of autumn as winter arrived. The city below was magnificently beautiful. His castle was the peak of the large mountain and all the way down smaller castles halls streets ran down to the base of the mountain and across the ground. Waterfalls with clean splashing water dropped down. The buildings and architecture were of a fine structure the buildings were white and smooth tall and thin with pointed heads. The entire city was clean and well kept. Leaves the colour of a golden orange drifted down from the tall trees scattered across the mountain side within the streets. The ledge on which Ornathalas stood was long thin and looked out across the whole of Iyandan.

    Ornathalas wore a white robe that drooped down to his feet and a long red cape that ended with a trail across the white ledge he stood on. His white hair was long and fell half way down his back his face paler and his skin smooth. He stood alone feeling the soft and gentle cold wind that would on occasion blow his hair in gentle wisps.

    “I sense you.” He said each word spoken softly.

    “How long have you been there?” He continued.

    Ornathalas remained in the same posture overlooking the beauty of Iyandan below.

    “I have always been here Elf king.” The voice said from behind Ornathalas.

    “What is it you have come to share with me Wizard that grows younger?” Ornathalas asked.

    “A prophecy Ornathalas.” The voice said again.

    Ornathalas slowly walked to the edge of his ledge his trail slowly moving behind in his wake.

    “If you have come to tell me the darkness is coming I already know.” The Elf king said.

    “The Darkness has always been here.”

    “So tell me of this prophecy you have to speak of.”

    “Before you’re time Ornathalas a legend was born yet tainted, the Son of the legend however was of pure heart and united all of the good on Earth under one banner and one land. He wielded a power and love that none could taint until he was betrayed from within the good. Eventually that betrayal tainted him and the kingdom. Another son was born who was corrupt and wanted only power. This king forgave the betrayal and stood with his knights. However he fell in mortal battle with his corrupt son.”

    Ornathalas turned his head to look upon the stranger. The man wore a red robe covered by a black cloak his face was smooth and his long brown hair moved with the gentle wisps from the blowing wind. He held a wooded staff in his left hand the staffs top held a light from some kind of ancient stone long forgotten.

    “I have not heard of this tale before Wizard who grows young.” Ornathalas said curiosity spiked in his voice.

    “Of course not. The legend is of First Earth and long since forgotten.”

    “First Earth?”

    “As you know Elf King this is the third generation of Earth, long ago before First Earth died was when this legend was born.”

    “I see.”

    “You do not see Ornathalas High King of the Elves because it is beyond you’re sight.”

    “How is it you see?”

    “I see because I was there. I see because I have always been here.” The Wizard said his words spoken softly.

    “And this prophecy what is it?” The King of Iyandan asked.

    “The legend ended with a prophecy. That prophecy was the King would return when the Earth faces its darkest hour.”

    “So tell me this then where was this king ten thousand years back when the dark forces rose and brought total war to the realms of Third Earth.” Ornathalas asked looking into the wizards eyes.

    “It was not the time. But now I see whispers of things to come. And darkness so terrible is coming that the Wizard order of the Light seek aide from the Ashiri. And will soon join with the realms of good to step back at the tide. But they will most certainly fail. A storm is coming Elf King Ornathalas”

    The Elf king turned back to the view of Iyandan and looked at the golden sky as the grey clouds began to gather above.

    “Has the order of light sent you to me to speak of this prophecy.” Ornathalas asked while watching the grey clouds as they began to cover the city below taking the light and consumed the fields and waterfalls below in a dark shadow.

    “I do not work for such orders I am above such things I dare say they may have seen a shadow of what is to come but they are not of my standing. I am far older than they or even you and Iyandan itself.”

    “What is this to me. This prophecy is of man what is it of the Elven people we are above such things.”

    “No Ornathalas you are not. And if the Elven people turn their backs on this then you will watch Iyandan below burn.” The wizard stepped closer to Ornathalas.

    “Then what is it you are asking of me.”

    “To look.”

    The wizard moved up to the Elf King and placed the palm of his left hand on the back of Ornathalas’s head. The King felt a sudden coldness engulf his body as his eyes turned a golden yellow the colour of the sky moments ago. He felt a sudden warmth take hold of his head and then all went dark.
    A vision came to his inner sight of a stone, then of a darker lord rise destroying everything in his path, and then he saw Iyandan as it burned. A white light blacked out the darkness and he saw a lone warrior though not his face. Then a whisper of a name a single word. Pendragon.

    The light and darkness went as the wizard removed his hand and stepped back letting the sight of Ornathalas’s eyes return. The city of Iyandan was still below and still beautiful. The Elf King looked back at the wizard then back to the city below.

    “I heard a name but it goes from my memory yet it is a name older than I can remember I have heard it before.” Said Ornathalas.

    “That name is older than Third Earth.” The wizard said stepping further back.

    “Remind me Wizard of the unknown.”


    Suddenly Ornathalas remembered and turned to face the Wizard but he was gone leaving the Elf King alone.

    A moment later another robed elf approached a younger elf with a golden hair stopped in front of his King and bowed slightly.

    “My lord what is it. You are paler you look as though a ghost has spoken to you.”

    Ornathalas looked at the other.

    “I heard a name that has not been spoken in other ten thousand years.”

    “My lord?”

    “Sentikan send word to King Victor Arcadius of Blackthorne he must aide the dwarfs.”

    The king paused looking at his warrior Sentikan.

    “And have Ithrythra lead the long ranger’s into Dramakor.”

    Seconds later Sentikan had left leaving Ornathalas once again alone watching the sky as the golden colour had all but gone.

    “A storm is coming.” He said to himself.
  5. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld
    Third Earth
    Blood Oath

    Part One

    The gentle rain began to patter across the ground, the hard soil softening as each drop landed with a small splash. The grass moved in waves much like that of an Ocean.

    The Lord Regent Logan Lion Khan a tall well built warrior sat atop of his horse. A cadre of guards behind him. They wore a black and chrome armour dull and matt. Each bore a sheathed sword at their waists. Regent Logan Khan was tall his hair dropped neatly brushed to the bottom of his back his beard dropped neatly combed to his chest. The softness of a gentle wind blew the greying hair about in small wisps. Which also blew his fur cloak. The Regent was known as the Lion.

    They sat mounted on horses watching as another horse rode towards them. The warrior sat atop seemed to be heading towards them.

    Logan raised his muscular arm to his guard. Three of which raised their crossbows and pointed then to the traveller who approached. Once he was close enough he slowed and brought his white horse to a trot then a sudden stop.

    “Speak you name.” The Regent called out. His voice bellowed like a giants

    “My apologies. I am Carde Warryn a Captain of the Blackthorne.” The warrior said. He wore the armour of Blackthorne chrome with a golden trim to show his ranking. His helm was fixed firmly on his head his face smooth but aged to show he was a veteran.

    The Lord Regent looked at Carde Warryn and smiled his face became that of a gentle giant his features more of a welcoming appease. The warrior behind the Lord Regent trotted past he wore the armour of the personal guard a dull chrome with a black chest plate. He removed his black and silver helm revealing his face. His hair was short cropped neatly and the side of his head around to the back was shaven bold. At the base of his neck he heralded a tribal tattoo. His face was set in a stern posture his skin smooth with three scars that ran from his forehead down to his left cheek in a diagonal strike. This was obviously a reminder of his encounter with a legendary wild mountain lion of kronas.

    “What brings you here to seek an audience with the Lord Regent the Lion?” The warrior asked his voice gruff with a snarl.

    “Easy Skraal. He comes in the name of peace, I will hear his words.” The Lord Regent Logan said. His voice spoken like a giants.

    Skraal trotted back accepting his Regents word.

    “What of you Captain Carde of Blackthorne, what brings you to the borders of Kronas?” The Lord Regent asked.

    “My lord Arcadius the 1st fears that there are Orc raiding parties across the border split between Blackthorne and kronas at Hayworth.”

    Skraal looked up suddenly interested in the Blackthornain Captains words.

    “I have come for fear. You see my wife and both my boys are in the Hayworth village and I seek to get them back to Blackthorne’s border. My wife’s sister is married to a man of Kronas and my wife visits. Only the other day Orcs had began raiding the border village of Preston and we followed the Orcs to the border but lost them. According to the map course they were headed for Hayworth.” Carde explained.

    The Lord Regent looked back at his warriors behind him his standard bear who carried the flag of the Red Cross and the lion flapping in the wind on his back hung from a golden pole. Behind him were a further fifteen warriors.

    Another warrior trotted from the group her armour trimmed with gold on the edges her hair long and red yet and her face smooth.

    “Captain Tarja what do you make of this.” The Regent asked.

    “We should at the least send a scouting force to Hayworth my Lord.” She said.

    “I will go Lord.” Skraal said trotting up.

    “Of course Skraal your family lives in the Hayworth village.” The lord said.

    Captain Tarja trotted at the side of Skraal’s horse and looked at her Lord Regent.

    “My Lord Regent I too would ask to ride with Skraal to Hayworth.” She said.

    Logan looked at his two warriors and to the Captain of Blackthorne, and then a smile crossed his face.

    “Take Breckt, Torin and Corth with you. I will ride back to the palace and have Sahaal ready a bigger battalion, if there are Orcs at the border. Ride back with word and Sahaal will meet them head on.”

    “My lord.” Skraal and Tarja both said simultaneously.

    “Should you greet these green skins on Kronas soil ride fast and die well.” Logan said aloud. All the kronasians slammed their fists on their chests to signify their honour.

    “Captain Warryn. My warriors will ride with you to Hayworth and they will escort you’re family back to the border of Blackthorne.” Logan said his voice a booming echoes across the fields.

    “My thanks Lord Regent.” Carde replied.

    Captain Tarja Tunny yanked her reigns and took off with a gallop followed shortly by Brecht and Torin then Corth. Skraal bowed to Logan then thumped his chest and rode off with Carde Warryn shortly following.

    The six horses raced across the hills as Tarja Tunny took the lead racing her horse as fast as she dared. Skraal followed close by with Carde Warryn at his rear. Soil from the ground flew up as the horses galloped leaving their mark. It had been nearly 3 hours since they left the Lord Regents presence and headed straight for the village of Hayworth on the border to Blackthorne.

    The group passed by a series of large rocks embedded into the ground riding past they came to the cliffs of Haywere. Captain Tarja stopped for a moment to take in the scope of the view below of the trees and fields and then in the distance the village of Hayworth. Skraal trotted at her side along with Carde Warryn.

    “Looks fine Skraal.” Tarja said.

    “If we hurry Anna will put us a pot of stew on and we can feed well for the night aye. Nothing like home cooking aye.” Skraal laughed.

    Suddenly they head galloping in the distance.

    “You got another patrol out.” Carde asked.

    “No.” Tarja answered quickly. Skraal turned to see the first sign of a large tusked boar come into view from behind one of the hills. Skraal continued to watch as he saw a figure riding the bore it held a large sword above its head.

    “ORC’S” He bellowed.

    Corth was the first to gallop off into the direction of the Bore but to his horror five more appeared followed by another three.

    The group watched as Arrows came from the riders and slammed into Corths chest and finally one between his eyes the Kronasian rider fell from this still galloping horse to his death the horse continued to drag him further before turning away.

    The other Orc riders on their tusked boars began charging towards the small group.

    Carde reached across to place his hand on Skraal’s shoulder, Skraal turned to give him a grimace.

    “Lad we need to get to the village there could be more headed that way.” He said to the warrior.

    Skraal nodded and turned the head of his horse with the reigns. He began to gallop away followed by Carde. Tarja and Torin did the same. Brecht took aim with his crossbow and fired. He watched as the long arrow flew swiftly through the air and into the head of one of the Orc rider’s. He smiled and turned to follow the others.

    The five warriors raced across the edge of the cliffs from their pursuers whom had doubled in numbers and raced after them.

    Some of the tusked boars began to close in on the warriors the green skin riders hurling swords that mimicked meat cleavers. Brecht slowed unsheathing his blade he engaged one of the green skins in sword play the Orc fell from his Boar while the second Orc charged his boar into the side of Brecht’s horse. The boars tusks stabbed into the side of Brecht’s horse knocking him from his steed to the ground with a crash. Brecht banged his head hard losing the grip from his blades hilt. The Orc slammed his meat cleaving blade into Brecht’s chest. The Kronasian warrior felt his ribs all crack down the left side. A warm feeling engulfed his chest as he looked to see the Orc had cut from his flak armour and sliced open his chest in one powerful blow. The warrior tried to grab at the hilt of his own fallen sword but the Orc was too fast and too brutal. Brecht never even saw the second blow come down all he felt was the pain before his body gave way and he died in pain.

    Skraal saw this and turned his Horse taking his sword from its scabbard Skraal charged towards the murdering Orc swinging his sword above his head like a propeller. The Orc looked up to see the madness in Skraal’s eyes as he charged at him. The Orc raised his blade to meet Skraal’s. The chagrining Kronasian lowered his blade then raised it taking the Orc by surprise leaving that same surprised look on his face as his head flew through the air. Skraal had sliced clean through the brutes neck decapitating its head with a flow of blood as it flew. The head landed with a thud and rolled away leaving the boar to slow. Skraal looked at the other Orc on the ground trying to reach its Boar. It made no good for Skraal sliced his blade in a side swipe taking the brute across the back and severing its spine killing it. Wasting no time Skraal turned back to the group and headed towards them.

    The Orcs charged faster on their boars chasing the four warriors from the cliffs and down a gravel slop and onto the long fields. Tarja pointed towards the woods ahead.

    “Once we’re in the trees we’ll separate. Skraal take Carde and Torin to the village I’ll turn the tide on these bastards and fool them into following me. I’ll take word back to Vendacore castle.” She shouted aloud.

    The group entered the woods and headed in deep. Tarja was the first to stop and took Skraal in an arm embrace of warriors.

    “Ride fast captain.” Skraal snarled.

    “Fight with honour Skraal.” Tarja replied and turned back towards the Orcs and rode off. Care trotted to Skraal’s side.

    “Is she mad.” He asked.

    Skraal snorted.

    “No she bears the heart of a lion of Kronas. She is buying us time Blackthonian.” Skraal replied.

    Carde nodded letting the chainmail of his armour jangle slightly. The three looked back to the sound of Tarja’s war cry as she rode straight through the Orc’s.

    The three warriors rode through the woods using the shadows of the trees to keep from sight and then rode off once out. They rode on for another hour before Torin stopped at the sight of smoke.

    “Skraal it’s black smoke.” He said.

    “Oh no.” Skraal said darkly. He rode into a faster gallop than before headed for the village just behind the clearing of the long cliffs and trees.

    Torin went to follw as did Carde. The three went into the trees when they stopped at the sight of three Orc’s. Skraal took his sword out and sliced on into two then brought his blade back for another swipe taking the green skin by surprise cutting it’s skull into two. The third leapt out its blade long and sliced into Torin’s chest cutting the warrior hard. Carde stabbed the brute through the heart. Torin slid from his horse to the ground. Carde stepped from his horse to watch an arrow fly through the air and take the horse clean in the head. The steed fell sideways into the trees. Cade saw the archer clear as day and took Torin’s crossbow in hand and fired. The arrow pierced the Orcs skull.

    “Father.” Came a voice. Skraal stopped to see a boy run from the trees holding his arms out wide towards Carde. Another boy followed they were teenagers. A woman followed her face thankful and she carried a bow. Carde dropped to his knees and took both his suns in an embrace as his wife followed them with her Sister in tow. The sound of a thud followed. Skraal watched the other woman fall an arrow embedded in her skull and blood splattered across Carde’s wife face.

    “Meya.” She called. Skraal threw his sword into the archers neck killing the Orc with a single blow.

    The green skin dropped to its knees choking and gurgling on the blade embedded in his gullet.

    Dropping from his horse Skraal took the blade from the now dead green skinned beast.

    Slowly he walked to the edge of the trees at the cliffs side and watched the black smoke rising from the flames of the village of Hayworth.

    “My love you’re safe now.” Carde said taking her in a hug along with his boys.

    “Wait here.” He said walking over to the now dead Torin who laid in a pool of his own blood. Carde closed his eyes for a moment. He then walked to the trees edge looking down the cliff with Skraal.

    The pair stood and watched as the Orcs fought with the villages and set fire to the huts and homes as they passed carrying large torches. Skraal watched friends die mercilessly slain by the brutes. He caught a glimpse of his youngest two sons as they fought courageously with two pitch forks but the Orcs overwhelmed them cutting the two boys to pieces. Skraal looked away from a moment then caught a glimpse of his elder son. His mouth dropped as he watched a large Orc grab the boy by the throat and scalp him the through his body to the ground and cut the boys head off.

    “Oh my.” Carde said watching the same.

    “They were my sons.” Skraal said his voice full of sombre.

    Skraal dropped down to his knees tears streaking down his eyes while he watched from afar as the Orcs burnt his village and raped and butchered his people. He caught the final glimpse of his wife as the Orcs brutally ripped her chest open with a cleaving knife cutting the unborn child from her belly. The larger Orc took the unborn child its umbilical cord dripping to the ground. The Orc leader held the child high laughed then tossed it into the flames of a burning house. Suddenly Skraal recognised the Orc as General Snag Rod the Arsonist. Skraal watched helplessly as his wife died screaming a horrific sound that carried across the land. Skraal dared not take his eyes from the last moments of his wife and his unborn child as the Orc’s murdered them most foul.
    The Orc’s carried burning torches and began setting the huts a light and watched as they burned, villagers covered in flames came rushing out screaming as their flesh burned. The Orcs stood and laughed then began chasing the burning villagers clucking behind them before cutting them down.

    There was no logic in the brutal killings of Hayworth village and the slaughter of the people. They were all peaceful folk. Skraal rose back to his feet his teeth gritted his eyes the colour of blood and his face set for a new kind of slaughter. He took the hilt of his sword and stepped forwards. Then the warm touch of a hand grabbed his elbow stopping him from furthering his steps.

    Skraal turned to see the hand was Carde’s he looked the Blackthorne Captain stern in the eyes the look of blood lust deep within.

    “Skraal it would be futile to attempt to take on so many of the Orcs. And I really need your help. I must get my sons from this place.” Carde said keeping focus on Skraal’s red eyes.

    “You dare to step me in my rightful vengeance. You are a bigger fool than I thought of you.” Skraal snarled.

    “I am no fool Kronasian but I do need your help. Is it not better that we save one of our families. I mean you no disrespect nor taint to your honour for this day you have retained more honour than I could muster. But I do not want to watch my sons die Skraal.” Carde said a shake to his voice.

    Skraal shrugged Carde’s hand from his elbow and faced the Captain of Blackthorne.

    “If you had been any other man I would have slain you for stopping me.” Skraals words were spoken with a menacing tone.

    Carde could see the red lust for vengeance and for a blitz second Carde thought he may feel Skraals vengeance. After all he had no right to stop him. But Carde needed Skraal to cross the border.
    “I swear on the lifes of my wife and son I swear to you this day Skraal of Hayworth I will pledge an Oath in blood that I will come back with you and help you hunt these monsters down. But I also need your help first to get my two sons from this horror.” Carde said. He took out his knife and sliced the palm of his hand and held it out.

    Skraal turned back to the village barely anything remained his pregnant wife and three sons now long since dead. He caught glimpse of their burnt smouldering bodies and the orcs cut them up. And then he closed his eyes tears streaking down his cheeks he dropped to his knees letting his sword fall to the ground he held up both his hands. He looked at the two boys Teele and Reede.

    “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGH” He screamed. He then lowered his head tears dropping fast from his eyes he held out his hand, taking the knife from Carde and sliced the palm of his own. Both men clenched hands tightly. Skraal took his swords hilt sheathed it in the scabbard and rose to his feet.

    “We get your boys home and we return for these beast. I warn you Carde I will not rest until I have slain all of them and General Snag Rod.” Skraal snarled.

    “It is our Blood Oath so set.” Carde replied.
  6. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
    Likes Received:
    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    A Day For The Child. (Part two.)

    The heavy red drapes in the room shifted with a humid breeze. Nadala lay watching them, the patterns mutating with each twist, as though they were dancing. Her neck felt better then it had in days and with a cautious movement she sat up. Nadala had counted the long days, fourteen of them and now she felt able to sit and stand. She could even swallow without pain. Standing on the bare stone floor she moved to her door way. She’d learnt she was at red centauries guild tower, they had looked after her since mother had thrown her in the fire.

    The people here were rough looking but often kind to her, telling stories of what her father had done when he was head of red centaury. How the guild had faltered when he had gone to Perisia, then flourished once more when he had returned. The stories were always told in a proud voice with reverent looks in the eyes of those who told them.

    She crept down the hall her eyes wide as she tried to find her way. There was a light half way down the hall that emanated from an open door. She moved closer and squatted down besides it. Her heart hammered in her chest and Nadala had to rub her eyes and look again. There in the library among the piles of uneven tomes, there stood a dark elf. Beautiful just like the stories that depicted, she was almost other worldly. Her hair was auburn and streaked with willow green, it spilt over her shoulders in a shining lustre that seemed unreal. Nadala continued to watch the woman as she floated around the room her heavy silk skirts following after her.

    Every now and then she would stop and stand behind a man who sat in a fine wooden chair. Their were spirals of patterns carved upon the legs and it was padded with leather. The man read a large yellowed parchment. She could hear snippets of conversation. Something about an obscured wizard and about a tower at lights end. She understood none of it but enjoyed here the woman speak. Such a beautiful woman with a hissing crackling voice, like that of a snake. Nadala listened with eager ears as they spoke of paramount places to lay trenches, and of places where the archers could be placed with out the worry of head wind. The woman paused and looked about the room her eyes settled on the door and Nadala’s heart pounded in her chest, she had been spotted. The woman stalked towards the door, as she did she began to crouch and to Nadala’s surprise she knelt besides her with questioning eyes. Nadala let out a startled grunt as the woman reached for her, Nadala threw her hands up to cover her face expecting to be hit.

    The hand fell lightly on her head ruffling her hair with gentle fingers. “How do you feel child?” The woman asked.

    Nadala looked about with wild eyes, a real dark elf and she had touched her. She told herself to be calm, the elf appeared to be part of the guild. She wore the embroidered armband of a centaury plant. The guilds tabard picture.

    “Stunned no doubt,” the woman continued. “You‘ve been resting for quite a while. No doubt waking to see one such as myself gracing the tower would be startling. You must be hungry.” the woman said and took her hand helping Nadala to her feet. The man was next to them now to, his facing glowing with a kind smile. Nadala had seen him before but had been to weak at the time to speak to him. He always smelt of strong herbs. His brown hair fell over his face so only flecks of his green eyes could be seen.

    When he realised she was watching him, he pushed the hair from his eyes. “Hello, I‘m Sol this is Felon,” he said patting the dark elves shoulder.

    “Well met,” Nadala replied. “where is my mother?” the two froze, their glances fleeting as they looked to one another for help.

    Sol spoke first, “she‘s not far. She said she was going to your home to gather your things.”

    Without a chance to ask how long before mother would return the two led her to the kitchen and had her sit. After a while a shout woman with braided black hair brought her a meal. Nadala ate slowly each swallow brought tears to her eyes. Nadala had been told that the pain of eating would more then likely stay with her for as long as she lived. Sol and Felon vanished without a word and Nadala stared at her plate, thinking of the look the two had shared when she asked about her mother. She began to threat, even Mason disliked mother what if they had hurt her. Nadala had heard stories that mercenaries were vicious and they always settled uneven scores in blood. Unable to eat anymore Nadala rose from her seat and walked back down the hall. She stopped again at the door of the library, it was closed.

    “What of Rion‘s girl?” she heard Felon ask.

    “We tell her Fawn ran away. The child knows her mother well enough to believe she‘d do a selfish act like that. Then we train her with the other girls for the battle at lights end.” Nadala had not heard this mans voice before, yet it sounded familiar.

    “No,” Felon replied. “she‘s not the right girl for this. You can‘t send a confused little girl to spy on the obscured wizard, he‘d kill her in a heartbeat and the others to if she was found out.”

    Nadala clutched her hands together holding them at her heart. Were they planning to hurt her? She shuddered and glared at the door.

    “Fawn will be dead by midday, Nadala‘s mother won‘t interrupt us and no doubt Nadala will be better for it. This is her guild we are doing this for her. The Sorrowmoore guards told me that she is in violation of many a law, they‘ve sought her for months. She‘s one for the chopping block.” the mans voice said.

    “Don‘t talk like that, you forget that this is Fawn‘s child as much as Rion’s. Nadala hears you talk like that and we‘ll never have her trust,” Felon snapped.

    “Nadala will be the one to smash the obscured wizards globe I can feel it…”

    Nadala didn’t wait to hear anymore. She had to save mother, she ran to her room and grabbed her bow. Back out in the hall she ran into Sol and fought his hands off with swats of her bow.

    “Nadala,” he called out to her. She ignored him hurrying out from the halls of the guild tower and onto the streets. Ran spattered her face and for a moment she looked up to the sky before hurrying onwards. The cobbled streets twisted and turned no matter how quickly Nadala ran the journey to the square where the beheadments and hangings took place seemed to take forever.

    She pushed her way through the crowd it was to hard to see so she turned back looking around her for somewhere she could see better. People pushed and shoved she couldn’t reach the gates to even see within the square. She turned in a circle looking about her. There was an unmanned tower at the right side of the square. She hurried around the perimeter of the square until she reached it, then cried as she climbed the ladder the pain of her burn screaming with heat. If she was to late. Mother would die and it would be all her fault. If she had never spoken to Mason none of this would have happened.

    Up in the tower she could see the stage of the square. Nooses dangled from a wooden beam, beneath five men stood waiting for their time to die. Their hands were tied in front of them, each stood to attention like soldiers with wooden crates beneath their feet, white cloth covered their heads. Nadala’s mother was dragged to the stage kicking and screaming with two guards holding her by her forearms. Nadala could hear mother screaming, even from up in the tower. She trembled at the thought mother was in pain. In front of a wooden cross made of heavy sleepers the executioner stood with an axe held to his chest. Nadala took her bow down from her shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver mason had given her. She put the arrow against the string and watched as mother was led to the cross and laid upon it. The two guards tied her arms and legs down.

    “I‘m sorry, I‘m sorry,” mother was screaming now. “Dal I‘m so sorry.” Nadala wiped her tears with the sleave of the blouse she was wearing and silently positioned the bow at the executioners chest. She wished she would stop shaking. The man rose the axe, his hands steady the movement slow and dramatic. The bow creaked as Nadala pulled the string back. The bow quivered as Nadala held it and when she let go of the string the arrow shot forwards in a rough direction. Nadala cursed she had not intended for it to stray. It plummeted towards the man striking him in the shoulder. The axe dropped down quickly, slamming into her mothers torso slicing her in half. Blood gushed from the wound entrails and blood traced their way to the ground. Nadala dropped the bow to the ground besides her hand over her mouth. Tears ran from her eyes and she stifled a wail of horror, how could it have gone so wrong.

    She was wrong to think she could ever have saved mother. She had made her death harder and far more unpleasant. There was a wave of screams from the crowd and the guards began to shout.

    “Where‘d that damned arrow come from.” one shouted.

    “Get them,” a guard screamed. “whoever did this cannot get away.”

    Nadala swung the bow back over her shoulder and turned to the ladder using her feet to slide down it. She ran as fast as her legs would take her. Her footfalls echoed the streets empty, no doubt most of the people were at the square caught in the commotion. A set of large hands grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her back into the darkness of an ally between houses. Nadala grunted in shock thrashing against her captor.

    “Lemme go you dog, or I‘ll bite all your rotten fingers off,” she screamed.

    “Oh, ho, ho, you‘ve got some fire girl,” mason said. At that moment Nadala swore she could have peed herself not from fear but relief. Nadala’s eyes were bleary, she was glad it was Mason, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed. Mason hugged her tightly.

    “Fear not girl, no harm will come ta yer. Did yer heart‘s bidding, you‘ll need ta learn to be stronger then that.” he ran his thick fingers through her hair, then lifted her from the ground to carry her.

    “I thought I had nothing a’ fore. Now I know I truly do have nothing.” she cried into his shoulder as he carried her back to the guild tower.

    Mason had Nadala taken to her room, when she had rested for a little while and all the tears were gone Mason and Felon came to her room.

    Felon sat next to her, her green eyes calmly surveying her face.

    “Why‘d you do such a foolish thing for , Nadala. If every man let their heart rule him, this land would be desolate, want would outweigh need.” Felon said putting her hand into Nadala’s it was the first sign of affection Nadala had ever seen the dark elf give. “You told Mason before that you had lost everything. You may not see it yet but in your loss you‘ve also gained. You‘ll have time no doubt to reflect on that. Mason and I were asked by your father to protect you if Fawn ever passed away. We will keep our word whether you want us to or not. We can make what you‘ve done gone unnoticed, but only if what you‘ve done doesn‘t reoccur.”

    Nadala glared at Felon this was her fault and guardian or not one day she would make her pay. One day Nadala would become ten times the fighter her father was, when she took the guild over that woman would bleed.
  7. Darkthought

    Darkthought Active Member

    Jan 10, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Newport News, Virginia, United States
    Konungir--Part I: Merilwen a' Laerwen


    Part I

    Marganis kept a hand on the hilt of his sword at all times. The place gave him an uneasy feeling. After all, humans did not belong in places such as this. Even a dwarf would have been hard pressed to feel at home in such a cave. The air was musty, the ground was wet, and the darkness was so thick that the torch in his other hand had a hard time cutting through it. It was unnatural. Then again, Marganis knew that what he sought was unnatural as well. When one goes chasing after myths and legends, one can hardly expect it to be all sunny skies and green ways.

    Up ahead Marganis could make out the shape of an opening. It wasn't so much that the torch was lighting the way well, but more like the shadows up ahead seemed thicker than the ones he had already managed to work his way through. Upon closer inspection, Marganis found the opening to be very narrow. With all his armor, he couldn't force his way through. Too determined, Marganis opted to strip himself of the cumbersome plate mail rather than turn back after coming so far. Once he was down to nothing but his chain and leather equipment, Marganis was able to slip through the narrow opening.

    At first he believed that his torch was burning low, but it appeared as though the shadows in the place were actually smothering the flame. Marganis drew his sword, searching the darkness frantically as the shadows devoured the last bit of light. He found himself blind in a darkness so complete that few ever to live have experienced it. Then Marganis became aware of a quiet voice whispering into the air around him, like a gentle breeze. Somehow it did nothing to comfort his racing thoughts and beating heart. Then, one by one, blue torches sprung to life throughout the chamber, revealing it to be so massive that even with all the new light it was still impossible to see its ceiling. When the last of the lights had lit, Marganis' eyes were lead to the center of the chamber where there was a raised platform and the single most beautiful elf Marganis had ever seen, which was saying a lot.

    "For am I not the most beautiful that you have seen Marganis Tanarban," came the voice, though this time Marganis knew its owner.

    Marganis found himself speechless as he stared upon the Elf's glorious visage. It seemed as though the sun itself had come down from the sky and made itself into and elf. Her white hair reached the floor from the chair in which she sat, her golden eyes seemed to be gentle and piercing all at once, and her skin seemed to glow with a warm light. There was only one creature Marganis knew could have looked as she did.

    "Merilwen a' Laerwen," his voice barely above a whisper as he fell to his knees, sword and torch alike falling from his hands.

    She smiled slightly, an action that sent shivers through Marganis to his very bones.

    "Why have you come here Marganis, son Erganis?" Her voice was like a chill wind on a cloudy day.

    Marganis shook his head a little, trying to clear his thoughts as he took his sword back into his hand and got to his feet. He took another long look at the beautiful elf and swallowed hard, grim determination setting into his features. "I...I come for the sword of the Daermaethor. You must give me the weapon, the legends say that you must!"

    The elf through her head back and let out a tremendous laugh. The darkness seemed to close in a little and Marganis felt sick to his stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

    "You pay too much heed to the old legends Marganis. You think you are the first to come across this place seeking the weapon of the Master?" Her demeanor changed. She looked furious and her beauty made it all the more terrifying. "Fool!"

    Marganis took a step back as the elf leaned forward. Only then did her weapon show. Marganis' breath caught in his throat. Nethlhindorniel. It was the sword of the ancient elven kingdoms...a symbol of great power.

    "Let me tell you a story Marganis. I think you deserve that much for coming so far. It is a story of love and betrayal, of war and death. Once upon a time, a time of which you may have heard, there was a great warrior. In the eastern lands across the great waters the warrior was called Kunor the Protector, for he was a protector. So great was he that the dark legions of chaos were pained to speak his name. They knew him as Gurum Thrakor, which means He Who Comes With Death. Even the mighty elves of the age in their hidden cities of magic knew of him, and they called him the Daermaethor, the highest title of honor a non-elf could receive at the time. It means Honored Blade. However, few now remain who know the warrior's true name, for all that knew his name lived ten thousand years ago during the War of Chaos when all the world was at the mercy of the things that dwell in the dark.

    "When Chaos had made its move after centuries of rest, the kingdoms north of the Indigosian Sea fell swiftly and without a fight. The kingdoms south of the sea were unprepared and knew that if something was not done, the legions of Chaos would continue to march unopposed. They were not ready for such a war. Word was sent out that the kingdoms needed three days to muster their armies. So the Warrior Who is Called Many Things sent out a call to gather the greatest heroes of the age for one battle against the forces of Chaos. Despite being outnumbered, many great warriors came to his call and he set out to meet the enemy. I know the warrior's name, because I was there. I was the treasure of the elves, the most beautiful of all of our kind. They called me the First Rose of Summer, and I was the warrior's lover. His name was Gunnar Konungir."
  8. zorell

    zorell New Member

    Jun 7, 2008
    Likes Received:
    growing on a tree with a buckeye
    Graceless Flight

    “Leave.” Dawns crowed from his window. “Leave. Leave now.”

    Lu’Scure glared at the crow from his dark room, wincing at the light streaming in the window around her, “It is not that simple. I cannot take flight as you do. I am stuck here, stuck to these floors as the pond water sticks to our cloaks. Cemented here as these stones to these walls.”

    Dawn tilted her head and blinked at him, “Find yourself. Leave, find yourself.”

    “Who taught you that dreaded phrase!? What does it even mean?” He growled and stood his full height to look down upon her. “Sorry, sorry.” He winced from his own voice and shrunk within himself, “Why do you say that every morning?”

    “Leave.” Dawn repeated before doing so herself.

    Lu’Scure pulled the drapes until they were only slightly ajar. “That bird, that dreaded bird,” he muttered to himself before returning to his notes. His father had demanded that he embrace his spells lest they become useless fodder within his mind. “A true sorcerer casts his spells with intention and confidence. Only the untrained and spineless allow the spells to flow and cast themselves,” Listher had proclaimed time and time again at his son’s inaptitude. “You cast like a wizard,” he would spit as if the words itself tainted his tongue.

    Listher made his entrance just as Lu’Scure failed once more to Force his books away from him. “Mean it you twit! What are you doing?! Poking the air. FORCE, FORCE it away. Mean what you cast and expect what you intend!”
    His father’s words shattered what little focus he was already expending, the dull ache washing over him, pulling his mind away from him. Listher’s Force reeled him back as he slammed against the wall, his head barely missing the windowsill he now lay crumpled under. “Did you feel my intentions? Did you understand what I meant?”

    “Yes, yes father,” he whispered as he tried to use the windowsill to lift himself up. “You intended to, once again, Force the last bit of dignity from my soul-”

    “Stop SINGING! Sorcerers do not sing!” Listher Forced Lu’Scure against the wall once more, this time leaving him with half of his body swinging out of his window. A third Force sent him out of his window and towards the stream below.

    “LEVITATION!” He belted as he careened towards the stream. A sigh escaped him as he slowly stopped and simply floated. Crap! Think! Where’s the shore, where’s the shore?

    “Find yourself.” Dawn crowed from beside him.

    “Where’s did you come from?!” He screamed and began flailing his arms in a vain attempt to right himself from his head down position. “Dawn, show me the shore.” Dawn nodded her head in understanding before descending to his right. Lu-Scure focused on her and felt himself following her, hoping that his Levitation held out until he was a safe distance from the ground.
  9. Leaka

    Leaka Creative Mettle

    Dec 17, 2007
    Likes Received:
    Morpheus Part 2, The Sale Out

    Morpheus was sitting at his caravan, his mother went off to buy some herbs from the Grangers on the other side of the caravan zoo. His tenth birthday was coming up, but its not like he was looking forward to it.
    The more he thought about it, the more and more he only wished to get older to make something of himself. Born of magic as Penny's father would say.
    “Honey...your birthday is coming up, what do you want for a present?” Penny said.
    She had sneaked up on him when he was thinking. He hated that about her, but he just stared at her.
    “Nothing,” Morpheus said.
    “You can't possibly want nothing,” Penny said in that spoiled almost girly way.
    “There is nothing I need at the moment, there is nothing at the moment I want, there is nothing here or there,” Morpheus said.
    “Then could you show me those pretty sparkles,”
    “You mean the lightning,”

    Why was he responding to her? Oh yes, to appear at least a little normal to his parents. His mother was walking over to the caravan he had noticed. His grandmother as well, they were coming towards the caravan together. Morpheus stared at Penny who's eyes were glittering out of excitement. She really wanted him to do it.
    “A quick second,” Morpheus said.
    Morpheus concentrated on his fingers, trying to remember the jumping of energy. And it happened blue sparks began to hop from one finger to another. Penny smiled in this wide awe. She didn't have any power like that, it was power anyone would wish for. He had noticed out of his eyes that his grandmother had caught notice of the sparks. Morpheus made them disappear quickly and Penny pouted as they disappeared.

    “What have I told?!” his grandmother yelled cutting off Penny.
    He watched as his grandmother came over in a hustle, her hands weren't as full as his mother, which left her to do as she please.
    She was there in a quick minute and she stared at him.
    “What have I told you about magic?” his grandmother said.
    Morpheus just stared at her with cold silence. He read in his grandmother's eyes impatience. Penny walked into the situation, it would be Penny's grave if she made a mistake now.
    “I asked him to...I really like when...”
    “Shut up you little witch....get out of here...I will punish him properly,” his grandmother said.
    Penny was about to make another move and his grandmother moved like a panther, she slapped Penny across the face. It was a clear message to Penny and Penny ran off to her home. His grandmother looked at him again.
    “Now which hand was it that you used your magic....aww yes it was this one,” his grandmother said.

    His grandmother grabbed his left hand and she dragged him to the caravan fire that he was suppose to maintain. She stuck his hand in the fire. He didn't cry out though, that is what she wanted from him. She wanted him to beg for mercy, but he wouldn't do it because he knew the satisfaction she would get.
    But it made her stop quicker then if he did cry out. She became a bit bored with these things when they didn't wriggle or squirm.
    She let out his hand quite quickly, so it was only a quick touch of fire. But his hand was still burned and it still stung.

    “We actually got you a present this year....though its an early present,” his grandmother said, “Your father will be taking you somewhere.”
    “Somewhere meaning his abandoning me,” Morpheus said.
    “Don't think like that we would never abandon you that is cruel,”
    His grandmother smiled and grabbed some wrappings and grabbed a towel dunked in cool water. Like burning his hand wasn't cruel enough. She placed the cool towel on his burn. Why was she doing this?After his burn had cooled down, she wrapped it up. He heard familiar heavy footsteps. It was his father.
    “Come,” his father said his voice deep and rich.
    Those were the very first words his father had ever spoken to him. Morpheus had no choice, but to follow.

    There was nothing here or there, there was nothing. Morpheus followed his father to find it was a very short walk with his father. It was a street vendor, the vendor was a general goods vendor. They sold everything. Now and then though they would have gifts like fake swords and whatnot.
    Morpheus noticed one at the moment. He noticed a man behind the counter. He had a strange hat and a mustache that looked like handle bars. He smiled, which meant the man knew something Morpheus didn't.
    “So this is the birthday boy and you want me to give him the present,” the man said.
    “How much?” his father asked.
    “Oooo.....two hundred notes notes,” the man said.
    “Done...I can collect some money on the way,” his father said.
    The man with the checkered coat gave his father two hundred notes and his father turned around. Morpheus didn't follow he just stood. He didn't exactly understand the situation. The man with the checkered coat and handle bar mustached walked over to Morpheus and grabbed him hard on the arm. This man's grip. He was another escort agent.
    “You'll make a good labor child for the boilers or the ovens,” the man said.

    “Labor child?” Morpheus said.
    “That's right kid...happy birthday,”
    Morpheus was dragged by the man, and Morpheus couldn't really fight him all to well. He remember his electricity, but that was to weak to do any real harm. He was just learning how to harness the energy.
    And by the time he tried it was to late, he was in a cage ready to be sold off to any man who needed someone to do his hard work for him.
  10. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld
    Third Earth
    Blood Oath

    Part Two

    Skraal knelt before the great angel looking down on the cathedral hall. Before him stood the finely sculpted lectern made of marble with the carvings of the almighty lord’s angels of Valhalla. The hilt oh his sword pressed into his bowed forehead as the blade stood firm on the stone tablet of the cold floor. Skraal’s hair was long and ran halfway down his back. He’d been knelt for some time he could feel the ache in his knee joints but refused to move deep in thought.

    It had been three years since the death of Adoela his wife who carried his unborn child and his three sons. The Orcs under the rule of Snag Rod the arsonist had slain them in a most foul manner. He felt for them as he’d watched from a distance while they suffered. Even now the thought shook him to the very core of anger.

    He had made a Blood Oath with the Blackthorne Captain Warryn Carde who over the three years had bonded in a friendship of brotherhood. Carde had kept his word and followed Skraal back into Kronas were they followed the Orcs to the border of Elwood. Many had been slain but the General had evaded them. On occasion they would ride together and pursue any leads on Snag Rod the arsonist. It had been three years now. Skraal himself had left the royal guard of the Lord Regent Logan Lion Khan voluntarily.

    Skraal remained deep in thought feeling the pressure from his Swords hilt as it pushed in his forehead. The light from outside shone through the Mosaic windows of Angels down onto the long wooden benches and the stone tablets of the floor. The hall was long and wide while the arched ceiling raised high up leaving an echo of any sound within the great hall. This was the main Cathedral of Kalmar home to the royal fortress of the Lord Regent. The sound of approaching feet from the rear forced Skraal’s closed eyes open the sound came from the large doors behind which were now open wide letting in the sunlight from outside. Six large pillars stood firm made from marble reaching to the high ceiling. Each pillar was carved perfectly with the shape of an angel embedded in each three stood firm on each side of the hall.

    “Skraal is it not time you stopped grieving.” The approaching priest said his words soft yet echoed through the hall.

    Skraal made no sign to move remaining in his posture crouched on one knee both hands around the hilt of his sword while his forehead rested firmly in place.

    “The Lord Regent hopes you will return to his royal guard. He values you as a friend and guard.”

    Skraal rose to his feet feeling the aching of his bones as he moved from his long stance. He swivelled his sword in his right hand then sheathed it back to his scabbard on his back.

    “As I value the Lord Regent.” Skraal replied his voice gruff and his lips dry.

    “Then maybe it is time you return to his side.” The high Priest Connaught said.

    “No not until I have taken Snag Rod’s life.” Skraal snapped back.

    “And will that deed let you grieve the loss of them Skraal.” A third voice said from the open doors.

    Skraal watched as Lord General Sahaal entered.

    The General wore silver and gold armour a long black cloak dropped from his back to the ground in a trail. His face smooth and his hair long and neatly brushed down to the middle of his back tied back only at the top keeping the long strands from his eyes.

    Skraal bowed his head.

    “It would make my vengeance complete my Lord General.” Skraal replied raising his head top meet Sahaal’s blue eyes.

    “Good. Because we have had a report that the foul General Snag Rod the arsonist has entered Cavelerus with a large war band.”

    Skraal looked to the east as the light of the sun flickered from the fluttering wings of an eagle flying past the Cathedral.

    “Arcadius has sent a force to hunt Snag Rod down. And the Lion has pledged we will aide this course.” Sahaal said.

    “And let us be honest with each other brother this hunt would not be right missing you from our ranks aye.” Came a forth voice. Skraal’s eyes lightened as he watched Carde Warryn enter the great hall.

    Both men gripped each other in an arm lock before they hugged.

    “It’s been a while friend.” Carde said.

    “Ride well Skraal.” Sahaal said.

    “I bloody will Lord General.”

    “And don’t come back until the buggers dead. The Lion doesn’t want you’re brooding to upset Lady Regent Iona.” Sahaal said finishing with a laugh.

    The three warriors stepped out from the two arched doors from the main hall and left through the cathedral’s smaller chambers and outside. The sky was blue and the sun high the view from the peak of the cathedral was breath taking looking down the mountain side they could see the city of Kalmer the capital of Kronas. In the distance was the large fortress of the Lion himself.

    “Well it is a long walk down.” Sahaal said placing his hands on both Carde’s and Skraal’s shoulders.

    The three men looked down the steps to the very bottom of the mountain, and then began their journey down.

    Three days had passed since Skraal had left the Capital of Kronas with Carde Warryn they had rode through Kronas to the border of Cavelerus were Captain Isabelle waited for them with a band of Blackthorne’s rangers.

    “The night is young my friend we should rest and begin the rest of our journey come early dawn.” Carde explained dismounting from his white horse.

    Skraal agreed and dismounted.

    “This is Captain Isabel of the Kings guard she is eager to see Snag Rod brought down and I thought she would be of good use to us.”

    Skraal looked into the women’s eyes she was beautiful her armour curved with her body her hair was platted from the top of her head and tied back tightly. Skraal found himself mesmerised that a Captain could be so beautiful. And then remember Tarja Tunney who herself was of beauty.

    Carde threw a slab of cut meat in a pan and hovered it over the fire that had already been lit by the others. 15 warriors of Blackthorne in total. After a while Carde took out his book and sat by the trunk of a tree reading it. Skraal sat with Isabelle while carving his short blade.

    “I hear you’re a skilled swordsman Kronasian.” Isabelle asked.

    “I’ve dabbled with the blade.” He replied.

    “Dabbled. We are to fight the Orcs in the morning and you’re telling me now you’ve merely dabbled.”

    “Take no head Isabelle Skraal can fight well as well as any here.” Carde said speaking above the chatter of the others.

    “Then we will see aye fair warrior of kronas.” Isabelle taunted.

    Dawn came early as the sun rose with a gentle mist covering the ground. Isabelle opened her eyes to see Skraal in the distance deep in prayer crouched on one knee his swords blade tipped on the ground while his long hair hung from his head as the hilt rested on his forehead.

    “He seems troubled Carde.” She said as she heard Carde approach.

    The other knelt at her side.

    “More than you could imagine. He watched his family brutally slaughter along with his village.”

    Isabelle stood and grabbed the reigns of her horse as she watched the others wake. All wore the silver armour of Blackthorne and carried crossbows on their backs. Each mounted their horses one by one. Isabelle took to the lead as the fifteen warriors followed. Carde placed his hand on Skraal’s shoulder.

    “It’s time we went.” Carde said.

    “That book what was it.”


    “Last night you were reading what was the book.”

    “Ah my book of poetry.”

    “Poetry are you a peacock.” Skraal said a smile graced his face.

    “Aye you know me better now Kronasian. The poems are peaceful for me.” Carde retorted.

    “Aye appen they are Carde.” Skraal said raising from the ground and turning to mount his horse. Both men trotted off after the others.

    After a few hours the group rode deep into Cavelerus headed for the borders of Elwood were Snag Rod had last been sighted. Cobin the sergeant at arms had spotted Orcs in the distance.

    Skraal Carde and Isabelle crept on chests between the bushes to see for themselves.

    “Orc’s alright.” Carde said.

    “Red war paint. Their Snag Rods alright.” Skraal snarled.

    Isabelle signalled her men who all took their crossbows in hand. Isabelle pointed to the small camp the Orcs occupied.

    “Surround them once in position fire those arrows. Any left standing charge in and cut the skin from the brutes.” Isabelle turned back to Carde and Skraal.

    The Sergeant at arms Cobin pulled the string of his crossbow back placing an arrow in place he licked his dry lips and then took a careful aim resting on knee by Skraal who stood with his long dagger in one hand and his sword in the other. Carde took hold of his Sword in a two handed grip as did Captain Isabelle. Once the others had surrounded the camp site Isabelle looked to Cobin then.

    “FIRE.” She screamed.

    The Orc’s looked up to see the sight of fifteen warriors armed with Crossbows emerge from the bushes and then the sound of thump thump. Splats of pure red blood splashed down across the grass as the arrows flew into their targets skulls hearts necks. The Orcs dropped to the ground with large thuds. Once the arrows had been fired those Orcs that remained took their axes in firm grips and charged into the soldiers.

    Swords clashed as soldier greeted Orc the Orcs fought well using the brute weight and strength they had to attack. The soldiers met their adversaries with a disciplined attack ducking and diving and stabbing. An Orc fell with a sword embedded in his mouth blood vomiting past his lips. Another Orc cut the chest armour of a soldier in two making a kill. Isabelle charged in swing her long blade side to side she made one kill then found herself fighting an Orc wielding two axes madly in an attempt to sway her from her stance. Carde joined her ploughing his sword into the Orcs face cracking the skull with the sound of cracking bone. The brute fell to his knees red blood dripping down his cut face.

    Skraal pounced violently into the camp moving swiftly his dagger high and his sword low he took one Orc by the knees another in the eye a third lost his head to the severe attack. Skraal was like a wild beast lost in the lust for blood as he moved accurately through the Orc’s cutting into them. Two more soldiers fell to the attack from the Orc’s and a large Orc emerged from his hut. This beast held a spiked ball on a chain and a large meat cleaver. He looked upon the crazed Skraal and swung his spiked ball slamming it into the side of Skraal’s face knocking the warrior to the ground. Blood flew through the air almost as though in slow motion.

    Isabelle moved ducking past a flying rock to intercept this Orc who was clearly a captain of the group. She greeted her sword with the large meat cleaver he parried at her. She backed off feeling the strength from his arm. Carde joined her trying to stab the brute. The Orc gave a side glance at Carde and back handed him across the face knocking him back into the bushes.

    Isabelle ducked as he swung his meat cleaver down at her. She felt her skin grazed as she back into a set of bushes. The warrior swung down again knocking her back further. She tried hard to keep up her stance but felt he was winning. Cobin came out at the beast his sword greeting the chain as the spiked ball wrapped around his sword. The Orc head butted him as he was pulled closer. Blood spread from his now broken nose as he stumbled dazed. The brute sliced his skull into two half’s with his meat cleaver. Cobin felt the bite of the rusted blade grace his flesh then fell to his death with the split of his skull.

    Isabelle charged into the beast from the rear sticking her sword into his leg breaking the hard skin. The Orc side swiped her with his wrist knocking her to the ground. The blow so powerful she blacked out from the pain.

    Skraal leapt from the ground at the rear of the Orc his dagger cutting into the pointed ear of the Orc Captain cutting it clean off as he passed.
    The Orc screamed with pain and swung the spiked ball at Skraal who ducked and stabbed the beast in the shoulder with his sword using the advantage Skraal ploughed his dagger into the inner side of the Orcs leg. Blood trickled out as the Orc suddenly dazed staggered back. With drawing speedily Skraal made a second lunged at the beast reaching up to his face Skraal ploughed his dagger into the Orc’s eye the Orc staggered with Skraal still on top of him. The meat cleaver fell to the ground as did the chained spiked ball the Orc slammed his fist into Skraal’s side knocking him off. Yet Skraal felt nothing but the lust for the kill swiped his blade to the left cutting the left hand clean from the Orcs wrists. Blood squirted across the dried grass.

    The Orc Captain fell back landing hard into a rock. Skraal placed his blade at the green skins throat. Carde now at his side as the soldiers had finished the fight leaving eleven of them after losing three to the skirmish.

    “Tell me bastard were is Snag Rod.” Skraal growled.

    The Orc clenched his eye wanting to hold his severed hand yet looking with his good eye at Skraal.

    “Da Boss Nut ere.” It replied with a disgruntled growl.

    Skraal began to cut its throat forcing the skin to break and a run of blood.

    “Last chance beast.” Skraal snarled.

    Carde watched as the Orc blinked pain stricken then considered his fate.

    “Da Boss gonna be in Dramakor godda Meet Da One Tooth.” It said.

    “Where beast?” Carde asked.

    “Da Borrda Of Ultakor.”

    Skraal cut his neck open letting the blood spill down like a fountain. Then stepped back watching as the large one handed and half blinded Orc try to hold its neck while gurgling blood.

    “Good enough.” Skraal growled.

    Carde felt this crude but said nothing Skraal had earned the right to slay the beast how he saw fit, yet Skraal saw the look in his friend’s eyes and cut the beasts head off with one quick swipe.

    Isabelle stepped up rubbing her head and looking at the blood stained flak armour of Skraal his face and arms were covered in Orc blood and he’d grazed his left cheek. She wondered what beast had given him the three scars that ran in a diagonal from his forehead to his cheek.

    “We’ll have to go to Ultakor.” Skraal said sheathing his sword.

    “I would need permission from the king first Kronasian warrior.” Captain Isabelle said sheathing her own blade.

    Skraal tilted his head to the side and looked at her.

    “The King may not allow his soldiers to cross Dramakor in scale for the rivalry between the Dwarfs.” She said.

    “I care not. I do not need the men of Blackthorne to follow me. But I will have my vengeance of the Orc General Snag Rod.”

    “I will as always ride with you Skraal.” Carde said wiping the dried grass from his armoured chest.

    Skraal placed his hand on Carde’s shoulder and looked into the older man’s face.

    “You have remained true to our Oath for three years Blackthornian. But I cannot ask this of you. Those boys will need a father to guide them in life. And to teach them. I cannot ask of you to follow me to Dramakor and onto Ultakor.” Skraal said his voice soft.

    “My boys are old enough now to understand the word of an Oath especially one made in blood. Skraal it is my honour to ride at your side. Though I fear we may need others. But others or not I will die at your side if need be.” Carde turned to Isabelle.

    “I will not be returning with you Captain.” He said.

    Carde walked back to his Horse as the others followed and took a package from his saddle. It was his wedding ring. He didn’t want to lose it in battle so kept it from his fingers.

    “Isabelle take this to my wife Meya and give it to her.” He said sombre with his voice and tone.

    “Carde would you rather not return it yourself.” She said.

    “I fear I may not get that chance. And would want her to have it back. If I fall she will always have this and If I know Meya she will grieve anyway.”

    Isabelle took the ring and looked to Skraal who mounted up on his Horse.

    “Take care warrior. I hope you find your vengeance.” She said then signalled her men to gather the fallen bodies of the three killed placed them on their horses and rode off leaving the Two alone.

    “What now friend.” Carde asked.

    “We head for the border of Dramakor.” Skraal replied.

    Skraal and Carde yanked the reigns of their horses and headed off for the border of Dramakor.
  11. zorell

    zorell New Member

    Jun 7, 2008
    Likes Received:
    growing on a tree with a buckeye
    Part Two:Dawn

    Dawn landed upon a treetop, effortlessly folding herself onto a branch below. Lu’Scure could only wish for such grace. His Levitation failed him some six feet above the tree and gravity pulled him the rest of the distance, oblivious to the numerous branches and their attempts to hinder his descent. What is that spell? Bubble? Aurora? Lu’Scure’s mind searched frantically for the shield as yet another branch lashed out at him. To his own surprise, he suddenly sang aloud, “Aura. Aura! AU-RA!!” The branches seemed to fold away from him, but the tree itself seemed to grow taller than it could have been before.

    Dawn looked down at the fast descending figure; her mistress had warned her of this silliness. But alas, she was to guide the little dolt. It wasn’t a bad thing, most times, she had a simple script to crow when necessary, and all she did otherwise was follow him. And his voice, he sang like a distant cousin of hers, except move euphony and less cacophony.

    Lu’Scure felt reality escaping him and lethargy embrace him as he continued to fall endlessly, the ground never seeming any closer. When does this end? Or is this a punishment for being the “Bastard Gray Child” Gramp used to lament about? Lu’Scure vaguely sensed the Aura disappear and the ground suddenly loom closer.

    Dawn jumped off her branch at the sound, startled even though she saw it coming. He wasn’t doing a good job of finding himself. And she was still unsure if that was what her mistress meant by “leave.”

    Lu’Scure woke to the dawn assaulting his eyes and Dawn pecking at his scalp. “Leave. Leave. Leave now.” She seemed to scream at him with each strike. As bright as the world seemed, his mind was still fogged. His foe from the night before loomed over him, smiling at his foolishness.

    “You maigh wan ta listen ter the lil chicky and get to runnin.’” The almost fatherly voice murmured to him from above.

    That, that was a tree…Oh god, I’m dead…that’s it…that tree just spoke to me…I’m going to kill that bird! “Stoppit already Dawn!” He sang low as she left his scalp and landed upon his chest.

    “Leave. Leave. Leave now. Now leave.” She repeated over and over, punctuating her pleas with pecks. AS gently as he could manage, Lu’Scure wrapped his hand around the little bird and raised her at an arm’s length. She began pecking at his fingers, pleading for him to “Leave. Leave now.”

    “You’ve one dense head, have you not? Message seems pretty simple. Leave, leave now.” Lu’Scure’s widened, it hadn’t been a dream! The tree was talking!

    “Wah? Are you talking? Do you know you’re a tree?” He asked as he tried to sit up.

    Dawn ceased her pecking and simply looked at the sad young man, “I’m a bird, not a tree.”

    Lu’Scure threw her away from him and scrambled away from her, “You speak!”

    Preening her feathers and collecting her wits, Dawn muttered at him, “My, aren’t we slow on the uptake.” Once finished, Dawn looked at Lu'Scure and stated clearly that their only chance of survival was for him to start moving immediately. "Sitting here with utter surpise at a talking bird serves no good for a wizard."

    Lu'Scure stood up and balked at the bird, "I'm not a Wizard, I'm a Sorcerer."

    "You're neither, you dolt. You're a meal waiting to happen, get moving. Leave. Leave,now."

    "You're back on that are you?" He responeded and began walking through the trees, glad for their shade. Dawn hovered ahead of him, guiding him as she had been told to do. Now that they were headed to the Dock, she just had to keep her big beak closed.
    1 person likes this.
  12. Darkthought

    Darkthought Active Member

    Jan 10, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Newport News, Virginia, United States
    Konungir--Part II: Sweet Caladwen-Day 1


    Part II

    The tall grass danced about in the summer night's wind like lithe dancers on a beautifully crafted stage. From his vantage point on the hilltop, Gunnar could see the entire width and breadth of Cavelerus, one of the mightiest kingdoms of his time. Looking down on all the starlit fields, Gunnar found that he was proud to call himself a Cavelerusan. That place had always brought him peace when his mind and heart were troubled and burdened, and if anything had ever troubled him then surely it was the threat of Chaos descending upon the land. Already he had heard tales from the North that the lands beyond the Indigosian Sea had been ravaged and burned to the ground. It pained him to know it, but he realized that even this sacred place under the stars was not safe from the war to come. He knew that even he, the Daermaethor, could not hope to defend stop the creatures of the Dark Realm from burning this place as they had so many others already. How many other secret paradises had fallen to them? Gunnar was a strong man, but the thought of losing this place was one of the few things that truly scared him. It would be second only to losing his lifelong love, the elf that named Caladwen. It was an apt name, for it meant beauty in the language of the elves, and she was truly the most beautiful among them.

    Gunnar squeezed Caladwen close to him as though he never intended on letting her slip from his grasp, and perhaps he never did intend on it. After all, she was the only true family he had ever had. His parents had abandoned him when he was still just a small child. Ever since then he had taught himself to survive. Perhaps that had played the largest role in making him the man he was. When you are always fighting for every last bit of food you can find and always looking over your shoulder just in case you are going to be jumped, you learn to be a good fighter and you learn to always be aware. Gunnar seemed to have had a knack for both.

    "What is it that troubles you my love?" Caladwen's voice was like the song of some mythical bird, like something out of the stories Gunnar used to hear as a child. It quieted his mind a little just to know that she was near him.

    Gunnar heaved a great sigh and stared up at the stars, breathing deep of the cool air. "Nothing so bad that your voice can't make me forget about it, my beautiful rose."

    Caladwen smiled, an action that could have moved a statue to tears of joy. Her golden eyes seemed to catch the light of the moon and cast it back in to the world with a little of her beauty attached to it. "Come now, my sword. Do you not think that I know you well enough to tell when you aren't telling whole truths? You are so tense. You need to learn how to relax."

    Gunnar could not help but laugh inwardly. Caladwen always had a way of seeing right through him no matter how hard he tried to hide something from her. Sometimes he wondered if she were not using her Gift to catch a glimpse of his fears. You see, Caladwen had been blessed with the greatest of powers. She was a Seer, and not just of the future, but of people. She could see into the depths of a person's soul and know the true face behind their masks. Admittedly her gift did come in handy when they needed to avoid trouble, but it sometimes irritated Gunnar. People's inner most thoughts should belong to them and only them, so Gunnar believed. However, Caladwen believed that if she could catch a glimpse of people's lives that she could somehow alter things for the better. Gunnar thought that the path of the future was better left unseen and untouched by any except for the gods. Perhaps he had been right.

    "I try, my sweetest star, but I know what awaits us as well as you do."

    Caladwen frowned a little and it pained Gunnar to know why. She nuzzled her head into his chest and moved a little closer to him. "The future holds many things and there are many paths that can be taken. We could flee. We could go across the Great Sea to the eastern lands. The people there love you well you know..." She paused for a moment and looked up into Gunnar's deep brown eyes, like deep pools that were reflecting his soul outward into the world. Caladwen furrowed her brow and sadness shone in her beautiful eyes. "But you won't run."

    Gunnar shook his head and stared back down at her as he ran a hand through her snow white hair. "No my love. It is not in me to run from what I know I must face. Even if we did run, even the Eastern Lands are not safe from Chaos. You know this."

    Caladwen closed her eyes and snuggled up against him, giving him a tight hug. "I know this my love, I just wish it were not so." Her voice quivered a bit as she spoke. "I could not face the rest of my life without you."

    It was the grim truth, and Gunnar hated thinking about the possibility of his death just as much as Caladwen did, but the truth was that he knew he could very well die in the coming battle. It wasn't his own death that saddened him, but rather the thought of no longer being with Caladwen. It tore him apart inside just as much as it did her.

    So Caladwen and Gunnar layed in each others arms on the hill top in silence for quite some time. Each simply cherishing the feel of the other, taking comfort in being so near. The kingdoms had needed three days to prepare. This night marked the end of that first day. On the next morning, warriors from all over the continent would be arriving to aid the Daermaethor in his effort. Gunnar only hoped enough would show up. He knew that by noon on the next day he would be waist deep in the blood of friends and enemies alike. He only hoped none of that blood would be his own.


    Marganis had been trying to move through the first part of the elf girl's story but he found that his body seemed to have been held in place by something. His straining must have been evident because the elf girl paused her story to watch him for a moment. Marganis looked her in the eyes defiantly although he was completely at her mercy.

    After a short while of studying him she stood from her chair. "You have come a long way Marganis. You have journeyed all the way from great Blackthorne into the very heart of the Black Land just for a simple sword. You have overcome all manner of lesser creatures; orcs, goblins, even the twisted creatures of shadow that dwell in this land of Chaos. I must respect your tenacity. I'm beginning to think that a simple story is not reward enough for your efforts. Come with me." She motioned him to follow and Marganis found himself being dragged through the air after her as she walked around behind the chair and the raised platform. Though he struggled against his invisible bonds he found that he was still unable to move.

    Beyond the raised platform there was a small path lined with the mysterious blue flames that dotted the entire chamber. As they neared the end of the path the darkness grew less and less. Marganis found it strangely refreshing to be in a natural darkness once more.

    "Look here. The object which you seek."

    The elf stepped aside and Marganis' breath caught. It was there. In all its shining radiance was the sword of the Daermaethor itself. Legends said it had been crafted by special communion of dwarves, elves, and wizards in honor of Gunnar. There were no words that Marganis knew that would have done the weapon proper justice. It seemed more like art rather than a weapon.

    "Such a beautiful thing," said the elf as she reached out to touch its hilt. As soon as her fingers made contact there was a great hissing sound, like water boiling. The elf girl withdrew her hand sharply and frowned. "You see Marganis, only Gunnar himself can wield this weapon....and those he loves. All others would be destroyed by the magic forged into its steel. Even if the legends were true and I could give you the blade, you would not be able to move it from its resting place."

    The elf girl turned and went back to her chair, dragging Marganis along with her. "Now...let us continue this story."
  13. zorell

    zorell New Member

    Jun 7, 2008
    Likes Received:
    growing on a tree with a buckeye
    Shadow Gifts

    After that rousing sing- along, Lu'Scure felt brilliantly renewed, but a shadow of gloom hovered around his shoulder. It would not leave, and even Dawn had begun to notice it.

    "Maybe a stroll in the forests would be good for you?" She offered from the table.

    Lu thought it over, he had always enjoyed being around nature, but he wasn't too keen on seeing the forest after that tree had talked to him. It wasn't normal, and he didn't like it. "No, maybe some ale, it seems to brighten the spirits."

    "What do you plan to do, charm the barkeep? You've no coin silly boy. I think a stroll in the forest will do you kindly." Dawn insisted, inching her way closer to him.

    Removing his hands from her reach in case she thought to peck at him, Lu'Scure shook his head once more. "Once you've talked to a tree, you tend not to want to see trees. Maybe the stables, but I must leave."

    "Yes, leave and go to the forest. When have I steered you wrong?"

    "Only once, and I shall never let it happen again." THe question brough back a far surpessed memory of the one and only time he had seen his mother, the year he had spent in suspension.

    Dawn ruffled her feathers and snapped, "'Twas not my fault that you were incapable of bringing yourself out of Freeze, your father had told you you weren't strong enough. He was likely to be right at some point in your life- it was just a coincidence that it had been that time. The shame of ye listenin' to a wee bird."

    "Dawn, where are you from?" Lu asked the bird after that outburst of hers, she had never used that accent before. "You have a lot of accents now that I think about it."

    Dawn shied away from him and looked at him sideways, "Why, whatever do you mean? You know where I am from, a gift from your mother."

    "Then how come she didn't mention you when we talked? She told me of a bird, 'a crow of smoke' she called it."

    "Well, smoke can be thick black!" Dawn puffed and began to show her agitation at his insinuation, "Are you to call me a liar? After all I've done for you?"

    Lu wasn't sure...things were becoming very weird.
  14. zorell

    zorell New Member

    Jun 7, 2008
    Likes Received:
    growing on a tree with a buckeye
    Lliliean of the Schi: The Gateway to Hell

    Lliliean of the Schi:
    The Gateway to Hell

    We aren't all meant to follow in our parents' footsteps, but we naively aspire to. That is, until reality takes a massive bite out of your dreams.

    Lliliean had never thought that she would not live the life of her parents, married and domestic. Her mother's light way of going about her day and mantainging a household with thriteen children had captivated Lliliean since she had been but a wee lass. Her father's joyous return home with the wares of his trade, blacksmith, and the odd trinket for his only daughter had brightened her day since she was a babe. And being the youngest of thirteen and the only sister among brothers, she had never in her life been told she could not or would not, things were given, and happily so.

    And then they came.

    The ground undulated with the force of the many hooves which brought hell to LaFraer. The horses' riders, all donned in black as if the very soul of Death had birthed them, steered them to each and every house and ripped man, woman, and child alike from their homes and cast them about the street. Il-lior, their leader stood in front of his lone white horse and appraised each villager as it hit the ground, searching for the one he had been sent for, a growing maiden with hair the color of a calm day's clouds, smile of the angels, and a temper which even demons would cry at. Schi wanted her, there could be no peace in his band until she had be retreived. It was this very reason that Il-lior had begged for his master not to travel to such places, one is always predisposed to crave the exotic, especialy one as childish as he.

    It was the house next to the Blacksmith which turned out the maiden as well as thirteen men of feirce determination. The thirteen brothers arced around the girl and her mother, each brandishing a finely crafted sword and the eye of a beast. Il-lior watched, amused, as the boys attempted to engage his men in battle- they knew not that his men were ruthless and cutthroat, it was very unwise to satnd in the way of a Schimen. The impending fray momentarily escaped Il-lior's mind as he caught sight of the maiden- Schi had been right, unusual as she may be, she was captivating none-the less, and her eyes were bluer than calm stream waters. She just might be an angel. But she was still Schi's, death befell one whom stole one of Schi's possessions, he had never learned to share.

    Il-lior apprached the group and gestured for his men to drop their weapons, "Come now, we can discuss this like level-headed men." He offered his grandest smile, a gesture lost in the visage of a haggard man of sixty whom had never known the meaning of "calm and peace." He offered the mother his hand, "My name is Il-lior. We are so very sorry to have defiled your kind village, but we have come to retrieve a gift for our leader. She," he said, gesturing to Lliliean, "has caught his eye and we shall never hear the end of it if he is not to have her."

    Mellanor stood aghast at his insinuation, "That is my daughter you vile excuse for human! My husband's in the shop right there! He'll kill you if you so much as skew her skirts!"

    "Ah, my lady, the blacksmith is of no concern- the brave are always the first to fight and the first to die. Now, we shall leave your village be as soon as the gift is retrieved; whether or not you live to see her go is your choice and yours alone." Il-lior used his eyes to signal his men, there would only be one solution to this problem.

    "You'll have to go through my sons, and me, before you shall touch a hair on my daughter's head you scroundrel!" Mellanor waved her own sword at the man and, with her eyes, dared him to attempt it.

    "Well, you've lived a full life." Il-lior blinked and fourteen swords made swift work. Lliliean stood agape in a circle of fourteen headless relatives. Il-lior stepped over her eldest brother's body and sweeped her into his arms, "You are now Schi's," he said merrily as he leaned over and picked the sword out of her mother's hand. "No use in allowing this beaut to rust of blood, this tooo shall be Schi's." He returned to his horse and saddled it with Lliliean on his lap and the Sword of Mellanor in his belt. Waving tohis men, he proudly decried, "Men, we're done here, to Schi we go!"

    The ground undulated once more as the Hellions of Schi rode off leaving the once peaceful village of LeFraer as nothing more than the scraps of an unfinished carcass.
  15. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
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    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    Lights end part one

    The obscured wizard lived in a tower with gates made of weaved gold and pillars of crystal. From Sorrowmoore if you looked out upon the forests, amongst the vivid green of the wild oaks you could see a shimmering blue mound reaching out for the sky.

    Red centauries guild tower was no marvel when compared to the tower at lights end.

    Now though many would state other wise the obscured wizard was by no means vicious, cruel. Rather he was controlled at first by his greed and then by the greed of others around him. In his kindness had even harboured a cast out Prince from the realm of Perisia.

    Scarred by war and cast out by his own mother. The prince was a shattered man who seemed more like a doll or a puppet then a man to any who beheld him. The obscured wizard knew better of the man for once he had held the key to making night time creatures and capturing the espiers of dead spirits so he could convene conversations with them. Though he cared for the prince he also cared for the wondrous knowledge he held and wanted to make it his own.

    The obscured wizard had an agreement with the city of Sorrowmoore. In return for safety and other wonders a wizard could offer a city, the wizard was given three young women when he required company. Now don’t take this the wrong way, he was not a perverted man, merely lonely. He had lost his own five daughters many years ago and soon after his wife had died from what could only be described as heart break. This year as always was the case when knew women arrived the wizard waited in his gardens, watching as the gardener trimmed the hedges and feed the yellow roses with water. This year like any other year, red centaury the lords favoured guild brought the ladies to him.

    Lined up in the garden the wizard paced up and down the row of girls two blondes and like a thorn a girl with black hair and eyes that looked like they were the gateways to constellations. He was stern at first the wizard always was hard at first. He liked to be respected, he had received the right with his years of studies. Most of the girls who came to lights end would bow there heads with reverence. They were eager to learn from the wizard. Often he taught the girls the art. However the thorn stared at him with her void like eyes.

    The wizard turned to Mason, “this one,” he said pointing back at her. “She won‘t learn much from me.”

    “Why not?” the dwarf replied his voice was tart. As though he was ready to defend the young woman.

    “She has the look that she could have learnt. To old now.”

    “Do ye want me ter take her back?” Mason asked. The obscured wizard laughed at the frustrated look on his face.

    “No she will stay with us I think.” he turned to a maid who stood to the side of him. Show these girls to their rooms “Have the black haired girl wash up and come down to me.”

    The maid nodded and ushered the girls through the winding garden paths up to the tower.

    The wizard looked at Mason once again. “Before you leave Mason, tell me that girls rearing was by your hand wasn‘t it.”

    “Aye, she‘s indeed my daughter. You hurt her in any way and I‘ll knock yer pearly whites in, you get me?”

    The wizard laughed again, “No harm will come to this girl or any other.”

    Mason nodded and without another word he turned and left for the stables.

    The day was starting to warm and being a man who spent many hours a day inside he could feel the sun searing his flesh. He moved inside and sat at his chair by the hearth of the fire in the sitting room. The fire was unlit and the heavy stone cooled the room. He would be expecting a visitor later that day but until then he wanted to spend time getting to know the girls who would be living with him. After an hour he began to nod off. The maid called out to him and he lifted his head.

    “Master the girl you requested.”

    The thorn had stepped into the room and the maid vanished with out a word as was expected of her. He watched as she stood where she had entered warily eyeing the hearth.

    He looked to the hearth expecting to see a bug or the likes, there was nothing there. He frowned looking back at the teenager again. Her gaze was steady remaining on the hearth. He thought to ask what the matter was but chose not to. He had dreamt of this child and like a tower of blocks in the wind, her temper was unsteady.

    “What is your name?” he asked his voice was kept soft for the purpose of not alarming her.

    “Nadala Celeste sir,” she replied. Her eyes didn’t not shift from the hearth.

    “How old are you?” he asked.

    “seventeen summers sir” she replied. He continued to question her, what do you like, what do you do at home, tell me about your parents. Her replies were uniform without joy or emotion. Like a doll.

    “Do you know your reason?” he finally asked her. Her eyes flitted from the fire to his face. He almost had to ask her not to look at him. Her gaze was almost unbearable.

    “No sir, won‘t you tell me what?”

    He smiled at last he held her interest. “You‘re a vessel. You hold magic, you‘ll never be able to lift your hands to use it. However at times if your will is strong enough it might guide you. People like myself draw on you to do magical deeds. You see child magic doesn‘t come from no where it must have a place.”

    She was looking at him again her gaze had softened and confusion flashed across the soft features on her face. “I will show you with time. For now I bare a warning, you should protect yourself. People will use a girl like you readily. Now go and ready yourself for the evening meal.”

    Nadala disappeared out the door and he stared after her. At last she was here he’d waited ninety years for this girl. She dispensed energy. Like a brook he would have to be careful not to suck her dry of it. She would be well looked after, he would be sure she received her every whim. If he could just have her stay and fore fill the dire prophecy.

    The evening meal was brought to him in the sitting room. Two plates as his guest had arrived and was to be up from the stables soon. The man flitted in shrouded in dark robes his lilac eyes glinted from beneath the heavy black cowl he wore.

    “Well,” he said. “Was I right my niece is the one from the dire prophesy is she not?” he asked his voice was low.

    The obscured wizard nodded. “indeed, the same girl from my dreams and from the scroll. No doubt we can get to work soon enough and when things here are completed we can return to Perisia and fore fill it.”

    “What of the mad prince?” the man asked.

    “For now he will continue to live Donavan. We can not have a family reunion without your half brother can we now?”

    The man rose from his seat and nodded, “very well then. I‘ll take my leave before Nadala sees me here with you.”
  16. CommonGoods

    CommonGoods New Member

    Sep 12, 2008
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    That small dark corner of your mind
    New beginnings

    “You are a wizard, aren’t you?” The sun was shining brightly, turning the water of the small lake near his village into a festival of bright reflections. The young boy was holding a oversized fishing rod with both hands, even though the chance he would actually catch anything was about as high as the chance of him getting a straight answer from the robed man next to him. “Does it matter what I am?”

    The boy smiled, pulling the hook out of the water to dip it back in a few seconds later. “I just wanna know.” He looked up to the man. He seemed to be about forty years old, thick black hair and funny eyes. And although he had known the man all his life, he still hardly knew anything about him. “I’m not going to tell you something you already know.” Right. The same answer he always got.

    “Why do you never appear when others are around?” The man let out a small laugh and put a hand on the boy’s head, messing up his hair. “They don’t have to see me. Only you do.” It would be foolish to ask why. But then again, he was seven years old, and had every right to be foolish. “Why do I have to see you?” The man smirked. “Because I have to see you. Because of what you might become.”

    The boy pushed the man’s hand away. Always the same cryptic answers. Staring at his fishing float, he tried to remember a time when this man hadn’t been there. He couldn’t. He had known this man longer then his current family. As an orphan, he was moved trough the village a lot. Everyone took turns in feeding him and giving him a place to sleep, and although everyone tried hard to make him feel at home, something was always missing. “Why do you have to see me?”

    The man stood up, smiling, and put his hand in a small pouch that hung at his belt. He took out a small locket, which he dropped next to the boy. “Because you are a Lexicon.” He turned and head for the trees, leaving the boy alone with the oversized fishing rod and the small golden locket. “Till next we meet, Edward Walker.”

    Edward woke up in his least favourite way, when a one and a half pound weighing piece of wood ended it’s downward movement on his right foot. He swore out loud as he kneeled and gripped the unlucky organ. “Dang it Ed, I’m sorry!” Ed shot the man above him a murderous glance before returning his attention to his foot. “Robert you imbecile, you could have hit my head!”

    “Don’t act like it’s all my fault! You are the one that is dozing of while we’re supposed to be building!” Robert managed to sound annoyed, somehow. Then again, the man was right. But being wrong didn’t make Ed’s foot feel any better. Actually, it made the pain worse. “Anything broken?” Ed took deep breaths before attempting to move his toes. “Hurts like hell, but I can still move my toes. Seems I got lucky.” Robert grinned and held out a hand to help him up. “You did. Five inches to the left and we would have had to bring you home in a wheelbarrow. What were you thinking about?”

    About a meeting with a wizard I call father Timeless, about the day he gave me the golden locket no one has ever asked me about, the day he first told me I am a Lexicon. “Nothing.”

    They had been working on this small barn at the request of Samus, one of the towns wealthier farmers, and had made some good progress this week. He and Robert had met years ago, when they both worked for an old carpenter. When the man had passed away, they had taken over the small company, profiting from the companies good reputation. They were hard, skilled workers, who finished projects on time, even under unfortunate circumstances. They started to put away their tools, before heading home.

    Edward sighed as he entered his cottage at the outskirts of town. He limped towards the fireplace and managed got a small fire started, when some knocked on the door. “It’s open!” Edward had expected Robert or one of his neighbours, but instead heard a far more familiar voice. “I know.”

    Edward smiled into the fire. “It’s been a while, father Timeless,” he said, without turning. The man behind him chuckled. “Can’t have been more then a few weeks, can it? You’ve gotten too used to me being around.” Now it was Edward’s turn to chuckle. “It’s been five seasons.” He turned to the robed man, a wide grin on his face. “If anything, I’ve gotten too used to you not being around.” The man returned his grin, and not for the first time, Edward was amazed at how young the man seemed. Indeed, he didn’t seem any older then the day they had first met. The name ‘father Timeless’ had been well chosen indeed.

    “You’ll have to forgive me then. I’ve been busy. Things are happening.” Edward shrugged and limped to one of the two seats. “Things are always happening. I’m surprised you’re still visiting me.” Father Timeless had told him long ago that although Edward was a Lexicon, he was of no use to the man. He had the ‘gift’, as father Timeless called it, but it was to weak to be any good.

    The man winced and closed his eyes, as if the words Edward had spoken had physically hurt him. “Don’t give me that. I claimed you a long time ago, and although your mind and body belong to me, I’ve always treated you well.” For second, Edward regretted saying anything. It was true. Both man were silent for a while, not an awkward silence, in which neither party knows what to say, but the type of silence that falls when both parties know nothing needs to be said.

    Eventually, it was the robed man that broke the silence. “I’ve come bearing gifts and an assignment.” He rose from the chair and stepped outside of the cottage, only to reappear seconds later bearing a long iron blade. It was a beautiful weapon, with marking running from the hilt up to 3/4ths of the straight blade. It looked ancient, and for a second, Edward’s breathing stopped. He knew this sword. Well, he didn’t, but some part of him did. “I don’t want it,” he whispered. The man slowly shook his head and placed the weapon on a nearby table.

    “You will take it with you. You will travel to the south for seven days, then to the east for twelve, to the border with Kronas. You will find a small village named Oakrest, where you will live.” He watched Edward, who still stared at the sword. “You want me to leave everything I have behind?” It was a plea, not a question. “No, Edward Walker, I don’t. But it has to be done. You will leave tomorrow.” With that, the robed man left him.

    Edward had been travelling east for eleven days now, trough woods, fields and over dirt roads. He had packed only what he needed, plus the coin he had saved throughout the years, and the blade that father Timeless had given him. And even though he was travelling light, the trip had been exhausting. He hadn’t seen a soul for five days now, and sometimes wondered if he was still going the right way. Every now and then, he would glance over his shoulder, wondering if perhaps he should have taken another road, or should have head further south. Movement had been slow the first three days, and perhaps he would end up to far north.

    But round midday, his doubts started to vanish. He was seeing traces of human activity; trees had been cut, rocks moved and after a few more minutes he found himself standing at the edge of a large open field. In the distance he saw a small village; Oakrest. Or so he presumed. It wasn’t much to look at, but after nearly seventeen days in the wilderness, it seemed like a grand city. There couldn’t be more then three dozen houses, spread throughout a small vale, and Edward shook his head. He had left his home for this? He sighed and started heading for the village.

    The villagers obviously weren’t used to travellers, and they eyed him suspiciously as he walked trough the town, looking for a tavern of some kind. Frankly, he had no idea where to go or what to do, but for now, he wanted food and a drink rather then directions. He eventually found a small tavern named The Oak’s Rest. Edward shook his head and wondered what brilliant fellow had come up with that name. Never the less, he entered.

    Taverns were supposed to be lively places, and The Oak’s Rest had been until Edward stepped in. Suddenly, everyone seemed to be more interested in this unfamiliar face then in their neighbours or drinks. Edward took a seat on the far side of the bar and signalled the man who seemed to be in charge. It was a short man, although he made up for his vertical limitations by being twice as broad as Edward was. “Ye, what do ye want?”

    Edward twitched. A room, a meal and a clue why the hell he had come here. “Something to drink, please.” The man snorted and gave Edward a onceover. “Ye no’ from here are ye?” Apparently, the drink would have to wait. “I’m not. I’ve come to live here.” It had not been the answer the man had expected, and he blinked several times, as if Edward was a mirage. “Ye what?” Edward suppressed a sigh, not wanting to insult the man. “I’ve come to live here.”

    The common room had gone silent, again, and Edward wondered if he should just get up and go. Perhaps this wasn’t the right village after all. “Yer her husband?” I’m what?! Now it was Edward’s turn to blink like a madman. “Your pardon?” The bartender shook his head before snorting again, more loudly this time. “Edward Walker, aye? Yer woman has been waiting for ye for a week now.” Some of the men at the bar shook their heads. “Ye got some guts, sending yer wife here with ye stuff only to show up now.”

    He was married. Odd, he didn’t remember getting married. He had a wife. Who the hell did he marry? He had a house, and stuff. When? How? Why? Edward just sat there for a minute staring, his mouth slightly open, looking as if he had lost his mind. But the small man didn’t seem to notice, continuing his rant about how a terrible husband he was. He eventually slammed a fist on the bar, finally pulling Edward out of his trance-like state. “Are ye even listening? I say, go to her!” Edward stared at the man for a second, before turning around, falling over his own feet, and getting up again. suddenly realising he had no idea where he was heading.

    “Where is my house.” If he hadn’t been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Edward would have realised how stupid the question was. But the bartender seemed to have already decided that he was a madman, and simply shook his head. “Ye buy an old water mill, and ye ask me where it’s build? Yer not only a scumbag, yer also…” Edward didn’t even hear the rest of the man’s words as he half ran half fell trough the tavern door, and started to run further east. He was married. Why the hell would anyone think he was married. He wasn’t married.

    Anyone who has ever walked long distances will tell you that it is not the best of ideas to run after a pause. Edward never met anyone who had ever walked distances, and found out the hard way. After half an hour of running, his legs started to hurt, so he slowed his pace. Ten minutes after that, his injured feet started to throb, so again, he slowed down. An hour after that, he finally heard the sound of running water, and he was nearly crawling. Suddenly, he found himself in a small clearing at the edge of the river.

    It was a nice place, actually. There was a small field, a large vegetable garden and a shed, large enough to house some cattle. And then there was the house itself; an old watermill that had apparently been converted into a house a long time ago. Edward hold his breath for a while, looking around suspiciously, as if orc raiders could appear at any moment.

    He heard her before he saw her, and her voice made his breathing stop. She was singing an old nursery rhyme, and although Edward couldn’t hear the words, it sounded familiar. He slowly moved towards the house, but before he reached the door, the singing stopped, and a woman stepped out. Or actually, a girl. Edward had never seen such a beautiful creature in his life. Long blond hair, a pale skin and wonderful, mysterious eyes. The same eyes father Timeless had. Wizard eyes.

    As he gazed at her, she shifted uncomfortably, and Edward realised he was staring. He quickly looked away, trying to look everywhere except at her, which didn’t make the whole situation any more comfortable. “I, ah, I was looking for, ah…” “Are you Edward Walker?” she demanded suddenly, and Edward suddenly wished he had been born with a different name. “I am. Who are you?” It sounded more hostile then he had meant it to. He swallowed hard before finally looking at her face again. She was biting her lower lip, as if she was trying to make a difficult decision. Then she spoke again. “He’s inside.” With that, she turned away and head for the shed.

    He watched her walk away and caught himself holding his breath. He shook his head, and after taking several deep breaths stepped into the house. He didn’t have to go in to know who was waiting for him. Father Timeless had made himself in one of the wooden rocking chairs next to the fire place. He smiled as Edward closed the door behind him. “How was your trip?” Edward threw his gear on the ground and glared at the man. “I’m married?!” The smile on the wizards face faded somewhat and he rose from the chair. “You are. To her.” Edward stood dumbstruck. It was one thing to know you were supposedly married. It was another thing to be told you were married. “I’m married?!” The robed man snickered, but Edward didn’t see the humour of the situation.

    “Why?!” He had never felt so outraged in his life. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. Boy meets wizard, boy get’s married to a girl he has never met before? Some steps seemed to be missing. “I wanted her to be save. And I trust you to keep her save.” Edward felt as if he was choking. “And so you got us married?!” protecting was one thing. Getting married had not nothing to do with protecting. If he wanted him to protect the girl, he could have just asked. “It was the only way. You don’t look alike, so you couldn’t have been brother and sister. This was the only other way.”

    The man’s logic hurt, and Edward rubbed his temples. He had been travelling for the last nineteen days, he was tired, his legs hurt, and now his head felt like it would explode. “We can’t be married. I’m twenty-five years old. She can’t be older then twenty, she’s to young. It’s…” The robed man cut him of. “She’s just turned eighteen.” Edwards world collapsed inwards. He stumbled to the other rocking chair and sat down. “Eighteen? Only eighteen?” He was seven years older then her. “I can’t do it.”

    Father Timeless kneeled in front of him, placing his hands on Edwards shoulders. “Yes you can. And you will. You will stay here, with her, and keep her save. You will protect her with your life. This is your purpose from now on.” Edward stared into the man’s face. All humour had faded now. And despite the man’s words, Edward realised that it was not a demand. It was a plea. “Why. Why is she so important?” “Because she is a Lexicon. And her gift can be used.”

    The rest of the day was awkward. Both Edward and the young woman tried hard not to be around each other any longer then absolutely necessary, and neither spoke a word. When the sun started to set, smoke started to rise from the stone chimney, and Edward wondered if the young woman would be cooking for both of them. He had fluctuated between calling her a woman and a girl in his mind, but had found that woman was to inaccurate, because of her age, and calling her a girl was just plain creepy. He had eventually settled with ‘young woman’, knowing that one day, he would have to ask her her name.

    When the smells of food started to drift out of the house, Edward sighed and walked back in. The growling of his stomach had finally bested the awkwardness of the situation. He looked at the young woman, who was busy pouring soup into two bowls. He sat down at the large wooden table and watched as she stood up and placed the bowl in front of him. They ate in silence, and when they were finished, she rose again and took away the bowls and spoons. Edward shook his head before clearing his throat. The woman turned to face him. “There’s only one bed. I suggest you take it. I’ll sleep on one of the chairs.” The woman nodded. “Thank you.” Edward sighed and rubbed his temples. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

    The woman turned to him, and for a second, he thought he saw something resembling joy in her eyes. “Daphne. Daphne Walker.”
  17. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
    Likes Received:
    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    Lights end part two

    It had been several weeks since Nadala, Mir and Cilla had been placed at the castle. Each girl knew their place as a spy for the Lord of Sorrowmoore. Many years ago, red centaury had been asked to survey the wizards behaviour and the strange creatures. Without proof to condemn the man or bring forth a siege. The girls had been trained as a last resort. Though Nadala had taken her place as red centaury’s leader there were times when they could do without her after all she was young and had much to learn. Mason was a capable leader even if he did drink himself stupid most of the time.

    The tower had many rooms and stairs that lead off in all sorts of directions. It was any young adventures dream. While the other girls were contented in winter to sit in front of the hearth hearing the wizards stories of days long past. Nadala couldn’t resist exploring.

    She hurried up the steps and turned down a hall she hadn’t ventured into yet. There was only one door in this section of the castle. Nadala found that strange when the other sections of the tower were lined with doors. This section had a hall that stretched for at least two feet with a door at the end of it. Nadala walked down the hall slowly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

    When she reached the door she paused. Behind the door she could hear shuffling and the sound of man sobbing. He sounded distressed and Nadala frowned. “Hello.” she knocked lightly on the door and the sound vanished.

    She took a deep breath and opened the door slowly. Nadala Shrieked as a half clothed man threw himself through the door knocking her to the ground. He pinned her down and raised his fist her heart was hammering in her chest. He stunk Nadala gagged trying to push herself away from him. She was going to be sick.

    “Stop it,” she shouted at him. She stared dumbfounded as he obeyed the order and backed away from her slowly. She knelt on the floor looking up at him he was tall and possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His eyes were piercing, jade coloured and naturally narrow. His skin was pale, his hair was ginger and matted. Nadala was stunned why was he in here? How long had the obscured known he was there in that state? She cringed how could they be so cruel and leave him in that state. He was cautiously backing away from her. She slowly stepped towards him. Her hand raised to him she kept her eyes locked onto him.

    “Shhh, here now its alright,” she coaxed to the man. He froze, let her come to him. She held her breath the smell was awful. she could describe it no other way then faecal and rancid. She put a hand to his face and he flinched against her. His face was still emotionless. She gently brushed dirt from him and smiled.

    “It‘s okay I want to help you,” she said softly. “Stay there I‘ll draw you a bath.”

    Nadala coaxed him back to his room she felt bad. To send him back in there it smelt awful, the room was dark the windows boarded with wood and the hearth unlit.

    She shuddered she could feel something, it was like a great reverence but it spilt over with something like a thousand feelings all at the same time. She had never experienced anything like it before. She knelt down on the floor her head woozy she lent it against the cool of the stone. She was dry reaching then vomiting as the emotions swallowed her up. Her eyes were watering. She was howling with sorrow and rage. They emotions were not her own, Blood splashed the stone. Alarmed she raised her hands to her ear wiping them on it. Her head it hurt like it wanted to explode. Her hands weak and shaking she brought them towards her eyes and shrieked, they were wet with blood. She could hear the man in the background he was sobbing hysterically. What was this?

    She drew herself up to her hands and knees and crawled from the room. She dragged herself to the door and slowly through the hall towards the light of the stairs. There was a figure at the end, the person was faint a silhouette in the light. She closed her eyes and the figure faded into darkness.

    Nadala woke in a high sweat, her bed sheets were drenched. She put a hand to her ear and gently rubbed it dried blood crumbled away. Her first thoughts were for the man and the pain that had came to her so suddenly. She wondered how such a thing had come to pass. She kicked her bed sheets back and stood up. Nausea struck her and she sat again putting her hands to her head.

    “Good you‘re awake,” a maid said entering the room. Nadala stared at her waiting for an explanation to how she’d come to be in the bed. None came to her.

    “You must wash up and eat, the wizard is waiting for you. I‘ll tell you one thing now lady Nadala. If you want to have an easy time here, stay away from the mad prince.”

    Nadala’s gaze drifted, a mad prince? What was a prince doing here? Nadala allowed the maid to help her wash up and then followed her to the living area where the informal meals were often had.

    Cilla, Mir and the obscured wizard all sat at the table. As Nadala was seated the eyes of the trio fell upon her. She felt nervous it didn’t surprise her they all knew, after all the group was small and they spent their days together. Nadala was a little more distant, she wouldn’t speak with the girls only answering to the various maids and the wizard. She quietly ate as always struggling with the meal.

    “Girls would you please leave the table, I want to speak to Nadala alone.”

    Nadala watched as Cilla and Mir left whispering to one another, the wizard stood up and Nadala obediently did the same. She guessed a scolding would come next.

    “You don‘t eat a lot Nadala,” the wizard motioned to her breakfast that had barely been touched. She stared at her plate.

    “No sir,” she replied.

    He stared at her expectantly and she refused to answer the prying gaze. He sighed and beaconed her to come.

    “I want you to help me this morning, it‘s come to my attention that you are stronger then I thought. I want to try something with a orb. It will be a simple task considering the size of magic you carry. It won‘t cause you much pain.” The wizard explain he led her to his workshop and hand her sit. Closing the doors he walked to the centre of the room. “You need to sit down and be still. Don‘t try to think or feel anything I will draw from you.”

    Nadala nodded her head and watched as the wizard unveiled a large amber orb on a stone pedestal. Nadala remained quiet watching as the wizard closed his eyes. Nadala could feel ghostly fingers probing at her. She tried to obey and instead turned her gaze to the orb again. She blinked it was changing colour flame red then black began to mingle in and swallow the colour. Nadala jolted back shocked. The feeling from the night before was returning.

    “No, wait,” she cried out. The wizard was to deep into trance to hear her. “Please,” she cried. “Don‘t make me.”

    As the sensation began to swallow her she could hear the sound of glass cracking and suddenly the orb shattered.
  18. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
    Likes Received:
    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    Light’s end part three

    Nadala had chased the mad prince around his chamber until she was blue in the face. Trying to catch the man to have him bathe was quite the challenge. He danced the whole time, laughing in her face.

    Weeks had past since the Obscured wizard had tapped into the magic within her and in turn her power had shattered the orb. Things had changed immensely since that time. Cilla and Mir had been sent home by the wizard. His excuse was that things were becoming to risky around the tower. Mason had taken them, the wizard would not allow Nadala to speak with her adoptive father. Nadala had noted from the window of the mad princes room, where she spent her free time that Felon was with him. The prince had become her companion.

    The prince was completely insane, he had moments where he asked where he was and what his name was. Or he would flatter her by saying she was the prettiest maid he’d ever laid eyes on. Sometimes he would babble about fire and speak of unthinkable things that made her shudder. Nadala could deal with all those things. Sometimes when she spent time with him she would go into what she had began to call an episode where her head would began to throb and she would vomit and bleed. Screaming as though she herself was direly insane. Nadala dreaded those moments, she could manage them as long as it meant he wouldn’t have to suffer being alone and without the attention and care of another.

    Finally the prince gave in from his torturous dance, deciding to sit on the floor and have an imaginary cup of tea, his pinkie finger up in the air. Nadala sighed and sat in front of him admiring his beautiful face. As she bent forwards her shirt moved revealing the ugly scar from her childhood. He touched it as he often did running his fingers over the smoothness he babbled about a storm of fire. Nadala reclined leaning on her elbow in the spilt bath water. He crept towards her on all fours and she laughed splashing him with a little water.

    “What are you now?” she joked.

    “In love,” he replied. Nadala’s arm slipped as she moved shocked and she fell back against the stone.

    He‘d said something that made sense, her heart hammered in her chest. She felt that too or was it part of his illusionary world. Would it hurt to indulge in the fantasies of a mad man? He lent in a kissed her with his lips, soft and warm. She shuddered pleased at the contact yet concerned she was doing the wrong thing. He rested his forehead against hers and she lay there staring into his eyes. Finally content to go without worry for what she was doing. There was a heavy knock at the Princes door.

    “You‘ve been with Geo for hours Nadala. I need you now,” the wizard called. Nadala sighed and gently pushed Geo back. He looked hurt until she ran her fingers through his hair and smiled at him.

    Standing up she went to the door soaked in bath water. The prince was completely dry, a typical bath time. The wizard raised an eyebrow and Nadala followed him out into the hall.

    Instead of the workshop where they often went, the pair walked outside into the garden and the wizard lifted his sleave an orb protected beneath it. Nadala almost groaned aloud, he was going to make her hurt again. Nadala wanted to be able to ask him about Geo again, the wizard never answered her questions though and the mad prince continued to be a mystery. She longed to be back with him in his chambers, no doubt by now he’d be having a tantrum that she had left him.

    The garden paths were lined with pencil pine in the autumn period the dropped spinney branches that crunched under feet. The pines disappeared and wrought iron gates to a cemetery replaced them. Nadala stopped looking back at him, he was planning to perform magic of a darker type. The sort of magic dark elves often practiced and humans frowned upon. She turned back and the wizard grabbed her wrist.

    “If you ever want to go home you‘ll do as I ask,” he said in a raised voice. Nadala obediently followed him into the cemetery. The tombstones had became crumbled stone. A shattered angel’s stone face stared up at her and she carefully stepped around it. Wizards and their families laid here a long line of the obscured wizards ancestors. Old moss covered willows blocked out the sun and the cemetery remained in darkness, cold and serene.

    The wizard brushed dirt away from a stone and Nadala could feel rage bubble from within her. He wanted to speak with the dead.

    “Sit,” he ordered she did as she was asked watching as the wizard put a hand over the orb and closed his eyes. The ghostly hands began their search and then the pain ignited within her. She lay as always with her head upon the ground. Enraged that she had vomited and had no other choice but to lay in it. The pain started to fade. Her own anger taking hold over the feelings in the orb.

    “Clear your mind Nadala,” the wizard ordered. Nadala swore to herself and pushed the anger aside allowing the pain to take her again. Blood mingled with the vomit and she lay helpful as the wizard drew from her to convene his conversation.

    “Where is the tome…” she could hear him ask. The dead body was snarling even from where she lay she could smell the mouldy bones. When the wizard was done using what magic she had the bones would collapse he was in no true danger. Nadala felt the wizard pull away from her. There was still a voice.

    “So theirs my brothers b**** daughter,” the mans voice said. She couldn’t turn to look but she could feel him standing above her. “Pity, pretty girl like that related to him. She‘s lucky I‘ve more use for her, or I‘d have killed her the day she entered the guild.”

    It was Donavan, Nadala’s own uncle was here calling her names. The rage was building again pushing away the illness that had taken her.

    “Now Donavan, without Nadala neither of us have the power needed to take Perisia‘s palace,” the wizard said.

    “You had better be ready old man I‘ve made the arrangements for the ship that will take us there. It will have to be done quickly. Or the guild will have our heads.”

    So that was what the guild had placed her here for. There was a snitch up to no good and it was Donavan. Nadala felt hands tug at her wrist and roll her away from the vomit. “Shouldn‘t leave her laying like that old man she could choke and die.”
  19. Jade

    Jade Active Member

    Jun 6, 2008
    Likes Received:
    England, UK
    A New Path​

    Lightning raced in ferocious branches, illuminating the inky menace of the sky. Two dark figures stumbled down the side of Thunder Mountain. During brief lulls in the booming of thunder, their voices could be heard.

    “No, Cadus. Come back to the Order, I beg you." The second, smaller figure hurried to catch up. Karis caught her brothers arm and clung on. "It is not too late for this to be undone. We will face the council together. They will listen and understand. Can you not see? Kytholas has corrupted your mind! Lord Zoreth will forgive –“

    Cadus pulled his arm free of her grip and continued down the mountainside. “Forgiveness?” he laughed over his shoulder. “I do not need or want the forgiveness of that man. I am not loyal to him anymore.”

    Karis stopped. “What about me?” she whispered. “Are you not loyal to me, brother?”

    The sound managed to carry in a brief moment of silence. Cadus stopped walking, his shoulders tensed as he turned to her. For an instant the lightning illuminated a troubled expression his face. “Come with me, Karis. Lord Kytholas will welcome us both.”

    “No.” She shook her head. “The ways of Black Rose are evil to the core.”

    “Spoken like a true disciple of Zoreth,” he sneered. A moment later, the expression faded into something kinder. “Goodbye, Karis. Fare well in this world.”


    He ignored her call. Cadus continued down the slope, meandering through the boulders and rubble towards Elwood.

    Karis watched until the darkness swallowed her twin brother. As his robe disappeared into the night, sadness tainted her pale blue eyes.

    Time passed, marked only by the hissing of the rain on the rocks and the raging of the storm around her. Karis stood like a statue, her eyes fixed on that one point as she waited. After an immeasurable amount of time, the storm calmed and the first rays of morning broke through the clouds.

    Karis looked up towards the peak of the great mountain. There the towering Castle of the Order of Light stood on the highest peak.

    The haunting dark shadow in her gaze deepened into grief. She turned to the stretching valley that would take her away from Thunder Mountain. The only path left to her. Karis began to walk down the mountainside towards the foreign world.
    1 person likes this.
  20. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld
    Third Earth
    Blood Oath

    Part Three

    The woods fell into silence apart from the beat of its heart slow and concentrated it looked about its head moving cautiously it’s nose twitched at the air around sniffing for danger.
    The dagger was in hand clenched tightly the breath dropped to a slow all movement came to a standstill as though time was lost and stood still the only sound to be heard was the beat of its heart.

    Thump, thump, thump.

    Suddenly its ears spiked up on end and it leapt from the grass its movement so precise and swift. Yet Skraal was quicker he moved with a speed of a racing cheetah bringing his dagger high he stabbed down ferociously impaling the white rabbit in the spine. Blood spattered across his clenched fingers on impact and the rabbit let out a squeal as the life drained from its body. Skraal sliced the dagger down cutting its spine in two killing it instantly. The rabbit dropped into a limp flop. Skraal removed his dagger and wiped the blood from the blade across the dried grass and slung the large rabbit over his shoulder.

    He looked up at the sound of birds fluttering from the tree branches and saw Haegre the large Kronasian warrior approach. Behind him stood the Dwarf Turin, the smaller held a long red beard down to his chest and wore a pointed helm with horns to either side.

    “You bested it then eh.” Turin said a grin to his red face.

    Skraal smiled.

    “Aye rabbit stew for supper.” Skraal said letting his breath return.

    The sky was beginning to turn dark and the weather was becoming cold as it always did at the low peaks of the woods in the Dramakorian Mountains.

    The three watched as a gush of wind blew through the trees letting the leaves fall gentle to the grassed ground below. Haegre the tall muscular man stood looking at the leaves scattered across the ground he held a large hammer in his left hand his face was long and covered by a copper red beard. His hair dropped past his shoulders breaded in parts.

    “Autumn is here.” He said. His voice boomed like that of a giant, though Haegre was very tall and muscular to most he would have seemed a giant of sorts.

    The three men walked through the trees and to the gravel road Skraal carried the limp rabbit over his shoulder leading the way from the tall trees. The sound of rustling leaves brought the trio to a stop. Turin was quick to raise his crossbow to height. Heagre clenched his fingers tightly around his hammer.

    They saw nothing and waited for a few moments until they were satisfied there was nothing of a threat.

    “Maybe another rabbit aye.” Turin said speaking first.

    Carde sat at the head of the long wooden table a tankered of ale in one hand and the meaty leg of a turkey in the other he chewed the meat from the bone looking around at the dwarfs and Kronasians who sat around the table with him. The sky outside was dark and the moon was high the fire burned brightly warming the wooden tavern comfortably.

    The door opened and the room fell into silence as mighty Heagre stepped in from the bitter cold outside behind him Turin the red bearded dwarf and then Skraal carrying the carcass of the Rabbit.

    The trio spotted Carde and Brannigan sat at the long table feasting on the meat and drinking the ale.

    “Yer started without mighty Heagre. No fair.” Heagre said with a roar of laughter as he swiped a tankered from a nearby Kronasian guardsman.

    The guardsman rose to his feet fists clenched but felt the pressure of Skraal’s hand pushing him back into his seat. Skraal gave a half smile at the guardsman.

    “Get another drink lad cos Heagre will slam you into tomorrow.” Turin said noticing the disgruntled look upon the guardsman.

    The trio took their seats at the table and Heagre tucked into the feast letting meat and ale drop down his beard as he endured.

    Skraal sat akin to Carde and dropped the rabbit on the table taking a tankered of his own.

    Carde smiled looking at Corfe the Dwarf chef.

    “Rabbit stew for our breakfast aye chef.” Carde said with a smile.

    “Any sign of Snag Rods scouts out there. Or were you too busy slaying innocent rabbits.” Carde asked with a grin letting Branigan burst into a laughter that even caused Heagre Turin and Skraal to laugh.

    “None.” Turin answered.

    “But we heard noise in the leaves as we left.” Skraal added.

    “Orcs are not subtle could’ve been another rabbit.” Carde agreed.


    The rising sun of morning began to set light across the lower peak of Dramakors border to Ultakor letting the misty fog dissipate the sky becoming blue as the sun rose to its morning peak.

    Carde sat in his chair reading his poetry book deep in thought. His sword rested at the wall propped up in its blue scabbard. Carde heard the sound of commotion outside the gates of the bastion. Carde carefully placed his book marking the page in his satchel Carde peered from the window of his guest room. He saw below a group of battered Dwarfs carrying a number of injured. The Dwarfs were Ultakor Dwarfs. Suddenly Carde had the realisation that there was danger close by.


    “What happened?” Asked Captain Dorslan of the Kronasian guard.

    “Orcs in their hundreds attacked our village it wasn’tuntil we retreated to the greens of Mortakor when we saw Orcs in their thousands all across Ultakor they had allied with the warriors of Rogarth.” The battered and blood stained lead Dwarf explained.

    “Was Snag Rod with them.” Asked Skraal in a low growl.

    The Dwarf turned to the ferocious warrior.

    “It was Snag Rods force that struck our village.”

    Skraal looked up to the window were Carde peered from then to Dorslan.

    “I will ride into Ultakor to slay the green skin.” Skraal snapped.

    “We also bring word that the Orcs and the Rogarth warriors have a large force headed this way. You will not pass that force but if it helps you warrior Snag Rod leads the force of Orcs they are at least a day’s travel in our wake.” The Dwarf explained.

    Captain Dorslan welcomed the wounded Dwarfs within the Bastion and requested lord Radford be waken.


    Skraal stood with Carde and Heagre listening to Lord Radford and Captain Dorslan along with General Hogarn the Bear Hug discuss stratergies of the coming battle.

    “If the Orcs get here before we can muster reinforcements we’ll not only lose the bastion of Galgotha but once they pass the point they will be harder to dig out once they settle their invasion across Dramakor.” Hogarn said his voice stern.

    Dorslan looked to Radcliff.

    “My lord we should send a rider back to Kronas to muster reinforcements The Regent would send Sahaal himself in full force.” Dorslan explained.

    Radcliff looked to Hogarn then Skraal and Carde.

    “Carde what of Arcadius would he sit idly while an invasion crosses Dramakor.” Asked the Kronas lord.

    “I would say not. However he would send his forces into Ultakor before Dramakor.” Carde said.

    Radcliff looked up at the table three dwarfs stood behind Hogarn and another two warriors of Kronas stood at the tables side.

    “Captain Dorslan we have little time so I want you to ride with Comaragh and Sorban inform the lion of this. Hogarn i would advise you also ride back to Melgator you both have a day’s head start and we’ll hold the bastion as long as we can. Ride quick and don’t stop it will take two days to get a force back here. And I’m guessing the attack will be sometime tomorrow. We will hold the line as long as possible.” Radcliff explained.

    “Now go.” He added.

    Both Dorslan the two other Kronas warriors and Hogarn nodded and left swiftly to take word of the attack.

    Once they had gone Radcliff turned to Skraal Carde and Heagre.

    “I feel we will have to use our wits Galgotha must not fall or Dramakor may perish and Kronas will not be able to reclaim it. Prepare for battle and have every able warrior with a weapon in hand.”

    Lord Radcliff spent the remainder of the day organising the defence of the Golgotha bastion the bastion itself stood at the cavern blocking the road into Dramakor from the woods and plain land of Ultakor, to go around would force the forces to climb the mountain side.

    Lord Radcliff of Kronas had all the warriors of the Dwarfs and Kronas guards armed and prepared for the event ahead. The day soon became night and the warriors prayed that Hogarn the Bear Hug would reach Dwarf King Melgator to return with the reinforcements. The journey back to Kronas was longer and would take two days before The regent can muster his forces to Golgotha bastion.

    Carde sat in the dining hall reading his book of poetry his feet rested on the long wooden table as the Dwarf chef prepared the food for the warriors, Carde found this time of day peaceful as the sun had gone down leaving only the distant sound of the white owls singing. Carde turned the page to his book and read his favourite poem of Brothers in Arms written by a Blackthorn poet named Nathanial Motzen. The book brought peace of mind to Carde and as he sat reading he thought of his two sons Teele and Reede working on the farm with his wife Meya. He longed to see his family again but remained at Skraal’s side because of the bond of friendshiop and his oath set in blood. He knew Skraal had released him from that oath over a year ago. Carde however felt he owed Skraal after the death of the Kronasian warriors family. Skraal had taken the Warryn’s from danger at the loss of his own.

    In the year that had passed Skraal had been ordered to remain in Dramakor under Lord Radcliff once it was discovered the Ork General Snag Rod the Arsonist had joined Ulk Uzz Tooth in the invasion of Ultakor. Now it would seem Snag Rod headed for Golgotha with the intent of war.

    “You read too much Captain of Blackthorne.” Turin the red bearded Dwarf had said entering the hall.

    Carde closed the book and turned to the stump Dwarf.

    “The book has been with me wherever I have travelled Turin.” Carde replied sitting up.
  21. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld
    “Ha, So you read when fear grips you aye.” Turin laughed.

    Skraal entered the Hall after Turin with Captain Ferremore of the archers and Might Heagre.

    “Time to eat before we die I Heagre thinks.” Heagre said aloud.

    The Dwarf chef brought them their food and the group sat eating their turkey and lamb legs and breast.

    “What have you of news Captain.” Asked Turin.

    “My spotters have sighted the blasted green skins heading from Tarklin settlement. The bastards have burnt it to the ground.” Ferremore said chewing his meat steak.


    Skraal walked along the wall of the Bastion looking down at the road it was dark and yet there was silence. The guards stood at their posts waiting for the Orcs each and everyone stood ready for the coming battle. Skraal welcomed the forces of Snag Rod knowing his vengeance would end here. Lord general Sahaal had ordered him here knowing he would be able to fulfil the right of Vengeance.

    Carde came up the stone steps to stand with his friend and both men stood for a time watching the road. All was silent.

    “THERE.” Pointed Davus a Kronas Spotter on the tower above.

    Skraal and Carde both looked to his pointing finger and saw the light of burning torches.

    “MAN YOUR POSTS.” Called Captain Ferremore as he rushed up the bastion wall to glimpse himself.


    Lord Radcliff stood at the towers top looking down as the large force Of Orcs marched towards them three large ogres on chains carrying large hammers marched with the green skin warriors. At Radcliff’s side stood Captain Ferremore and Captain Carde with Skraal and Branigan the Dwarf Captain. Across the battlements the warriors of Kronas stood crossbows ready while on the floor the Dwarfs waited in a line by the large wooden doors armed with axes and swords. Heagre stood with the dwarfs.

    “There must be a thousnad warriors to what one hundred of us.” Ferremore said his face filled with shock.

    “Then we’ll hold the line until we are defeated or the Lions warriors reach us with Melgators.” Radciff said his words gritted through teeth.

    Skraal climbed down from the tower to stand with the Kronas guardsmen at the Bastions ledge looking down on the Orcs as they came to a halt. The moon was high and the stars shone brightly while the torches of the Orcs lit up their lines revealing their numbers. Ferremore had followed him down looking at the red in the moon above.

    “Blood in the moon.” He said standing by Skraal’s side.

    “A Bad Omen.” Skraal replied looking himself.

    Suddenly the Orcs began to chant the sound was disturbing and they clanged their fists on their armoured chests chanting Death over and over again.

    Skraal’s eyes widened watching the Large Orc General Snag Rod the Arsonist approach the front line. The Orc was a large brute armoured well and carried a double headed axe a scar ran down his face and his eye’s seemed to glow a blood thirsty red.

    Without warning the sky lit up in an array of yellow streaks from the Orc archers who’d now began firing their arrows high lit in flames.

    “Prepare for impact.” Called Branigan.

    The arrows flew across the sky and hit the wall of the bastion then the second wave came higher this time a group of guards fell from the ledge from impact of the flaming arrows.

    Skraal watched three arrows as they landed in the horse hay behind lighting it up .

    A third wave of arrows streaked across the sky impaling more warriors the arrows came in floods like tracers lighting their way until reaching a target.

    Some of the men began to duck down using their shields for cover once the forth wave came flooding across.

    “Stand your Bloody ground.” Called Lord Radcliff.

    Captain Ferremore took his crossbow with both hands aimed down at the first line of Orcs.

    “Crossbows FIRE.” She screamed letting his own arrow hit the first Orc between the eyes.

    The Orcs stood firm while the arrows flew into their first line dropping fifty Orcs to their deaths on impact.

    “RELOAD AND FIRE AGAIN.” Called Ferremore.

    Suddenly the Orcs who stood firm shot to life rushing at the Bastion high wall with ladders ready to climb and breach. Skraal was the first to push a wooden ladder back with two Orcs climbing up the Crossbow warriors fired down hitting more Orcs who climbed.

    Within Minutes the Orcs were all over the Wall of the Bastion climbing up with swords and crude axes in hand the guards began dropping scalding hot tar down onto the green skins burning them. Orcs fell screaming while others fell limp.

    The Ogres charged at the wall slamming their large hammers into the brick work crushing the bricks on impact. The guards felt the quake run across the ledge from the hammer’s impacting with the force of a tornado.

    The next wave of attack the Orcs charged carrying a large tree log and slammed it into the tall arched double doors of the Bastion. Skraal took aim with a crossbow and fired down killing one of the green skins. Yet another took his place more Orcs stormed the wall this time they managed to climb onto the ledge their large crude swords meeting the flesh of the Crossbow warriors. Skraal turned to see a tall green skin captain charge at him and blocked the sword with his own both men swivelled and parried until Skraal got the upper hand and cut the beasts throat with his long knife.

    The ogres began to make large cracks in the wall forcing holes almost big enough for more Orcs to climb through but with the Orcs on the Bastion ledge fighting the crossbow men they were safe from arrow attack. Ferremore was now reduced to using his sword to engage the large Orcs in sword play.

    Skraal sliced ducked sliced and stabbed with his fast movements charging into the Orcs once they climbed over. Ferremore soon found himself back to back with Skraal battling the large brute’s brutal attacks.

    Radcliff looked ahead watching more Orcs charge at the double doors.

    “They’re almost in we must repel them for as long as we...Argh.” Radcliff never finished his sentence. A flaming arrow slammed into his neck forcing both his hands around his throat he staggered back then forwards gurgling his movements becoming clumsy until he fell over the edge and into the Orcs below. Both Carde and Branigan looked over to witness the Orcs pull the lords body apart at the limbs then feast on him in a victory dance.

    Branigan and Carde looked to each other then back at the Orcs that would soon smash their way in.

    Skraal and Ferremore had witnessed Lord Radcliff’s death from the flaming arrow and watched more arrows fly over their heads and into the court yard killing five Dwarfs waiting for the doors to open.

    Carde dashed down his sword in hand towards the walls ledge and slammed the blade fast and hard into an Orc while Branigan followed him swinging his axe left to right killing another Orc.

    “Ferremore command falls to you now.” Branigan called. Dodging a blade that flew past his bearded face. Carde slammed his sword into the attack then kicked the limp body into the court yard.
    The Orcs still climbed up the wall now they began to overwhelm the guards taking more ground on the Bastion.

    Ferremore and Skraal backed up to the tower with the blond bearded Dwarf Branigan and Carde.

    “We’ve lost the wall.” Ferremore said as the four backed onto the steps of the tower.

    “I will make my final stand at the tower roof.” Branigan said leaving the three to return to his place.

    The sound of a large crash of stone rocked the side of the tower once the ogres had smashed a hole for the Orcs to charge through. Wasting no time a group of Dwarfs intercepted the Orcs attempting to gain entry fighting a bloody and bitter fight.

    “We need to get those doors open now and take the fight outside. I’m not dying like a fish trapped in a glass bowl.” Ferremore snarled.

    “Agreed.” Carde blurted back.

    The three warriors dropped down into the yard now filled with smoke from the burning hay.

    “OPEN THE DOORS.” Ferremore called aloud.

    Heagre stood flexing his hands on the long handle of his large hammer standing with Turin at his side and thirty five Dwarfs. The posse watched Skraal and Carde move up with them and another warrior of Kronas pull the bar from the doors. Once the bar was three twelve Orcs fell into the yard still hugging the tree trunk. Carde led the attack out his sword high the posse launched into the Fallen Orcs first cutting the life from their flesh and then into the five hundred waiting Orcs outside.

    Skraal leapt into a group Of Orcs heading towards the posse and sliced his sword low cutting into the beasts legs Carde followed him out stabbing an orc in the neck then elbowing another in the chest he felt his armour way heavy on his and suddenly felt his age creep up in battle. Behind him the Dwarf Brokke swung his axe into the groin of one of the Orcs his face covered in a spatter of groin blood. The brute grabbed in between his legs and fell to his knees crying. Brokke lamped his axe in the brutes face killing it. He then spat on the dead beast and found himself playing axe fights with two more. Heagre swung his mighty hammer back and forth knocking the green skins down in a bad fury.

    Orc upon Orc charged at the small group forcing them apart Carde followed Skraal with Heagre and Brokke in tow fighting ferociously killing any Orc in sight. Turin fought through a large group but soon found himself alone and meeting his demise with a large meat cleaver of a sword cutting his face into two. Blood vomiting from his mouth the small Dwarf fell in the soil dead.

    Heagre saw this in the distance and wailed his death cry charging into the Orcs his hammer crushing skull upon skull.

    Brokke Carde And Skraal charged at one of the ogres Carde landing his sword in the beasts neck while Brokke cut its ankle letting a large slit appear followed by a river of blood. Skraal turned to see Snag Rod charging towards them.

    “This bastards mine and mine alone.” He growled.

    Skraal charged head on towards Snag Rod the Orc slammed his double headed axe down at Skraal and Skraal stuck his sword into the thigh of the beast. Snag Rod back handed Skraal with a blow that knocked the kronasian warrior off his feet and across the field. Skraal rolled feeling one of his ribs crack the pain suddenly taking hold of his side. Snag Rod charge after the warrior.

    Both Brokke and Carde watched the Orcs pour into the Bastion in large numbers that would soon overwhelm the remaining Kronas Guardsmen and captain Ferremore.

    The Dwarfs had all but been slain that had charged into the Orcs Carde and could see no sign of Mighty Heagre and wondered if the warrior had fallen. He looked to the smoky sky and the dark sky was turning blue with the morning sky. The ogre behind him tried to rise but broke landed his double headed axe in the brutes’ skull killing it instantly. A large explosion erupted from within the bastion throwing bricks and stone in the air amongst Orcs and warriors of Kronas. The explosion rocked the ground for a moment Knocking Brokke onto his hands and knees.

    “I wish Orim were wid me Eh.” The small man said a grin on his face.

    “Why on earth would you wish such a fate on another.” Carde asked his face stained with blood and sut.

    “Cos ee’d love a good un fight yer me.” Brokke said standing back up to block an Orcs blade.

    Carde leant his sword into the beast eye and found a second attacking him. Both Brokke and Carde found themselves forced back into the woods slicing and dicing. Three large Orcs charged into Brokke and the four rolled down hill into the woods and from sight.

    “Brokke.” Carde bellowed.

    An Arrow punched into his thigh, he winced from the sudden pain and looked up to see his attacker. He looked down to See broke and dropped his Crossbow still loaded with an arrow. Carde staggered towards the weapon and felt the thud of a second arrow impale his shoulder.

    “Uggh.” He muttered watching the Orc load another arrow into his bow.

    Carde clenched his sword tightly trying to lift it but the pain began to wince through his body and then came the third arrow slamming into the back of his leg. Carde felt the shock grip his leg and hard just shortly before the fourth arrow pierced his back forcing him to stammer forwards and drop his sword. He winced.

    The fifth arrow pierced the back of his left shoulder blood now trickling from his wounds like a river as he tried to maintain a balance and dropped to his knees and took the crossbow in both hands he turned to face the large Orc who’d painted his face black. Carde stood again his back to a tree he tried to raise the crossbow and fire. But the Orc fired a sixth arrow that slammed hard through Carde armour and pierced his heart. Carde fell back the tree stopping his fall yet he slid down blood running from his nose and lips. The Orc walked up close a seventh arrow in his bow the wire pulled back. Carde looked up his breathing hard and slow he used the last of his strength and raised the crossbow one handed and fired the arrow into the Orc Captain the arrow flew into the green skins mouth and out of the back of his skull. The beast dropped his bow and fell back both hands clasping his neck. The beast spasmed his legs still twitching as he died painfully.

    Carde felt his body grow cold he looked to see his satchel had fallen from his waist in the attack his book half out he leaned forwards the pain from the arrows coursing through him he placed the fingers of his right hand on the cover letting his blood stain the hard backed cover what little strength remained he pulled the book to his chest a tear rolling down his eye as he pictured Meya’s face then Teele’s and Reede’s.


    Skraal rose up his blade held firm wincing from pain as he moved he felt his broken rib The large Orc general slammed his fist into Skraal’s face knocking the warrior back again he felt his cheek bone crack blood flew from his mouth. The Orc then swung his double headed axe low into Skraal’s leg. The slice pierced the metal of Skraal’s leg armour drawing blood from the large cut. Skraal staggered his sword still tight in hand. Snag Rod sliced the axe into Skraal’s chest cracking his armour leaving another fresh scar on his chest. Skraal suddenly felt tired and unable to fight yet Snag Rod back handed him again knocking more blood from his nose. Skraal stumbled back barely able to hold a stance.

    Snag Rod slammed his head into Skraal’s almost knocking the Kronasian warrior out cold. He felt the pain dash through his skull like a madman with a hammer. Skraal knew he could not take much more punishment and thought of his wife and children then found a new strength he launched forwards his sword slicing up cutting Snag Rod across the arm he dropped low to avoid the double headed axe and spun up his blade held with tow hands and ploughed the tip into Snag Rods under throat. Blood spurted from the hole down the blade. Snag Rod dropped his double headed axe holding his throat and grabbing Skraal with his left hand. He brought Skraal to his face.

    “You Da warrierr dat ben chasin Meh Ant yah.” Snag Rode said pain gripping him.

    “Names Skraal.” Skraal said seconds before taking his long knife from his waist and planting it in General Snag Rod the Arsonist’s eye and through his skull into his brain.

    “NOOOOOOOO.” The beast cried before death reaped his large green skinned body.

    Both fell to the ground Skraal rolled back looking up at the twitching body of General Snag Rod. A group of Orcs witnessed the event and stopped looking at each other. Then came the sound of Horns blowing in the distance.

    The Orcs turned and fled back into the woods as the saw the same as Skraal. Warriors of Blackthorne the sun on their backs. From the eastern fringe Skraal caught sight of Captain Dorslan charging down with Lord general Sahaal. Then the Dwarfs of Dramakor charged down from the southern road retaking the Bastion of Golgotha. The Kronasian warrior took his sword in hand sheathed it in the scabbard and staggered into the woods to aid Carde and Brokke.

    Skraal caught sight Of Carde laid against a tree holding his book stained with blood on the cover and the still twitching body of the Orc’s captain Archer.

    Skraal staggered over to Carde and dropped to his knees.

    “Carde.” He said.

    Carde slowly turned to Skraal, blood running from his nose and his lips his neck was coated in dried blood as were his hands one of which clenched his book tightly.

    “Did we do it. Did we hold the line.” Carde asked his words nothing more than a whisper.

    Skraal smiled slightly looking into Carde’s eyes.

    “We did and even Blackthorne came.”

    “I thought I heard the horns.” Carde coughed and a spatter of blood flew from his mouth to his chest.

    “Is the Right of vengeance fulfilled is Uugh S snag r rod d dead.” Carde asked wincing as another cough took hold followed by more blood.

    Skraal looked into Cardes dreary eyes and could see death was reaping his long time friend. Skraal could not lie to him he knew Carde knew he hadn’t long. A tear rolled down Skraal’s eye.

    “My boys. Oh Meya.” Carde coughed again this time more blood dribbled down his lips and onto his chin.

    Carde slowly moved his hand and passed the book to Skraal.

    “When the time is right give the book to Teele. He will benefit the book best. Ugh.”

    Skraal took the book and placed it on the ground at his side he took Carde’s hand in a clasp of his own.

    “It’s been an Honour. “ Carde groaned.

    “Thank you my dear friend.” Skraal said tears rolling from his eyes as he watched Carde grow weaker.

    “Do me one last favour Skraal. Take me home please.” Carde said his voice trailed off into an almost silent whisper.

    “I Promise.” Skraal said.

    Cardes hand fell limp in Skraal’s grasp and he let the warriors hand go placing it on his chest. Skraal took out his dagger and began singing an old warriors of Kronas song the song was for Valhala to know of Carde Warryn as Skraal sang he rocked back and forth cutting his long hair off with his long knife.

    Skraal stopped his chant and staggered to his feet. He took hold of Carde’s limp body and picked him up with both arms and walked through the woods.

    Brokke staggered from behind some of the trees his hands both bloodied and his axe tight in a grip.

    Skraal emerged from the woods staggering and limping Carde in both arms blood leaked from Skraal’s own wounds with each of his movements. He saw Mighty Heagre watching him holding his long handled hammer and captain Ferremore at the Bastion’s open gate his face covered in black sut Branigan stood at the captains side also covered in sut. The dead lay scattered across the ground some of the dead Orc’s still twitched. The soldiers of Blackthorne were the first to arrive at the bastion of Golgotha.

    Skraal staggered limping past them holding Carde Warryn tightly a tear streaking from his eye he was going to miss Carde Warryn.

    “Skraal were you going.” Captain Ferremore called.

    “Skraal stopped and looked at the captain of the Kronas.

    “I am taking my friend home.” Skraal replied, and turned to walk, each step a limp.
    1 person likes this.
  22. Raven

    Raven Banned

    Oct 14, 2006
    Likes Received:
    The NetherWorld
    Third Earth
    The Dark One


    The sky was the colour of dark pastels clouds of grey mixed with clouds of dark red and a purple haze, the moon would occasionally appear form behind the clouds. The sound of thunder crackled across the tall mountain top followed by the flash of lightening lighting up the tall castle that stood firm built from the mountain peak itself. The wind that rage across the stone walls echoed inside the dark empty hallways of the castle itself outside was cold and loud from the clang of the wind. Open windows banged back and forth as shutters creaked from the whistle of the gales.

    High Lord of the light stood alone in his chambers shrouded in darkness except for a few candles in the corner that burned away. A sudden flash of lightening covering a white blanket across the room and then leaving the darkness as it vanished would come every few minutes following the crackles of thunder raging across the sky.

    Zoreth stood deep in thought looking from the diamond leaded windows out at the sky counting flashes.
    Another crack of thunder boomed high only this time louder, followed by a white blanket of flash light from the streaking lightening. The light vanished leaving Zoreth stood in the darkness. From the corner of his eye he caught the candles flicker and felt a presence he had not felt in over five thousand years.

    “I know your there.” He said turning to face the red robed figure stood in the corner hold a wooden staff with a stone long since forgotten for the head.

    “So Zoreth the time has come.” The man said stepping from the corner.

    Zoreth turned to face him looking into the man’s eyes. The stranger stood firm his fingers clenched around the staff his robes were the colour of dark red and drooped to his feet. His face was pale and his long brown hair dropped past his shoulder’s neatly.

    “I have not heard your voice in over five thousand years.” Zoreth said walking to his cabinet.

    The room was covered in shelves of books some older than Zoreth himself and others just merely covered in spider webs. The cabinet was made of old oak wood and held a series of liquored bottles The smell of cedar wood fragranced the air.

    Zoreth took a bottle and two glasses filling both with the dark liquid within. He placed them both on the oval table.

    “What brings you here?” Zoreth asked the patience all but gone from his voice as he sipped the drink from the long glass.

    “You know why I am here Zoreth.” The man said.

    A crack of thunder spread across the sky followed by another blanket of lightening lighting the room.

    The man took a sip from the glass on the table.

    “I know this you were forbidden by the council to return here last time we saw you. And you were told never to make contact again.” Zoreth said his words spoken with caution.

    “Zoreth you cannot tell me where I can and cannot go. I told you those years past this time was coming and now it has. I told you not to practice in the dark magic.” The man said.

    “You forget you place and you forget who you speak to, wizard that grows ever younger.” Zoreth’s voice spoke with challenge.

    The man placed the glass back on the oval table and clenched tighter around his staff his eyes narrowed.

    “No Zoreth you forget your place you forget who it is you speak to.” The man said, followed by a sudden drop in temperature.

    Zoreth turned sharp to face the man once more his glass now set on the table his left fist clenched tight his eyes also now narrowed.

    “Very well Merlin, you force my hand.” Zoreth’s voice boomed to life as the lightening lit the room once more his left hand covered in blue flames and raised. He opened his palm and shot the flames across towards the other. But the flames merely died before contact.

    Merlin stepped closer his staff tilted to face Zoreth.

    “You cannot harm me old fool. I am Merlin I am the one that created the order I am the one who is and always will be.”

    Suddenly Zoreth found himself flung across the room and crashed into a shelf of books dropping them from the shelves. Zoreth landed hard on his back then rose up levitating spun around and slammed into the ceiling then the floor and back into the book shelve.

    Zoreth spat blood from his lips and knelt on one knee looking up at Merlin who now stood form his eyes coloured yellow his hair moved as though the wind blew at it.

    “You are nothing old man your time is beyond overdue.” Merlin spoke his words echoed through the room.

    Zoreth stood gathering his senses and fired a bolt of lightning back towards Merlin the blast impacted on the staff but died as soon as contact was made.

    “Oh you have been practising the dark magic. Kytholas would be please.” Merlin said.

    The door opened with a slam and a sheet of lightening lit up the room as Demmicare the red stormed in a sword in hand attired in his red stained armour.

    Zoreth looked across the room to find Merlin had gone.

    “Lord Zoreth are you alright I heard commotion.” Demmicare the red said his voice soft.

    Zoreth dusted himself down as he stood.

    “I am fine Demmy it was just the lightening nothing more.” Zoreth said.
  23. Leaka

    Leaka Creative Mettle

    Dec 17, 2007
    Likes Received:
    Morpheus Part 3 The Star Pupil and Birth of Black

    Morpheus was now eleven, he had been working for the rich family for a year now. When they told him to laugh he would, when they told him to speak he would, he had become a bit of a puppet. He had never been surprised by his father's actions on his tenth birthday. And he was never surprised with the cruel behavior of the Valentine family. Morpheus wasn't sure exactly where he was taken, what realm. He only remembered the home he was born in. Morpheus couldn't forget those walls. But then again he was still stuck in a wall. Though this wall was made of brick, looked more richer and much kinder. At least to an outsider.

    “Servant boy,” Mr. Valentine said.
    He was referring to him of course, since he was the only one of the servant boys who never tried to refuse his request or defy him in any way. Morpheus saw no need and no use to. If he ran away he would be dragged back, he didn't have enough strength to fight the men in armor that surrounded this mansion. Morpheus put no effort into his job as a servant and somehow he has turned out to be the best one, even with the lacking of effort or any care about these people. Mr. Valentine was a well rounded, pudgy man, with a briskly beard. It was a curious thing to see, a man and his family living in such luxury. They even had a son. Morpheus didn't even want to understand the son's reasonings on why he thought children his own age should be servants. And Morpheus had no intention in asking about it.

    “Tonight I am having several guess over...I would like your opinion roasted duck or pork chops,” Mr. Valentine said, “Make the decision quick.”
    “Pork chops sir,” Morpheus said.
    Morpheus never liked cleaning the oven after roast duck was made, every time he went into the kitchen after roast duck was made and was forced to clean the oven he felt an overwhelming sickness come over him. It was the sauce they used, the sauce was not the most pleasant. Some exotic teriyaki, soy sauce thing they called. Whatever, Morpheus didn't like it.
    “I trust your judgment this once, since I will make you head servant...that means you server every one of my guess,” Mr. Valentine said, “Wisky you heard the boy make pork chops.”
    “Right away sir,” said the chef Wisky.
    Morpheus watched as the chef walked off, he was becoming head servant. That meant Mr. Valentine respected or what did that mean. That he was going to throw Morpheus out soon, this was his special day and then he was going to be sold. Morpheus expected everything bad to happen because everything bad did happen.

    But whatever things like thinking about what was bad thing was going to happen didn't phase Morpheus any more. He just wouldn't think about it. That's all. He went on doing his business, cleaning, dusting, and sweeping.
    It wasn't all that hard, and soon it was evening the butler's were opening whichever side of the double doors and the guess were piling. A few guess, there was a few hundred, whom all wanted some sort of business for him. “More wine,” they would say in the rudest tone. Like if he was this walking heap of garbage or something. Or they were to bothered to put on any manners. Then again Morpheus had remember and realize where he was. Morpheus watched the members on the couch and the luxury chairs all chatting and drinking more and more wine. Someone caught Morpheus's eye they didn't certainly look like the type that would be normally invited. Since he was drinking any wine, and wasn't conversing with anyone. He just sat there smiling as if he were listening to music that no one could hear. Morpheus walked over, the very first time and maybe the only time in, which he felt curiosity for something. He walked over to them, they certainly had no reflection in their eye. They were blind, Morpheus could tell.

    “Hello there,” the person said with a friendly smile.
    Morpheus just stared at them they said “hello” to him and in such a pleasant manner as well.
    “Not a talkative one are you?” they said again, “I can hear your heartbeat, it's full of pure wisdom.”
    “What are you talking about?” Morpheus asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
    “Don't hide yourself child, children should be expressing themselves...with such purity in your heart you should be doing something better for yourself,” he said.
    After the last statement Morpheus walked off because he heard someone calling “Servant boy”. Maybe the blind person had to much wine to drink, talking about heartbeats, and hiding expression. It was all a bunch of bull. A bunch of drunken bull.
    It was a pretty busy night running back and forth for every hundred person. And as quickly as they came they quickly began to dissipate. Until there was only on guest left. Mr. Valentine walked into the living room staring aghast at the guest.

    “How did you get into my party?” Mr. Valentine said.
    “Easy through the front door,” the young man said.
    “The front...they should have checked a name off of a list,” Mr. Valentine said.
    “You're acting calm and composed now Mr. Valentine, but I do not like the way your heartbeat is fluttering...it means you are thinking of something vicious and harmful to me...as you can see I'm terribly bad with my eyes,” the young man paused, “Truth is I can't see anything Mr. Valentine, it would be cruel to have one of the guards or even you hurt me, just calm yourself and your heartbeat and we all should be dandy fine.”
    “Who are you?”
    “You're not calming yourself, I do not want to answer,”
    Morpheus was tired of the situation he really didn't care either way the guest was going to be pulled out. Morpheus began his ascent upstairs.
    “Don't move Morpheus,” said the young man, “I understand your wishes, truth is you want freedom.”
    He wanted no such thing.

    “Don't deny it, Mr. Valentine I would like him to be one of my juicy life pupils,” he said.
    “I am not going to give him to you,” Mr. Valentine said.
    “Don't be foolish, how about I give you one million?”
    Morpheus knew it, just another buyer.
    “It appears your spirits have declined Morpheus,” the young man told him.

    Why was he continuing to talk to him?
    “One million you say I think...”
    “We can make a negotiation,” the young man cut him off, “As I suspected Mr. Valentine you're a greedy man.”
    The young man suddenly took out an orb out of a bag. Morpheus looked at the orb, it must be really something special if he is going to use on Mr. Valentine.
    “What are you going to do? Read my future?” Mr. Valentine scoffed.
    “Touch it Mr. Valentine, if you have a heart pure of gold your soul will not be taken in...if your soul is full of greed your soul will be taken,”
    “What foolishness is this...I'll touch your orb so you'll stop all these cheap tricks to scare me,”

    “They aren't cheap,”
    Morpheus decided to sit on the stairs and watch the fat bastard. He really wanted to know what was going to happen. Though the strange guest seemed to know the most, a face that reflected glee was shown. Mr. Valentine touched the orb, he waited for a few minutes.
    “Ha, see nothing......oh dear god..........aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.................no please.......I beg of you......”
    “No time for begging Mr. Valentine, you are the one who touched the orb knowing full well the judgment it may cause....goodbye Mr. Valentine,”
    Morpheus watched as Mr. Valentine was sucked into the orb. Morpheus felt fear, a feeling he had lost a long time ago, what was this stranger going to do to him. The stranger turned towards him.

    “No worries all pure life is sacred...so that you know you are sacred Morpheus touch the orb,” the young man said, “Go ahead do not feel fear.”
    Morpheus walked down the stairs. It wasn't exactly himself controlling his actions, but he somehow wanted to touch the orb. It was as if the orb was a magnet. Morpheus touched the orb and just like Mr. Valentine a few minutes of nothing. And suddenly a flash of all expansive knowledge, nature, nurture, wisdom, and the expansion of the stars came into his mind. It was the most wonderful feeling, but at the same time the most painful. Then it was taken away and only pain was left. Whispers in his head were the only things left.
    “You think you deserve this,”
    “Think again,

    Who are you?
    “Us, we are the stars,”
    “You do as we say and we'll give you what you want,”
    “Do as we say,”

    “No buts boy,”
    “Or else we'll show you what we showed the other man,”

    Suddenly nightmares of the world were brought in his mind like quick flashes. Quick flashes of beast he and pains he had never felt. The world was back to normal, though he was on the ground now. He stared at the stranger and the stranger only looked to his chest.
    “Grow Morpheus...grow and one day they'll show you what you want,”
    The strangers left, but the whispers and the orb never did.
  24. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
    Likes Received:
    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    Lights End Part four

    Nadala lay at rest at the foot of the prince’s bed. She had been locked in the room. No doubt Donavan was still at lights end. The prince sat by her side his fingers in her hair. He was talking to an imaginary builder about plans for a temple. Nadala felt tears in her eyes he had no understanding of what was going on. His fingers moved to her eyelids gently closing them he wiped her tears away.

    “Indeed, lord Tanner make room for the pavilions on the lakes edge.” he said then laughed. “the monks should like to see the water.” Nadala drew herself up and sighed tutting at him, she shooed his fingers away and he replaced them in an agitated manner. It was hard loving a man who was utterly bonkers. Nadala heard the door handle being pulled and sat up.

    “Come on,” she said to him. “you need to be quiet, this is important.” As the door opened he flopped his head down into her lap. She winced at the force he used. Geo didn’t have an ounce of nice in him today. A maid came in and threw clothes onto the bed.

    “Dress in your travelling clothes, you’re going on an outing today. Nadala watched as the woman left shutting the door, the lock clicked and she sighed.

    “We had better do what we‘re told.” She pushed his head from her lap and he stood up taking his clothes. Nadala was pleased that he had started to dress himself she found herself flustered when she did it. She waited for him to dress and made him turn his back while she did, she turned around to find Geo staring at her and she rolled her eyes.

    “You‘ve gotten lax on doing as I say,” she said with a grin. He stepped over to her and looked down with gentle eyes she smiled allowing him a quick kiss. Nadala took his hand and lead him out the door and into the hall. The maids were bustling around, two men stood at the end of the hall giving them rude comments about a women’s nether regions. No doubt these two had come with Donavan to the tower. They stepped towards the pair and Nadala watched as Geo’s fists tightened and his eyes darted about. Nadala put her hand out signalling to the men to stop. They paused waiting for an explanation.

    “No doubt we are prisoners to Donavan‘s will. However you need to give this man his space.” she looked Geo over and swallowed before she spoke the next words. ”his mind is vague and at times sudden movements upset him.”

    The men nodded. “We‘ll give him the space he needs. But one false move and the pair of you will suffer.”

    Nadala nodded and the men guided them to the main hall where Donavan and the obscured wizard waited for them. They were led out to the front of the tower a carriage made of solid dark wood was pulled up two anxious white horses dug their hooves into the ground their nostrils flaring.

    Donavan grabbed Geo’s hand and shoulder and tried to shove him into the carriage. Geo jerked back, their was a flash of hot rage across his face and he struck out at Donavan. Donavan dug his feet into the ground and turned, using his shoulder to drive a punch into Geo. Nadala’s heart sunk as Geo struggled against Donavan reluctant to get into the carriage. Donavan raised his fist and Nadala ran at him, she wouldn’t allow Donavan to bully Geo. He deflected her easily, her frame to weak to give decent resistance against the man. She slammed into the ground howling in pain. As she tried to get up pain surged through her arm and she slumped again.

    Donavan’s men surged forward an obese balding man put a cloth to Geo’s face and in a matter of seconds Geo was limp. His crumpled form loaded into the carriage. Nadala moved back her eyes darting as Donavan loomed over her.

    “Stupid girl,” he said with a sneer. “I heard you were a fighter. To bad your mother destroyed any chance of you becoming a true warrior. And to think Mason put a weak little maiden at the guilds head, hilarious.”

    Nadala snarled at him. “Give me my bow and lets hear you say that again.”

    “Uh, uh, uh, misbehave for uncle Donny and he‘ll have to punish you. My wayward little niece.” Donavan jerked forward his foot snapping out. Nadala howled in pain as it connected with her rib cage.

    “Enough Donavan,” the wizard shouted. “She has weak bones, look at her. You do this now and you‘ll never get her to Perisia. Our vision, it will become a fleeting dream if you do this.” The wizards voice was raised. Donavan put his foot down on the dirt and hauled Nadala up. She howled in pain as he forced her into the carriage. Nadala sat on one of the leather covered seats and slide along it until she was next to Geo.

    Donavan and the wizard stepped inside the coach and sat down. Nadala felt to coach go down a little then spring back up. Donavan’s goons were riding on the back.

    Donavan let down the burgundy velvet curtains and with that Lights end vanished from her vision. She stared at the curtains her chest heaving with pain. She could do nothing to protect herself or Geo. Her heart sunk, Perisia, would red centaury even be able to come to her aid from their. Did they know? She hung her head in frustration.

    Donavan was sneering at her, Nadala rested against Geo. He was still sleeping his breathing heavy, hot on her face.
    “Stupid girl, you‘ve the look of your father,” Donavan said. “Do you truly think you‘ll find love within this man. His ruined, in fact come to think of it so are you in a sense. Two lunatics in love,” he laughed then paused. “No, one, your love for this man is one sided he can‘t return it. He doesn‘t see you when he looks at your face, he see‘s his betrothed, you’re simply feeding his fantasy world.”

    Nadala closed her eyes tears leaked out from beneath her closed eye lids.

    “Don‘t cry my little niece, the prophesy says wondrous things are in store for you. To bad I can‘t let you follow them through, I need you for myself. What you‘re going to attempt for us will drain you anyway, suck every last ounce of energy away from you. Little bag of bones like you shouldn‘t be able to move around like you do. It‘s not the food that supplements you most of all, it’s the power.” Donavan was grinning.

    Nadala wasn’t going to let him get at her she turned her head into Geo’s shoulder and hid her face from her uncle.

    All the upset and the aching in her throat to mourn made her so tired. She closed her eyelids drowsy and concentrated on the rocking motion of the carriage. Before long she drifted into sleep.

    The carriage ride took a week in total. Nadala was pleased that it did. By now Red centaury would know of what had happened and no doubt would be tracking them. Mason was a superb tracker, he had taught Nadala well. When camps were set up and Nadala was unbound to bath or relieve herself she, she would leave signs. Broken branches and scuffed earth was the best way. Once she had even managed to tear her cloak on gnarled rocks leaving the cloth wedged between them. It was harder to leave signs on the road, she risked being caught doing so.

    By midday on the following week they had reached a small port in a quiet fishing town. When Nadala got out of the coach, she looked back at the town. Small houses and huts spaced apart by good distances. Sand formed the roads and small shrubs dotted the village, there was only one tree in the whole town. It’s scraggly branches shaded the town hall. Nadala held Geo’s hand, the man was shuddering his eyes wide with dismay.

    “Seems my dear step brother doesn‘t want to go home,” Donavan mocked. Nadala stared in shock. Step brother? Nadala had never known that, was that why he was taking him to Perisia with him. Was that why the obscured wizard kept him at Lights end? She frowned, her gaze drifting to Geo who was now sweating.

    “Shh, Geo I‘m here,” Nadala soothed him. The man swallowed and let Nadala guide him towards the pier. A large ship with white sails was waiting at the end. The crew had a devious look to them. Their eyes locked onto Nadala’s body the moment she boarded the ship. Nadala’s skin crawled as they watched her, she jumped as Donavan put a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes darted to Geo he was sneering at Donavan like a cat ready to pounce he watched his jade eyes glinting.

    “Don‘t worry princess you‘ll spend the trip before deck in a room. If you even think of leaving that room these men will eat you alive.” Donavan gave her a grin that made her feel sick she understood his meaning. Nadala and Geo were lead into a small room that consisted of a small bump a wash stand and chamber pot. Nadala cringed she’d go mad being trapped in this room. The door was shut in her face and she sat down and put her head in her hands.
    1 person likes this.
  25. Gloom Kitty

    Gloom Kitty Banned

    Jan 5, 2008
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    in a little cage in the bowls of Cephalid
    Lights End Part five ​

    The ship had docked, yet Nadala didn’t feel the joy she thought she would. Geo had slipped into a state over the weeks it had taken to get to Perisia. His eyes were sunken, black rings circled beneath his eyes from a lack of sleep and he had stopped talking. Nadala couldn’t touch or sooth him with out being at risk of a beating from him. It was harder for her to get away with her broken arm and ribs. She sat alone in the corner of the room. Her will had faded and a strange darkness touched at her. The dark anger protected her from her episodes and she found they came less and less.

    Donavan entered the room and Nadala lifted her head and let it drop. She could hear Donavan walk towards her and she clenched her teeth and fists. The bastard had ruined everything. How dare he drag her here, what was the gutless bastard planning? and why? Why had she simply allowed the events to take place with no argument?

    He grabbed Nadala’s hand and she let him pull her up. She staggered a little. She had been in the same position for most of the day. As he tightened his grip and pulled her closer she shoved him back and he slapped her in the face.

    “No games girl, you‘re out numbered here.”

    Nadala let Donavan drag her through the claustrophobic wooden halls of the ship and up onto the deck.

    The sun made her eyes ache and she squinted shielding them with a hand upon her forehead. A flash of colour from the land caught her eye and she slowly took her hand down and stared at the shore her eyes wide. Sails had been put up to shade the land. Held up by wood bleached by the salt of the sea. The vivid colours were set off with gold insignia painted on the sails. People moved back and forth dressed in extravagant attire. Upon the pier blow a group had gathered to watch a brawl. Two men with glinting gold daggers moved like dancers upon the pier. Metal hit metal with a chiming sound and the group cheered as a quick swipe drew the first blood. Coloured tents stretched as far as the eye could see. A city of tents and crude sod huts.

    “This is Perisia?” Nadala asked.

    “No,” Donavan replied “this is Mediesa cove, what you see before you is the thief city of Dal-Muh.”

    Nadala’s eyes widened in shock a city of thieves. Her heart pounded in her chest. Their would be no escaping from here.

    “Dal-Muh was once a city of Perisia however many years ago pirates of Mediesa cove overran the city and now this is a place of no rules. The people here have the common sense to follow one person. Other then that they are welcome to take, rape and murder whoever they please. So if you want to stay out of peril I suggest you stay very close to uncle Donny.”

    Nadala rolled her eyes at Donavan’s last words. Uncle Donny where did the jerk get off?

    Nadala followed Donavan off the ship. He had let go of her arm and she stayed close, preferring to suffer Donavan then to be attacked by any of the people here. People stopped to greet Donavan along the pier, shaking hands and exchanging brief pleasantries. Each time Donavan introduced Nadala and warned of what would happen if any were to touch her. Reminding the men and women that he was of the queens favour. Nadala looked back to see if Geo had been brought along by the goons. Neither they or Geo were present.

    The fight from before was over and the men had disappeared from the scene leaving the body of one of the fighters to go bad in the sun. The heat was dry and arid. Nadala’s gaze drew across the vividly coloured city once again and she smiled thinking how ironic it was that something so beautiful could hold such ugly hearted people. The wizard stepped up beside Donavan and Nadala glared at the man. He seemed to draw back a little and Donavan gave an amused smile.

    “The only time this girl is any danger is when she holds a bow. Which reminds me,” Donavan pressed the hilt of a dagger into her hand. “this is your protection, you use it only for that, if you wield it against me just remember what the recoil might be if I‘m not around.”

    Nadala swallowed at his words and stopped tucking the dagger into her boot.

    A procession of colourful people drew up besides the pier, a carriage followed after them. A woman stepped down from the carriage. Her long blonde hair blown by the wind. She walked the pier with two men flanking her.

    “Queen Isabelle,” Donavan bowed low to the woman taking her hand he kissed the large signet ring on it.

    “Hail Donavan,” Isabelle replied. She let her hand slip from his grip and moved to Nadala looking her up and down. “This is the girl from the dire prophesy?” she asked.

    Donavan nodded, “this is my niece Nadala Celeste. She is the vessel we were seeking.”

    “This darling waif? There‘s hardly anything of her. I expected her to have a bigger presence,” Queen Isabelle frowned.

    Donavan grinned, “don‘t take the looks of her into account. The girl can wield a bow better then any man I‘ve ever seen. Her eyesight is keen and she can have a mean temper at times. The obscured wizard says she oozes raw power.” Donavan gestured towards the wizard who nodded his head.

    “It‘s true the woman has more power then any vessel I‘ve met before.”

    “What of her heightened sensations?” Queen Isabelle asked.

    “An emotion reader, due to her level of power the emotions she senses are strong and can disable her.”

    Isabelle frowned and Nadala could tell she didn’t like the idea of someone with her skill around. “To bad she‘s not an future reader I would have found that entertaining. Come,” Isabelle walked them back to the carriage.

    “What of the mad prince?” Queen Isabelle asked once they were seated in the carriage. “I would like to see Geo, before we get to business.”

    “You still hold feelings for your betrothed?” Donavan teased.

    Nadala held her breath shocked this woman was the one? Nadala looked nothing like her. The women’s eyes were grey like storm clouds. She was Athletically built, not deathly slender like Nadala. Her skin had a healthy tanned glow. Nadala and Isabelle were complete opposites. How could Geo believe Nadala was Isabelle. Nadala shook her head and listened carefully. As the two spoke. Donavan would give Nadala a smug look here and there but did not mention Nadala’s close relationship to Geo.

    From what Nadala understood the plan to bring Geo down, involved Isabelle becoming betrothed. She posed as a noble’s daughter and Geo soon fell for her, with her stunning looks and strong will. Once within the castle as the princess Isabelle had fed him with a poisonous plant, which had eventually sent him mad. Isabelle had then launched an attack from within the palace.

    “You‘re father was the one who brought my siege to it‘s knees and sent us fleeing for our lives.” Isabelle said. “Mind you several years later, I myself went to him and struck him between the shoulders with a blade, vengeance paid.”

    Nadala clenched her fists so this woman was responsible. She would bide her time and make her pay. The carriage moved across the thief city and finally drew up at a stone structure with red flags sailing above it. Men lounged around in the heat outside sitting on stone steps and beneath thick palms. Isabelle grinned at Nadala, “this is my home, those men are part of my harem.”

    Nadala frowned a woman with a harem. Her face twisted in disgust and both Isabelle and Donavan laughed at her. The wizard looked twice as disgusted as Nadala.

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