Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
The Living Chronicle
As the lives of the peoples of our world unfold, so shall the epic of their fates be told here.
As the lives of the peoples of our world unfold, so shall the epic of their fates be told here.
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The Living Chronicle
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Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
Chapter 1 - A Call To Arms
The lands and people of Hybrid face peril in the wake of prophecies taking shape. The taint of madness stemming from those wicked verses already plagues a once fair realm. Everywhere, the minds of all races are consumed with spite, hatred, and wickedness. The old ways are forgotten, and the old lore is all but lost. Many claim that the gods have forgotten them, and care not for their suffering on earth.
But in the hidden places of the immortals on high, the Chaotic God, a most ancient of deities, did see the suffering of the remnant of they who remembered the old ways. Knowing that the faithful would be powerless to stand against the work of the prophecies that threatened them, he raised demigoddesses and demigods from their slumber. Seers they were, guardians of the faithful in times long ago. Now they will bear this task once again.
“Go forth,” he charged them. “Take this remnant of a remnant who remain faithful to the old ways, free of the taint of madness, and preserve them. Guard them from the fell work of the prophecy set against them. Drink at the table of Bloodgod, and dance the ways of death with the immortal Vampire Lords. Bring light to knights of Virtue or the forgotten songs to the elves. Forge the world anew which they live in, and never let them forget that the Gods have not abandoned them.” And so they set forth in their tasks.
The Seers now seek out they who are great among men or elves or orcs. Now is the time for warriors of battles past to take up the sword and the shield once again.
Yet as one Seer stood in council with a vampire prince high atop a tower, she was troubled. Council had also been held with the Lord Zirith of the Undead, and though some remained, most of their ranks had not been seen in many days. The vampire, Redguard, with whom she now stood spoke a similar tale. Immortality could make life seem fruitless at even the best of times for a vampire, but of late many had simply lost all will to exist and drifted away. Even the orcs were more scarcely seen these days. Everywhere it was the same story: a realm gripped in degeneration and self-destruction, peaceful farmers and brave warriors alike simply loosing the will to live.
Most troubling of these cases was undoubtedly The Order, a sect of noble knights who had followed the old code of chivalry. Of them, they had simply vanished without a trace. Yes, the Seer was troubled.
“Where hath gone the knights of Order?” asked the Seer of the vampire.
“You must know I bear no great love of their kind, but they hath many left this realm. For the madness upon the lands is great, and they believed the gods have abandoned them.”
“We can not suffer their loss, this you know,” said the Seer. “For ever have the virtues been heralded by knights of great bravery. Without their presence to form balance, both your people and all others of the old faith shall fall to the madness, and the prophesy shall rend you. What has happened to their Captains, and leaders?”
Gravely did the vampire prince reply. “ Of Halorian, he hath taken an assembly of knights to some other realm in hopes that they might rebuild themselves, for they have lost all hope here. Hector is still seen at some times, though his heart is weighed by the state of his people. Once, another great knight by the name of Nathaniel did oft lead The Order to victory, but he was greatly wounded in battle and hath not been seen since. It is possible that the Lord Nathaniel is recovered, though I would not know.”
The Seer’s silence painted the moments after the vampire’s last words faded, as she pondered the worth of these things. At last, she spoke again. “I must have them. We must draw them back to rally with our cause. I will send messengers to the leaders of The Order, in hopes they shall respond. We will keep the faith, my dear vampire. We can do no less. They must be warned, all must be warned…”
“My lady,” mused the vampire Redguard, “ Surely you must realize that this would be a great deal more easily done if you would just tell me what it was we faced. What prophecy are we threatened by?”
“I have told you, this I cannot reveal to you. Laws that you could never understand bind me. Yet I will help as best I can. You understand your charges. Gather as many of the vampires as you can, and prepare them. Zirith must do the same. In the meantime, I will seek out the others. We simply cannot prepare for war with no army to march!”
Without waiting for his response, the Seer turned and exited the council chambers in a state of agitation. Yes, things simply were not going well.
Chapter 1 - A Call To Arms
The lands and people of Hybrid face peril in the wake of prophecies taking shape. The taint of madness stemming from those wicked verses already plagues a once fair realm. Everywhere, the minds of all races are consumed with spite, hatred, and wickedness. The old ways are forgotten, and the old lore is all but lost. Many claim that the gods have forgotten them, and care not for their suffering on earth.
But in the hidden places of the immortals on high, the Chaotic God, a most ancient of deities, did see the suffering of the remnant of they who remembered the old ways. Knowing that the faithful would be powerless to stand against the work of the prophecies that threatened them, he raised demigoddesses and demigods from their slumber. Seers they were, guardians of the faithful in times long ago. Now they will bear this task once again.
“Go forth,” he charged them. “Take this remnant of a remnant who remain faithful to the old ways, free of the taint of madness, and preserve them. Guard them from the fell work of the prophecy set against them. Drink at the table of Bloodgod, and dance the ways of death with the immortal Vampire Lords. Bring light to knights of Virtue or the forgotten songs to the elves. Forge the world anew which they live in, and never let them forget that the Gods have not abandoned them.” And so they set forth in their tasks.
The Seers now seek out they who are great among men or elves or orcs. Now is the time for warriors of battles past to take up the sword and the shield once again.
Yet as one Seer stood in council with a vampire prince high atop a tower, she was troubled. Council had also been held with the Lord Zirith of the Undead, and though some remained, most of their ranks had not been seen in many days. The vampire, Redguard, with whom she now stood spoke a similar tale. Immortality could make life seem fruitless at even the best of times for a vampire, but of late many had simply lost all will to exist and drifted away. Even the orcs were more scarcely seen these days. Everywhere it was the same story: a realm gripped in degeneration and self-destruction, peaceful farmers and brave warriors alike simply loosing the will to live.
Most troubling of these cases was undoubtedly The Order, a sect of noble knights who had followed the old code of chivalry. Of them, they had simply vanished without a trace. Yes, the Seer was troubled.
“Where hath gone the knights of Order?” asked the Seer of the vampire.
“You must know I bear no great love of their kind, but they hath many left this realm. For the madness upon the lands is great, and they believed the gods have abandoned them.”
“We can not suffer their loss, this you know,” said the Seer. “For ever have the virtues been heralded by knights of great bravery. Without their presence to form balance, both your people and all others of the old faith shall fall to the madness, and the prophesy shall rend you. What has happened to their Captains, and leaders?”
Gravely did the vampire prince reply. “ Of Halorian, he hath taken an assembly of knights to some other realm in hopes that they might rebuild themselves, for they have lost all hope here. Hector is still seen at some times, though his heart is weighed by the state of his people. Once, another great knight by the name of Nathaniel did oft lead The Order to victory, but he was greatly wounded in battle and hath not been seen since. It is possible that the Lord Nathaniel is recovered, though I would not know.”
The Seer’s silence painted the moments after the vampire’s last words faded, as she pondered the worth of these things. At last, she spoke again. “I must have them. We must draw them back to rally with our cause. I will send messengers to the leaders of The Order, in hopes they shall respond. We will keep the faith, my dear vampire. We can do no less. They must be warned, all must be warned…”
“My lady,” mused the vampire Redguard, “ Surely you must realize that this would be a great deal more easily done if you would just tell me what it was we faced. What prophecy are we threatened by?”
“I have told you, this I cannot reveal to you. Laws that you could never understand bind me. Yet I will help as best I can. You understand your charges. Gather as many of the vampires as you can, and prepare them. Zirith must do the same. In the meantime, I will seek out the others. We simply cannot prepare for war with no army to march!”
Without waiting for his response, the Seer turned and exited the council chambers in a state of agitation. Yes, things simply were not going well.
Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
Chapter 2 – An Unexpected Treasure and a Less Expected Meeting
“No, no, no… This won’t do either.”
Argyle sighed as he carefully set the battered book aside, and looked to the huddled old man who stood gingerly brushing dust off another volume. Maintaining fame as a champion storyteller amongst bards required ever adding to your collection of enchanting tales. Fortunately for this bard, Darius the Scribe was never short of those. Tucked away in this old hermit’s shelves were endless volumes of history and lore, much of which he suspected had been all but lost to the rest of the world. Sometimes Argyle wondered where the old man managed to dig up such ancient recordings, but he never complained about the ability to find an engaging epic unsung by any bard for a hundred years or more.
“Patience, patience!” Slightly shaking hands set the book down in front of Argyle, the leather bound covers cracking with age. “This one! This one here I think you will find to your liking! There are very few, few indeed who know the makings of this piece of history. Straight from the mouth of the gods it was said. If anyone has ever heard this story, I’ll be a mongbat’s uncle!”
”Well, I’m afraid I must say old man, you surely look like one, and that’s almost offensive to the mongbat.” Not fooled in the least by the hermits attempt to feign indignation, Argyle skimmed over the faded text. The minstrel could hardly stop his eyes from widening as he delved further into the page. “You weren’t lying in the least old man, I think this one right here is it! Why, those folks down in Tenebrae won’t know what hit them when I recite this in the high chant!”
“Yes, yes,” replied Darius, bobbing his head up and down agreeably. “Plenty more where that came from you know, but we’ll save them for another time
******
As they rose from the stone table, the Seer stepped forth to bid farewell to the men before her. “Lord Hector,” she addressed the purple cloaked knight before her, ”I am most pleased that we were able to finally contact you. I hope that with this step in place, we might see the Order once again begin gathering the numbers they once had. And of course, Lord Anaphaxeton, your presence here has been most welcome also. With the Celestial Guard to resume their duties as well, I hope that the citizens of Tenebrae will once again know some respite from the ill troubles which have plagued them. With contact having been established with KurGrat, GlubGlub, and Lugdush of the Bloodclan Orcs in addition to the other leaders, I think things are well under way. Oh don’t give me that look, gentlemen. Orcs have a place in this world too you know.”
Smiling each of them, the two iron clad men bowed and took their leave. Relaxing into her chair, the Seer began pondering what her next steps would be. The god, Chaos, had given her the task of revitalizing the land of Tenebrae, and returning hope to the peoples that inhabited that land. Also included in this task were the Orcs, at Chaos’s command. Something about a pact made with Bloodgod long ago. She did not question it. They may not have to necessarily like each other, but establishing this council of leaders was the first step to protecting their lands from the outside world. Tenebrae, and the lands claimed by the guilds she had been summoning were special, protected by old magic. While the world around them seemed to rot away, theirs had always been a haven, a glimpse of the older days. Yet now even they were beginning to feel the effects of this taint seeming to haunt the rest of the world.
Though she probably could have continued thinking for the rest of the afternoon, the Seer’s ponderings were cut short at the echo of footfalls entering the chamber. Looking up, it was a man with sun-darkened skin, clad in shadow, with searching eyes that had interrupted her musing. The Seer rose and bowed to the Elder God.
“My Lord Mark. How may I assist you?”
“We need to talk. About your plans.”
“My plans?”
“Yes, Seer. It appears that you overstep your bounds.” Walking over to one of the vacant chairs, Mark reclined into a chair and continued talking. “What was it you told the vampire, Mia? You told him there were things you could not reveal to him, as it would upset certain balances which maintain our world. And yet here you are, ready to do just that by telling anyone who will listen that a prophecy is unfolding, and that the chaos in the world today is a direct spawn of that prophecy. How much more revealing can you be?”
“But my Lord! I did not tell them the prophecy, only that the world was entering a time of strife and that they must be prepared!”
Flattening his voice, Mark replied, “You wouldn’t tell them the prophecy, no. But you were going to guide them through every step of it anyways, weren’t you? Even though it has the same effect, even though it be on mortal ground. Fighting their battles, as a deity! Do you realize the implications of that? Our whole world exists on the concept that we leave its peoples to decide their own fate. Otherwise, we would become just like the world we abandoned if we did not.”
“But Lord Mark! What about the prophecy? What about the wickedness that is consuming whole races, making them bent on destroying both each other and themselves out of hate? That is not born of man; that is an evil as old as this world, a part of this world at its birth.”
“Don’t lecture me on the prophecies, girl. I was there when they were written, remember? I understand their implications and the effects they are having on the lands full well. Which is why Chaos summoned you, and why you are justified in using your talents to unify the people. However, let me stress that you cannot fight their battles for them! Nor can you lay your knowledge as a Seer completely at their feet. If you try to navigate a prophecy for them, you inevitably change whatever outcome they could have had at overcoming it. You simply cannot meddle in such things! If there is evil as old as this world there is also good as old, and that is why the world must balance itself. If you ever need a reminder of what happens when a god tries to dictate the outcome of humanity, think of the fallen Robin. Use your talents, find a way. But you cannot enter their world and walk it as one of them. Remember that.”
Unable to argue, the Seer Mia merely nodded her head in acceptance.
Chapter 2 – An Unexpected Treasure and a Less Expected Meeting
“No, no, no… This won’t do either.”
Argyle sighed as he carefully set the battered book aside, and looked to the huddled old man who stood gingerly brushing dust off another volume. Maintaining fame as a champion storyteller amongst bards required ever adding to your collection of enchanting tales. Fortunately for this bard, Darius the Scribe was never short of those. Tucked away in this old hermit’s shelves were endless volumes of history and lore, much of which he suspected had been all but lost to the rest of the world. Sometimes Argyle wondered where the old man managed to dig up such ancient recordings, but he never complained about the ability to find an engaging epic unsung by any bard for a hundred years or more.
“Patience, patience!” Slightly shaking hands set the book down in front of Argyle, the leather bound covers cracking with age. “This one! This one here I think you will find to your liking! There are very few, few indeed who know the makings of this piece of history. Straight from the mouth of the gods it was said. If anyone has ever heard this story, I’ll be a mongbat’s uncle!”
”Well, I’m afraid I must say old man, you surely look like one, and that’s almost offensive to the mongbat.” Not fooled in the least by the hermits attempt to feign indignation, Argyle skimmed over the faded text. The minstrel could hardly stop his eyes from widening as he delved further into the page. “You weren’t lying in the least old man, I think this one right here is it! Why, those folks down in Tenebrae won’t know what hit them when I recite this in the high chant!”
“Yes, yes,” replied Darius, bobbing his head up and down agreeably. “Plenty more where that came from you know, but we’ll save them for another time
******
As they rose from the stone table, the Seer stepped forth to bid farewell to the men before her. “Lord Hector,” she addressed the purple cloaked knight before her, ”I am most pleased that we were able to finally contact you. I hope that with this step in place, we might see the Order once again begin gathering the numbers they once had. And of course, Lord Anaphaxeton, your presence here has been most welcome also. With the Celestial Guard to resume their duties as well, I hope that the citizens of Tenebrae will once again know some respite from the ill troubles which have plagued them. With contact having been established with KurGrat, GlubGlub, and Lugdush of the Bloodclan Orcs in addition to the other leaders, I think things are well under way. Oh don’t give me that look, gentlemen. Orcs have a place in this world too you know.”
Smiling each of them, the two iron clad men bowed and took their leave. Relaxing into her chair, the Seer began pondering what her next steps would be. The god, Chaos, had given her the task of revitalizing the land of Tenebrae, and returning hope to the peoples that inhabited that land. Also included in this task were the Orcs, at Chaos’s command. Something about a pact made with Bloodgod long ago. She did not question it. They may not have to necessarily like each other, but establishing this council of leaders was the first step to protecting their lands from the outside world. Tenebrae, and the lands claimed by the guilds she had been summoning were special, protected by old magic. While the world around them seemed to rot away, theirs had always been a haven, a glimpse of the older days. Yet now even they were beginning to feel the effects of this taint seeming to haunt the rest of the world.
Though she probably could have continued thinking for the rest of the afternoon, the Seer’s ponderings were cut short at the echo of footfalls entering the chamber. Looking up, it was a man with sun-darkened skin, clad in shadow, with searching eyes that had interrupted her musing. The Seer rose and bowed to the Elder God.
“My Lord Mark. How may I assist you?”
“We need to talk. About your plans.”
“My plans?”
“Yes, Seer. It appears that you overstep your bounds.” Walking over to one of the vacant chairs, Mark reclined into a chair and continued talking. “What was it you told the vampire, Mia? You told him there were things you could not reveal to him, as it would upset certain balances which maintain our world. And yet here you are, ready to do just that by telling anyone who will listen that a prophecy is unfolding, and that the chaos in the world today is a direct spawn of that prophecy. How much more revealing can you be?”
“But my Lord! I did not tell them the prophecy, only that the world was entering a time of strife and that they must be prepared!”
Flattening his voice, Mark replied, “You wouldn’t tell them the prophecy, no. But you were going to guide them through every step of it anyways, weren’t you? Even though it has the same effect, even though it be on mortal ground. Fighting their battles, as a deity! Do you realize the implications of that? Our whole world exists on the concept that we leave its peoples to decide their own fate. Otherwise, we would become just like the world we abandoned if we did not.”
“But Lord Mark! What about the prophecy? What about the wickedness that is consuming whole races, making them bent on destroying both each other and themselves out of hate? That is not born of man; that is an evil as old as this world, a part of this world at its birth.”
“Don’t lecture me on the prophecies, girl. I was there when they were written, remember? I understand their implications and the effects they are having on the lands full well. Which is why Chaos summoned you, and why you are justified in using your talents to unify the people. However, let me stress that you cannot fight their battles for them! Nor can you lay your knowledge as a Seer completely at their feet. If you try to navigate a prophecy for them, you inevitably change whatever outcome they could have had at overcoming it. You simply cannot meddle in such things! If there is evil as old as this world there is also good as old, and that is why the world must balance itself. If you ever need a reminder of what happens when a god tries to dictate the outcome of humanity, think of the fallen Robin. Use your talents, find a way. But you cannot enter their world and walk it as one of them. Remember that.”
Unable to argue, the Seer Mia merely nodded her head in acceptance.
Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
Chapter 3 – The Tenebrae Fair
“You there! Where do you think you’re going with those boards? Those are for the stage, not the chicken pen you oaf!” Joseph sighed and shook his head as the hired hand scrambled around to the right direction with his load of wood. Though not the most elaborate of work, he was sure that nobody would notice he skimped by hiring Master Carpenters instead of Grandmaster for the stage and pens. Looking up, he noticed a rather stiff looking guard in plate armor walking towards him. “Greetings, my lord captain. How goes the hunt?”
“The boars have all been captured, Sir. It was no easy task. Jacob took a fireball straight to the chest. I don’t think he will be able to assist in guard duty during the fair tomorrow.”
“I’d imagine not. Those foul beasts could make a grown man run. Why people get such a thrill out of hunting them is beyond me, but the event is always a favorite. Carry on then Captain.”
Nodding in answer to the captain’s stiff salute, Joseph turned to scan the fair grounds once more. Hired for his experience in organizing public events, the City of Tenebrae had appointed him Fair Coordinator. Evaluating the progress of the construction, he decided it would be cutting it close to finish everything in time.
The gods knew that the city needed something for morale. With the bandit raids coming ever more frequently and tensions becoming worse between vampires and humans, undead and elves, why a man could be murdered in his own bed it seemed! Joseph had a thing or two to say about the city officials allowing orcs to attend, but that wasn’t his decision to make. If the officials wanted grunting smelling orcs offending the ladies, well that was just their business then. At least they’d had the sense to agree to the cost of the extra guards he wanted to hire. With that many guards, any would be troublemakers would find themselves at the unpleasant end of a spear before they could so much as snap their fingers.
Joseph snapped out of his musing when the unpleasant mixture of chickens squawking manically and men yelling reached his ears. Turning around he met the sight of some 20 odd chickens flapping in every direction with the hired hands scrambling over each other to catch them.
“What in the name of all things good and holy just happened?!” he shouted at the nearest worker he could yank back by the shirt.
“Madro forgot to tie the chicken pen down to the back of the wagon, Sir! It fell off the back and broke open!”
Wordlessly, Joseph released the man and groaned before turning for the tavern. He was going to need more than one glass of ale if he was to have the fortitude to finish setting up the fair grounds by tomorrow.
**********
When the time of the fair finally arrived, preparations had been finished with plenty of time to spare. The people began gathering shortly after the hour. Along with a few other humans, the Celestial Guard and The Order were the first to arrive. As they shared ale at the tables in front of the food tents, they were soon joined by a troop of Bloodclan Orcs who made straight for the cider. Even a handful of confused looking savages wandered into their midst!
The Fair would include several events. There was to be a unique form of Archery contest called a Chicken Shoot, storytelling by the famed bard, Argyle, a scavenger hunt for clues hidden across the island, and a boar hunt.
The scavenger hunt was fun, but unfortunately it was necessary to end it early due to the attacks of brigands. The winning team had been the odd assortment of three orcs, two humans, and a savage.
The Chicken Shoot, however, had been a complete success through and through. Chickens of varying strength were let loose in brightly colored pens, and the object of the game was to see which archer could shoot the most chickens in a moment. Not surprisingly, it was the orcs who’d taken the victory there. (The Bloodclan Orcs have always been some of the finest archers in the land when it comes to defending their fortresses.) When the orcs Johjo and Zak’Zull tied for first place with 7 chickens each, a tiebreaker match was held. Then, as if to prove even more what a fantastically close match in skill the two orcs were, they tied again during the tiebreaker. At last, they decided to determine the winner with a roll of the dice! Zak’Zull was heard to still be cursing his foul luck an hour later, with Johjo waving his victory check and shouting for good measure.
Even with all the excitement up until then, the real surprise had come when Joseph was just introducing Argyle the Bard to the crowd. No sooner than he’d invited the bard onstage to begin, than did the most curious sight appear from the forest! A centaur came strolling towards the fairgrounds just as calmly as if he belonged there!
“You there!” shouted one of the hired guards, Randall. “What’s the meaning of this? Who are you?”
“A messenger from the Seers, little man. So I’d suggest you pull that sword back before you accidentally chop your own hand off from waving it around.”
The centaur’s muscular human torso and equally muscular equine half bespoke a creature to be reckoned with. Of course, the bristling quiver of arrows strapped to his back and the longbow in his hand could tell you the same. Randall the Guard looked questioningly at his employer to see what was expected of him. Eyes nearly popping out of his head, Joseph stepped down from the stage.
“What’s the meaning of this indeed?!” sputtered Joseph. “You can’t just walk in here and disrupt our Fair! The good minstrel was just about to tell us a fine story before you appeared and created a stir!”
“As I already said, I bear a message from the Seers. And I will do nothing more than leave that message and be on my way, human. So ease your fears. I won’t hurt you. Now tell me where the best place to leave this letter will be, so that all guildmasters and citizens of importance may find it and read it. I suggest you not try my patience, for the nature of this errand is more than grave.”
And so, that was how a mysterious letter was placed upon the pedestal in the upstairs of the Tenebrae bank. Joseph did not know what upset him more, the fact that his beautiful fair had been so interrupted, or the disturbing contents of that letter. The letter itself read:
To the Peoples of Britannia:
Today is the day I shall confirm for you what has only up until now been but whispers of fell things on the wind. Each day the societies of man, orc, elf, and of any creature of shadow that walks the night seems gripped in the throes of some strange corruption. From the mightiest lord to the meekest peasant, it seems our world is bent on destroying itself, does it not? Murderers run rampant killing without rhyme or reason, and even those who do not stain their hands with blood find ways to feed off the misery of their fellow man. All honor is forgotten and hate breeds in the hearts of whole cities, threatening to devour them.
Today you learn that these things are no accident. No, it is not the work of chance that entire societies are consumed with the need to destroy each other, that the very land itself degenerates.
Some of you may ask, why should this concern me? Why should the Undead, who already walk the shadows, be concerned for the fate of mortals? Why should the proud Vampires stand in defense of the welfare of other societies, or the orcs care for the lives of humans? This I will answer you: Know that should any of you fall to the perils that have awakuna matata to this age, all shall fall. Some of you may be born of the darkness, but know that even you shall become enslaved to this power.
And now we must come to the heart of this letter. I cannot guide you in this time of strife. The prophecies have come into play, and the extent to which I may interfere is limited, for the very existence of our world is governed by powers both of good and of evil. I will continue to strive to aid you in gathering your peoples, but I may no longer intervene directly in the affairs of your world. You will have to trust in the judgment of your leaders, and in your hearts. You must discover the meaning of the legends and unravel the prophecies by your own strength, if you are to survive them.
However, I will not leave you altogether unaided against what is to come. The degeneration infesting this world will have many hidden servants. For this reason, I will send agents to guide you. They will come upon you unlooked for, and you shall know them. They will be your direction in my stead, for as lesser powers they are not bound by such laws as I am. You must trust them and follow their guidance.
I leave you with a warning: doubt not the graveness of these times. The world you have known is changing, and the outcome can only be decided in the days to come. Trust in my agents, and trust in yourselves. Go with honor.
- Lady Mia, Seer of the Realm
“Pah!” utter Argyle, his annoyance evident by the look on his face. “A joke! A prank meant to disrupt our fair! Back to the fairgrounds I say, for my story is far more interesting!” Argyle did not at all like the attention being snatched away from him just as his moment of glory was upon him. Like most bards, Argyle rather thought of himself as the most important man in the world.
“Indeed!” cried Joseph in agreement. “Let us return to the stage where we can hear a real story!” Joseph liked the disturbance even less!
After the crowd meandered back over to the stage to listen to Argyle’s tale, discussing in hushed and excited whispers as they walked the strange event which had just occurred, Joseph the Fair Coordinator stepped up to introduce the Grandmaster Bard, Argyle, for the second time.
Heading up to the stage as Joseph completed the introduction, Argyle eyed the structure warily. The thing looked as if it might have been thrown together in quite a hurry with less than the greatest amount of skill. Nonetheless, Argyle the Minstrel was never one to miss an entrance. Leaping deftly up the rickety stairs, Argyle lifted up his hat and bowed grandly to his audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, orcs and savages!” Several “Hoowahs” greeted him in response. “Today, I bring to you a special tale for a very special occasion.” Working himself into the almost melodic cadence of a bard’s story telling pose, Argyle continued. “This is a legend which long ago faded from knowledge, but today I shall return it to the light once more. It is the story of our beginnings, and the true story, mind you.”
“The tale of Sosaria is both old, and fraught with many trials. Even before the time of the Shattering, humanity has rarely known peace. For in the days past, though the lands of Origin still knew the might of gods and goddesses (both of good and evil nature), ever were there names of legend to change history as it was written. Names such as British and Blackthorn, Mondain and Minax; each claimed their conquests to be in the name of either good or evil, but each only yearned after power for themselves, power which was gained from favor of the gods.
Yet, there were others, lesser divinities, and guardians, they who watched the world shudder, and then shatter, from the exploits of those who sought power. Though their passion for Sosaria was great, the gods refuted their pleas. So ensnared were the immortals to the deceptions of those who had once been their servants, the gods and goddesses of Sosaria became blind to the slow poison which was warping the lands. Finally, the ire of these guardians became so great that they pronounced their defiance to the gods, and abandoned their fair realm. They would leave the foolish divinities to the consequences of their own folly.
Time passed, and the world changed. The gods and goddesses which had once been great powers were slowly whittled away by the warlords who had formerly been their underlings, for even they had found secrets of power and immortality. Sosaria was twisted and defiled beyond recognition, and the golden days of the past became naught but a memory.
However, the story does not end here. For when those immortal servants of the gods pronounced their rebuke that fateful day, they did not enter the Void between worlds unarmed. One deity among them left bearing the tiniest fragment of the shattered Gem of Immortality, so small you could hardly see it. But it was enough. “With this,” they said to each other, “we shall rebuild a new land at this place in the Void, a land of our visions.” As it was said, so it came to pass. A new world was woven with power they were never thought to possess, and they themselves became gods of this world. They were Ryan, Eagle, Zippy, and Chaos. And as they enslaved themselves to the task of this forging, others of their brethren who sought them out in the Void joined them. So it came that the Lords Asayre, Mark, Alkiser, and Krrios took their place in the heavens. Together the new gods remade the world in the image of what the Origin might have been, had it never been subject to the corruptions and taint which destroyed it
Of the new gods, each did not think the same as the other on how the world should be. Some thought that now, their people should always be protected from the violence of the world. Some though that the ways of Men should be left to themselves, for it is suffering and victory which makes them human. In the end, light and dark always found balance, and the new world became what you see it as today.”
As Argyle’s last words trailed off, the orcs, humans, and savages jumped to their feet to applaud. Indeed, this was a far better tale than many had heard in years.
The boar hunt which followed was a harrowing ordeal, though the loot made it more than worthwhile. Even Joseph had not quite realized the strength of those beasts!
And at last, after the last boar’s death cries had disappeared, the fairgoers lounged around the stage sharing drink, jokes, and good stories. Joseph eyed the scene in satisfaction. Granted, there had been a few hitches and an unexpected visitor, but the fair had been a success!
Thanks to Halorian, Juk'Da, and Bob for pictures.
Chapter 3 – The Tenebrae Fair
“You there! Where do you think you’re going with those boards? Those are for the stage, not the chicken pen you oaf!” Joseph sighed and shook his head as the hired hand scrambled around to the right direction with his load of wood. Though not the most elaborate of work, he was sure that nobody would notice he skimped by hiring Master Carpenters instead of Grandmaster for the stage and pens. Looking up, he noticed a rather stiff looking guard in plate armor walking towards him. “Greetings, my lord captain. How goes the hunt?”
“The boars have all been captured, Sir. It was no easy task. Jacob took a fireball straight to the chest. I don’t think he will be able to assist in guard duty during the fair tomorrow.”
“I’d imagine not. Those foul beasts could make a grown man run. Why people get such a thrill out of hunting them is beyond me, but the event is always a favorite. Carry on then Captain.”
Nodding in answer to the captain’s stiff salute, Joseph turned to scan the fair grounds once more. Hired for his experience in organizing public events, the City of Tenebrae had appointed him Fair Coordinator. Evaluating the progress of the construction, he decided it would be cutting it close to finish everything in time.
The gods knew that the city needed something for morale. With the bandit raids coming ever more frequently and tensions becoming worse between vampires and humans, undead and elves, why a man could be murdered in his own bed it seemed! Joseph had a thing or two to say about the city officials allowing orcs to attend, but that wasn’t his decision to make. If the officials wanted grunting smelling orcs offending the ladies, well that was just their business then. At least they’d had the sense to agree to the cost of the extra guards he wanted to hire. With that many guards, any would be troublemakers would find themselves at the unpleasant end of a spear before they could so much as snap their fingers.
Joseph snapped out of his musing when the unpleasant mixture of chickens squawking manically and men yelling reached his ears. Turning around he met the sight of some 20 odd chickens flapping in every direction with the hired hands scrambling over each other to catch them.
“What in the name of all things good and holy just happened?!” he shouted at the nearest worker he could yank back by the shirt.
“Madro forgot to tie the chicken pen down to the back of the wagon, Sir! It fell off the back and broke open!”
Wordlessly, Joseph released the man and groaned before turning for the tavern. He was going to need more than one glass of ale if he was to have the fortitude to finish setting up the fair grounds by tomorrow.
**********
When the time of the fair finally arrived, preparations had been finished with plenty of time to spare. The people began gathering shortly after the hour. Along with a few other humans, the Celestial Guard and The Order were the first to arrive. As they shared ale at the tables in front of the food tents, they were soon joined by a troop of Bloodclan Orcs who made straight for the cider. Even a handful of confused looking savages wandered into their midst!
The Fair would include several events. There was to be a unique form of Archery contest called a Chicken Shoot, storytelling by the famed bard, Argyle, a scavenger hunt for clues hidden across the island, and a boar hunt.
The scavenger hunt was fun, but unfortunately it was necessary to end it early due to the attacks of brigands. The winning team had been the odd assortment of three orcs, two humans, and a savage.
The Chicken Shoot, however, had been a complete success through and through. Chickens of varying strength were let loose in brightly colored pens, and the object of the game was to see which archer could shoot the most chickens in a moment. Not surprisingly, it was the orcs who’d taken the victory there. (The Bloodclan Orcs have always been some of the finest archers in the land when it comes to defending their fortresses.) When the orcs Johjo and Zak’Zull tied for first place with 7 chickens each, a tiebreaker match was held. Then, as if to prove even more what a fantastically close match in skill the two orcs were, they tied again during the tiebreaker. At last, they decided to determine the winner with a roll of the dice! Zak’Zull was heard to still be cursing his foul luck an hour later, with Johjo waving his victory check and shouting for good measure.
Even with all the excitement up until then, the real surprise had come when Joseph was just introducing Argyle the Bard to the crowd. No sooner than he’d invited the bard onstage to begin, than did the most curious sight appear from the forest! A centaur came strolling towards the fairgrounds just as calmly as if he belonged there!
“You there!” shouted one of the hired guards, Randall. “What’s the meaning of this? Who are you?”
“A messenger from the Seers, little man. So I’d suggest you pull that sword back before you accidentally chop your own hand off from waving it around.”
The centaur’s muscular human torso and equally muscular equine half bespoke a creature to be reckoned with. Of course, the bristling quiver of arrows strapped to his back and the longbow in his hand could tell you the same. Randall the Guard looked questioningly at his employer to see what was expected of him. Eyes nearly popping out of his head, Joseph stepped down from the stage.
“What’s the meaning of this indeed?!” sputtered Joseph. “You can’t just walk in here and disrupt our Fair! The good minstrel was just about to tell us a fine story before you appeared and created a stir!”
“As I already said, I bear a message from the Seers. And I will do nothing more than leave that message and be on my way, human. So ease your fears. I won’t hurt you. Now tell me where the best place to leave this letter will be, so that all guildmasters and citizens of importance may find it and read it. I suggest you not try my patience, for the nature of this errand is more than grave.”
And so, that was how a mysterious letter was placed upon the pedestal in the upstairs of the Tenebrae bank. Joseph did not know what upset him more, the fact that his beautiful fair had been so interrupted, or the disturbing contents of that letter. The letter itself read:
To the Peoples of Britannia:
Today is the day I shall confirm for you what has only up until now been but whispers of fell things on the wind. Each day the societies of man, orc, elf, and of any creature of shadow that walks the night seems gripped in the throes of some strange corruption. From the mightiest lord to the meekest peasant, it seems our world is bent on destroying itself, does it not? Murderers run rampant killing without rhyme or reason, and even those who do not stain their hands with blood find ways to feed off the misery of their fellow man. All honor is forgotten and hate breeds in the hearts of whole cities, threatening to devour them.
Today you learn that these things are no accident. No, it is not the work of chance that entire societies are consumed with the need to destroy each other, that the very land itself degenerates.
Some of you may ask, why should this concern me? Why should the Undead, who already walk the shadows, be concerned for the fate of mortals? Why should the proud Vampires stand in defense of the welfare of other societies, or the orcs care for the lives of humans? This I will answer you: Know that should any of you fall to the perils that have awakuna matata to this age, all shall fall. Some of you may be born of the darkness, but know that even you shall become enslaved to this power.
And now we must come to the heart of this letter. I cannot guide you in this time of strife. The prophecies have come into play, and the extent to which I may interfere is limited, for the very existence of our world is governed by powers both of good and of evil. I will continue to strive to aid you in gathering your peoples, but I may no longer intervene directly in the affairs of your world. You will have to trust in the judgment of your leaders, and in your hearts. You must discover the meaning of the legends and unravel the prophecies by your own strength, if you are to survive them.
However, I will not leave you altogether unaided against what is to come. The degeneration infesting this world will have many hidden servants. For this reason, I will send agents to guide you. They will come upon you unlooked for, and you shall know them. They will be your direction in my stead, for as lesser powers they are not bound by such laws as I am. You must trust them and follow their guidance.
I leave you with a warning: doubt not the graveness of these times. The world you have known is changing, and the outcome can only be decided in the days to come. Trust in my agents, and trust in yourselves. Go with honor.
- Lady Mia, Seer of the Realm
“Pah!” utter Argyle, his annoyance evident by the look on his face. “A joke! A prank meant to disrupt our fair! Back to the fairgrounds I say, for my story is far more interesting!” Argyle did not at all like the attention being snatched away from him just as his moment of glory was upon him. Like most bards, Argyle rather thought of himself as the most important man in the world.
“Indeed!” cried Joseph in agreement. “Let us return to the stage where we can hear a real story!” Joseph liked the disturbance even less!
After the crowd meandered back over to the stage to listen to Argyle’s tale, discussing in hushed and excited whispers as they walked the strange event which had just occurred, Joseph the Fair Coordinator stepped up to introduce the Grandmaster Bard, Argyle, for the second time.
Heading up to the stage as Joseph completed the introduction, Argyle eyed the structure warily. The thing looked as if it might have been thrown together in quite a hurry with less than the greatest amount of skill. Nonetheless, Argyle the Minstrel was never one to miss an entrance. Leaping deftly up the rickety stairs, Argyle lifted up his hat and bowed grandly to his audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, orcs and savages!” Several “Hoowahs” greeted him in response. “Today, I bring to you a special tale for a very special occasion.” Working himself into the almost melodic cadence of a bard’s story telling pose, Argyle continued. “This is a legend which long ago faded from knowledge, but today I shall return it to the light once more. It is the story of our beginnings, and the true story, mind you.”
“The tale of Sosaria is both old, and fraught with many trials. Even before the time of the Shattering, humanity has rarely known peace. For in the days past, though the lands of Origin still knew the might of gods and goddesses (both of good and evil nature), ever were there names of legend to change history as it was written. Names such as British and Blackthorn, Mondain and Minax; each claimed their conquests to be in the name of either good or evil, but each only yearned after power for themselves, power which was gained from favor of the gods.
Yet, there were others, lesser divinities, and guardians, they who watched the world shudder, and then shatter, from the exploits of those who sought power. Though their passion for Sosaria was great, the gods refuted their pleas. So ensnared were the immortals to the deceptions of those who had once been their servants, the gods and goddesses of Sosaria became blind to the slow poison which was warping the lands. Finally, the ire of these guardians became so great that they pronounced their defiance to the gods, and abandoned their fair realm. They would leave the foolish divinities to the consequences of their own folly.
Time passed, and the world changed. The gods and goddesses which had once been great powers were slowly whittled away by the warlords who had formerly been their underlings, for even they had found secrets of power and immortality. Sosaria was twisted and defiled beyond recognition, and the golden days of the past became naught but a memory.
However, the story does not end here. For when those immortal servants of the gods pronounced their rebuke that fateful day, they did not enter the Void between worlds unarmed. One deity among them left bearing the tiniest fragment of the shattered Gem of Immortality, so small you could hardly see it. But it was enough. “With this,” they said to each other, “we shall rebuild a new land at this place in the Void, a land of our visions.” As it was said, so it came to pass. A new world was woven with power they were never thought to possess, and they themselves became gods of this world. They were Ryan, Eagle, Zippy, and Chaos. And as they enslaved themselves to the task of this forging, others of their brethren who sought them out in the Void joined them. So it came that the Lords Asayre, Mark, Alkiser, and Krrios took their place in the heavens. Together the new gods remade the world in the image of what the Origin might have been, had it never been subject to the corruptions and taint which destroyed it
Of the new gods, each did not think the same as the other on how the world should be. Some thought that now, their people should always be protected from the violence of the world. Some though that the ways of Men should be left to themselves, for it is suffering and victory which makes them human. In the end, light and dark always found balance, and the new world became what you see it as today.”
As Argyle’s last words trailed off, the orcs, humans, and savages jumped to their feet to applaud. Indeed, this was a far better tale than many had heard in years.
The boar hunt which followed was a harrowing ordeal, though the loot made it more than worthwhile. Even Joseph had not quite realized the strength of those beasts!
And at last, after the last boar’s death cries had disappeared, the fairgoers lounged around the stage sharing drink, jokes, and good stories. Joseph eyed the scene in satisfaction. Granted, there had been a few hitches and an unexpected visitor, but the fair had been a success!
Thanks to Halorian, Juk'Da, and Bob for pictures.
Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
Chapter 4 - The Past Awakens
In a hidden council chamber far above mountains of Sosaria, a green robed Seer conversed with an armored man.
“What?!” cried the platemail clad knight in outrage. “This cannot be, my Lady! I have sworn fealty to thee and on my honor I shall serve thee, but thou canst not believe that wretched creature wouldst do the same?! That foul orcish servant of Bloodgod’s, I might could understand. The orcs wouldst verily lack the intelligence to understand any but their own kind, and the savages would consider treaty with orcs before humans. But she, vile wench that she is, surely thou canst not abide by this?”
“Calm yourself, Galad,” replied Seer Samara coolly. “This outburst is most unbecoming. If Mia has accepted the vows of Lucia, then we must accept them as well. You were resurrected to carry the will of the Seers, not question it.”
Though the grated tone of his voice still revealed that he was hardly mollified, Lord Galad bowed and swore once again to obey. Dismissing him, Samara leaned back in her chair to contemplate.
It had been her idea to resurrect a Hero of ages past to act as their agent in the mortal world. Mia had been more than willing to accept the idea, for she had been unable to devise a solution herself which both sent aid to the peoples of Sosaria yet still remained within the confines of balance imposed by the Lord Mark. However, Mia had some very different ideas about who those heroes should be.
“Of all the people in this world,” she had said “There is at most, only a fraction of which we might stand to save, only a fragment of which remember us. And within that fragment, there are vampires, undead, humans, orcs, and others. For a hero of the old battles who once fought by Bloodgod’s side to return, the orcs would cheer and follow unquestioningly. But if you send a human alone, the orcs will curse and refuse him. So it is that we must not send merely one, but several emissaries to appeal to all the peoples, that they may accept them.”
And so it had been that Lord Galad had been agreed on to call upon those who’s hearts were good and still followed the virtues. To the orcs of all clans, savages and the like, an orcish agent was chosen: Gnark’Dul of the Bloodsworn tribe, who once had been prominent in the clan of warriors handpicked by Bloodgod himself to fight at his side, till the Golden Age and the Bloodsworn tribe both passed away. These both, the Seers had all agreed upon.
Then, there was the final choice whom Mia had insisted on: the Dread Lady Lucia. Samara recalled how Seer Kira had nearly left the council chambers in outrage at the suggestion. However, Mia had been adamant that the dark allied guilds would never follow one that could not be considered of their own kind. Well, Lucia was surely that. Bound by powerful oaths with the aid of magic, Lucia swore unending fealty to the Seers. However, Samara still wondered just how strong the magic was that bound those oaths.
Lucia had been the bane of thousands, and the mortal enemy of Galad. Asking them to work towards the same goal was like asking the sun not to rise. Lucia had in times past been the servant of an errant god. This god had been cast out of immortality and this world for his treason against the rightful gods. It was by the actions of those like Lucia who'd served the misfit god that the Golden age, the greatest memory in the history of their world, had finally passed. Samara could understand Galad’s hatred of Lucia. Not many could forgive a crime such as that. Yet, one could suppose that it was fitting that Lucia’s actions now should help rectify what of her actions could have been the very reason the Prophecy had come into play.
******
Argyle the Minstrel whistled a turn as he wandered down the road South of Yew. Visiting his friend Darius always managed to put him in a good mood. For a minstrel, to know a scribe with shelves upon shelves of archaic texts and centuries of stories was quite a blessing. In fact, Argyle’s mood was so jovial as he wandered that he did not even notice himself stumbling into the midst of a small band of orcs, so preoccupied was he at admiring the way the sunlight fell through the tree foliage overhead.
“Ooomi!” shouted the axe wielding orc which stood in his path. Looking around, Argyle saw several more close in towards him.
“Oh dear. Why erm, hello there my good orcs!”
Eying him flatly, the one who’d first spoken replied, “Tribuu –ARGK!!” The latter part of that phrase was not actually what the orc intended to say. It was merely the fact that the end of a large, crude looking staff smacking him soundly on the head had interrupted him.
“Eeeeey! Wut lat klomp meeb fur!”
“lat tuupid skah! nub klomp diz oomie. diz ib oomie skribblez blahher ub de tenny bra fayr. ib beri bubosh skribblez blahher!” exclaimed Zurk’Zull.
“UB. Uki.”
Turning towards Argyle, Zurk’Zull continued. “wut latz duin rowd ere?”
“Why yes, you do look familiar, don’t you! Indeed, I am Argyle the Minstrel!” he proclaimed with a bow and a sweep of his hat. “It honors me to know that you think so highly of my stories!”
“me ib Zurk’Zull. uki su, latz nub go tu urk fort uki.? ib nub bubosh fur oomies.”
“Hmm, I am not quite sure what you’re saying, but I get the feeling that it’s something along the lines of staying away from your home, eh? Well I apologize, brave orcs, for the intrusion! I normally head straight back home for Tenebrae after visiting my friend. However, today I was in such a good mood over our visit that I felt the urge to stretch my legs for a stroll. Darius is simply marvelous I tell you! The man has more books on his shelves then hairs on his head! And I don’t say that just because he’s begun to bald! Very well then, off I go and farewell!”
As quickly as that Argyle was off again, none to anxious to remain a moment longer than he had too among the company of the orcs. Where as Zurk’Zull might have seemed friendly enough, along with any of the orcs who’d been at the fair, but the rest seemed they would be just as happy to pop him upside the head with a club.
******
Trees cracked and branches fell as the creature loped through the forest, heedless of anything in its path. Spittle flecked its twisted and fanged mouth, and beneath its troll wrought helm were bloodshot eyes.
If the creature had been as smart as it was strong, he would know that the reason his master had sent him and the other two to attack the villages of the humans, orcs, undead, vampires and elves was so that those peoples might never have a chance to discover the paths that destiny had made for them. He would know that his master desired to see their hopes wither on the vine before ever having the chance to come to fruition, before they ever discovered the legends and the prophecy. As it as, the creature was not very smart. As a matter of fact, his brain was so small it only had room for one thing at a time. And if that thing was not eating, it was usually killing.
In the fortress south of Yew, the crowd of orcs had been joined by a party of savages. They waited for something, though they did not know what. Upon the will of the Seers, there were not one but two rival orc clans here, and their relationship was less than friendly. As patience has never been a virtue which orcs possessed in any great amount, the mood was beginning to border a riot.
“EY! wut da urkz nub klompin oomies fur?! diz iz tuupid” shouted one Grunt, waving his war mace in emphasis.
“shut lats stinkin blaher!” snarled Zark’Zull. “ib Skigudz blah da urkz tu be at da furt dis nyte, den da urkz at da furt!”
Shouting behind him, another orc by the name of Ru’Glub interrupted, pointing past the bored looking savages on his left to the forest beyond: “ey Zark’Zull! wut da stinkin skah ib dat ober der! Dat ting ib uglier den lat!!” as he pointed into the forest.
Though it could be said that the last orc was correct, for the creature heading straight for the fort was indeed uglier than Zark'Zull, it must in all fairness be said that it was also uglier than any other orc in their midst as well. If any orc knew surprise, it hardly caused more than a moment’s hesitation in their counter-assault as the gargantuan, troll-like creature lumbered in their direction with fists waving in challenge.
Though the orcs and savages were in numbers enough that they should have made easy work of any foe, this creature was strangely resistant to their attacks. Howling in frustration, the Savage King Atar leaped straight for the Shadowspawn troll’s eyes with his spear, only to be knocked aside like a sack of flour.
Indeed, the battle was beginning to go quite badly, until an unlooked for knight came charging through the trees. “Fear the edge of my blade, vile creature!” he cried as he deftly navigated the orcs and savages.
“Oh get out of the way, you oaf, unless you want to be the one hit with an Energy Bolt instead of this troll!” cried the voice of a woman behind him.
“tuupid oomies! ib nub de tyme tu blah! klomp here, blah latur!” spat their orcish companion, striking a large chunk of the beasts arm out as he spoke.
With the help of the three newcomers, though Galad would just as soon “accidently” lop off Lucia’s head instead of the creature’s, the Shadowspawn troll was soon overcome. Facing the ring of confused and suspicious orcs and savages, it was time for their adventures to begin.
“me ib Gnark’Dul” the huge shadow clad orc began. “meydi muuns ugo, me ib en Bluudswurn trybe. Bluudswurn surv Bloodgod, en klomp at ib syde. den, ib beeg wur kum, un wurld ib nub su bubosh enymur. der wub a Skigod whu wub beri nub bubosh. beeg klomp appen, en su Gnark’Dul ib luung sleep.”
Resting his axe against his leg, Gnark’Dul continued. “den, nub su meydi muuns ugo, Skigodz breen Gnark’Dul ouf ub luung sleeb. Skigodz blah der ib anuder beeg wur tu kum, aynd su Gnark’Dul kum tu de urkz tu elp.”
“What in the name of the gods does “blah” mean?” interrupted Galad.
“It means talk or speak, anything to do with words coming out of a mouth. Now speaking of mouths, shut yours,” hissed Lucia.
“ebeywayz, Gnark’Dul ib blahed me hab tu wurk wib dem . tuupid oomie ib fur guud oomies. breedur ubur der fur tu elp deddies en such.”
Arching an eyebrow at the term, “breeder”, Lucia deemed it time for her to step in. “Yes, the Seers have sent us with a quest. And though I’d much rather be making this fool tin man scream in pain than look at him, it seems at least for now we must work together until the hunt knows progress.”
“And though I woudst much rather see this vile witch’s head on a chopping block,” retorted Galad, “our first errand is to uncover a prophecy, called the Prophecy of Madness. For as even the Seers knoweth not where it doth lie, they advised us that first we ought look for ancient texts or scholars learned, ere we begin our search. There shall we find a clue perhaps to aid us in the hunt.”
“Mmm yes, what the rambling oaf is trying to say, is that we need to search for a library or scribes which may have texts containing the prophecy or an indication of where to find it. I don’t suppose unlearned creatures such as you would have ever so much as heard of reading,” Lucia sniffed as she eyed the orcs in their crude armor and the savages with their wild looking masks.
“lye braer ay??” muttered Gnark’Dul in confusion.
“ey! ubat alb an uur ugo, der wub un skribblez blahher rowd urk furt. den em blah he gu tu tenny bra. em hab furt der. em blah em ib vezut hib scrybe wib meeydi skribblez. mebe hib hab wut lat luuk fur?” explained Zurk’Zull. “me ib Mojoka,” he continued. “lat wunt meb tu bren lat tu tenny bra?”
“Yes,” replied Lucia. “If this story teller you speak of knows of such a man, then we shall find him.” Grunting in response, the orc began performing the rites to open a moongate, and the crowd wasted no time in entering it.
After a little searching, they found a house with the name “Argyle the Minstrel” on the sign at the front. It was not more than a quaint little one-room cottage near the Bank of Tenebrae.
“EY! UBEN DUUR UR MEB KLOMP LAT BUBOSH!” shouted Gnark’Dul, banging the cottage door with a gloved fist. Picking up on the excitement, all the orcs and savages together began beating on the walls maniacally and shouting threats of eminent death, destruction and mayhem should the door not be promptly opened. After only a few moments, the door flung open to reveal a very displeased looking Argyle.
“What’s the meaning of all this ruckus?! Can’t a man rest in peace in his own home?” he exclaimed angrily.
“lat gruk wur scrybe ib at. lat blah Gnark’Dul ayb Gnark’Dul nub klomp lat, uki?”
“A threat, my dear orc? Why the nerve!”
“Noble bard, ignore the foul beast who doth speak such uncouth words to thee, but thou must here my words, I beseech thee, lest the graveness of these times strike against our fair lands, bereft of remorse for the fallen or mercy for the innocent. We doth seek one learned in lore of elder days and times past, at the bidding of Seers to a mission of great import! And I, Lord Galad, hath sworn unending fealty to the Seers, they whose beauty is like the star kissed moonlight that doth fall upon a quiet forest, and I shalt not fail them!
Argyle could only stare at Galad in skeptical disbelief. Looking to Lucia, he muttered, “Is this guy for real?”
“Sadly? Yes. However, it is true that the Seers have sent us and the quest truly is crucial in nature. So, though it may be crueler than one can imagine, if you don’t agree to cooperate, I’m going to leave Galad here to stay with you and serenade you with his life story. I estimate you’ll last about 10 minutes alone with this guy before you jump off the nearest bridge and drown yourself just to make it stop. So do we have a deal minstrel? Will you tell us where to find this scribe of yours?”
Ignoring both Galad’s look of indignant outrage and Gnark’Dul’s guffaws equally, Argyle gave her a flat look. “Very well then, I’ll guide you to where you need to go, but there are two ways to get to Darius’s retreat and I think I’ll send you the long way. And as for you, Mister Fancypants, I may be a bard and master of flowery poetical speech, but you are over the top!”
With that, Argyle stepped out into the crowd of orcs and savages before him, and began casting a moongate. When the spell was complete, he added “Have fun, children. And don’t bother me again!” before stepping back into his cottage and slamming the door.
The only thing left to do was to enter the gate, and so they all poured in as quickly as they could. Well, it must be said that when Argyle mentioned this as being “the long way”, it wasn’t quite what you might think. The actual distance was really fairly short. However, it was the time spent fighting the host of brigands that had taken up abode in this cave which made it quite long. Had their not been so many orcs and savages, the party of adventurers quite likely never would have made it. As it was, it would have gone far better had they been more. After pulling his spear free of the last impaled brigand, Prie the savage wiped the blood off his spearhead on the deceased’s clothes and followed his tribe mates outside the cave’s other end.
This time when the party of savages and orcs saw a locked cottage door, they knew exactly what to do! The adventurers immediately fell to beating the walls and the doors with fists, clubs, or spear ends while a host of savage howls and shouts of “UBEN DE DUUR!!! UBEN DE SKAHIN DUUR!” filled the air. This time, quicker than Argyle, the door popped open and out came the brown robed scribe, Darius, with a book in hand.
“What in the name of the gods and all things holy are you lot doing on my front lawn?! Don’t you see the sign? No visitors welcome!” he shouted at the noisome crowd.
“Peace, old man! We mean you no harm! We doth come in search of thine knowledge!” replied Galad, soothingly.
"Pity that! You’ve come to the wrong place then!"
Gnark’Dul, however, had had enough of humans arguing with him. “tuupid oomie, lat leezen to Gnark’Dul or meb smash lat skull!”
Lucia could not help but roll her eyes at that comment. “Oh yes, that’s brilliant. Offer to break his neck and I’m sure he’d love to talk.”
Continuing, Galad said, “Friend, we come not of our own want, but by the will of the Seers. We seek to learn of a prophecy, the Prophecy of Madness.”
“Prophecy of Madness eh?” smirked the old man. “You’re putting your nose where it doesn’t belong boy!”
“Lat nub gruk wut we iz duuing, oomi.”
“The orc is correct. This is not a joke. We were sent by the Seers to learn the prophecy, for it is already upon us.”
Loosing some of its cynicism, the hermits voice became more of a sigh. “It is, is it? I can’t say that it surprises me, looking at the state of our world now. Why else do you think I’m a hermit? Or used to be until you lot came tramping in… Very well then, I shall tell you something of the prophecy:
In the beginning days of the First Age, Yew was little more than a handful of muddy huts and one stone monastery. In this monastery of Yew, a prophet of the race of men was kept. The monks, trapped him in a tower with windows barred and a many locks on the door. They claimed his prophecies were a danger to the unlearned and should thus never leave the monastery libraries. The final act of this prophet was to give to the most complex and powerful prophecy of his world. As if the horror of his visions left him removed of any want of life, he died upon uttering the final words of the Prophecy of Madness.
In the night upon his death, the god Ryan visited the monastery. He took the prophecy from their halls, and erased its words from the memory of the monks. For Ryan knew that the prophecy was a gateway, a key to either bliss, or destruction. And though it could be the key to bliss and happiness were it to take that fork, It could as easily be the portal to destruction and slavery. It was dependant upon the heart of he who turned the key. So, to protect the prophecy from the second possibility, it was shattered by Ryan into 7 pieces, and given one quatrain each to a guardian.
The Guardians were the Forest Queen and her six handmaidens, and by them it was kept secret and safe for many years. But as those years passed, a dark god rose to power, who sought to usurp Ryan’s throne. This god was filled with blasphemy, and sought to create things that should never be: ships that rode the winds, and trees which walked and spoke like men, and many other things. This fallen god, Robin, imprisoned the Forest Queen and her handmaidens, for he would force them to reveal their quatrains, or stay imprisoned in his dungeons forever."
Chapter 4 - The Past Awakens
In a hidden council chamber far above mountains of Sosaria, a green robed Seer conversed with an armored man.
“What?!” cried the platemail clad knight in outrage. “This cannot be, my Lady! I have sworn fealty to thee and on my honor I shall serve thee, but thou canst not believe that wretched creature wouldst do the same?! That foul orcish servant of Bloodgod’s, I might could understand. The orcs wouldst verily lack the intelligence to understand any but their own kind, and the savages would consider treaty with orcs before humans. But she, vile wench that she is, surely thou canst not abide by this?”
“Calm yourself, Galad,” replied Seer Samara coolly. “This outburst is most unbecoming. If Mia has accepted the vows of Lucia, then we must accept them as well. You were resurrected to carry the will of the Seers, not question it.”
Though the grated tone of his voice still revealed that he was hardly mollified, Lord Galad bowed and swore once again to obey. Dismissing him, Samara leaned back in her chair to contemplate.
It had been her idea to resurrect a Hero of ages past to act as their agent in the mortal world. Mia had been more than willing to accept the idea, for she had been unable to devise a solution herself which both sent aid to the peoples of Sosaria yet still remained within the confines of balance imposed by the Lord Mark. However, Mia had some very different ideas about who those heroes should be.
“Of all the people in this world,” she had said “There is at most, only a fraction of which we might stand to save, only a fragment of which remember us. And within that fragment, there are vampires, undead, humans, orcs, and others. For a hero of the old battles who once fought by Bloodgod’s side to return, the orcs would cheer and follow unquestioningly. But if you send a human alone, the orcs will curse and refuse him. So it is that we must not send merely one, but several emissaries to appeal to all the peoples, that they may accept them.”
And so it had been that Lord Galad had been agreed on to call upon those who’s hearts were good and still followed the virtues. To the orcs of all clans, savages and the like, an orcish agent was chosen: Gnark’Dul of the Bloodsworn tribe, who once had been prominent in the clan of warriors handpicked by Bloodgod himself to fight at his side, till the Golden Age and the Bloodsworn tribe both passed away. These both, the Seers had all agreed upon.
Then, there was the final choice whom Mia had insisted on: the Dread Lady Lucia. Samara recalled how Seer Kira had nearly left the council chambers in outrage at the suggestion. However, Mia had been adamant that the dark allied guilds would never follow one that could not be considered of their own kind. Well, Lucia was surely that. Bound by powerful oaths with the aid of magic, Lucia swore unending fealty to the Seers. However, Samara still wondered just how strong the magic was that bound those oaths.
Lucia had been the bane of thousands, and the mortal enemy of Galad. Asking them to work towards the same goal was like asking the sun not to rise. Lucia had in times past been the servant of an errant god. This god had been cast out of immortality and this world for his treason against the rightful gods. It was by the actions of those like Lucia who'd served the misfit god that the Golden age, the greatest memory in the history of their world, had finally passed. Samara could understand Galad’s hatred of Lucia. Not many could forgive a crime such as that. Yet, one could suppose that it was fitting that Lucia’s actions now should help rectify what of her actions could have been the very reason the Prophecy had come into play.
******
Argyle the Minstrel whistled a turn as he wandered down the road South of Yew. Visiting his friend Darius always managed to put him in a good mood. For a minstrel, to know a scribe with shelves upon shelves of archaic texts and centuries of stories was quite a blessing. In fact, Argyle’s mood was so jovial as he wandered that he did not even notice himself stumbling into the midst of a small band of orcs, so preoccupied was he at admiring the way the sunlight fell through the tree foliage overhead.
“Ooomi!” shouted the axe wielding orc which stood in his path. Looking around, Argyle saw several more close in towards him.
“Oh dear. Why erm, hello there my good orcs!”
Eying him flatly, the one who’d first spoken replied, “Tribuu –ARGK!!” The latter part of that phrase was not actually what the orc intended to say. It was merely the fact that the end of a large, crude looking staff smacking him soundly on the head had interrupted him.
“Eeeeey! Wut lat klomp meeb fur!”
“lat tuupid skah! nub klomp diz oomie. diz ib oomie skribblez blahher ub de tenny bra fayr. ib beri bubosh skribblez blahher!” exclaimed Zurk’Zull.
“UB. Uki.”
Turning towards Argyle, Zurk’Zull continued. “wut latz duin rowd ere?”
“Why yes, you do look familiar, don’t you! Indeed, I am Argyle the Minstrel!” he proclaimed with a bow and a sweep of his hat. “It honors me to know that you think so highly of my stories!”
“me ib Zurk’Zull. uki su, latz nub go tu urk fort uki.? ib nub bubosh fur oomies.”
“Hmm, I am not quite sure what you’re saying, but I get the feeling that it’s something along the lines of staying away from your home, eh? Well I apologize, brave orcs, for the intrusion! I normally head straight back home for Tenebrae after visiting my friend. However, today I was in such a good mood over our visit that I felt the urge to stretch my legs for a stroll. Darius is simply marvelous I tell you! The man has more books on his shelves then hairs on his head! And I don’t say that just because he’s begun to bald! Very well then, off I go and farewell!”
As quickly as that Argyle was off again, none to anxious to remain a moment longer than he had too among the company of the orcs. Where as Zurk’Zull might have seemed friendly enough, along with any of the orcs who’d been at the fair, but the rest seemed they would be just as happy to pop him upside the head with a club.
******
Trees cracked and branches fell as the creature loped through the forest, heedless of anything in its path. Spittle flecked its twisted and fanged mouth, and beneath its troll wrought helm were bloodshot eyes.
If the creature had been as smart as it was strong, he would know that the reason his master had sent him and the other two to attack the villages of the humans, orcs, undead, vampires and elves was so that those peoples might never have a chance to discover the paths that destiny had made for them. He would know that his master desired to see their hopes wither on the vine before ever having the chance to come to fruition, before they ever discovered the legends and the prophecy. As it as, the creature was not very smart. As a matter of fact, his brain was so small it only had room for one thing at a time. And if that thing was not eating, it was usually killing.
In the fortress south of Yew, the crowd of orcs had been joined by a party of savages. They waited for something, though they did not know what. Upon the will of the Seers, there were not one but two rival orc clans here, and their relationship was less than friendly. As patience has never been a virtue which orcs possessed in any great amount, the mood was beginning to border a riot.
“EY! wut da urkz nub klompin oomies fur?! diz iz tuupid” shouted one Grunt, waving his war mace in emphasis.
“shut lats stinkin blaher!” snarled Zark’Zull. “ib Skigudz blah da urkz tu be at da furt dis nyte, den da urkz at da furt!”
Shouting behind him, another orc by the name of Ru’Glub interrupted, pointing past the bored looking savages on his left to the forest beyond: “ey Zark’Zull! wut da stinkin skah ib dat ober der! Dat ting ib uglier den lat!!” as he pointed into the forest.
Though it could be said that the last orc was correct, for the creature heading straight for the fort was indeed uglier than Zark'Zull, it must in all fairness be said that it was also uglier than any other orc in their midst as well. If any orc knew surprise, it hardly caused more than a moment’s hesitation in their counter-assault as the gargantuan, troll-like creature lumbered in their direction with fists waving in challenge.
Though the orcs and savages were in numbers enough that they should have made easy work of any foe, this creature was strangely resistant to their attacks. Howling in frustration, the Savage King Atar leaped straight for the Shadowspawn troll’s eyes with his spear, only to be knocked aside like a sack of flour.
Indeed, the battle was beginning to go quite badly, until an unlooked for knight came charging through the trees. “Fear the edge of my blade, vile creature!” he cried as he deftly navigated the orcs and savages.
“Oh get out of the way, you oaf, unless you want to be the one hit with an Energy Bolt instead of this troll!” cried the voice of a woman behind him.
“tuupid oomies! ib nub de tyme tu blah! klomp here, blah latur!” spat their orcish companion, striking a large chunk of the beasts arm out as he spoke.
With the help of the three newcomers, though Galad would just as soon “accidently” lop off Lucia’s head instead of the creature’s, the Shadowspawn troll was soon overcome. Facing the ring of confused and suspicious orcs and savages, it was time for their adventures to begin.
“me ib Gnark’Dul” the huge shadow clad orc began. “meydi muuns ugo, me ib en Bluudswurn trybe. Bluudswurn surv Bloodgod, en klomp at ib syde. den, ib beeg wur kum, un wurld ib nub su bubosh enymur. der wub a Skigod whu wub beri nub bubosh. beeg klomp appen, en su Gnark’Dul ib luung sleep.”
Resting his axe against his leg, Gnark’Dul continued. “den, nub su meydi muuns ugo, Skigodz breen Gnark’Dul ouf ub luung sleeb. Skigodz blah der ib anuder beeg wur tu kum, aynd su Gnark’Dul kum tu de urkz tu elp.”
“What in the name of the gods does “blah” mean?” interrupted Galad.
“It means talk or speak, anything to do with words coming out of a mouth. Now speaking of mouths, shut yours,” hissed Lucia.
“ebeywayz, Gnark’Dul ib blahed me hab tu wurk wib dem . tuupid oomie ib fur guud oomies. breedur ubur der fur tu elp deddies en such.”
Arching an eyebrow at the term, “breeder”, Lucia deemed it time for her to step in. “Yes, the Seers have sent us with a quest. And though I’d much rather be making this fool tin man scream in pain than look at him, it seems at least for now we must work together until the hunt knows progress.”
“And though I woudst much rather see this vile witch’s head on a chopping block,” retorted Galad, “our first errand is to uncover a prophecy, called the Prophecy of Madness. For as even the Seers knoweth not where it doth lie, they advised us that first we ought look for ancient texts or scholars learned, ere we begin our search. There shall we find a clue perhaps to aid us in the hunt.”
“Mmm yes, what the rambling oaf is trying to say, is that we need to search for a library or scribes which may have texts containing the prophecy or an indication of where to find it. I don’t suppose unlearned creatures such as you would have ever so much as heard of reading,” Lucia sniffed as she eyed the orcs in their crude armor and the savages with their wild looking masks.
“lye braer ay??” muttered Gnark’Dul in confusion.
“ey! ubat alb an uur ugo, der wub un skribblez blahher rowd urk furt. den em blah he gu tu tenny bra. em hab furt der. em blah em ib vezut hib scrybe wib meeydi skribblez. mebe hib hab wut lat luuk fur?” explained Zurk’Zull. “me ib Mojoka,” he continued. “lat wunt meb tu bren lat tu tenny bra?”
“Yes,” replied Lucia. “If this story teller you speak of knows of such a man, then we shall find him.” Grunting in response, the orc began performing the rites to open a moongate, and the crowd wasted no time in entering it.
After a little searching, they found a house with the name “Argyle the Minstrel” on the sign at the front. It was not more than a quaint little one-room cottage near the Bank of Tenebrae.
“EY! UBEN DUUR UR MEB KLOMP LAT BUBOSH!” shouted Gnark’Dul, banging the cottage door with a gloved fist. Picking up on the excitement, all the orcs and savages together began beating on the walls maniacally and shouting threats of eminent death, destruction and mayhem should the door not be promptly opened. After only a few moments, the door flung open to reveal a very displeased looking Argyle.
“What’s the meaning of all this ruckus?! Can’t a man rest in peace in his own home?” he exclaimed angrily.
“lat gruk wur scrybe ib at. lat blah Gnark’Dul ayb Gnark’Dul nub klomp lat, uki?”
“A threat, my dear orc? Why the nerve!”
“Noble bard, ignore the foul beast who doth speak such uncouth words to thee, but thou must here my words, I beseech thee, lest the graveness of these times strike against our fair lands, bereft of remorse for the fallen or mercy for the innocent. We doth seek one learned in lore of elder days and times past, at the bidding of Seers to a mission of great import! And I, Lord Galad, hath sworn unending fealty to the Seers, they whose beauty is like the star kissed moonlight that doth fall upon a quiet forest, and I shalt not fail them!
Argyle could only stare at Galad in skeptical disbelief. Looking to Lucia, he muttered, “Is this guy for real?”
“Sadly? Yes. However, it is true that the Seers have sent us and the quest truly is crucial in nature. So, though it may be crueler than one can imagine, if you don’t agree to cooperate, I’m going to leave Galad here to stay with you and serenade you with his life story. I estimate you’ll last about 10 minutes alone with this guy before you jump off the nearest bridge and drown yourself just to make it stop. So do we have a deal minstrel? Will you tell us where to find this scribe of yours?”
Ignoring both Galad’s look of indignant outrage and Gnark’Dul’s guffaws equally, Argyle gave her a flat look. “Very well then, I’ll guide you to where you need to go, but there are two ways to get to Darius’s retreat and I think I’ll send you the long way. And as for you, Mister Fancypants, I may be a bard and master of flowery poetical speech, but you are over the top!”
With that, Argyle stepped out into the crowd of orcs and savages before him, and began casting a moongate. When the spell was complete, he added “Have fun, children. And don’t bother me again!” before stepping back into his cottage and slamming the door.
The only thing left to do was to enter the gate, and so they all poured in as quickly as they could. Well, it must be said that when Argyle mentioned this as being “the long way”, it wasn’t quite what you might think. The actual distance was really fairly short. However, it was the time spent fighting the host of brigands that had taken up abode in this cave which made it quite long. Had their not been so many orcs and savages, the party of adventurers quite likely never would have made it. As it was, it would have gone far better had they been more. After pulling his spear free of the last impaled brigand, Prie the savage wiped the blood off his spearhead on the deceased’s clothes and followed his tribe mates outside the cave’s other end.
This time when the party of savages and orcs saw a locked cottage door, they knew exactly what to do! The adventurers immediately fell to beating the walls and the doors with fists, clubs, or spear ends while a host of savage howls and shouts of “UBEN DE DUUR!!! UBEN DE SKAHIN DUUR!” filled the air. This time, quicker than Argyle, the door popped open and out came the brown robed scribe, Darius, with a book in hand.
“What in the name of the gods and all things holy are you lot doing on my front lawn?! Don’t you see the sign? No visitors welcome!” he shouted at the noisome crowd.
“Peace, old man! We mean you no harm! We doth come in search of thine knowledge!” replied Galad, soothingly.
"Pity that! You’ve come to the wrong place then!"
Gnark’Dul, however, had had enough of humans arguing with him. “tuupid oomie, lat leezen to Gnark’Dul or meb smash lat skull!”
Lucia could not help but roll her eyes at that comment. “Oh yes, that’s brilliant. Offer to break his neck and I’m sure he’d love to talk.”
Continuing, Galad said, “Friend, we come not of our own want, but by the will of the Seers. We seek to learn of a prophecy, the Prophecy of Madness.”
“Prophecy of Madness eh?” smirked the old man. “You’re putting your nose where it doesn’t belong boy!”
“Lat nub gruk wut we iz duuing, oomi.”
“The orc is correct. This is not a joke. We were sent by the Seers to learn the prophecy, for it is already upon us.”
Loosing some of its cynicism, the hermits voice became more of a sigh. “It is, is it? I can’t say that it surprises me, looking at the state of our world now. Why else do you think I’m a hermit? Or used to be until you lot came tramping in… Very well then, I shall tell you something of the prophecy:
In the beginning days of the First Age, Yew was little more than a handful of muddy huts and one stone monastery. In this monastery of Yew, a prophet of the race of men was kept. The monks, trapped him in a tower with windows barred and a many locks on the door. They claimed his prophecies were a danger to the unlearned and should thus never leave the monastery libraries. The final act of this prophet was to give to the most complex and powerful prophecy of his world. As if the horror of his visions left him removed of any want of life, he died upon uttering the final words of the Prophecy of Madness.
In the night upon his death, the god Ryan visited the monastery. He took the prophecy from their halls, and erased its words from the memory of the monks. For Ryan knew that the prophecy was a gateway, a key to either bliss, or destruction. And though it could be the key to bliss and happiness were it to take that fork, It could as easily be the portal to destruction and slavery. It was dependant upon the heart of he who turned the key. So, to protect the prophecy from the second possibility, it was shattered by Ryan into 7 pieces, and given one quatrain each to a guardian.
The Guardians were the Forest Queen and her six handmaidens, and by them it was kept secret and safe for many years. But as those years passed, a dark god rose to power, who sought to usurp Ryan’s throne. This god was filled with blasphemy, and sought to create things that should never be: ships that rode the winds, and trees which walked and spoke like men, and many other things. This fallen god, Robin, imprisoned the Forest Queen and her handmaidens, for he would force them to reveal their quatrains, or stay imprisoned in his dungeons forever."
Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
It was at this time that Ryan learned of Robin’s treachery, and struck him down from the heavens. But it was not learned until after Robin’s destruction and banishment that he had imprisoned the Forest Queen and her maidens. Where they had been hidden, the gods did not know.
For an Age now they have lain hidden in chains, and no one now lives who knows where. This is why your search for the prophecy is fruitless.”
“Fruitless?” Lucia was the first to speak. “I think not. For I am the Dread Lady Lucia, and I was among Robin’s generals. I believe I know where they are hidden, for seven places there were that my former master guarded jealously with many beasts. I shall seek them out and confirm them for us. If they be so, then we will fight the guardian creatures, and release the handmaidens to learn of their fate.”
Eyes widening, Darius looked startled. “Lucia you say? A pox upon ye for all the ill you have done in this world, but if your heart is where you say it is this time, then I wish you luck.”
The mutterings and hushed conversations of the orcs and savages discussing this wild tale were suddenly cut short by the echo of a wicked sounding laughter playing across the mountains.
“Foolish creatures!” spoke a malicious voice above them. “You think that you shall be first to turn the key of the Prophecy?” The voice itself belonged to a fearsome figure who suddenly appeared on the rooftop above them. The face of the one who spoke these words was hidden in the cowl of a blood red robe. He brandished a dark scythe held by hands with flesh so black it looked as if he’d been scorched with fire.
Gasping at the sudden apparition of this menacing entity, Darius dashed back inside and flung the door shut to cower under his writing desk. Savages immediately threw spears to pierce the figure’s heart, but the spears only passed right through him like a shadow to bury themselves in the roof’s shingles.
“It is fitting that you should acquire the key for me, it will be your first act as my servants. For I will be the first to step through the gate that the Prophecy of Madness opens, and you will be my slaves for eternity!” With another wicked laugh, the apparition was consumed in a cloud of dark smoke, and vanished amidst the curses of orcs and the howls of savages.
“wut de skah dat be?!” demanded Gnark’Dul.
“meb dun gruk bud im be panzee! e nub klomp, e run uway frum urkz!” boasted one orc. Prie the savage responded to that remark by blowing a raspberry at the speaker.
“Well, no matter,” spoke Lucia, dismissing this strange occurance. “Probably some old rival of mine thinking he will get the best of me, the fool. The important thing is, we now know the direction in which our hunt will take us. Everybody here return to your homes and your fortresses. There is much preparation to be done. In the weeks that follow we adventure on 7 quests, to free the 7 Guardians of the Prophecy of Madness. My curiosity is surely aroused, to discover what my former master guarded so carefully. But prepare yourselves well, for I know that these will be no easy tasks.”
With the course of action being decided, gates were opened to return home. The coming weeks would be a time of battle, and there was much to be done to prepare.
It was at this time that Ryan learned of Robin’s treachery, and struck him down from the heavens. But it was not learned until after Robin’s destruction and banishment that he had imprisoned the Forest Queen and her maidens. Where they had been hidden, the gods did not know.
For an Age now they have lain hidden in chains, and no one now lives who knows where. This is why your search for the prophecy is fruitless.”
“Fruitless?” Lucia was the first to speak. “I think not. For I am the Dread Lady Lucia, and I was among Robin’s generals. I believe I know where they are hidden, for seven places there were that my former master guarded jealously with many beasts. I shall seek them out and confirm them for us. If they be so, then we will fight the guardian creatures, and release the handmaidens to learn of their fate.”
Eyes widening, Darius looked startled. “Lucia you say? A pox upon ye for all the ill you have done in this world, but if your heart is where you say it is this time, then I wish you luck.”
The mutterings and hushed conversations of the orcs and savages discussing this wild tale were suddenly cut short by the echo of a wicked sounding laughter playing across the mountains.
“Foolish creatures!” spoke a malicious voice above them. “You think that you shall be first to turn the key of the Prophecy?” The voice itself belonged to a fearsome figure who suddenly appeared on the rooftop above them. The face of the one who spoke these words was hidden in the cowl of a blood red robe. He brandished a dark scythe held by hands with flesh so black it looked as if he’d been scorched with fire.
Gasping at the sudden apparition of this menacing entity, Darius dashed back inside and flung the door shut to cower under his writing desk. Savages immediately threw spears to pierce the figure’s heart, but the spears only passed right through him like a shadow to bury themselves in the roof’s shingles.
“It is fitting that you should acquire the key for me, it will be your first act as my servants. For I will be the first to step through the gate that the Prophecy of Madness opens, and you will be my slaves for eternity!” With another wicked laugh, the apparition was consumed in a cloud of dark smoke, and vanished amidst the curses of orcs and the howls of savages.
“wut de skah dat be?!” demanded Gnark’Dul.
“meb dun gruk bud im be panzee! e nub klomp, e run uway frum urkz!” boasted one orc. Prie the savage responded to that remark by blowing a raspberry at the speaker.
“Well, no matter,” spoke Lucia, dismissing this strange occurance. “Probably some old rival of mine thinking he will get the best of me, the fool. The important thing is, we now know the direction in which our hunt will take us. Everybody here return to your homes and your fortresses. There is much preparation to be done. In the weeks that follow we adventure on 7 quests, to free the 7 Guardians of the Prophecy of Madness. My curiosity is surely aroused, to discover what my former master guarded so carefully. But prepare yourselves well, for I know that these will be no easy tasks.”
With the course of action being decided, gates were opened to return home. The coming weeks would be a time of battle, and there was much to be done to prepare.
Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
Chapter 5 – Dungeon Wind
Lucia stared at the ground icily, wrapped in her own thoughts. The party they had assembled to assault the ancient underground dungeon of the ex-god, Robin, was numerous, but was it enough? If her suspicions were correct and this was indeed a place where a handmaiden of the demigod forest queen was imprisoned, it would be heavily guarded. Even if she lay somewhere in the depths of that place, there could be no telling what else they would find. When Robin still had power, he’d been in the habit of twisting and maiming creation to amuse his own foul tastes. Well, there was only one way to find out!
“lat ib wazten meb tyme. huw kum web nub gu?”
Lucia glared at him with annoyance, but managed to avoid a snide retort. The orc appeared to be fairly impatient at the delay, but it was hardly surprising that any delay in killing creatures at all be a nuisance to his sort. Orcs were like that. Though, standing there clutching his double-bladed axe in waiting, she had to confess that orcs really did put humans in their place when it came to raw strength and admirably muscular physique. It was a shame that they were none too bright, smelled, and were ugly.
“Very well, Savages, Orcs, and Humans, prepare yourselves for the Dungeon of Wind, for I have found a place where I believe the first handmaiden is imprisoned. I opened the gates, but the gusts blew me back. We now go forth to do battle.” Upon her last words, she performed the incantation which opened a gateway into blackness and the unknown.
Upon entering the other side of the gate, the strange echo of wind carried through the cracks and crevices of this dim chamber. Weapons and spells at the ready, the party was assaulted by a host of both air elementals and some strange robed creatures whom they had never before seen. The creatures’ garb seemed woven of a silk so fine that it merely fluttered and fell back into shape upon the passing of a blade through it, and so it took many strikes to fell the creature. The beings were, it seemed, more susceptible to the attacks of energy coming from the few mages and orcish Mojoka in the band.
After clearing this room, it was deemed time to move forward down the dark hall to see what awaited them next.
“Keep your guard up, all of you,” Lucia had cautioned. “These halls have not lain undisturbed for so long because they were friendly and inviting. There will surely be much more deadly foes to come.”
“Skah! Meb ib surry fur da beastiez ib dey fynd meb,” scoffed the orcish mage, KurGrat.
Sharing an exaggerated look of skepticism, some unidentifiable voice drifted up from the handful of Vikings gathered to one side: “Aye, but I feel surrier fur ye muther, tha’ it was ye sha haed faer a sun…”
After taking six savages, two knights, and Gnark’Dul to stop a fight from occurring right then and there between the Vikings and the orcs, the party really did manage to move on till they reached another large chamber, where the next group of monsters had already had time to prepare for the attack. Blue robed Sky Mages summoned storms to strafe the assaulters. They unleashed powerful dragons whose wings created gusts of wind which continually knocked the adventurers back. After several injuries and a pressing struggle, the party finally claimed the second chamber.
Coming upon the third chamber, they were met with a counter-attack of Sky Warriors, gargantuan titans who dwarfed even Gnark’Dul. These beings were stronger even than the Sky Mages, and it took every bit of blood, sweat, and drive the adventurers possessed to defeat one wave of attack after another. Supporting the ranks of the Sky Warriors were another pack of Wind Dragons hammering at the alliance party with their fell gusts. Aerial servants pecked at their hands and their eyes.
When the last mutilated corpse fell with a thud to the ground, Lucia turned to the others and spoke. “Stay here, let me slip further up and see what awaits for us this time. If there is another ambush prepared, I can sneak back and warn you. Otherwise, the racket your lot would make would make stealth impossible.” And creeping into the shadow she went, only to return a few moments later with a strangely blank expression on her face.
Leaning against the cavern wall with arms crossed, she looked up the hall and said gravely, “Well, I hope you’re ready for a fight. Because it’s Segos down there on the other end of this hall, and I don’t think he’ll be going down without one. As a matter of fact, I don’t know that he’ll be going down at all. This is no ordinary dragon.”
“Skah! Lat nub ib jukking?” exclaimed Gnark’Dul.
“Afraid not.”
Looking over her shoulder, Lucia caught a Cove Savage pantomiming a chicken in her direction. “I am not a chicken!” she snarled. “This dragon is dangerous! He’s got the power and life of 30 dragons put together! He’s older than I am, and if the outcast god had him guarding this dungeon then there’s no doubt a handmaiden must be here! So we might as well just go in there and get it over with. If we die, we die. If we win, then good for us. Either way, we’re going in now.” With her skirts flowing, Lucia strode angrily back towards the dungeon’s end, the rest of the party in her wake.
When the knight Hector would tell the story of this adventure, many years later, he would always speak emphatically of that first moment he entered the final chamber. It seemed as if the party of adventurers had stepped into a floating island of existence, flying on the backs of stars. It was to see timelessness and walk upon antiquity. Even the sight of their foe, the ancient wyrm Segos, nearly made his virtuous heart weep for the beauty of shimmering blues and otherworldly surrealism which clung to the dragon’s mail coat. The serpentine creature’s body lay entwined between the unfamiliar structures of strangely wrought ships. Why would their be ships in this unworldly piece of the heavens, where no water would ever be found? Yet before his mind could ponder this question, the dragon’s ire had been roused, and the fell beast Segos was upon them.
The sheets of flame which fell across the stone pavers in waves brought scorching heat, and the winds cut into his flesh like knives, but Hector would not relent. The battle cries of his comrades were shouted, and the wyrm’s razor talons lashed out, cutting through plate armor like paper. The wound was deep. Hector felt his life seeping down through his surcoat, hot and sticky. Falling to his knees, the knight held himself up with his sword as he tried to staunch the blood flow, expecting no help from his embattled party members. Yet in that same moment, the sweet flood of health flowed into him from some benefactor’s healing spell. Looking up, he saw the orcish mage KurGrat finishing the spell. Till the day he died, that orc would probably deny ever doing such a thing for a “oomie”, but sometimes, you just have to bend the rules when the fate of bigger things are at stake.
Was it foolish to feel just a little of sadness to see the lordly dragon die? For it was still a thing of beauty, as ferocious at it was. And Segos only ever believed that he was serving the will of the gods. Yet all other concerns faded away as they looked upon the back of this floor to where Lucia shattered an ebony door, freeing the winged maiden trapped within.
Upon the maiden’s ageless face, there was the look of gratitude and relief. Even the murmurings of the adventurers trailed off, as they waited for someone to speak.
“I look upon the face of heroes this day, for I see the dragon slain and my bonds broken. In all the days and years I have lain here, hope had departed me, yet now the joy of life may return. Yet though I lay here trapped, my vision not of my eyes could sometimes still see of things which passed in this world. So it is that I know why you have come.
I will tell you of the fallen god, he who would maim creation. He sought to make many things that should not be, to twist the world to parallel his mind. Here you see one such example of these things. He would make ships which rode the air like water, by breaking and remaking what is “air”. It is good that the Lord Ryan outcast the wicked Robin, else surely the world would have been sundered.
I will return now to my Forest home, but first I will reveal to you that which you seek, for you have proven your worth this day:
In the wake of old gods, new gods would emerge into the Void.
A fragment of the shattered gem born into the darkness:
That which was taken in rage and of defiance,
A taint will remain within.
That is my quatrain of the Prophecy of Madness. I do not know anymore. You must rescue my fellow maidens, both to free them from this horror of imprisonment and to find the rest of the Prophecy. For know this: though I have known of your coming, there is also the coming of another entity which seeks to rival your purpose. He must fail where you succeed! I hope you find the other maidens safe, though I do not know where they be.
I return now to my home, farewell…”
Shimmering evanescence surrounded the lithe fairy as she vanished from the darkness. The first quest had been completed, and yet so much more remained yet to be done. The adventurers would return now to prepare for the next battle, yet even so they could not have know what malice awaited their next mission!
Chapter 5 – Dungeon Wind
Lucia stared at the ground icily, wrapped in her own thoughts. The party they had assembled to assault the ancient underground dungeon of the ex-god, Robin, was numerous, but was it enough? If her suspicions were correct and this was indeed a place where a handmaiden of the demigod forest queen was imprisoned, it would be heavily guarded. Even if she lay somewhere in the depths of that place, there could be no telling what else they would find. When Robin still had power, he’d been in the habit of twisting and maiming creation to amuse his own foul tastes. Well, there was only one way to find out!
“lat ib wazten meb tyme. huw kum web nub gu?”
Lucia glared at him with annoyance, but managed to avoid a snide retort. The orc appeared to be fairly impatient at the delay, but it was hardly surprising that any delay in killing creatures at all be a nuisance to his sort. Orcs were like that. Though, standing there clutching his double-bladed axe in waiting, she had to confess that orcs really did put humans in their place when it came to raw strength and admirably muscular physique. It was a shame that they were none too bright, smelled, and were ugly.
“Very well, Savages, Orcs, and Humans, prepare yourselves for the Dungeon of Wind, for I have found a place where I believe the first handmaiden is imprisoned. I opened the gates, but the gusts blew me back. We now go forth to do battle.” Upon her last words, she performed the incantation which opened a gateway into blackness and the unknown.
Upon entering the other side of the gate, the strange echo of wind carried through the cracks and crevices of this dim chamber. Weapons and spells at the ready, the party was assaulted by a host of both air elementals and some strange robed creatures whom they had never before seen. The creatures’ garb seemed woven of a silk so fine that it merely fluttered and fell back into shape upon the passing of a blade through it, and so it took many strikes to fell the creature. The beings were, it seemed, more susceptible to the attacks of energy coming from the few mages and orcish Mojoka in the band.
After clearing this room, it was deemed time to move forward down the dark hall to see what awaited them next.
“Keep your guard up, all of you,” Lucia had cautioned. “These halls have not lain undisturbed for so long because they were friendly and inviting. There will surely be much more deadly foes to come.”
“Skah! Meb ib surry fur da beastiez ib dey fynd meb,” scoffed the orcish mage, KurGrat.
Sharing an exaggerated look of skepticism, some unidentifiable voice drifted up from the handful of Vikings gathered to one side: “Aye, but I feel surrier fur ye muther, tha’ it was ye sha haed faer a sun…”
After taking six savages, two knights, and Gnark’Dul to stop a fight from occurring right then and there between the Vikings and the orcs, the party really did manage to move on till they reached another large chamber, where the next group of monsters had already had time to prepare for the attack. Blue robed Sky Mages summoned storms to strafe the assaulters. They unleashed powerful dragons whose wings created gusts of wind which continually knocked the adventurers back. After several injuries and a pressing struggle, the party finally claimed the second chamber.
Coming upon the third chamber, they were met with a counter-attack of Sky Warriors, gargantuan titans who dwarfed even Gnark’Dul. These beings were stronger even than the Sky Mages, and it took every bit of blood, sweat, and drive the adventurers possessed to defeat one wave of attack after another. Supporting the ranks of the Sky Warriors were another pack of Wind Dragons hammering at the alliance party with their fell gusts. Aerial servants pecked at their hands and their eyes.
When the last mutilated corpse fell with a thud to the ground, Lucia turned to the others and spoke. “Stay here, let me slip further up and see what awaits for us this time. If there is another ambush prepared, I can sneak back and warn you. Otherwise, the racket your lot would make would make stealth impossible.” And creeping into the shadow she went, only to return a few moments later with a strangely blank expression on her face.
Leaning against the cavern wall with arms crossed, she looked up the hall and said gravely, “Well, I hope you’re ready for a fight. Because it’s Segos down there on the other end of this hall, and I don’t think he’ll be going down without one. As a matter of fact, I don’t know that he’ll be going down at all. This is no ordinary dragon.”
“Skah! Lat nub ib jukking?” exclaimed Gnark’Dul.
“Afraid not.”
Looking over her shoulder, Lucia caught a Cove Savage pantomiming a chicken in her direction. “I am not a chicken!” she snarled. “This dragon is dangerous! He’s got the power and life of 30 dragons put together! He’s older than I am, and if the outcast god had him guarding this dungeon then there’s no doubt a handmaiden must be here! So we might as well just go in there and get it over with. If we die, we die. If we win, then good for us. Either way, we’re going in now.” With her skirts flowing, Lucia strode angrily back towards the dungeon’s end, the rest of the party in her wake.
When the knight Hector would tell the story of this adventure, many years later, he would always speak emphatically of that first moment he entered the final chamber. It seemed as if the party of adventurers had stepped into a floating island of existence, flying on the backs of stars. It was to see timelessness and walk upon antiquity. Even the sight of their foe, the ancient wyrm Segos, nearly made his virtuous heart weep for the beauty of shimmering blues and otherworldly surrealism which clung to the dragon’s mail coat. The serpentine creature’s body lay entwined between the unfamiliar structures of strangely wrought ships. Why would their be ships in this unworldly piece of the heavens, where no water would ever be found? Yet before his mind could ponder this question, the dragon’s ire had been roused, and the fell beast Segos was upon them.
The sheets of flame which fell across the stone pavers in waves brought scorching heat, and the winds cut into his flesh like knives, but Hector would not relent. The battle cries of his comrades were shouted, and the wyrm’s razor talons lashed out, cutting through plate armor like paper. The wound was deep. Hector felt his life seeping down through his surcoat, hot and sticky. Falling to his knees, the knight held himself up with his sword as he tried to staunch the blood flow, expecting no help from his embattled party members. Yet in that same moment, the sweet flood of health flowed into him from some benefactor’s healing spell. Looking up, he saw the orcish mage KurGrat finishing the spell. Till the day he died, that orc would probably deny ever doing such a thing for a “oomie”, but sometimes, you just have to bend the rules when the fate of bigger things are at stake.
Was it foolish to feel just a little of sadness to see the lordly dragon die? For it was still a thing of beauty, as ferocious at it was. And Segos only ever believed that he was serving the will of the gods. Yet all other concerns faded away as they looked upon the back of this floor to where Lucia shattered an ebony door, freeing the winged maiden trapped within.
Upon the maiden’s ageless face, there was the look of gratitude and relief. Even the murmurings of the adventurers trailed off, as they waited for someone to speak.
“I look upon the face of heroes this day, for I see the dragon slain and my bonds broken. In all the days and years I have lain here, hope had departed me, yet now the joy of life may return. Yet though I lay here trapped, my vision not of my eyes could sometimes still see of things which passed in this world. So it is that I know why you have come.
I will tell you of the fallen god, he who would maim creation. He sought to make many things that should not be, to twist the world to parallel his mind. Here you see one such example of these things. He would make ships which rode the air like water, by breaking and remaking what is “air”. It is good that the Lord Ryan outcast the wicked Robin, else surely the world would have been sundered.
I will return now to my Forest home, but first I will reveal to you that which you seek, for you have proven your worth this day:
In the wake of old gods, new gods would emerge into the Void.
A fragment of the shattered gem born into the darkness:
That which was taken in rage and of defiance,
A taint will remain within.
That is my quatrain of the Prophecy of Madness. I do not know anymore. You must rescue my fellow maidens, both to free them from this horror of imprisonment and to find the rest of the Prophecy. For know this: though I have known of your coming, there is also the coming of another entity which seeks to rival your purpose. He must fail where you succeed! I hope you find the other maidens safe, though I do not know where they be.
I return now to my home, farewell…”
Shimmering evanescence surrounded the lithe fairy as she vanished from the darkness. The first quest had been completed, and yet so much more remained yet to be done. The adventurers would return now to prepare for the next battle, yet even so they could not have know what malice awaited their next mission!
Mia-hybrid
Wanderer
Re: The Living Chronicle
Chapter 6 – Dungeon Water
“Uki. Ib web readie tu gu fur de quezt? Da urkz ur readie. Dat ib ull web realie neeb. De rest ib juzt panzee breedurz next tu urkz.” Scratching his bottom, the large orc yawned in boredom.
“Oh do be silent, Gnark’Dul. Yes, I believe this is everyone. Well, if you orcs think you are so great, I hope you can swim. Our next quest will lead us into a monster infested underground lake. I hear the sea serpents like the taste of orc.” As any man who’s been married more than a month will tell you, all women are born with the inherent ability to come within an inch of killing someone on the spot with a single glare. Dread Lady Lucia was especially practiced at this art, and put it to good use at this moment as she glowered at the offending orcish warrior.
“Do they like the taste of witches? I shall continue to hope so,” spoke the armored knight that joined them, his voice laced with disdain. “We doth not have all the years in a century to wait for thee to address this army. If thou canst not do this then perhaps I will lead the attack for you.”
“Not on your life, Galad,” spat Lucia. “We want them to rescue the guardian, not die in a miserable failure in the first battle because they were following a tin-can nincompoop.” Refusing to give Galad even a moment to retort, Lucia immediately spun around and stalked towards the strange assortment of adventurers, warriors, and mages which milled around before them. There were orcs in their barbaric armor and armed with their clumsy but brutal weapons, Savages who made their armor of the bones of those they had slain as a warning to all whom would fight them, Vikings clad in the hides of beasts, and armored Knights. There was even an Undead woman, ghostly eyes bleeding shadow and death from her gnarled and bony face.
“ATTENTION!” roared Lucia, and immediately the oddly assorted crowd turned their gazes towards the dark sorceress whom addressed them. “I have located what I believe to be a second place where a handmaiden of the Forest Queen is imprisoned. If we are to locate the second fragment of the prophecy, we must face whatever dangers lay within these halls and free her from the foul fate which my former master condemned her too.
I must warn ye again, my army, for it is imperative that though some of you may be enemies on any other battlefield, for this one cause you are united. If any is found to violate the treaty that has been made between all guilds in this army, you will rue the day that you placed yourself in the path of my wrath… Now, let us make war upon the Dungeon Water!
The moongate was drawn amidst the shouts and battlecries of the army, and the adventurers began the quest to rescue the second guardian of the Prophecy.
Stepping into the watery depths, orc and human alike were amazed at the dungeon into which they now tread. It seemed strange to see a place of such beauty as the work of such a heartless and terrible god. But the beauty of their surroundings did not lessen the ferocity of the creatures which they fought. Sea serpents, water dragons, and elementals fought to bar their way, keeping with the task they were assigned long ago by the renegade god.
Each level of the dungeon was guarded by new horrors. Upon descending the second stairway, the party was faced with what seemed nothing less than a tragedy. Humans and orcs alike saw their own races enslaved by darks spells, and ordered to guard the Handmaiden which had been imprisoned there.
Further into the dungeon lair, they faced mighty dragons that were serpentine in shape, and unleashed stormy tides to destroy the would-be heroes. Creatures half man and half snake attacked with poisoned blades.
Battling through the assault of scaled creatures, the party finally reached the lair of the dungeon master…
In the final hall of the cavernous dungeon, the makeshift army faced a loathsome creature which seemed to be made of nothing but a gaping maw seeking to devour them and countless tentacles to squeeze their very breath out. The slimy Triaquidon seemed to hardly feel any blows that he was dealt. Though Triaquidon possessed the life force of 30 dragons, the fighters continued to hammer him with blow after blow, till eventually it was the aqueous creature’s death cries that echoed across the cavern.
As the victors scoured the hall looting whatever treasures the fiend had collected in his long life, Lucia stepped up to the circular field of energies in the farthest corner, which appeared to encase something. Smiting the field, the swirling mists appeared to shatter like glass, revealing the fairy maiden trapped within.
“Blessed be the gods, for at last I am free!” the lovely winged woman exclaimed. “I have dreamed of being released from these chains. My gratitude to thee knows no bounds! Cursed forever be the name Robin, and cursed are his works which remain on this earth. Vile thing, he, that would bend the elements to his will.
All elements of the world were wrought by the gods to give this land its shape. One fallen god who dared, would enslave these elements, and through them, the world. Though the glorious god Ryan did halt his work before its completion, it was not before some had already been enslaved. Water is but one, Air you have freed and more yet remain. Alas, that I do not know where to lead you in this hunt. But I will share with you my quatrain:
Four ages will then come to pass upon the remade land.
The First will see the new land rise and flow with life anew,
The Second is the golden age of peace and glory to the gods.
The Third will be the advent of the taint.
That is my quatrain, but I must warn ye that – “ and her last word was barely more that a gasping cry of pain, as the blade of dark energy sliced through her, severing the poor creature’s life force.
“By the gods!”
“WUT DA SKAH!?!?!!”
“My LADY?!”
“What in the name of Odin?!”
“Stand back, all of you!” roared Lady Lucia. “At the ready!”
But the malicious laughter that echoed through the halls did not seem the least perturbed by the shocked and angry orcs and humans.
“I thank thee, little fairy, for thine pretty speech…” an insidious voice spoke from the shadows, and then what appeared to be a creature of dark elven descent stepped into the light. “My master will be pleased when I bring him the second quatrain of the prophecy!”
The Shadowspawn Magus’s eyes widened as he heard the taunts and challenges being cried out by the heroes below him.
“Fools! You mock me?!?! Prepare to die!”
And so, just when the adventurers thought they had won, so began the second battle for victory in the halls of the dungeon water. The Shadowspawn Magus was swift, teleporting from one side of the hall to the other, unleashing his wicked spells. But the small army outnumbered him by too much.
“Grrrr….. You’re stronger than I thought.” growled the fiend as he teleported to another side of the dungeon to unleash a volley of fireballs.
“Bah! I do not have time for this! My master awaits the quatrain! I will kill you before this is over…” And with a cloud of poisonous smoke, the dark man vanished from sight.
“Skah! Wut ib dat?!” snarled Gnark’Dul.
“I don’t know…” Lucia panted. “But I don’t doubt he works for that Morkai creature who appeared at the house of the hermit. Remember? He claimed would try to beat us to the prophecy for his own means.”
“That fiend! To slay a creature of such exquisite beauty and grace as the maiden, he will taste the wrath of my righteous blade er our tale meets its end. I shall quell the fire of his wretched evil with the just hand of virtue, and avenge this fair daughter of the forest’s untimely demise, this I swear! By all that is good and holy, our gentle companion shall not go to rest without the—“
“GALAD. SHUT IT. You’re going to send me to an untimely demise if you don’t stop rambling…”
“Yub! Meb tuu!” agreed Gnark’Dul the orcish warrior whole-heartedly.
“I should be so lucky…” muttered the knight under his breath.
Though the heroes were victorious in their mission to locate the second quatrain of the prophecy, it was with rage and disappointment at their failure to save the maiden that they picked their way over the corpses of their fallen enemy to return to their homes and await the next quest.
Chapter 6 – Dungeon Water
“Uki. Ib web readie tu gu fur de quezt? Da urkz ur readie. Dat ib ull web realie neeb. De rest ib juzt panzee breedurz next tu urkz.” Scratching his bottom, the large orc yawned in boredom.
“Oh do be silent, Gnark’Dul. Yes, I believe this is everyone. Well, if you orcs think you are so great, I hope you can swim. Our next quest will lead us into a monster infested underground lake. I hear the sea serpents like the taste of orc.” As any man who’s been married more than a month will tell you, all women are born with the inherent ability to come within an inch of killing someone on the spot with a single glare. Dread Lady Lucia was especially practiced at this art, and put it to good use at this moment as she glowered at the offending orcish warrior.
“Do they like the taste of witches? I shall continue to hope so,” spoke the armored knight that joined them, his voice laced with disdain. “We doth not have all the years in a century to wait for thee to address this army. If thou canst not do this then perhaps I will lead the attack for you.”
“Not on your life, Galad,” spat Lucia. “We want them to rescue the guardian, not die in a miserable failure in the first battle because they were following a tin-can nincompoop.” Refusing to give Galad even a moment to retort, Lucia immediately spun around and stalked towards the strange assortment of adventurers, warriors, and mages which milled around before them. There were orcs in their barbaric armor and armed with their clumsy but brutal weapons, Savages who made their armor of the bones of those they had slain as a warning to all whom would fight them, Vikings clad in the hides of beasts, and armored Knights. There was even an Undead woman, ghostly eyes bleeding shadow and death from her gnarled and bony face.
“ATTENTION!” roared Lucia, and immediately the oddly assorted crowd turned their gazes towards the dark sorceress whom addressed them. “I have located what I believe to be a second place where a handmaiden of the Forest Queen is imprisoned. If we are to locate the second fragment of the prophecy, we must face whatever dangers lay within these halls and free her from the foul fate which my former master condemned her too.
I must warn ye again, my army, for it is imperative that though some of you may be enemies on any other battlefield, for this one cause you are united. If any is found to violate the treaty that has been made between all guilds in this army, you will rue the day that you placed yourself in the path of my wrath… Now, let us make war upon the Dungeon Water!
The moongate was drawn amidst the shouts and battlecries of the army, and the adventurers began the quest to rescue the second guardian of the Prophecy.
Stepping into the watery depths, orc and human alike were amazed at the dungeon into which they now tread. It seemed strange to see a place of such beauty as the work of such a heartless and terrible god. But the beauty of their surroundings did not lessen the ferocity of the creatures which they fought. Sea serpents, water dragons, and elementals fought to bar their way, keeping with the task they were assigned long ago by the renegade god.
Each level of the dungeon was guarded by new horrors. Upon descending the second stairway, the party was faced with what seemed nothing less than a tragedy. Humans and orcs alike saw their own races enslaved by darks spells, and ordered to guard the Handmaiden which had been imprisoned there.
Further into the dungeon lair, they faced mighty dragons that were serpentine in shape, and unleashed stormy tides to destroy the would-be heroes. Creatures half man and half snake attacked with poisoned blades.
Battling through the assault of scaled creatures, the party finally reached the lair of the dungeon master…
In the final hall of the cavernous dungeon, the makeshift army faced a loathsome creature which seemed to be made of nothing but a gaping maw seeking to devour them and countless tentacles to squeeze their very breath out. The slimy Triaquidon seemed to hardly feel any blows that he was dealt. Though Triaquidon possessed the life force of 30 dragons, the fighters continued to hammer him with blow after blow, till eventually it was the aqueous creature’s death cries that echoed across the cavern.
As the victors scoured the hall looting whatever treasures the fiend had collected in his long life, Lucia stepped up to the circular field of energies in the farthest corner, which appeared to encase something. Smiting the field, the swirling mists appeared to shatter like glass, revealing the fairy maiden trapped within.
“Blessed be the gods, for at last I am free!” the lovely winged woman exclaimed. “I have dreamed of being released from these chains. My gratitude to thee knows no bounds! Cursed forever be the name Robin, and cursed are his works which remain on this earth. Vile thing, he, that would bend the elements to his will.
All elements of the world were wrought by the gods to give this land its shape. One fallen god who dared, would enslave these elements, and through them, the world. Though the glorious god Ryan did halt his work before its completion, it was not before some had already been enslaved. Water is but one, Air you have freed and more yet remain. Alas, that I do not know where to lead you in this hunt. But I will share with you my quatrain:
Four ages will then come to pass upon the remade land.
The First will see the new land rise and flow with life anew,
The Second is the golden age of peace and glory to the gods.
The Third will be the advent of the taint.
That is my quatrain, but I must warn ye that – “ and her last word was barely more that a gasping cry of pain, as the blade of dark energy sliced through her, severing the poor creature’s life force.
“By the gods!”
“WUT DA SKAH!?!?!!”
“My LADY?!”
“What in the name of Odin?!”
“Stand back, all of you!” roared Lady Lucia. “At the ready!”
But the malicious laughter that echoed through the halls did not seem the least perturbed by the shocked and angry orcs and humans.
“I thank thee, little fairy, for thine pretty speech…” an insidious voice spoke from the shadows, and then what appeared to be a creature of dark elven descent stepped into the light. “My master will be pleased when I bring him the second quatrain of the prophecy!”
The Shadowspawn Magus’s eyes widened as he heard the taunts and challenges being cried out by the heroes below him.
“Fools! You mock me?!?! Prepare to die!”
And so, just when the adventurers thought they had won, so began the second battle for victory in the halls of the dungeon water. The Shadowspawn Magus was swift, teleporting from one side of the hall to the other, unleashing his wicked spells. But the small army outnumbered him by too much.
“Grrrr….. You’re stronger than I thought.” growled the fiend as he teleported to another side of the dungeon to unleash a volley of fireballs.
“Bah! I do not have time for this! My master awaits the quatrain! I will kill you before this is over…” And with a cloud of poisonous smoke, the dark man vanished from sight.
“Skah! Wut ib dat?!” snarled Gnark’Dul.
“I don’t know…” Lucia panted. “But I don’t doubt he works for that Morkai creature who appeared at the house of the hermit. Remember? He claimed would try to beat us to the prophecy for his own means.”
“That fiend! To slay a creature of such exquisite beauty and grace as the maiden, he will taste the wrath of my righteous blade er our tale meets its end. I shall quell the fire of his wretched evil with the just hand of virtue, and avenge this fair daughter of the forest’s untimely demise, this I swear! By all that is good and holy, our gentle companion shall not go to rest without the—“
“GALAD. SHUT IT. You’re going to send me to an untimely demise if you don’t stop rambling…”
“Yub! Meb tuu!” agreed Gnark’Dul the orcish warrior whole-heartedly.
“I should be so lucky…” muttered the knight under his breath.
Though the heroes were victorious in their mission to locate the second quatrain of the prophecy, it was with rage and disappointment at their failure to save the maiden that they picked their way over the corpses of their fallen enemy to return to their homes and await the next quest.
- Status