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A Story Worth Saving Writing Contest

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5/29/2012 19:33:14   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!

Dearest Loreians,

The Truphma have but one purpose. They hate creativity. They hate imagination. And they hate it when people like you exercise such talents and skills. Every time you use your imagination, you hurt them, you deal a blow that sets them back. I hate that they found Lore, but it was inevitable. They are on a constant search for worlds to bend to their will, worlds to obliterate the wonder of dreams.

I ask you now, dearest Adventurer, to take the time to conjure a tale worthy of fighting the Truphma. The better the story, the greater the detail, the more creative it is, the weaker they will be. You can tell any story you want. If you desire to regale your participation in any of the activities, wars, and/or mysteries that has run rampant across Lore, then tell us what History may not have recorded. If you simply want to retell an adventure you had that may have happened "behind the curtains", then please do so.

I know, Adventurer, that with your imagination and talents, you can create a story that will deal a solid blow to the Truphma and continue to show them that Lore will NOT lay down, will NOT surrender, and will NOT give up. I have faith in you, dear Adventurer. Never forget that.

And, though it pains me to do this, the reward for the greatest tale is something no one else will ever have. There was a planet, far away from here that fought bravely, fought true, but they were not able to turn the Truphma away. The society had developed music, art, writing, and storytelling into a mastercraft. It was everything to them. When they fell, despite my best efforts to help save them, only one thing escaped unscathed. It has meant much to me, but if you can create a story that will deal a massive blow to the Truphma, then you will deserve such a reward for your efforts.

Thank you, Adventurer, for doing this. Your sacrifice and toil will not be forgotten.

With much appreciation and affection,

Eukara Vox

< Message edited by Alina -- 3/29/2016 21:52:45 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 1
5/31/2012 14:09:09   

AQ Character Name:Negapaw is account name, absolix is character name.
AQ Character ID:61202484
Name of your Story: Tale of Legend.

A old man in robes sat around in a tavern, drinking moglin berry smoothies, until a young couple came up to his table and sat across from him.
“Sir, Do you by any chance know the great story of Artix the Paladin?”
The boy asked, this brought a humorous twinkle to the old mans eye, before nodding. “Oh yes..that story brings back memories.”
The couple exchanged glances, then proceeded to ask there question.
“Sir, could you please enlighten us on the story?” The old man nodded, and began the story.

A lone adventurer stands on a cliff, staring forevermore, searching for the light he could no longer feel. Ever since Exodus rose from the ground once more, it has been years since he, or anyone else for that matter, has seen the sun.
His paladin armor no longer shined with glory like it used to, now its just a dull silver.
The only thing giving him hope…was the innocents of Lore.
‘What am I to do..’ the adventurer mused in his mind, shortly before he noticed a ball of intensified shadow fly past his head, the adventurer, now aware of imminent threat, reached for his axe, the Blinding Light of Destiny, only to be shocked that it was not where he left it, he then turned around to see Xitra holding the Blinding Light of Destiny, shortly before Xitra corrupted it with his anti-paladin power, turning it into the ShadowReaper of Doom.
Xitra threw the axe at Artix, only to have it grabbed and swung back at him, which missed him by a few inches.
Xitra, finding something amusing, began to laugh and stroke his evil beard.
Artix, never giving up hope, closed his eyes, and when he did, a mystical rune circle surrounded him.
“What..are you doing? Giving up already Artix?” Xitra teased.
Artix opened his eyes, raised his hands over his head, and summoned a spear of light, which Artix impaled Xitra with, stopping the evildoers laughter.
“I never give up…Ever. Not when there are so many innocent people I have to protect” Artix replied, slightly out of breath from overexerting himself with the magical spear.
Xitra, by now, was already decaying, Artix released his grip on the spear, letting Xitra fall to the ground, ungracefully.
Artix found the Blinding Light of Destiny, which was now returned to its original form since Xitra was no longer alive to power it with undead energy, and picked it up, before clipping it to the back of his Plate Paladin armor.
He then proceeded to make his way down the hill, into Battleon, towards Yulgars Inn.
He pushed the door aside with great effort, as he was exhausted from the battle.
“I’d like a Moglin Berry smoothie please..” Artix said as he sat down at the bar.
“One moglin berry smoothie for the towns hero, Coming up!”
Yulgar slid the smoothie over to Artix, which he stopped from falling off the counter and took a giant gulp out of it.
“I don’t even know why I drink these..” Artix questioned himself out loud.
“Because it’s the only non-alcoholic drink we have?” Yulgar replied.
Artix chuckled, then proceeded to rent a room for the night, headed upstairs and drifted off to sleep, not even bothering to take off his armor, which proved to give him back problems in the morning.
Artix woke up after a loud crash could be heard from outside, he immediately raced out of the inn only to find the town had been overrun with smaller versions of exodus, before exodus himself rose out of the ground, only to be greeted with Artix’s Blinding Light of Destiny imbedded in his foot, pinning his foot to the ground, Artix then proceeded to climb up exodus, battling monsters along the way, until he now stood on Exodus’s head, then Artix pounded the top of exodus’s head, only to get grabbed and thrown off of it.
Artix landed on the ground, followed by his Blinding Light of Destiny, which exodus tore out of his foot and tossed next to artix.
“Alright big fella…. I see how it is.”
Artix grabbed his axe, then again, climbed Exodus to the top of his head, almost getting flung off from Exodus stomping around on houses below.
Once Artix was at the top of Exodus’s head, Artix stabbed the Blinding Light of Destiny into Exodus’s head, which produced a beam of light that engulfed Artix and Exodus went flying into the sky, once again, letting the sun shine forever more.
Artix, never to be seen again, became a Hero of Legends.

And so the old man ends his story.
“But what happened to Artix? Did he die?”
A twinkle of light sparked off from under his robe, which he pulled away to reveal his Paladin armor and the Blinding Light of destiny, before Artix smirked.
“Oh I’m sure he’s still around here somewhere..”
The young couple gazed in awe, before Artix replaced his robe, and left the tavern, once again, to become a legend. But others shall follow…this is only one of many brave tales yet to unfold.

< Message edited by Shaden -- 6/1/2012 13:40:08 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 2
6/2/2012 4:30:14   
undead 0ne

character name: priestess undead
character ID: 82867725
name of your story: Artix(beginning story)

Once upon a war two alliances of good and evil are fighting for victory. One day the soldiers of good are not enough to fight. So the emperor of good started a law the every family should have one family member to join to be a soldier.

Once upon a time a teenager named Artix is always bullied. After the law has started the royal guard of the emperor goes to battleon. Every family have members to join artix talk to his father and said”can I join to be a soldier” but his father said “your too weak to join” so his father join but they didn’t accept to join because his to old so they doesn’t have a choice but to join Artix. Then they brought the chosen to the castle to be trained. It’s hard but he have a motivation is to be the greatest. After the training Artix is the left one and they brought him to the castle to have the honor from the emperor. And the emperor gave him the paladin armor and the blinding light of destiny and the emperor said” you are my new soldier now let’s plan before going to the evil alliance”.
Artix spy at the evil castle to now their plan but he is been caught by the bandits and monster and the evil ruler talk to Artix and said” join or we will kill your family” (but the ruler is to evil so they kill his family) so Artix join (but it is part of the plan) the ruler said “tonight we will ambush them”. Buy it happened oppositely they have been ambush with the emperor and his soldiers and said” this is all part of the plan and Artix is still at the good alliance”. So the good alliance wins and the ruler gave up and thrown to the prison but the ruler have the dark heart at him. The battleon is peaceful now and forever more.

THE END???????????????
Post #: 3
6/3/2012 18:03:01   
Sir Arceon

Drakonnax - the Next Generation(or Brother of the Dragons[edited version])

One fateful night, many years ago, a cloaked stranger walked up to the gates of Medrovia, the Vartai city which lay hidden in the Dragonspine mountains. In his hands, he held a basket. He set it down on the steps of the main gate, and placed a note inside. He took one last look at the basket's contents, knocked upon the great door three times, and, with a heavy heart, ran away as quickly as possible. Not two seconds later, the great door swung open.

Standing in the doorway were two Vartai swordsmen, their crimson and blue scales glittering in the pale moonlight. They looked down, and before them was a newborn human baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a basket with a note placed upon him. The red-scaled guard picked up the note and read it carefully. He looked to his companion, who nodded. The blue-scaled guard then proceeded to carefully pick up the basket, and, closing the door behind them, the two immediately took the basket to the quarters of Lord Cyrus himself.

"Lord Cyrus, sir, we found this human infant outside," said the blue-scaled guard, kneeling with the basket held up in his hands.
"He had this in the basket with him," said the red-scaled guard. "It's addressed to you." Cyrus took the note in his hand and began to read. His eyes widened with surprise at the note's contents, and he knew immediately what had to be done.
"Send word to Gaspar, Sheila, and Xerxes at once," he commanded. "Tell them I need to speak with them immediately."
"Yes, sir!" Said the two guards simultaneously, and they left at once, leaving Cyrus to watch the child.

As he watched the sleeping infant, Cyrus read the note again.
"To Lord Cyrus, High Khan of the Dracomancers and ruler of the Vartai," it said. "This is my son. I cannot raise him by myself, for I have many enemies who would seek to cease the continuation of my bloodline. Therefore, I leave him in your care. I know that you are a wise and just ruler, and, as such, you will raise him to be a great hero and a strong Dracomancer. Raise him not as your son, but as your brother, for I have always considered dragons my brethren, and I wish for him to, as well. I place all of my trust in you. -D"

Just as he finished, the doors to his quarters opened, and in walked his brothers, Gaspar and Xerxes, as well as his sister, Sheila.
"Keep that Behemoth alive; I'm not done with it yet!" Xerxes called out into the hall. He closed the door and turned to his brother. "This had better be good, Cyrus," he said in an irritated voice.
"Believe me, Xerxes," said Cyrus, "this is far more important than combat training. Look." He then gestured to the basket, and a collective gasp rose from his siblings.
"A child?" said Sheila, who pulled the blanket away from the infant's face.
"And a human child at that!" said Xerxes. Gaspar simply stared. He knew Cyrus very well. He knew he would never kidnap an innocent human, let alone a child.
"Cyrus," he asked, "where did you find this child?" Cyrus proceeded to tell his brothers and sister that the child had been mysteriously left on their doorstep, with a note. He then recited the letter without skipping a beat.

"As our brother? HA!" Laughed Xerxes. "What place could this human have among the Vartai? Look at him! He can't even lift a twig, let alone a sword!"
"He is only a baby, Xerxes," Sheila reminded her brother.
"Besides," Gaspar added, "humans age ten times as quickly as us. He should be capable of the finest of battles within only twenty years, perhaps fewer."
"But, until then," Cyrus cut in, "we shall raise him ourselves, as one of us. He shall be the fifth among us, and, hopefully, a great dracomancer."

Suddenly, the baby opened his eyes. He looked at Sheila, Gaspar, and Cyrus and smiled. The three smiled back, knowing that the child had bonded with them. Then the baby looked at Xerxes. He took in the sight of the muscular half-dragon warlord and his twin battleaxes. He might not have known what or who Xerxes was, but he was definitely scared at the sight. The poor infant began to cry. The three brothers began to worry, but Sheila knew what to do, somehow. She rocked the child's basket back and forth, and began humming an old lullaby that her mother, a wise Ice Dragon, sung to her every night for the first 50 years of her childhood. The child began to settle down, and slowly fell into a deep sleep.

Xerxes watched the child as his sister sang to it. Coldblooded half-dragon warlord as he was, even he could not turn away an infant. Besides, he knew that once the child reached the proper age, he could be trained as the finest warrior. Xerxes smiled at the thought. His little brother, a human! Fighting alongside him in battle would certainly be a pleasure. He nodded to the rest of his siblings, letting them know of his approval.

"So be it, then," said Cyrus. He carefully unwrapped the child's left hand, and placed his own upon it. The rest of his siblings did the same. They held their hands there and focused. A few moments later, their hands lifted away to reveal something they all, now including the child, shared: the Black Claw of the High Khan. Now, he was one of them. They all looked at the child for a few minutes without speaking.
Then Xerxes chimed in, "Just so you all know, I am not changing any diapers."

The next fifteen years flew by quickly. The boy, whom they named Drake, grew up into a fine young warrior. His spirit was outshined only by the joy which always shone in his eyes, which were as blue as a Water Dragon's scales. Just as they had promised, the four raised him as their brother. Xerxes trained him in combat, Gaspar taught him swordsmanship, Sheila showed him how to use all types of elemental magic, and Cyrus tutored him in dracomancy, where, as Cyrus predicted, he showed the most talent.

Drake was able to bond with dragons quite easily. In fact, when he was only a few months into the age of five, one Vartai scout reported seeing him in the Skraeling Desert, making sandcastles with a Sand Dragon! But, as much as Drake loved dragons, he knew that there were some in the world whose greed and lust for power had caused them to turn down the path of evil, as he found out many times over the years with such villains as the Dragon King and Shearhide. With this knowledge, he decided to learn how to slay dragons from Galanoth, so that he could fight evil dragons if the need ever arose. Though he hated killimg dragons, he always did what he needed to do. In the end, Drake became a well balanced and skilled hero. None were prouder than his surrogate siblings when he became a Guardian, except for the mysterious, cloaked figure who watched from the shadows.

Drake had always felt out of place among the Vartai. He knew that he was not one of them, yet they accepted him. He'd always had nagging questions at the back of his head.
Who am I? Who are my real parents? Where are they? Why did they abandon me? He asked himself these questions many times, wanting nothing more than answers. Sometimes, Cyrus and the others could overhear him asking himself these questions. They knew that they had to tell him the truth eventually, so it was no surprise to them when Drake confronted Cyrus.

"Cyrus, I know we aren't truly brothers," he said, "but I feel like I can place my trust in you."
So, thought Cyrus, the day has come. The two sat down, and Cyrus explained how Drake had been left at Medrovia's gates that fateful night. Then, he pulled out the note, and handed it to Drake, who read it slowly and carefully.
"D? Is that... my father's initial?" Drake stared at the note and read it over and over, until a tear began to form in the corner of his eye. Cryus put his hand on Drake's shoulder.
"Listen, Drake," he said, "even if you aren't one of us..." he paused to lift Drake's left hand and removed the gauntlet, revealing the Black Claw, then continued, "...you're still my brother."
Then, as if on cue, Gaspar, Sheila, and Xerxes, who overheard, each stepped out, one by one, and said in turn, "And mine." Drake looked at his surrogate siblings and smiled. Even if he didn't know who his father was, he knew he still had a family in them.

One day, the Dragonslayers and the Dracomancers recieved word that a villain of some kind had been reanimating Dracoliches, and rumor had it that he was planning on using them to assault Battleon. Drake, who hated seeing dragons used for evil, donned his Golden Dragonslayer Eclipse armor, equipped his Light Dragon Blade and Dragonslayer Shield, and went on the hunt, alone. When he made it to the southern region of Darkovia, where the villain had been spotted, he half-expected an ambush. Instead, a cloaked stranger stepped out, as if to greet him.
"You, there!" shouted Drake. "Are you the one who has been disturbing these dragons' eternal slumber!?"
"Indeed I am," said the stranger, "and for that, I am sorry." Drake was confused by this. A necromancer SORRY about raising the dead? Who was this guy?

The stranger walked up to Drake and slowly lifted his helm, revealing Drake's brown hair, blue eyes, and confused face.
"Just as I thought," the stranger said. "It is you, after all. You've grown into a fine young man." Drake was so confused that he simply acted on instinct, lifting the stranger's hood from his face and revealing the most horrifying mask he'd ever seen! Stumbling back in shock, Drake pointed his Light Dragonblade at the stranger's mask, whick resembled Drakonnan's, only a much darker crimson, with two smaller horns above the forehead. The stranger paused a few moments, then lifted the mask, revealing a middle-aged man, with dark black hair, dull brown eyes, and a thin goatee. He seemed somehow familiar to Drake, but he pushed these thoughts aside. He knew he had to focus on the matter at hand
"Who are you!?" Drake asked, ready for battle.
The stranger looked slightly sad, and said, "You mean you don't even recognize your own father?"

Drake was taken aback by this. My father? he thought. Impossible!
"You lie!" Drake shouted angrily. "You're not my father! My father couldn't have been a necromancer!" The stranger sighed.
"Trust me, son, necromancy isn't the finest of arts," he said, "but it has its benefits." Drake was completely outraged at the stranger. How dare he claim to be my father!? he thought angrily. Drake rushed at the stranger, Light Dragonblade in hand, screaming in rage. The stranger gasped and leapt aside. Before Drake could swing again, the stranger grabbed the sides of his head and cried in desperation,
"Please, son, just try to remember!" Drake was still outraged, but calmed down long enough to fish out the memories he had long forgotten.

He remembered his father carrying him in a basket as a baby, running from a wave of flames and lightning. He remembered his father putting him down on the steps of Medrovia, and how he had a sad look on his face. His face... the stranger's face! It was the exact face of his father! Drake gasped in shock, returning to the present. Neither him nor his father spoke for several minutes. Finally, Drake said the one name he'd been waiting to call someone for fifteen years.

At last, Drake had reunited with his father. There was hugging, tears, the whole shebang. Drake's father explained that he was actually Drakonnax, the long-lost brother of the original Drakonnan. When Drakonnan II and Drakonnas found out, they assaulted Drakonnax, blaming him for the death of Drakonnan the first's parents. In an act of desperation, he had left his only son to be raised by the Vartai, whom he trusted greatly.
"I didn't want you to get hurt, son," he explained. "They could've killed you to get to me."

Drake didn't hate his father for leaving him. He knew it was only to protect him. Drakonnax also explained that the dragons he reanimated were old friends of his, and that he just wanted to see them again. He wasn't going to use them to harm anyone, on that he gave his word. They knew that Drakonnax would have to remain in hiding, so Drake wasn't completely upset when his father told him that he had to leave again.

Just as Drakonnax replaced his mask and was about to pull his hood back over it, Galanoth and Artix burst into the clearing.
"At last," said Artix gleefully, "the necromancer! I look forward to killing you, watching you turn into a lich, and killing you again!"
"Not to mention slaying all those undead dragons!" Galanoth said with as uch glee as his paladin comrade.
"But first," he continued, "we'll deal with you!" Artix prepared a Sunburst, while Galanoth called the Fire Dragon.
"No!" shouted Drake. "You don't understand!" But it was too late. The two released their attacks, which combined into a burst of burning light. Drake knew immediately what had to be done. He lept in front of his father, using his body as a shield.
"What are you doing!?" Artix, Drakonnax, and Galanoth asked in unison.
Drake replied simply, "Saving my dad!" The last thing he knew was a horrible burning sensation all over his body, and the world turning black.

Drake awoke about two seconds later, only to see Death rowing up to him on the river of souls.
"Well, lookee here," Death said. "If it isn't Drakonnax's boy!"
Drake was surprised. "You knew my father?" he asked.
"Do I ever!" Death replied. "If I had a thousand Gold for every favor he owed me, I'd be rich!" Death pulled the gondola over. "Of course, what with all the favors he owes me, I need some collateral," Death said with a grin. Reluctantly, Drake stepped forward, but before he could get in, he found hiself standing in a beam of light.
"Oh, no," said Death angrily, "not again!" Drake slowly rose, and next thing he knew, he heard his father's voice. "Son! Son, wake up!"

Drake slowly opened his eyes. Looking up, he saw his father, who had taken off his mask, as well as Cyrus, Sheila, Gaspar, Xerxes, Galanoth, and Artix, all standing around him. He felt dizzy for some reason.
"What... happened?" he asked wearily. Artix and Galanoth exchanged a look of guilt.
"We sort of..." Artix began. "...killed you," finished Galanoth.
"And I... reanimated you," Drakonnax explained. Drake took a few seconds to take this in.
"I'm... undead?" He noticed that Artix had a look of guilt, sadness, and stress all at once. It must've been tough on the poor guy, seeing one of his friends turned undead, and it must've been even tougher resisting the urge to kill him again.

Drake stood up and looked at his reflection in his shield. The attack of his friends had completely singed all the flesh off his head, leaving only a bare skull, while the rest of his skin was burned black. He then regretted not putting his helm back on. Drakonnax walked up to his now undead son.
"I'm sorry, son," he said, "but I owed Death too much; he wouldn't have let you come back. I had no choice."
"I'm not mad because I'm undead, Dad," Drake said, "I'm upset because now, I really have no place with Cyrus and the others." He pulled what was left of the gauntlet off his left hand. He couldn't even distinguish the Black Claw of the High Khan from the rest of his hand now! Drake angrily pounded his fist against a nearby tree.

Sheila walked up behind him and took his left hand. She focused on what little Luminomancy training she had done. Drake felt a burning sensation on the back of his hand. After a few seconds, Sheila lifted her hand. Drake looked and saw that now, the Black Claw had been turned white, and it was visible on his now-charred hand! He paused for a moment.
"Thank you, sister," he said. Sheila smiled. Undead or not, Drake still considered himself her brother, and they all knew it.

And so, Drakonnax went back into hiding, and Drake, Cyrus, Sheila, Gaspar, and Xerxes all returned to Medrovia, their home. Drake made himself a white Drakonnan-style helm, and took his father's name. Now, the rest of the world would know him as Drakonnax II, the first undead dracomancer. He finally knew who he was, and he felt even stronger for knowing. One thing was for certain; after learning his past, Drakonnax was more than ready for the future.


< Message edited by Drakonnax -- 6/26/2012 11:14:30 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 4
6/4/2012 21:32:11   
Beshin Adin

Well, 10 pages, like the rules said. Good luck, Seta.

AQW character name: Noelzal
AQW character ID: 7788225
Title: Destiny of Frozen Earth – Book I: Chaos Within the Ice

Now this story takes place long ago in Lore’s history. In ancient times, the element of Ice was among the most powerful elements in existence. But, the hearts of the elemental Ice Kings were as pristine as a freshly fallen snow, and the humans of Lore were treated as their dear children. This is the story of a young man who believed and learned from his Hero, the Champion of Ice, and how the great glaciers of fate melted, and revealed Lore’s destiny.

The heavenly song wafted out of the cathedral, and faded into the morning air. Inside, up at the podium at the altar, the young man proudly finished a hymn taught to humanity by the Ice Kings years ago. The man was young, 18, barely out of his boyhood. His hair was jet black, and grew down to his shoulders. His eyes were stone gray, the complete opposite of the vibrancy in his singing voice. He wore a fur parka, with leather gloves and boots. With this continuous Ice Age, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that a great change was about to bless Lore.
The minister walked up to the singer. “Beautiful song, Seta. I could’ve sworn that your voice was even melting the icicles.” Seta nodded his head. “Thank you, Reverend. I will see you next week.” He went for the door, but the minister stopped him. “Seta, I am curious. You always seem to be in a hurry, and no one knows why.” Seta grinned slightly. “Isn’t it obvious? We all know that this Ice Age is the Ice Kings’ way of telling us that the world is changing. I, personally, feel my own destiny tugging at me. If a world-changing event happens, I want to be there for it.” The minister let go of Seta’s sleeve. “I see. Then, I shall pray that you uncover your destiny. May the great Ice Queen, Yuki-Onna, guide you.” Seta said goodbye to the minister, and headed off on his way.
Seta wasted no time when he heard the woman’s scream. After hurrying, he saw her in an alley. She had five attackers, two were holding her arms, two were holding her legs, and one was advancing on her with a malicious grin. She wore the same attire as Seta. After all, one didn’t have much choice in clothing during Lore’s Ice Age. The girl had a petite body, standing 3 or 4 inches shorter than Seta. She had frizzy silver hair, and deep purple irises. There was no mistake; it was Seta’s childhood friend, Aldmava. Even if he had to fight them all bare-handed, Seta wasn’t going to let his friend lose her innocence to a bunch of scumbags like that. He stepped towards them, but backed off as a gigantic, ice-covered hammer slammed into the ground.
The wielder of the hammer was a giant of a man, standing about 7 or 8 feet tall. His build was a combination of muscular and chubby. Like Seta and Aldmava, he wore the standard cold weather attire. His head was covered in a leather hood; shrouding his face in shadow, save for his two glowing green eyes. His weapon was a large, one-handed hammer, which looked like five times the weight Seta was capable of lifting. It was covered all over with thin patches of ice, and had icicles growing from it like spikes. Seta could tell the giant’s identity from the legendary weapon alone. This was Negafok, the Champion of Ice.
Negafok’s voice was scratchy, like an old man’s, but quite loud. “Let go of the young lady,” he bellowed. Negafok didn’t need to say anymore, the thugs weren’t going to question a giant with a spiked hammer. They quickly took their hands off of Aldmava, and skittered away like scared kittens from bathwater. Negafok, though trying to be gentle, thundered over to the shocked girl. “Did those louts hurt you?” At this point, Seta stepped forward. A combination of excitement and wonder brewed within his heart. Was this the sign everyone had been waiting for? Was Lore finally about to enter a new era? “Master Negafok, why are you here?” Seta asked, in a voice absent of fear. Negafok turned to Seta, think that maybe one of the thugs had enough guts to not run away. “Your bones wouldn’t have to break if you ran away like your gang,” Negafok growled as he raised his hammer. At this point, Aldmava quickly got up, and tugged on Negafok’s coat. “No, Master. He is Seta, my friend,” her cheeks turned a bit pink, “he must’ve come to rescue me when he heard me scream.” Negafok lowered his hammer, and looked at Seta. “I was wondering why he was so much younger than the others. I got to say, son, it was foolhardy to charge in bare-handed. Don’t you know these street thugs usually carry knives?”
Everyone in the tavern was looking at the giant sitting at the table with two young people. Negafok had ordered a large helping of rice wine, Seta had ordered a pork sandwich, and Aldmava had ordered just some tea for herself. “Thanks for paying, Seta,” Negafok said, “If you’re just a choir boy, where’d you get all that scratch?” Seta smiled. “In order to make money, they send me to the Spirits and Elementals in nature. I negotiate with them, and they agree to allow humans to build on their land.” Negafok looks at Seta, impressed. “The spirits listen to you? I’ve lived a long time, so I know that spirits only listen to special people.” Then, Aldmava piped up. “Usually, after Seta sings to them, they calm right down.” The pink returned to her cheeks. “His voice is like the first scarlet cardinal after a snowfall.” Seta and Negafok stared at Aldmava, who was now stuck in her daydream. “………….Anyway. Sing, Seta. You’re among friends.” Negafok said. Seta got up from his chair. “Actually, there IS a song stuck in my head right now. Besides, Master Negafok wants me to. So…..”
Nari tuga ma sika
Yere musa negana
Kema siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
Kema siiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
Kema sii, aratuna kasu
Aratuna kasu……..
Aldmava promptly fainted. The entire tavern had gone quiet. After all, the entire town knew Seta for his voice. “Serenade of the Snow Tiger,” Negafok said, “a beautiful love song in the language of our ancestors.” He looked at Aldmava. She was on the floor, unconscious, blushing, and foaming at the mouth. “I guess it still works.”
Negafok and Seta soon left to take Aldmava home. Seta carried her in a princess cradle, for he was taught that, if a woman needs to be carried by a man, then the man should carry her in a princess cradle. “Master?” Seta asked, “you never answered my question from earlier. Why are you here? Is something going to happen?” Negafok kept looking straight ahead. “The Ice Kings are getting ready to end the Ice Age. Lore’s population is becoming too great to stay in one spot. I am to make giant ice bridges across the sea, so that humans may colonize Lore’s untouched continents.” Seta took a minute to comprehend this. “How big is Lore?” Negafok smiled, although his hood masked it. “Big………” Then, he paused, and sighed. “But, that’s not my only mission. Seta, have you ever heard of Wahkahnee?” Seta retraced his memory. “As a little girl, she naively destroyed a spirit important to the Ice Kings. As a result, Lore was beset by a worldwide blizzard as punishment. The people found out, and turned her in to the Ice Kings. They took her, and froze her in ice, until the day her heard could be free of anger.” Negafok nodded. “And have you heard of Chaos?” This time, Seta nodded. “It is the combined negativity of all the elements, sometimes called Element X.” Negafok stopped walking, and Seta stopped with him. “………….What if I told you that Wahkahnee’s heart has been saturated with Chaos, and she used her new powers to escape her ice prison? She now seeks revenge on humans who delivered her to justice.” Seta’s grip on Aldmava tightened a little. “Y-you talk as if she’s not a human.” Negafok closed his eyes. “Not anymore. She is now a horribly disfigured creature, somewhere between living and undead. Chaos has given her the power to invoke terrible curses, from on individuals to entire lands. She also is raising an army of chaorrupted spirits. We need an army of spirits to fight back. Seta! You can communicate with spirits! We need you!” Seta’s eyes widen. “Me? But Master, can’t you communicate with spirits?” Negafok gets a pained look in his eyes. “………….No. Wahkahnee has cursed me. My ability to see and hear the spirits is gone. At least she left me with my ice powers. But, Seta, this may mean that you’re the only one who can save us.” Seta said nothing. He was waiting for a great destiny, but he expected something like leading a heroic expedition, not saving the world from an evil, undead witch. His eyes fell to Aldmava’s face. He admitted, he loved her since they were 8, an entire 10 years ago. He would do anything for her future. “……………..Alright, Master. Let’s take Aldmava home, and we’ll visit the local spirit grove in the morning.”
The sun barely had streaks of light in the sky when Seta and Negafok entered the grove. “These are Earth spirits,” Negafok said. “I can tell by the plants not dying in the cold. They’re not even evergreens, so it must be Earth.” Seta found a clearing in the grove, the gentle hum in the air indicated the presence of spirits. So, to call them, he began singing.
Ika sa
Ika sa
Ika sa naitu do gasure
Ika sa bii kii aanteru
Punev aga riso………
Flecks of yellowish light began appearing, and the air started filling with giggles. “Spirits, I implore you,” Seta begged, “an evil witch plans to begin a war of spirits in order to exterminate humanity. Please, help fight to save us.” The spirits spoke calmly, as if they’ve already discussed this. “Seta, Earth and Ice Element are, was, and forever will be, on the side of the humans. You are like our children. We will not allow you to fall.” Seta smiled. But before he could thank them, he fell to the ground, screaming. “Seta! What’s happening?!” Negafok cried. Seta clutched his heart. “This feeling! So dark! So dreadful!” The giant man gasped. “Oh no! She’s here! Seta, prepare yourself!”
Seta found himself floating in a pitch-black world. The only visible things around him were writhing, purple tentacles. “Who are you?” a woman’s silky voice hissed. Seta looked around, but he could see no one. “I ask again, who are you?” the voice repeated, sounding more annoyed. Seta had figured it out; she couldn’t curse him if she didn’t even know his name. “You don’t need to know who I am,” Seta said, “but I can guess who you are. Show yourself, Wahkahnee!” Wahkahnee chuckled. “No go on that request. After all, it’s only telepathy. I assume that you’ve come at the wishes of that snow gorilla, Negafok. Did you humans really think that crossing me wouldn’t come with irreversible consequences? By the end of this Ice Age, the snow will be crimson with human blood.” Seta had a determined look on his face. “That’s assuming that you’ll win this upcoming war.” Seta’s determination did not stop the mocking confidence in Wahkahnee’s voice. “It’s a simple fix. You’re the last one who can talk to the sprits. I just need to kill or declaw you, and humanity is sunk. I do love games, though. Keep running young one. I’ll catch you soon.” After that, the Chaos began fading into light, and Seta began to see the grove again.
“Seta?” Negafok whispered as the young man opened his eyes. He was being carried on Negafok’s back as they returned to town. “She’s after me,” Seta said, “Wahkahnee knows full-well that I’m the last hope………..Master, I’m leaving town with you. If I stay, she’ll come here. She’ll kill everyone who hides me………”
The scene in the village was serene. A small, little flock of snowbirds were roosting on the ground, eating frost-resistant grass seeds, and enjoying the peace and quiet. Then, the eardrum-wrecking sound of a slamming door rang throughout the town, sending the birds retreating into the sky.
Seta was standing outside the slammed door to someone’s room, his eyes blank, and a few beads of sweat on his forehead. Negafok sighed. “You just HAD to tell her that we weren’t bringing her, didn’t you?” Seta was pretty shocked. “It’s not like Aldmava to do this. She’s usually so emotionally restrictive.” “I think that both of you weren’t done growing up,” Negafok said, “you seemed to grow some resolve back in the grove. Maybe she grew some assertiveness recently.” A woman came up to them both. She had deep purple eyes, and frizzy hair, like Aldmava’s. But, her hair was charcoal black; Aldmava’s silver hair had come from her father. This woman was, of course, her mother. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Master Negafok. Allie can be a tomboy on rare occasions. Would you two like breakfast before you set off?”
After eating, Negafok excused himself. “When this is over, I’ll have to come back for some more of your peach juice.” Aldmava’s mom smiled. “Thank you,” she said. But, then her smile faded. “There’s no point in telling Seta’s parents, he was left in our whole town’s care.” Negafok got a pained look in his eyes. “…………I know.” Seta opened the door, and saw the large sack waiting for them. The sack had a tag that read:
Supplies for journey. Handle with EXTREME care. -Aldmava
She had signed her name with a heart surrounding it. Seta’s cheeks went pink, and he smiled. “Master, this bag is too much for me, if you please.” Negafok slung the bag over his shoulder, they waved goodbye, and started on their way. Soon. Both Aldmava’s mom and the entire town were out of sight. “Don’t worry, Seta,” Negafok said after a while, “when this war is over, and we destroy Wahkahnee, you can come back. And we WILL destroy Wahkahnee! “
As Seta and Negafok were travelling through a grove of alpine trees, Seta noticed something highly peculiar. The sack of supplied that Aldmava had given them was beginning to undulate and writhe. Since it was hanging from Negafok’s back, he noticed it, too. “Perhaps a pantry rat snuck into the sack?” Seta suggested. “If that’s the case,” Negafok said, “we’d better remove it before it eats or contaminates all of our food……….We’re far from town, and it’s freezing out here. We’ll have to hold onto the rat until we get to another town, then we can release it.” Negafok smiles at Seta’s surprised look. “I consider all life precious. It’s why I became the Champion of Ice……..Anyway, come out, little rodent.” Negafok opened the bag, and Aldmava burst out, gasping for air. “Didn’t make enough……..air holes……..” Seta and Negafok both stare with blank eyes. “A-Aldmava?” Seta squeaked. After wiggling the sack off of her foot, Aldmava marched up to Seta, glaring into his eyes, and poking his chest with her finger. “The old Aldmava would say ‘Be safe Seta. Come back home soon.’ The old Aldmava would be too scared to leave town with you guys. But you’re talking to the new Aldmava now. And the new Aldmava says ‘You’re NOT leaving without me!’ Master Negafok may be the Champion of Ice, but you two aren’t going to put me on the sidelines!” Seta said nothing, and Negafok sighed. “I was right, she DID grow up quickly. Well, they say that there’s no force in the world stronger than estrogen. We’ll do things her way. But Aldmava, for now, if the enemy shows up, you stay with Seta, and let me handle it. Why? Because I have a hammer that weighs more than the both of you together!” Aldmava nodded, with a bit of intimidation, and the now three-strong party continued on their way.
The grove eventually thickened into an alpine forest. Soon, the canopy of the trees was so dense; sunlight was barely reaching the ground. But, that wasn’t what was bothering Negafok. “There’s Chaos in the air,” he whispered, “she was here. Stay close.” Aldmava held Seta’s hand tightly, and threw her arms around his neck when she started hearing the snarling. “Something’s stalking us,” she squeaked, “something not human.” Seta, though surprised at Aldmava’s sudden reversion back to her usual self, wrapped his arms protectively around her, and watched the shadows as Negafok adopted a battle stance.
The creature stepped out of the shadows to fight. It was a strange creature. Except for its head and hands, it had the body of a man without clothing. Its skin had a light, but pale blue tone to it. Its hands were bear paws, complete with a bear’s vicious nails. Its head, or rather, heads were those of two bears, both with needle-like fangs rather than a bear’s normal, cone-shaped teeth. Unlike its skin, its fur was brown, which was normal for bears in the area. Negafok lifted his hammer. “I know this trick. It is actually two spirits sharing one physical form. Seta, Aldmava! Stay back, it’s been chaorrupted! Let me handle it!” But, the spirit showed that it had no interest in Negafok. It raised its claws, and charged straight at Seta could only hug Aldmava protectively as he defiantly watched the beast rush at him. Negafok had made a mistake. He had assumed that the beast would target him, and therefore was in a position where he couldn’t save Seta in time. All could only watch.
Suddenly, a large tree root sprang from the ground, and tied up the charging monster. The yellowish Earth spirits appeared all around Seta, and a sword materialized in front of him. “Seta!” the spirits cried, “this is not a regular monster battle! This is an assassination attempt, and you’re the target! We’re sorry, but if this is going to keep up, then Negafok might not be able to defend you every time! You’re going to need to defend yourself! We got that sword from the Earth Kings themselves! Use it!” The sword had a thick, black handle, and a round, golden hilt with blunt spikes. The blade was shaped like a half-triangle, with a small, extra handle on the blunt side for another gripping surface. It needed that handle, because the sword was clearly too big and heavy for one hand. Seta was reluctant at first, but glanced at Aldmava hiding her face in his chest, and his resolve made his decision for him. He grabbed the sword, one hand on the bottom handle, and one hand on the blade handle, and walked up to the bound monster. The idea of striking down a helpless opponent didn’t sit well with Seta. But, this monster was specifically targeting him; it was an agent of Wahkahnee. This was for the future of Lore! In one swipe, Seta split the monster down the middle. The beast’s body disintegrated and two little spirits hurriedly escaped.
“Seta! Nice!” Negafok shouted happily. “Was that your first time swinging a sword? You came down like an osprey!” Aldmava couldn’t believe her eyes, either. A beautiful voice, AND skills with a sword? HE. WOULD. BE. HERS! Seta himself was in wonder. The pulsing power of Earth was in this sword. Inside, he felt like he was lying on a heated rock. But, along with his body, his resolve felt refreshed. He actually felt ready to fight a war now. Then, Seta felt the Chaos, and knew what it meant. “Negafok, she’s back!”
Once again, Seta found himself in the lightless world with all the purple tentacles. “Ha ha ha,” Wahkahnee’s voice came from the shadows. “My, you can already fight now. You’re a fast learner, young one. It’s a shame that there weren’t men like you around when I was your age. However, when I was your age, the Ice Kings had me locked away in that deplorable frozen prison.” Seta smirked in the direction of her voice. “You scared, Wahkahnee? You should be. I’m coming for you.” A low and venomous snicker filled the darkness. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, you child. Remember that you’re a human, and there are millions of ways to break humans. For example, who’s the pretty young thing you and Negafok are travelling with now?” Seta’s smirk faded. “Can you protect both her, and yourself?” Suddenly, the Earth spirits appear alongside Seta. “He is not alone, Wahkahnee. We pledge our loyalty to him” Wahkahnee’s voice responded with thick, mocking sarcasm. “Oh dear. A handful of spirits that can make plants play. I stand no chance.” Seta stepped forward. “All of us will find you, Wahkahnee. When we do, you will be destroyed. There is no other future. This WILL happen.” Wahkahnee huffed. “Alright. I’m growing tired of your delusions, young one. Be gone from my world……He he. Don’t despair. We shall talk again.”
Seta awoke to Aldmava repeatedly poking his forehead. He opened his eyes. “Aldmava, I don’t know what you’re doing, but would you stop?” Aldmava smiled. “I knew the poking would work.” Negafok sighed. “Says the one who started screaming when Seta fainted.” Aldmava got an annoyed look on her face, and covered her cheeks with her hands to hide her blush. “Seta,” she asked, “what just happened anyway?” Seta tried to give her as calming a look as possible. “What if I told you that we were fighting an insane undead witch who seeks revenge on humanity for her past imprisonment? She has the power to lay terrible curses on people if she knows their name, and she controls an army of chaorrupted spirits. Also, she can use chaotic power to telepathically communicate with her enemies. If she’s not stopped, she will exterminate us all.” Aldmava was stark white. “What?” she said. “What did you think we were doing? Picking daffodils for the town banquet?” Negafok asked. “What have I walked into?” Aldmava said with a shudder.
After what seem like miles, the three finally came to the ocean’s edge. Aldmava had never been to the ocean before, and she was captivated. “Wow, and I was about to say I regret coming…….” Then, she slipped off her boot, rolled up her pant leg, and went to the ocean’s edge. She stuck her foot in the water, and then retracted it with a yelp. “Eek! Freezing cold!” Seta looked out at the horizon. “Master,” he asked, “how many continents are out there?” Negafok went up to his knees in water, which would have come up to an average person’s navel. “The Earth Kings will eventually meld most of Lore into one giant landmass. But, that might take who knows how long. Which is where my power comes in. Aldmava, go wait on shore with Seta.” Once she was clear, Negafok took a few deep breaths. Then, he raised his icy hammer, and struck the water. The resulting sound could silence thunder. An opaque sheet of ice stretched extensively from east to west, and glided across the sea, from Negafok’s position to somewhere beyond the farthest reaches of sight. “People will find this bridge eventually,” Negafok said, “and use this and the other ones I make to colonize our beautiful world. But, for now, it’s all ours. Come, young ones, it’s time to see the lands to the south of here.” Seta was so amazed, he was speechless. So, this was the power of an elemental Champion. Aldmava was just as shocked, but then re-clothed her leg, and climbed up on the ice bridge. Seta and Negafok followed her, and the three set off on the new megalith of ice.
After travelling for a while, Aldmava noticed something in an adjacent in-fold in the ice that put the sea close to them. It was a large, black dorsal fin, roughly six feet tall. Aldmava had heard stories about this creature, so she screamed, and ran to Seta and Negafok. “Seta! Master! A giant shark! I just saw a giant shark!” Negafok looked at the creature in question, then chucked. “No, Aldmava. That creature is called an orca. It is a majestic black and white creature of Water. It comes to ice flows in search of food. Sorry, big guy, but no seals here yet. Hey Seta. They say that orcas can communicate through song. Try singing to it.” Communicate through song? Seta had never heard of such a creature. His curiosity was peaked; he wanted to see this orca. Seta closed his eyes, chose a song, and started singing:
Meta re, kaga re
Shiza re, kaga re
No gata, suma fa
Kaga re, kaga re……..
The orca disappeared underwater. After a few seconds, it shot into the air in a breach, revealing its splendor to them all. Aldmava had never seen something so beautiful before. It was also hauntingly romantic, as she found herself holding Seta’s hand. Seta was also transfixed. He thought that the only non-humans out there were spirits and monsters. This creature wasn’t a spirit, and it seemed too fantastic to be a monster. “I think it liked your song,” Negafok whispered, “maybe you were an orca in another life.” Seta smiled at that. Spending your life in the water, making and listening to songs all day. He was beginning to envy the life of an orca.
Finally, the other shore was in sight. And not a moment too soon, Seta and Aldmava were suffering because their clothes were too heavy for the stronger southern sun. Since Negafok was the Champion of Ice, his body was at perpetual freezing temperatures, and he felt no discomfort. “Master,” Aldmava complained, “you’ve been around the world before. Isn’t there any place we can get warm-weather clothes?” Negafok thought about this. “Well, there’s a fledgling little town called Swordhaven about 10 miles southwest of here. They’ll probably have clothing for you.” Seta walked up. “Master, do you know anything about this pace we’re going?” Negafok turned to him. “Swordhaven? Not much to tell. A pretty small and boring town, at least has all the supplies we’ll need. Looks like some kings are planning to build a castle there, maybe start a dynasty. Anyway, good place to rest.” Aldmava whined. “But, we still have to walk 10 miles in this heat…………Unless,” she smirked. Negafok stopped her. “No! You are not going into town in your underwear!”
Once the three arrived in Swordhaven, Aldmava made a beeline for the clothes store. Negafok sighed, and shook his head. “She forgot to get money……..” He turned to Seta. “Seta, take this gold to her. Get something for yourself while you’re at it. As for me, I’ll ask around, and see if there’s any local spirits here, so we can get more allies against Wahkahnee.” With that, Negafok walked briskly down a street. Seta sighed; he was Aldmava’s keeper now. He walked into the shop she ran into. “Pardon me,” Seta asked the store clerk, a young girl who was maybe only a year younger than he was, “did you see where the hyperactive girl who came in here went?” The clerk pointed to the dressing room. “She took the outfit that I recommended, and is dressing right now.” Seta looked around. “While I wait, what do you recommend for men?” The girl left her desk, and showed Seta some men’s clothing. Then, she told him that he could use the men’s dressing room without disturbing the ladies’. As Seta went to change, Aldmava came out. She had on a black fleece jacket, and blue pants made of unfamiliar material, the signs called it ‘denim’. She had on a pair of black platform shoes, which didn’t seem to hide much of her bare feet. The shoes gave her about an extra two and a half inches, though Seta still was about one inch above her. “This is what they wear down here?” Seta asked. Aldmava was enjoying already how much lighter she felt. “Come on, Seta. Let’s see what you picked out.” She practically shoved him in out of eagerness.
It didn’t take long for Seta to finish changing. He came out with a light blue, short-sleeve, button-down shirt, denim pants, like Aldmava’s, only grey, and grey shoes with shoelaces. What strange clothes, Seta thought, down here, it’s like they dress for fashion, and not to survive. Not to mention how advanced they are down south. He smiles. I guess the ice bridges will unite all of our civilizations, and our growth will be exponential. Aldmava grips Seta’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go eat next.” At that moment, Seta realized exactly why Negafok left the two of them alone. He paid the store clerk what everything cost, and left with Aldmava to enjoy the ‘date’ Negafok had discreetly set them up on.
Just tea. Not a very romantic thing to order. But, when they sat down at the small café, that’s all they ordered. Seta and Aldmava hadn’t talked to each other that much on the journey. This sit-down was more about talking, and less about eating. “So,” Seta started, “you picked out a nice jacket. I’ve never seen one so thin, and I’ve seen only really wealthy people wear fleece.” Aldmava smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your bare arms before, I’m liking that shirt.” She thought for a moment. “……….Seta, how much do you know about that witch? What’s her name? Wahkahnee?” Seta wasn’t sure he could answer. So far, he had only heard Wahkahnee’s voice. “Well, she loves to mock her enemies. And,” he looked at Aldmava with strong resolve to protect her, “she thinks nothing of attacking one’s heart. I’ve never actually seen the witch, but I can tell that she’s pure evil.” Aldmava sipped her tea. “Are you scared?” He nodded. “I am. Which is why I’m going to try to end the nightmare before it begins. Along with the spirits, I will destroy her, before even the story’s left behind.” Aldmava put her cup down. “But, what about you? If you’re successful, the world deserves to know what you did. This is the great destiny you wanted. Shouldn’t it become an epic?” Seta looked at his tea, and said nothing. The world must be saved. He must do it, even if it cost him his dream.
Suddenly, there was a deathly chill in the air. Aldmava shivered. “Seta………..” she started, but her voice ended in a short scream, as sheets of ice formed on all the surfaces around them. The two looked all around them; sheets of ice were forming all over town. People were in panic all around. Then, an enormous walled fortress, made entirely of ice, rose up in the center of town. Once the ice had stopped forming, Wahkahnee’s voice rang through the air. “Fools of Swordhaven! My name is Wahkahnee. Remember my name, for I shall become a goddess in this soon-to-be lifeless world of Lore! What you see before you is my Hailstone Stronghold, the structure of which my freezing apocalypse will radiate from, to all corners of the planet. However, Swordhaven, and its people, will be temporarily saved from doom, on one condition. My enemy is amongst you. He is a young one at about his eighteenth year. His hair is jet black, and falls to just touching his shoulders. His eyes areas grey as the stones at the bottom of a brook. If you find this young one, bring me his name, and I shall consider bestowing lenience on Swordhaven.”
Negafok walks up to Seta and Aldmava, with grim eyes. “Swordhaven used to have local spirits, but everyone says that their activity has ceased very recently. That might mean that she has already gotten them all. Hurry, young ones, we’re leaving town. NOW.” Seta turned to Negafok. “We can’t leave the people of Swordhaven in Wahkahnee’s hands. We’re freeing Swordhaven first.” Negafok shook his head. “The outcome of this war rides on your ability to communicate with spirits. We have to consider these people acceptable sacrifices.” Seta’s face wouldn’t budge. “I thought you considered all life precious, Master.” The giant looked down Who was he kidding? He has, does, and forever will believe that. Aldmava’s fingers laced around Seta’s hand. “Seta……,” she said with fear and worry. Seta lifted hands in the air, and the Earth spirits materialized the sword bequeathed to him. “I may have only this sword, and a small group of spirits helping me, but I WILL save Swordhaven.” Negafok put his hand on Seta’s shoulder. “Seta, as the Champion of Ice, I will not let you do this alone. Wahkahnee is not the goddess she thinks she is. I, too, will make a stand here.” Aldmava stepped forward. “I believe that this is the destiny Seta always spoke of. I will fight for the bright future that unfolds. I am unarmed, I am physically weak. But………..I believe that Seta, that all of us, have a great destiny.” Seta had a look of iron resolve. “Alright then,” he said as they began to charge the Stronghold, “let’s pit our destiny against that witch’s icy Chaos!”
At the sea 10 miles away, an orca sang a tune as it stretched its tail into the air.

AQ AQW  Post #: 5
6/4/2012 21:48:39   

AQ Name: Galanthic
AQ ID: 82887752
Clarity (Drakaths chaotic beginning)
By Galanthic

As the young prince gazed into the endless void of darkness. He was scared but was attracted to it. The young prince heard a voice, "You want power, do you not?". Drakath was a boy but he was gifted. He had something no one else wanted, clarity of the world. The voice then said in a loud and croaked voice, "You want power to cleanse, do you not!?". Drakath responded, "ye-,yes". There was silence for a long period of time. Drakath leaned closer. "I have the power you want, but in turn i will need something" retorted the darkness. Drakath wanted to be like the Hero, he agreed with a quivering voice.

12 Years later

"Do it over, we will work till your soul is connected with power!". It has been 12 years and Drakath is now a grown man. Through the years he has been preparing to make clarity in the world. "I'm sick of these!" Drakath retorted. "When will i start using this power, I'm already powerful enough!", "You have much to learn." responded the Darkness. "Now, Again!" Drakath did as he was told, he had a motivation that was given to him from the Hero. He then built up anger to use against the target and let go a fury of chaotic energy. The test dummy was no more, "You are ready Drakath". "Now for your end of the bargain". The darkness touched his chest and took out a purple flame, Drakath fell to the ground. "HAHAHAHA", with a swipe of the hand the flame turned to black and he put it back into Drakath, "Rise my apprentice!"

5 years later

"Interesting, the fool thinks he has ridden of me." "Go, take your place and cleanse, cleanse them all." "Hmph, this hopefully will be fun...." Drakath responded in a dull and deep voice. As he went to the lighthouse and unleashed a serpent from his right wing, "Go Valince, cleanse them". The serpent hissed and went through the lighthouse, it let out a terrible scream and engulfed the entire lighthouse from top to bottom. It shot it at Drakath and Drakath sliced it in half with the palm of his hand. "What a pity, too weak..." Valince stay here and take out any unwanted
guests....". "HAHAHAHA"


< Message edited by Galanthic_ -- 6/6/2012 20:17:24 >


AQW  Post #: 6
6/4/2012 22:07:38   
Human Psychology

AQ Character Name: Constant Sorrow
AQ Character ID: 29356570
Name of your Story: Meeting the Cyclopes' Tribe

It was just another day; merely a week after an epic war against all sorts of undead had finally been won, I was attempting to search through the Skraeling Desert. I've heard that there are ruins hidden with the shifting sands somewhere in the desert, the crumbled castles of old civilizations where magical theory was the way of life. I am forever compelled to find and understand a new piece of knowledge... dangerous or otherwise. A lot of people want me dead because of that. Anyways, while wandering around in that desolate land, I came across some individuals that would change my outlook on life forever. That’s not quite true; they were the ones who actually found me, outnumbered ten to one, fighting for my life against a gang of wild warriors. Now, I am a famous guardian mage, with amazing control of all eight elements plus I am a master of various magical theories, but I was in danger of dying that day had my soon-to-be friends not stepped in to save me.

“Argh! We’re strong,” those brutes yelled at me between chaotic swings of their swords, “and we relish this happy coincidence of a chance to prove it by fighting and hopefully killing a powerful guardian who we happened to stumble across while randomly wandering around the desert!” At this point I had cast a spell upon them that held them captive on the ground, a spell which also had the curious side-effect of raising their intelligence. At least I could attempt serious conversation with them in that state if I so desired. I thought they would be ensnared in that state for at least a good twenty minutes so I took the opportunity to strut around a little bit. “Who’s the best mage in Lore? I am!” And then they laughed, picking themselves up off the ground, the leader holding an orb in his hand and gesturing with it towards me: “Aha! I use magic thing that does stuff!” Then as a group they ran towards me with all their swords pointed at my heart. I thought I saw the Reaper out of the corner of my eye at that moment.

I was so worried about dying that I never noticed when the Cyclopes’ tribe arrived. In fact, I had closed my eyes in a gesture of defeat, hoping to calm myself by not paying attention to what was about to kill me. Time passed, and I stood there waiting, but when moments later I was still alive my eyes flew open to see what in Heck was going on. “Hey, guys, I had come to terms with my life, and now you mess around with m-” and I could not continue out of sheer shock and amazement. The members of the gang of wild warriors were all strewn upon the ground. Standing over them, with golden prods in hand, seven Cyclopes were all gazing intently at me with their one eye; they seemed to pierce me with visionary power. Everyone was still and quiet while I was trying to figure the best way to deal with this new situation. And then the leader, the Cyclops
Chieftain, walked right up to me and leaned above my head.

“Who are you and why do you make trouble here in the Skraeling Desert? You disrupt our lives; fighting all the time with cold steel and colder magic. Not content to fight your own, too, you also hunt us Cyclopes for the use of our eye. We stay to our lands. Are you here to slay us as well?” I could only stand mute for I had no ready response. My goal wasn’t to hunt them, no, but I could see how they might be angry at the humans who did kill them. They, the Cyclopes, did in fact keep to themselves, living peacefully with their own customs. The Cyclops Chieftain’s gaze grew ever more intense.

“But I can see, with my ESP, that you have a silver soul and a golden heart. You have potential, that is easy to discern, but you can swing either to the side of good or to the side of evil depending on the forces that influence you. Come, after this dreadful battle, let us rest the night at our village, a mere half a day’s walk from here.” And so I walked with them across the desert, and they regaled me with tales passed down through the ages by their ancestors, and I came to truly understand their way of life. In turn I spoke to them about things that I have learnt during my travels through Lore. We sat around a fire late into the night, exchanging stories as some would exchange greetings, laughing and crying in turn as our emotions responded to the words we heard. I daresay we became good friends during that time.

The next morning I was preparing to leave when the Cyclops Chieftain walked up to me. I saw that one of his hands was clenched tightly, but there was light shining out from between his fingers, and my curiosity was piqued. He stopped before me; reaching out his hand he offered me what he held. It was a small plant, roots and all, strangely without dirt or a pot to hold it. The brilliant yellow flower growing from the top of the stem, I saw, was luminescent. “The Golden Lily, our most ancient symbol,” the Cyclops Chieftain told me, “with it you shall gain the trust and loyalty of any creature of the light. Take it as a sign of our friendship.”

The Cyclops Chieftain and I exchanged goodbyes; well, he kind of pounded me on the back, pushing me down into the sand. However that was good enough for me. The rest of the tribe was softly and sadly sending me on my way. I was getting a little too emotional so I promptly set off towards my next adventure with a glance towards the horizon. Somewhere out there was my future. Taking a peek over my shoulder, back towards the camp, I could see the Cyclops Chieftain standing in the distance, waving a final farewell… but I could not see the single, solitary tear that ran down from his single, solitary eye, finally falling from his bearded blue chin to splatter on the parched ground of the desert.

< Message edited by Human Psychology -- 6/4/2012 22:28:42 >
Post #: 7
6/5/2012 14:58:45   

AQ Character Name: Wyn
AQ Character ID: 52110993
Story Name: The Story of the Desolater.

I was born the HERO. The Hero destined to do great things.
The World revolves around ME.
But... In my Queste for Power... I destroyed My family, my home...
EVERYTHING... Desolated.
That is why they call me the Desolator.
If you need something done - you call me.
I am the best at what I do... and that isn't a good thing.
I degenerated into the Villain. I am trying to redeem myself using the Mask of the Desolator.
My eyes clicked open. 10 years old, already feeding my family.
I woke early, with the sun, and ate. I left the house...
When I got to the Mine, I was first there. As ALWAYS.
First there = first to leave. But not that day.
I worked, and sweated. Mining day and night, earning just enough
to get my family get by. Later in the day, I heard chains rattling. The Guards were coming.
But this time... One died. Because of me.
As he strode past me, the pickaxe I used finally broke. It wasn't MY fault. It was theirs. And when I told Him,
He screamed and whipped me with the Chains. Three vertebrae in my back cracked. 3 months to heal.
I cried out, turned around and my eyes BURNED. Burned with hatred, rage, and evil.
The sheer power within me desolated everywhere around me. I ran. My family were dead.
Ten Years Later...
I run, every day. The world against me, fighting back-to-back with the other Criminals...
Except I am no Criminal.
Finally, I come to BattleOn... But I am not welcome there...
I flee to the Inn at night, don my hood and sit, smoking my pipe, until morning.
Except, that can never happen.
Yulgar wanders over, and asks "Friend, I have seen some trouble round here. But 'choo look like a guy who ain't wantin' trouble but got it. I see from your... condition, and that mighty fine Cursed Dragon Amulet on your chest, friend, you be cursed to not eat, and not sleep, til your curse be broken - I be right, yes?"
I nod "Aye. This Amulet, this Curse is from my Necronised Dragon... Calarag. The poor boy got in the way of a Necromancer and is rotting in a hellhole, and so am I, but I ain't never goin' back except to rescue Calarag."
"Well, friend, we can't tell Galanoth -- he'd hunt and destroy the dragon, destroying YOU."
He pauses, and sips his MoglinBerry Juice.
"There is... Artix Von Krieger, a Paladin, and one who'd be willing to help you, even IF he is the Champion of Darkness!"
"A DarkPaladin" I mutter "Boy, this is BIG. I'd heard the Prophecy's but... damn... He's the only one that can help."
The next morning.
We travel to Paladin HQ to meet with Artix.
"Greetings and Salutations! I am Artix Von Krieger -"
I interrupt Artix. "Yeah, yeah, we get the gist. Look, can you solve my problemo or not?"
"Err.... Yeah! OK! Lets go kick some Lichs!"
We run through the Skraeling Desert, through sand and sky, eventually reaching Buldrut Keep.
"THIS is where he is!" yells Artix proudly. "Oi, Lichy-boy, come out here and BRING IT ON!!"
The Lich strides out, followed by a Zombie Calarag.
"NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" I scream, pulling out my sword and stabbing him, again and again and again,
until Artix lopped the head off his un-lifeless body.
Calarag shook his head, breaking the shackles and lightened from the decaying green to scarlet and black.
I mount his Calarag, and, thanking Yulgar and Artix, nod to Calarag. With a ROOOAAAR!! Calarag lifts his mighty wings and flies into the midday sun.

Three days later, a Dracolich looms over the town of BattleOn.
All hope is seemingly lost when... "MAGICSPARKLEOFANTIDOOM-YSTUFF!!!!" I yell, engaging the Dracolich in Battle.
"Oh, and Artix - This changes everything between us... We're done."
So Artix reveals his secondalarming-ist secret EVER- "We're brothers, Wyn. We can never be done."
And they charged into valiant, glorious battle, relishing in their new-found brotherhood.

And that, my dear children, that, is the Story of Wyn the Desolator.

< Message edited by ShadowWarriorWyn3 -- 6/7/2012 14:20:33 >
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 8
6/5/2012 18:03:51   
Master K

AQ Character Name: Brandon
AQ Character ID: 58586881
Name of your Story: All Booked Up!

BattleOn has had it’s fair share of weird and strange events over the course of time, as many people know. Here’s a tale of when three kids discovered a spell book that could summon many beings…it all started when three of Eukara Vox’s students had asked her if they could find a book on monsters…

“Now you three, I hope you find the book you want. I have some other matters to attend to. Kimmy, I trust you to keep an eye on friends…make sure everything is left intact.” Eukara said to her three students, Jimmy, Timmy, and Kimmy.
“All right Ms. Vox! I’ll make sure they don’t wreck the place!” Kimmy said eagerly. Jimmy and Timmy rolled their eyes.
“Well, you know that I wouldn’t do nothing, but I’m not so sure about him.” Jimmy said, referring to Timmy, who was now glaring at him.
“Alright. I trust you three. But whatever you do, do not, under any circumstance, recite from my spell books. There are things that are not meant for you…it could be dangerous.” Eukara said sternly. With that statement, walked off into another part of the library.

“This place is so amazing…all the various books…” Kimmy said to the others.
“I’ll admit, it’s pretty interesting. I wonder what books she has here…” Jimmy said, looking around anxiously.
“Hmph. What could she possibly have here that’s so ‘dangerous’?” Timmy asked, slightly annoyed.
“Well either way, we should get looking. I bet there are a lot of interesting books here just waiting to be discovered…” Kimmy said.

And with that, the trio spread out around the room, digging through the bookshelves and looking at books that caught their eye.

“Hmm, this book looks interesting…History Of Terra…” Kimmy said, looking at a book.
“Well, I like this book. It’s called ‘How To Train Your Dragon’…” Jimmy said.
“Yes, because you have a dragon to train.” Timmy said sarcastically. Jimmy rolled his eyes.
“Woah, look at this. Fifty-One issues of a magazine called ‘The Zardian‘. Ms. Vox must really like them.” Kimmy said.
“Oh hey, here’s a logbook of all the champions of some event called the ‘Elemental Championships‘…” Jimmy said, holding a small leather booklet.
“Well, I got here a book on dragonflies. That‘s it.” Timmy said dully.
“I have here a textbook that’s about…I don’t quite know…something about fables and dragons? The cover is pretty damaged…” Jimmy said.
“This book looks cool. ’The Gentlemen’s Thesaurus To Sesquipedalian Loquaciousness’.” Kimmy said.
“What…?” Jimmy and Timmy said in unision.
“Omigosh, look, a book about bunnies! I love bunnies!” Kimmy said, immediately shrugging aside the other book in favour for the bunny book. Jimmy and Timmy rolled their eyes, and went back to looking for a book.

The trio kept digging through Eukara’s library, finding various books, some dealing with history and knowledge, others simply…odd. However, they soon came across an interesting book…

“Hey guys, check this book out!” Timmy said excitedly, pulling out a black leather book from the shelf. Kimmy and Jimmy promptly went over to see what he was talking about.
“What is it?” They both asked, confused. Timmy flipped through the pages.
“I think this is a book on monsters.” Timmy said with a smile.
“Here, give me that.” Kimmy said, quickly snatching the book away from Timmy. She began carefully flipping through the pages.
“This…this isn’t a regular book. This is a spell book…” Kimmy said with a shocked look on her face.

The book itself was bound in black leather, with some strange blood red runes on the front cover. The pages were worn and old, and had pictures and runes all carefully drawn out in black ink. The book itself was malevolent.

“Cool!” Timmy said, grabbing the book back. “I wonder what kind of spells it got…!”
“Don’t you dare recite any of those!” Kimmy said angrily, snatching the book back. “You could destroy BattleOn, or worse!”
“Eukara already said not to read any spell books…so let’s just leave it alone. Lets find a monster book, not a spell book.” Jimmy said.
“Oh fine. You never let me have any fun.” Timmy said angrily.

Jimmy placed the spell book back onto the shelf. Timmy eyed it, though, and remembered where it was. They searched around the library even more, until they came upon an interesting monster book.
“This is perfect!” Kimmy said. She reached up to pull the book off the shelf. The book was relatively large, bound in red leather, and it was pretty old. It had many pages of detailed information and monster sketches. However, just as she pulled it off, the cover came off.
“Oh my gosh!” Kimmy said, panicked. Just as she reached down to get it, Timmy said “No, I’ll get it. You go tell Ms. Vox we found a book.”
“Alright!” Kimmy said.

Kimmy walked off, and Jimmy followed her, although reluctantly. Just as he walked out with her, he looked at Kimmy and said “I bet you five gold he’s up to something”.

Just as the two left, Timmy scooped up the insides of the book and laid it back into the cover. He looked over at the other bookshelf, and then made up his mind. He rushed over to the shelf containing the spell book, and slipped the book under his sweater.

Just as he finished, Eukara, Jimmy, and Kimmy entered the room.
“Come on Timmy, let’s go.” Jimmy said.
“I hope you three enjoy your book on monsters. I’m positive it’ll be quite the read.” Eukara said with a smile. She casted a portal, and the three exited. The three arrived back in BattleOn, outside their schoolhouse.

“Come on, lets get inside. I want to read this thing!’ Kimmy said anxiously.
“Alright. Hey Timmy, you coming with us?” Jimmy said, taking the monster book.
“No…I’m gonna head off. I’m feeling sort of…sick.” Timmy lied. He didn’t want to let the others know he had the spell book.
“Well…alright. Get better soon and all that.” Jimmy said, with a slight look of concern.
“We’ll tell you about the book later. I hope it has some cute creatures in it!” Kimmy said. She took the book from Jimmy and rushed inside, and Jimmy followed.

Timmy decided he would head on into Yulgar’s Inn. He still hid the book on the way in. Yulgar greeted him, and he made a slight nod to him. Nobody else was in the inn. He sat down in the far corner, and took the book out.

He carefully turned the pages, and browsed through the book. The book contained various pictures and runic scripture, presumably spells. Most of the writing was in black and in runic form, but some were barely pronounceable words written in red. After a few minutes of looking through the book, a picture caught his eye. It was of a strange demonic entity with weird antennae. Timmy looked at the writing, and the red writing caught his eye. He carefully recited the words under his breath. At that moment, a cold breeze passed through Yulgars. Momentarily confused, he kept reading. He seen pictures of many strange creatures, and continued to recite some words.

“By the light, it’s really windy out today!” Yulgar exclaimed from the other end of the inn, referring to all the sudden breezes.

Then, things got…bad, to say the least. Timmy packed up the book, and was just about to leave when the beast burst into Yulgars. It was the demonic creature that Timmy had first encountered. It was a vivid green color, and clearly not friendly. Yulgar sprang up from behind the counter, and grabbed the axe on the front of his counter.
“Prices are not the only thing that’s gonna be half off, wretch!” Yulgar shouted.

With one quick slice, he destroyed the demon. It turned to green ash, and fell to the ground. Yulgar was just about to put the axe back…when it started to reform. Timmy ran past the reforming demon into BattleOn square. He heard a commotion behind him, and seen Warlic fighting off a strange, flat, reflective creature, which he kept destroying, but it was reforming just as fast.

Now, this is where I come in. My name is Brandon, and I’m your standard hero who defends BattleOn and such. Anyways, I was in BattleOn at the time, and I encountered one of Timmy’s summoned beasts.

I was minding my own business that day when out of nowhere, a strange patchwork beast attacked me. It seemed to be a mixture of a reptile, beast, and insect, with some otherworldly features. I shook it off, and promptly sliced the beast in half with my massive Holiday Colossus. I thought that was the end of it, but when I turned my back, the dust the beast had turned into was gathering up and reforming again.

While I was doing this, Timmy was off to find his friends. He headed off to the schoolhouse to warn Jimmy and Kimmy. However, he met up with them halfway there.

“What’s happening?! We were attacked at the school by a strange creature-” Jimmy started.
“-An Aegull.” Kimmy interjected. She had the monster book open to a page showing a hideous combination of a reptile and a seagull. “I don’t know why it’s around here. They’re not indigenous to this area…”

“Well guys, the thing is-” Timmy started nervously, before Kimmy cut in.
“Did you do what I think you did?!” Kimmy said angrily. Timmy reluctantly got the spell book out, and Kimmy and Jimmy’s eyes widened. Kimmy promptly snatched the book away from Timmy.

YOU IDIOT! YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO TAKE THE BOOK!” Kimmy said, hitting Timmy in the shoulder with the book with each word.
“Alright, alright, I get it.” Timmy said, backing away from Kimmy and holding his shoulder.
“What do we do now…?!” Kimmy said, panicked.
“Let’s find Ms. Vox or somebody. They might be able to help.” Jimmy said. He lead them onwards back to the square.

Meanwhile, I was busy fighting off the wretched abomination. It kept reforming every time I struck it down. It was getting more and more difficult to fight off. I had just destroyed it again when the three kids came up to me. They tried to speak, but I said “Quickly, we got to hide before it reforms!”, and I dragged them behind Aria’s shop.

“You three shouldn’t be out now. There’s monsters everywhere.” I said.
“We realize.” Jimmy said.
“…Who are you guys anyways? I’ve never met you before.” I asked them.
“I’m Kimmy.” Kimmy said.
“I’m Jimmy.” Jimmy said.
“And I’m-” Timmy started, before Kimmy cut in angrily “-The absolute IDIOT.”
“He’s Timmy, but Kimmy’s furious at him.” Jimmy said.
“Why?” I asked. I know kids have fights, but at a time like this, it seemed…odd.
“He’s the reason this whole mess started.” Jimmy said.
“What?!” I said, surprised. Jimmy took the book from Kimmy, and handed it to me. I quickly gazed over it.
“This is a spell book…where did you get it.” I asked them curiously.
“He took it from Ms. Vox’s library! We were looking for a book, and he took that one!” Kimmy said furiously.
“Eukara’s library? We should probably consult her about this then…” I said. Just as I did, the creature I was fighting earlier jumped out from a corner and attacked me.

The three kids jumped back. Kimmy flipped through her monster book, and promptly said “That’s an Abomination!”
“You don’t say…?” Timmy said sarcastically.
“No, I mean it. It says right here that’s its name.” Kimmy said, annoyed.

Anyways, I threw it off of me, and then quickly sliced it in half.
“Come on, lets go! It’ll form back!” I shouted at them. We ran back into the square. Warlic was still dealing with a strange, flat, shining creature. Kimmy flipped through her book for a moment, and then informed us that it was an Xyno.

We were about to leave the square when we saw it.

A shadow had descended onto the square. Everyone paused, and we looked towards the Guardian Tower. Looming behind the tower was the largest, most horrible zard I had ever seen. It was higher than the Guardian Tower. Everyone was frozen in horror. Kimmy flipped through her book, and after a moment she looked at us direly and said “That’s Zardzilla…the largest zard of all…”

I’ve fought many tough creatures before, but I was not prepared to take on this massive beast. At that moment, I saw Eukara enter BattleOn. In a panic, she rushed over to us.
“What’s happening!? Where did that thing come from?!” Eukara said, panicked.
“Timmy did it.” Kimmy said.
“What?!” Eukara said, with some anger in her voice. I handed her the book, and a look of anger crossed her face.
“I told you not to read any spell books!” Eukara said angrily. She shook her head, opened the book, and looked through it. The giant zard was about to demolish the Guardian Tower, when Eukara said some strange words. Suddenly, all the monsters in the town froze. They slowly turned white, and then vanished in a poof of smoke.

“…What just happened…?” I asked. Everyone in town looked bewildered.
“I just banished them.” Eukara said sternly. Timmy was edging away from them when she turned to him and said “You’re not going anywhere, young man. You have detention for the next month…and you’re not allowed back into my library.”

Timmy sighed, and slowly trudged off. Eukara looked at Kimmy and Jimmy and said “Did you have any part in this?” They both shook their heads, and Eukara sighed.
“It’s lucky that there wasn’t any damage done…” Eukara said grimly. Before she walked off, she told me “Thanks for your help.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Jimmy looked at Kimmy and said “I’d like my five gold now.” Kimmy looked at him, and did a face palm.

So there you have it. Certainly an interesting tale, don’t you think? I won’t forget it, and I certainly think BattleOn won’t forget it either. We all agree that it’s definitely a story worth saving…

AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 9
6/6/2012 14:56:22   

AQ character name:Dnightlord
AQ ID:61809819
Stroy name: A Yulgar story:The Thief's Pit (Or why there are no sneevils in my basement)
This story is approximately 7 pages long accodring to microsoft word, and was written by Dnightlord

A Yulgar Story: The Thief’s Pit (Or why I have no sneevils in my cellar)
Today was the day Yulgar’s inn was finally inspected by a genuine health inspector and not Twilly. The inspector in question checked both the tables, luckily not drinking the potion placed upon one, the rooms, and attic, until finally going into the cellar. Once done he came out covered in several cobwebs, lint, and dust. He then addressed Yulgar himself.
“Scuse me Mr. Yulgar I have completed your inspection and everything checks out except THIS,” exclaimed the health inspector. “Which I just happened to find drinking out of your cellar stores.”
The thing in question happened to be a sneevil of considerable size, and like the inspector, was covered in the same layer of filth one would expect from a cellar-dweller. At the sneevil, Yulgar was slightly, startled, he had forgotten, to call extermination services this week, which usually composed of me and my axe working for 1 gold an hour. Regaining his composure and with a considerable amount of brainpower, Yulgar came up with an incredible, but not true, story describing why that could not be a sneevil from the cellar.

The alley was a cold stretch of paved cobblestone, wet with the frequent rains that accosted my city. Fires raged once again in the darker places, renewed with increased vigor, as if to burn had incited an evil soul within them that yearned to destroy. My knapsack was full and brimming with the items of value I had liberated from my targets, but for once they would not be traded in for food and shelter at the tavern. No for once I had stolen for my own needs, rather than those of survival. What I needed was to escape Prisnt, the ruling crime lords had entrapped its citizens for years with armed guards who let none out, save for the various visiting royalty, and tourists, who wrere given passes to enter and exit the city, those that lost their passes were trapped for life. Unfortunately visitors were scarce, so it was out of the question for me to steal said pass. Were it not for the large military who had long ago cleared the monsters of Prisnt, many nearby towns would have most likely intervened. And as I reached the end of the alley several small shudders went over my back as I read the title of the building’s door, scrawled in what hopefully was nothing more than red paint. “Jon Capan”.
“Hello...” I inquired hesitantly.
“What is you require boy? Be quick however, Jon has little time for children and their stupid offers for protection.” Responded a deep guttural voice from the small slit in the door; summoning up all of my courage I spat out my words like acid.
“I don’t need your protection, even if I did the bodies of the last boys to come here would likely discourage me from asking for help from the likes of you! No what I need sir is a way out of this town!”
“Hah! Sir eh? It seems we gots a gentleman here today, well I’ll let ya in boy and here’s some advice that you’ll learn after you’ve made your deal: the likes of us are the only type of people your ever gonna meet in this god-forsaken city.”
The door slowly creaked open on its rusty hinges looking like the entrance to the Void, which it most likely was. It revealed the thin frame of a wizened man, scarred from both sorrow and hate, yes he was the example of what happened to those who survived Prisnt. The man pointed almost solemnly towards the tunnel leading to the forsaken pit that was Jon Capan’s meeting place. As I descended the steps I thought of who I would soon be meeting.
Jon Capan was the best known crime lord of Prisnt, although there were many more. He had so cleanly infiltrated the many systems of Prisnt, judicial, law enforcement, and even the mayor’s office, not even the Guardians were aware of him. All the various tales detailed a greasy, shifty man, rife with corruption and cunning. He had killed thousands of men both evil and innocent. But none of these legends prepared me for the sickening man I saw before me.
Jon was a fat gross behemoth of a man, if you could call him a man. His teeth were yellowed with age and filth, and a thick handlebar mustache covered his upper lip, however a thinning spot of hair covered a rather scarce area of his head, despite the mass amount of facial hair. But to discourage such crass comments were four holsters. Two held wickedly large guns with barrels the size of a child’s head and the other two carried jagged Bowie blades, their handles fit with a spiked hand guard. Before I could respond to the hideous thing before me, Jon spoke.
“You are in luck today boy; I was in the middle of a rather reluctant decision to send one of my thugs to accompany the girl Valencia on her mission to find me a…object of interest. But the novice treasure-hunter would most likely see through the ruse of kind old Jon sending a shifty looking hireling to help her.”
“Excuse me uh…sir but what exactly are you talking about?” I replied.
“Well boy, I have been told that you have come to me looking for a way out of Prisnt, and sadly your ill-begotten goods strapped to your back will not do as payment. This new child Valencia comes from the developing town of Battleon, and is unaware of my standing as crime lord of Prisnt. She believes I have asked her to find me a dark object sealed away in the monster-filled Pit that reaches below Battleon so that I may destroy it against those that wish to use it for evil. To pay me for your escape of Prisnt you must accompany Valencia into the Pit, but once you retrieve my item, you must flee back to me, and I will grant your wish, once you leave those that guard the town and ensure its occupants stay.”
“Well I’m grateful sir for this generosity and I will complete the task as you’ve asked sir.” I answered shakily.
“Make no mistake child, this is not generosity, it is merely that you have something I require. Should circumstances be different you would be dead, and if you fail me you will also be hunted down and killed,” responded Jon “Now be on your way before I take back my deal.”
Thus the decision that would send me to Battleon for the first, but not last, time was made. Upon arriving, after dodging and escaping several beasts along the way, I discovered that Battleon was but a half constructed town, men were still busily adding to the buildings with newly shaped wood, filled with dotted campsites and half-made buildings such as an inn. Age-old scorch marks dotted the grounds from a war most likely fought years ago. Inside the half-built inn I found Valencia, a beautiful yet rough looking girl, clad in the garments of a rogue, with an air of rebellion about her, petting what appeared to be a small winged moglin. Before I could even speak she rushed to me, grabbed my arm and led me outdoors.
“So you’re the kid Jon sent to ‘protect’ me huh? Well here’s some news: I don’t need your help, and if you still want to come stay out of my way got it? My father was a treasure hunter and I’m a treasure hunter, I know all there is for us to finish this job, so now that we’ve established your cooperation let’s get to the details,” She fired out not even waiting for my response “The object we’re looking for is a darkness filled axe located in the farther reaches of the Pit which, unfortunately for us, is filled with the undead, including a nasty bugger called the Angel of Darkness. Almost nobody knows about this Pit, as it was made ages ago by some random heroes not even Yulgar-“
“Who?” I asked before she could continue on.
“Uggh, he’s the nice fellow who runs the inn back there. Any more questions? No so-“
“If he owns it why hasn’t it been finished?”
“Well..that’s my own fault, my Dad may have been a treasure hunter too, but he was never around enough to teach me ALL the tools of the trade. When I told Yulgar about my traits, with umm a little exaggeration, he put me, in charge to provide the money that would fuel the town, while the rest built it from what they could find. I was able to come up with a few valuables, but not quite enough, you see my problem is that I can’t find those hidden items, the ones that aren’t on pedestals and displays.”
In my haste to encourage her I almost broke my cover, blurting out my “occupation”.
“I can help you for sure now! Cause I happen to be a thie-“
“A what exactly?” She questioned me. So covering my tracks I came up with a lie.
“A um well a, I used to be a thief before Jon took me in after he found me on the streets. I got an eye for valuables that nobody else has seen and I could teach you.”
Before she could respond I caught a hint of what might have been a blush, which was quickly covered by the continued details of our mission.
“Well thank you and- well here’s the rest: The dark axe is located in a chest just pass the Angel’s lair, and in a locked chest.
“Ok I think I got it ready to go?” I answered, before we gathered our stuff and set off into the Pit, surprisingly by nothing more than a stretch of tarnished rope, that led deep into the giant Pit just far enough from town to be hidden.
Once inside we trudged slowly through the rocks and crevices, all to the mounting moans of the monsters and the drip of stalactites. As we traveled I pointed out the various valuables the monsters carried.
“See that one with the steel jaw? His sword is ornamented with designs and runes, but it’s made of cheap iron, while the smaller skeleton next to him is carrying what looks just like a chunk of sharp steel. In actuality that chunk is pure platinum, learned that from a visiting paladin.”
“And how exactly did you learn that?” Valencia asked skeptically.
“Oh…uh, he happened to have a whistle made of the same material on his persons until I stole it. When I tried to sell it the fence gave me more than I thought. When I asked why, he told me it was platinum.”
We continued like this for what felt like hours, until the moans of the many undead became…different, more distressed. We found the cause of this to be a boy our own age clothed in paladin armor and a helmet two sizes too big, holding a massive glowing axe that radiated light. Around him were piles of bones and limbs as more and more beasts fell to the lightning quick reflexes of the young paladin. Valencia not wanting to be out done, soon joined in and the two cleared a wide berth between us and the many monsters until we could all sit and rest.
Not forgetting my manners I waited until the paladin removed his helmet and turned to him, asking his name. To which he replied:
“Arctic huh? Well-” I answered rather distractedly as what appeared to be a red-eyed demon cat leering at me from afar.
“No it’s Artix, with an X and not a C,” Artix replied while casually sending the demon cat to oblivion “But I have a question for you: why didn’t you join in on the monster fighting with me and Valencia? Oh and before you ask, yes I know Valencia, we’re both from Battleon and she has already told me about your inquisitiveness nature.”
“Well Artix, the problem is I don’t know how to fight, and I don’t have a weapon to start.”
“That can be arranged easily,” said Artix as he handed me a downed monster’s sword “I’ll teach you as we go on, after all there happens to be an abundance of monsters to train on.”
“Here this is a forward thrust, take your sword and point it out like an extension of your arm, and then push forward.”
This practice with arms soon lead to the destruction of even more monsters until the trio had all but cleared the Pit of all beasts and undead, eventually leading them to the Angel of darkness’s lair, who until now had stayed out of the various brawls. As they approached the monster a great rumbling took place as the Angel awoke and began to voice it’s malice at those who had so readily destroyed its companions.
“Sso you are the ones who have come to MY domain and killed MY followers? You are the ones who would seek my axe?Before I perish to your blades, I have one final question: are you aware of the selfish cause for which the thief fights for? The Betrayal he will soon commit? Yes I know of the secret you contain young thief.”
“What is he talking about? Artix and Valencia asked in unison.
“I umm, well…..I didn’t come here to help you Valencia or to even make friends. My only mission here was to take the Angel’s axe and steal it away to Jon Capan, because he isn’t some hero who wants to destroy it he is a villainous crime lord who wants the power in it for himself. But now that I’ve finally made true friends who accept me, and have taught me how to fight for a heroic cause I will not betray you now or ever. Jon will have to hunt me down before I would ever betray you and I hope you can forgive me.” I spat out rapidly, with both the desperation of a confession and a hidden truth.
At this Valencia and Artix stared at me curiously, with varying looks of mistrust, but then as the realization of what I had now promised them occurred and to the risks I would go to to make them my friends forever, they smiled and in that moment the Angel crept behind axe raised and poised. With a yell of pure fury I jumped passed my friends and smote the evil Angel and gathered its axe while me and my new friends-
“Scuse me Mr. Yulgar but what are you trying to get at here? As far as I can tell this story has nothing to do with the sneevils I’ve found contaminating you inn.” Interrupted the health inspector.
“Well sir, if you’d really like me to cut the story short-“
“I do”
“Well hmmm the trio killed the angel, already said that...uhh, oh yes they sold the axe to supply the inn and get this, we used the money for a new sneevil extermination service that guaranteed life-long potency, which is um why that can’t possibly be my sneevil,” answered Yulgar.
At this I began to chuckle loudly. I was the “thief” in Yulgar’s story and the most me Valencia, and Artix had done was go maybe 20 steps into the Pit before running out like the children we were, but not before finding someone’s lost woodcutting axe on the way out. There wasn’t even a town named Prisnt nor a Jon Capan, and the most thieving I’d ever done was take a little extra moglinberry juice from the cellar. I was half expecting to hear Yulgar add “and then they all walked into the sunset” to his outrageous tale, before I saw him excitedly pointing the inspector over to me.
“So are you the boy who helped pay for this so called Sneevil extermination?”
I wasn’t one to lie, but I wasn’t willing to see Yulgar finally hand me the bill for all the mugs of moglinberry juice I drank daily, which were bound not only to re-finance the inn, pay for real extermination, but make him a millionaire. So I...withheld certain facts, after all the best lie is made up of truth, or just made up.
“Yes I have in fact paid for Yulgar’s sneevil extermination.” I’d given him my payment for the extermination back because I ended up drinking the “drink me” potion again.
“Indeed, and these others, Artix and Valencia, they paid as well?”
“Why yes they have.” They had to help me once because they both drank the potion too.
“Alright then, I believe all we have to do is go to this Prisnt Yulgar mentioned and-”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to check the cellar again? After all traveling to another town, is far too much for a fellow like you.” I replied, eager to steer him away from visiting a non-existent town.
“I suppose you’re right, well why don’t you go with me this time?”
“Of course then….” I replied despite the knowing glare from Yulgar, which said that if I failed to dissuade the inspector I’d be seeing a check very soon.
I walked down the cellar steps with the inspector; all too aware of the various exclamations of “Box!” this was going to be way hard. So for the next hour of inspection I began battling sneevils, in the shadowy corners far from the eagle eyed gaze of the inspector. From cratelords to boxers I got them all, until a small packrunt approached the health inspector and almost kindly asked “Box?”. If it weren’t for its bile colored skin, or giant nose, the sneevil might have saved the inn by pure cuteness; alas it was not to be so. Once the sneevil realized the inspector was not a box, he bit him. The inspector proceeded to march out of the cellar, all the while holding up a paper reading closed for business. There was now only one chance to save the inn, making sure Yulgar wasn’t looking I did the evil deed, I handed him a drink, not forgetting to tear off the warning of “drink me” that is. The inspector slowly shrank to a more manageable size and I began to walk out the door. Before I could leave and all too smug voice yelled out.
“Dnightlord, don’t forget to put the note back on the potion.”
And that is why no one will ever know we have sneevils in the basement.
Post #: 10
6/6/2012 22:12:33   

AQ Character Name: DarkKnight Valadus VI
AQ ID: 67552178
This is the story of the original Dark Knight Valadus, and the story of his defeat...

one thousand years ago long befoe battleon existed the anestors of our mighty hero and his friends lived in anceint falconreach. a beautiful town where the fabled doomknight sepulchure attacked and failed so much. the heros ancestor was named Valadus, the orignal Dark Knight..... He was so powerful all who faced him trembled in fear..... now let the story begin!

In the beautiful town of Falconreach Artix's great great great great great great grandfather and galanoths 7th great great great uncle, whom is part dragon, and warlics grandfather Merlin were having conversation in the town. "So merlin have you found out anything that may help bring down valadus?" Said Azeca, an anceint draconic word meaning holy warrior. "No" Said merling sighiing. "it is almost impossible to find any information about his faimly or past." Galanoths great great great Uncle Galnor said in a low voice "well he used to be a hero i know that." Merlin raised an eyebrow " really now? once a hero?" Galnor nods. And in mid conversation a guardian from the tower ran up "Merlin, Galnor, Azeca undead are attacking the town!" Merlin looks up suprized "What? Now really? we just recovered from last months attack!" Galnor snorted "hmph. let me handle it." Galnor ran off and confronted the undead and due to his supirior dragon streanth and agiity he took out most of the undead within a second and all of a sudden a faint chuckle "Amusin Draconian.... Amusing.... Hehehehe....." Galnor looked up to see the undead general Tibias "poor lil draconian reduced to bein a poor Hero. Hehehehehehe...." Galnor looked at Tibias unphased "Says the walking skeleton serving a mad man" Tibias laughed. "Atleast he gave me powe beyond your own...." Galnor sprang at Tibias but Tibias did not lie and he dodged and punched Galnor square in the side. Tibias laughed and Cackled "Poor lil Draconian cant even fight! HAHAHHahahahahaha" Galnor faited from the blow and tibias left the village letting the undead finish their work.

Seven hours later Galnor woke up to find Merlin and Azeca sitting nearby along with Beleens super great healer grandmother Alenor.
Galnor sat up and merlin said "about time Galnor.. the blow looked serious." Galnor winced and said "well atleast it wasnt a blade... but did anyone else see tibias? he's changed..." And from the corner of the room a black knight showed himself "f your tired of this. Just kill Valadus. Its the quickest way." Azeca said "who are you?" The knight laughed hollowly "i am Deathroy. I am from the order of the Scarlet dawn." Galnor looked at deathroy questioningly "scarlet dawn? whats that?" Deathroy smiled, "a organization made to destroy valadus. And i'll need you four to help me." Alenor said in a unsure tone "why should we trust you Deathroy?" Deathroy laughed "Because i am your only chance at getting near that fortress. Now get up and lets go!" Galnor and the others got up and followed Deathroy to the edge of falconreach. Deathroy said "Lets get moving. Doomwood aint gonna come to us." and Deathroy and our hero's set off on there journy to the heart of doomwood... the Castle of Valadus the Dark Knight....

The hero's stopped by a river to eat as Deathroy searched the area. Soon Deathroy found a cavern and he went into it, inside he found so many undead no normal man could fight them. But in less than a second the 649 undead were dead. As Deathroy went back camp and layed down he listened to Galanor and Merlin talking "Galanor do you think we should trust him? he seems eerie... and the mana type he has is that of something evil..." Galanor shrugged "Depends on how much he wants Valadus dead. i wounder why someone like deathroy wants a villian dead." Merlin said slowly " well maybe he wants something?" Galanor raised an eyebrow "what does valadus have that deathroy would want?" Merlin shrugged slightly "beats me." In the morning the five of them set off to doomwood. Along the way they had to slay random undead, zombies, and wraiths. along the way a zombie wolf ambused them and bit into deathroys side. Due to deathroy already having a slightly dark nature the zombification took no effect. but left deathroy wounded which made him limp slighly do to multiple bites on the legs and hips. Alenor said "are you sure you dont want me to heal you Deathroy? that looks serious..." Deathroy shook his head "No don't heal it... i can get by" Alenor looked at Deathroy in slight concern "Ok..." As they traveled the found a trader camp guarded by royal guards and a general. Deathroy said "get supplys..." Deathroy goes to the blacksmith and asks for Daggers to be smeltd and formed. Deathroy meets with the others in the middle of the large camp and they set out again slaying random undead more and more as they travle and then....

Nearly halfway to the castle they run into a Dracolich riding Doomknight. the doomknight looked at the travelers with suspicion "none may pass." Galanor shrugged then kicked the dracolichs neck in half and the deathknight jumped off and laughed. "dont think ill be that easy to beat." the doomknight blasted dark energy at them and azeca counted with a light blast and then another to take down the doomknight "hmm he must have been a rookie." and they continued until they reached Tibias...... Tibias smiled "finnally you got here..... you finnally made it.... HEHEHEHEHEHE......." Tibias pulled out a large claymore stained with red "meet your undoing...." Tibias charged and te wounded Deathroy charged instead of anyone else and the wounded deathroy although in pain was not easyly over powered, he fought for a near five minutes befor tibias was able to stab him and throw him back at the heros and deathroy coughed an stood up. "im not giving up..." and Deathroy charged and slashed rapidly and stabbed again and thrown back and got back up. Alenor grabbed Deathroy before he could charge again. an then galanor charged and then after 20 minutes of slashig the battle was about to end... Tibias's blade of sparking against Galanors blade and finnally Tibias's blade broke in half and impaled tibias in the skull... Galanor sat down exhausted and Deathroy was set against a tree by Merlin and Alenor as Azeca tended to his wounds "Thank you Azeca.." Azeca nodded and smiled kindly "No one deserves to die in pain when the fight for justice." and then they set out again. Azeca was talking to Deathroy "so Deathroy how exactly did you become a knight?" Deathroy chuckled "a long story, long long story. lets just say the king trained me" Azeca raised an eyebrow "impressive."
and after awhile they ran into a dark mage and the mage and merlin had a long spell battle until Alenor boosted Merlins powers with he magic and within minutes the darki mage was a smoldering pile of ashes. Merlin stood up straight "thanks Alenor." Alenor nodded and smiled. After two hours they sat down and ate and went to bed. Deathroy sat up in the middle of the knight and looked around "you've been good friend.. but my end is near.." and he layed back down. the next morning they set off to the final battle.

"atlast we made it" Said Deathroy, As they battled through countless undead. and then they reached the throne room. Valadus sat there with his sword... The Necrotic Sword of Doom..... Valadus smirked "Finnally you made it. my blade told me soo much about you.. espeically you Deathroy...." The blade hovered next to Valadus "YESSSSS WE KNOW SOO MUCH..... WE KNOW YOUR PAST... YOUR PRESENT... YOUR FUTURE....!" Deathroy Sneered "you four handle the undead generals.... this is my fight..." the Necrotic Blade of Doom Laughed "HAHAHA YOU CANT WIN" Valadus stood up and grabbed the blade's hilt. "Time to fight Deathroy." Deathroy and Valdus charged and their swords clashd, spark after spark clash after clash, klink after klink... Four hours later the necrotic sword of doom flew out the window and landed next to a random warrior.. Valadus fell over and then Deathroy stabbed through Valadus's chest "With this you burn... Burn in the fires the UNDERWORLD!" and then valadus and deathroy dissppeared leaving the armor and bones and they died to go into the spirit world... Alenor and the others looked at the armor "He ended it at the cost of his life..." Said merlin "he was a true hero..." Azeca said in a soft tone "he sacrificed his life for us." Galanor sighed "probly the bravest man alive." Alenor cryed alil "he-he-he sacrifyed everything for the world..." and they set out to falcon reach and when the reached it they had a statue made in honer of deathroy... foir lore to remember the deeds of a true hero...

Meanwhile back in the castle a doomknight sat in the throne with the necrotic blade... his name was Salevence... Father of Sepulchure..... the armors of the knights where on wooden holders, and the armor of Deathroy on a gold one to show its honor.
Salevence Laughed "now i wait.... i shall wait for the time to strike... the time when battleon is born!" 1,000 years later.... Darkknight Valadus the Fourth is born.... as the son of sepulchure......

I hope you enjoyed the tale of the DarkKnight Valadus and his Defeat, if this isnt what they ment by story then i spent alot of time role playing in AQ and pretending for nothing :(

< Message edited by deathroythegreat -- 6/6/2012 22:14:59 >
Post #: 11
6/7/2012 5:24:30   

Character Name: Primus Omega
Character ID:66012045
Name of Story:The Life and Experiences of James Viollus

Once in a millennium, there foretold a great hero that would cleanse Lore of its rising evil powers. Legends told that the hero would never meet oblivion but would be reincarnated into another body 1000 years in the future. That place in Lore was bestowed upon a small boy whom is too young and too immature to know his own destiny.

The name of that very special person was James Viollus. He had a very troubled and chaotic past. He was son of Commander Joltus Alpha, a.k.a John Viollus, ex-chief of a now-abandoned squadron of Guardians in Deren. A seasoned veteran was his father, who experienced some of Lore's most epic wars in the past. But when the Devourer's mechanical minions invaded Battleon, the valiant commander's seasoned Blade of Awe could not compare with their fatal guns and devastating technology. He fell the day his own son was born. Alexis Beaumont(Xymon Beaumont's cousin), James' mother was the only one who could tend to him. After the Guardians won the war, they hurried back to Deren for John's funeral. He was loaded into a beautiful gilded gondola. It was set ablaze and pushed away from the Derenian shore. Thick black smoke billowed from the gondola until what was left of the gondola was ash from the flames.

But in a month's time, the Guardians chose a new leader, Commander Axel Twilight and erased all memories they had of John, with an exception of a certain guardian called Nimrod. He admired John greatly and saw potential in James. He was also the only Guardian left in the squad that defeated the Devourer's minions. John was mortally wounded then and gave his last words to Nimrod. "I entrust my sweet wife and my heir in your hands. Please take care of them well..." John's said before moving on. Vowing to never break the promise he made, Nimrod put his utmost effort in helping Alexis but failed to protect her from an ambush from a mysterious figure. James, hidden in a box, was 2 years old and saw the whole thing, from Nimrod being pulverized to his mother spiked to death. It was terrifying but the demonic figure fled in a bolt of Darkness when reinforcements came. So now, young James was parent-less, and Nimrod took care of him for the time being.

A year later, Nimrod had recovered and set off to Battleon, his home, bringing young James along with him. But when he reached Lolosia, the toddler was grabbed by a rogue. Nimrod reached for his Blade of Awe but the rogues were too dexterous, all his blows were missed. "No!" he shouted, the guilt within his heart had reached the maximum. " I have failed you, John." he said as he wiped a tear off his cheek.

Young James was transported to Kovesport and eventually became a rogue, lost in the world of treachery and deception. Unaware of his past and his name, a 10-year-old James had to steal for a living. He was quite big for his age, at 5 feet and wasn't the best rogue out there. One day, he tried to find a person to rob and was in luck, a gentleman who looked noble and wealthy. He thought he was an easy victim. But no matter how many ways he tried to rob him, the gentleman would always see through his lies, so he attacked him recklessly, but little he knew that the gentleman had a trick up his sleeve. The gentleman reached into his sleeve and a dagger as sharp as a needle and as dark as the night lunged out. Before James knew it his was pinned to a wall.

"Who are you really?" James asked. "Wallo the assassin is my name, don't try any of your dirty tricks for I know your every move." the gentleman said. "But I don't have anything on me left." James replied. "I think you need some training, I can do it but do you have any loved ones?" Wallo asked. James shook his head. "Well come along boy and what is your name?"Wallo asked." I don't know, sir." James said resectfully. " Wallo hesitated for a while then noticed his violet shirt. " So, I now dub thee assassin in training." From then on the next part of his life was devoted to paid assassinations and concealing himself. Wallo trained him really hard and it was agonizing for the 10-year-old .

Another 5 years passed and he became known as "The Dark Violet" to his foes and friends. He became very popular within the ranks of the assassins for his fighting skills and deceptive ways. But strangely, every time he murdered a victim, an unusual feeling filled his heart, guilt. It was the feeling he concealed the best. Nobody knew his secret and he kept it to himself, thinking that it would tamper with his effectiveness and reputation if he showed it. But his secret would be revealed, and he would be changed into something completely different.

One fateful day, Wallo(and Shii) assigned him to assassinate a certain Guardian in Battleon whose name somehow reminded James of Him(Nimrod). A just didn't ring a bell. So he ventured to Battleon's Guardian Tower and sought Him(Nimrod). Nimrod was minding his own business in the tower when a hooded James sprang from above with his decapitator blade. "Who are you and how dare you invade Battleon's majestic Guardian Tower?", Nimrod shouted."I am the Dark Violet. The Guardian Tower is a sight to behold but you are the one!" James slashed his blade, Nimrod dodged as quick as lightning but he still sustained a cut on his cheek. "Fast you are, but you are no match for my Blade of Awe!" He drew his Blade of Awe, James eyes glittered as the blade reflected the sun's light and appeared golden. It was the most awesome blade he had ever set his eyes on. The awe of the blade dazzled James and Nimrod landed the winning blow. "The Dark Violet" was finally unmasked!

"Lorithia bless me, it's...it's you, James Viollus!" Nimrod said while remembering his purple outfit. "I was the most worried man in the whole of Lore. I dispatched numerous Guardian squads to search for you. But at the time that blasted Zorbak with his Fundead army were decimating our ranks during the time so they were pulled back. Thank goodness you're safe."Nimrod shed a tear of happiness. James himself started to recall what the Guardian has done for him. Clearly, Nimrod was like a godfather to James. He came closer to Nimrod and hugged him.

That loving hug made James forget about everything, now he had a one who cared, now he could express his feelings. Now he had finally escaped the world of criminals and killers. This would mean the assassins were now holding a grudge against him. But his guilt was washed away forever along with his loneliness and deceptive demeanor. Nimrod re-trained him as a Guardian warrior, what he always was at heart. Instead of a cold-blooded killer he became an evil-banishing good soul. He now wielded his father's Blade of Awe passed on to him from Nimrod, who received it from John himself and wore his father's Guardian Plate. He swore to protect the two relics of his father with his life.

After another 10 years, James had his share of achievements as a Guardian. He stopped War from consuming Lore in endless war, became a champion arena fighter, fought Absolix and his Void minions and gained the Morningstar Set from his uncle Xymon after slaying Meduso. And that was only a small portion of his heroic deeds. The battle that made him the most admired Guardian in Lore was The AntiGuardian, a.k.a the War of The Two Titans. It was the one that almost destroyed his spirit but it was also his most glorious win.

By that time his arsenal of weapons and armors had reached almost legendary proportions, but his bravery had not shrunken a little bit. When the AntiGuardian Ghin appeared in Battleon, he was the first to confront the demonic figure along with Nimrod. After a gaze of the horrifying AntiGuardian, Nimrod was trembling with fear and despair,"Could this monster be the one... Yes, he definitely is.. The kid will be crushed spiritually...He must be stopped... somehow." They drew their Blades of Awe and prepared to do battle.

But they were battered badly by the Ghin's cutting edges and sheer strength."Ha, Ha, Ha! You have been beaten, Insect! Who cares if you are the so called 'hero', I can still continue to crush you to a pulp. Then I will spread my retribution to all the other Guardians! " the Ghin said to James. "What did you say!" shouted James. "I'll kill every single Guardian in Battleon like what the seekers did to the Guardians in Deren. They pummeled the squad of Guardians there, amongst them my father. The one responsible, COMMANDER JOLTUS ALPHA, JOHN VIOLLUS. I wasn't content enough with his death, so I decided to kill his helpless wife too, your fellow Guardian over there knows, am I right?" Ghin said maliciously.

All Nimrod could do was nod his head. James was frozen still when those shocking words came out of the AntiGuardian's mouth. He had just found the murderer of his mother, he also remembered Ghin from his spiky battle-armor to his Darkbolt. It was all too true yet too disturbing. Ghin then disappeared into a portal of pure darkness. James fell to his knees,"Why? Why did you never tell me the truth about my father's role within the Guardians, this demonic entity and my past! Why..." James passed out due to exhaustion.

The next day, James was in full health but was still feeling crushed from his most horrifying past. He was in a state of deep depression for the following few days, the deaths of his fellow Guardians were making him even more so. Guilt has slowly rebuilding in his heart along with a new feeling, hatred. It was the worst few days of his 25-year-old life. At the end of the week, Nimrod decided to pull himself together and talk personally with James. " James, you are Battleon's only hope, so stop letting your feelings cloud your judgement. Deep in there lies the courage to act. You have your father's strong will and we all believe in you. If you aren't listening, you may as well became an assassin again and seal your good qualities away forever." That was Nimrod's harsh talk with James.

James was highly motivated by what Nimrod said about him. So, he cleared his mind of negative thoughts and sought out Yulgar and Adder for the new armor plan that was about to be finished. When at Adder's forge, the two revealed the plans, The Mighty/Deft/Insightful Ultra Guardian Plate. James volunteered to wear the Mighty version to battle, under one condition, it was a reforge of his father's deep violet Guardian Plate. So the UltraGuardian Plate was reforged from John's Guardian Plate and was dubbed "The Viollus UltraGuardian Plate". It was the strongest variant of the Mighty UltraGuardian Plate and gives the user enhanced strength, luck and dexterity, apart from the 4-hit strong attack.

Now Battleon was the battlefield of two "titans", one represents all thing pure and good, one represents all things malevolent and corrupted. "I might not be able to change my past now... but I can make a change to the future and defeat thou foul demonic fiend!" Nimrod recalled what John had said to the Devourer and minions at his last battle. It went by " I might not be able to avenge past losses, but I can make a change for the future and be rid the land of thou mechanical monsters!". Nimrod put every single string of hope he had on James as did the people of Battleon. "Don't ever lose!" said Nimrod before going into hiding along with the citizens of Battleon. "I won't, ever!" James replied and with a wave of his Blade of Awe the battle commenced.

It was long as it was tense. The two forces put their everything into thier battle. The mere sight of their exchanging strikes was legendary, it was one of the most epic battle in the history of Lore's battles. After several hours of non-stop combat, James delivered his finishing blow from below while Ghin struck from above. The battle had finally ended in a flash of light, Ghin fell to the ground where else James arose in victory.

"Finish me off, noble Guardian. Unless you are a coward!"But every piece of hatred in James' heart was conquered and eliminated by his willpower. James last words to the fallen AntiGuardian were:"A true hero never kills. Can't you see, a person with true strength isn't someone with the most brute force, it's someone with love and good feelings in their heart. Someone as dark and inhumane as you could never understand true strength. You could have not turned yourself into a demon but you sought strength through dark means. So now you are the insect, the insect who did not follow the rightful path of humans and was consumed by your own hate and mind. Now go, knowing the real you!"

Ghin was furious at James' last words. His eyes were as red as molten lava but all his words were true. So, Ghin vanished in a bolt of darkness and James was declared a hero. After all his heroic deeds to Battleon, the Guardians proudly chose James to be their Commander. So from then on he was known as Commander Hexus Omega of Battleon.

And that is the life and experiences of James Viollus, Commander Hexus Omega, the Protector of Battleon and Hero of Lore. Now, at 40 years old, he continues to protect Battleon from the rising forces of evil. But now he has two loved ones with him, his wife (Guardian)Janelle Lux, and John Viollus II, his 14-year-old son.

Who knows what might happen in Lore's future?

< Message edited by GRDN -- 6/20/2012 8:52:19 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 12
6/10/2012 21:25:11   

Wolf Rider of DFQ&A/GD/Guides/RP

AQ Character Name: Coaxoch
AQ Character ID: 28315599
Name of your Story: The Truth Behind the Smile

Greetings, mortal.

No. Don’t bother looking around. By the time you’ve located the general direction my voice is coming from I’ll have already moved.

Very well. Go ahead and look around like a scared rabbit if you must. Your antics and attempts to find me are amusing. And so little amuses me these days.

I was human once. I laughed, I cried, I had emotions like everyone else. Not anymore. Now I simply do the tasks I am assigned without hesitation. Without question.

I used to question, you know. Years ago when I was still a fool. But questioning led to hardship on my part. So I learned the most important lesson of my life: Keep your mouth shut. When your opinion is wanted it will be given to you.

As I look at you, scared rabbit that you are, I almost pity you. From how obviously terrified you are, you haven’t done anything wrong. Or at least, nothing wrong that is worth more than a moment’s thought or regret. Yet here you are, and here I am. Looking down at you, my mark, and laughing at your terror. Or I would be if I were still capable of laughter. That was the last thing they took from me, you see. The first to go was my ability to cry. I still can, of course. My eyes water when the wind bites them the same as any other human. But I have no emotions.

They made sure of it.

Oh, did I scare you by pulling out a blade? Good. You’re more unfortunate than my other marks. You see, this time I don’t have anywhere to be until sunup. Which, as you can see, is quite a few hours away. While this would normally not be a misfortune for you as I tend to have no desire to linger, tonight I’m in a rare mood. It’s been awhile since I allowed myself to play with my rabbits. But tonight, I think, I’ll indulge myself.

Yes. Scream. Scream as long and as loudly as you like. We’re all alone in here. And there’s no one around to hear you scream. I’m a professional. I wouldn’t leave an opening like that. Not if I plan on talking. I’m unusually chatty tonight, you see. And I have the strangest desire to tell you about me. I don’t see the harm in it. They say confession is good for the soul and all that. And I can trust you to keep my secrets. And the night’s still young. I have plenty of time.

Who am I, you ask? Well I thought it was obvious. My name is Zarra. And this is your last night alive.

Where shall I begin my tale? Perhaps the beginning is the most fitting place to start. You’ll have to forgive me my clumsiness. I’ve never told my tale before. Never felt the desire to. So there is every chance I’ll become bored of this and simply do the deed. And those chances increase every moment you don’t shut your pathetic mouth and keep begging me to spare you. Much better. Were you never taught that it’s rude to talk when someone is addressing you? But now that I am convinced that I have your complete, undivided attention, I’ll start my tale. You should be grateful. This is the longest any of my rabbits has lived. Now, then. The beginning of my tale.

I was twelve when it happened. My town was being attacked. Being too young to fight myself, and, I’m ashamed to say, a coward, I hid under my bed. I remember all too-well the sound of the door being forcefully opened. My parent’s screams as they begged for mercy are ingrained into my memory. Once it filled me with sadness and despair. Now I’m simply disgusted at how pitiful they were.

They found me, of course. The bed does not make for the best of hiding places, and in my cowardice I was sobbing. I was forcibly dragged from my hiding place, and one of the members pointed his blade at me, a blade very much like the ones I carry now.

For reasons I still don’t understand their leader ordered him to stop. I was stood up and looked at as if I was an interesting thing to study. Apparently he saw in me something he liked. He demanded I tell him my name. In a small, disgustingly shaky voice, I answered. He then ordered the men and women with him to bring me.

How long we walked is forever a mystery to me. In my shock and childish terror, I had no concept of time. The trip from my home in Granemore to the run-down town of Krovesport—surely the bowels of this Avatar-forsaken world considering the type of people who live there—was both endless and took merely seconds. I could have been on that long road for a few minutes or several weeks and would not have known. Where in Krovesport, I cannot say, but you would feel at home there if you were of my kin. Once we had arrived, my life as I knew it was over, and my new life had begun.

From the first, I was shown no mercy. I was thrown into an arena, given a wooden stave along with a boy about my age and was given one command: fight. I had never fought before. It was a terrifying experience. The boy, already hardened by the trainings he was given, defeated me in moments. He was led out and another boy was brought in. I was again given the command to fight. I lasted less time than the first battle, already badly injured from my first fight. Again another opponent was sent to me, a girl this time.

The cycle repeated until the tenth battle, when I finally received common sense, picked up my weapon, and fought with everything I had in me. I was fortunate that this opponent was as tired as I was, and roughly as beaten. I won that battle and finally was led out of the room. I was given a meager meal and the smallest amount of medical attention. When I was fool enough to cry about my wounds I was soundly slapped and told to ‘deal with it.’

Those first weeks were much like the first day. I was given small amounts of sleep and thrown into countless battles, given a small reprieve only after I won. At the end of the first week I was again led into the arena, but instead of one person there were hundreds of us. All of us tired, all of us beaten.

“You will step forward when your name is called,” a voice, one I recognized as the man who spared my life a week ago, said.

He then called out the first name. A boy by the name of Kyle. A set of numbers were read out. “Two hundred eighty out of three hundred fifty. Pass.” At the word ‘pass’ he was led to the other side of the arena, facing us.

Five names followed, all of them passed. Passed what, I did not know, And I did not know the significance of this. I learned.

“Nina. One hundred out of three hundred fifty. Fail.” To my horror, at the word ‘fail’ one of the several people in the room unsheathed a dagger I had not seen before he drew it and, before my eyes, killed the sobbing girl. Right then I prayed to whoever was listening that when my name was called, I had not failed.

The next ten people all failed. Then the moment I was most afraid of came. My name was called.

“Zarra.” I stepped forward on badly shaking legs. The voice seemed to take forever to speak.

“Two hundred sixty out of three hundred fifty...” It seemed to be an eternity where I stood in fear that the next word would be ‘fail.’ “Pass.” Pathetically, I wept for joy that my life would be spared. As the final names were read, I watched, almost unaware of the deaths and the blood that stained the dirt. I was in a haze of euphoria.

“Two hundred fifty of you were brought here. Now only one hundred remain,” the voice, the one I would learn to call ‘Master’ said tonelessly. “Rest today. For tomorrow the real training begins.” For the first time in a week I was given a proper, if small, meal. To my surprise I was allowed time to eat, whereas before if I didn’t finish my meager portions in a very small amount of time, my meal was taken from me as I was forced back into the arena.

The woman who I had come to recognize as the one who always escorted me walked over once I was finished and led me to my new room. It was sparse, containing only a cot, a dresser, and, to my surprise, a weapons rack. On the bed was a set of clothes, and a look around showed the rest of my clothing to be the same. A simple black outfit, tight enough to not be cumbersome, but loose enough to not restrict movement, and a black pair of boots, at least I believed them to be boots considering their length, but there was no heel. My musings and exploration were cut short when the woman, whose name I at that point did not know, started speaking.

“Personally I didn’t think you would survive the first day. I was certain that you would become my mark. But The Master never brings someone inside our halls that he does not see potential in. Starting tomorrow you will be trained in various skills you will need to survive among us, starting with stealth. You will learn to move silently and blend into the shadows. If in a month’s time you have not become at least proficient in this, you will be killed.” I gulped and my eyes widened in fear. I had falsely believed that, now that my life had been spared once, it would not be in danger here. I was wrong. “But for now, it is my duty to welcome you, Zarra, to the home of the assassins.”

Don’t try to leave, rabbit. I have barely started my tale. You truly are lacking in manners. You have tried that same door no less than fifty times in the past half hour, and the other three doors twenty times, thirty-five times, and forty times, respectively. The one window here, despite being too small for you to squeeze through, no matter how you contort, even if you were somehow able to open it or break the glass, you have tried twenty-four times. At some point you will have to realize that all the possible openings are locked from the outside, and unless you have had years of training, you’ll never be able to climb up here and escape through the one opening still available, the one I plan on using to leave.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I thought I had earned my life. In my childish manners then, I had believed that I would be all right. I was wrong. They had left me alive, but my life had ended.

The first day of my new life I was harshly woken up and told to 'get dressed or be killed.' Then after a meager meal, I was put into a dark room and given the order 'hide yourself.' I found myself uncertain of what to do as, despite the darkness of the room, there were few true hiding places that I could discern. I stumbled around in the dark until I found something tall and wide enough to squeeze behind.

I had just settled myself when I felt a blade at my throat.

“If you make so much noise, a deaf man could find you,” a woman hissed in my ear. I winced as the room was suddenly flooded with torchlight, temporarily blinding me.

“Know this, Zarra,” the woman said coldly. “Were you not new, I would kill you for that mistake.” I was led from the room and told to wait. Judging by the sounds from beyond the door, I assumed that the few items that could be were being rearranged.

A few minutes later I was thrown back into the room and told again to hide myself. Again, moments after I found a hiding place there was a blade at my throat. For hours this exercise repeated. In my childishness, I feared that if I continued failing this test, I would be killed before the month was completed.

After several hours, I was yet again led from the room and given my meager portion of a meal. In my exhausted state, it felt like I had only barely begun to eat before being harshly escorted from the meal and again thrown into the dark room.

Finally, after yet more hours, it clicked. Instead of stumbling around blindly, I stood for a few moments, remembering an old tale I had heard once that said that in dark rooms, your other senses heightened. I learned that this was at least partially true, for as I stood there I was able to make out vague shapes. As I headed towards what was probably the hiding place I had tried the last few hundred times, I thought I saw the smallest of movements. Fearing another blade, I froze before running towards a small space. Thanking whoever was listening for my small stature, I managed to squeeze into it.

I had barely entered it when the room was again flooded with light.

“It's about time, Zarra,” the woman who had been holding a knife to my throat all day said. “I was starting to think you would never learn.” In my exhaustion, all I was aware of was that, for once, there wasn't a blade to my throat. I was led from the room and given a proper meal, and even allowed time to eat it before being escorted to my room.

Such was my life for the month. Every day I was placed into a room and told to hide myself. In the first days my eyes adjusted so that I could see almost perfectly in low light. As the month passed, the room I was to conceal myself in became brighter, and hiding places became scarcer. I was convinced that no one would be able to learn to hide in such bright areas in a month. It appeared, however, that the law of this place was 'learn quickly or die' and I did not want to die. Against all belief, I had learned to conceal myself in the smallest of shadows. I had earned another month of food and breath.

At the end of the month, again the one hundred of us were brought into an arena. Again the master announced our names, followed by the words 'pass' or 'fail.' I saw twenty people fall that day. Again I was lead to my room. Again I was told that if I didn't learn what I was meant to learn in a month, I would be killed.

The second month was easier than the first. It was a continuation of my prior training. Apparently I wasn't yet good enough at blending into the shadows. I was told that if I had not mastered it, I would be killed. At the end of the month, yet again, we were brought into the arena. Six more fell. Our number was now seventy-four.

The third month, I was given a blade and forced into an arena with a boy my age.

“Fight to kill, or don't bother fighting,” was the order given.

For hours, I fought, barely able to hold onto the dagger. Numerous times I was certain my life was over. But apparently we were only to fight to kill, for every time my existence was spared. The woman whose name I had never learned, but whose face I would recognize anywhere came over and handed me two smaller daggers.

“The Master has ordered that you use these instead,” she said coldly before walking off. The new daggers were smaller, and fit more comfortably in my hands. Receiving blades that I could comfortably hold was a boon, but I still did not know how to use them. I remembered the desperation from the first week, and slashed the daggers wildly with all I had. I was sloppy, but it was enough to earn my meager meals.

Over the next four months I improved with the daggers, receiving small training in their use from Syndrina. Yes. After months of seeing her my mentor finally told me her name. Or at least the name I was to call her. I have never learned if that was her true name or not. I have never cared to.

When I was not fighting, my training continued in other ways. I was taught to conceal various weapons on my person. I had to learn to notice the smallest of details, and adapt to situations in seconds. I learned to move silently, and blend into the smallest of shadows. The changes in myself were so subtle not even I noticed them. With the threat of death constantly hanging over me, I stopped fearing it. Fear was a useless emotion that merely distracted me from my training. I had long since stopped crying over the deaths of my fellow 'trainees' instead being relieved that I was not among them. I was slowly closing off my emotions. So slowly not even I was aware of it happening.

After ten months of existing with the assassins, I had become adept at many of the skills. Many more I was still struggling with. Blade work being chief among those skills. Knowing that the fact that no one had been killed in months was a sign that we needed to be perfect or we would surely die, I practiced constantly. Slowly but surely my skill in the arena improved. My mentor noticed. But more importantly The Master noticed.

After a year of training, things started changing. I was told in advance when I would appear in the arena. At first I was confused. But when I appeared in the arena only to be attacked by my opponent whose presence I hadn't been aware of I understood. This was a new test. Combining all of our training. I was determined not to make the same mistake twice.

The next time I was told in advance when my arena appearance was, I immediately headed there, pocketing numerous blades and settling into my hiding place. When the order to fight came, nothing happened. Apparently my opponent had also hidden, and neither of us was willing to reveal our location to the other. It became a waiting game. A game I was determined to win.

Silently, moving nothing but my eyes, I looked around the arena, paying close attention to the darkest shadows, knowing that the same was being done by my opponent. I heard a noise to my left and quickly but silently turned my head, throwing one my daggers in that direction as I did so and quickly darting to a new hiding place. After I had reached it, I cursed my stupidity. I had given myself away and worse, I was down a blade. My opponent had the advantage in every sense of the word.

I had little time to regret my choice, however, for my opponent attacked. She and I had the same goal in mind: 'survive.' We both attacked as hard and as fast as we could, both looking for openings in the other.

“Halt!” At the order of The Master we both froze. This voice whose face we had never seen had defined our lives. His word was ours to obey. We were dismissed from the room and I left to clean my wounds and then I trained privately. I went over the battle in my mind, knowing that my main mistake was to reveal my location foolishly like I had.

After six months of the new arena battles, Syndrina entered my room.

“I would never have believed it to be possible when I first saw you and your scrawny size, but you passed the tests. You have but one final test remaining. If you pass, you will live. If you fail-”

“I will die. I am aware,” I answered simply. This was a familiar knowledge. “What is the test?” Syndrina, looking irritated at being interrupted, handed me an envelope. “The details are in there. Read the instructions, memorize them, and then burn them.” After relaying the message, she walked out.

I silently opened the envelope. Inside was a picture of a girl whose face I recognized from the arena. Behind it was a piece of paper with writing on it. I looked at the writing and felt the blood leave my face at what I saw.

”The girl is named Ana. She has not become skilled enough to earn her life. You are ordered to kill her within the next week. How you do so is up to you, but you must not be seen. We are watching you.”

In hindsight, I should not have been surprised at what I saw. For over a year now, the threat of death had been hanging over my head. In every arena battle, the order had been to fight to kill. I was naïve to have thought that being welcomed into the home of the assassins hadn't meant that I would have to kill at some point.

After a few minutes to compose myself, I again looked at the picture and the instructions. A second look at the instructions showed that I had overlooked the bottom of the parchment. It was a small map of the compound, with her room marked. I spent a few minutes committing my mark, as well as the exact location of her room, to memory. I then walked over to a candle, lit it, and held the instructions over the flame.

I spent the next week studying my mark. Observing everything she did, quietly following her to her room. When she was not there I slipped inside and surveyed it, looking for a place to hide.

I could see why she was to be killed. She had grown complacent. There were numerous places I could hide as a result of her carelessness. I also noticed that her weapons, when not on her person, were far away from her bed, as evidenced by the slight scratches on the wood of where they were placed.

Hearing footsteps outside her room, I quickly darted into a hiding place, squeezing myself behind a dresser that had just enough room for someone of my small stature. I quietly studied her movements, barely daring to breath as my orders were to not be seen.

She was careless, believing herself to be safe in her room. She set her weapons down and, after barely a glance around her room, turned off her lights and slipped into her bed. I waited for her breath to even out into natural sleep and quietly slipped out of my hiding place.

I quietly walked to her, grabbing one of my daggers as I did. I held my blade ready to kill her.

To my shame, I hesitated. Hands unstained by blood unwilling to do the deed. I coldly reminded myself that it was her own fault for growing complacent. Her death was my order, and it meant my survival. Quickly and silently I forced myself to fulfill my orders, cleaning up once I was certain she was dead. I have felt no emotions since.

I quietly walked back to my own room, seeing Syndrina as I walked in.

“It's done,” I said simply. Syndrina nodded and walked to Ana's room to confirm that she was indeed dead.

“Well done, Zarra,” she said as she returned. “You have passed all of the tests. Your life with us is now guaranteed. As long as, of course, you complete your missions as you are ordered.” I simply nodded and went to bed. The next morning, for the last time, I was led into the arena.

I quickly counted. There had been seventy-four last time we were all here. Now there were only thirty-seven.

“Congratulations on surviving,” The Master said, stepping out of the shadows. For the first time, I saw his face. I was struck by how ordinary he looked. For the past two years, he had been nothing but a voice. Considering the absolute obedience he had from us all, I had assumed that he would certainly be a large, powerful man. Instead, he looked no different from the people in the room.

And that was how I learned my final lesson. The best assassins are the ones that you do not recognize as such. The ones that you pass every day and do not know have been studying your every move to get you alone. So that you can be killed with no witnesses.

In the years to come, I perfected my skills. I killed at The Master’s order, becoming a weapon for Him to use just as I used mine. Just as my blades are an extension of myself, so I was an extension of Him. As He wished, I moved. Perfectly obedient. Perfectly loyal. Anything else is to wish death upon myself. Your death is His wish, and I obey without question.

But now, I am afraid, rabbit, that your time is up. I have told my tale. So now you are to die.

Wait? What are you doing? How long have you been chanting? I was not informed that you had magic. If I had been, you would have been killed long before now. Stop that chanting!

I find myself in... I don't know where I am. It looks like a black, empty, void. No. Not empty. I see a boat of some sort approaching me. The man, at least I believe it to be a man, is a sight to behold. Long robes, and a face like Death itself. Then I understand it. Somehow, inconceivably, I had been killed. My Mark. My pathetic, snivling Mark had killed me. Were I still capable of emotion, I imagine I would be furious. Instead I am still. Calm. Focused. I quickly and quietly take in my surroundings, including the man in the boat that had finally reached me. The man with the appearance of Death. I quietly remind myself that it's not just an appearance. That this was, in fact, Death himself I was looking at. He says that he'll spare me if I agree to owe him a favor. Apparently Death has a quota that he doesn't wish to go over. I almost say 'no.' I don't repay favors. It goes against my nature. But then I hesitate. I had been killed while on a mission. I had to complete it. My Mark would die by my hands yet. I agree to his proposition. Perhaps in the future when he calls on this favor I will kill him, too.

It is an odd feeling, being dead. I feel myself moving through what I assume is a portal of some sort, though not being an expert on portals I have no way of knowing for certain. I see the place I have ended up. It is not the building I was in. I can barely see it, but the few clear details tell me that it is bright, cheerful. Disgustingly so. Shocked, weakened, and in a surprising amount of pain, I pass out.

When I awaken, there is a man in front of me in paladin armor. He has a friendly smile on his face.

“Greetings! My name is Artix von Krieger.” I tune him out for a moment, shock at my complete failure hitting me hard. I feel as weak as I did when I was twelve. My memories of my life clear, but my skills lost. For the first time in years, I feel something. It is the greatest of despair. For the first time since I earned my survival, since I had completed my training, I had failed. Even as I feel disgusted with myself for letting emotions I had thought long-since killed through, I cannot stop this all-powerful despair from gripping me. Were I any weaker of character, I would have fallen to my knees. But I am not. I am Zarra. I am one of the best assassins in my home. And I would regain that which had been stolen from me.

I look past him. I recognize this town. It's a little but well-known town called 'Battleon.' I had heard rumors of this place. Where there was a magic mirror that could change my appearance. And then I remember another rumor I had heard. Those who are strong enough can become assassins. The despair leaves me and a new emotion takes its place. It is longing. Longing to return to my roots. Longing to again become a shadow in the night. An invisible assailant that kills without being seen. And never leaves witnesses.

I look at Artix. He is still talking to me. I force the emotions aside as I had learned to do years ago and focused solely on his words.

“So... what is your name? I would be happy to call you anything you would like!”

I nearly answer 'Zarra' but then I remember one more crucial detail. My mark knows my name. He saw my face. He would remember me. This was a chance to start fresh. To relearn my skills and more importantly, disguise myself so that he would not recognize me should he see me again.

Because he will see me again. I will change my name. My appearance. I will play along and act as I am supposed to act. Fill whatever role is expected of me. But my memories will remain strong. I will not forget the name and face of my mark. Whatever it was he did to me was probably designed to erase all of my memories as well as my skills. He would have no reason to change his name or his face. I will regain my skills, and then I will kill him.

I look at Artix, remembering that he had asked what my name was.

“Coaxoch,” I say with a smile. It is my first false smile of what is sure to be many. I listen to Artix explain everything about the town as I conceal my daggers. I was going to need them very soon. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. I grin ferally at the site of my mark. His days were numbered. The Hunt had begun.

< Message edited by Gingkage -- 6/30/2012 4:20:43 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 13
6/13/2012 0:47:51   
Legendary AK!!!

AQ Character name: November *Nova* Geryon
AQ Character ID: 176960
Name of Story: The Oath I Swore.
Summary: A series of shorts about the life of Nicholas Geraldine, revolving around the oaths he took.

Chapter 1: Taking the Pledge.
“Look at you… All grown up.” Mother stroked a hand down my cheek. I brushed it away, cheeks flaming red. “Mother! I’m eighteen, I’m not a child anymore!”

“Not a child, but not a man, either.” A deep, male voice spoke quietly from behind me. I rolled my eyes.

“Jimmy! Can’t you show a little more concern for your son? He’s entering the Forces today, and that’s all you can say?” My mum shot an annoyed look past me.

Today was the day that I had been both dreading and waiting for. Months ago, a couple of friends and I had decided to join up with the Adventurers, in the hopes of becoming a Guardian. We had come of age last year. The decision was in no small part due to pride. My father had been a Guardian once, yet, he resigned and had turned to farming. I could not understand it. How could one give up the honour of serving the Kingdom? This honourable Kingdom of Battleonia, where through the seasons, Adventurers and Guardians stood proud against the monsters of the land.

I shot a look at the suit of armour that stood in the corner of the room, beside it, standing upright was a sword and shield. I had never seen my father unsheathe the weapon, although I had seen many a Guardian Blade. Upon the chestplate, three stripes, the three chevrons of a 3rd Sergeant. It stood there, regal and unused.

As my mother went upstairs, fussing about what I was to bring to enlist, my father finally walked over to me. We never had the best relationship. My interests had never coincided with his, and it had only gotten worse through my teen years. “Boy…” he stood in front of me, hands in his pockets, staring down at my feet. He opened his mouth, but it seemed as if he was at a loss for words. “I’ll always be proud of you.”

My eyes widened involuntarily, and a part of me recognized how difficult this was for my father. He had never been an emotional person, and while I had previously faulted him for that, today I was going, and only the Lords knew when I would see my family again.

A lump rose in my throat, but I fought it down. “Goodbye, Father.”

He only nodded, turning away.

I grabbed the duffel which I had prepared days before. The enlistment letter had come with instructions on the few personal things that I would need. Everything else, weapons, armour, food and other clothing, the Guardians would provide.

I stepped out of the house. Immediately noticing that around the area, a couple of boys my age were saying their goodbyes to their family. Was this how they were feeling as well? My heart wavered for a moment before I steeled myself. I had made this choice. I would see it through. A couple of my neighbors fell into step with me as I walked. I nodded to them, and together, we walked, scared, excited and anticipating.

The fortress of the Military was huge. It was a fortress, holding four Battalions of Adventurers and Guardians at any one time, ready to be mobilized for war. We were guided into the Fortress and into a hall where we were told to give identification tokens to the Mages at the tables.

I pulled my token from my pocket, handing it over to the Mage at the counter. He picked it up, waving a hand over it as he muttered a few words. Words began to glow on the paper in front of him. “Nicholas Geraldine?”

“Yes sir.” He nodded, tossing my citizenship token into a tin. From a pile of tokens, he motioned to it, and a token was summoned to him. “Your military token. Do not lose it. When you retire, you will trade it for your civilian one.” I nodded, accepting the token from him. I returned to my seat, fiddling with the token in my hand. As I stared at the token, I suddenly felt very scared. I was an Adventurer, an Adventurer of Battleon.

I didn’t feel like one. I was a boy, thrown into a place where men fought for their lives against monsters. How could I possibly be a Guardian?

“Recruits! Attention!” A voice boomed. “I am Staff Sergeant Raj, your sergeant major. All of you are now part of Apache Company. Look beside you, for the people beside you will be faces that you’ll be spending nine weeks with. You will sweat together, sleep together and you will bleed together. Now, you are to learn the Adventurer’s Pledge. You will recite it loud, clear, and with pride, am I understood?”

A few muffled “Yes”s came from the crowd, I didn’t even make a sound. “I SAID, AM I UNDERSTOOD?!” he bellowed. Shocked out of my misery, I responded, along with a number of voices around me. “YES SERGEANT MAJOR!”

“Good! After you learn the pledge, your Company Officer will swear all of you in as Adventurers. Repeat after me!”

And the Sergeant Major gave us the first lesson as a recruit in the Battleonia Armed Forces, the Adventurer's Pledge.

It wasn’t long before we had learnt it, and another man came in, dressed in full armour with two black bars on his chest. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Lieutenant Jeremy Winters. I will be your Company Commander for your next nine weeks. For now, raise your right hand and place it over your heart and swear your fealty to His Majesty as an Adventurer of the Kingdom. Repeat after me.”

Adventurer of the Armed Forces of Battleonia
Do solemnly and sincerely pledge
That I will always
Bear true faith and allegiance
To my lord, his Majesty of Battleonia.
Will preserve and protect
The honour and independence of our land
With my life.”

Never before in my eighteen years of life did words ring with such emptiness. I was shouting the pledge at the top of my lungs because someone had told me to. I understood the words, but what did they mean?

I didn’t know.

Chapter 2: Receiving my blade.
“ACTIVATED AND YOU STILL CAN STILL TAKE YOUR TIME TO DO YOUR LACES! NEVER MIND!” My mind registered the words being screamed, but I was far too busy lacing up the leggings, however, between the panic and the sudden activation in the middle of the night, lacing them properly was taking too much time, my other section-mates were already suiting up in their Steel Plates. I cursed under my breath as Desmond Peddlar, the “buddy” attached to me, worked on my other set of laces with frantic hands.

It was about three minutes later that we assembled in the courtyard in armour and field pack. Once everyone was accounted for, off we marched, into the wilderness. Disoriented from the lack of sleep, it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other, following the person in front of me. Finally, we reached our destination… the parade ground four kilometres away from our bunks.

I knew some big shot colonel was talking about the late night march being a tradition, but I really didn’t care. I was dead on my feet in the middle of a stupid parade ground on a cold night. I wasn’t the only one swaying in the file and closing our ears to whatever the idiot said. Finally, after a ten minute speech, he said the words that woke me up. “Now, your commanders will issue you your Long Swords.”

It finally clicked, the night activation, the march, and finally receiving our weapons. It was this, receiving our weapons. The Long Sword, one of the most basic weapons in Battleon’s army. It seemed like forever before my named was called. As I stood in front of my sergeant, who held out the sheathed blade, I swallowed. This… this was a weapon. A real, honest to god weapon. The potential of death within this blade struck me, hard. A single swing could end a life. Life was so easily ended. That was what made it all the more precious.

For the first time in my life, I held a weapon in my hands.

I was scared.

Chapter 3: My Oath is to my Men.
“Corporal Nicholas Geraldine reporting as ordered, Sir.” I saluted. Lieutenant Desmond Peddlar nodded to me, “At ease, take a seat, Nic.”

“Sir-” He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t ‘Sir’ me, Nic, not behind closed doors.” He sighed. “Look, Nic, we’ve known each other for five years since we entered basic training together. But you cannot go on doing such crap and expecting to get away with it.”

I sighed, slouching a bit. “Des. You know as well as I do all those orders I did not agree with were all crap.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nic, look. You’ve been a Corporal in the Dragoons for three years now. You’ve served in so many wars and campaigns that I can’t even keep track of the badges you’ve been awarded for your participation in them, not to mention the medals awarded for valor. Hell, while I was off in officer training, you were fighting wars. Look, I get that you’re more experienced that most of us, but you do NOT go around telling a Sergeant, fresh from specialist school he may be, that he’s giving wrong orders!”

I stood, my back ramrod straight, my face emotionless. What did he know? He knew nothing of what I had gone through while he was off in officer school. While I had bled, fighting for my life and nearly getting my burnt ass handed to me by Akriloth he had been training in Dwarfhold mountains. We may have fought together in many wars since, but nothing was as terrifying as the great Dragon Akriloth treating you as if you were just an insect and flicking you away.

“Look Nic, I’ve read your file. I know what happened. That incident and us being friends since we were in Basic is all that’s keeping me from court marshaling you for insubordination. My Sergeants aren’t happy. They recognize the fact that you’ve been around far longer than they have, and they respect that, but you cannot continue doing this without expecting to be punished.”

“Then punish me.” I rolled my eyes. What punishment could be worse than what I had already endured? My whole section burnt to a crisp after my stupid Sergeant had lead a charge that had lead us straight to Akriloth. The only reason the burst of flame had missed me was that, stupidly enough, I had tripped over a rock.

“But that won’t help either. Nicholas. You’ve refused two promotions to Sergeant in the last two years I took over command of this company. I ask, why?” Desmond finally stood up, the hard look in his eyes matching mine.

“My oath is to my comrades, not some faceless bastard who sits on his throne all day.” I snarled. “If an order is crap, I’ll say so. That day, I said nothing and my whole section was killed in front of my eyes. I will not stand by and do nothing when I know better.”

His eyes softened somewhat, “And that’s the reason why you would have made a great NCO… But it’s a little too late for that.”


Desmond picked up an envelope. “We wondered why you didn’t want promotion to Sergeant. The Captain thought you were holding out for an offer of commission. This, is a letter bearing his signature for recommendation to Officer School, but he needs my signature as a second officer to back up this recommendation.

“I don’t want a command, Des, I’m happy where I am, a Corporal.”

He snorted. “Don’t kid yourself. You were never happy just following. If you were happy to follow, you wouldn’t be getting yourself into trouble by speaking up. The Nicholas I knew was never happy to simply follow orders. He always thought through them for their rationale before he followed them. He was never just a good soldier… And that’s why I signed it. I’m giving you an ultimatum, Nic, go to Officer School, or I will court martial you for insubordination.

I growled, but he met my gaze squarely. He was right. I hated following, but I hated leaving my men behind even more. I may not have been a Sergeant, but as a senior Corporal, these were men I trained. “Can I get assigned back to the 3rd after the course?” I asked quietly.

He only snorted. “If you get your commission, I’ll get you back, meanwhile, I’ve got a new Sergeant for the section. You’ll like her, if you can get your head out of your ass. She’s… feisty.” Desmond added as an afterthought.

I only rolled my eyes, grabbing the letter off his hands. “I’ll be back.”

Chapter 4: I... Am an Officer...
“Stay with me! C’mon Nic!”I was being moved, that much I knew. My vision, terribly blurry, my body, weak. A face too blurry for me to make out looked over me, and the next thing I felt was a sting on my cheek and a change in vision. Did I just get slapped?

“Water! Everyone get your canteens out! Get him out of that damned Plate and get water on him now!” A voice yelled. I could feel hands scramble on what I thought were the latches on my Guardian Plate. Suddenly, comparatively cooler air hit my body.

“He’s not sweating!” Someone shouted.

“Screw modesty! Strip him down! Dump the water on him! C’mon cadets MOVE! Sebestian! You’re the fastest, ditch your gear and run ahead back to base, make sure the Healers are ready to receive him.” More hands grabbed onto the linen I wore, and I could hear the rips of cloth. Sweat soaked clothes were pulled away, exposing my whole body to the dry air of the Skraeling desert. Water was splashed onto me. It felt… good…

There was a shout of “Yes m’am!” before more clanging rang through the air. “C’mon Nic…” I was on a stretcher, being moved. It was with great difficulty that I shifted my head, trying to focus my eyes on my training officer. Her face kept shifting in an out of focus. “NICHOLAS GERALDINE! YOU STAY WITH ME!” Another smack landed on my face, and even though I was stunned, my vision came back into focus.

“CADET! You were a CORPORAL for THREE YEARS. You survived WARS with injuries worse than this! You are NOT going to die from a stupid HEAT INJURY!” Training Officier Captain Elle Ward roared into my face.

My mind snapped back into focus. Right now, I was Officer Cadet Nicholas Geraldine, but before this, I was Corporal Nicholas Geraldine, survivor of more than ten wars in three years of active duty. With great effort, I grit my teeth. “That’s it, Cadet! Stay awake, with me!” My fingers twitched, and she grabbed my hand with her gauntlet covered one. My vision began to blur yet again. I could see her mouth moving… But I couldn’t hear…

Another smack across the face, this time with a gauntlet covered arm. “REPEAT AFTER ME! I”

I struggled to whisper. “I”

Her eyes widened, and she continued, “Am an officer of the Armed Forces of Battleonia.”

“Am… an officer… of the Armed Forces… of Battleonia.” It took all of my willpower to remember the words, to recite them.

“My duty is to lead, excel and to overcome.” Her breath was uneven, panting.

“My …duty is to lead… excel and to… overcome.” I was aware that we were moving, but I believed in the people around me. They were running as quickly as they could carrying the stretcher… Wait, when did I get on the stretcher?

“I lead my men by example.”

“I… Lead my men by example.” Faces flashed through my mind, the men and women of the Dragoons I left behind for Officer training. Men and women I made a promise to, a promise to return to the Dragoons.”

“I lead with pride, honour and integrity.”

“I lead… with pride, honour… and integrity.” Memories flashed, times where I spoke up for my men for their sake, and getting punished for it.

“We’re almost there Nic! Just a bit longer! I will overcome adversity with courage, fortitude and determination.”

“I will overcome adversity with courage… fortitude… determination.” I somehow found the strength to clench my fist tight around the hand holding mine. I refused. I refused to die here.

“I dedicate my life to Battleonia.”

“I dedicate… my life… To Battleonia!” I snarled, as alert as I could possibly be, I growled “Don’t… let me… sleep.” I looked into my Captain’s eyes. She returned a grim and determined look. “I won’t, Cadet.”

Chapter 5: To Lead
“Dammit…” consciousness was slow to return to me. Last thing I remembered was a group of Shadow creatures crashing into the flanks of my Dragoons. Somewhere, something had gone badly wrong with the defence. I was, however, incredibly happy to be alive, although I definitely had better days.

“Sir! You’re awake!” a familiar voice exclaimed. I shook my head in an attempt to clear my vision. I struggled to sit up, gritting my teeth. “Branford, get some water for Lieutenant Geraldine.”

“I will, Sarge.” Another familiar voice… Cecil Branford, I think, a private fresh out of dragoon training. The black haired woman came into view, her face stained with dirt, the once shiny plate of her UltraGuardian armour was dull with dirt and dust, and patches of red blood. Her Guardian Spear was likewise stained as well.

“Shadowsong… What the hell happened? How long was I out?” I groaned, shifting my head looking to my left, to my relief, my Spear of Awe stood against the wall.

“You were out for five hours. They got us good, sir. Hit us from the flank just as we charged in. The Seekrat got smart, his Shadow Creatures are making Guardians their primary targets and more or less ignoring the Adventurers… Maddy and Adrian both were both gone within the first few seconds. They nearly got you as well.”

I closed my eyes. 3rd Sergeants Madison and Adrian had been capable subordinates and good friends. I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, regaining control of myself. I opened my eyes, meeting Min’s eyes squarely. “What’s the current strength?”

She flinched when she heard the question, and refused to meet my eyes, she bit her lip, and the silence was suddenly tense. “No…” I muttered, my mind comprehending.

“It wasn’t your fault, Nic-”

“But it was! I should have foreseen that, I anticipated a flank on your end, I could have seen it!”

The blunt end of her spear slammed into the ground, she stood tall, addressing me formally again. “Sir, with all due respect, no one could have foreseen that attack, those Shadow Creatures materialized out of thin air and hit Adrian’s section hard. Maddy’s section went in to help, but they were overwhelmed. When we smashed into the enemy, Jon got his section to cover your left, and that’s the only thing that saved you. Jon shoved you onto his mount and told him to run. He bought you the time.” Min stood tall, but I could hear the grief in her voice. She was still avoiding the question.

I growled. “How. Many. Casualties.”

Min closed her eyes. “Twenty-six from our platoon. Total survivors of the 3rd dragoons is thirty. Besides you and me, they’re all Adventurers.”

I closed my eyes again, faces swimming through my memory. My fellow Guardians whom I had trained with side by side for years were now gone. So many of them gone, just like that.

“Sergeant, water for the Lieutenant.” Branford had returned. I looked at him, gone was the boyish smile. His face too, was streaked with dirt, and he was currently un-armoured and shirtless, a large bandage covering his side. “Sir.” He began to salute, but I shook my head, “At ease.” With an effort, I sat up, taking the water he offered. “Thank you, Private.”

“Ermm… Sir, Sergeant… When I was out getting the water… I heard some news.” He stood back, clearly uncomfortable. I took a swig from the canteen, savouring the liquid going down my parched throat. I nodded to him, indicating for him to carry on.

“Sir, you’re really not going to like what I heard…”

“Cut the crap, Private.” Min snapped, “If you’ve got something to say, say it, if not, shut up.”

He swallowed. “Sir, I heard rumours that… You’re the last officer of the task force still alive.”

I choked, spitting out the water. “What?! What the hell happened to the General?” My mouth hung open in shock. From the side, Min remained quiet, I shot a look at her, but did not question her lack of response.

Cecil continued, “Rumours say that the Shadow Creatures which got us also popped up behind our lines and took out the General. Battleon high command sent us a couple of Wizards who can stop them from materializing in an area, that’s why we’re not being attacked here.”

I frowned, calming myself. “Private, assemble the remaining Dragoons from the third in the mess in three hours.”

“Yes sir.” He saluted, and ran off.

“Min, talk to me.” I looked at the 3rd Sergeant. She sighed yet again.

“One of the Wizards dispatched here was a friend of mine. It’s true. When Command dispatched the Wizards, they expected us to hold out for at least forty eight more hours so they could mobilise the troops stationed at Dwarfhold, Skraeling and Darkovia. The other NCOs and I have been scrambling to stop the news from spreading, but it won’t be long. We’ve already sent a courier out to Command, but it’ll take at least a day for them to get a reply back… But even then…”

“Recalling troops to Greenguard still needs time. The fastest would be Darkovia, but since No Man’s Land, they have had to take detours through the Crossroads. Those in Skraeling need to go through Dragonstone. That’s a full day’s journey. Dwarfhold to Battleon is three day’s hard march… Dammit.” I cursed.

“Sir… The Warrant Officers were taken out along with the General, including all the senior Officers. The highest ranking NCO is currently a Master Sergeant, and he has no experience in large scale logistical organization… You’re currently the highest ranking officer.”

“I don’t have that training either.” I shot back, cursing under my breath. Min's reply was calm, as if rehearsed. “But the NCOs don’t know that. They’re lost, sir. None of us are used to making decisions on this large a scale. Nic… They’ve all been stalling, waiting for you to wake up to dump this huge mess into your lap so that they can follow orders like good little soldiers.” Min closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “Nicholas… I’m here because I wanted to give you a head’s up. Can you imagine if they had been here when you woke up and dumped it on you while you looking at them with that blank look on your face? They wouldn’t ever trust you to lead them if you did that, and right now, we need someone to lead.”

To lead… Then I remembered, years ago, the creed I had recited at my commissioning, the creed my own training officer had recited with me in desperation after I collapsed from the heat in the Skraeling desert as they had rushed me to a healer five years ago. My oath as an Officer.

I am an officer of Battleonia.
My Duty is to lead, to excel and to overcome.
I lead my men by example
I lead with pride, honour and integrity.
I will overcome adversity with courage, fortitude and determination.
I dedicate my life to Battleonia.

“You’re a manipulative, evil, delightful girl, Min.” I snorted with a smirk on my face. She grinned, pushing off from the wall. I sat up slowly, swinging my legs off the cot. I stood, taking a breath. “Sergeant Shadowsong.” I said, authority ringing in my voice. I reached for my Spear of Awe, and the moment I touched it, it glowed gold. I grabbed my helmet, the winged helm of the Armour of Awe, placing it upon my head. I slipped my arm into the Shield of Awe, picking it up and standing tall.

“Sir.” She was grinning now, even as she snapped to attention.

“My orders, the most senior NCO for every company will become the acting Company commander. Promote Adventurers into Guardian NCO capacity as necessary. Guardians are to meet me in the War Room in two hours, and their companies to fall into the parade ground in three hours."

Chapter 6: With my Life.
“They’re coming, sir. They’re about two clicks out, waiting.” The sentry beside me reported. I nodded in thanks. On my steed, I looked over the remains of the troops… No, my troops, now. The Battleonia Greenguard Regiment, reduced by slightly less than three quarters of its original size stood tall and proud. In the front ranks, my Dragoons sat upon what remaining horses we could find. Flanking my single company of Dragoons were two companies of Infantry Footmen. I looked up, positioned high on the walls, our Archers and Mages, barely thirty strong. There was a small blessing, though, most of our artillery was intact, and I did have a full platoon of troops manning the ballistae and catapults. The Wizards were within the safety of the keep, keeping up the spell that stopped Shadow Creatures from materializing out of nowhere within a two click radius. Beside me, Acting-Lieutenant Min Shadowsong sat upon her own steed.

I turned my mount around, meeting the eyes of all of my Guardians, just over ten of them on the ground with me. They knew, as well as I do, that we HAD to hold the fort. Battleonia had a full regiment of troops and were prepared to fight, but the outskirts of the city would be in danger. None of us dared to imagine what could possibly happen if the Shadow Army came across an innocent dwelling. They were moving through their companies, exchanging a few words with their men. These were NCOs, the Specialists whom men looked to during battle for encouragement. And I was proud of them. But I was the officer. I needed to inspire them, somehow.

“Adventurers of the Greenguard Regiment!” I shouted, making my voice heard even at the top of the walls. Why was I fighting so hard? Why was I leading men to face death in the face despite being outnumbered by more than four times? I knew exactly why I was doing this, but some of these men and women were fresh out of training, only having just earnt their weapons and their rights to be called Adventurers. I owed it to them, at least, to tell them why I was leading them into almost-certain doom.

Heads looked up towards me. “I know, most of you are wondering, why the hell am I doing something so crazy. Why the hell I have assembled you all here to face certain death. You must be wondering, what the hell is Lieutenant Geraldine thinking?” I paused. The silence of the evening air built. “We are Adventurers and Guardians. We are sworn protectors of Battleonia.”

“Do you remember your enlistment day? When you first took your oath? Do you remember how meaningless it was? To recite an oath that meant nothing to you.” I swallowed, I was babbling. I was trained to lead, I wasn’t trained to make huge speeches about dying! “But today, Battleonia calls for that oath to be fulfilled.” I came to a sudden realization. Min had figured me out long before this. I continued speaking, confident that I was going on the right path, confident in my heart.


Scattered replies of “Yes Sir!” came from the troops, but my Guardians responded, standing at attention, loud and crisp. The looks on each of their faces, the serious, yet pondering look as they thought about oaths they themselves had taken years ago.

“Then today, as your commanding Officer, recite your oath with me, renew your pledge to his Majesty, the King of Battleonia!” I roared

Adventurer of the Armed Forces of Battleonia
Adventurer of the Armed Forces of Battleonia
Do solemnly and sincerely pledge
Do solemnly and sincerely pledge
That I will always
That I will always
Bear true faith and allegiance
Bear true faith and allegiance
To my lord, his Majesty of Battleonia.
To my lord, his Majesty of Battleonia.
Will preserve and protect
Will preserve and protect
The honour and independence of our land
The honour and independence of our land

“WITH OUR LIVES!” I raised my Spear of Awe, its golden glow shining bright, cutting through the dust in the air. The drums sounded, the Dragoons started out at a trot as the Infantry Footmen kept pace at a jog. On the walls, Archers nocked their arrows, the mages preparing spells. Faces grim and determined, we understood what was at stake. Across the three companies, five Guardian Weapons glowed with their own light, joining their light with my own.

“WITH OUR LIVES! FOR BATTLEON!” And with that roar, I, Lieutenant Nicholas Geraldine, Dragoons and Footmen beside me, charged into near-certain doom.

Because I made an oath. I swore to protect my kingdom. My friends. My family.

With my life.

< Message edited by Ward_Point -- 6/30/2012 11:19:07 >
AQ  Post #: 14
6/13/2012 23:10:45   

AQ Character Name: Uskius
AQ Character ID: 7516199
Name of your Story: Laughing in the Face of Danger.

My name isn't exactly one that strikes fear into the hearts of villains across Lore- when you've died a few hundred times, well, word begins to spread. I'm not the most physically imposing figure either: tall and lanky, pale as a Darkovia moon, and with a goofy mess of dark red hair. I'm also known to trip going up the stairs, too. I've stood to to toe with demi-powers, madmen bent on ruling/destroying the world, Numbered Beasts, all manner of vampires and werewolves and undead, survived the coming of The Devourer(and all I got was a stupid t-shirt), even revived all sentient life on Lore- something exactly ONE person thanked me for- but the enemy I'm most known for combating? Frogzards. Never mind my bitter rivalry with the mythical three-headed dragon Trigoras, or the fact I've beaten said mythical dragon twice in one day on multiple occasions, when one sits down with a drink and talks about me winning a battle, it's about frogzards. I can't even tell you how many times I've been called “the frogzard guy”- not even anything cool like The Frogzard Hunter, just “the frogzard guy”.

Aside from wading through seas of frogzards I've actually enjoyed some decent success in my career. I've lasted nearly seven years. It's been rough at times, of course, but I usually manage to walk away from the battle. I've got a nice selection of items to use in my contests: my trusty Spear of Awe, my beloved Seraph shield and its golden swirls and pristine white wings, and of course my clone Stan who's saved my life countless times. I have a fragment of the Blood Orb, learned the art of spellcraft, and have even learned to harness the power of the Red Fog; and also I can call up transmuted water from the Pool of Immortality in No Man's Land, which effectively puts defeating me out of the reach of all but the toughest enemies...

...but that doesn't mean a whole lot, as I run into them frequently. Hey, I get a kick out of danger, it's why I started adventuring in the first place. Anyhoo, time and again I've come out with the victory- that's such a strong word, so triumphant and ringing- and yet there's just one opponent I'm actively scared of facing. Despite my many wins, I've seen him hundreds of times, and even faced him in combat a few. I wouldn't say we're friends, but we are very familiar with each other; I owe him a boatload of favors which is something he doesn't let me forget- after all I've summoned him to battle for me upon dozens and dozens of occasions. Can you guess who he is? That's right, I'm talking about The Reaper himself. Five times I've faced him in battle and five times I've sent him away, but this most recent time was the scariest of them all. Why?

It was easy.

Our other contests have been close, at least. His summoned undead would mob me to the point where I finally thought I was going to kick the proverbial bucket, only for me to fight back mightily and conquer him. This time, there was no such pretense of putting up a fight- or rather, I saw through his act- and in a handful of moments he just laughed off my assault and said he would be seeing me later, and left. I stared after him for a few minutes, then turned away, feeling weak and hollow. My armor felt heavy upon me, weighing me down towards the ground, whereas it usually felt like a sturdy second skin. My grip on my Unicorn Bowie loosened to where it nearly fell from my hand, and with a sigh I hung my Seraph shield on my back and trudged home.


It's pretty hard to “play” with an ice dragon, but I appreciated the effort. Crysta and my other house guards then entertained themselves by playing with my pets, which to passerby would have looked like a small war but in truth was a game similar to tag, but with teams and zones and time limits. As I silently pondered my existence in my hut I heard the gleeful cacophony of Crysta and Alby locked in a friendly struggle, the ice dragon and dragoncat each trying to bar the other from getting to the next zone. At the edge of my vision I saw my young grenwog Bear roll past the doorway into the neutral zone, with Eulalie(a snow white Gatta cat) sprinting to catch up. I blew out a breath and leaned forward to hold my chin in my hand, looking at the paintings of the Temple of Hope. It's a time I remember well, the apocalyptic battles as we struggled against the Network and rushed to unify against The Devourer. I glance over to my potion shelf, where I also put my Mark of Hope when I'm home. Almost in response it seems to gleam in the afternoon light, the gold catching the sun's rays and sparkling them back at me.

A sound of gusting wind signifies the two wyverns I've tamed for riding in battle have returned from their hunt, and the frenzied game pauses momentarily as my pets and house guards rush to get a bite of the meal. Noxis, my Nightmare Wyvern, pokes his head in the door. I shake my head, and he pokes back out to go eat. There are a playful mix of yips and growls outside blended with the sounds of feasting, a sort of syncopated choir of carnage that makes it a little hard for me to focus on my memories of the Devourer's coming. With a wry chuckle I give up, and decide to take a look at the weapons I left here before my last journey: the Power Katana, arcing with energy; the Blade of Glory, with its vivid and intricate blue markings on its blade, almost like a bright wave in suspended animation, and the edge sawed back on both sides like three fierce crests; and then I took in the ethereal blue of my Spirit Hunter Scythe: the ephemeral blades and points of energy coming from the blue orbs with white swirls at the ends of a simple staff. It's beautiful, really.

But it also hides a sinister ability: drawing out an opponent's soul, so it can be directly attacked. Dang. I'd heard of spells and weapons that can drain life force, but drawing out the soul, the very essence of something so it can more easily be sliced and destroyed? That's intense. So of course I'd bought it, and it proved every bit as powerful as I'd imagined it to be, perhaps even more so. Honestly, it almost frightened me to be wielding something with that kind of power, it seemed like something The Reaper himself would-

-abruptly I looked away, and stood to walk over and lean against the doorway. All I see are a few bones, and my Nerfkitten Nerissa and and my fuzlee named Alura jumping around on the back of Alby. It kinda makes me smile- I'm not really the type to sit around moping and softly crying waterfalls of crystal tears as I write poetry from the depths of my soul, so I decide what to do to snap myself out of this funk: go adventuring, go see the world and take it and make it mine. I nod and pick up my Mark of Hope, stuffing it into my item carry bag, and step out. I whistle for Noxis and Cyclonus(my Cyclone Wyvern), and grab my shield and weapon cases. In only a moment they return from wherever and land in the clearing. Alby and Crysta, and Eulalie and Bear and my other pets aren't far behind. “I think it's time to head out again. Everyone ready?”


We touch down at the crossroads, and my pets hop off Cyclonus and Crysta. I rub Crysta on her shoulder for a moment and she puffs out a chilly breath in my face(which was either like blowing me a kiss or saying “I expect fresh meat as payment”) before flying off back to the house. Looking at the sign post I can't decide where to go, so I take out a Z-token and flip it. “Ayyup, looks like we're headed over Yonder, guys.” I set off towards the first path in that direction. It's a few hours before we meet anyone, but then a group of adventurers passes us on the way, hauling huge sacks of loot. I wave, and their paladin leader waves back with a grin.

“The way's clear now! You'll have easy traveling, my friend.” His brown hair lifts in the breeze for a second, and I'm briefly reminded of Artix.

“Thanks for that!” The sunlight reflects off his armor as I turn away, and the rogue in their party winks at me before adjusting the sack of gold's position over her shoulder and running her free hand through her flowing chartreuse hair. I secretly grin after I pass them; I myself went through several hairstyle changes in my early career.

By the way, the “path being clear” was pretty much a warning that a tough monster will sneak up on me- I've been doing this long enough to know there's always something hiding nearby, whether it attacks you or not is just a matter of how hungry it is. And of course, not five minutes later what should pop up from the road but a mondrogor. The things have the appearance of a cute little brown bulb, but I know better. Disturb them and they'll let loose a shriek that would make a banshee proud. Lightning quick I pull out my Fourth Wind spear from my weapons case, and as I do the thing barrels into me. I strike back hard, and the mondrogor rewards me with one of its ear piercing shouts. I call up Nerissa to battle with me, but her first swipe at it misses, as mondrogor are quite the speedy little things. I put on my Sniper's Scope and don my Ironthorn shield- I want to hit this thing, and I want to hit it hard. The Ironthorn is a bulky, rectangular mass of metal decorated with twisting thorny vines on one side. It's difficult to hold up at times, but the strength I need to do so spreads throughout my body and I for some reason just feel stronger when I use it. With my equipment all chosen, I set about confronting the devious mondrogor. Its screams are driving me mad, I can barely stand them and they're really wearing me down. But my spear strikes true and hard, and as I raise it for another attack it levels itself at the mondrogor and two strong gusts of wind attack it, causing the brown bulb-like creature to disappear in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a cluster of small pale yellow flowers. I try to shake my head clear but it's still ringing.

Scanning the area for more threats, I barely notice the softly waving stalks of grass, or the rich and ancient smell of the road. The plains are truly empty, at least in my immediate vicinity, and still I look. A listless breeze washes over, stirring up the tall green stalks and pushing fluffy white clouds across the sky. I sigh, and Alura paws at my leg. “Yeah, time to go.”

So after going back to the crossroads, I decide to take the path to the forest. The shrubbery is in full bloom, vibrant greens lining the earthy brown road. I let Cyclonus and Noxis wander off and my mood begins to lighten a little as I reach the edge of the Greenwood. Alura and Nerissa are weaving through and around my legs as I walk, chasing each other and Bear speeds on ahead with Eulalie chasing after him. I smile, and begin to enjoy my little stroll through the forest. The canopy filters the light, mottling the undergrowth and path in shadow and sun. I pluck a berry from a bush and pop it into my mouth, savoring the fruity flavor- until a bush leaps onto the path, and three ghostly bunnies rise from it to assault me.

Three more come up from the shrub and attack, before the bush settles down. But this isn't any ordinary bush- this is an Am-Bush. Sneaky as the wind's shadow and as difficult to hit, I hate Am-Bushes more than almost any other type of monster. There goes my good mood. I grab my Z-Blade Scythe replica from my weapons case, and switch it into the ranged mode. The weapon is the color of magma dragon blood, all dusty red and with tints of orange and yellow here and there. In the ranged mode three blades are at one end of the shaft, fanning out and poised for action. Faint golden coronas drift up towards them, and I take my first swing at the Am-Bush- and miss. More ghost bunnies are launched my way, and I'm reeling from the sudden assault but regain my ground and take another swing, this one connecting. It's a tense battle, but this isn't the toughest Am-Bush I've faced and I regain control soon. It goes back and forth between the Am-Bush lunging at me and my counterattacks, but eventually I take a turn to refresh by calling up water from the Pool of Immortality. I close my eyes and concentrate, and the waters fade in and washes over me in three bursting columns, restoring my health. I summon the waters again, and now I'm invigorated enough to swiftly put the Am-Bush back in its place, one last slash from my Z-Blade Scythe replica shriveling up the bush. I shake droplets of water from the Pool of Immortality out of my hair, and around me a few patches of grass grow taller. I give a disgusted sigh and turn back to the crossroads, almost tripping over Nerissa.

I decide this will be my last trip from the crossroads for now, and that it'll be up North, to Frostvale. My pets and I crowd onto Noxis and Cyclonus and fly away, farm fields and the occasional dwelling racing past beneath us. Flying's one of my greatest joys, and I remind myself to ride my two wyverns more often. In stark contrast, all of my pets except for Bear and Cypria- a living cloud- don't like it. Alura senses the thought and looks over from Noxis. It's faster than walking, and you're free to jump off anytime if you don't like it. The fuzlee raises its chin and looks away, facing into the wind. But I make sure to send warm and fuzzy thoughts her way, and focus more on flying again.

The flight to Frostvale from the crossroads is a long one, so we stop overnight to rest. After some negotiation and a small(okay, not so small) amount of gold, a farmer agreed to let me stay out in his barn, a large red wooden thing with a white X on the door. I climb up to the hay loft, and my pets follow me. After I finally take off my armor I flop down in the flaxen straw, Alura and Bear and Nerissa and Eulalie snuggling up close before drifting off to their dreams.


The scents of straw and fur and horses greet my under-prepared nostrils the following morning, the dawn creeping in through the shutters and onto my face. I sit up and remember where I am, and see a few horses in their stalls and pigs in their pens, and stretch while I yawn. First things first, I put my Armor of Awe back on, then loosen up my shoulders and climb down the ladder. “Come on guys, time to head out!” Stan and my other pets are already up, and they walk over. Derval, my tofu koofu, is perched on his shoulder and my flogg plant named Mahli is by his side. He nods hello, and looks as Nerissa and Eulalie, and Bear and Alura jump down, landing with a casual grace- well not Bear, it's more like he crashes with style- and trot over. I briefly smile and turn to the doors, unlatching them and leading my pets out.

I spot the farmer approaching from behind the house, carrying buckets of feed. I wave to him, and he looks over. “Morning there! Good to see you're already up!” I walk to him and take one of the heavy buckets from him. “Thank you, thank you...” He murmurs. He's an older man, and his large mustache has a noticeable amount of gray in it, his large frame bearing some extra weight beneath those denim overalls. He's got crow's feet to match his feathery dark hair, and watery blue eyes. “Those wyverns of yours dinn't eat any of my hogs, did they?”

“No sir, they behaved themselves. Your hogs are all intact.” At least the ones in the barn are. Can't tell you what they were doing while we were going over the price of the night's lodging yesterday.

“Good, good...” He says to himself. “There's a trough down in the far stall, if you could just dump that bucket in there for me I'd greatly appreciate that.”

“Ah, no problem.” We walk back into the barn, and I see that the stall in the back corner is one holding some of the pigs. Several steps later and Stan comes up behind me, unlatching the gate so I can go in. The hogs noisily greet me as I dash the contents of the (quite frankly, gross)bucket into the feeding trough. Carefully stepping on the straw I make my way back out and latch the gate shut, and wave to the farmer.

“Be leaving soon?”

“Mm-hmm, on my way to Frostvale. And thank you for letting me stay the night here, I was so tired I almost fell asleep and slipped off my wyvern.”

“Oh, it's no trouble. You adventurers do so much for us simple folk, I don't mind.” We walk back to the house in contented silence, a rooster cock-a-doodle-dooing somewhere in the distance.

After I pick up my things, I'm gifted with some bread and a block of a pale gold cheese with herbs and nuts in it, my mouth immediately starting to water. I know good cheese when I see it, and this, this was simply immaculate! So smooth, and with a tantalizing aroma like nothing else. It's a soft cheese too, and would probably be able to spread if it was warmed. “I... thanks for this, sir.”

The farmer nods magnanimously. “You take care, now.” I wave as I walk off, and store the bread and cheese in my item carry bag as I mount Noxis.


Around midday I land near Frostvale. I quickly hop off Noxis and dig out the farmer's cheese, just holding it close to my face and inhaling. I swear I could almost live off the smell alone. But my stomach is rumbling, and so I have a small nibble as I get out the bread and my water canteen too. Yes! The bread is fairly tasty as well, with a nice and deep golden brown crust that isn't too crunchy, and it works superbly with the cheese. I feel like just wolfing down the whole block of cheese and loaf of bread, but stop about half-way and place the rest back in the item pack.

Buoyed by the absolutely delicious cheese, my pets and I waltz- literally, the cheese was so good it had me dancing(Stan hates dancing, by the way)- into Frostvale. I wave to Chilly, but the snowy blue moglin “shh!”s me and looks around nervously. I jog over to him to get the story.

“What's up?” I whisper.

“There's a lot of them here today.”

“BlizZards? A lot of what, Chilly?”

“You know... the Northern band.”

“Of what? Mercenaries, bandits, Frost Giants, Jotun...?” Chilly nodded. “Oh, them... I see.” The Jotun are a fierce tribe who protect the Northern lands, made up of Shevites and other races, all allied under the banner of loyalty to the Ice Realm. Which wouldn't be that bad, really, except the Jotun are pretty warlike and I haven't exactly had the best experiences with them. Which is to say, I had better get the Heck outta Frostvale. And I almost did so- but then a Jotun wearing a black knight's armor saw Stan. And then Noxis, and Cyclonus, and Nerissa, and apparently having some kind of sense he figured out there must be someone around. He swung at Stan and admirably my clone blocked but that's not something I'll let slide in any case, and I dash out to his side. I pick up my Z-Blade Scythe replica on the way, and slide to a stop beside Stan. My breath freezes in the air, making a small cloud. It may be Summer elsewhere, but similar to how Darkovia is always dark Frostvale was always cold, and today especially so.

“This town is off-limits for the Gathering. Leave.”

“I might, but you just attacked my clone Stan. And if you mess with my clone, you mess with me so I'm afraid I won't be leaving just yet.”

“Then you will feel the bite of my axe in his place!” The Jotun took his swing at me and indeed I did feel the bite of his axe, sharp and swift. I battle back, but this guy knows his stuff and many of my attacks are deflected. I block a few of his but really I don't care for blocking that much, I almost let him hit me. I sweep up with my scythe and twirl it around before the down stroke, slicing at him. The pace slows down after these two hits connect, and we cautiously take our time picking our shots and going for them. Then, as we're circling each other, Stan sneaks in a shot with his duplicate Z-Blade Scythe! While the Jotun is distracted, I run over to Noxis and get my Solaris shield from the case, and dash back. The axe of the Jotun leader is bright, and has a harsh glare; but the Solaris shield does wonderful things against light based attacks, and can even heal me a little in sunlight. I also take the time to call up water from the Pool of Immortality, the water somehow not freezing me solid.

Opening my eyes, I look up and see my Jotun opponent coming at me. Our duel resumes, even more furious- or perhaps frumious, I can see steam rising up from the melted snow in our area. I can feel the warmth from my Solaris shield seeping into my body, easing away my wounds little by little. I block a strike from the Jotun leader, returning with a sharp thrust to his midsection. It must have been a lucky strike, as I wasn't even aiming for the small crack in his dark armor, but the red blade of my scythe went in deep, drawing out a sharp gasp. He stumbled back dropping his axe and clutching his stomach, the light of his axe blade flashing and erasing the man from my view.

Just like that, it's over. No blood, really even nothing to say there had been a fierce battle here just moments ago other than the mussed snow. Simply vanished. The chill began to set in again now that I'd stopped moving, bone-deep and insistent. My armor rattles as I shiver and as I look around all I see is white, snow and glaring white freezing me and for some reason my pets are out of sight, and the bare branches of the trees begin to look like familiar bony fingers-

-I snap back to reality, finding Stan right at my side. I can't stand the cold and have to be somewhere hot, and want to leave before I go crazy and use fire magic to do it again.


I wake up, and spit sand out of my mouth. B'whuh- where...? I take a look around, and faintly remember the mad dash from Frostvale. It's not the first time I've inexplicably come to in the Skraeling Desert- but that's another story entirely- and anyhoo, I notice something crawling towards me- several somethings! It's a swarm of Fire Ants! Scrambling for my weapons case I dig out my Glacial Deren Blade. It has a fire crystal embedded in the core that sucks the heat from the blade to preserve it's own temperature, and the air around it has a frosty blue glimmer. I swat the ants with it, which doesn't sound particularly impressive but these things are the size of my fist and their bites... burn. I relax for a moment, thinking the job done, but then even more of them appear! They jump- yes, jump- at me, biting at my hands and face. I'm blindly swinging my sword at this point, but in a few seconds the scuttling sound stops and apparently I've defeated this particular horde.

Several calming breaths later, I pick up my things and start walking again.

I wander around, lost in my fears and thoughts. It's definitely not cold now. I reflexively swat away a bandit that crept up on me, and slice through a King Cobra and a Sand Shark with thoughtless ease. The same treatment is given to more monsters that pop up along the way, including a Shevite and more of those darned Fire Ants. There are numerous skulls bleaching white in the harsh desert sun. Some of them have eyes- small rodents that quickly scurry off to their dens. But soon I stop wandering, as I've come up against an enemy I won't be able to just swat away- an Adalon. The thing towers over me, a golem of sunbeam yellow crystal, with gleaming facets. It strikes first, bringing its hands together and taking a huge swing at me. The cold, hard slam knocks me back towards my cases, and I roll over and pick out Buster from my weapons case. Buster is a... unique weapon, a dark thing forged from the fragments of a sword made to combat dark Guardian Angels; a few shards of the original sword still float near the end. With a firm grip on the handle I run forwards and swing the incomplete sword at the Adalon.

Despite what I first thought, the battle is over soon. Buster is an enormously powerful sword, and one that has the power to bend space- which it did, a star-filled gap being torn open, swirling disks of darkness surging out and cutting through the Adalon. The golem deals out more tough hits, but they aren't nearly enough to keep me down and Buster and I hit it in all the right spots, the sword guiding me to victory. Almost literally, as Buster is sentient(I don't know how that works either), and as the finishing blow is dealt I pick up the faint thought: unworthy.

It sends me into a slight panic. Unworthy? Have I fallen that low, am I really so useless? All these years of adventuring mean nothing? The panic grows and I start to feel like I'm about to pass out, from the heat or my fears I don't know. Then as I stumble back to Noxis, a few tendrils of reassurance from Buster wrap around me, easing my mind. So, so the “unworthy” thought wasn't directed at me, then. I look around around at my pets, and they look back expectantly. The corners of my mouth tilt up a bit and I mount Noxis. “Let's head back to Battleon, guys.”


The sunburn wasn't the worst I've dealt with, but I still had a bit of peeling skin to deal with. Thankfully my armor shielded me from the worst of it. So after I've gotten cleaned up and had a day of rest, I talk to Twilly to find out what's been going on lately.

“Dhows? And Falerin?”

“And lots of vampires and werewolves and undead baddies, too.”

“What a mess... let's get over there and help out. Doesn't sound like this is going to sort itself out...” Okay, “lots of” was a massive understatement: there was a full-blown war going on in Darkovia, and I pulled out my Seraph shield and jumped right in, or off, I should say- I was still riding Noxis, and came down on an undead soldier, scattering its skeleton into a pile. I see Artix and Warlic and Robina at the base camp, and get the news that Atlas was brought back by Dhows using the power of the Bizarre Flecks. It hurt to see a man who was once a close ally working with so dark an entity as Dhows- or whatever Dhows was, that name just doesn't seem to fit him anymore.

“And we uncovered that chest while securing the area,” Artix points out. The chest in question is long, over a meter in length but only about half as wide. It's made of some dark, sturdy wood, fitted with gold that someone has apparently just finished polishing as it gleams in the Darkovia moonlight. “You can help yourself to whatever's inside, the rest of us are all set with our equipment.” Robina nods in affirmation, so I shrug and walk over to it. Kneeling down, I flip open the lid and immediately my jaw drops open in awe as I see the sword within: its wide blade is set with what seem to be stained glass panels, somewhat dulled by time but still gorgeous; and has a handle and cross guard twisted from a golden metal. With due reverence I pick it up, glee and joy and triumph and song-like euphoria returning to me. I hold it up to the strong moonlight, and close my eyes and let the moment wash over me. I get back up and spot the undead marching in the distance, and run over. Once I near them the sword(Caliburn, as I read of in my time as a paladin) bursts up with power, radiating out as pale blue flames. I let out a raucous laugh, and let the holy wrath emanating from Caliburn overtake me.


Thirty-five. By the time I've come back to myself, I'd fought through an assortment of enemies including a Vampire Lord, an Ice Cat, a gang of four DarkZards, and even this strange Molten Beast. Your typical Molten Beast has the appearance of some chunky, vaguely dinosaur-like(a raptor?) creature shaped from- wait for it- magma, with veins of the stuff showing over its body, and with a crater on its back spitting sparks and occasionally flaming volcanic rocks. But this one? Its touch was deathly cold, the flaming rocks felt more like being pelted with hail instead. Warlic had warned me Falerin(a friendly- well, at least he's on our side usually- deity from another planet) had “tinkered” with an assortment of creature's elements, but sheesh.

I shook the bone fragments out of my hair and various fluids(don't ask) off my armor, and after a quick stretch I stormed back onto the battle field. Brimming with determination I faced my first opponent: an Alpha Werewolf. Even crouching ready for battle it stood as tall as me, its fangs bared and claws prepared to rip me to shreds. Which was entirely possible- something within me knew this was by a country mile the strongest werewolf I'd ever faced. Suddenly, my confidence was gone. I rummaged through my shields case and brought out my Ironthorn, as my Seraph shield doesn't exactly defend the best against Earth-based physical attacks that enemies such as the Alpha Werewolf used. I darted in and scored a hit with Caliburn, and nearly immediately the werewolf clawed back, slashing from the left, slashing from the right. I sweep up with Caliburn and that shot gets deflected, but I bring it swing down and connect with its shoulder. We go into a back and forth rhythm for a minute, but with snarl the Alpha Werewolf knocks me down with a vicious slash and looms over me with menacing intent, blocking out the moon. I want to back away but I'm frozen with a primal fear, and the werewolf attacks. And attacks. Over and over it claws me, and after what felt like an eternity but was really just a a few moments I gather the courage to stand and fight back.

I yank my fragment of the Blood Orb out of my item pack, and speak the incantation for WITWBBQ- a fire spell that, as its name indicates in the most vague way, is very good for barbequeing things. And with the words spoken, a ginormous explosion erupts from under the Alpha werewolf's feet, blossoming like a beautiful flaming flower of war. After it faded away, the werewolf actually looked injured for the first time. Unfortunately, it also looked angrier than ever. It attacked with a renewed intensity, speeding past my feeble attempts at blocking and dodging. I struck back, but still the alpha kept regenerating, making me nervous and succumbing to the fear again. It takes even longer for me to gird my loins as a man and retaliate, and first thing I recited the incantation for WITWBBQ. The shockwave from the blast knocks me back a few feet, and I hear the Alpha Werewolf howl. My smile last only as long as the fires of my spell, as the werewolf stumbles forwards then leaps at me with a rage so intense it's almost a tangible sensation. I'm frozen with fear again, and I'm attacked mercilessly.

When the onslaught momentarily ceases, I take the time to call up water from the Pool of Immortality, and I shudder with relief as I'm bathed in the healing flows. The battle resumes, and I call on my experience as a Berserker(long, long story) to sharpen my rage until the pain from my wounds fades a little as I slash and cut as I am slashed and cut. I deal breathtaking wounds, but the Alpha Werewolf has unreal stamina and regeneration, and I give in to the fear again and close my eyes as I take one last slash.

I see darkness as I open them. I'm in a place I recognize very well, the place that coined the phrase “dead silence”, the domain of Death himself. And who should drift by on their gondola but...

“Ah, we meet again. Surprised to see you today, you people have been keeping me busy.”

“Busy? Oh, right.” I give a bitter chuckle. “You shouldn't be too surprised to see me, though.”

Death shrugged. “If you say so. But it isn't often someone wielding Caladbolg falls in battle-”

I jerk my head back towards Death. “What, you were watching?!”

He continues as if I hadn't spoken. “-Or maybe that's because it's been lost for so long. Been what, four, maybe five hundred...? No, longer...” His unsettling gaze falls on me once more, and I gulp. “In any case, I've fulfilled my quota for the day.” He stares at me, and there's an odd pull backwards on his lower jaw I almost recognize. “Pick up Caladbolg again, and if you keep me busy enough I might look the other way when we meet later on.” The Reaper pushes off, the darkness swallowing him as he drifts away.


It wasn't until I was back in Darkovia that I realized what had happened in Death's domain. The moment comes near the end of my most intense battle yet: a werepyre, who was to other werepyres as that Alpha Werewolf was to others of its kind. I'd started the battle in my wizard robes, needing the skills that innately come to me while wearing them if I was to seriously damage the werepyre- because it had regeneration as swift as the werewolf's and could deeply drain my health before I knew what was going on. I think that's why it didn't really bother blocking many of my attacks, because it knew it could pretty much just laugh them off like I was a baby playfully slapping its mother. Ahem- so, wizard's robes, Blood Orb fragment, and a couple castings of WITWBBQ later, and I find myself in my Armor of Awe, carrying my Ironthorn and Z-Blade Scythe replica. The battle has taken swings like a giant pendulum; this is a battle that obviously neither of us want to lose, though it seems like it could go either way at a moment's notice. Then a thought comes back to me: “It's not often a wielder of Caliburn falls in battle.” And while the time between now and then is a short blur, I've been very busy. A grin spreads over my face like jam on a biscuit. I raise the scythe, and it calls forth a hail of spinning tokens with a fiery gleam which slam into the werepyre and burst apart, sending the werepyre into the dust. It fades into shadows that peel apart and blow away on the breeze as they dissipate- I've won! I laugh, and the grin stays on my face as I begin to slowly walk into the thick of the battle.

So, that's how I got my smile back. But this hopefully this story won't be ending for a while.

< Message edited by Uskius -- 6/18/2012 16:31:34 >
AQ Epic  Post #: 15
6/16/2012 10:20:30   

AQW Character: The Legend Akif
AQW Character ID: 34578620
Name of your story: The Future Battleon! Robots Rules the World! WAR

The Beggining

The story started with a hero who was resting on a tree when a sudden lighting hit the ground and everything disappeared including the hero and battleon. The hero was brought to another battleon. This Battleon was dark and spooky then zap a robot in front of the hero. " What - are - you - doing - here? " said the robot. " Where am I? " Replied the hero. The robot grabbed the hero brought him to Swordhaven which was made by technical mechanical products. The hero was surrounded by robots. No humans! Not Even One.

Pow! A portal opened, and Artix and Gravelyn came out but they weren't the human Artix and Gravelyn. They were robots!!! Then there was one boy, a human. Robot Artix and Cysero attacked the little boys but gladly the hero came out, grabbed the boy and took him away. The boy thank the hero for saving him and brought him to a small village where there were peoples. The founder of the village explains everything to the hero. So here it goes:

Long ago when humans were here alive in battleon, everybody lived happily and greatly. Until one day when a tiny switch from the sky fell on battleon and brought everyone here... to the FUTURE where ROBOTS RULE THE WORLD. The were nobody to save us, the rest of the people saved us. Artix the champion of darkness and Gravelyn champion of light tried to save us but then the king of robots...J6, the king! J6 rule the robot minions and changed Artix, Gravelyn and everyone in battleon into robots. After that, there were no chance of surving until that day. The day of the Robot War! The hero is you. You will save us. The founder of the village gave him a small stone that can turn into anything you want. The founder also gave him a box stolen from the robot that is made by a huge strong chemical that can trapped a person in it and cannot be out.

The hero went on gathering weapons for the villagers to fight back and defeat J6. After days and days passes through. It is the day of the Robot War.

The day of the Robot War!

While the villagers were fighting robots, the hero sneaked inside to defeat J6 and bring back others. As the hero sneaked he saw a room and so he picked inside. There was a switch. It says, Past at the top and Future at the bottom. " A Switch, that must be a lie! A Switch couldn't change it to normal... that would just be weird... i guessed ". Behind the hero was J6. J6 hit the hero at the back. The hero forgot everything. Meanwhile the villagers were attacked by Artix and Gravelyn. The hero woke up and was tied by a rope and next to him was J6. He used the stone that he got from the founder of the village and turn the stone into a knife to cut the rope. The hero was released and started to fight J6. He used the box which was also given from the founder of the village and threw it at J6 and in 3 second the box opened sucked J6 inside the box and locked him inside and a key that fell from J6 hand fell on the floor. " Wow, all the stuff that that old man gave me was pretty useful. What's this? A key? ". On the key it says, "1 key that opens the door to the switch room".

The hero forgot everything about the switch room since he got hit at the back. J6 inside the box had the explode button, he clicked it and the robot castle is breaking itself. The hero bang his head again and remembered about the switch. " I better go quick to the room before get squashed by the castle metal objects breaking. The hero arrive to the room but the switch was blocked with big metal cracks blocking it. The hero used the power stone and turn it into a huge sword and make a path through. The robot castle was almost breaking and boulder hit the switch, " The Switch!!!, I have to pull it up before it breaks more". The hero pulled the switch up as fast as he can and finally the world change once more, everything was back to normal. The switch was broken and everyone was back on battleon.

Back to Normal

Everybody forgot everything that happened except for the hero. J6 was back to normal. The hero says " What is next? Dragons rule the world! Another war! That is enough for now". Another switch fell off from the sky but luckily the hero grabbed it. " Phew, lucky me ". And then another hundreds of switches fell down from the sky. " Oh no! This will be another never-ending story ". And finally up there at the sky in a ship was Cysero cleaning up and throwing switches out.

My Entry for the Contest ^^
I hope it's good.

AQW  Post #: 16
6/16/2012 10:41:43   

AQ Name: Loki
AQ ID: 82945328

Note: If the weapon does not scale, please use this character instead:

AQ Name: Inficius
AQ ID: 47822245

Either way, I hope you enjoy the story! :D

Hiding in The Shadow Of A Child
By Issa

Right, you want a story then? I don’t know many, certainly not many that could defeat the Truphma, but there is one tale that just might do the trick-if I may be so bold-the story of how I killed my brother, one of the greatest heroes in the history of Lore. By the way, I apologise in advance for the tales told in the old history books little Lopt used to read-they were enlightening, but they did possess a tragic tendency towards the dramatic-and much of what was written in them was but conjecture. I would just like to thank him here-he’s grown into a fine young man, one of the greatest I’ve ever known, and it is only with his consent and aid that I share his tale with you.

(OOC: Lumer is NOT the hero of DragonFable, just a very popular, very powerful hero who went rogue. Telum is the AQ hero, and Lopt is one of my alts)

Part 1: Cyrin Village

The first time Lopt saw the Guardians, he was seven, and small for his age. They were tall, too tall, and he remembered all too well the vivid fear that he had felt when they approached him, eyes sparking in interest. The tallest of them all, the one they called Nimrod, had saluted to him respectfully, and inquired politely as to his health. They called him funny words, like Paragon, and Hero, and (with just a hint of distaste, which confused him somewhat) the returned. He had stood, petrified, as they talked at him endlessly, asking him whether he remembered Twilly, or Yulgar, or Artix. The first two names meant nothing to him, but the confused child had brightened when they mentioned the last; Artix had saved the neighbouring village from a Lich a few months back, and ever since then the inhabitants of Cyrin had struggled to explain to their children that no, Timmy, Paladins don’t have fun all the time. Nimrod seemed pleased, at first, when he noticed Lopt’s sudden enthusiasm, but that enthusiasm seemed to fade when he realised that all of Lopt’s knowledge was second hand. The men had left soon after, and it was then that the nightmares started.

They were always the same, fragmented visions of a shadowy figure stepping slowly towards him, hand outstretched. As the figure drew closer, it would be joined by a host of others, each of them calling the same name, over and over. Lumer, Lumer, where are you, Lumer? Sometimes, Lopt thought that he could make out a face behind the darkness-once he spotted a rotted, grey-skinned figure with blood-red eyes and scars all over his decomposing face-that one had given him nightmares for weeks-another time he fancied that he saw some manner of demon, all forked tongue and orange horns. He began to grow ever so slightly obsessed with his nightmares, fancying that they were trying to tell him something, if only he could just listen. His parents were nonplussed when their only son, who had always been a cheerful, energetic child with a neverending smile, began to withdraw into himself. He stopped attending training sessions with the other children, choosing instead to hole himself up in corners with spellbooks or historical tomes. Lopt had always been popular with the other children, but after he shunned his friends for what seemed like the fifteenth time in a week, they began to give up on him. One by one, they stopped asking him to attend battle practise with them, stopped asking him to go out hunting or looking for treasure-and he didn’t even notice. He just read, and read, and read, until at last he saw him.

Nurvei, the book read, one of the greatest Necromancers in the history of Lore. His face tragically disfigured as a youth in a failed magical experiment, the once promising mage descended into madness until he was finally defeated and stripped of his powers by the mighty Paladin Artix and his good friend Lumer (see page 169), one of the greatest heroes of Lore and a renowned Guardian. For the last twelve years, Nurvei has been suspended in Never-Dimming Light to keep his fearful powers over darkness from manifesting themselves once more. Lopt read on, his face pinched with fear as he saw the detailed illustration of Nurvei's corpse-like face, almost identical to the horror in his dream. Terrified to continue, but too drawn in to quit, Lopt flicked ahead to page 169 with shaking hands, only to freeze as his eyes took in the image that lay before his eyes: a tall, crimson-clad man, with a dragonlike mask and a sword the colour of blood. The man stood tall against a stormy sky with a great dragon flying above him and a heavy shield clutched in the hand not gripping the great blade that he wielded. Behind him stood a green-garbed woman with a longbow, a silver knight with a great golden axe-surely not Artix?-and a mage with white hair and a staff that swirled with powerful magics. The caption read Lumer the Defender, Hero amongst men.

As Lopt read the lengthy chapter, he found himself in awe of Lumer’s many exploits, from his many epic battles with his arch-rival, the mighty necromancer Cavon, to his terrifying, but mercifully brief, encounter with one of the most fearsome warriors to ever walk Lore: The Doom Knight, Sepulchure. He gasped when he read of the Sword of Corruption, a cursed blade that offered the wielder immense power, and how Lumer was able to steal it from Cavon’s own castle, shuddered as he read of the sinister Lich Master, and his undead horde-the only battle that Lumer and his staunch ally Telum-(some said he was Lumer's brother, all knew that the only warrior great enough to match Lumer himself in single combat) ever lost-and oh, what a satisfying moment it was when he read of Lumer’s final defeat of the Lich Master, using the Sword of Corruption to devour the soul of the unstoppable Lich. The following chapters detailing Lumer’s adventures were just as lengthy, and just as enthralling. By the time Lopt got to the final paragraphs, it was too dark to read. Conjuring a green flame in the palm of his hand-a self-taught spell learned from one of his many tomes-he read the final part of Lumer’s tale:
No-one knows what happened to Lumer that day, whether he fell from the cliff where he began his adventures or simply flew away, seeking a new life. All we know is that the world is a darker place without him, and his legacy will be one that lasts throughout the ages.

As he read the last few lines, Lopt felt a strange amusement flow through him, as if he was in on a joke that the author of the text was not privy to. The feeling disappeared quickly, however, and once it did he remembered it not...

As time passed, so did the fear, and after the nightmares stopped and the months passed, Lopt slowly began to dismiss, if not quite forget, the stories of Lumer and his friends. He began to spar once more, even if he now fought more with spells and spears while his peers favoured blades and bows. He knew peace for a time, and slowly but surely he began to sink back into the relaxed, cheerful lifestyle of a typical eight year old. He began to look forward to the day that he would be presented with his first real sword, the day that he would be inducted into the Guardian Order. His dreams were no longer of shadows, but of the light-until the day that the Guardians returned. This time, they made no attempt to contact him; instead they simply sat back and observed the children spar-the thought crossed his mind that this was rather strange of him, but he was quickly distracted by the sight of Kelf bearing down on him with a great axe. Dodging the heavy swing nimbly, Lopt spun around and struck Kelf lightly on the back with his blunted blade.

“Another win for me, Kelf. You really would do much better if you used a lighter blade, my friend.”

Kelf grunted, unwilling to concede defeat to his slightly arrogant friend. “Hah! We both know that one tap from my axe here and you would have lost the match.”

Lopt laughed cheerfully. “If you say so, Kelf, if you say so.”

Kelf shrugged grumpily and wandered off to clean his treasured great axe. Lopt made to follow him, only to find his path blocked by three of the heavily armoured men. They weren’t quite as tall as he remembered, and their faces bore scars that hadn’t been there the previous year. The shortest of the men, dressed in grey-and-gold armor, grabbed Lop suddenly and began to shake him furiously, hateful grey eyes fixed on Lopt’s wide, suddenly terrified, brown ones.

“We are SICK of your games, you depraved monster!”

Lopt swallowed audibly, barely managing to choke out a brief response:

“W-what do you mean?”

The man laughed grimly, voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

“What do I mean? WHAT DO I MEAN!? I mean, Lumer, that if you don’t stop playing this depraved game, I will end it for you.” With a snort of disgust, the man dropped Lopt to the floor, while his companions sneered cruelly.

“Geralt, what do you think you’re doing!?” demanded a taller man in black robes, who was gripping a golden sceptre tightly. Lopt’s attacker sneered at the mage, ignoring the question and sauntering away with his friends. The mage looked pityingly at Lopt, but his gaze too held a mild hint of revulsion. Finally, he spoke, in a disapproving but still somewhat friendly tone:

“I hate to say it, Lumer, but Geralt is right. Let go of the past, my friend. This hiding shames you and sullies the child’s innocence. If you do not see sense soon, I fear that the Guardian Order will move to have the child exorcised by a Paladin…”

Lopt laughed suddenly, a cold, mocking laugh quite unlike his usual undignified snorts. Then, to the young boy’s horror, his lips began to move, speaking in a cultured voice entirely different to his own.
“Crys, my friend. It’s been far too long. How is the family?”

Crys started, before answering begrudgingly. “Poorly. It’s been a long year, and the crop yield has been poor.”

Lumer grinned. “Such a shame, such a shame. I don’t suppose they’d let me visit?”

Crys’ posture shifted, and when he spoke his tone was altogether more vicious.

“Listen to me right now, Lumer! You are being a cowardly fool! Stop running from your past, before it consumes you entirely. You made a few mistakes, but that doesn’t take away from who you were-who you are. Let the child go, my friend, face justice. The Guardians will be merciful to such a great hero as you, I know it.”

Lumer cocked his head to the side, considering Crys’ words. For a moment it seemed as if he would accede to the man’s request, but after an agonising wait he shook his head slowly, almost regretfully. “It’s too late for Lumer the Defender, Crys. His sins are many, and his hands are stained with blood. As the child, I will be free to do so much more good! His magic is more potent than mine ever was, almost as potent as Warlic himself-you remember the power Warlic could shape, surely? Even at his weakest, his power was so great it was almost tangible-one day, as Lopt Mendasson, I will equal and then surpass him. Imagine what glory we could win for the forces of good with such power!”

Crys shook his head sadly, raising his hands in a spell that caught Lumer unaware, freezing him mid-speech in a sphere of perfect ice. Kneeling to put his face level with the possessed child, Crys spoke sadly, words filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Lopt. Truly, I am. I promise you, when we return to Battleon all will be explained to you."

Part 2: The Guardian Tower

The Guardian Tower was all that Lopt had ever imagined it to be, tall, bright, shining and beautiful. Admittedly, in none of his childish fantasies had he ever considered the possibility that he would be taken to the tower in chains, with magic-draining crystals pulsing gently all around him, which rather took the shine away from the situation, but Lopt didn’t mind particularly. He still didn’t remember how he was taken here, or why, except that he had felt extremely cold upon waking, so he told himself firmly that it was all just a big misunderstanding, and after the Guardians realised this they would politely apologise, and with a big smiled he’d forgive them, and ask them if he could borrow a Guardian Blade to show his friends. His childish resolve didn’t fade, not until he was standing in the Guardian Arena, surrounded by shining warriors and powerful mages. He could make out amongst them the faces of Nimrod and his attacker, Geralt, as well as a guilty-looking mage who seemed somehow familiar.

Only then did Lopt begin to cry, feeling horribly humiliated as he did so, a small child weeping in the presence of his heroes. The reaction to his grief was oddly mixed, with half of the guardians seeming horribly guilty, and others seeming disgusted by his tears. Finally, a man in a different type of Guardian armor walked forward, in heavily spiked armor-one of the fabled Ultra-Guardians, some of the greatest of Lore’s defenders. The man was old, with silver hair and a ragged beard that did nothing to take away from the aura of power and confidence he exuded.

“Lumer, son of Iurnes, the Guardian Council would speak with you.”

Lopt shuddered horribly, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
“I’m not Lumer, sir. I’m just Lopt. Could…could I please go home?”

The old man softened a little, but his hand remained on his Guardian Blade.

“Young man, on behalf of the Guardian Order I apologise for the horrors that you have been subjected to. I assure you, we bear no ill will towards you, my boy. We only wish to speak with the one who shares your body.”

Lopt looked up suddenly, as if struck.
“W-what!? Who shares my body, what do you mean?” he cried, feeling his body go cold once again.
The old man sighed, and when he spoke next the words seemed forced, as if it physically pained him to speak them. “Child, do you know of the Hero, Lumer?”
Lopt nodded, and the old man continued.

“He was a great man, one who sacrificed much to fight the forces of evil. In the end, he sacrificed too much, far too much. Do you know of the Sword of Corruption? Ah, good, I see that you do. Its power was great, but so was the darkness it housed, and in the end it proved too much for him. Lumer fell into Darkness, and became a force of evil as twisted and monstrous as those he once sought to destroy. He went on a terrible rampage, and he left a trail of corpses behind him that outweighed even the many lives that he had saved. The Guardians were forced to pretend that he had disappeared, fearing that the morale of our citizens would fall drastically if they discovered what their greatest hero had become-the demon that burned their homes and killed their brothers. In the end, eight of our mightiest warriors, led by Telum, the only warrior to have ever bested Lumer in single combat. However, with the power of the Sword, Lumer proved strong, even for Telum. The battle was long and bloody, but in the end Lumer fell into a vortex of darkness of his own making, after Telum was able to break Lumer’s blade.

At first we thought him dead, but then Sage Uldor, a mighty seer told us that he still lived, in the body of a newborn child. At first, we believed him to be mistaken, for we felt that Lumer, fallen as he was, would never resort to such depravity-but we were wrong. Nimrod and his men were sent to discover whether or not you retained Lumer’s memory, but their findings were…troubling. Before we located you, we thought that Lumer had somehow managed to Reset himself, returning himself to the body of a child, but once we found you we realised how much worse the truth really was-Lumer simply possessed the most powerful child he could find, attempting to break your mind and reshape you into the perfect host.”

Lopt shook his head frantically, beginning to hyperventilate. “No, no, no, you’re wrong. You’re lying, you’re lying! I’m me; I’m Lopt, not Lumer!”

The old man shook his head, face grave. “Yes, child. You are Lopt. But within you Lumer dwells, waiting for you to weaken. Tell me, boy, do you remember why you were brought here? No? I wonder why…”

Lopt suddenly ceased shaking, and something in his face changed, fear giving way to scorn, confusion giving way to a sudden cruel cunning that appeared bizarre on a child’s face. His eyes shifted, from their typical brown to a cold blue. Lumer watched the Guardians mixed reactions, an expression of fiendish delight on his face.

“Guardians…Commander Kethe, it’s been a long time. To what do I owe the displeasure of your company, may I ask?”

The old man, Kethe, slowly drew his blade.
“Lumer, so you finally deign to show yourself? It’s about time, coward. Leave the child’s body, before we make you leave it. It’s not too late, Lumer. You will face justice for your crimes, but you will take no lasting harm. It’s over.”
Lumer cackled madly, the sudden volume of his laughter startling Nimrod into raising his Blade of Awe and prompting Crys to prepare another ice spell.
“Justice!? I know too well your justice, Guardian. You would cage me for years, keep my power restrained and weakened-and throughout my torment, you would expect me to be grateful to you, just because you spared my miserable life. I think not.”

With those words, Lumer, hands impossibly freed from restraints, pulled a dagger from his boot and set to slashing and shattering the magical nullifiers stationed about him. As soon as they broke, he summoned a blood-red sword and unleashed a wave of fire that set the arena alight, forcing the battle-ready guardians to pause in their rush to incapacitate the possessed child. Kethe doused the flames around him with a wave of his hand, and rushed towards Lumer, blade ready for battle. Despite his tiny size, Lumer was unnaturally strong, and impossibly fast-but there could only be one conclusion to such a mismatched battle and, inevitably, Lumer was knocked to the ground. Kethe stood over him, eyes filled with regret, but path already decided. He raised his blade, only to stop as Lumer began to convulse, blue eyes darkening and body weakening. The sword fell from the child’s grasp and Kethe, cursing loudly, knelt to help the child up-only to be thrown against the wall by a magical force. Lumer laughed grimly as he got to his feet and picked up the Sword, which hummed slightly with magical might.

“You can’t kill me without killing the boy, Kethe. And we both know you’ll never kill a child.”

With a wave of his hand, the Guardians that had fallen to the magical flames began to get to their feet, dead eyes staring vacantly into space as they attacked their former friends. In the middle of the chaos, Lumer stood protected by a magical shield, laughing triumphantly.

“So, Guardians of Battleon, this is how you fall? Undone by an eight year old? Pathe-"
Suddenly, Lumer fell silent, struck dumb by the familiar sight of a dark figure slowly entering the room, gripping a flaming spear in a black-gauntleted hand. The figure was silent as all eyes fell upon it; the implacable form simply stood and watched the scene unfolding before it. The Guardians outmatched their undead foes in strength and skill, but their morale was severely damaged by the prospect of fighting their deceased friends, and every time a Guardian fell Lumer’s forces were added to. To make matters even worse. Lumer’s sheer magical strength gave the undead abnormal willpower-the magical force animating them was so great that the only things that could permanently halt the corpses were decapitation and the most powerful fire spells. In short, things were not going well for the Guardians.

Lumer made his way slowly towards the figure, a pulsing energy glowing in his free hand.
“Telum. What an…unpleasant surprise. I was under the impression that you had left the Guardian Order to become an adventurer?”

Telum remained silent, although his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Surprised, Telum? I am more aware of worldly events than you might think-word travels, even to the small village of Cyrin.”

Telum spoke, at last, his voice calm and measured.

“I care not of what you know, Lumer. Release the child, face me like a man.”

Lumer stopped, looking as though he was considering the request, before chuckling merrily.

“Nice try Telum, but I don’t think so. This body offers me…protection.”

Telum growled, raising his spear aggressively.
“So be it, Lumer. You leave me no other option.” With those words, Telum launched himself towards Lumer with a cry of war upon his lips. Cutting through Lumer’s forcefield rapidly, Telum knocked the boy down with a powerful thrust with the blunt end of his spear. Lumer, face down on the floor, managed a grim, taunting, chuckle.

“Such a glorious victory, Telum. Hail, the conquering hero! Hail, the child-killer! Which monster shall you battle next, O, Mighty One? An old woman? An ant?”

Telum snorted, free hand rummaging around in his armor, searching for something.

"Old women? I've fought grannies with more fight than you-and as for ants, I've fought so many Fire Ants that I'll never be able to have a picnic again."

A battered guardian, fighting two undead at once, saw the two conversing, and screamed out frantically:
“Just kill the monster, Telum! Kill him the way he killed Kethe!”

At this, Telum stiffened, eyes flashing dangerously.

“You killed Kethe!?”

Lumer shrugged dismissively.
“I wish. The old goat’s far too tough for me to put down.”

Telum, finally finding the object he was searching for, triumphantly drew a small green bottle.
“Do you know what this is, Lumer?”

Lumer squinted, struggling to read the label. As he did so, his eyes widened in disbelief and wicked delight-

“Is that wasabi?”

Telum smiled smugly. “Not any Wasabi, Lumer. Artix’s own Holy Wasabi-incredibly effective against the undead, or so I’m told. I wonder, Lumer, do you think that a spirit possessing a child, a spirit who gave his soul to evil and necromancy, counts as an undead? I certainly do-and the best part is, it won’t have any effect at all on the poor boy that you compelled into hosting you. Say your prayers to whichever God would want you, Lumer. Lorithia knows you’ll need it.”

Lumer’s eyes widened in fear, but it was too late to fight back-with a swift motion, Telum knelt and forced some of the spicy condiment into Lumer’s mouth, only for Lumer to spit it out again. Lumer laughed arrogantly, secure in his immortality.
“Fool, Telum! Did you truly think that I would swallow that which would bring about my end?

Telum shrugged, before magically restraining Lumer with glowing blue chains. He was quiet for a few seconds, and when he finally spoke his voice was heavy with pain. “Why, brother? Why would you do this? The weapon changed you, this is not my brother. Look at yourself, please, truly look. Do you like what you see brother, do you like what you’ve become? Do you enjoy the pain you cause those who loved you, the torment that you have subjected us to? I don’t think that you do.”

Lumer flinched as if struck, his cruel smirk fading into a pained grimace. His narrow eyes widened, and for a moment, if one ignored the position he was in, the destruction all around them as the Guardian’s, battered but victorious, began to repair the damage he had wrought, he seemed for all the world like a terrified, confused child who was being told off by an older brother. Telum wondered internally if the wasabi was having some kind of effect on the pull the Sword of Corruption had on Lumer’s mind.

“I, I did it for you, Telum. Always for you.”

Telum looked entirely nonplussed, mind struggling to comprehend just what Lumer meant.

“The murder? The possession? For me?”

Lumer laughed, painfully and hoarsely. “No. I took the Blade, to save your life. Do you not remember the first time we battled the Lich Master? We lost that day-and you almost died. When I heard he was back, and stronger than ever, I knew what I had to do. I crept into Calum’s castle, and stole the sword that he had found-the one that destroyed my blade with a touch-, the only sword that could stop the Lich Master. I knew what it would do to me, but I just didn’t have the choice; it was lose myself to madness, or lose you to Death-and that’s just no choice at all.”

Telum’s eyes widened, and if a stray tear happened to wander down his cheek, neither of them noticed or cared.

“Lumer, Brother, I will always love you. But you must stop this, now.”

Lumer nodded jerkily, feebly.

“Very well, Telum. I will end this, for you. While my mind is my own, I will end this.”

Telum, hand shaking, dismissed Lumer’s bonds and passed the wasabi to his brother, averting his watering eyes as his brother gulped it down. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and a small, selfish part of Telum rejoiced that his brother lived still. Then, just as the treasonous thoughts took hold of his mind, Lumer let out one final, long, breath, and Lopt awoke. The child, dizzy and disoriented, struggled to his feet and took in the scene of carnage that met his eyes.

“What happened?”

“You did,” Kethe growled as he made his way towards the child, limping and bruised.

Lopt looked aghast. “Me? No, why would you say that-that’s not funny! Who did this, and what’s wrong with me!?” The child swayed, almost fell, but he dug his heels in and managed to stay standing.

Kethe turned to Telum, his eyes holding an unspoken question: is he gone? Telum nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Kethe relaxed, the relief he felt almost palpable. He looked somewhat guiltily towards the frightened child he had just admonished, cringing a little when the boy drew back as Kethe approached. Kethe spoke gruffly, hating how scared the boy looked.

“It’s alright, boy, I-I’m sorry for startling you. I’m just-I’ve just…well, it’s been a long day. Nonetheless, I shouldn’t have acted like that. We were attacked by a powerful mage, and he nearly killed us all. Luckily, Telum there saved all our hides.”

Lopt looked slightly suspicious-Kethe and Telum couldn’t really blame him.

“Then what happened to me? Why was…Telum with me when I woke up?”

Telum stepped in to save the floundering Kethe with a few smooth words: “You were hit in the head by some flying rubble, Lopt-you must have forgotten. I was just healing you, you looked like you were in a lot of pain.”

Lopt smiled gratefully, doubts assuaged, for the time being at least. He stuck out his hand to Telum, an oddly formal gesture for one so young. Telum accepted it, inclining his head to the side slightly.

“Thank you for telling me this, Telum.”

Lopt then turned to Kethe, fixing him with a curious, vulnerable, gaze that made Kethe feel even more guilty (which in turn made him feel like a weakling-one did not become a Guardian-Commander by going soft over every small child they happened to encounter!) so he prompted the small child’s question by nodding at him gently, with a kind smile on his face.

“Er, Commander Kethe, do you still think I’m possessed by Lumer? Because I’m not, sir, really, I’m not!”

Kethe tousled Lopt’s already messy red hair, a self-deprecating smile on his aged features.

“No, child, you were correct. You are not possessed, and I apologise to you for what we have done to you here, and for the worry your parents must feel. But, while you’re here, boy, how would you like a personal tour of the Guardian Tower, conducted by the Hero of Battleon and the Guardian-Commander?”

Lopt’s eyes lit up, and looking at the childish joy contained within his guileless face, both Kethe and Telum felt a strange sense of peace. People had died, but all was peaceful now, and the tragedies of the day were finally behind them. One day, Lopt would learn the truth, but not now, not when he was so vulnerable. Things would never be quite the same again, especially not for Telum, but for the first time since Lumer fell through the vortex, Telum felt at peace with himself, and with the world.


It was painful sharing this tale, but necessary, if it has even the slightest chance of helping to fight the Truphma. Lopt and I wish you good fortune in your teaching and battles, Ms. Vox, and I hope you know that, should you need it, my spear arm is at the ready. ~Telum

< Message edited by Issa -- 6/16/2012 16:40:09 >
DF  Post #: 17
6/16/2012 23:00:01   

AQ Character Name: Irisi
AQ Character ID: 17132232
Name of your Story: The Brilliance of Paradox

The hour just before dawn seems to be an entirely different era. Noise is gradually filtered down to the barest essentials: the slither of a thin swinging bough of leaves, the sizzling sound of a light drizzle, not unlike cooking meat. The only way to describe it is transparent. Everything is clear.

The clan leaders have been found and freed. Balance is restored to Paxia. And yet, I still feel as if I am missing something vital. Something to make me whole.

Pebbles grind against each other as I walk. I haven't been back to Monolith Island in a while, what with all the recent chaos on Paxia. The island is small enough for me to stroll through, and there are no monsters to jump out at me from behind the trees or boulders. It is peaceful here; before I know it, I've spent the entire day and a good portion of the night here.

The rain is calming, just as this entire day has been. I feel like I know Monolith Island like the back of my hand now, even better than I know Battleon. I've explored every inch of this island, every crevasse and gently sloping hill. Devoid of company, what else is there to do but explore?

Well, nearly every inch. And almost devoid of company. There are two places I dare not go, precisely because of the company that awaits me there. Perhaps it isn't right to say I dare not go there; I do not want to go there. I don't want to see the two who are doubtlessly waiting. They always are.

The thoughts bring my good mood crashing down, like the distant echoes of waves at the shore. I will find no more tranquility here, I know. It's about time to leave anyway- I should head back to Paxia and check how repairs are going. Perhaps there's something I can do to help.

I don't even take three steps before I realize the company I've been avoiding has found me. Paxus is the one I spot first, his arms constantly waving; the motion is what first catches my attention. Negatus is on my other side, the stones in his face constantly changing color, rotating between red and orange and yellow and so on. The statues stand in the rain, flanking me.

"It is good that peace has returned to Paxia," Paxus says at first. I nod jerkily, not letting myself speak.

"Indeed. The turmoil is still brewing, but the clans are managing," Negatus says. "But through it all balance was maintained. All of the leaders were lost, and now all of them are found."

"The elements continue to oppose each other," Paxus agrees with a nod.

"What?" I ask, the first words I've spoken all day. "I thought you said there was peace."

"Opposition is not conflict," Paxus states. "Just as a shadow is not mere darkness."

I still do not know where he is coming from. "But it is darkness."

"And yet is it not only darkness," Negatus adds. "A shadow implies the existence of an object with presence. A shadow is dark, truth. Yet your shadow's incorporeal form means you yourself are here, also truth."

"You have influence," Paxus continues.

"You have importance," the ram-horned statue amends.

"You exist," says Paxus, and it feels final. Absolute.

Through this conversation on shadows and existence, my gaze continues to lower. By the end, my eyes are fixed firmly on the stony ground beneath. I cannot bring myself to look up, as if a force pushes my head downwards. The emotion takes a moment to put a name to: shame.

"I'm sorry. I almost turned against them," I say. The words are hard to bring up, to admit to being less than a saint is difficult. I almost want to deny it, but under both their gazes, when they have both ventured out to meet me, seems like too much of a disservice to them. And, if nothing else, I know my duty.

"When the clan leaders went missing- when my clan leader went missing. I didn't know the others were taken either. I thought the other clans had did this. I wanted to fight them. I argued for battling against the other clans- maybe Geoto, or Dynamo. I don't know- all I was thinking about was how to get revenge. I didn't even think that it could have been The`Galin."

"Why?" Paxus asks, not unkindly.

"Because I thought it was injustice. Nautica had just been slighted. More than just slighted." I sigh, tightening my grip on my sword. "I was angry. I wanted to find who did this. I wanted to make them pay."

My grip relaxes, and I let my arms drop down to my sides. The tip of my sword digs into the ground, and I keep my gaze trained on the small scar it makes. "I'm sorry. I know you both keep talking about unity within the clans, throughout the clans. I agreed with you back when I first joined mine. I'm such a hypocrite." The last words come out as a whisper, bitter as ash.

In the wake of my confession, there is only the sound of rain bouncing off the ground.

"To have pride for yourself or your clan is not such a bad thing," ponders Negatus, eventually. "Perhaps in excess, yes, but having pride is a flaw."

"Imperfection," Paxus says, "is but one part of the whole. A large part, maybe, but it is not something you can escape from. You can never leave your shadow behind. It will never leave you either."

"And yet when you admit imperfection, you come closer to achieving perfection. You Lorians exist in a state of paradox, where to do one thing is to do its opposite. It is your nature, and it may be a reason that The`Galin has taken an interest in you. It may not."

"It may be that he wants to see which you will choose," Paxus says, and he doesn't appear to be looking at me.

They seem to brush off my confession so easily. My shame, self-hatred, torment, pain. "I nearly did exactly as his agent wanted." My tone is harsher than I expected them to be, but it is as if something has broken within me. The words do not stop. "I thought about fighting my fellows, to break apart the camaraderie that we have formed over these months and everything that we have fought for, to play right into The`Galin's hands! I swore to defend Lore against anything, to work together with my fellow warriors, and I thought to raise my sword against them! What worth do I have when I cannot even keep my promises, the most basic of vows?"

The two are silent after my outburst, and the only sound is the rain. It takes me a while to realize that I have thrown my sword to the ground, where it crushes the grass and lies still.

"Do you wish for punishment?" Paxus asks after a while. "Is that what you wish for?"

"The punishment fits the crime. That is justice. That is balance." Negatus hops around, dancing back and forth between one palm and the next. "It is why we exist. We seek balance."

"To make sure that the scales do not tip further in one direction-" Here Paxus leans to the left, so his waving arms nearly touch the ground, "-or the other." Then to the right, so quickly that my eyes themselves, are still reeling from the whiplash when Paxus rights himself once more. "Now, is punishment what you seek?"

Is it? I don't know.

"Then let us give you punishment," Negatus says. "You thought about betraying everything. We have thought to punish you. There. It is done."

"The punishment fits the crime," Paxus says, a warm hand on my shoulder. "What use is there in continuing to blame yourself? You have already tortured yourself a hundred times over for this act. What can we do to you that your mind already hasn't?"

"Do not keep looking back. That path is closed to you now. All that remains for you is the future." Negatus remains at his perch on the stump, but his eyes meet mine and for a short instant, all I can see is the world reflected in blue. Then it becomes green, yellow, ever changing, and the moment is gone. "You learn from the past, but you use your knowledge for the future."

"You were not the only one to think of turning on your comrades. Many others did as well. Many even acted on it. You did not."

"That is what is important," says Negatus.

"The`Galin sent his servant to stir unrest and chaos within Lore. He succeeded, to a certain extent. Paxia was in turmoil," Paxus continues. "Lorians turned on each other, accused each other of kidnapping and treason. But unity triumphed."

"His agent expected Lorians to follow what he thought was their nature and descend into violence and anarchy. There was violence. There was anarchy. But unity still won," Negatus adds with something that may have been a smirk but is for sure nothing more than a trick of the light. "What is your true nature, then? Surely not chaos, as the agent expected."

"But certainly not mindless obedience either," Paxus says.

"No," I agree, almost instantly. "Not any of those two." The mere suggestions themselves are enough to put a bad taste in my mouth. We aren't like that, I am sure of it.

"Then what?" I cannot be sure who asks the question. Their voices are like knives scraping across stone, thin and hollow. Expectant.

I stay silent, thinking. The anger is still there, somewhat, but it is cowed, hidden beneath a desire for answers. Later, I can address my own self-loathing. For now, there is a question that requires an answer.

The answer comes to me in a voice on the wind, or perhaps a voice in my mind.

"We are not just either of the extremes. We are more than that. Where there are two opposites, there is always a middle ground. The ability to adapt, to change, to choose. Empty, yet able to be filled. To be one, the other, both, and neither. Individual, unique, but united. An infinite potential." For the first time this morning, it is easy to raise my face. To look into their eyes.

Paxus smiles, perhaps. Negatus maybe grins.

"Then have hope," Negatus says, nudging my side gently with his horns. "Face the sun. Dawn will always come."

"Then have hope," Paxus echoes, gently touching my shoulder with one of his hands and placing my weapon into my hands with another. "Face the moon. The stars will always rise."

"Day follows night. Night follows day," proclaims Negatus, leaning back to rest on his palms.

"What is gone is not yet broken."

"What is lost may still be found."

"Have Hope." Together, voices fading into silence as the sky segues to light. Day is rising. Paxus turns to the north, Negatus to the south, back to where they must be. I reach my boat, tethered to the shore, and I must return to my place as well.

There is no denying it now, we are at the brink of war. A war in which we may lose everything, and nearly have. But even so, there just may be a peace worth fighting for.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 18
6/17/2012 15:32:03   

AQW Character Name: Bash Fury
AQW Character ID:24223968
The Creation of Humanity

Once Lore was a place of pure Shadow. No Hero, no Princess, no nothing. However, where there is Shadow, there is always light that creates it. This Light was from the Sky Gods. The Sky Gods were legendary beings, who far surpassed the power of any creature. The Sky Gods lived in a Kingdom far above Lore. This place later became known as the Sky Kingdoms.
The Sky Gods knew nothing of the land below them. They thought their Kingdom was the only one in all the world. But, the creatures of Lore knew of the Sky Gods little Kingdom.
They hated their "neighbors". They thought they were spoiled, and misused their power. But alas, they could do nothing as they had no means of getting up in the sky. That is, until a being of immense power came along, This being was Sepulchure.
Sepulchure was the first Necromancer. He was also the strongest.
Sepulchure used his mastery over the Undead to create one massive being. A dracolich. Sepulchure rode his dracolich up into the Sky Kingdoms and screeched his challenge to the Sky Gods. Sepulchure led the Sky Gods to the surface of Lore. However, the Sky Gods were not foolish enough to go by themselves. They called their army of trained warriors to them and waged war on the shadow beings.
It was a long and deadly battle. The battle destroyed half of Lore. It seemed as if the battle would go on for ages. The Sky Gods lost over half their brave army. The shadow beings have lost nearly as much.
But, there was one warrior who did not go into battle. He stayed in his room in a tall spire in the Sky Castle. He thought this war was pointless. This Hero's name was; Alteon.
Alteon watched the battle from his magic mirror. He knew this war would go on for ages if this kept up. He decided he must do something to stop this war.
Alteon was the magical weaponsmith of the Sky Kingdoms. Alteon lay in his cot wondering what he must do. Then it hit him.
He must create balance. For this he sought out the legendary, Doom Ore, and Light Ore. Alteon then smithed the finest weapons he had ever made. Then he did something that no being had ever dared to do. He trapped the Spirits of both Good and Evil.
He forced the two Spirits to split themselves into all the weapons. The weapons the Spirit of Good inhabited were later called the Destiny weapons. The weapons the Spirit of Evil inhabited were called the Doom weapons. Alteon chose one weapon. He chose the Blinding Light of Destiny. He then chucked another weapon; the DoomBlade out into the unknown.
Out in the fields of Lore, the battle was still being raged. Sepulchure was ordering his troops around when he saw a ball of dark light hurdling towards him. He used his dark powers to slow the object down. On closer examination he saw that it was a blade. Sepulchure sensed great power within this weapon. Then the Blade did something that almost scared Sepulchure. The Blade spoke.
"I have sensed great power within you, Necromancer. Let me into your mind and I will increase that power by one thousand." spoke the Blade. His voice sounded as if it had been killed and killed, time and time again.
"I will bow down to your power. Make me as powerful as the DARKNESS!" Sepulchure roared.
The Blade then took over Sepulchure's mind.
Alteon jumped down to the surface of Lore. He landed right in the middle of the the battle. Alteon had harnessed the power of the Blinding Light of Destiny, and was now laying waste to both sides of the battle.
Sepulchure saw Alteon and flew to his side.
He slashed at Alteon's hip. Alteon deflected it with his arm guard. Alteon attempted to behead Sepulchure. Sepulchure ducked and punched Alteon in the stomach, Alteon jumped back and fired a blast of energy at Sepulchure. Sepulchure created a barrier of Darkness
and absorbs the energy.
Then the two weapons met in a collision. When a Doom weapon and a Destiny weapon meet. The Balance is created. The Balance created a huge explosion and merged the shadow beings and the Sky Army together and formed...The first humans.
Alteon and Sepulchure had not been merged. Instead they created Champions. The Champions of Light and Darkness. And the two Champion were launched to other parts of Lore. Alteon fled and tried to round up the humans, while Sepulchure fled to the mountains.
Humanity has been formed, and the war between Good and Evil has begun

Post #: 19
6/20/2012 15:08:02   
Rune Knight

AQ Character Name: Faerdin
AQ Character ID: 21313273
Name of your Story: Fire Consumes

Determination burned so familiarly in the eyes of the golden-haired boy, Faerdin knew there would be much difficulty in convincing him. The acrid fumes billowed about them, watering countless eyes and urging father and son alike to follow the armed men and women that marched past. War drums poisoned the air with a prelude for the battle to come, and as Faerdin's heart began to beat in time with the music, he knew that time was not to be wasted. "I thought I had told you not to follow me, Velen."

"You can't stop me, father. I won't let you, not after what they did to our home!"

"Velen, please," Never before had Faerdin pleaded with his own son, but times were desperate. "Return to Ashenvale. Or better yet, return to Battleon with your mother. Your mother needs you and you aren't nearly ready for this. You need to stay safe!"

The boy named Velen looked as though he had been struck. "I can't believe you... you're still holding me back, even when Lore is collapsing!"

"That isn't true! I'd never-"

"Then let me fight. You saw what they did to Ashenvale, father, you saw what they did to our home!" Velen crossed his arms, the crystalline clinking of his chainmail a mere whisper beneath the bellows of the drums. Rage spilled from Faerdin's heart and seared his innards like molten metal. Unsheathing his sword, Faerdin ran his blade through the earth at Velen's feet and startled him so deeply that he stepped back.

"You are not to follow me further... You have no idea what you're getting into! This is Drakonnan we are facing. He manipulates, he murders. He has no sympathy. He killed your uncle, he killed your sister... I am not going to let him kill you, too!"

Velen opened his mouth to speak, but he failed to utter a single word. An eternity of silence passed as Faerdin awaited Velen's response, occasionally interrupted by the roar of a dragon or explosion, always followed by the death throes of yet another lost warrior. Blood searing his veins, Faerdin whirled around to join the carnage. A low voice halted him. "Fine. I see how it is. But let me tell you something. You will sincerely regret having told me to leave. You will regret it until the day you die."

Without another word, Velen turned and walked along the worn dirt road. A small voice in Faerdin's heart whispered, begging for him to call him back, but nothing could change his mind. He would not allow his son to be so foolish. He would not allow him to fight in a battle that could potentially steal his life, not when he was so young. With a sigh, Faerdin began to readjust the heavy plates of steel that protected him. As he placed his helm upon his head, Faerdin thought to himself, It is for the best...

"Captain! Captain!" Faerdin turned to see a leather-clad sentry sprinting up along the path, fighting the current of knights, mages, and common adventurers to reach him. "Sir, the battle is not going as we had planned... Drakonnan must have disturbed a colony of Plasma Dragons-"

Faerdin's knees nearly buckled at the weight of the sentry's revelation. "Plasma Dragons? But... that can't be. They couldn't-"

"The stories are true. I can assure you, Plasma Dragons do exist... and they are decimating us." When Faerdin read the frigid fear and despair in the man's eyes, he swallowed and seemed to steel himself. Now was the time to make his move for the Eastern Hills.

"Thank you. Today will not end in defeat. I swear it," Faerdin immediately stepped past the sentry, weaving his way through the sea of marching warriors until he found a beautiful, tawny stallion. Armor plated its more sensitive areas, and the spirit of the warrior ignited within its auburn eyes at the sight of him. After patting its silky, ebon mane, Faerdin climbed onto its back and mounted the warhorse. Raising his sword high, he coaxed his steed through the warriors surrounding him and shouted, "To victory, my friends! Drakonnan may burn our homes, but he will never quench the fires in our hearts! To me!"

Emboldened by Faerdin's display, the men and women within the crowd began to march with greater confidence, their synchronized footfalls echoing across the countryside like the drums that had pounded only minutes before. They moved faster and faster, gaining momentum until the battlefield was finally in sight. The crowd erupted into cheers and began to charge their way toward the inferno, caring not for their own lives, but for the future of their children, their families, and their homes.

What Faerdin saw chilled him to his very core.

Flames crackled in the palms of Drakonnan's spindly footsoldiers, devouring all in their path when hurled in the direction of even Lore's finest warriors. Strange insects of all kinds littered the landscape, ranging from giant spiders with white-hot pincers that sparked upon meeting a sword or shield to strange, mantis-like creatures that soared the sky, swooping down every so often to snatch a quick meal. Faerdin's heart froze as he noted the bodies that already littered the landscape. Fire and blood painted the emerald hillside crimson, filling even the most seasoned of warriors with a sense of impending doom. These aren't soldiers... they're forces of nature. Tasting bile, Faerdin attempted to gather himself for the first wave.

A savage roar tore through the dark clouds above Faerdin and his battalion, forcing many of the combatants to cover their ears. With a beat of massive wings, the smog cleared to reveal a neon blue dragon. Wicked scales shimmered at the thunder and lightning that flashed and crashed about it, blinding everyone present and lending their battlefield a surreal appearance. The most horrible part of the drake, however, was its eyes; indecipherable orbs that seemed to house a void of anger and bloodlust.

Those depthless pools sought prey, but found only Faerdin. It began to descend.

"To me!" Faerdin shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts while the azure drake beat its wings, drawing closer and closer.

The soldiers drew inward, raising their shields as Faerdin did the same. Finally, the dragon soared through the air to strike at the very heart of the battalion, easily knocking many warriors off their feet. While they attempted to recover, a group of archers began to nock their arrows. Several others unsheathed small knives meant specifically for throwing, and the few mages they were given began to channel their mana. Pointing the tip of his sword at the dragon, Faerdin cried, "Fire!"

Projectiles of all kinds- arrows, spells, knives- whistled through the air and, though many of them missed, forced the dragon to shriek from its pain. Turning around, it sliced through the air and descended with the intent to kill gleaming all the more fiercely in its pitch-black eyes. Faerdin's heart nearly stopped as he realized what the dragon was about to do.

"It's landing! Everyone, clear away!"

Once more, the dragon aimed directly for the center of their group. Its claws struck the ground the way a hammer would a gong, causing the very earth to shudder beneath its weight. Faerdin paled at the sound of blood-curdling howls, realizing that several of his warriors must have been trampled by the beast. With an ominous crackle, the dragon reared its head and opened its maw to shower its opposition with a dazzling flurry of electricity. Many of those who had been struck fell to rise no more. Someone has to stop this, Faerdin thought.

Leaping down from his horse, Faerdin dashed toward the middle of their group. Noticing his movements, the dragon shook the ground as it turned to face him. It almost seemed to be scowling, displeased by his presence to such a degree that it deafened him with yet another roar. Grimacing, Faerdin lifted his sword and shouted, "Encircle it! Now!"

Slowly but surely, their ranks began to recover. As the battalion wove and knit themselves around the dragon, it growled and lashed out at individual warriors with its ivory talons. Pikes and spears sent orange sparks flying, each strike grating sharply across the drake's scales. Faerdin himself had retrieved a spear and jabbed at the dragon every moment he had the opportunity, steadily buying time for the mages as they drew from their deepest reserves of power. The azure light of their aura clashed wondrously with the fire that seemed determined to engulf all of Lore.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Faerdin called out, "Steady... hold him back!"

Fear glinted coldly in the eyes of the infernal beast, clearly knowing what was to come. It laboriously flapped its wings to no avail, the thin membranes that made up its wings having been pierced by the warriors' spears. However, Faerdin saw the flash of light erupt from the hands of the mages, and he knew it was over. A colossal jet of water smote the dragon's heart, tearing from it a shrill and anguished howl. There was silence even from Drakonnan's warriors across the battlefield as the mighty dragon shook the earth a final time.

For the first time in days, Faerdin smiled. Drakonnan's forces were not invincible. "Let this be a message to your maggot-riddled fiends, Drakonnan! We will not be overcome by a few shrimps with pyromania! Charge!"

A heartfelt cry erupted not only from the forces Faerdin commanded, but from warriors across the entire battlefield. Drakonnan's minions seemed to shirk from the revitalized warriors, devastated by the spells of their mages and nearly coming apart at the seams. Leaping back onto his steed, Faerdin grinned and raised his blade to the sky. "By the Lords, we shall have victory!"

But as Faerdin drew closer to the bulk of Drakonnan's minions, a strange feeling came over him. The very air seemed to glisten and shimmer, and the smoke around Faerdin seemed to become more and more dense. Coaxing his warhorse to halt, his eyes widened as the smoke nearly blinded his sight. The very last thing he saw was man in crimson robes and a crackling wave of flames. Then, all was darkness.


Pain shot through Faerdin's skull as he awoke, almost delirious. The ground was unlike that of the battlefield he had just been on... it was soft, cool, and welcoming. Opening his eyes, he realized that he had been laying upon grass. He hungrily scrutinized his surroundings, desperate to know where he was and how he had gotten there. As his eyes wandered the lonely, beautiful hills, it struck him.

"The Eastern Hills... but what...?"

Faerdin rose to his knees and ran his fingers through the emerald blades around him. The ground was completely dry; an oddity after a battle in which so much blood had been spilled. It was then that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Faerdin whirled around only to find a single rose. It seemed to be the only flower for miles, glittering happily with the dew of a new dawn. Curiosity took over Faerdin and coaxed him to move closer to the flower, bringing a reluctant smile to his lips as he reached forward.

Fire. Fire was everywhere. Someone, something in armor as black as night cackled like a maniac-

Blinking, Faerdin backpedaled and crawled away from the rose, gasping for breath. A vision had just come over him; it was so powerful, so real, he would have lost his balance if he had been standing. But nothing really seemed to be wrong; the field was as tranquil as it had been a few moments before, and the rose continued to sway merrily with the wind.


Jolting, Faerdin turned to see his son standing above him. Overwhelmingly powerful emotions seemed to clog Faerdin's chest as he gazed up at Velen. There were so many things he wanted to say at once. In an instant he was hugging Velen to his chest, tears dripping softly down his face. "Velen... Velen, I'm so, so sorry I had to tell you to leave, I never wanted to push you away..."

"But dad, I'm fighting."

"W-what?" Faerdin pulled out of the hug and grabbed Velen's shoulders. "I want you to be safe, Vel-"

He was gone. As quickly as he had appeared, Velen simply vanished from Faerdin's arms. All of his strength seemed to flee as he fell to his knees, losing even the will to cry. What is going on? Where am I?

"No, father, please! You can't do this!" A boy shouted as he parried a jab with the man in black, desperation in his eyes-

The visions suffocated Faerdin once again. He clutched at his head, grunting and attempting to stand. "What is going on?!"


Faerdin glanced up to see Velen once again, now brought to his knees before a man in long, flowing robes of deepest red. A cruel mask hid his face from view, but never could it wash away the smile that surely lay beneath it. Drakonnan raised his hand with all the authority of the Fates themselves, and Velen was instantly enveloped in a pillar of flames. Sickeningly joyful laughter echoed throughout the clearing.

"No! Not my son! Please, anything but-!"

"You are weak," Drakonnan growled as he snapped his fingers, causing the pillar of flames to fade and reveal that Velen was completely gone. "You cannot protect your family or your friends, Faerdin... they are mine to control. They are mine to use, and they are mine to slaughter should I so wish it. You are powerless, and you cannot do anything..."


Drakonnan's haughty laughter began to grow louder and louder, the earth nearly trembling-


Unsheathing his sword, Faerdin ran forward with all of his might, intending to run his blade completely through the arrogant pyromancer. A wave of fire instantly blasted him off his feet, and as he was thrown backward, his surroundings and even Drakonnan himself began to melt away. Crimson bled across Faerdin's vision as the back of his head struck a hard, wooden floor. Wearily attempting to stand, a hand coaxed him to remain where he was sitting. Glancing up, Faerdin saw a man with a thick, scraggly beard. A tan apron was wrapped around his chest, and the hammer of a blacksmith was clutched tightly in his hand.

"Please," said Yulgar. "You may want to stay where you are until the battle is ov-"

"Where am I," murmured Faerdin. "And who are you?"

"My name's Yulgar. We're in the town of Battleon... it looks like someone was controlling you, because you didn't seem so friendly a moment before."

"B-Battleon? I told my son to come here! My wife and my son are here!" An icy chill wormed its way up his spine as he continued, "Have you seen a young boy around here? Around my height, yellow hair-?"

With a frown, Yulgar rose to his full height and walked out of the building. He could hardly believe what was going on. Clambering onto his feet, Faerdin clumsily ran after him. "Please, you have to help me!"

It was then that a silvery gleam near the door of the house caught Faerdin's eye. He glanced down only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Resting before him was a man with golden hair, clad in chainmail armor and clutching his sword in death the way he had in life. Like those of the blue dragon, once vibrant and alive, his eyes saw everything and nothing. They would eternally remain widened in a look of spine-chilling fear.

"No... no..."

Faerdin lifted his sword to his eyes, noting the blood that glistened along its length like cursed rubies. Blackened plates of armor covered his entire body, clutching to him as though they were embodiments of the unforgivable sin he had just commited. Shivers wracking his entire body, Faerdin howled to the heavens. He cried out to the Lords who had turned so viciously against him, but more importantly, he cried out for the hollow place where his shattered heart once lie.

< Message edited by Faerdin -- 6/24/2012 23:12:13 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 20
6/22/2012 14:07:39   
Dwelling Dragonlord

ArchKnight AQ Pedia / OOC / L&L

AQ Character Name: Dragoncommander Azer
AQ Character ID: 18760217
Name of your Story: The Spirit of Secret

The sun rose as a lone figure climbed up a mountain. This particular figure wore a long grey cloak with a matching hood and a metal armour of a lighter shade of grey adorned with spiked pauldrons. His efforst were being slowed down by the harsh winds and the lack of oxygen at this altitude. Yet he did not complain, he had a clear goal. Well, it remained to be seen whether this one was another one of his "clear" goals. He took out a withered map, which showed little cracks as the harsh winds tore at the parchment. He had to be close, assuming this map didn't lead him to yet another tomb filled with gold or lore, which was important for sure, but not exactly what he was looking for. He thought of the Weyr and how it had helped him to understand the grace of his interest. Sure he had partaken in the spirit quest with a few Vartai to find the true calling, but everything he had learned there paled in comparison to helping out around the Weyr. He had hoped he could've shared his findings, but he knew the others had already forsaken their quest, their dream. He too had almost abandoned the quest and joined Lord Cyrus, but he knew there was still a lot of knowledge which was not available to the Dragons and Vartai of Medrovia. Dracomancy was a step in the right direction, if only one of the few he had made in the past years.

He glanced at the map again, then carefully put it back in one of the many pouches on his belt, barely leaving enough space to leave his longsword. Each and every one of them was stuffed with oddities like spices, gold, gems or a potion packed in to better protect the vials. He shivered and breathed some hot air in his hands against the cold. He would've used fire, magical or not, but he knew the oxygen was scarce enough as it was. The cloth for his mouth made it difficult to breathe as well, but the protection against the harsh winds was more than compensating.

In front of what appeared to be the ruins of building which was built into the mountain I halted. The worn-out elaborate paintings of dragons gave me good hope I was at the right place. The size of the opening didn't hurt my suspicions either.

The years had learned me to deal better with disappointment as I'd seen my fair share of it, but my guts told me I'd find another piece of the puzzle here. I stepped inside, my eyes naturally went along the walls which appeared to have suffered greatly. I could see carefully constructed walls which had crumbled down, to a person without knowledge of architecture this place was just a mine.

Scorch marks .... someone camped out here a few months ago. I tried to believe it was someone who shared my convictions, but I knew better. The last time someone had joined the quest without taking the pact, he had been in it for his own selfish reasons and now had the power which should have never been his in the first place. Even those who had taken the pact often strayed from our beliefs, either for power out of weakness or the corruption which the power brought. I sometimes wondered if I found enough of that power, if I would not become corrupted as well.

I thought of my friend, Volu. He too had been consumed by corruption, yet now he was redeeming himself. Freeing himself from the indoctrination of lies and hatred he had been exposed to as a child. I wish I could free the others, but I really doubted they were smart enough to break free from their master's hold, let alone their heritage.

I snapped out of my contemplations, I always had a lot of those, but especially the last year when I began to doubt everything. I readjusted my hood and conjured a light sphere in my left hand while I drew my longsword. These abandoned tunnels were a perfect place for monsters to hold up, not that I blamed them. The weather outside wasn't really inviting for a picknick.

The walls were more intact this deep within the tunnel, I could even admire some dragons fighting or ... kissing each other?
Sadly the draconic texts were beyond reading, but then again I'd be busy for weeks with studying the stories this place had to tell if they had been readable. As I navigated my way through a maze of tunnels I noticed how the walls began to look more primitive, but thanks to the markers I followed I knew I was going in the right direction. Whatever that meant ....

I finally came upon a gigantic room with crystals sticking out of the rocky walls which lit it up. I was completely in awe at the sight, extinguishing my light sphere without realizing it, the room could easily fit the arena in Krovesport I had been to and could easily match the majesty of the temple to the Creator. In the middle of the room, the bones of several dragons rested. The scenery just looked so peaceful, so serene. I estimated they had been undisturbed for ages. On the small cultivated part of the walls I read "We are to our parents to how they were to us." As I made a step forward, I figured out the meaning to that message as an entire network of lasers shot from the crystals, effectively enveloping the skeletons in a cage of light. I was never as happy to wear a hood at a time like that, seeing anyone who would've directly looked at the brightness of that light would've likely gone permanently blind.

After a few failed attempts I finally came to the conclusion that I did not have enough knowledge of magic to get past these defences by myself. I made my way outside and summoned a messenger hawk, which I gave a message to carry to the last person I knew to be true to our convictions and hoped it would reach him without delay.

I spent my days waiting in front of the entrance to the tunnel system and the nights wandering through the tunnels after that. Studying the maze of tunnels and found out that if I had used a fire sphere to light my way I would've set fire to the dust I had overlooked in my excitement over the wall paintings and such. Speaking of the wall paintings, what I had first mistaken for erosion now appeared to be vandalism as only the words were missing. As if someone had wanted to keep the writings a secret, although why was beyond me. There were also peculiar places sun bleached, odd indeed since there was no way for the sun to reach this far underground.

After six days of waiting and I was just over thinking the defence mechanism again in front of my campfire, Urnov arrived. He wore heavy metal armour which would've glimmered in the sunlight, were it not for the animal skins which covered it.

"I see you still have not taken a liking the cold." I said as I got up.

"It was not me who spent days amongst the berserkers." Urnov replied as we exchanged a firm handshake.

"Though it just as well might be." I replied as my eyes went over the thick layers of animal skins. Berserkers wore a lot of hides of fierce beasts, but not for the cold. They used them to intimidate opponents and weed out the weak and feeble so only those brave enough were left standing. Brave enough to be considered worthy enemies.

"You needed my help with something?" Urnov said, apparently eager to go inside where the mountain winds left him in peace.

"Yes, follow me. I'd like you to see this defence mechanism yourself." I said.

While I navigated Urnov through the maze, I could not help but notice something was different about him. I could sense an aura of powerful magic surrounding him, perhaps he had experienced more luck in our quest than me. Seeing it did not feel malignant I decided to let it slide for now.

When we arrived at the burial site, I had seen this place so many times already that I was not too greatly impressed anymore, unlike Urnov who seemed enchanted at the sight of the burial chamber. It took him a few minutes to snap out of it.

"Is-is this ...." Urnov muttered.

"Yes, a burial chamber made by and for Light dragons." I said.

"I still don't see why you needed my he-" Urnov said as he walked in the direction of the dragon skeletons.

"Wait!" I yelled, but it was to late. The defence mechanism was triggered and a laser shot right past Urnov, the sheer heat of the laser made the animal skins burst into flames. For a moment I thought him to be lost, but he simply bent the light away from him and a cold wind expelled the flames. Not just the laser that had nearly hit him, but also the other lasers within the room. My own ideas would've involved a tunnel or summoning an Adalon, both which wouldn't work. There was no way to navigate with the first option and the surface of the Adalon would've likely reflected the deadly lasers to either myself or the dragon bones.

"Help me out here!" He shouted agitated, clearly strained by the amount of mana it took. I did not hesitate a second and together we formed a gigantic halo surrounding us. What had meant to keep us out, now formed a barrier which absorbed the lasers.

"I got this." Urnov said and I nodded while lowering my arms.

"That was impressive." I said.

"You told me to be prepared, did you not? It took me a while before I found a useful scroll between the junk and artefacts I carry around, hoping they might prove useful one day. Luckily I did." Urnov said while having his arms stretched to maintain the barrier.

"What do you intend to do now?" Urnov asked me as he looked at the dragon bones.

"I intend to question them, of course." I replied calmly.

"You intend to do what?!" Urnov paled at my words.

I looked back at Urnov, he now resembled a paladin who clearly knew nothing of his Lord's ways.

"You practice the dark arts ...." Urnov mumbled defeaten.

"I do not practice the dark arts, I learned this ritual from the Nogh'da." I said, but I knew my words reached for the ears of a deaf man. I should have known better, I suppose. I wanted to comfort him by saying I would use light necromancy I was taught by a Brihaldo, but I doubted that would make the situation any better.

"You learned from monsters ...." Urnov mumbled.

I began chanting the incantation and a figure of light emerged from the skeleton.

"Why has thy summoned me from my eternal rest, human?" The apparition spoke. It was then that Urnov began to stir.

"Do not listen to him, he's an evil necromancer who wishes to control you!" He ranted.

"Urnov, please." I tried to calm him, but it was of no use.

"I will not allow thou to control me." The apparition spoke.

"I do not seek to control you, I merely seek the knowledge of dragon magic!" I attempted to reason with the spirit, but a bright light it spew from its ethereal mouth forced me to duck. I created a sphere of darkness to cancel out a second ranged attack, but the force of the light was far greater than my magic and blew me over on a skeleton which didn't make for a soft landing.

"Indeed, this one is of darkness." The apparition spoke to Urnov.

"I thought I knew him better, shows how you can be wrong." Urnov replied as he bowed to the spirit.

"I will join thou to make sure more evil-doers will be defeated." The apparition said to him.

I attempted to get up, my back ached badly from my fall. It would be difficult to heal as my hands could not properly reach all the parts which hurt. With a throw of pain, I managed to pull myself up only to roll over as a fireball was hurled in my direction.

"Blast, I missed." Urnov cursed.

"Urnov, stop it!" I yelled from my cover.

Urnov wanted to throw another fireball at me when the apparition interrupted him.

"Stop. You'll destroy the remains of my kin. Seal him within the light instead." The apparition said and despite I hated those words, I had to respect the intellect it possessed. Urnov released the light and soon I found myself trapped within the dragon's tomb. Ironically enough I now wanted to get out the place I had desperately had wished to get into. Then again, fate was often cruel like that.

Urnov and the apparition left without saying a word to me. The world had taken a harsh stance against necromancy, that I knew. I had thought Urnov would at least have understood I did not use the art for malevolent purposes. I suppose he was the only one left, because he saw everything black and white.

The lasers were so hot and intense. Only the tiny portals into the realm of water I created on my tongue and body made it so that I did not dehydrate within minutes. Figuring out I had nothing to lose, I attempted to try my previous approach again and recited the incantation once more.

The radiant spirit of a dragon emerged from a skeleton, but that was only what I assumed since everything was far too bright for me to see anything.

"Why has thy summoned me from my rest?" A voice inquired.

"I came here to ask about dragon magic, but right now I could do with turning off the lasers." I said as sweat dripped along my skin.

"How did thou get past the lasers?"

"I had someone with me who bended the light away, but he turned on me when I summoned the ghost of another dragon whose bones rest here."

"Why did he turn on thou?"

"I used necromancy, which he views as a vile act. I don't suppose you'll like it anymore than the other spirit did."

"I don't think you have bad intentions, after all you could have just forced me if you really wanted to."

"Let me turn those lasers off."

An incantation was cited and the lasers dissipated. The spirit now could be seen floating in the room which now had an eerie feel with the crystals all dimmed. Slowly I rose to my feet, dusting off my cloak which had gotten covered in bone dust. I could only hope it would give my cloak some sort of magical property when I concluded the cloak remained filthy despite my best efforts. Putting my misplaced vanity aside, I looked at the spirit.

"How did you know that? I thought this place was built by your children?"

"Our children built this sanctuary for us out of gratitude. We were once children ourselves."

"Now where did they go?"

"I don't know, they left after imprisoning me here."

"How long ago was that?"

"Not very long I'd say. Agh, my back feels sore."

I felt my painful back. I didn't think I'd make it out, as even though the lasers were no longer a barrier I could barely stand up straight.

"Let me help thou."

The spirit turned into an ethereal mist and I felt a strange entity taking control of my muscles. My heart-rate increased several times over, which was a bit unpleasant, but I also felt my magical energies as well as my health replenishing. As the control over my muscles was released, my heart-rate returned to normal again.

"I will remain here, but perhaps thou will one day learn to do this thyself. That was why thou came here in the first place, no?"

I rushed outside, but much to my surprise Urnov was nowhere to be seen.

Several months after that various reports described bandits and highwaymen robbing caravans and fighting wars within the city of Krovesport. To most other people the reports didn't mean much, but I knew what was behind it. They had been using dragon magic. I tracked down each individual which was rumoured to use that magic and killed them if they did so for malevolent purposes. I could not let one use the secrets I had unearthed for such things.

After a while I found Urnov, he had ended up as a sad drunk man. His armour was rusted and had dents all over, while he himself had grown a filthy beard. I don't think he even recognized me, which isn't too strange since I disguised myself. Krovesport had not been kind to me and I had not been kind to her in return, so I had best keep a low profile. From what I learned, he had lost trust in other humans and found friends in the bottles of the Krovesport taverns. It didn't take him very long to blurt out the secrets of dragon magic the spirit had entrusted him. I erased them from his memory and me included. Then I dismissed the spirit as well. I figured somewhere out there, people with that knowledge still eluded me. I would find them in time, of that I was sure.

I pulled over a blanket and summoned us two zards. I barely managed to lift him on his steed. We rode out of Krovesport, while I threw a few well-aimed knives at some would-be muggers' throats. He was still dazed as I left him at the doorstep of the Paladin Order, somewhere I figured he'd be in his place.
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 21
6/22/2012 19:27:53   

AQ Character Name: supahknight
AQ Character ID: 62746295
Name of your Story: The History of the Guardian Tower

Chapter One- The History of the Guardian Tower
As many of you have noticed, AdventureQuest is the current time for the world of Lore. AQWorlds is just another AdventureQuest but with a storyline. DragonFable occurs five years before AdventureQuest and MechQuest takes place 4, 995 years before DragonFable. But probably the most important question to ask is how Guardianship was created and how did most Guardian Towers and Guardians ceased to exist? Three of these games are included in the answer and AQWorlds should make a quest chain or a release on this. Also, let’s see how a partnership between the AntiGuardian and Sepulchure plays out. This is the whole reason I participated in this contest.
5,000 years before AdventureQuest in the MechQuest era, the city of Tibattleonia was attacked by the ShadowScythe, an intergalactic evil force bent on destroying and conquering planets, on the planet of Loreon (or Lore). The most gifted and prized student of G.E.A.R.S University was sent with his (or her) mecha to help survivors escape from the city and stop the invasion. The student was able to save many lives. Plus, he (or she) stopped the invasion by destroying the general, a Kaiju (not much is known about this beast).
But the student couldn’t prevent the ShadowScythe from destroying Tibattleonia. The war on the ShadowScythe did have its tolls. The student looked back at the city one last time. A sign that read, “Now Leaving Tibattleonia!” was in the distance. Then the “Ti” and the “ia” parts of the sign broke off. The sign now flickered “Battleon.” From the cockpit of his (or her) mecha the student was inspired. From that day, the student vowed to protect the innocent. He (or she) went on to do many good deeds, such as fighting EbilCorp and saving planets. But the most heroic deed that he (or she) committed was building the first Guardian Tower in Soluna City. He (or she) started the Guardian Order and soon the principles of Guardianship spread across Loreon (or Lore). Soon there were guardian Towers in almost every city (or town). But now the student’s legacy is gone. The Guardian Tower in Soluna City (or the town of Soluna) no longer stands. In fact, the city (or town) no longer stands. The ShadowScythe wiped it out but the Guardians were able to unite with the student to finally defeat them once and for all.

But soon a new ShadowScythe lead by the greatest DoomKnight who has ever lived, Sepulcurehas rose up from the old one’s ashes. Some rumors have it that the giant galactic lord that controlled the old ShadowScythe was sealed in the Necrotic Blade of Doom that the mighty Sepulchure wields.

Chapter Two- Finding the Demon

During the era of DragonFable, Sepulchure was up to no good. He stole the White Dragon Box from a wind temple and necrotized the dragon that hatched from the dragon egg that was in the box. He then raced a mighty hero for the elemental orbs so that he could gain ultimate power. After Drakath’s betrayal and the Mysterious Stranger’s interference, Sepulchure decided to lay low for a while. But during Sepulchure’s hunt for the elemental orbs and his objective to spread doom all over Lore, Guardians were constantly in his way. So his hatred for the Guardians grew and soon he wanted to wipe them from the face of Lore. He got his wish 3 years before the AdventureQuest era and he couldn’t have accomplished this without the AntiGuardian.

To Sepulchure’s delight many Guardians were being killed and their Guardian Towers being destroyed (split in half sometimes) all over Lore. The fall of the Guardians seemed imminent but Sepulchure knew it wasn’t so. He knew that the only way to make all Guardians fall is to hit the Guardians at critical strategic points and he had two in mind. So Sepulchure planned to meet with and cooperate with who or what was causing the deaths of the all those Guardians. Now all he needed to do was consult the Necrotic Blade of Doom.

Before Sepulchure consulted with the Necrotic Blade of Doom, he went to his private quarters. He rushed inside and locked his door. He couldn’t be seen asking a simple “tool” for advice.

Before Sepulchure could talk to the Necrotic Blade of Doom, it said, “So I’m a tool now? It took you a lot of courage to sacrifice all your pride to ask me for advice. But I want to see you beg for it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I will never beg a weapon or a tool. Tell me what is causing the deaths of the Guardians and the destruction of so many Guardian Towers.” Sepulchure replied angrily.

“Calm down Sepulchure. I was just joking, can’t Lore’s greatest DoomKnight take a joke. Anyway, this work seems like it’s the work of a demon that possesses immense power. I can’t track him down because he was never alive, therefore he was never dead and any living thing that has seen him has probably met their doom. I advise talking to the Necromancer Council, they can track his lose energy and follow his trail.” the Necrotic Blade of Doom quickly replied.

Sepulchure angrily stomped out his private quarters. Within minutes, he was in the lowest part of his flying fortress. He was ready to meet his Council of Necromancers once again. How did you think Sepulchure controlled all his undead minions?

“Why did you come here, Sepulchure? Is it the demon you asked the Necrotic Blade of Doom about? Your weapon lied, we can’t even tell you where the demon has been.” the Necromancer Council said simultaneously.

Sepulchure went into a fit of rage. He screamed and then punched the wall. He lifted his hand and you could see a big hole in the wall.


“Good plan master, the heroes of Lore will think the undead all over Lore are a part of a worldwide invasion with widespread attacks. They won’t realize it’s just a worldwide undead search party.” the Necromancer Council said.


Just as the Necromancer Council said, the heroes of Lore, including the hero, thought the increase of the undead around Lore was an attempt to take over Lore. The people of Lore fought hordes of undead while they were searching. Soon the enraged Sepulchure calmed down after a flying eye came in with a report that a demon was seen killing the Guardians at Willowshire. Sepulchure commanded The Necromancer Council send all the undead to surround Willowshire and make sure the demon doesn’t get away. Soon enough, there were hordes of undead surrounding Willowshire. Sepulchure was preparing a private, face-to-face meeting with the demon. Sepulchure laughed menacingly as his flying fortress got closer to Willowshire.

The heroes of Lore didn’t take the concentration of the undead around Willowshire sitting down. They wanted to make sure the Guardians in Willowshire were okay. So an offensive was launched by all the heroes of Lore to get into Willowshire and evacuate all the townspeople. The offensive lasted for an entire week. Steel clashed and the undead hordes were thickening. Soon, Artix and the hero made it in the town despite all challenges. The other heroes were way behind. Weirdly, there was no sign of the townspeople but no undead had ventured in the town. Artix and the hero had to hurry if the reports that Sepulchure’s flying fortress was nearing Willowshire were true.

Chapter Three- The Meeting and the Plan
The Hero and Artix searched the town. Many townspeople were slaughtered. Many others were left for dead in pools of their own blood with untreatable injuries. Guardians were found killed in their blood-soaked tents. The Hero and Artix was on high alert and the last place to search was the inn. But the undead started entering the town.
“THE UNDEAD, THEY’RE CLOSING IN ON US!” the Hero shouted in despair.
“Crap, there’s too many of them and our friends are way behind!” Artix said.
“I think I should search the inn and you hold back the undead. This should be easy for you and I’m ready to solve this mystery and save millions of Guardians.” The Hero told Artix.
“Nice, but simple plan! I love it!” Artix replied.
The Hero rushed to the inn while Artix held off the undead. Artix fought furiously but the undead started overtaking him. Artix’s rage built up. He had to protect the hero from the undead. Suddenly, Artix found himself using one whiff of dark magic to make all the undead before him shatter. Artix stood there, surprised. He couldn’t have done that. He was a warrior of light and good and he couldn’t have used dark magic. Maybe it was a fluke. Artix took one deep breath but he knew it wasn’t over. The undead lurched closer and began to surround the inn.
The Hero rushed to the inn he went inside and heard a loud noise coming from upstairs. Assuming that that couldn’t be good, the Hero ran up the stairs to find something horrible. A demon was killing a Guardian that was protecting a little girl and her mom. The demon slit the Guardian’s throat with his claw and ripped his heart out of his chest with the other. Then, he gathered void magic and energy just to instantly disintegrate the Guardian’s corpse, the mother, and the little girl in one dead, cold ball of void energy. The impact created an explosion that made the Hero fall back into the stairs and fall through the floor into the basement.
The Hero slowly got up to find the innkeeper’s head on the floor looking at him (or her) with dead eyes. The demon peered through the hole that the Hero made and laughed. Then he got serious.
“What is your business here, stranger?” The demon said to the Hero.
“You are calling ME a stranger!?! You just killed hundreds of innocent townspeople and Guardians. Plus, I’m a mighty hero so tremble before my feet.” the Hero replied.
The demon laughed some more and then shouted, “Mighty!?! You are a whelp compared to me. I am a demon that has amazing power, nothing can stop me! I must kill all Guardians!”
Then the demon turned away and punched a wall hard. The inn started trembling and shaking. The Hero could hear the demon laughing evilly as the inn shook violently. The Hero ducked under a table and that was when the building instantly collapsed. The last thing the Hero heard before he blacked out was the demon walking away from the collapsed inn unhurt.
Artix looked back to the inn to find the Hero in rubble and a demon walking away from the former inn. The demon went up to Artix and hit him with his claw. Artix was sent flying and crashed into a tree. The tree’s trunk broke and fell on the unconscious Artix. The demon was enraged. He used one ball of void energy to instantly destroy all the undead around him. The undead backed away and the demon laughed.
“Are you guys afraid of my limitless power? Is that why you backed up? Stop and come and face me our I wipe this town and anywhere and everyone around it by a 5-mile radius in one sizzling ball of void energy!” the Demon shouted.
Suddenly, Sepulchure’s flying fortress appeared above Willowshire. Sepulchure jumped from his flying fortress to land perfectly on the ground. The demon was angered when Sepulchure started clapping.
“Impressive, you have immense power as a demon.” Sepulchure said.
“Shut up! I don’t need you to say that! I already know I am capable of immense power! But what fool would approach me like you just did.” the demon replied angrily.
Sepulchure continued, “I’m the greatest DoomKnight that has ever walked on Lore, Sepulchure. I believe that we both share a common goal.”
The demon said, “What might that common goal be, Sepulchure?”
“That may be true but why are you telling me this?” the demon inquired.
“So that we can team up. You can’t go destroying any Guardian battalion trying to destroy the Guardians. They will eventually hide and endure and soon gather enough power to slay you. With my brains, power, and resources and your immense rage we may be able to destroy every Guardian on the face of Lore. Plus, not much people can do anything to stop you since Lore isn’t used to seeing demons often.” Sepulchure said calmly but loudly.
“Sepulchure I have to admit that you have a lot of courage to approach me . But I just can’t team up with you, this is my mission. But just for future reference, I am known as the AntiGuardian. Plus, nobody can tame or defeat me. I am even more powerful than your avatars.” the AntiGuardian said.
“That’s what you think...” Sepulchure said coldly.
Sepulchure sent dark energy from the ground filled with the dead and rage Sepulchure had bubbling up and hit the AntiGuardian with it coating the Necrotic Blade of Doom. The AntiGuardian screamed in pain as Sepulchure’s dark energy and rage hit him. The AntiGuardian fell on his knees breathing hard.
“Now do you see my pain, sorrow, and rage? That is all caused by the Guardians.” Sepulchure shouted angrily.
“Your rage, it’s so pure. I will join forces with you so I can get my revenge on those Guardians.” the AntiGuardian said breathing hard.
After all the Undead scattered and Sepulchure and the AntiGuardian left in the flying fortress the heroes of Lore were able to find the Hero and Artix and bring them back to Falconreach for treatment.

Chapter Four- The Invasion of Soluna and Falconreach
Soon, Sepulchure’s flying fortress was docking at the birth place of the Guardian Order, literally. Sepulchure’s flying fortress shot out gigantic grappling hooks and hooked to the oldest Guardian Tower ever, the Soluna Guardian Tower. The Guardian Tower in the town of Soluna was now under attack. Sepulchure sent out his undead army for ten days and he wouldn’t let up.
The Guardians sent for help. Many messengers didn’t make it to the various towns of Lore but one messenger made it to Oaklore Keep. Oaklore Keep responded by sending their finest knights and togs and alerting all of Lore’s heroes and warriors. Soon there was a full blown war in the town of Soluna.
The air was musty and held the smell of blood and death. The clashing of steel and metal was intense and loud.But Sepulchure was planning something, it was that obvious. Soon zombies began raining down from his flying fortress and the heroes were fighting their own. Fallen heroes rose and helped Sepulchure forces to break through the defenses of the Soluna Guardian Tower. All Guardians were killed on sight and Sepulchure’s flying fortress pulled on the grappling hooks. The Soluna Guardian Tower collapsed instantly. This greatly weakened Guardian morale and just existing made Guardians feel out of place.
Meanwhile in Falconreach, the Hero and Artix were being treated for their wounds in the Guardian Tower. The Hero had made a full recovery but was going through retraining to get back to shape. However, Artix was not full recovered. He lay half dead on his bed. The Guardians of Falconreach were keeping the peace since every hero in Falconreach left town. Most of their battalion were out helping Lore since the murder of many Guardians around Lore left many towns unsafe. Soon the current Guardians started recruiting many new Guardians. These Guardians didn’t go go through much training because their assistance were needed right away. So the inexperienced Guardians were deployed all over Lore and that made Sepulchure’s plan easier.
Undead hordes were scattered all over Lore to hunt all of the Guardians and kill them. Soon every surviving Guardians on Lore sought refuge in Falconreach. Ten battalions were all that were left out of the fifty two battalions Guardian battalions ever established on Lore.
Back in Sepulchure’s flying fortress, the AntiGuardian was arguing with Sepulchure for his role in the downfall of the Guardians.
“When am I going to kill some more Guardians?!?” the AntiGuardian angrily shouted at Sepulchure.
“You have already played a huge role in the fall of the Guardians. You already made all Guardians fear being a Guardian. They have lost morale.” Sepulchure calmly said.
The AntiGuardian continued, “But I want to play a bigger role! I have a bone to pick with those Guardians. You don’t understand the rage that fuels the demon blood in my veins!”
“Maybe you’re right, may you finally tell me causes your rage?” Sepulchure said.
“My father was a honest warrior and he was protecting his town’s Guardian Tower with pride from Seekers and Undead 28 years ago because he was protecting the Darkness Orb. But the vicious beasts killed him. So my mother, a mage, started researching ways that she could bring back my father. Soon her research had caused her to cast a spell sending herself in a portal to points of the unknown. So I dedicated myself to becoming the perfect warrior meant to defeat and kill Guardians because they caused the deaths of both my parents. Soon I hired a Summoner and I commanded him to fuse my body with a demon. Now, in the present I am a half-demon bent on killing the Guardians that my father laid his life down for.” the AntiGuardian said.
Sepulchure turned back and said, “ Huh, very sad story. I was once a knight who had never lost a fight until I battled to save someone who I deeply loved and cared about. I had to sacrifice my soul to save her but after I saved her, I found myself killing her because of my lack of soul. Don’t worry AntiGuardian, you can attack Falconreach tomorrow...”
The AntiGuardian looked at Sepulchure in horror. “What kind of monster could do that?” the AntiGuardian whispered to himself.
Sepulchure stopped in his footsteps and replied, “Me.”
Tomorrow, Falconreach was in total chaos. The AntiGuardian came and destroyed the town in minutes. In one blast of energy, he made the Falconreach Guardian Tower to crumble. Guardians fled and townspeople were being sliced and diced. The AntiGuardian felt all his rage building up. He couldn’t hold it anymore.He opened a portal in the ground to bring out this new kind of energy. It felt unstoppable. It felt truly chaotic. His eyes turned purple and he obliterated the west side of Falconreach. That's when the Hero decided to evacuate as much people as possible. But he (or she) couldn’t save everybody.

The AntiGuardian finished off the Guardians that stayed behind to hold the AntiGuardian back.
The Hero cried silently as he fled Falconreach.
“What’s wrong Hero?” Trainer Eckhard asked.
“Everything I once knew is gone! The Guardians all over Lore are dead. There’s only 30 Guardians left and there’s no safe place in the world.” the Hero sobbed.
“Hero, you must always remember to Battle On and never give up.” Artix said from his stretcher.
“That’s it, lets go to BattleOn! Sepulchure doesn’t even know about that place yet (but Xan does) so that demon can’t follow us!” Trainer Eckhard said.
The survivors, including the Hero, found themselves cheering after finding hope. They traveled slowly to BattleOn and they made the once desolate wasteland into their new home. The Guardians were able to build the last Guardian Tower standing in Lore and continue their work in protecting people hoping that that the AntiGuardian would never come back again. Their numbers were able to increase to 50 and they were able to send start a small Guardian battalion with their own Guardian Tower in Chiral Valley (that later was inverted and destroyed by the First Lord of Chaos, Escherion). Warlic sold spells, Aria sold pets, and Yulgar looked after the inn and weapon shop. Two heroes rose from that town and continued to do good deeds (the Heroes of AdventureQuest and AQWorlds).
Sepulchure and the AntiGuardian went their separate ways. Sepulchure went on to waging war against Swordhaven and soon being destroyed in a encounter with Drakath. The AntiGuardian went on to hunting down the survivors of the Guardian Order and soon being defeated by one of the new heroes.

Chapter Five- Suggestions
I suggest that this be put in the Hall of Memories in AdventureQuest as a huge cutscene. I also suggest that the town of Soluna (before it was destroyed) be added to Dragonfable and its history should be explained in a quest to become an (and train) UltraGuardian (given to you by Yulgar to borrow and use in your quest to protect all that is good). In AQWorlds, you should add the ruins of Soluna to the game (in the Tenth Lord of Chaos Storyline or not) and stuff it with a lot of quests. Thanks for reading!
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 22
6/24/2012 23:37:10   

AQ Character name: kor
AQ ID #: 37590687
Name of story: Erebus

Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock. Kor knew it was the new history keeper he always knocked four times. “Come in the door's unlocked for once!” He knew that he had played a major role in some of the recent events in several timelines, which meant he was one of the most wanted interviews. It annoyed him that he had be here instead of in Battleon or Deren or another major settlement that was in potential danger.
As soon as the histories had been fully built, it came to a long stalemate as to who would run it and become the lore master for the Chronomancer order. Nactine had, after his election, gathered many of the best minds and several Chronomancers willing to skim across time and created copies of all timelines history books. An impressive task was now before him to write out the story of all of the order.
The door creaked open, despite it being a relatively new door. Nactine stepped in, in the metallic brown and blue regalia they had made just for one in his position.
“So, you truly are willing to answer my questions now? This isn’t just some joke is it?” Just as nervous as when they first ended up in their new homes. He grabbed a chair and promptly took out a large book’s worth of paper, a phoenix feather quill, and some Bracken oil ink. It seemed as if he planned to hear the full story now, something Kor knew was not going to happen yet.
Kor’s face shifted to that of curiosity. He had not truly thought that Nactine would want to listen to his entire story in one day. “Oh,” Kor remarked thoughtlessly, “I guess you want the entire story don’t you? What I had in mind would just fill in the gaps with the history books. I will say NO MORE than that.”
When the words finally sunk in, for both parties, Kor winced. Nactine just stared back. An awkward silence filled the air. It waited and waited for either party to dispel its suffocating existence.
After what seemed like hours, Kor began to stumble over the words for an apology. “I… I… Please forgive my outburst, it’s just that I have been overexerted with the recent ordeal with Erebus.” Nactine, finally shaken out of his stupor, shook his head and accepted the apology.
Within a few seconds Nactine's eyes lit up. He had very little on the whole ordeal with Erebus, and less on Kor's involvement with him. It was a perfect topic to continue to pursue. He had come here for an interview on his involvement with the Battleon Guardians and he would only leave with more then what he started with.
“Looks like I’ve gone and backed myself into a corner it seems. Great, just great,” mused Kor as he noticed Nactine’s expression. Kor sighed, knowing what was about to be asked. “Please tell me about your war against Erebus, the great library lacks much information about Epsilon and his shadowy influence on multiple versions of lore. You are one of the only resources available to me at the moment, anything you are willing to tell me would be of great value to my fellow historians,” He begged. Just like Kor knew he would.
A smile crept up Kor’s face. He could probably skip over the well-known details and just head into the more interesting parts. “Alright,” He started, “Nactine, you win. My part in the fight against Erebus it is.” Nactine’s face lit up in to an expression that could only be described as excited apprehension.
Kor coughed quickly to clear his throat. “Well, where should I begin? You surely know everything that lead to the Falerin being disincoperated?”
Nactine nodded, “yes, I now all of that, what is missing is some of the events that occurred shortly before his naming. We have some but I would like to hear your side of it too.”
“Ah, that was quite a battle, being preoccupied and fighting off the mix-and-match army Erebus had made. I was glad we had the blessings of the Lords and some more “physical” help from them too. But for now lets just go with how I came up with Erebus’ name. The other parts can wait,” Kor stated. Leaning back in his chair, he began to that long and hard war. He closed his eyes and began to visualize it.


Commander Paladin and Kor walked over the large hill, back into the campgrounds. The entire time those last words from the Lord of Light still stung him. From the top Kor and Paladin could just barely see their ragtag army finishing their preparations. This would have been virtually impossible a few months ago, before Dhows had made himself everybody’s enemy.
The camp was filled with the forces commanded by Cennera and Donovan, Constantin and Safiria and Erimus, free willed undead, and the Paladin order. It was an army of beings who were bitter enemies, yet here they were fighting at each other’s sides. They had a good chance of destroying the shadow that had corrupted the Luminova region.
Suddenly, Paladin stopped, “Kor, you are going to fight in the front lines correct?” It seemed as if Paladin was now being driven by a once forgotten memory.
“Um… yeah I believe so. What is it? You know that it’s hard to read the emotions of a skull.” He asked, wondering what was rattling inside that literally empty skull of his. Kor hoped that he had not just remembered something involving Dhows. If it was it better have been a new name for him.
He began to laugh, a cold, rattling sound that only a pile of walking bones could produce. “Yes I know its hard to read my expression now,” He began, “and its good news because I have a gift for you from the lords and me.” Holding his arm out, hand open, his skull shifted to a look of complete focus. Within seconds, an ancient sword had manifested itself in Paladins hand.
The sword had a wide blade, decorated with hundreds of little pieces of glass making a beautiful mosaic. It hummed with an ancient and sacred power. Even though it looked as old as Paladin himself, it seemed like its power had not aged a day. Paladin held and blade out to Kor, “Take this blessed blade, given to me by my lady, the lady of light, meant to slay all who had fallen under the shadow of Dhows. The sacred sword Caliburn may be old but it is still a weapon to fear. All those created under through Dhows vile magic,” Paladin explained.
Kor knelt down, the clunky metal of his Armor of Awe clanging, waiting to accept the knighting and the blade. Tap, Tap. “Arise Kor and accept our gift to you.” With that Kor arose and held is had out, taking the surprisingly light Caliburn in his non-shield hand.
“Thank you, Commander Paladin, I will use this gift well,” Kor had repeated a similar phrase enough times to know it by heart now. They both turned to face the camp, their cloaks flapping in the wind. They continued down the path to the center of the war camp, to the camp run by the guardians.
The Guardian campground was a Dizzying array of guardians rushing to sharpen their weapons, say any last goodbyes to fellow members, and make sure their gear was all in order. It was an organized chaos. Kor, like everybody else in the order, had gotten used to it shortly after joining. The strategist’s tent stood in the center of the pavilion. As the duo neared the tent doors, two guardians stood watch.
When they arrived at the door, the guards moved out of the way. “Kor, Paladin,” stated one. “The other commanders are inside. They are so far peaceful, but you should hurry,” the other listed off. Within the tent was an aura of intensity that could only be rivaled by the battlefield. Heated gazes were shared as Kor and Paladin entered the room.
“This is going to be a long night,” Kor thought, only just realizing that it this was Darkovia. The night would probably never end here. Looking around the room, Kor noticed Nimrod standing over the war table, starring right through it. Cennera, Donovan, Erimus, Constantin, Safiria, Cagliari Lux, Artix, Warlic, and Falerin all were gathered around, sitting or standing, awaiting for those two to return.
Without even looking up Nimrod pointed to the two open seats. He only spoke after both of them had found their seats, “I assume we all know what we are up against here, correct?” Kor, Cennera, Donovan, Lux, Falerin, and Paladin nodded quickly. The others stood there, not knowing if they knew about all the aces up Dhows’ sleeve. It was enough to Nimrod that he decided to explain. “We know that Dhows has been hard at work using both Ardendor and Atlas to expand his small army of animals affected by his transmorphic devices, as well as some residents of the region. He may also have one of the flecks we had encountered in Xitra's realm.
With Falerin’s fragment, Dhows has created another small army of inverted beings,” He paused for a breath, “There have also been sightings of undead guardians among the normal rabble, but they seem to be from the alternate universe. Add to all of this, a few hundred agents of the Network working under Atlas, and we have ourselves an army that’s just as ragtag as ours.”
“If that is so… would there not be many internal disputes amongst themselves?” Asked Safiria, casually sipping a wine glass filled with blood, “Perhaps we could use that to our advantage. Slip in a few vampires and have them seen attacking the werewolves with Dhows from the direction of the betraying vampires camp, or vise versa. This way we get revenge on our betrayers and take out a few of our rivals in process.” As always the queen of the vampires was planning on using cunning and deceit to win the day.
Donovan shook his head, “That does not mean he would let such things go unaccounted for. He has been manipulating things for a long time. He may have them working together better than any of us could ever hope for. It may work or it may not, but division is not the best strategy for this fight.”
Falerin nodded in agreement, as did Cennera, Paladin and Kor. Dhows is a master of controlling divisions and his own would not be the source of his undoing, not yet anyway. Falerin spoke his plans as Safiria sighed in resignation. “We need to find Ardendor first and allow me to take his place at Dhows’ side, all other fights are irrelevant if Dhows is still lurking in his own shadow. Perhaps if we had the Guardians, the Nighthunters and the Shadowslayers attacked their front, the werewolves and the paladins attacked their left flank, the vampires and the undead on their right flank, and Cennera’s dracopyres and Donovan’s dracopyres and the werepyres from behind…” the loremaster paused to think to himself. Ardendor was a thorn in everybody’s side lately; even without access to most of his own power, Ardendor could easily start a god war.
Nimrod began arranging the war figures onto the map as Falerin listed off where each would be. As each leader looked over the battle plans, one could tell they liked it. “Is there something else, loremaster, that you would like to add?” Nimrod questioned as he placed the last piece onto the map. In a situation like this only a very chaotic battle could occur.
Falerin smirked. “Why not just give them all a special amulet, perhaps one in the shape of the guardian sword? It would be cheap and easy to produce, because we would only need it for the few hours we are in battle with Dhows, it would not need to be made flawlessly.” Once again everyone was in agreement with Falerin.
Nimrod called for a messenger to be brought and take the loremaster’s message to all the smiths nearby. It would take quite awhile to make all the necessary amulets and even more time to distribute them. Yet, it would be worth it to keep the chaos at a minimum.
With the plans nearly set Nimrod asked, “Does everyone know what to order their troops to do? We can’t afford to screw up, if we do Dhows, and Ardendor, and Atlas may escape our grasp for quite some time.” Each of them nodded as they left the pavilion. They knew full well that they had to win, and what would happen if they did not.
Back in his tent, Kor examined Caliburn. The blade did seem quite used and ancient, specks of rust covered it and it seemed a little dull. If what Paladin said were true then it would be an invaluable blade. He pulled out a whetstone from his pack and began running it along the length of the sword.
While he was zoned out a familiar presence landed next to his tent. Her overly long blue dress running along the dirt was what caught Kor's attention. Her hand reached into the tent, pushing the door flap out of her way. “I would have thought that you would have called me over to help you restore that sword,” joked Kor's fairy godmother. Ever since she had joined him, she has been a valuable ally. “I can help you remove some of the wear of time from that sword you know,” She waved her hand and released a small stream of magic in the direction of the blade. The rust began to disappear. Moments later, the blade looked as if a master smith had worked on restoring the blade to its former glory.
Kor examined the newly restored blade, noticing how the mosaic on it. It had a very church-like feel to it. A perfect irony for fighting Dhows. “So,” Kor started, “you plan on helping us in this fight this one?” He walked over to his table, picking up the helmet that he had taken from Awethur's hoard just like the rest of his armor.
She laughed. “You never said please! Or thank you for helping me!” Kor sighed knowing that he would never have gotten a straight answer.
He relented easier than he wanted to. “Okay, sorry for not thanking you for this,” Kor held the blade up, “and will you please fight alongside us, against Dhows? I would be most grateful if you did.” He hoped that would convince her to help. Her healing magic may have been weakened recently but it was still useful.
Once again, she laughed. “I never expected it to come out so easily, guess I've broken you a little bit faster then I expected. I feel that I would do my best over with the paladins. They simply refuse to give new members better defenses against darkness.”
Without the light of the sun, Kor had difficulty figuring out what time it was. He knew it was about time for him to rest. He and his fairy godmother headed to their beds, to prepare for the coming battle.


“Who was the Fairy god-mother? What connection did you have with her?” Nactine interrupted. Kor opened his eyes out of annoyance. Being interrupted was an easy way to get on his bad side.
A sigh escaped him. Shouldn't he know the answer to this already? “I would have thought someone with so much information would have figured it on his own.” That was all he was going to get.
Another sigh, this time Nactine's. He was a truly knowledge hungry person. Ignoring the insult, he was about to ask again. Before he could ask again Kor raised his hand up. “Talk to the hand and listen to the story. Next time you interrupt me, I'll through you down the stairs.”
He shut his eyes once again, leaning back. The words and the images came to him as if it were yesterday yet again.


With the final battle preparations being finished, Kor took the last few moments to inspect his equipment once again. It was all in as good a condition as he could manage. Only one issue came to mind. Should he leave Caliburn or The Blade of Awe behind? Caliburn would be useful, probably. The Blade of Awe he at least knew what to expect. He decided that it would be best to take Caliburn, after all it was given to him by Paladin and the Lords of Light and Darkness.
Outside the tent, the camp was in a chaotic rush to finish preparations. Messengers and Guardians all were running about with last minute changes to the planned set-up. Some messengers carried boxes with the amulets that Falerin had come up with. A messenger stopped him as he walked towards the battlefield. He asked, “Have one of these? Orders say everybody needs one. No getting out of it.” Kor took an amulet and sent the messenger off to some other guardian.
He made his way through the dizzying masses that made up the camp. As he got closer to the location he, and the other Guardians, would charge from, Kor could barely see Dhows’ army in the same rush as his own. It must have been a long night of work on both Ardendor’s and Maxwell’s part, the camp had seemingly increased.
As the activity in Dhows’ camp slowed, Kor’s allies moved into position. Waiting was the hardest part of war. Kor wanted to take on the whole world by himself, no matter how suicidal the whole idea seemed. Then the bliss that was the war horn’s music came to Kor’s ears. Another rush began, this time in a single direction.
Spells and arrows were the first to come at them. Many narrowly missed, a blessing that filled him with energy. The closer they got the worse the metallic and magical rain became.
The first wave of undead came into view. One leapt towards Kor. It’s blade scraped along his armor. Adrenaline took over. The world became a blur to him. All that mattered was cutting through to Ardendor, Maxwell or Dhows. Losing himself to the flow of battle, the world seemed to darken to nothing.
The darkness around him filled Kor with a sense of unease and dread. He could feel something approaching him. Kor spun around, only to find that none other than The Reaper. Paddling along a non-existent river, just like when Kor ends up dying. “AUGH… Come on! I didn’t just die! I just started!” Even though he knew that arguing with Death got nothing more than a delay, it was sometimes worth it.
As his boat drew closer, Kor realized that it was not The Reaper. Someone else had come to pay him a visit and decided to bring him to a very dark room. The stranger stopped the boat in front of Kor. “Believe what you want Lorian but I am not The Reaper you know. He is but a piece of me as I am but a piece of him.” Kor finally got a better look at the mysterious visitor as he stood in the boat, waiting.
Unlike The Reaper he knew this one had skin. Yet that very skin was just as pale as The Reaper’s bones. His eyes only made it harder to tell how different they were. The one thing that Kor could see that Death or his Reaper never had a beard.
The stranger stood there silent and impatient. Growing more and more visibly annoyed at his visitor’s starring, Kor decided it was time to find out just what he was. “What exactly are you?” He began, “Where are we? Why me? And what do you mean by you being a part of him but he is a part of you?” He wanted to get back to the war but this was all too intriguing to ignore.
The Reaper’s replacement starred back at Kor for several seconds. Then came the disturbing laughter. It was a happy siren’s scream, filling him with images of rainbows, butterflies, and ponies. When his fit finally settled down, Kor had been left on the verge of mental break down. As Kor recomposed himself the ferryman answered, “I am, uh… well, I am Charon, ferryman to the dead and this is a portion of a more prime ‘Nowhere’ than you know.” The last sentence caused Kor to sigh out of pure annoyance. He really did die it seemed to him.
Charon raised an eyebrow to that reaction. “Hrm… you, you don’t believe you are dead do you? This is but a mere illusion your Dhe Ehmn made for you. And that answer the third.” Charon’s face contorted to a pained and distracted shape. It was only seconds before his face returned to normal. “Alraight, lets get going. Your Dhe Ehmn is a very impatient one. Your fee has been paid by him as well, so climb aboard.” Even though Kor knew very little about this whole situation, he figured that he could at least defeat Charon in a fight if need be. Keep that in mind, Kor climb aboard the ferryman’s boat.
Charon paddled them through the all-consuming darkness. Minutes passed by in silence that wonder made. The suspense built up in Kor finally forcing him to ask, “Where are we going? If this is supposed to bring me an epiphany than it’s not working very well.” It seemed to cliché for it to be anything less than an epiphany-inducing vision.
Silence still followed his words. Charon was definitely less talkative than The Reaper. The longer this went on the more annoyed both parties became, neither of them were here by choice.
The rhythm of the paddling had become so monotonous for Kor that he never noticed they had stopped. “Almost to the first born of Chaos…” He brought Kor back from the comfy quarters of his own mind. “This is what the Dhe Ehmn wishes you to see. The gate from which the dead cross to me, and to the realm of the dead.” Still unable to see much beyond the boat, Kor looked back at the ferryman confused.
Charon brought the boat to shore, and took out a lantern. Its green flames illuminated the black abyss. It created more than enough light for him to see anything beyond the boat. Many people were all gathered around the dock, all of them became restless as they moved closer to the dock. Beyond them, a strange doorway like piece of pure darkness arching over the entrance. “He is one of the eldest of all beings. Chaos came before, and gave birth to the darkness you see.”
He had Kor even more confused as he explained what “his” Dhe Ehmn wanted him see. The arch could not possibly been anything beyond what he could see. It never moved, never spoke, or anything a living thing would do, in the few minutes he stood waiting. Kor got out of the boat to get a better look, and this signaled to the restless spirits it was time to get on the death boat.
He turned around to ask Charon yet another question, but the ferryman had left with the dozens of spirits. The only sign of his presence left was the lantern with green flames. Alone at the gates of death, it seemed like another cliché. The noise of stones running along each other forced Kor to turn, drawing Caliburn in the process. Before him stood a man, pale as pale could be, hair so dark it might as well have been an empty void, and a toga of a very similar color. The arch had disappeared for this new visitor.
The oddly dressed man kept on walking closer, even though Kor had pulled out a sword and he seemingly lacked a weapon at all. “You can put that thing away now. It just as useful as splashing water on me here.” He smiled as spoke, completely confident in his words. Even with the reassurance of it being a futile effort, Kor did not let his guard down as he approached. The smile of the stranger left only to be replaced with an annoyed frown. “Simmer down, I’m not going to hurt you… Your Dhe Ehmn and I both agreed it wasn’t in our favor to see a little hair on your head receive any harm.”
“This guy too? What is this Dhe Ehmn? Why me? For what reason? Why, why, why, why?” Thought Kor as all the unanswered questions finally got to him. “Ok, so then lets just get this over with and tell me why I am here?”
“What, and ruin all the suspense he worked hard to create? Without even exchanging names? After all that’s what he asked me for.” The sarcastic way he spoke made it hard to tell how serious he was being. Kor may have needed a name for Dhows but what did this guy have to do with any of it? No matter what it seemed this cruel god above gods intended to keep him here until he did exchange names with this shadowy figure.
Kor sensed that he would be forced to go first in this situation. He took the bait before it was even set out in the open. “My name is Kor. There you have my name, now tell me yours and lets get this over with.” A rather toothy grin crossed the face of the enigmatic man. Kor sighed, realizing he might have been a little to savvy for his own good.
“I was expecting to go first…” He dropped the murderous smile. “You are lucky I am in such a good mood. Anyway… My name is Erebus, the ancient darkness, from which all is able to hide behind. Well that’s all of my lines, time for a little birdie to go bye-bye.” The analogy caught Kor off guard; sounding almost something Dhows would have said.
Kor was about ready to attack this “Erebus,” it could very well have been some kind of trick. “Erebus, why would you use that analogy? Is Erebus even your real name?” His growing distrust began to make him jump to conclusions. “Perhaps Dhows is trying to stall? Yeah, that’s probably right, afraid I might name him something that fits well on him.”
Erebus seemed genuinely confused by the accusations facing him. As Kor’s grip tightened around Caliburn, he asked, “Does birdie mean something horrible in your reality, Kor? The Dhe Ehmn told me I had to use it to make more clear, although I can’t tell how well its taken root in your small mortal mind.” He tapped his head with his finger several times. The tone and actions were beginning to get to both of them it seemed.
Before Kor could even process his words, the flames inside the lantern flickered. Both of them had a faint feeling of what it truly meant. The sound of water being forced out of the way came shortly after. The boat floated into dock, and Charon took the lantern. “Am I interrupting?” He eyed both of them suspiciously, as if he could feel the tension emanating from Kor. “Your Dhe Ehmn says it is time to leave. And to return to your own conscience.” Erebus began to giggle, and Charon blew out the green flames of the lantern. Everything returned to the dark he first found himself in.
His eyes forced themselves open. He found himself back in Darkovia, surrounded by ashes, fur, metal, and bones. Back where he belonged. He rushed back into the fight.
Kor wondered how real that weird vision was. Caliburn’s holy flames tore through an alpha werewolf. He than noticed how dreamlike it was, yet he was evidently was still “awake” through the entire dream. He jumped out of the way of a skeletal guardian rouge’s spear at the last second, and with it a burst of healing magic. Then there was the whole “exchanging names” that Erebus wanted, Kor wondered if it was because Yulgar had brought him his newest creation, Twig’s fish and ice cream flavored ice cream, earlier. He finished off the alternate universe guardian off, turning him to a pile of bones.
He was nearing the center of the fighting; Dhows must be waiting there. First, though, Ardendor and Maxwell should be taken care of. Surveying the chaos, Kor could see very little beyond the center. He began to franticly search for any sign of Ardendor. He needed to find him before he went after Dhows. BOOOOM! Kor turned. He could see a man in a grayish-red suit blasting spells into the crowd. “Found him,” that thought forced his body to move as fast as it could. He knew that he had to, for Falerin’s sake and his enjoyment. It would be a sweet revenge to beat up that piece of Fal.


“… And that is everything up to encountering Falerin.” Kor opened his eyes now, finally finished with what he said he would tell to Nactine. He was glad that this was almost over. “That is where I came up with the name, seems slightly unrealistic now that you think about,” He laughed at the thought.
Nactine finished writing his notes. The mass of scribbles had taken over a little more than seven pages. He let the pages dry a little before he began looking them over. “Do you have any sort of idea as to what might have created your ‘dream’? Or what a Dhe Ehmn is? This entity sounds like it would be an interesting study,” stated the overzealous historian. When the papers finally dried he began to store them for future publication.
Kor shrugged; even if he knew the answers he was not in the mood to share them. “Who knows? The Lords would be more upfront about it, Falerin wouldn’t have told me anyway, same for Elderon, The’Galin and Lorithia were elsewhere. It could have just been some bad food I ate before the battle or luck maybe. Anyway you got what I felt like giving you today, so are we done yet?”
Nactine smirked, “Today? You mean you will feel like telling more tomorrow? Okay, then I will come back for more!” He got up and left before Kor could counter his plan.
“Did I just back myself further into the same corner for a third time? Augh, why does this only happen to me?” Kor nearly left a dent in his desk with that revelation. It seemed Nactine would be back for more tomorrow and there was nothing he could do about it.

< Message edited by kors -- 6/25/2012 1:41:26 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 23
6/25/2012 20:15:36   
ND Mallet
Legendary AK!!!

AQ Character Name: The Guy
AQ ID #: 23468830
Name of Story: Getting Into the Spirit of Things

I have no name for myself. People just call me The Guy. I am a Warrior with enough gear and equipment to level half of Battleon. I've saved Lore countless times. If I had a gold piece every time I saved Lore then I could forge the entire Golden Plate from the melted gold. But today, today I must cast aside my weapons and reach for the Ultimate Weapon. The one weapon alone that is capable of hurting the world's next foe. It is not our lives that are at stake here. No, it is far more important than that. If we lose this war then all creativity is left to perish. They are the Truphma. I have witnessed first-hand the destruction they cause. It is not destruction in the physical sense. It is destruction of a more personal sense. They are targeting our creativity and only our imagination can harm them. So for now, my weapon of choice is the Mighty Pen. My shield, the Inkwell. Together, they form the key to saving Lore from monotony. Let us begin our journey of creativity with an untold story of mine. A tale that isn't about questing for mighty items or fighting mythical beasts along the way. A quest that helped out someone who needed me most.

It all started one fateful evening, an evening unlike every other. I was sitting outside my house, lounging in my hammock and looking up at the stars in the twilight sky. I personally love stargazing most when the sun is just beginning to set. There was a faint breeze that rustled the leaves of the trees and mussed up my hair. Well, mussed it up as much as it can be in its current state. The crickets were chirping their lovely songs and I was at peace. They weren't the overly large insect variety I'm accustomed to fighting all the time. It was the oddest night of my life because I could rest without anything wanting to kill me. It's been too long.

My eyes started getting heavier and my breathing started slowing. I was drifting through a trance-like state. Awake, but not quite. The combined evening noises all mashed together into one gigantic hypnotic lull. But out of that calm came a noise. A noise of approaching footsteps. Human, or at least bipedal. I sat upright in an instant and noticed a woman of about twenty-eight, maybe thirty. She stood with a slight slouch, her long auburn hair covering part of her face. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she were observing me and sizing me up. I sat quietly, waiting for a reply to my implied question of "What do you need?" But nothing came.

"What do you need?" I inquired while stifling a yawn.

Again the same silence and it persisted until I opened my mouth to ask if she was alright when she cleared her throat and whispered a request.

"Come again?"

She spoke up a little and I strained to hear her although it was clearly audible now.

"I know you're an adventurer and probably have better stuff to do but I must have a babysitter to watch over my boy" she said in an almost pleading voice. I swore I could also hear a hint of embarrassment over the request.

"Well, you're right about the adventurer part, wrong about the stuff to do and I don't think I could make a very good babysitter anyways. Unless, of course, your son is a baby dragon or other dangerous creature that needs handling" I replied off-handedly, not thinking about how she might take offense. "I think it might be best if you found someone else.”

“You are The Guy, are you not?”

“I am,” I replied, “But last I checked I was never listed as a babysitter of any kind,” I said as I turned around to head back for my hammock.

“Yes, well…You see, my son is a really big fan of yours. He tells me all the time about your adventures. And his birthday is coming up soon so I thought it would be a nice gift if I could get you to just come over and spend some time with him. Nothing big, just play with him and his toys, tell some stories, and maybe show him some of your gear,” she said.

I stopped.

“Well…I guess I could stay for a little bit for the little guy. I mean, it’s not every night I get to spend an evening by myself without having a monster to fight” I replied. “Besides-“

Suddenly darkness came over me.

I woke, finding myself in a small house. The woman was standing above me.

“I’m so sorry! I had already thrown the rock when you said you were going to come. I tied you up and kidnapped you because I thought you would be mad at me and forget all about my son. Oh man, I’m just making things worse,” she cried out.

“Trust me ma’am. I’ve had much worse head injuries. Can’t say I’m not upset though at this,” I replied coolly.

“Thank goodness!”

“You wouldn’t mind untying me now would you?” I asked patiently.

She scurried over and quickly untied me. I sat up slowly, feeling the stiffness in my limbs slowly recede after being forced into a single position for too long.

“ Lil’ Jimmy! Your babysitter is here!” she bellowed.

I sat there, staring in surprise at the woman who, only moments before, I could hardly hear speak, yell in such an ear-drum shattering tone.

“Moooommmmm! I’m seven years old! I don’t needa babysitter!” I heard a shrill voice cry out from down the hall.

“Get out here right now mister! Both him and I went through a lot of trouble because of you!” she yelled back, somehow even louder than before.

What did I get myself into, I started to wonder to myself when I heard the patter of a small child’s footsteps walking down the hallway. When he stepped into view I noticed he was awfully short for his age. He had his mother’s face but his posture was erect and ready to strike. An Adventurer in the making it seems. When he noticed me he instantly stopped.

“It’s him! It’s him it’s him it’s him! He’s my babysitter!? Oh, thank you thank you thank you so much mom!” he yelled ecstatically, jumping up down the whole while.

I really made his day. I guess this isn’t such a bad idea after all. I just have to play with him until he gets tired and falls asleep anyways, I told myself. Nothing too hard really.

“Aha, it seems you really are as big a fan of me as your mom claims you are” I stated heroically. “And tonight, tonight I am your babysitter! I took the night off from adventuring just to play with you, young man!”

The look on his face was that of pure excitement and joy. His jaw had dropped and I could tell the only thing he could possibly say at that moment would resemble a content gargling.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Lil’ Jimmy has all his toys in his room. If you need to make anything there’s left over Frogzard legs, Lil’ Jimmy can heat them up if you don’t know how” she said to me. “Oh and there’s one more thing” she stated, pulling me closer to her. “Be careful, Lil’ Jimmy tends to play rough. You might need to keep your armor on.”

And just like that she was out the door, faster than I had time to wonder just how much a boy could do to a person with his toys. I turned to look at Lil’ Jimmy but found him quickly escaping down the hall to his room.

“Wait here while I get my toys” he yelled back at me.

So I sat down on the nearest stool and I waited. And I waited. And I continued to wait. The seconds dragged on to minutes, and those minutes seemed to turn into hours. I kept waiting and waiting until I realized there was a strange noise coming from his room. A noise that sounded much like a busy day at Adder’s Forge. I crept slowly back there, weapon drawn for I had a bad feeling about that noise. The hallway seemed to stretch into infinity, each step taking longer and longer than the one before it. I reached for the door handle when suddenly it burst open. I leapt back and braced myself for whatever the threat was. To my surprise, a great wave of drones streamed from the door, each carrying their deadly candy canes. They had me in their sights and flew at me, canes positioned for a beat-down. I rolled out of the way and came up in battle position. They kept coming at me. I leapt at them, dodging between the cane swings, slashing this way and that. Moments later the drones fell to the ground and I felt the bruise that was starting to form in my arm.

I started turning back towards the door when suddenly I was brought to the ground by my next attacker. He had me in a tight hold and all I could do was toss and turn. I struggled to my feet and immediately threw myself up against the nearest wall. The staggered attacker let go and I spun around to face the Blockman. He regained his bearings quickly but I had already began my rush. He stepped back in surprise and I brought the hilt of my sword to his head, instantly knocking him out. The defeated Blockman was immediately replaced by two more Blockmen, both bigger and stronger than their unconscious comrade, not to mention armed with deadly Block hammers.

Wait a minute…these “toys” of his are all Frostval gifts from years past, I thought to myself as I blocked their strikes with my shield. But how on earth did a boy get Adventurer giftboxes?

The answer suddenly dawned on me.

“Hail and well met, Adventurer The Guy,” called the tall, brawny man.

“Hail and well met, fellow Adventurer Lil’ Jimmy,” I replied. “You still getting children’s toys each Frostval” I asked teasingly.

“Unfortunately yes, maybe it’s a sign that I’m not supposed to be an Adventurer. Maybe I should settle down and raise a family,” he wondered aloud.

I brought myself back into reality. No use worrying about the past. My main concern now would be not having my skull caved in by these Blockmen.

They were slowly advancing on me. I backed up, waiting for an opening to take out at least one of them. I felt the wood behind me and knew my time was near. I tried one last desperate move. I tossed aside my shield and leapt right between both Blockmen as their brought their hammers down at me. I made it through unscathed.

I rolled back up onto my feet and saw that the Blockmen had taken each other out with their swings.

Not exactly what I had expected would happen but beggars can’t be choosers.

I ran back to my shield, picked it up and faced towards the door again.

Instead of a single enemy this time I saw the hallway fill up with all sorts of Frostval wonders. Coal armor golems, Blockmen by the dozen, an entire squadron of drones, ebil toys of every sort, and enough light gnomes to fill Yulgar’s Inn. Each one armed to their teeth with Bee Bee guns, Block Hammers, Fruitcake Mauls, Skyscorchers and some weapons I cannot recall at this moment.

I swallowed nervously and wondered if I could make it through all this alive.

And to think I expected a night off and a chance to relax.

I got into position and braced myself for possibly one of the hardest fights in my life. My muscles tensed around my sword and shield. They rushed at me, and I rushed at them.

It seemed to be over in seconds. Little bits of blocks and coal littered the entire hallway, weapons were strewn this way and that, drones were missing propellers and covered in sticky, sweet candy cane mess.

The sweat was pouring off of me. I fell on my butt and decided to at least rest up while I could. I was sore all over; I could feel bruises and welts all over my body. I was just about ready to get back to my feet when it dawned on me. But by then it was too late.

Through the door stepped a mechanical figure, a fully metallic Full Metal Santa. He was over me in an instant. I felt his hand grasped tightly around my throat.

“You! You are the one responsible for this senseless destruction of toys” he seemed to buzz out. “Master Jimmy’s toys are as valuable as he is, and harm shall fall on neither when I am around!”

He threw me hard against the wall down the hallway. He readied his almighty Holiday Colossus and charged.

I gasped for air, the impact knocking all of it out of me. I braced my shield arm and took the blow head on. The force of the attack left my imprint on the wall behind me. I fell to my knees, refusing to give up completely. The suit had a weakness. Yulgar was talking with me about it just the other day. If I could remember then perhaps I would live through this.

I staggered back up to my feet. I knew that if I took another hit like that then it would be candles out for me. I rolled quickly to the side, dodging the Colossus by a mere hair’s length.

His recovery time from the missed swing was tremendous but unfortunately my recovery time from the fighting was much longer.

All I can hope for is to keep my head and remember the weakness.

The dodging and swinging process kept repeating, each time the swings taking longer and longer.

That’s it! I remember now! The stress put on the joints from the movement and weight of the swings causes a very high risk for breaking, not to mention great fatigue, or in this case, power usage. I just need to dodge one more time and I should have him.

The usual swing came but when I went to roll out of the way I felt a great coldness come over my body.

I forgot all about that Ice Beam of his! No!

I struggled and fought against my icy prison. I saw him bring the Colossus back up above his head. Desperation was inside me now. I struggled and strained every muscle in my body against the ice. I watched him slowly approach me. I knew he couldn’t last for much more, but this will be the end for me if I don’t get out.

I kept at it and I started hearing the sound of ice cracking. I fought as hard as I can, busting free with enough time to get ready for another roll.

This time though, I rolled right between his legs, hoping to confuse and avoid another Ice Beam. His swing missed and no Ice Beam was fired. I brought my sword down with all my might against his legs. The sound of metal clanging against metal filled the house. A large amount of sparks flew at me from the wires inside the severed legs. He immediately powered down and I once again fell to the ground.

After a few minutes of resting I got up and headed towards Lil’ Jimmy’s room. Nothing popped out this time when I went for the door. Inside I saw him, sitting at a table. When I drew closer I could see he had a bunch of parts from all the toys and was sowing them together into one giant patchwork Frostval Gift. I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me.

“You’re done playing already? But I haven’t even finished with my new toy for you,” he stated with glee. “It’s going to be the best toy of all time!”

“Look, Lil’ Jimmy. I admire your creativity and your enthusiasm for magic and smithing and all the other talents you’ve displayed. But we need to have a talk. Adventurer to Adventurer…in training,” I stated firmly.

“You have a great gift and I admit you are quite the worthy adversary. But an Adventurer doesn’t use his skills to hurt people or just because they’re fun. Your toys are no laughing matter. They are quite dangerous and can hurt people if you’re not careful. They were never meant to be given to someone your age,” I continued on, noting his sadness. “You can still keep them, but I want you to understand that it’s very important you only use your toys to protect those in trouble, and not to use them as amusement. Understand?”

He nodded. He sniffled a little bit and wiped at his eyes.

“You’re going to make a great Adventurer one day but you still have a lot to learn, and some growing to do as well.”

“You really think so?” he asked enthusiastically.

“I know so. So, what do you say we make some of those Frogzard legs, relax a little and then I’ll tell you some of my Adventurer tales. I have one in mind already, one about how a winch stole Frostval. Just because I know you love your Frostval toys so much.”

“Yay! But wait, what about all my toys? They’re all broke now,” he stated with much melancholy.

“I’ll bring them to Yulgar and see what he can’t do. If worst comes to worst then I’ll go up to Frostvale and have one of the moglins up there fix them,” I stated gently.

“Okay, and maybe someday you can bring me with on an adventure,” he said.

“When you’re older,” I replied, “But first we should get some dinner so you can grow big and strong.”

He ran down the hallway and into the kitchen. I stayed behind, looking at his work. So much creativity inside one little boy.

I just hope that creativity stays pure, untainted and free from all uses of evil. Or ebil. I think Zorbak would enjoy making something like this.

I walked to the door and closed the door behind me. Tonight is one night I will never forget, for I helped the creativity of a young child start down the path of good.


< Message edited by The ND Mallet Guy -- 6/27/2012 19:44:02 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 24
6/26/2012 22:25:25   

AQ Character Name: Lethifold
AQ Character ID: 10084292
Name of your story: The Heart of Fire

Notes: This story occurs long before the events in the game take place. All listed characters except for Fiamme and the Trinity are human. Fiamme is the only NPC that has been in any previous AE game.

Origins of Lore (Prologue to the Prologue)

Long ago, the world was full of primordial magic, fundamental essences that flowed and ebbed like the tides of Lore, controlling the stability of the world. All magic swirled in endless oceans until one fateful day; all the channels of primordial magic flowed and poured into one single point, forming the Creator.

All alone, the Creator endured through many millennia watching the channels of magic swirl around him. But soon, the Creator became bored of the world around him. Directing the flows of primordial magic, the Creator spun and wove intricate spells, the like of which would kill any mortal creature. Incantations followed by runes, insignias followed by spell weaving, the eight primal elements came into existence as the Creator used the last of his power and split into the eight primal elemental lords.

Each lord resided and watched over its respective primal element as the first creatures of lore evolved from the primal magics and came into existence. But like their previous identity, the elemental lords tired of watching their subjects carry out meaningless daily tasks.

Thus, the creation of the magic we know today began. The elemental lords transmuted the primordial essences of their bodies into elemental treasures that housed the origins of the elements. Each contained the basic magics, useable by the races of Lore.

Though this transformation came at dire costs. As the primordial energies transformed, strands of magic separated flowed askew and created an anomaly of magic.

An anomaly to be known as the Void.


We never really new how it began. At first, it was just here or there. Small pieces of the Void regularly appeared all throughout Lore, sucking away part of the land or a piece of the sky. Magicians from the House of Magic would come, patch the void in reality up and life would continue on as usual. But suddenly, the occurrences became much more frequent. Singularities would open up anywhere and everywhere, drawing in whatever happened to be in the location. People went missing. Important treasures went missing. The King of Magna first disappeared. Then Queen Ashe of the Northern Isles was the next to go. War ensued between the realms of fire and ice who thought the other killed their leaders.

One by one, each elemental realm lost important items. Ancient magical bloodlines and irreplaceable magical artifacts disappeared and we realized only too late that we were puppets in a play directed by the Trinity of the Void.

- Reihirim Antiqua

“What do you expect me to do?” asked Lazulis, general of the realm of fire.

“Xenathus has already broken through one of our Elysian Fortresses on the Scorched Valley. It’s only a matter of time until his Void army takes over the rest of the realm,” stated the general, staring at Glaceus, self-proclaimed High Strategist of the Northern Isles. Staring back with eyes colder than the Northern Isles themselves, Glaceus questioningly remarked back at the equally cold general.

“The Elysian Fortress was built specifically to withstand the Void was it not? The moving fortress was fitted with ether weapons is it not? We supplied you with enough ether crystals to run the anti-Void artillery yet you still let them break through the first line of defense.”

“You could not have repelled the attack yourself! Might I remind you that just yesterday, Xanxibus’s forces claimed the Makna Isle for themselves after winning against an army led by you, the self-proclaimed strategist of the Northern Isles?” replied Lazulis in a voice that could have erupted the great Magnus volcano.

Sigh. I let out too audible of a sigh and several pairs of eyes turn towards me. As Elemental Ambassador, I’m not really doing too well of a job overseeing the supposedly peaceful war meeting. For the first time since Lore was created, leaders from the eight elemental realms have sat down in the same room without exploding the room and blasting each other to bits with unnecessarily well aimed magical blasts. Though it seems all too soon that our chamber will become a pile of rubble.
Looking fired up, Lazulis ignited in argument with Glaceus.

“It is not as if you could have stopped Xenathus! While I was on the field watching my comrades die you were sitting in a room, leading your forces in a losing battle!”

“How dare you! Might I remind you that it was I who drove Xenathus away from your capital when she first arrived?”

“Well it doesn’t look like you did a very good job considering he just came back!”

“Magnus scum. A baby icezard could quench your flames at a day old!”

“Stop! We’re in the middle of a war and we can’t fight among ourselves! I have already ordered the Imperial City of the Wind to send another shipment of ether crystals to your other Elysian Fortress, Lazulis. I really hope that this shipment can help you keep the rest of the realm of fire away from Xenathus’ forces.”

There goes Kiyome again. The young empress of Soriranashi-Sonikan. Unprofessional at times, yes, but an excellent diplomat. Most people think it’s because of her hair that flows in the wind and voice that can calm any raging tempest. Even I wh –

“We need to centralize the remaining Elysian Fortresses in the imperial city. The city has ample defenses and elevation against the enemies and the as the city is in the center of Lore, all realms have easy access to it,” said Kiyome, interrupting my thoughts.

“Why?” asked Glaceus, cooling down from his argument. “There are only four Elysian Fortresses left. Even if we were to centralize them in the city, Xenathus can easily channel his void energies through the fortress he captured from Lazulis.”

“No, this is the smartest thing we’ve heard out of anyone’s mouth so far. Lazulis. Glaceus. Settle your differences. It is not a good omen that the youngest of our council is currently the most sensible.”

Now there goes Inazuma, the old king of the realm of energy.

“Our laboratories collaborating with the Drakels have found a way to convert elemental magic back into ether. Combined with the Elysian Fortresses, we should be able to fire ether beams capable of cutting through –”

Bzzt! Bzzt!

“Sir, sir! Lord Arganon! Bzzt!” The emergency communications intercom from the underground earth city started, broadcasting current war events across the realms.

“Bzzt! Sir, the Void! Xemnar’s army! They somehow breached out containment system and have shattered the Crystal Aegis!”

“What!” All the leaders in the room immediately sprung up at the drastic turn of events. Lore’s primary defense system, the elemental treasure of earth, was destroyed by the commander of the Void! Our nexus of defense was destroyed, leaving the elemental realms and their citizens helpless against the oncoming onslaught of the Void. But everyone’s thoughts were suddenly cut off with another unexpected message.

“Bzzt! Glaceus…… we are sorry…… Xanxibus…… he…. broken though…. Bzzt! Arcana Isle….. Bzzt! The Stiletto of Ice…. Bzzt! Brok…… Bzzt!”

The intercom broke up, leaving the room in a state of shock. Two of the ancient elemental treasures had somehow fallen into the hands of the Void. Silence and shock penetrated the air in the room until Glaceus came back to his senses.

“Send orders for the evacuation of the realms into the Elysian Fortresses and mobilize them in the imperial city now! All the elemental leaders in the room flashed out in an instance leaving me alone in the room. How slow I am...

Not knowing where to go, I rushed to the nearest ley line intersection to quickly travel to Magnus to help the evacuation into the remaining Elysian Fortress not captured by Xenathus. I entered the swirling magical essences expecting the usually smooth and quick travel to go normally but the extent of the Voids corruption grew clear. The ether streams were intertwined with dissonant streams of violent magic, exploding at regular intervals. Void erupting from the streams would be sure to instantly destroy me if any were to touch me.

Boom! The ley line imploded on itself and I was sent tumbling out onto the fiery plains of the realm of fire. Well, I thought to myself, the regular ley line normally would’ve sent me to a location away from the position of the Elysian Fortress but the destruction of the ley line actually turned out to be my benefit as I rolled into the base of the Elysian Fortress.

Ground next to me started dissolving. Ground next to me started dissolving! Floods of people swarmed into the Elysian Fortress, trying to evade the bits of Void raining down from the darkened sky. As I run inside, particles of the Void bounced off the Elysian Fortress, weakening its protective barriers.

“Everyone to the viewing platform,” shouted Lazulis over the intercom system. “we are lifting off!

Bam! Right as we start to lift off, a huge meteoric sized chunk of the void landed right where we were moments earlier. But thankfully, our Elysian Fortress was already well enough out of the way of the flying debris.

“Reihirim!” Lazulis finally spotted me on the standing viewing platform. “Get your butt up here now! We have urgent matters to discuss.”

Walking up the magical stairs that materialized in front of the crowd of people, everyone started looking at me, making my face as red as the plains below us.

In a grave voice, the fiery general seemed to have had his fire put out as he spoke to me.

“I have received word from the other three Elysian Fortresses. All three have safely made it to Soriranashi-Sonikan with the survivors they managed to pick up but all of the remaining elemental treasures have either been stolen or destroyed. Only the Heart of Fire in this fortress is left. The imperial city only has its natural defenses left but the Void is quickly approaching.”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded. The other elemental treasures were supposed to have been kept in the safest places possible away from the battlefield. “How is this possible?”
In the same grave voice, Lazulis responded.

“The three Void commanders have found how to use the Void to create rips in time and space, enabling them to travel to any location instantly provided the locations is not protected by ether. All of the elemental realms except for the realm of wind have already fallen. Fortunately, the Heart of Fire was placed in this Elysian Fortress before the fighting. Do you understand what this means, Reihirim? We are the last hope for the survival of lore. It is imperative that we reach Soriranashi-Sonikan!”

Nodding up and down, I unceremoniously replied yes.

“How much longer until we reach the imperial city?” Staring out the viewing platform’s window, Lazulis gave a rough approximation.

“I have ordered my commanding soldiers to pour all their magic energy into the ether turbines of the fortress. If all goes well, we should reach the imperial city in –”
Lazulis stopped talking right as the lights went out. Suddenly, the floor underneath us dropped and the citizens of the fire realm began screaming.

“Lazulis, we are losing altitude,” I yelled at him above the screaming of the crowds. “Look outside, we are headed straight for a Void portal!”

“Damn the Trinity of the Void. I knew we were traveling a little too smoothly. I didn’t think it was all part of the Void generals’ plans.”

“What do we do? There’s probably 30 seconds left until we fall into the portal!”

“I must try to save the Elysian Fortress. These are my people here about to fall prey to the Void. A captain never abandons his ship. But you, Reihirim, you are the Elemental Ambassador! You were responsible for keeping peace between the elemental realms. Now you are responsible for bring peace to Lore!”

As the Elysian Fortress continued to fall, Lazulis started glowing like a hot ember in the darkest night. Illuminating the darkness, the general became a beacon of light as he poured all of his magic into saving the plummeting fortress.

“Reihirim. This is the last order I give to you as the general of the land of fire. As General of Magnus, I order you, Reihirim, to restore peace on Lore as the Elemental Ambassador!”

Using the last of his power, Lazulis invoked his inner magic of fire, consuming himself in a pillar of incendiary fire and placing in my hands the Heart of Fire, an almost living treasure that beats as if the fire inside it is alive.
With the last of Lazulis’s invocations, I was teleported to Soriranashi-Sonikan. But when I arrived, the city was not as it should have been. Gone were the towering wind spires, gone were the ornamental buildings. I was standing in empty space. I was standing in a plane of the Void.

“Well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

“How convenient, bringing the Heart of Fire to us without having to break a sweat.”

Two mysterious voices began speaking out of nowhere.

“What? Who is speaking?” I ask.

“Patience now, my prey.”

In an instant, a two sleek figures robed in purple walked up right next to me out of thin air.

“Xanxibus. Xenathus.” I gasped out in fear of being uncreated by the void energies swirling around me. Xenathus pulled out her knife, sliding it provocatively along my throat and started to speak in a seductive voice.

“So young, so foolish. Did you honestly think we would allow you easy access into your last dying hope of a city?” Xanxibus was the next to interject.

“No matter anymore. You have been caught in our hands. With the disposal of the treasure you so dearly hold in your hands, Lore will be uncreated and all will be one with the Void!”

“It is done,” said an almighty voice. “The trinity is complete.”

And in seconds, the fate of Lore appeared in front of my eyes. Walking out from materialized stairs, Xemnar joined in on our festivities and the trinity walked into single point. In a flash of purple light that would have uncreated me if I had not looked away, a new omnipotent figure appeared. Three voices overlapping in one spoke in a unified form.

“We are the trinity. We are Xalter, the Hand of the Void. We are left over creation formed when the elemental lords created your precious treasures. We are the reckoners of your world!”

“No,” I replied. “No. This world is so much more. The races of Lore are able to question reality, improving it through progression. You of the Void are here only to digress. You do not wish to uncreate Lore and forever make the Void supreme. Your true wish to assimilate with us. To bring out reality into yours!”

“Insolent fool! The Heart of Fire is as good as ours!”Casting incantations, Xalter began firing all he had against me in the form of void magic. With nothing left to protect myself and the Heart of Fire with, I dived to the left, narrowly dodging a stream of void energy. Since my end would likely come soon, taunting Xalter seemed to be my last chance at having some fun.

“Ha! Is that the best you can do?” Not slowing down in his spellcasting, the Hand of the Void continued to fire bolts of magic angrily at me from my provocation. One by one, magic bolts flew by me, all missing by variable distances. Thinking myself safe, I slowed down in my dodging and taunted Xalter further.

“Silly little child.” said a sickly sweet voice that could only belong to Xenathus.

“Have you not noticed the entrails growing at your feet? No matter. You are now caught. Cease your dancing around this plane of the void!”

No, I thought in my carelessness. The only hope of the survivors remaining on Lore in Soriranishi-Sonikan is about to be captured by Xalter!

“Give us the Heart of Fire. The Creation Gate will be unlocked with the destruction of this final elemental treasure!”

“Creation Gate? What are you talking about?” Ceasing his spellcasting, Xalter tightened my bonds and walked in front of me. Lifting my chin and staring straight at me with cold purple eyes, the Hand of the Void began to speak.

“You mortals are such fools. Did you think the elemental treasures were just artifacts with magic powers attached to them? They are of far more importance than you could have ever imagined. They are anchors. Anchors that attach Lore to reality and prevent your precious little world from drifting into the void. “

“Then what is the Creation Gate?”

“Fool! The Creation Gate is the border between reality and the Void. When the gate is unlocked, Lore will no longer be attached to reality and will begin to drift towards the Void. Enough. I wish not to spare more words on one who will quickly be Uncreated. The Heart of Fire is now ours. The final piece has fallen in place!”

“No!” Tentacles of Void energy appeared in front of me and grabbed the Heart of Fire straight out of my hands. Enveloping the treasure in void energies, Xalter crushed the last hope of Lore right in front of my eyes. Yet, yet, nothing happened. Xalter continued to stand with the broken treasure in front of him. Amazingly, he actually had a puzzled look on his countenance.

In between us, the shards of the Heart of Fire began to glow. Began glowing in an intense, polychromic light that filled the purple void with color. Xalter, startled at the transformation, started casting void magic left and right in hopes of stopping whatever was happening.

“You! What have you done with the Heart of Fire?”

As if Reihirim would know, Xalter.

“That voice. No, it is not possible. You all sealed yourselves away in stasis upon creating the elemental treasures! My power is still far superior to yours in your dormant state!” With an incredulous yet spiteful look on his face, Xalter once again began casting a spell. One far more intricate than the one he used to lure me into his trap.

Give it up Xalter. We know the extent of your powers. They are no match for the Creator’s.

“Who or what are you?” I asked into the unknown. The entity still appeared to be communicating through our minds.

“Ha! That is no concern of yours. With this spell, all Lore shall be consumed by the Void!”

Unstable energies poured out of Xalter’s hands and lashed out at the glowing shards of the Heart of Fire. One by one Void energies consumed the shards, uncreating the glowing pieces of the treasure. Yet after the shards disappeared, a seemingly unharmed Heart of Fire materialized right in front of our eyes.

I am Fiamme, Reihirim. Aspect of Flames. Courier of Embers. Elemental Lord of Fire.

“No! The Creation Gate will still be unlocked!” Verging on the point of madness, Xalter screamed at a burning entity that appeared right next to the Heart of Fire.

We knew this day would come when you, the byproduct of Creation would attempt to invade Lore and uncreate reality.

“But how? I wondered out loud. “The Void was created after the elemental treasures were transmuted from your magic.”

Lore's history has been recorded differently from what really happened millennia ago. The Void was originally created when the Creator split himself into the other elemental lords and myself, not when we converted our magic into the elemental treasures.

“The Void shall always reign supreme! Cast of in the shadows of reality, the Void plotted for centuries to overtake Lore!”

Trying harder than ever, Xalter continued to pummel the Heart of Fire with Void magic. But to no avail, the elemental treasure would always come back in pristine condition.

The Heart of Fire will not be so easily destroyed. We created the other elemental treasures as defenses against your Void. The Crystal Aegis. The Chalice of Harmony. All were material objects made of primordial magic. Except for the Heart of Fire. You will never be able to destroy it for the Heart of Fire is fueled by the will of mankind and the races of Lore! It is the manifestation of Lore’s will to fight back against the Void. Lore continues to drive you forces back at Soriranashi-Sonikan. It is only a matter of time before your army falls to Creation.

“No. No! I came so close! I, the Hand of the Void, will not back down now!”

Reihirim. Your loved ones on Lore are now defeating the last of the Void forces from Soriranashi-Sonikan. It is over and you have fulfilled your role in the grand scheme of the Creator.

And so, the Heart of Fire began glowing even more intensely. Fire shot out. Water spewed from the depths of the elemental treasure. All 8 elements poured out of the Heart of Fire and manifested into one stream of ether aimed at Xalter’s heart. Piercing his chest, the plane of the Void around us began to disappear.

“Mark my words, Elemental Ambassador. This is not the last you’ll see of the Void. Sooner or later, we will rise out of our ashes to unleashing uncreation on Lore and give Lore it’s reckoning!” With this final statement, Xalter vanished as the ether stream dissipated his Void magic.

As Elemental Ambassador, you have fulfilled your duty with the highest possible praise. You will now be transported back to the Imperial City where you will find your friends waiting anxiously for you.

“Thank you, for everything. What will become of you and the other Elemental Lords?”

That is for us to know and a future generation to learn. Goodbye and may peace remain in your world for a long time to come.

Environments flashed past me as I traveled back to the imperial city. Lush environments surrounded me. Technological cities flashed by me as I continued to travel through space and time back to Lore. Finally I arrive in Soriranashi-Sonikan after many visions but perhaps, just perhaps the Elemental Lords gave me a glimpse of the future.

“Reihirim!” Inazuma was the first to spot me. Though I doubt anyone missed me as I arrived in a great flash of multicolored light.

“Reihirim! Oh, I was so worried.” Kiyome ran into me and grasped me in a hug that would’ve strangled an earth dragon.

“Kiyome, you’ll choke him to death. As if he hasn’t had enough near death situations lately. Anyway, you look a little flustered. How was your trip through the Void? Mine was a little too bumpy for my likes.” With an lighthearted look on his face, Lazulis beamed through his shattered visor.

“Ha!” I laugh. We all can’t help but laugh out loud at the general’s understatement.

"Reihirim, all the elemental treasures have somehow restored themselves," Kiyome told me. "Was it of your doing?"

"I'd say I had a little influence on that, yes."

“So, what of the Void? Is it over at last?” Walking up to me, Glaceus asked the question everyone was dying to know.

“All I know is that peace will reign for a long time to come and that the future is bright.”

Yes, yes Reihirim. It will be indeed.

And with these last mysterious words communicated to us through our minds, the clouds in the sky parted, revealing the sun and bathing the imperial city in a warm light. Lore would face a promising new future. A future of peace and harmony.

< Message edited by mastamaker -- 6/28/2012 22:51:23 >
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