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=AQ= In The Beginning...

 
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9/22/2011 10:37:47   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


Welcome! Welcome to one of the Creative Corners of AE Forums. Have a need to write something? Need to explain to the world who, what, where, why and how your AQ character came to be? Well, look no further. If you have a beginning to tell, we have a place for you.

A couple of rules to make this easiest to read.

1) One post per person. If you need to post small bits at a time, please just edit your post to continue it. Do not make a new post to add to your story. New major events in AQ will receive a new thread.

2) Please do not comment on the stories in this thread. If you want to comment on the stories, please go here: =AQ= In the Beginning discussion

3) If you choose to suppliment your story with pics, they must follow these guidelines: 400x400 MAX, 100KB MAX, no more then 4 per story.


Have fun and please...PLEASE remember the rules in both the AE forums and my own L&L rules.

< Message edited by Eukara Vox -- 9/22/2011 10:49:39 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 1
9/22/2011 11:21:38   
Travis Touchdown
Reality Touchdown!


Blood Moon

In Krovesport, a man running down the street is a common occurance. Indeed, as any resident knows, the only place remotely safe is indoors, with as many security systems in place as possible. Any smart resident with more than a fleeting interest in their own safety knows that running is the ideal mode of transportation when one has no choice but to leave their own home.

This man, however, was not going to visit his neighbor, nor was he on the run from one of the civilian vigilante groups that reared its head once in a while. No, this man was running for his life.

As he ran for a safe place, he fumbled for his knife, safely tucked away under a heavily-reinforced, thick leather vest. If he was cornered by his assailant, he would have to fight. His body armour, he had hoped, would be enough to give him the upper hand.

He ducked into a dark alley. There were empty crates lying around. They wouldn't stop an attack, but perhaps, he thought, he could use them to obscure his position until the danger had passed. He stacked a few of them into a wall, then hesitated. Inevitably his attacker would attempt to leap the wall. The man let out a slight chuckle. He knew what he would do.

He found a moderately sized crate. Judging by the writing on the side, it had been used to transport pets to Aria's shop in BattleOn. It had been opened, and its former resident was long gone. He pushed the crate far behind the wall, positioning it with a small group of smaller crates. He smiled, darkly. It looked completely inconspicuous.

As he walked towards the open end of the crate, however, his foot caught soft flesh. He looked down. An young man was lying in the alley.

"Excuse me, sir. I did not mean to disturb you."

The older man was silent, as though he was asleep. The man shrugged. A sleeping bystander wouldn't give him away. He would gone long before he woke up. As he settled into his box, he closed his eyes. A nap sounded like a good idea. It would keep him plenty quiet.

It wasn't until he began to doze off that he saw the man move. The boy had reached into his vest. There was a brief glint as the moonlight reflected off of the steel weapon.

Too late had the man realized that his attacker had beaten him to his hiding place. He fumbled for his knife.

On the other side of the small town of Krovesport, a small pop could be heard. It was as though an ember had launched itself from a small campfire. Instead of combustion, however, another life had been extinguished.

The boy admired his handywork, then knelt down and spat on the body of his foe.

"You were hardly worth my time." He grabbed the man's knife. "But I couldn't letcha get away with stealing from that family."

He had tread the path of the Assassin for a long time now, but he still had standards. Despite his choice of profession, he still tread the path of Good. He only targetted the evil and corrupt, or those who threatened the innocent. He returned what was stolen-- minus a small portion, though he would do charity work for the poor. This was one of those cases.

A few minutes later, a family which had been robbed at knifepoints found their stolen belongings waiting for them on their doorstep. There was a note:

"The man who did this to you will trouble you no more. The Reaper now has him, and I'm sure he will pay for what he has done several times over."

Death's Kid watched the family rejoice. He could feel something big brewing in BattleOn that required his attention. His psychic senses had not failed him yet.

Armed with only his weapons and a pocket of gold, he headed for the famed mountain town. What he didn't know is that this mission would change his life forever.

< Message edited by Travis Touchdown -- 9/22/2011 11:25:57 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 2
9/22/2011 12:40:46   
Mystical Warrior
Helpful!


Click Me!

< Message edited by Mystical Warrior -- 12/15/2011 21:07:43 >
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 3
9/22/2011 14:50:25   
battlemaster25
Member

My story isn't as good as the ones above me, but I've never claimed to be an excellent writer.

In Darkovia, the howl of a wolf could be heard, as a lone Lycan made his way to the mysterious ruined tower. He sought to prove to the pack that he was not weak, by braving the tower alone. As he crept into the courtyard cluttered with rubble, there was a sudden *swoosh*, as if from giant wings, and a huge monstrous black creature landed in front of him. It's body was shaped like that of an Alpha Lycan, but it's eyes glowed red, and long fangs glistened in the light. Then, the Lycan looked up and saw two massive bat wings. This creature seemed to be somewhere in between a Vampire an a Lycan. Suddenly, the monster spoke, it's voice deep and ominous. "It has been a long time since one of Constantin's sniveling pups has visited. What is your purpose? Do you seek to challenge the legendary WolfWing?" It asked, almost sounding amused. The Lycan stumbled back in fear, before managing to stutter "I h-had heard that there was a great beast here, so I s-sought to slay it...."

The beast, known as WolfWing, laughed. "Ha, let's see you give it your best shot! First strike goes to the challenger!" At this, the Lycan pulled out his small blade and charged. WolfWing held up one of his arms, blocking the blade with his metal bracers. Then, Wolfwing struck out with his claws, only to see that the Lycan had leaped out of the way in a split second. The fight continued for hours, neither succeeding in hitting the other. But, the Lycan was starting to tire while WolfWing had near-infinite stamina. Eventually, the Lycan stumbled. WolfWing's claws tore into his chest, leaving three huge gashes. However, at the same moment, the Lycan swung his blade up, stabbing right through WolfWing's arm.

Yowling in pain, WolfWing ripped the blade from his arm, preparing to finish the Lycan off. Before he did, though, he stopped to think. "The pup fought valiantly, I can't fault him that. None have been able to injure me in almost a century. I will give him a chance." He addressed the barely-conscious Lycan. "You fought well, pup, now I offer you this choice: Become one of my Werepyres, or perish."

The Lycan, who had no intentions to pass on just yet, managed to grunt "Pyre...." before passing out. Weeks later, he woke up, lying on a soft mat in the ruined tower. WolfWing walked towards him. "Oh good, you're finally awake, pup. I thought my curse had killed you." Then, the Lycan looked down at himself. His body was stronger, his wounds completely gone. He then looked back, and saw two massive light-gray bat wings. "I've never seen them in silver before, pup." WolfWing commented. The Lycan, or more accurately the Werepyre, looked over at WolfWing. "My name is Storm." WolfWing looked surprised, which amused Storm. "I guess I need a cool-sounding nickname like yours, huh? I'll be Silverwing." WolfWing smiled, musing to himself. "Storm Silverwing.... Not bad, not bad at all."
AQ  Post #: 4
9/22/2011 21:56:12   
Cataclysm
The fanciest of moustaches


Lo, seekers of the past, diviners of the ancients, hunters of the historic. There is no written record of the history of Cataclysm, the warrior of ages. Looking here, you have found the wrong place to seek such information, I regret to inform you.

However... Our Mages have... Other methods to ascertain such information. For a nominal charge, our Chronomancers can work together with our scrying Mages and peek on Cataclysm retelling his origins to his student in the art of war.

Oh, so you are willing to pay, then? Very well. I'll collect that sum... Thank you very much.

Right this way. I'll arrange a viewing for you. Hold tight for a few moments, this exerts great effort on the Chronomancers and Mages. They have to be perfectly in synch for this to work, you know.

Ah, ah, very good. It is ready. The Cataclysm: Origins portal is ready for you to view.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 5
9/24/2011 22:15:44   
Kinzdor
Member


As a boy Kinzvlle was very weak. He could barley lift a sword. He was picked on by all the other boys because he was so weak and skinny. Though Kinzvlle didn`t care all he cared about was his lessons and learning about new things. He was always reading or off in the woods somewhere exploring and finding new things and learning everything he could about the object. His town had a giant library which is were Kinzvlle spent most of his time. Then one day while exploring the woods Kinzvlle found 2 secret bookshelves and a chair inside the hollowed out trunk of a tree. One bookshelves had books explaing the different types of magic. The other was full of spell books.On the chair was a wand. There was also a wardrobe full of robes but only the mage robe fit Kinzvlle. "Wow this place must have belonged to some kind a great wizard!" Said Kinzvlle when he first stumbled upon the secret room in the tree.

Kinzvlle started to study magic and found he was quite good at it. Everyday after his lessons he would go down to the secret room and practice his magic. Soon he had mastered almost every kind of magic there was.As he grew he started to fit into and wear the robes in the wardrobe. He always kept at least one spell book with him at all times along with the wand. One day one of the big strong boys came up to Kinzvlle and began to make fun of him. "Haha you are just a dumb weakling who wears stupid girly robes!" Shouted the boy while pointing and laughing at Kinzvlle. Then kinzvlle raised his wand and pointed at the boy. "Oh a I am so scared! NOT! Idiot that stick cant do anything!" Shouted the boy before Kinzvle waved the wand in the air pointed it back at the boys chest flicked his wrist and pow with a giant blast the boy went flying through the small town Kinzvlle lived in. From that day on no one picked on Kinzvlle fearing that if they did they would end having a broken arm and leg like the boy that Kinzvlle blasted to the outskirts of town. Kinzvlle`s parents soon saw his gift in magic as well they paid to have him sent away to study with a mage who lived on a hill just little bit away from the town.Kinzvlle could bring one crate of belongs so he went to the secret room and stuffed the crate with the books,wand,and robes that were there.

As Kinzvlle set off on horseback towards his his teachers house on the hill he began to think of his future. He never even could have imagined that one day he would be a spell slinging human wizard by day but on the battle field of war he would transform into a noble giant beastly strong from. A Dracopyre form. Though he do know in some strange way that the minute he was done studying under the mage on the hill that he should head towards Batlleon without a minute to spare.





< Message edited by kinzvlle -- 9/26/2011 14:12:18 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 6
9/24/2011 23:27:06   
dethhollow
Member

In the begaining, Dethhollow was a young aspireing man who had a sense of adventure. he was a noble, finely tuned, piece of awesome that kicked but and was always up for talking about himself as an epic hero... But in reality he was verry troubled, and who wouldn't be? the world of Lore was a magical place where power was real. villans seemed to pop up every week or so and hatch another plan for global conquest, horrable monsters roamed just outside city walls, and danger constantly flooded the planet. Deth had been born with nothing to his name, born with a sword in his hand and a spirit for justice in his heart.

he survived to become one heck of a wizard, but fate often has a path more unforgiving to thrust opon those who walk it's narrow roads. Deth was out one day searching for the water lord's tear when he encountered his nemmisis, a man named Donnatello. a scientist who sought to prove the foolishness of Lore's inhabitants by dissproving thier elemental lords as nothing more than a hoax.

"bout' time you showed your face around here, Don. let me guess, your after the tear too?"
bantered Deth, for he knew, like most adept fighters, that the easiest enemy is the one who fights with rage instead of honor...
"eh, you know that a bloke like yourself won't find nothin but trouble around here unless you can offer some... treasures in exchange. right?"
Deth was cautious, but no fool. the easier way was to avoid a fight.
"well, for my favorite enemy I'd like to know what exactly qualifys for a treasure? Found some crazy stuff in a lifetime... like THIS!!!"
Deth pulled out a weapon he had prized for years, the big 100k. He couldn't hepl but to feel accompleshed as Donnatello gazed in absolute awe.
"constructed by the great Warlic himself, filled with 100 spirits of darkness so intense that summoning costs almost 1,000 gold each and every spirit caught at the dawnward crossing from darkness into light, one spirit a day for over 2 years. a brilliant sword, but what I seek is a direct link to the water lord itself..."

Donnatello was shocked, but regained his composure. "you wouldn't part with such a prize..."
Deth smilled. "your right, just wanted to screw with you."
Deth, brave as he was, wasn't an adept fighter. he was a fool. but a magical fool, probly the most dangerous thing imaginable...
"here's what I demand... you listining, Don?"
"yeah."
"I want a couple dogs, a time-free watch, some dinosaur eggs, some dinosaurs, a llama in a sock hat, 3 pounds of bacon, and a book on 'how to Dougie'..."
"that's alot of stuff..."
"100,000 is alot of gold..."
"or, I could just summon my undead, kill you, and steal the sword... Michelangelo! Leonardo! Raphiell! KILL DETHHOLLOW!!!"
"no."
"wha- what do you mean, NO!?!? ARGGGHHH!!! MAGES AND THIER STUPID MIND GAMES!!!"

"you know what? just take the weapon. big 100k right here."
"what?"
"yeah, just want the tear... weapons aren't that importaint when your a genious mage!"
"oh, well... ok... feel free to find your fake item?"
and so Deth went forth, knowing it will probly take about 20 minutes for Donnatello to figure out he was given a fake... and he did find the water lord's tear quite easilly... but it was a heavy price to pay. elemental magic surrounded it, and the shockwave tore his flesh from his verry bones. Deth was left as but a skelleton of his former self. he lived in the relm of the reaper until Dethhollow found new hope in legends of the blade of awe and willed himself back to life.
forced to maintain his body with every bit of mental power he had, but unable to use it for anything else... Dethhollow would then become one heck of a fighter with his new-found mana-enhanced strength.

it would take years for humanity to accept him as he is, but once he found the blade of awe guardianship would soon follow.

PART 2 IS UP NOW, DETHHOLLOW TAKES ON LEEPRECHAUN MADNESS!!!

< Message edited by dethhollow -- 9/26/2011 16:50:54 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 7
9/28/2011 17:49:31   
D.F. dude
Member


No one ever said i was a good writer so here goes nothing.

His name was Mars Ultor....... or was it Archmagus? He couldnt quit remeber back that far. Before IT happened. Before........... he was.........CHANGED. He could only remeber......... flashes. Images. He saw a Hero. Strong. Holy. Pure. He saw the city of Falconreach, now a ruined and hollow husk. He saw the guardian tower there, now crumbled to ruin. And he saw........ Her. The one who he had pledged his heart to. The one whom he had loved. The one.............. who had fed on his soul. Had fused his body with the very essence of Evil. No longer was he Mars Ultor, the Savior of Falconreach. Now. Now, he was Archmagus, former Dragonlord, now Dracopyre. Now he was fused with his very dragon, Shruiken. Now he was something............ inbetween. Now, his essences, both good and evil, were in locked in a constant battle. Now, he continuied his quest to find the women who had stolen his heart. And then devoured his soul. As the moon rises over Battleon, his new home, a shadowy figrue moves acroos the roof of Yulgar's in. A voice, as cold as ice and as hollow as an abyss, cries out at the moon, "I WILL FIND YOU! NYTHERA!!!!!!!!!"


< Message edited by D.F. dude -- 9/28/2011 21:26:21 >
AQ DF  Post #: 8
10/24/2011 22:12:41   
Elryn

Custodian (DF)


Link.
AQ  Post #: 9
11/20/2011 18:44:07   
Sanctus Paladin
Member

Sanctus Paladin


Darkness was everywhere. There was no moon out that night in Darkovia when Safaria abducted the child from his parents. She came through the upper window with 12 of her eldest servants and killed the child parents as they slept. None know why she wanted the child but she most certainly did. She ended up killing one of her more foolish vampires who tried to take him from her arms as she returned to her castle. She raised him personally, torturing for any ignorance or disrespect. He became her only human servant. No name was given to him but assassin. His face became pure black with bright red bloodshot eyes. Over the years the boy started to lose any emotion. That is, until one day

One morning when the boy named assassin was sent on a special mission, he had a great revelation. A revelation that changed his life. A rebirth. He saw for the first time in his memory the simplest and most powerful thing he had ever seen. The sun. Never had he seen such brightness. Growing up with vampires the unfortunate child had either slept through the day or been under a dense forest. But this sun, this sun, this power was different than anything he had ever seen or experienced. It was the procise oposite of all the pain and hate that had surrounded his life. Assassin started to run and run and run. He ran until his lungs and legs begged for rest. And then ran some more.

He awoke. Quickly he realized must have swooned from sheer exhaustion. He heard a fire crackle next to him and saw a man in a long white robe with an equally long beard.
"Who are you?" hissed Assassin.
"Oh, you need not fear me, I am only a humble priest. I worship the lord of light and am head of a small monastery not far from here. I saw you laying face down in the middle of the road and decided to help you. I mean you no harm." replied the elderly man.
"How are you going to help me?" was Assassin's answer.
"Come with me and I shall show you," and with that the priest went off and beckoned Assassin to follow.
The priest whose name was Lumos brought Assassin to his monastery. He fed him and clothed him; and he taught him the ways of light.
Soon Assassin was of age and had learned all the priest had to offer. Lumos gave Assassin three things before he departed to be his own man in the world: one gold coin, a compass, and a name, Sanctus. Greatful, Sanctus embrace the man and returned the coin and compass saying that the priest had done more than enough for him. With that, he left.

Sanctus departed from the monastery with the mind to join the great clan of light. He walked all the way to Lolosia only stopping to hunt and sleep. There he gained passage in trade for work aboard the vessel Expedishin (the captain of the ship was not a learned man nor a great speller) to Paxia. Once at Paxia he scaled mountain on which resided the Lucian clan. He soon became a member and a loyal friend to Lucius. It was there that he first gained knowledge of wizardry and met his first master.


< Message edited by Sanctus Paladin -- 4/14/2012 21:58:36 >
AQ  Post #: 10
2/5/2012 23:54:19   
Phrixus
Member

Well this isn't very thorough but it will serve as a quick overview for now to give readers an idea or two about Pesmerga.

***


A brief overview of my character's background stems from the name of the former knight Pesmerga.

Pesmerga is the long former Praetor of Algern from the days when the Paladin and Necromancer orders were relatively new to Battleon. These were much different times when he had a higher vision, but no purer methods. Being said Praetor has gained him enemies on both sides as he has left the services of Algern and went against the original collective plan to rejoin him during the Terrible Twelve War. This has naturally gained enemies during his time as Praetor as well.

When Pesmerga left however, he tookwith him the four he trained-the rest of Algern's Praetorian Guard. These he named the Vindictives, and due to their ill reputation with many folk near and far, they keep to themselves up in the North where the icy wind is always biting like a wolf. With them they took aliases, so that they may interact with the people around them as they please without stirring up too much trouble. For many a war they make the journey down from the bitter Northlands and help in the fight with what time they have to spare before returning to the Frozen Halls.

It should also be mentioned that Pesmerga has a past far more grim than that of his work with the fallen knight of Rennd. There are deeds he has committed in his lifetime that have made him what he is today and have allowed him to live in a certain prosperity and comfort. This past he will never escape and it is the reason he was given the name "Pesmerga" which translates to "He who chases after death." He epitomizes the struggle between the divine and the bestial.
AQ MQ Epic  Post #: 11
4/8/2012 16:48:16   
Sir Arceon
Member

LEGACIES OF AWESOMENESS: MY ORIGIN


After the Creator and the Elemental Lords created the world of Lore, they decided that all things needed an avatar. So they created me, the avatar of Awesomeness, and my brothers, the avatars of Death, Pestilence, War, and just about everything else. I was clad in the awe-inspiring set that inspired Awethur's set of Awe. Unfortunately, many of my brothers were not very fond of me. Amnesia wiped my memory clean, Weakness took most of my power, and Trickery cast me down to live amongst the humans of Lore.

There I was, in the form of a newborn child, when it happened. The event which led to my brothers-in-law, Drakonnan and Drakonnas, becoming villianous wizards, seperated me from my surrogate parents forever. (For more details, see my quest idea, Rise of Drakonnax!) I was adopted into the family of Cyrus, the Dracomancer High Khan, and from that, my love of dragons was reborn. Yes, the dragons were my idea. You can believe that, or you can choose not to, your call.

Anyway, for a time, I was Drakonnax, the Dracomancer Supreme. But when I was killed by a rogue dragonslayer, I ended up in Nowhere, domain of my brother, Death. He was shocked to see me.

"...Awesomeness?"

"Yeah, I don't mean to brag, but I guess that's one of my qualities."

"No, I mean... no, it can't be..."

"What?"

Death then proceeded to tell me everything. All about my origin, my brothers' treachery (actually, it was Treachery himself who talked them into it.), everything.

It was then that I remembered. Suddenly, the darkness of the anger within my heart rose, and the Corrupted armor of Awe appeared on my body, and the Royal blade in my hand. That is my Dark Side that only reveals when I become greatly angered.

I was reborn.

I sought out the Set of Awe, and once it was in my possession, I made myself known. I roamed the land, aiding those in need, because that's what being awesome is all about; not just looking awesome, but doing awesomely righteous deeds.

Remember: do good things for others, and Awesomeness will come your way.

< Message edited by Drakonnax -- 4/11/2012 12:42:10 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 12
6/29/2012 18:35:18   
Uskius
Creative!


How'd I get started? Ha, stop that, you're making me feel old before my time. *sigh* Well. As I tend to ramble on and there are a lot of little details in my story thus far that are linked with other tidbits in my past, I decided just to put the interesting parts into a quaint little ballad.

So you'll hear this, then? Alright, let me tune up the old lute... Ahem...

What's a tale if it is not told,
Once or twice, thrice, around the fire?
What is courage if it is not bold,
Standing brave as the flames grow higher?

In these lands of rising evil,
What dreams may rise
From a young man's heart
Up to the lonely skies?

One, born of the scourge
Two, bound through love
Three, a legacy in blood

"He shall know the darkness,
Like the moon in a starlit sky.
He will taste the sun,
And his lips shall kiss the night

The lonely road he must travel
To set his path aright
His heart will taste the sword
And his lips shall kiss the night

Arunnen, raise the knife!
LET THE SACRIFICE BEGIN!"

In these lands of rising evil,
What dreams may rise
From a young man's heart
Up to the lonely skies?

"Only in dreams have you seen thus far,
So many breaths less 'til your last;
My son, much more is yet to come,
Take my sword and hold on fast

None shall serve you as true,
No heart warmer nor wit as sharp,
For my spirit will live on in it
'Til you ascend to the stars."

In these lands of rising evil,
What dreams may rise
From a young man's heart
Up to the lonely skies?

"The magic twinkling in your eyes,
Let it run wild and free!
Let your laughter kiss the skies
And whisper through the trees

Though, there will come a time my son,
When decisions must be made
And between heart and steel
Always-
Always choose the blade."

Three final words he spoke
Ere I left for Battleon
Ones that told of pride and hope
The ones that lead me on...

In these lands of rising evil,
What dreams may rise
From a young man's heart
Up to the lonely skies?


So, there you have it, my friend. All you need to know about my beginnings- not everything, but everything you need to know. Definitely not telling you about the incident with a WindZard that sparked my obsession with the species, that's very personal and private and I myself don't believe it though I was there. But I'll sing again if you- no? No more singing? ...then away with the lute, another round of moglinberry juice!

((OOC)) If it'll help, I imagine the music and melody somewhere between the Skyrim bard's song and Treebeard's song, being sung by Hansi Kursch. :)
AQ Epic  Post #: 13
9/5/2012 15:54:06   
Necro_Fire
Member

The One

One night, 20 days after the great dragon war finale, Azreal woke up, covered in fire dragon goo.
He did not remember a thing from before, only his name; Azreal Demonheart.
As he shed off the goo and looked around him he noticed a man covered in a cloak, but as fast as he saw him, as swift was he gone.
He turned around and saw Artix from a distance.
Though he had a feeling he once fought along side him, he suddenly felt an hate rising up in him but instead of attacking, he just walked away.
He knew the Paladin wouldn't be alone.

When he found the nearest pond to wash off the remaining goo on his body, he was shocked to see his fate.
His face, was that of a skull.
He, was turned Undead!

Out of despair he ran and ran, until he saw the guardian tower of Battleon in the distance.
This image he had seen before, created flashbacks of him as an adventurer, fighting alongside men, men with faceless faces fighting fire knights and demons and ohhh....
He fell down to his knees.

Then, after a brief moment he gathered the courage to look up again.
What he saw was Akriloth's Fire Breath that had been his death.
And what he saw was the Paladin, Artix commanding the troops.
It was HIS fault...

In utter rage he ran to Darkrovia; where he asked vampires, werewolves and even werepyres for their gift.
But not a single one of them would bite him, no blood in his veins, no flesh to be torn, he was a tasteless Undead.

The Necromancers near Obsidia's lair helped him, though.
If he wasn't working to do their bidding.
But everyday, he became stronger and stronger and trained in many classes.
He payed an Undead Paladin to teach him in the way of the Paladin so he may overpower the One.
He even became a Guardian, so he could use that to his advantage.

He fought countless wars, completed countless quests, so that he may reap the rewards.
Until the Necromancers feared he was becoming too strong, especially for an Undead they could not have total control of.
So they attacked him.
What they did not know was that Azreal, had learned some Necromancy of his own and when he killed them all, he made them of his own kind.
But he was the first, the first sentient Undead.

And to this day, he is still getting stronger, training, waiting.
For his revenge, and finally, the answer;
Why he?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, what do you think?
Good enough a story for my char?
If you want to see the guy, check my Char page.


< Message edited by Necro_Fire -- 9/5/2012 18:38:48 >
AQ  Post #: 14
9/23/2012 22:05:33   
poodlemiester
Member

In the beginning there was peace, there was safety and there were friends. Maestro always had a talent with a blade, be it a pole-arm, an axe, or a sword. And while everyone recognized his considerable talent, no one ever suspected he might ever rise to the glory of heroism. The young boy was brought up on the rolling plains of the south. He had often looked over the great expanses of grasslands and would go on explorations with other young friends regularly. They would sneak blades from their father's rooms and go out to go slay wild boars and other such things, often boasting of who stuck the biggest pig. It was on one such occasion where the tranquility of his life was so irreversibly shattered. Him and his friends Animus and Gerald were out "spying" on the mighty Augerthorne.

After a few hours it began to darken. "It's a little early for dusk, isn't it?" asked Gerald. "Yeah, we should still have an hour of light, at least" Maestro answered his friend. "Well I don't wanna get caught by one of those ugly brutes, so lets get out of here" Animus said, while beckoning towards the silhouette of the mighty fortress. As the 3 young explorers made their way back to their village they saw tendrils of smoke escaping from the rooftops of the huts. As they got nearer they heard the screams of women and children and the booming yells of men.

The 3 intrepid explorers shuffled along the outskirts of the town to see if they could see what was causing the havoc, and after a few moments of stalking the bushes they got their answer. Tens, no, hundreds of undead warriors were swarming their village. In the middle of the fray a large flowing mass of shadows stood, blasting men with unholy magic, a manic laughter escaping it's pitch black maw. Animus let out a low moan barely able to utter "They have my dad surrounded." It was at this point that the other 2 boys realized their families were somewhere in that mass of bone and blades. "We have to go in there, my little sister and mother could be killed!" Gerald weakly whispered. "But the paladins could already be on their way!" Maestro said, trying to encourage his two disheartened comrades. "Do you actually believe that?! We are in the middle of the plains, help is no less than a hundred miles away!" Gerald cried. Maestro could hear the sadness in his friend's voice. "Gerald is right, Maestro. We have to go help, even if we die, we have to try to save those people!" Animus whispered. Maestro couldn't tell if it was bravery or fright in his ally's voice. "Alright, we have weapons, and at least we should be able to help our friends and family get out of there." "On the count of three we run in there and kill those undead monsters surrounding my dad, then we go search the houses." Animus announced. "And why does your father get to be saved over my mother, or Gerald's sister?" Maestro spat at his comrade. "Fine! You go save your families and I will go save my dad by myself! I don't need you two wimps anyway, I always killed the biggest boars." Animus said with an air of superiority. "Then quit talking about it, you big-shot and go kill that lich and his monstrous servants!" Gerald cried. "Then I will!" and with that, Animus stormed off into the burning village. He didn't get but half way through the battlefield before falling over on his back, an arrow straight through his right eye. "NO!" was heard from somewhere in the chaos, before it too was silenced.

"By the avatars... can we really save anyone? The skeletal snipers could be anywhere, we could die within seconds." "What choice do we have at this point?!" Maestro said frantically. "Yeah... I guess I just don't want either of us to end up like Animus did" Gerald said with a shudder. "Very well, I think it is best that we both go get our families and meet where we usually set up camp out on the plains, don't wait for me, it's far too dangerous around here." Maestro said. "See you then, good luck!" Gerald yelled before running into the maze of smoke and undead warriors. What will become of him? Will he die like so many others have? I must have faith in him and follow his example. Maestro sprinted through the smoldering rubble of the place he once called home, ducking under the heavily nicked blade of a once dead combatant, running his blade through another. As he approached his small abode his worst fears were realized. Smoke was pouring out of the entrance, which had been left ajar.

NO! Maestro screamed in his head, his mouth failing to produce the desired cry. He ran to the house and lunged into it. What greeted him was a sight worse than he could imagine. His mother was dead, a hatchet firmly planted in her head. His sister was levitating 2 feet off of the ground, her very soul being drained from her body by the foul magics of the undead caster standing before him. He let out a piercing scream before charging into the dark caster, decapitating the malefic being that had been leeching his sister's very life force. By the time he had dispatched the monster though, it was too late. "Why... WHY?! There's no truth in it!" Maestro cried.

He knew he could not stay though, so he ran back out on to the field, fueled by the wrath he had just attained. He reached the center of the battle swinging his sword with reckless abandon. That is when he got his first good look at the bringer of this misfortune. Suspended some 4 feet off the ground the lich towered over him. In his hand the foul creature held a black skull etched with numerous runes which pulsed a foul crimson. His voice was similar to the sound that the boars had made when Maestro had run them through with his sword, but it wasn't pain in this horrible creatures voice. It was delight. "Oh look at this intrepid boy! So young, so frightened, yet still bent on saving his family. Well i'm sorry to inform you, but only the dead will populate this village by dawn!". Maestro looked over just in time to see Gerald get lifted off of the ground, and with a bright flash of blue get sent back some 10 feet, silent and still. Gerald's family still tried to run though, and at seeing this the horrific being let loose a vicious yell. "Do you not know who I am? I am Maximus, the twilight harbinger!" He promptly dispatched of the woman and her young daughter the same way he had killed Maestro's companion. After a few moments of battling the noise had settled down considerably, which Maestro had tried to think of as a sign that victory was close, though this hope was soon dismissed once Maximus cried "Yes! Soon none will be left but the dead!"

Maestro fell to his knees in exhaustion and despair. He had tried so hard, fought so selflessly but would the creator still have him killed today? It was hopeless to fight on. Maximus could rip this very soul from his body without so much as a thought, and recollecting, it was a miracle he hadn't yet. As Maestro rose to meet his fate he was hoisted up by two powerful gauntleted hands and thrown into the brush surrounding the ashen buildings that once made up his village. He saw bright flashes of light and the gurgling cry that could not be mistaken. Maximus was being hurt. Bad. The next thing he knew he saw a round object hurtling towards him. He couldn't move in time and was knocked unconscious with a hollow *clunk*.

It was bright. It was bright and his head hurt. Maestro struggled to get to his feet and view his surroundings. At first he looked around his feet and picked up an aged human skull. So this is what knocked me out last night... He thought with a wince of agony. His head was throbbing. When he turned to the location where his village once stood there was nothing but embers ash and a few low burning flames. Oh, and bodies. Twice as many bodies as there were people living in the town the day before. In the very center of this warzone there stood a glowing stone with an impressive claymore protruding from it.

"Hey, kid!" A deep voice sounded from behind Maestro. He jumped and almost fell over, before turning around swiftly to see a truly grand paladin standing before him. With the gold detail of his armor glinting in the morning sun and his eyes burning with righteous might he looked like he could fight an army and come out on top. "Uh... hey" was all Maestro could manage. "Your lucky I got here when I did. My name is Ruserik, and if you couldn't already tell, i'm a paladin." He said with a hint of enthusiasm. "Yeah but if you got here about 4 hours earlier, that woulda been fine too..." Maestro muttered, glancing back at his home, his friends, his family all covered in ash. "Just be glad your not in there with em'. Trust me, I know its hard, but once you've seen what this world has to throw at you, you learn to take it in stride."

"Well... what do I do now? My family and my friends... and my home are all gone." "Well you could come with me, I'm heading up north, i'm heading out towards battleon to meet up with rest of my order and traveling can get lonely, I wouldn't mind having someone to share the journey with."

And so Maestro set out to battleon, not knowing what to expect and with nothing to lose. Pledging to destroy all evil, so that no one else would be forced to go through what he did that horrible midsummer's eve.


People! tell me how I did! I'm still new at this and would love your criticism!

< Message edited by poodlemiester -- 9/24/2012 1:20:51 >
AQ DF AQW Epic  Post #: 15
12/4/2012 22:35:38   
Inherjha
Member

b]The Valkyrie's Command

It was raining that day. Poor weather, one would thing, for a war.
But this war had always been there. The people, whose names are lost to time, who fought no longer knew what it was they even fought for. At first it was to reach the top of Thunder Mountain, so they might attain the power of their Lord, the Energy Lord. But it seemed that no one ventured up the slopes, for at the base of the great mountain the war raged on. Everyone was required to participate, even women and young men. Each side would teach the wrongdoings of the other, embellish stories, but even that faded with time. They simply fought.
That day it seemed it would end. All the warriors had gathered. They sharpened their blades, recited their spells, and fletched their arrows, as the enemy did the same. There was some, however, that could not. The elderly, the sickly, and the children were to stay at the camp. There was one who had to stay, however, that did not want to.

"This isn't fair to you, I should be out fighting as well..."
She knew the war was senseless, but she had to protect her people. One day she hoped it would be over, and there would be peace for once.
"You know as well as I that cannot be. Any other day I would have you by my side in the heat of battle, dear."
The woman tried to get up, but he quickly eased her back into bed.
"Stay. The child must be kept safe. And he will have a father, I promise. He will grow up a warrior of Asgard, perhaps even donning our Lord's gift to our people. He is our child, after all."
The woman smiled gently, but suddenly gripped her abdomen in pain. The man, surprised, turned to call out to the midwife, but she stopped him.
"He's just kicking, is all. Go, they need you. It's almost time."
The man smiled and kissed her gently on the cheek.
"I will return to see my child. Wait for me."
He left.

The battle was going well. Too well, it seemed. The enemy had not managed to muster nearly as large a force as they had. They were still having trouble, as the fighters were skilled. The man hacked and cut through several opponents, and though they seemed to be on the defensive, they all wore grins.
Something's wrong, he thought, as he ran through the last foe with his blade.
This can't be their entire force...surely the others are around here waiting for an ambush...
"Oi, vermin, where are the rest of your men planning to ambush us? Or have they surreendered?"
The dying man grinned.
"We've...already won...hehe...take a guess.." He died
The man's eyes widened in shock.
He could already hear the screams as the warriors ran back to camp.
The rain continued to pour. Thunder boomed.

He couldn't believe what he saw. They were all gone.
And not just his people. Warriors of the other side lay slain all over the camp. They had still put up a fight.
The man heard the sounds of swords clashing. They still were. He ran towards the sound, and his heart beat faster as he realized it was coming from where his wife was.
He arrived just as the warrior struck her down. She fell and lay among the numerous bodies she had already slain.
"AAAAHHHH!!!" He screamed as he swung his blade, but the man turned at the last second.
The foe's blade entered his chest as he charged recklessly and severed the man's head.

The woman groaned. She could tell she was nearing her end. Her husband was still, locked in deadly embrace with her killer. She only wished her son could live.
And so he shall
"Wh-what...who?
Lightning tore the clouds asunder as a winged form descended. A Valkyrie.
You have fought bravely. Rest, and I will take you to Asgard with your husband. As for your son...
"What is it you desire? Anything so he may live, without this senseless war."
He must obey one command, that is all. This war has ended, thanks to your valiance. He will not take part in it."
"Thank you. What is your command?"
Fight
The woman clenched her fists. The path of a warrior, chosen for him. It would be painful. But at least he would live, and find a just cause to fight for.
"So be it."
Have you chosen a name?
"Yes. Inherjha is his name."
The Energy Lord approves. Inherjha, derived from the Einherjhar, warriors who have earned the place in Valhalla, as you have. Now, let us be on our way
"Will I see him, once he joins Valhalla?"
Death is no bar to the Valkyrie's command. He cannot reach Valhalla, this world is his Valhalla. He will fight on, each day, and nothing will stop him

A lone soldier had watched the scene, and carried him far away to find a home in which to raise him. Days and nights passed as he treaded on, feeding the baby before himself, fending off monsters, and one day he stumbled into a small town. Wheezing, he entered the inn, nearly collapsing onto the floor.
"What town is this?" his voice came as but a whipser.
"Battleon. Are you alright man?" the innkeeper asked.
The man smiled as he closed his eyes.
"Battle On, eh? How fitting..."
He opened his cloak and handed the baby over.
"His name is Inherjha. Please, take care of him. His people are no more. When the time is right, you may tell him his origins. I have written it down so our folly is not forgotten, so he may not repeat the mistakes of his ancestors."
The man keeled over. He was no more.

Since then Inherjha grew into a fine warrior, and one day his past was revealed to him. Now he knew, why he fought on, why he cut through waves after waves and destroyed enemy after enemy without stopping. He couldn't. That was his destiny. But he accepted it, and fought to protect those closest to him.
He hopes one day to find a way to meet his parents. And so he fights on, so that he may be strong enough to reach the peak of Thunder Mountain, where he believes he may find answers.

So tell me what you think. This is the first time I've written for AQ, so I'm open to criticism.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 16
4/3/2013 19:21:54   
Darquess
Member

My, my... how did it all begin?

This, dear traveler, is such a profound question.
How could one tell when a life begins to be influenced?

Is it when they are born?
When they are taught?
Or is it when their furthest ancestors decided to throw away their old lives and come to the Western continent of Lore?
Probably the latter causes massive changes, ones which parents, however misguided or angelic, cannot scrub out.
We are warped by time, and fate, into that which we are.

So, traveler. You ask me to recount the tale of one such person.
Ah, but here there is a snag.
Only one person can truly tell the tale of a lifetime, that person invariably will big up their own story or even more irritatingly, not tell at all.
The man you seek knowledge about delights in his privacy however, chance came once that after defeating a zombie horde together, we snuggled up under the stars.

Well, what can I say, it was a great ice-breaker on a first date.

So I feel that I know the story that you seek, but be warned. The truth is possibly far more darker than that which I tell you, and almost certainly more fun then I make it out to be.

Alright then, my friend. Settle down and we shall traverse back a few centuries to when Lord Yasden was merely a child.




Chapter One
The boy called Dyson

Dyson was born more than two centuries after the fall of the Rickety Tower and the formation of the Grand Shroom confederate.
In that time, the Padlin Order had revamped (sometimes literaly) its fighting styles, ethnics and magic.
The teachers and trainers in the town of Battleon and Granemoor worked hard to mold together the still small force of holy warriors into an army.
They faced many perils.
First, the dark spawn in the forests at that time, the were- people and the vampire lords, had expanded towards several villiges in the fallen wood.
The padlin leader though, was more than up to the task.
Uniting all the healers, mages and warrior sects in the Order together, he was the shield and the sword and the golden fist that repelled the darkness of the wood again and again.
The Order became rich, affluent.

Corrupt.

In time, the High Commander, of whom we shall return to later, married and concieved a child.
So it was that Dyson came to be.


End of Chapter One


Chapter Two
Glint of Steel


Fanrialus, Light of the Order, strode through the hall, scattering the crowd that had assembled around the door.
He held a hand to his temple, applied pressure to it for a breif second, then dropped the hand and turned towards the onlookers.
In his time, the Higfh Commander had slain orcs, men, elves, dragons and even Mantle wearers in his quest to rid the land of tghe gathering Darkness that seemingly sprouted from thhe air, the land, the people around them.
He glanced to the view beyond the crystal window.
The world beyong it's frosted galss beckoned to the old campaigner, but he was still determined to see the difficulties of the Padlin Order over before he departed to the wide road.
He sighed to himself; thrice times the lives of Men had he walked this earth and now he had no time.
Fanrialus turned from the window and entered once more into the world of political intrigue.


Dyson's cracked skull thudded into the gutter.
His master had just vaulted over the young trainee, kicked him in the face then took his kneck in one hand and smashed the face towards the ground.

It was Day Three of medical healing practice and so far, Dyson had been enjoying the challange.
His Mentor was a very old and very grumpy old man with the temper of a bull and enjoyed people about as much as a fish enjoys a harpoon.
Dyson liked this man. He was worthy of respect.
He groaned and pressed both hands to his head, trying to block out the thought process in his head that sent spears of pain running through him.
His eyes snapped open as the pain left him.

"Excellent!" roared his teacher as Dyson came to his feet.
"Now for the actual healing magic."
Dyson grimaced.The pain had been blocked by pure mental capacity however, the wound was still there and judging by the blood pooling round his feet, he had little time left.
He smacked down upon his head, bathing in a sudden golden light.
Removing the no wcrimson hand, he saw his teacher fling a knife at his knee.
He side-stepped, smiling.
Good. If the old man was attacking it meant he had sucessfully healed himself of blood loss and fixed the head wound.

Three minutes later, Dyson was on the ground again.
Too much magic went into that fight.
He had parried with arm, leg and shield but the wily old man wove through every jab and lock with grace and poise.
Dyson was learning to move around the battlefield and even the Mentor had gruffly stated that soon Dyson would be untouchable by all melee assualt.
Hence the magic lessons.

Fire came quickly to Dyson, as did Light- naturaly.
Ice and Energy was a struggle however.
The teacher made progress through out the months, culminating in the advanced healing magics of the Padlin.
Soon, Dyson would progress to Holy Might transformations, and several advanced Nija and Dragonslayer techniques.
He had also been taught several Vampire Slayer techniques; after a vampire attack on the Western forest, such skill was required.
The old man paused in thought while his student recovered on the ground.
He had not told him such, but he really was an exceptional student.
There were only two field he had not mastered... or was at least competent in.

Wind magic and the Dark arts.


Ahh, I see delight light up your face, my dear traveler. You imaigne that it is from here on in that Dyson slowly fell into shadow, delving deeper into the Darkness magic his emminent proffesor had taught him.
Well, no. 'Twas not so simple. And Dyson actualy struggled hard on the Darkness magic.
This is understandable, for one must have the will to learn in order to do so.
Dyson had seen the necromancers weild necromacy and Darkness against his father...unsuccesfully.
Why should he wish to learn a lesser skill.
His wise Mentor however, saw that balance would be critical to the boy's mind set.
He must be made to care about his enemies, for one day they sahll probably be his friend.

But I tire in this late hour. You shall find bed and board up stairs for the night.
But be careful!
Careful!
For there are such things that go bump and crack in the night...

Sleep well, friend.



End of Chapter Two


Chapter Three
The coming of Necromancy


You are awake. Excellent.
Let us continue down the winding path that led to the eradication of many lives


Dyson knelt before his father.
The surrounding Guardians, many of them Padlins as well, held aloft their distinctive swords, the elements changing.
At once, fire lit up the room, the smell of pine tree's entered the noses of the assembled and frozen air condensed on their armour.
Dyson was three years into his mentoring and had in that time achieved the rank of Guardian at the age of 18.
This was his induction into service ceremony.

Afterwards he emerged swathed in the new armour of his order, holding a sheathed blade in his arms and a billowing cloak behind.
He reflected on the battle-grey, gold tinged armour.

He would have to change THAT later on.

His father was beside him, and his eyes were shining with pride and happiness at the son's achievment.
They returned tto the golden halls of the Padlin Order, only to walk into a heated debate.
The zealous Commander Shan was making trouble... again.
The opposition was the main force commander,Garrus, one of Fanrialus' old friends.
He was talking heatedly with the other man.

"Why did you butcher the undead refugee's in the Doge Valley?", Commander Garrus shot at Shan.
"Those monstosities were unfit for Lore. I removed them, as my Lady commands."
Garrus was taken aback, " The Lady of Light never ordered us to eliminated any and all undead. We only kill those of the mindless necromancer hordes. These civillians were fleeing from their wrath!"
"And why are they intruding upon the peacefull wood elves who dwell in that valley," demanded Shan, "why are our main forces not attacking these 'necromancer overlords' if you know they exist?"
Garrus flushed.
"Just because we know the Order of the Mantle exists, and mark you, there are others out there, we don't know where they are."
Shan thrust back from the table, disgustedly. He stormed out after directing a terse, "High Commander," at Fanrialus.

Garrus sighed.
"What are we going to do? His methods may be extreme but he is right in that the undead protrude from the forests like a plague of locusts, spreading all many of dark magic around."
The High Commander flickerd an eye down to the map on the table.
"Dyson?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I know you have assertained...against my will, some experience of Darkness Magic from your mentor. Where would men of such a school of magic congregate?"
Dyson mused on this. He studied the map.
"The main points of Darkness magic, particularly Necromancy, is that a large collection of shadows or absence of sunlight aid power developement."
"Ahh, so they are in the forests. This much we had assertained. Where exactly?" butted in Garrus.
"Commander, they would naturaly assemble underground, or the closest thing to it in these places, such as..."

"The ruins!" all three men finished.

"Exactly," said Dyson.
Garrus motioned to the map.
Sixteen dots apeared in red.
"These are all the entrances we know of to ruins in the dark forests. Some are old abandoned castles, mansions and such. Some are mines and caverns. And..."
Fanrialus silenced him with a stare.
Dyson's ears pricked but then dropped the matter.
He knew that the commanders knew secrets about the forest and its history.
Things that, if widely know, would lead to a mass sympathetic opinion change from the padlins to the undead and their masters.
Such things would destablise the Order and so he didn't press at that time.

One day, he was going to regret that.

Sorry to disturb the context and revere you have sunken into traveller. I assume you know of the history of the forests you presently are residing in.
Things such as the red fog source, and the ancient temple in the centre of the woods. TYhe shadows that stalk our reality and the gods that touuched the earth in this place.
Yes, many dark things spawned here over the ages... none of them truly good.
I shall continue. By the way I hope you are taking notes... there shall be questions later.


The infiltration forces had been set up.
Dyson had been given his first command.
His mentor, twenty padlin soldiers, two padlin priests and himslef were to attack and purge the abandoned ruin of a great house before them.
The young man marveled at the build quality of the grand entranceway, even in ruins, still regal and awe inspirining.
He hoped they would not have to burn the entire place down by the end of the night.
He stopped and curse at the rapidly decreasing sun.
"Blast, we are about to lose our advantage!" he swore to his metor.
The old man grinned under his beard.
He pointed to the soldiers.
"They are warriors. Losing their magic does not mean they are no longer Padlins. Just because the surrounding lose Light, does not mean we do.
Yes, we lose our background power up, but the light in our souls will sustain them. And we? We have...other abilities."
Dyson turned to his teacher.
"How did you know we would find Darkness magic usefull, old man?" he said, grinning.
"All magic is usefull, young one. No matter what Commander Shan and the priests might say."

They proceeded into the mouth of the mansion, and were immediatly enveloped in the darkness of their surrounding.
Swords drawn, they slowly edged their way through the maze of collapsed halls and rooms.
Clambering over a pillar, Dyson shouted back to the others, "There is an abandoned camp up ahead. The fire is still lit. Possible ambush site."
Upon hearing this, ten soldiers and the mentor melted into the shadows.
The remaining men and women paced towards the camp site with Dyson.
One asked, "Could this be an actual camp for the necromancers?"
Dyson shook his helmed head, "No, the fire is too large, the shadows are pressed against the wall of this room. No necromancer would do this to himself."
The soldiers surrounded the fire and searched the room.
It seemed there was little of interest.

Dyson examined the walls minutely, looking for any crevice wear a secret passage may lay.
He saw that there was no such device or passage.
The new commander was confused for a moment.
His thoughts echoed through his head.
'Why is there no sign of hidden development, no sign of ambush and no sign of the enemy at all? Where did theyy go?
Oh right... stupid, stupid... they are still here.'

The Padlin slowly tilted his head to the ceiling.
Among the dusty hanging glass lights and shattered tiles hung a gigantic spider.

With a chatter of talons, it sprang, all ten feet of it, at Dyson.

End of Chapter Three

Chapter Four
The Winding Road

Pain is a sensation shared among all people. The squad felt the wave of agony jerk their muscles and sending them to the ground.
Dyson twisted his palm and projected a last ditch attempt against the Shadow Spider's mind probe attack.
The pressure on his mind fled, returning to the spider's brain along with Dyson's fist.
The creature shreaked and chattered with it's talons.
Rays of light burst forth from Garrus' staff, piercing the fragile eyes of the spider.
Dyson glanced at his mentor, as if to say, "This is a problem."
Garrus smirked back, "This is nothing, child."

Other members of the task force were on their feet now, and picking off skeletons with golden tipped arrows.
The group was slowly being encircled.
If the spider was not defeated soon, the undead would easily overrun them.

Garrus lowered his staff and shot the ball of Light at the Shadow Spider.
Blinded, the creature reared up. Dyson weaved through the up-turned talons and sliced the abdomen of the spider open, covering himself in green blood as he did so.
"Carefull Dyson, that stuff is toxic if you ingest it," shouted Garrus, slightly too late.

By morning, the undead had been put to rest again.
The weak sun shone in on the task force.
Quietly, with the trained proffesionalism of Padlins, the group packed up and departed.

Back at the golden halls of the Padlin Order, the High Commander was in communicatrion with the Lady of Light herself.
The main tower shone with inner light.
Garrus and Dyson had to wait outside for hours before he withdrew and recieved them.
All three padlins were concerned that an Undead force could congregate in such a large number without the Order knowing.
Necromancers had been on the wane for decades. Undead sightings outside the forest were a rarity.

Padlin numbers were high and the wealth of the Order was growing.
The High Commander knew that their increased numbers were a great advantage but also, because of such a shortage of undead, they were inexperienced.
Only the elven of the Order, including himself, remembered a time when Necromancers ruled large hordes of monsters, undead and other, more darker things.
But the world changed.
And now, the world was turning again.

Dyson saw the light shift in his father's eyes.
"What are we going to do?"
It was a tough desprate, the tone of vioce he used.
When he was one of the best fighter's in the Order, yet he couldn't take on one Shadow Spider.
"We need to push them," Garrus stated, "I doubt they are prepared for excurions into their own burrows yet."
A frown was kneaded into Fanrialus' face.
"This is a terrible moment, gentlemen. The wrong decison...or no decison, will destroy us, and doom this world to darkness."
Dyson placed a hand on the table.
"We need to go in to enemy territory on a intelligence mission. We also need to check their numbers with a direct attack.
I suggest I and Garrus go in alone through their catacombes, figure out who the ring leaders are, what their numbers are, what their plan is..."
The other two men nodded.
"We then need to signal where their mai base is to our task force, who will then take it out."
Fanrialus nodded.
"Very well. It shall be done as you said, with one exception."
"Yes?"
"I'm coming with you."

End of Chapter Four.


Chapter Five
Burn the burrows!

"Ahh", began Dyson.
Hanging upside down from blood encrusted ropes, the padlin twisted round and tried loosening Garrus' restraints.
No such luck.
The infiltration of the winding paths and tunnels had been going well. Several of the main clusters had been purged by fire and yet there had been little sign of resistance from the inhabitants.

< Message edited by Darquess -- 8/31/2013 17:06:10 >
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All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Legends and Lore] >> Writers of Lore >> [The Bookshelves] >> Collaborations >> =AQ= In The Beginning...
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