PowerFusion50
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A Sonnet of Sorrow, Sung for Lore
Part One: The Newcomer
I
It was a quiet, slow day for Yulgar as he went through the motions of his daily commitment to run the inn. A few adventurers here and there had been passerby to his counter, only to sell their outdated weapons for a quick profit. The Guardian, Nimrod, whom always could be found in the entrance hall to the Tower, was now relaxing in Yulgar’s Inn sipping a dark, potent coffee which he had purchased; as Yulgar now offered it for fifty gold per cup. They were making small talk, discussing the weather, recent victories, new weaponry, and the overall joys of being a Lorian, which offered nothing but freedom and a magnificent life.
As they were discussing the repairs which the Tower was undergoing, G. Nimrod heard behind him the door of the inn creek open. He turned round and was dumbfounded by what he perceived. There, in the doorway, stood a magnificent warrior, bearing a studded, blue armor that seemingly was fortified in some way. The solid silver helmet, which was shaped like that of a dragon’s head, glistened in the sunlight. From his back sprouted large, silver glorious wings. The sword which was held to him by his belt strap was a menacing double-edged scimitar, which was stained all over with the remnants of blood from many battles. The warrior ducked his head slightly and retracted his wings so that he may enter the inn.
The warrior slowly walked into the inn and occupied the empty seat next to G. Nimrod. The warrior looked at the steaming coffee, and then to the coffee pot which bore the price above it. The warrior reached into the small bag which was attached also to his belt strap and laid fifty gold on the counter, saying, “One coffee, please, my good sir.” Yulgar poured the liquid, then decorated it with sugar and milk, handing it to the warrior. He removed his silver helmet, revealing a somewhat average face with a black, “hero” hairstyle. He leisurely lifted the mug to his lips, and sipped it.
“So, how are you today? May I ask of you your name and class, I haven’t yet seen this armor in Lore.” Said Yulgar. In response, the warrior slowly leaned back and said, “My name is hero, my class is leader.” This reply sparked several looks of ‘this guy is crazy’, which Yulgar and G. Nimrod exchanged between each other subtly. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand. That’s not a class…” said G. Nimrod inquisitively. It was some moments before the strange warrior would reply. After awhile, he said, “Any time a man rules another man or a beast he is a leader. And any time a man saves the life of another he is a hero.” Yulgar, becoming very confused, asked, “So, then you are a Beastmaster…?” “Of sorts, yes.” Replied the warrior.
Nimrod could not help but notice the elegance of the armor which this self-proclaimed beastmaster-hero wore upon his back, and said, “This armor looks magnificent, you must be a Guardian, no? to be able to bear it?” The warrior responded, saying, “Hm? A what now? No, I am not a Guardian. But tell me more of this title. What does signify?” Nimrod said, “A Guardian is a sworn protector of Lore. He must defend all that is good and right. He also is granted access to weapons, armors, spells, and countless other things which are not available otherwise. You have never heard of Guardians?” The warrior thought for a moment; he seemed to be recollecting something from his past. Then said, “Oh, yes. I have heard of your kind before. It sounds like that title is very much respected here.”
Nimrod: “Why, yes, yes it is. Is it not where you come from? Guardians have the same status all over Lore.”
Warrior: “What status is that?”
Nimrod: “They are revered as heroes, protectors; they are respected by all.”
Warrior: “That is interesting. Where I come from, Guardians are not of that status. They are few and far between, and have very little say in the goings-on of Lore. They are just another class.”
Nimrod and Yulgar gave each other a look of astonishment. Yulgar asked, “So where is it you come from? What town?” The warrior responded “My hometown, good sir? My town bears in it a large, stone tower with a falcon perched on it, very much like your own; although it is in far better condition. The town itself, however, bears the name of Falconreach.”
II
The warrior took another sip of coffee. “Falcon---reach? I have never heard of that town, I don’t think it exists.” The warrior then slammed down his coffee. “What!? Are you calling me a liar you two-bit peasant!? Where I come from you are nothing! Your kind is the figurehead that sits upon the kingdom throne, pretending to be valiant warriors! In this world you may be of authority, but in mine you are the golden battleaxe that sits in the glass case; being appreciated as nothing more than a future icon of victory!” Nimrod became as angry as the warrior, and exclaimed, “Here I do hold authority, menace! And as such I demand to know your title! What makes you think you waltz in here calling Guardians nothings!?”
The warrior held up his hand, “You bore me, supposed hero. If you wish so valiantly to know my profession, it is that of a lord over dragons.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a shining gold medallion. It bore the image of a dragon’s head and wings, and in the center was a red, transparent sphere that seemed to glow, even in the absence of sunlight. “This, in my world, is known as a Dragon Amulet. This renders me a Dragonlord, and in my world it is these who are the heroes of heroes. It is these who are granted access to exclusive countries and items and abilities. This amulet even allows me to converse with dragons, by translating their babble into words as they pass from their mouths to my ears.”
Both Nimrod and Yulgar gazed upon this warrior in absolute astonishment. They could believe what their ears had perceived. He swiftly put the item back in pouch, as if he were afraid it might be snagged from his grasp. “Do you not have Dragonlords here?” he asked. Nimrod said, “No, we don’t. The closet class that comes to that are Dracomancers, which merely befriend them. And then, of course, there are the rivals, which are Dragonslayers.”
At the mention of this class the warrior slowly raised his head, gazing past Yulgar into space. He softly said, “Dragonslayers…? You have those here, too, eh? What name is does their leader go by?” “Galanoth.” Said Nimrod. “Galanoth…I know of him. He leads the slayers in my world, as well. Galanoth and his forces are the embalming fluid that kills and forces out the life blood Lore. But, tell me more of these Dracomancers; what are they about?”
“First,” replied Yuglar, “tell us of your world. You keep saying that, yet you also said you come from Lore. What is your story?” The warrior laid one hundred gold on the counter, asking for another cup of coffee. “One, please. And keep the tip, I can afford it.” He sipped, and began his story.
III
“I was a member of the warrior class, and went by the name of Jamison. It was a long life, no doubt. I lived in an inn in Falconreach until I bought my own home in the forest. It was a long, hard road to becoming a Dragonlord. I own my own pet dragon, and raised him to the titan he is now from an unborn egg which I watched over. A trained him from a young tyke into a fierce, unbeatable warrior. Then, I obtained the amulet which I showed you, and unlocked his full potential. I am now a nearly unbeatable level 40.”
“40!?” exclaimed Yulgar. “In this world that is almost nothing. Our levels exceed as high as 130. Does your level bear much power?” Jamison looked irritated, and said, “Yes, 40 is our maximum. Anyway, I thrived as a hero for many years, until I met a crazy man named Cysero. When I bumped into him, he was on an expedition looking for one his socks, the left one I believe. Anyway, that’s incidental. We became fast friends; though he is insane he is quite likeable. After we had known each other for a few years, he introduced me to one of his most advanced inventions. He said it would allow me to travel to Lore five years in the future; and he called it a ‘phone booth’, which to this day I know not what it means.”
“I never heard of Cysero,” said Yulgar, “why do you call him insane?” Jamison said, “The definition of insanity, good sir, is repeating the same actions whilst expected different results. He asked me several hundred times if I had found his sock, and several hundred times I told him ‘no’. Anyway, I travelled in his phone booth, and here I am.”
Part Two: The Seizing of All of Lore
I
It had been several weeks since anyone had heard from the Dragonlord Jamison. The word of his arrival had spread very quickly all over Lore, as Yulgar and Nimrod told everyone they knew of him. However, people were beginning to consider the two liars, for they had yet to see of this new warrior. Had he fled this strange world back to his own home in the forests of his home town? No one knew, yet everyone wanted to meet him. Could he possibly introduce his newfound class to Lore? These questions quickly arose as word of his arrival spread across Lore. Where had this newcomer gone?
II
“…now then, fellow Dragonlords, I have come upon the secondary currency of this world. I have obtained only about fifty of them, but it is plenty to allow us to begin our project.” “You didn’t give us away, did you Jamison?” “Absolutely not! I told them only of my story. I departed before they had the opportunity to ask more. Now then, our fire is built and we have our steel pot. Everyone, turn in your gold, you will not be needing it any longer.”
Jamison, and his band of three other Dragonlords, put all of their funds into the large steel pot. Jamison then held it over the fire. “This forest is quite intimidating. It is much harsher than Amityvale ever was. What did they call it again? Jamison?” “They call it Darkovia.” He replied. “To the east is the home of the vampires, and to the west the werewolves. They are rivals in this world, too, and will kill anyone they see. They are quite primitive, though. Mindless brutes influenced only by darkness. We can easily best them if any come our way. Oh, Johnson, please tell me you have the mould I constructed.” Dragonlord Johnson held out a small plaster mould, with the exact design of the face of a Z-Token carved in bass relief on one side, and the backside carved on the other. He asked, “How long should that take?” Jamison replied, “Not much longer. In about five minutes the gold will be liquefied. We must work quickly, for it will harden again. Jones, grab that tan paint and brush I gave you. We must make these just the right shade, as they are gold-ish-tan, not bright gold.”
The supplies were ready to go. Once the 400,000 gold was fully liquefied, the four Dragonlords began to very quickly mould it into Z-Tokens, little by little. By the time the entire pot was empty, the Dragonlords had about 800,000 Z-Tokens out of it. Jamison began to examine them, and was pleased. He then told the others to start lightly dry-brushing the tan onto them. By the time they were finished, they had exact replicas of Z-Tokens.
III
Jamison entered the town of Battleon. However, he was wearing a standard warrior-base armor. One couldn’t tell him from Adam. He approached the rare-hunter Valencia, and purchased a small-ticket item using the counterfeited Z-Tokens that he and his posse had made last night in Darkovia Forest. Valencia happily sold him the sword, and once he was in the forest he chucked it into the bushes, approaching his gang who were hiding behind a large oak tree. “How did it go?” one asked. “Perfectly,” replied Jamison, “the ultimate dealer in Z-Tokens couldn’t tell that they were fakes. We are home free in that aspect. Tonight, Cysero is going to send our pet dragons through his phone booth; when that happens we are going to make our move. Lore will become a kingdom, and we will become its kings. Our only competition now are a race known as Dracomancers. They are friends of dragons, and can harness some of their power. Although, I secretly took an expedition to Dragonspine and perceived their leader as a washed-up old warrior. Also, Dragonslayers exist in this world, like ours, so be prepared to fight them as well.”
“Do you think we’ll succeed?” asked Jones. “Most certainly;” replied Jamison, “in this world everyone reveres Guardians as the greatest protectors of Lore. We will eradicate them most easily. You haven’t seen Battleon, yet. I have. The entire town, with the exception of their Guardian Tower, is built entirely of small buildings constructed with wood. One paw of one dragon can smash the entire town with one swift swipe.” Jones looked puzzled, and asked, “But isn’t Battleon supposed to be the central gather point of this world?” Jamison chuckled, and said, “Yes, although it is the smallest and the weakest. We will eradicate the Guardian forces at the heart of their headquarters.” Then Jones though for a moment, and asked, “What about the paladin Artix?” Jamison thought for a moment, saying, “What about him? If he tries to attack me my dragon will breathe its most intense flame upon his body, melting his armor and burning him alive. Every conflict that arises can be stomped back into the dirt by the might of our dragons.”
IV
The anticipated night had finally fell upon Lore. The gang of Dragonlords awaited the arrival of the phone booth in a clearing in Darkovia Forest. The ground vibrated slightly, and suddenly it appeared. Out of the phone booth came Darkpath, Jamison’s pet dragon. The phone booth disappeared, and reappeared with Jones’s pet dragon, Power, in it. One by one, the Dragonlords acquired their forces. Then, suddenly, a crazed vampire came leaping out of the bushes! It hastily jumped towards Jamison! In one single swift movement, Jamison unsheathed his sword and beheaded the vampire. “A mere annoyance.” He said, smiling. All of the Dragonlords mounted upon their pets as Jamison exclaimed, “First Battleon, then Lore!”
Back in town, Twilly was resting atop the highest hill in town, and saw the seemingly small fleet arriving in the distance. Alarmed, he ran to the Guardian Tower to warn them of an attack. “Gawdians!!” he exclaimed, “a fleet is coming to Battleon! Scramble the twoops! Get Awtix and Wawrlic and evewyone else! We don’t have much time!!” The Guardians quickly reacted. Nimrod ran to the mage shop, and upon not seeing Warlic, ran into the back room and barged in his bedroom, shaking him. “Warlic, Warlic, get up!!” “Aw, what is it?” “Battleon is being attacked!! Get your staff your strongest scrolls, there’s a war on!” and he immediately ran out. Warlic quickly dressed and grabbed his equipment. Meanwhile, another Guardian barged into Artix’s room in Yulgar’s Inn, waking him much the same way. “Battleon’s being attacked!? Right now!?” “Yes!!” “Oh no! Call Galanoth, and Lord Cyrus, and the Beastmasters and the Rouges and the Necromancers!! I’ll get my fellow Paladins!”
In great haste, everyone did their best to call upon allies. In times like these, classes were only sources of abilities. Paladins fought alongside Necromancers; Pirates fought alongside Ninjas; Dragonslayers fought alongside Dracomancers; Vampires fought alongside Werewolves, and both parties welcomed the help of Werepyres. Even the Paxia clans would unite as one. All rivalries were put aside. The calls for help had been sent, however it was clearly too late. Darkpath landed in the clearing of Battleon, with the other dragons hovering above him. Jamison first spotted Warlic, and commanded his dragon to burn him. As the fire reached the ground, Warlic held out both hands wide open, and produced a large shield of ice, protecting him and the Guardians which surrounded him. “I can’t hold it off much longer!!! Attack!!!!” All at once, the Guardians and elites began to attack, but the effort was futile. The dragons blew them away with their various breaths, and Power leveled the town of Battleon in two swipes of the paw, one destroying the town, and the other destroying the Tower.
In an instant, Battleon was lost, its native heroes burned beyond endurance, no longer able to fight. Jamison turned round, and gazed into the distance and saw many armies coming toward the town. One large army for every class and clan. Jamison smiled, and said, “Lore will be seized on this night. The war is coming to us and we need not indulge in conquest.”
Part Three: The Sonnet
I
It had been nearly three months since the war for Lore. The Dragonlords had won, and now controlled every aspect of civilian life. Guardians no longer existed, and the only form of authority were the Dragonlords. They had already outlawed the use of magic, putting people like Warlic out of business and practice. They had also outlawed Z-Tokens, and were the only ones to bear them; thus putting people like Valencia out of business and practice as well. Also, it was made illegal and punishable by inhumane torture and death to slay a dragon.
Every society on Lore was reduced to the technological level of the Dark Age. Everyone, regardless of class, was living in mud huts, and everyone had no choice but to bear standard weaponry, as all other forms of weapons had been outlawed. There were now no more classes. Everyone now went by the title of Peasant, and had no power that somebody else didn’t.
It was impossible for anyone to fight a monster above the level of 50. Even Artix and Warlic were reduced to the bare minimum of power. Artix, wearing a standard warrior base, walked into Warlic’s hut, who was also wearing a warrior base, forced to practice only in that class.
“Warlic, this is terrible. How could I let this happen?”
“It wasn’t just you, friend. Every single person lost their own piece of land in the war. Even the clans and their statues are destroyed; the Dragon Lords made their home on Paxia.”
It was true. All of Lore had been lost. Then, Warlic closed his eyes, turned his back Artix, and slowly lay down on his small, crappy cot. Artix’s heart ached so to look upon this, and he could bear it no longer. A single tear ran down his cheek as he left the hut.
II
Oh, how the world of Lore had died away,
The flowers and the trees blossom no more.
How slowly the day comes which we wait for
Lore to be freed of its horrid dismay.
Lore will finally be free on that day,
What can we ever do find the door
Of yet to open our classes once more?
The goings-about; of I cannot say;
What can we do but fight back for our world?
I’ll fight, I must say, fight until the death
And I’ll never upon never give up!
The plans that I have, my mind thus twirls
But I will never give up until death
So let the rescue of Lore be abrupt!
III
The next day, after the sun was down, Warlic crept into Artix’s mud hut and sat next to his crappy cot. “Artix,” he said, “we can let this go on no longer. We must again organize and fight back for Lore.”
“What is the use, friend? We have already lost once. And besides, all our powers, though we still have them, have been outlawed.”
“Who cares? What is the worst thing they can do to us? Kill us? I can tell you that if we do nothing to save Lore, we may as well suicide ourselves because it will be make no difference either way!”
“I suppose.”
“Listen, the night is still young. You go to the north and the east to fetch all who wish Lore back. I shall go to the south and the west and do the same. We may be down, yes, but by no means out. If we lose our beloved land a second time, then we can surely say we are failures. Until then, however, we must accept nothing less than freedom.”
“You are right. We must win it for Lore!”
As the night ran on, they both travelled to their designated halves of the countryside. Everyone now lived in mud huts on the continent in which Battleon previously stood. Since all of Lore’s armies had brought the fight there, it is now where they lived. The Dragon Lords now lived on Paxia, and were planning to establish dragon kennels on the remaining lands. Since it had only been several months since the war, nothing but plans on paper had been produced.
The night was quickly escaping. Artix had already spoken to Galanoth, Blackhawk, Captain Rhubarb, and was approaching Han’s mud hut. He won them all over, and yet he had to continue. After his departure from Han’s hut, Hans went over to Aria’s hut to say goodbye. “Aria,” he said, “I have been saving this for you for many years. Now that you may never see me again, I wish you to have it.” He handed her a cute trobble. “Thank you, Hans.” Her expression was of delight, then quickly turned to despair. “Why will I never see you again?” He answered, “We shall fight back for Lore. I have been recruited to join the army. Please know that I have always liked you.” She began to weep. “I have liked you too, Hans. I wish you the best of luck.” They began to hold hands. Upon the final goodbye, they looked earnestly into each other’s eyes, and they exchanged a long, passionate kiss.
Dawn was soon to crack. Both Artix and Warlic had done their absolute best at recruiting. The instruction was to meet them where Battleon used to be that morning, and then they would travel to Paxia and win Lore back. As the sun began to rise aloft the horizon, the warriors, one by one, began to arrive.
Part Four: Revolution!
I
“It looks to me like everyone that is going to show up is here. We have an army of about one hundred. What I can’t figure out is how we lost the war with this many people.” Artix began to recollect the war inquisitively. “I can tell you,” answered Igneox, “every branch of the force arrived in Battleon at different times. It surprises me not that the Dragon Lords were able to defeat us one wave at time. However, in this instance, we will all arrive together. Though some may fall, I am confident we will our land back.”
“I agree.” Answered Glaciar, “When we arrived at ground zero two other civilizations had already fallen, and the closest one was still miles away. The circumstances differ extremely. I say we barge in all at once, and take no prisoners nor give mercy. Lore must be saved.”
“By all means!” exclaimed Jackel Sano, “All the wizards and myself will use our most powerful magic to subdue the tyrants! Damn their laws!”
The army of one hundred began to cheer and yell. Artix screamed at the top of his voice, “ARE YOU READY FOR A WAR!!!?” and his response was boisterous cheering, followed by a crowd-wide chant of “LORE-LORE-LORE-LORE…” The ship had sailed; there was no turning back now. May I clarify that that was said both literally and figuratively. They had to reach the island somehow, no?
II
Captain Rhubarb peered earnestly through his night glass. Upon which he turned and said, “Paxia lies just ahead! Ready your weapons and mana; it shall be a long and grueling fight!” They heeded this warning, and readied themselves for battle.
The shore could now be seen with the naked eye. Before long, the ship docked and the warriors-one by one-stepped onto the land. The boat drifted away, and their exit method was now nonexistent. “Fret not,” said Warlic calmly, “if we get off alive I can teleport you, and if not then we need not be teleported.”
It was true. Upon victory teleportation magic could be used again, and upon failure there would be no one to use it. It had been unanimously agreed that death was far better than the life which they now trudged and suffered through. As they walked about the island, the faints sounds of conversation became louder and less muffled. The army followed the sounds to their sources, breathing deeply and hearts beating loudly.
Artix spotted one of the Dragon Lords, and signaled the army to hide behind the large rock which was near their lair. A part of a conversation was heard: “…Cysero would have never let us use his phone booth if he knew what we were doing with it, ha ha…” Truths were told, prayers were prayed, and weapons were drawn. “Ok…” said Artix inhaling and exhaling deeply, “…For our efforts we shall reap everything…or nothing…” he slowly raised his sword above his shoulder level. “…CHARGE!!!!!!!!!!”
III
The army dashed out from their cover all at once. Luckily, one of the Dragon Lords was right on the other side of the rock, and thus was killed right off the bat. Jamison saw the head fly and the blood splatter, and immediately called his comrades and their dragons to war.
One Dragon Lord, Jones, immediately drew his sword and began a dual with Blackhawk. They both showed utmost skill in the use of their blades. After several blocks and counterattacks, Jones managed to slice Blackhawk’s leg open. His deep wound expelled rivers of blood down his shin. As Blackhawk yelled out in a cry of pain, he lunged toward Jones with intent to kill. He was aiming for his neck, but after more blocks and more counterattacks he managed to put a gash in Jones’s forearm. As Jones glanced toward his arm in shock, Blackhawk seized that brief moment to behead the Dragon Lord with is sharp sword. Although a fair deal of blood spattered upon Blackhawk’s face, he ignored it and continued to fight.
Just then, two great dragons came flying valiantly out from behind the mountains. One dragon attacked with the element of fire while the other fought with the element of ice. The opposing opposites dealt on their targets simultaneously caused a great deal of damage, killing some of the revolutionaries in the army. In response, Warlic, Jackel Sano, Gnuvain, all came together in a group; and as both dragons began another onslaught of their breath attack, the three archmages combined their arcane power to harness the great power of the elements. They took hold of the breath with their great magic power, and redirected the attacks to the opposing dragons. They had created a large-scale friendly fire which killed both dragons as they simultaneously exploded. Only the leader, Dragon Lord Jamison, now remained.
Artix himself dashed out from the crowd with a large, golden glorious sword in his grasp. He lunged upon Jamison; and they began yet another repetitive battle of attacks, blocks, and counterattacks. Just at the moment when it seemed that Jamison may injure or even kill Artix, Blackhawk flanked him and dealt some minor damage. As Jamison turned and attacked Blackhawk-which he did successfully, gashing his shoulder-Artix seized the quick opportunity to sever Jamison’s arm from his body. Jamison cried out in excruciating pain, and fell to his knees. Artix grabbed his sword and flung it away; he then grabbed Jamison’s breastplate and turned his face toward his own. Looking him dead in the eye, Artix poised the tip of his sword upon the left side of Jamison’s chest, and a voice of sternness and authority mutter, “Go to hell!” and plunged his sword through Jamison’s heart. The Dragon Lord began to make horrible gagging sounds, and started regurgitating blood out of his mouth; while pools upon pools of blood still spilled from his chest. He gasped for air as he attempted to cry out a valiant and heroic final say, but died before he could utter a coherent sound.
Part Five: The Grand Finale
Warlic used his remaining mana power to teleport the remaining revolutionaries back to Battleon. As the warriors regained themselves after the great war, Artix began to speak. “Friends,” he said, “we have successfully regained the lands of Lore from our tyrannical adversaries. I must congratulate you all on battle well fought. On this day after many months of totalitarian slavery, we have again earned our practice of freewill. All classes are returned, all weapons and equipment and Guardianism. It shall all be reinstated as before. And on this day also, friends, we shall begin the rebuilding of Battleon. Yes, here on these grands where Battleon used to stand we will rebuild it as it once was.
“Even so, friends, rebuilding Battleon is but only a starting point. We will then continue to travel the vast lands of Lore and rebuild all the towns and cities and civilizations as they once were. We shall reestablish our societies as they once were. Lore shall become as it was; and all Adventurers and Guardians alike shall prosper and usher in an era of peace and abundance! Let us begin; and let it be so!” And so they did. The remaining revolutionaries first began the construction of Yulgar’s Inn; and then onto the Mage Shoppe and then the Pet Shoppe and then the glorious Guardian Tower. Peace, freewill, and traditional customs had been restored to Lore; and all was right with the world.
THE END
< Message edited by PowerFusion50 -- 10/28/2011 1:40:32 >
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