(DF) Gavon Felarian: A Biography (Full Version)

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3 Vandoren -> (DF) Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 10:49:24)

Hello.
How would you like to read a unreasonable long story about my alter ego?
I bet you would!
You can skip the long and boring Prologue, if you want.
Here is the link to the discussion page: BAM!
PLEASE comment there.
Now lets get started!
Begin!

Signature removed. -Faerdin



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 10:51:35)

Prologue
You don't actually have to read this...


This night the werepyre hungered.
The night was 22 years before the present day. The sky was clear and dark, the color of a dark amethyst. The branches of tall pagle oaks swayed in the wind and the skitter of nocturnal animals resounded in every tree, on every leaf.
The werepyre heard every last one of these noises and was tempted to lunge at them, but he sought something bigger. Just a month ago he had become one of the dreaded beasts, and he hated every second of the new life. In the mornings he woke to find he had attempted to claw himself out of the new skin, to no avail.
He had only feasted thrice, since his transformation, and he was starving. He would refuse his more animalistic side, because he could not bring himself to feast upon another animal.
He could hold his hunger no longer.
He ran through the dark forest and saw nothing that would satiate himself. He ran by a crystal lake and saw fish leap from the water; he would stop and drool, only to be refused when the fish returned to the water.
This night he had sensed something in his new domain, and he could not help himself.
He would kill the intruder, with his own hands and feast upon its flesh.
He made great leaps, over branches, puddles and the occasional mole hill. Every step took him closer to the end of his evil hunger.
Every step brought him great pain.
He stopped short. He stood on the edge of a small cliff, overlooking a forest clearing. He shook his head and repetitively clawed his thigh.
In the clearing, he could see, stood a girl, only of maybe 20 years of age. He stood over her; he was not as stealthy as he wished to be so he simply stood still. He listened to the forest around him, and her, and simply watched her for a while. A rabid wolf rumbled in the bushes across the clearing. The girl did not know of this disruption so she simply continued through the area slowly, sheepishly. The moonlight hit her face just as she turned to him.
The werepyre whimpered, just loud enough to alert the girl.
The wolf lunged.
The werepyre lunged.
Before the girl understood her danger the werepyre was standing protectively over her. He was tackled and he rolled into the darkness of the forest, brawling with the wolf the entire way.
The werepyre, lets call him Kack, had rolled purposely. For some reason he did not want the girl to see him, he did not want her to look upon his horrible fur and fangs.
He clawed the wolf to death; he clawed at it after its death. He vented all his rage, and fear, into the blows.
The girl could hear his savage beating; she could here the tearing of skin.
Kack still beat at it, until his rage subsided. Before he understood what he was doing her shoved the wolf meat into his fanged maw. He tasted the flesh and blood and savored it. Once he swallowed and realized what he had done bile rose in his throat. He made a quite heaving sound until the moment had passed.
All was silent.
The girl stood there for what seemed like ages, she stood as still as a petrified stone. The curiosity tore at her as the claws of Kack tear at himself. Until she could take it no longer.
She padded over to the bush they had rolled into and parted the leaves.
What she saw appalled her and fascinated her.
Kack crouched over the unrecognizable body of the wolf and his muzzle and hands were colored dark red with the blood of the forest beast.
Kack knew that this woman was the intruder, this woman was the trespasser.
He welcomed her with open arms.
She stood with her hand to her mouth and breathed slowly.
Why had she wandered into this forest? She wondered.
The beast stood up and reached a hand out, as if to grab onto the last bit of hope.
“H-h-help… H-help m-me.” He said in slow and unpracticed tones.
Then the beast side took over, the hunger. The animal stole over him.
He jumped through the bushes, and tried the grasp her fleeting robe.
He shouted something unintelligible and gurgled. His unnatural naturalist side bounded after her.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:42:39)

She ran away from the beastly monster chasing after her. She bit her lip to prevent from screaming, knowing that she could be easily found nonetheless. She wore a sword, at her waist, and she was one of the best alchemists in her village. She lived far from here, at least 4 miles, but she had wandered here in search of some of the wilder reagents.
She was also one of the most beautiful of her village. She wore a long braided ponytail that reached down to her slender waist. She was slim with a pale face, which had only become paler in her flight from the monstrosity, and she was only more beautiful by the detailed muscles her sword training brought upon her.
She flew through leaf-coated branches, until she came upon a deep, dark, river. She could smell the sulfur of the river, and she could see the fish swim about in its pacing folds. She could not out-swim the, what she had assumed to be, werewolf. The river was fast pacing and wide.
So she simply drew her sword and turned to the beast. She could not see it yet, but she could hear it fast-coming. She could hear heavy panting and the snapping of twigs.
She had downed at least six potions and prayed to any god that came to mind.
She knew she would not survive this encounter.
Kack burst from the bushes, and came walking to her, staying just outside of sword reach.
He knew she would be desperate if she wished to survive, so she might try to achieve an unfair strike, upon him.
“I-I-I… wish t-to speak w-w-w-with you… g-girl.” Kack said in common.
“I speak not with the foul creations of the dark.” She said righteously, if not nervously.
Kack took a step forward and was met with a savage blow with a sword.
At his fatal point his animal took over him.
He lunged at her, this she did not expect. He clawed the air, and snapped his gruesome maw at her. But every blow he launched met with nothing but a slap of the sword.
He is not the beast I expected; his movements are slow and out of shape. She thought to herself.
She went through one of the routines and had the wolf-man on his knees in a second.
But this is not the beast she was fighting.
This was but a boy, younger than herself. A strikingly handsome boy at that.
“R-run me through!” Kack pleaded to her; his hope of redemption was far from him now.
She saw the blood on his mouth, and hands, and the tears in his flesh, but she saw just a boy, nonetheless. She could do no such thing to just a boy.
“Stand.” She said, she used a commanding voice.
He rose uselessly to his feet.
Kack had coarse black hair, of which was unclean and unkempt, and in some places stained with blood.
This girl, lets call her Lavln, was surprised at herself for these next words, from her.
“You wished to talk, let us talk.” She said. Upon the departure of the night she felt safe to say no harm would form from him.
So they sat and he spoke of his life, and what he sought from her.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:44:35)

Now what was it that Kack sought, so deeply?
He wanted the girl to help him destroy the master werepyre, the one who had infected him.
“I do not believe I can help you.” Lavln said. She picked up his hand and begun to stand. She had begun to care for the young boy; she had come to think highly of him. He urged her to sit.
“Ah, but you can! All I need you to do is keep my wild side under-check while I slay the beast!”
“How shall I do that?” She asked, reseating. She still held the young mans hand, she enjoyed his embrace.
“Remind me who I am. When I change… I am still me; I am just overcome… just a little.” He said.
She picked up his other hand and pulled him close.
“I will do this.” She said. “For you and only you.”
“Great!” He exclaimed. “You can leave for your village and return to-“ He was cut short by an overwhelming kiss. He did not shy away or retreat, although he would be helpless to the woman’s grip, and would not be able to escape if she choose, but instead he returned her kiss with the same vigor. They lie on the grass for a while, showing affection in the eldest of manner.

Lavln returned to her village. It was already late afternoon and she was exhausted, from not unknown causes. She returned to her home and slept soundly until the morning.
Not a usual sleep, either.
A satisfied, deep, dreamless sleep.

Kack began to sprout hair from his hands and arms.
He sat on the grass bed, right where she left him. His finger nails elongated and pointed. He began to scratch his thigh excessively. He still did not notice the transformation, he was lost somewhere else. His bones began to clack and scrape. This is when he discovered he was changing once more.
“OHHH… I-I d-d-detest this foul g-game.” Kack moaned. He began feeling excruciating pain.
His joints began bending; he developed an entirely new joint in his legs. He toppled over in pain, crying out a wolfish howl.
“One more day until freedom!” Kack cried out in a beastly tone. “One more day until I can be done!”
He rolled over again and again, feeling his very insides twist and bend.
“Lavln!” He howled.

Lavln heard his call, right in the back of her mind, she pitied him.
She would not run to him though. She knew what he was now; she knew she could not help until the morrow.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:45:40)

It was the next day.
Lavln felt it as an eternity of endless moans and howls.
But, she had made it through, now she would wait once more, until the afternoon when she would go to him. This was when she realized she was nauseas and, though she hated to admit it, her stomach looked a little sized.
“I most of had some bad schozzberrys.” Lavln said to no one in particular. “Too many bad schnozzberrys…” She mumbled under her breath, regarding her stomach with a scowl.
She remembered her time with Kack; she remembered his soft skin and warm embrace.
Kack. She thought remembering her upset stomach, her large upset stomach.
“Oh, no.” She said to herself, fainting onto her bed.

Lavln awoke to find it past time to leave.
But she could not bring herself to leave, she could not do it.
So she wouldn’t.
A month went by; still she left not for the young Kack’s home. She simply paced in around in her room. Contemplating what she would do.
I cannot live with such a child. Lavln thought.
Then a thought struck Lavln.
She would birth it with Kack. They could live together, just her, him and the child.
Yes, it would be perfect, it is best.

Kack paced back and forth in anger.
Why had she abandoned him? Why had she left him alone?
“I cannot take this!” Kack screamed at the sky.
He would kill himself.
Yes. On the descending full moon, he would take his own life.
Yes, it would be perfect, it is best.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:46:41)

A week before the descending full moon Lavln packed her things, to leave to live with Kack.
She packed all of her food, her clothes, even her pillows and blankets. She did not know what she might need, so she packed everything.
Lavln then left quietly in the deep night, trying to hide her shame in the darkness.
I am going to birth a were-child in the forest. Lavln thought to herself. It would be like birthing and raising a wolf.
She was walking into the woods, by now. It would take her until a little before dawn to reach Kack’s cave.

She was into her trek by only about 30 minutes when she began to sing the lullaby of her dead mother.

Sleep, love; forever sleep.
Your soul the night will keep.
Embrace the darkness deep.
Sleep, love; forever sleep.

It seemed, by the end of this song, that hours had passed. The sun was already rising, the night she sung of was dispelling. She could hear her echo’s throughout the forest, when she heard something foreign.
She heard a rumbling in the bushes.
“Lavln, how dare you!” The bushes seemed to rumble at her.
Kack came storming from said bushes.
“You said you would be back!” He screamed. Lavln could tell that he had just transformed back into himself. His hair was tangled and unkept. His loose clothing was torn, just barely covering his body.
He pulled a short sword from his stretched and dried belt.
He pointed the sword at the Lavln and then poked it at her.
“I don’t want to see you again.” He said flatly. “I want you to leave.”
Lavln tugged on her hair, she regarded her stomach with a grimace.
“I am pregnant with your child, Kack.” She said, wanting to tear the hair from her own head.
He regarded her stomach sternly, and then looked to her face, to see as if she where joking. He dropped the sword to his side.
“Indeed.” He said, with joy peeking on him, and then he realized his, and his sons, situation.
“We must kill this boy.” Kack said, his voice cracking.
“What?!” Lavln shouted, it echoed back to here again and again.
“Werepyrism is a terrible disease, it has destroyed my entire life, and it has made me feel like an exile animal.” Kack responded. His head now hung low and shamefully. “But tonight, just stay with me, Lavln. And tomorrow I will kill myself.”
She was aghast.
“You cannot know this is what the child wants!” Lavln screamed. “It is his, or her, life!”
“The child will live in silent agony. It will not end its pain until it becomes older. To long to wait.” Kack responded. His tone was soft, calming. “No, don’t cry. When we wake tomorrow, you will know what to do. Here, drink these.” He had some of her resist poison, and resist disease, potions in hand, and he was motioning them towards her.
“It will help, only slightly.” He added.
She was crying, but she stayed with him through the night.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:49:07)

Sometime in early morning, before the sun had made its appearance, Lavln woke in agony. She woke with a loud moan. Kack shot up beside her. He went into getting her into proper birthing positions.
“I-I know what I want to do, Kack.” Lavln moaned.
“I know, darling.” He spoke, rain started to splatter outside of their cave. “You told me in your sleep.” She had now begun birthing.
“It is what’s best…” She moaned.
Kack didn’t reply.

The child came out into the open arms of his father. Kack held a blanket around the babe, keeping him close to himself. Kack began to weep openly.
“Let me hold him.” Lavln spoke softly. Kack wiped him off and handed the babe to Lavln.
“Ohhh…” She moaned softly. “What is your surname, Kack? Just for reference.”
The rain continued to fall harder.
“Felarian. Kack Felarian.” He responded, he was preparing to take the babe, to do what no father should do.
“Gavon, darling. Gavon Felarian.” She said to him, looking up, and deep into Kacks’ soul. “That is his name.” Kack did not want her to name the child.
“Oh, Kack, look into those glorious eyes!” She shouted. Kack knew that if he did so that he could not do what he must. Kack attempted to take the child.
“It is time, dear. He will change soon. His first transformation will seal his fate. Nightfall is coming, hand me the babe.” He reached for the child once more. She drew her sword.
“You will not take this child!” She said in her knightly voice. “He has a right to live! Maybe he won’t change! Maybe he will stay this way forever! I drank all of the potions; he is only half your tainted blood!” She got up from her lying position, and made a few feinted sword swipes.
“Nightfall approaches, then he and I will both change! Then you will see the error of your ways!” He lunged at her, hands grasping for the babe. Then darkness descended upon the forest, upon the cavern, upon Kack. He cried out and Lavln ran for the back of the cave.
Somewhere here there was a trap-door of stone; it would lead into a small closet.
“Lavln, how dare you!” Where did she remember those words?
She found the door and swung it open, hopping inside. She then slammed the door shut. The babe had not changed. It was to late though; Kack would not listen to reason.
Lavln set the babe down and pulled from her purse a bottle of orange liquid, she threw it at where the stone door met the solid stone wall, just when the acid hit and melted the two stone together, a loud bang hit the door.
She picked up the babe and sat in the back of the closet when another band hit, this caused dust to fall to the floor. She began to sing a lullaby to the child.

Sleep, love; forever sleep.
Your soul the night will keep.
Embrace the darkness deep
Sleep, love; forever sleep.

An idea struck.
Lavln went to center floor and begun punching her raw hand into the stone. Her hand began to bleed, and bone made an appearance, but the stone gave before she did. A section of the stone broke into pieces, and revealed dirt. She began digging into the dirt, developing a small divot. She placed the babe into the hole, put a straw into the child’s mouth and filled the hole, with dirt.
She then put stone slabs and rocks on the dirt to appear as if no disturbance had occurred.
Either the sneev-moles would find the child, or the child would die. It was better than the chances Kack promised. She broke a potion of no-scent onto the stone guise.
The trap door broke just then.
The beast rolled in, snarling and growling, this was not Kack, or if it was he was not happy.
Kack slashed Lavln down. He sniffed about, but smelled nothing.
“Lavln… how dare you.” The monstrosity spoke.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:51:01)

Beginning


The child sat in the hole for about an hour.
But, as predicted, the sneev-moles found him.
Sneev-moles were tiny green men, with incredible noses, of which they could smell out a lonesome babe from a mile away. They dug with their clawed hands, and with their feet. They were also creatures of the Stones’ Aet.
The Stones’ Aet was a city deep down in the worlds’ stone. Arachnef’s resided their, controlled the majority of the city. Sneev-moles, dark dwarves, dark elves, and pack rats also lived there.
The sneev-moles chattered in their quick, undecipherable, language. All the while the babe, Gavon, stared up at them with his strange, greenish yellow eyes. They had obviously decided upon something, because one nodded and the other said a word of agreement. They picked up the child and sped down their tunnels.
Gavon did not smile at the ride, or laugh at the strange faces. He lie in the sneev-mole’s arms, solemn and cold, as if he knew what had befallen on him and his parents.
They jumped and twisted down dirt and stone hallways, taking every chance to bump and discomfort the child.
They sneev-moles burst from the tunnel, they were speeding through, into the open air. They began falling at a rapid pace. From this angle one could see the entirety of the Stones’ Aet.
One could see the tall, broken, stone buildings. One could see the lost children and the half spider, half human men and woman scrambling about. One could see the pack-rats attempting to sell their things to the passing dark races.
Then one would realize they were still falling.
The group landed on a pile of 3, or so, mattresses. On these mattresses slept an Arachnef child and a pack-rat.
The group bounced up and down of the mattress. Then the first sneev-mole stepped off the pile and his partner, the baby carrier, followed. Once again the sneevils spoke in their chattering language. They walked through a large road between large stone buildings. The streets were cluttered with spider-men fighting, merchant pack-rats, and dark dwarves pounding away on steel.
All of them speaking at once.
The sneevils took the child to a low broken-down house, where an old Arachnef woman sat in a chair, watching the deep world turn about her. The sneevils spoke quickly to her, obviously about the child, and she nodded, taking all of it in, and judging it accordingly.
“Give it to me.” She said in a kind tone, the sneevils acted accordingly.
She cradled the child and fed it harreat milk. The child knew of nothing better so he drank all of the milk she gave him.
The sneev-moles went away.
The Arachnef was trying to think of a name for the child when she felt a roll of parchment, in the child loose blanket-diaper.
“Gavon Kack Felarian.” She said with a shrug to the child. “It doesn’t roll of the tongue, but it may on a human one.” She took the child inside of her broken house and nursed it.





3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:52:02)

Six Years Later.


The six year old Gavon Felarian ran through the streets.
He had been told by mother to get food for himself, it is what he intended to do. He ran up to the pack-rats stalls, and tried to steal some bread, or even spider meat. He was whipped by some, those who saw his attempted thievery. But this punishment was not new to him, so he continued on without a flinch. He climbed up stalls, and low buildings, to get a better look-out of things. This day he saw no chance at food, so he climbed down. There had been many days, sometimes a week, when he lived on only an ounce of spider meat and a little bit of mead. This was going to be one of those days. He was walking back home, narrowly dodging the piecing legs of Arachnef’s, when an old dark dwarf called him into an ally. So Gavon went ahead and followed him.
“Are ya’ hungggry, boy?” The dark kin asked, in rough, but understandable, Arachnen.
“Yes, of course.” Gavon responded. In his earlier years, Gavon had learned to speak fluent Arachnen.
“I ‘av a proposition for ya’.” He said, he grinned wickedly. “If ya’ kill this bastard child ‘ere, I give ya’ a plate of the best of food.” He said, out of a dark corner walked a confused Arachnef child, no doubt Gavon’s age. Two of the dark dwarves’ friends came out to tell the child what he had told Gavon.
“Ye’ eat like a king or ye’ starve like a beggarrr.” The dark dwarf said, grinning from ear to ear.
The other two dwarves gave the Arachnef child a long, cruel bladed, knife. And then the other dark dwarf gave Gavon a knife of the same kind.
“Fight.” The lead dwarf, the dwarf who had spoke with Gavon said; he was already a safe distance away.
The young, hungry, Arachnef charged Gavon. Gavon had already made up his mind; he would force the child into submission, and then eat.
“Simple enough.” Gavon muttered under his breath, returning the charge.
The two children clashed blades. They were awkward and clumsy with the blades, but they fought with determination. Each child had their own advantage. The Arachnef had six legs (He would grow the other two during adolescence.) so it would be hard to gain ground on him. But, Gavon had only two, and he was as thin as parchment, to he could maneuver better.
The two slammed blade on blade again and again. They were only children; they knew not how to fight. Gavon ducked under one of his enemies’ swings, and slashed at his legs, at this the dark dwarves laughed. But, in response the Arachnef swung a dirty punch with his opposite hand.
Gavon did not know what he had done until he had done it.
The child swung, and Gavon spun his dagger at his side. The blade dug deep into the spider-boys hand, nearly chopping it off completely. Gavon was appalled at what he’d done.
“I’m so sor-“ Gavon was cut short by the blade of the Arachnef’s against his.
The battle begun again.
Gavon had forgotten his remorse when the child began fighting again, surely the spider was not hurt that bad if he continued to fight.
During the fight Gavon had also clipped off one of the boys legs, but the Arachnef kept fighting, so Gavon kept fighting.
Every blow the Arachnef launched was met with a block, and a new cut to add to his newest collection.
Then the Arachnef fell.
Gavon pounced upon the boy and, before he knew what he was doing, dug the dagger deep into the child’s breast.
The Arachnef’s legs kicked and squirmed, and then lie still, and cold.
The dwarves laughed evilly, one began to applaud. Gavon was proud.
Then Gavon was on his stomach in the mud.
His face was drowned in the dirt and mud, and whips cracked into his back, three by three.
The resounding laughs faded into unconsciousness



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:53:20)

Gavon woke to find himself in the gutter of a street. The back of his clothes were ripped and torn, his callused back was bleeding in some areas. He had dried mud stuck to his clothing, and face, and clumps of it were tangled in his thick black hair.
Gavon was literally lying in the gutters of the street. A few trickles of watery mud and blood surfed down such gutters. Some of the pack-rats trampled on him, paying him no heed. The sight of a bloodied child was normal in the Stones’ Aet.
He knew where he was in an instant; he knew this by looking to the tall tower that stood at the center of the city. He was by the area he had been mentally molested by the dark elven wizard, that one time.
He got up, wiped himself off, and returned hungry to his mother.


On Gavon’s way home, he stopped by a pond; one filled with water spiders, and frogs, and washed himself off.
He mainly washed his hair, because that is the part that absorbs the dirt and grime of the world.
He sung a simple chorus that he remembers in the back of his mind, it sounded like a lullaby, while he washed. He sang it only to the ears of the spiders, for no one was around this part.
He ran his small fingers through his thick, coarse, hair. Even at this age it was long. His hair stretched down to his shoulders.
He continued to wash his young, filthy body.

Gavon continued his walk to his home. The streets were still bustling.
He then came upon his meek home, but did not see his mother out front. So he went inside.
There lay his late mother, a dagger wound piercing her old heart.
Gavon cried out, and then he noticed the group of four dark elves. Gavon knew that robbery, and murder, was common in the Stones’ Aet, but he had never thought it might happen to them, or his mother.
The elven rogues flipped out of a hole in the wall, while Gavon broke down at his fallen mothers’ side.
“Mother!” He cried. Gavon flung himself on her, sobbing wildly.
The agony cracked the poor boys heart. All the years of love for this one woman was all lost in this one minute.
Rage replaced the agony in his heart.
Gavon pulled the rusty iron knife from his and his mothers’ heart and stormed outside.
He passed the falling apart doorway, and saw the corrupt world around him.
Just as he walked outside he saw an Arachnef cut down a dwarf. Gavon walked pass it. Without breaking pace, he came up to the Arachnef, and dug the blade deep into his breast.
The spider-man fell to the ground, he was in aching agony, but he lived. Gavon wished he didn’t.
No one rushed over to help the man, which was the way of the Stones’ Aet.
Gavon kept walking down the street. The world bustled about him.


Gavon had just walked into an alley. He remembered this place somehow.
But from where?
Then he saw it. He saw the shriveled, dry, corpse of a child Arachnef.
Inside of its breast he saw the one fatal blade that had turned the child so. A plate of rotten food was tossed on the child, some of it half eaten.
Gavon pulled the bloody knife from the child and held it in front of his face.
He took one hand and held of his bangs, and he took the other and cut the hair from his head.
He did this with all of his head.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:54:59)

Two Years Later.

The eight year old Gavon darted back and forth through the shadows.
He held the knife he had cut his hair with in his strong, callused hand. In the other end of the alley he saw his target.
The fat pack-rat stood at the other end of the alley. He had two dark dwarven body guards, both held large great swords. Gavon jumped from can to bucket to house to stall; all the while he went unnoticed. Gavon saw the hungry eyes of other assassins. They all went for the same target.
Gavon would reach it first.
He began to scream loudly and bound across great distances. The dwarves now noticed the shouting child, and began to draw their swords.
Too late.
Gavon jumped from a roof over head, This roof was on at least a three story building. He would have been badly hurt, had his blade in the chest of a dwarf softened his fall.
The blade bit deep into the dwarf’s heart, allowing him to bleed to death instead of dying quickly.
Gavon recovered from his fall and bounded to the next dwarf, to this one he simply dug the blade into the mans forehead.
He then did not retract the blade, but, instead, he drew the dwarf’s short sword, from his thigh, and made a feigning swing at the rat.
The pack-rat merchant threw a bag of food, and a bag of jingling gold coins, into Gavon’s palm.
The rat then ran away. But this wasn’t enough for Gavon, no. Gavon threw the short sword after the fleeing rat. It met with his back, and the rat tumbled into a heap.
Gavon walked away, tossing the gold off into the shadows, for the other assassins, but keeping to food to himself.
Gavon spun his dagger around, in his palm. He had become sufficient on nothing but himself, and his blade. He had also found, on one of his assassination runs, that he was very skilled in sword-play.
Gavon could hear swords clinging in the alley, of the assassins fighting over the gold, while he walked out onto the street. The cold, dank, air penetrated Gavon’s flesh as he walked through the streets of the Stones’ Aet.
Gavon turned his head and saw a very wide, low building. The clashing of blades resounded from inside. Gavon walked to the entry way and saw a rotten board, which said:
Stones’ Aet Warrior Academy.
Gavon knew he had nothing else to do.
So he walked into the low building.
Inside he saw large Arachnef’s battling each other, most of them were wielding dual blades. He saw dark elves doing graceful battle against one another; most of these were sporting long, black, katana’s. He even saw some sneev-moles battling with pick-axes.
They all seemed to be in perfect organization. No one was out of bounds, no one was battling dirty.
Gavon even saw some children of his age fighting each other.
He rushed up to a tall human man, who looked in charge, and said:
“Get me with those kids.” Gavon said, pointing to the children in battle. “I want to learn.” He added.
The tall man laughed. He did not say anything, he simply handed Gavon a short sword, just his size, and shoved him over with them.
“Then learn, kid.” He said.
I came up to the strongest, most skilled looking, Arachnef child and began battling.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:56:15)

Two Years Later.

The ten year old Gavon Felarian danced around the 15 year old Barvig.
Barvig did not know what to do; he was trapped within his own attacks. Cuts and slices brought him to his knees, his head would have been floor-bound, had the academy master not stopped Gavon.
The small crowd cheered, although the more brave ones jeered.
The battle had not lasted long, the second Barvig stepped into the ring he was bombarded with skilled and precise attacks.
The small crowd was made up of the residents of the warrior’s academy, and they had all come out to see Gavon’s weekly show. Although Gavon did this daily, the scheduled arena date was every week.
Gavon held his short sword in front of his face, and his now growing back hair, and bowed.
He did not pant, or breathe heavily, he was not tired, the fight with the trained teenager was fairly easy.
The crowd of warriors began to dissipate, for that was the last fight of the week. Gavon was about to leave the arena room, and go back to his non-stop training, when the academy master stopped him.
“I want you to train with the adults, today.” He said quietly, pointing to the door on the opposite side of the room. “It will help with your training.” That was all Gavon needed to hear, he headed for the adult training room. Gavon had been training in this academy for two years, and he had already surpassed most here.
Gavon walked towards the adult training room, going through some simple sword routines as he walked. He hit the door and was met with jeers.
“This room is not for children, warrior ” One of them sneered.
“You’re right, it’s not. And it never will be.” Gavon responded, flying into battle with one of the adult warriors, the warrior was on his knees in moments.
“Now let’s practice.” Gavon said, holding his sword out for everyone to see.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:57:21)

Two Years Later.

Gavon was the best in his class, in every other class. He had already learned how to fight like a champion, spell with ease, and read with ease. He was the dynamo of the Stones’ Aet. People recognized him, and the assassination attempts came less than before.
But Gavon still hated this city.
Gavon sought to be free from its hateful clutches. He belonged to another world than this one, another world entirely.
Gavon left the academy secretly. He had learned all they could teach him, so he would find better places. He came outside, using his earlier years of assassinations to mask his escape.
He got three young, prime, sneev-moles and threatened their lives.
“If you do not come with me, I will kill you and all you know.” Gavon said, his recently acquired long sword daring one of them to run.
“We follow you, master.” One of them said in shaky Arachnen. They, as three, pulled out random digging equipment, and the group set off.
Gavon did not know where they where going, but he was leaving the opposite way he had came. Once he reached the outskirts of the Stones’ Aet he looked up and saw, in the sheer stone wall, an entrance to a tunnel.
“It’s my only shot.” Gavon muttered.
Gavon whipped a pick-axe out of one of the sneevils backpack and dug it into the rock wall.
“You stay here; I will climb this wall and throw a rope down, for you.” He said to the sneevils, a spell of obedience intertwined with his silky words. He hoisted himself up to the axe and used it as a foot-hold. He kicked off the handle of the axe and pulled it out, burying it in the wall above him.
This went on for about 10 minutes, before he reached the entrance to the tunnel. He climbed up into the tunnel and threw a rope down, tying a loop in it and nailing the loop into the stone with the pick-axe.
The sneev-moles climbed up the rope and said words of thank you. Then they began walking. Gavon knew they could lead him through these tunnels, wherever they went, for they could speak to the stone, hear its guiding words.
“Which way, boys?” Gavon asked. They had reached a fork in the tunnel. Out of the right passage they could hear rushing water. Out of left passage they could hear tumbling rocks and stone sliding on stone.
“Well since that tunnel-“ Gavon said, pointing to the left tunnel. “Sounds like a rock golem eating a carriage of crying children, I think we should go right.” Gavon said. He started off right. The lead sneev-mole stopped him.
“No, this way!” He exclaimed, jumping wildly and pointing left. “It only route slider!” He added.
Gavon had no idea what he was talking about, but he trusted sneev-moles to know about tunnels, so he followed the three sneevils.

The tunnel was a short one. They reached the end of it by just about ten minutes. Gavon stepped out to where the tunnel he stood in fell off into a wide trench. Gavon looked left and saw the fleeting tail of a giant worm.
“Route Slider.” One of the sneev-moles said proudly. Apparently the worm had eaten a large portion of stone, making a large tunnel.
Gavon dropped of into the trench, catching the sneevils as they followed.
“Do we follow the ‘Route Slider’ or do we continue traversing the tunnel, up there?” Gavon asked the lead sneevil, pointing to the continuation of the tunnel they were just in.
“Follow slider. “ One of them said, the lead sneevil nodded his agreement. Gavon nodded and they follow the tunnel the worm had left for them.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:58:28)

They followed the tunnel the route slider left for them for two months. But for their entire trek they did not catch up with the worm once. There was little conversation passed between the group, there was nothing to be said. Also, Gavon accidentally murdered one of the sneevils. This was soon forgotten, though. Most of the trek they ate giant spider meat, and some of the rock-eating grubs, who had made cubbies in the wall. Gavon told the story of his life, and the remaining sneevils listened attentively.
“It is my birthday in a week.” Gavon told his sneevil friends. Gavon had been able to lift his spell over them; because the group had become such good friends it was not needed.
“Happy birt’ day.” One of them said, the sneevil who said this name was Bivirp’Avou. “How old?” He queried. Gavon cocked his head in remembrance. It was fogy, his age was, but he somehow remembered it.
“13 years of age.” Gavon replied, swallowing spider meat. The lead sneevil, Havviyre’Ku, stopped in his tracks, halting the entire group.
“What is it?” Gavon said, dropping into a defensive position and drawing his slender silver long sword.
“Route Slider stopped.” Ku said, also getting into a defensive position, drawing his shovel. Whatever stopped the worm might want to stop them. The group of three crept forward. Light brightened the tunnel. The light was dull, and faded, but the group was used to absolutely no light, in their eyes, so they recoiled. The air thinned. The usual dankness and stale smell dissipated.
They now could see the tail of the Route Slider. It had indeed stopped.
They could also see over the worm, they could see the sight of a city. A tall, dusty, spider-webby, city. An Arachnef stood upon a tall building.
Home, sweet home. Gavon thought.





3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 19:59:40)

The group sat there staring at the back of the worm, for a while. But then they realized that the worm was approaching.
Slowly but surely the worm reversed. Then Gavon realized, as it picked up speed, Gavon saw that it had spikes, facing outward, attached to its entire backside.
“Sneevils! Dig!” Gavon shouted, pushing them towards a wall, encouraging them to dig a crevice for them to stand in, while the worm passed. They began hammering and shoveling, not fast enough.
The worm began picking up speed.
“Go! Go! Go!” Gavon encouraged.
The group jumped into the crevice, the two sneevils crouched in front of Gavon, in the niche. Here the worm came.
Then the worm passed them by.
But not without taking Ku with it.
The worm sped down the tunnel, and impaled Ku on a savage spike. Avou screamed out the loss of his friend. Once the worm passed, Avou kneeled down and mourned.
“Come, Avou.” Gavon said. “We must continue on. A new city lies in wait right there.” Gavon pointed. He also mourned for Ku, but, over the years, he had built an emotional wall.
“No.” Avou said, standing up and walking back the way they came. “I-I go home.” He said.
“But I need you, Avou!” Gavon yelled after him. Avou kept walking.
“Goodbye, Avou. Thank you.” Gavon said longingly. The sneev-mole did not turn back or wave, or say anything in farewell, he just walked.
Gavon turned to the new city.
His new life just began.
Or was this his old life that just repeated itself?





3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:02:02)

Gavon stepped off ledge that over-looked Ravenloss. He fell a good 50 feet, but landed in a pile of garbage.
Ravenloss was not a lot like the Stones’ Aet. It was indeed old and dirty, dark and dank. But, this city was not bustling with people, all trying to murder and ransack. Gavon seldom saw someone, most anyone he saw was a shady figure, or a hungry pair of eyes, watching his every step.
Gavon heard dripping water in the distance.
Drip, drip, drip…
Such a sound was unheard of in the Stones’ Aet, a sound like that would be overruled by the sounds of chattering and blade on blade. Not here.
All of Gavon’s steps seemed to be booming in his ears, so he simply stopped moving. Gavon’s baggy tunic and scrambled pirate garb swung in the nonexistent breeze. He felt out of place and clumsy.
Gavon pulled out a piece of an air-plant that glowed brightly in the dark. He hung the plant around his neck. The plant did nothing to dispel the looming darkness.
Gavon walked down dark alley-ways. Every time he saw someone he would run up and ask them the name of this place, but they simply told him off and continued to mope.
Gavon looked to his right and saw nothing but empty alleys and abandoned buildings. He looked to his left and saw a peasantry figure striding toward him. The young boy, no more than 13, walked right up to Gavon. The boy donned a loose sack cloth shirt. He had a short sword strapped to his right hip, and a broad sword tied to his left waist, this sword seemed to glow. His rugged brown hair seemed to also flow in the nonexistent breeze. His blue eyes penetrated into Gavon’s flesh. Gavon could feel his gaze piecing him apart.
“Hello, stranger.” The boy said. He had these strange gauntlets upon both of his hands, and wrists.
“I am Nesanel Wolfblade, of the ancient Wolfblade family.” He bowed, holding a hand in front of his stomach. His slight muscles rippled throughout his body. “Your name?” Nesanel queried. Gavon searched the boy; he seemed to be only a kindly young child, what was he doing here?
“Gavon Felarian, of the long dead Felarian family.” Gavon responded in shaky human language. Gavon showed no outward emotion, at the remembrance of his mother’s death.
“An honor.” Nesanel said brightly, extending a callused and strong hand. Gavon took it and shook it loosely.
“Pleasure is mine, to be sure.” Gavon was over-active with his politeness.
“Welcome to Ravenloss, my friend.” Nesanel said. He seemed harmless, except his worked and toned muscles, wonder how he got those, so Gavon asked him all of his questions.
“Why does no one come out to see the stranger?” Gavon asked. He was truly interested in this.
“Because they would rather kill you.” Nesanel said flatly. Nesanel tapped his gauntlet on Gavon’s chest, nearly sending Gavon into battle action. “I can show you around.” Nesanel noticed Gavon’s unease and chuckled.
“Be at ease, friend.” He said, not helping Gavon’s unease. Nesanel leaned in. “They don’t attack groups.” He added quietly.
“Then show me around.” Gavon said. He re-sheathed his sword, which had been out in a second, when Nesanel touched him, with a resounding click. Nesanel did not seem intimidated by Gavon, like everyone else was.
Nesanel threw his arm over Gavon, and they walked.

Nesanel showed Gavon the old, very old, great hall. He showed him the card shoppe, which seemed so out of place here. He showed him everything. At the end of their tour, they settled down right where they had begun.
“And here is the SoulWeaver Academy.” Nesanel pointed to the door he had walked to Gavon from.
“SoulWeaver?” Gavon asked. Nesanel motioned him to follow him. They moved into the door.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:03:50)

Once Nesanel and Gavon hit the door Gavon eyes seared.
Bright lights penetrated Gavon’s eyes. Gavon gasped in horror, Nesanel just looked at him like he was a madman.
Gavon staggered back, back into Ravenloss. Realization spread across Nesanel’s face, he shut the door and ran back to Gavon.
“I’m sorry, Gavon… I’m sorry…” Nesanel’s voice faded out.
Gavon blacked out.

Gavon woke up to find himself in a very, very, dark room. Even Gavon could not see through the darkness here.
“What…” Gavon rumbled, confusion edging on panic.
Nesanel Wolfblade sat at Gavon’s side, those strange gauntlets glowing, but Gavon could not see that.
“I’m sorry, Gavon.” Nesanel’s voice rang in Gavon’s ears.
Gavon shot up.
“Where are you, Wolfblade?” Gavon shouted. Gavon’s head shot from side to side, he even checked behind himself.
“I am right here!” Nesanel said, he stood up and stood in front of Gavon. Gavon’s blank look made Nesanel confused.
In the darkness of the room master soulweaver sat, his worry increasing.
“Nesanel, I am blind.” Gavon spoke, softly. He got out of bed, shakily. ”I can not see my hand in front of my face.” Nesanel sat down and pondered the situation. His large broad sword glowed at his side. The sword vibrated lightly when its owner held it, so Nesanel lie his hand on it, to calm his nerves.
The master soulweaver, his name was Ravion, was now helping Gavon to his feet, and inspecting his eyes.
A tiny light glowed in each one, his irises paled.
“How do you feel? In your limbs, and body, I mean.” The master queried.
“I feel fine.” Gavon responded, if not quietly.
Nesanel had called Master Ravion, one of his close friends, over whenever Gavon had blacked out. The master had looked the boy over, and said he was a healthy boy, if not a little to tough, for a child his age should be.
“He would be fine, to join our ranks.” Ravion had told Nesanel.
Nesanel was the best in his soulweaving class, in any class. He was near the edge of replacing the master, once he passed away. Nesanel was a god with a blade, even at his young age, and he was skilled in the art of battle strategy. He had only recently come to Ravenloss, to learn with the Weavers, after his parents were killed by unknown forces.
Ravion took Gavon out into the grand hall; Gavon pushed him away every time Ravion tried to help the boy walk. Nesanel followed them.
Ravion put gauntlets, each sporting a long blade, on Gavon’s hands and asked Gavon to fight him.
Gavon trusted in Ravion’s abilities, he could remember hearing about them while he slept, so he thrust a hand out in Ravion’s direction. He was blocked.
Gavon did a triple stab, and finished it off with a slash; every blow met not flesh, but a substance that seemed as hard as metal, but made no clinging sound.
Gavon began to go through simple routines, every blow was reflected, and Gavon gained some new scars. Then the real battle began.
Gavon began swinging his blades in quick, practiced, tones. Every shot was deflected. The swinging of the blades began making songs as they flew through the air. Then they began a combat dance. Gavon could hear the near silent steps and slides of the master, and he struck accordingly.
Gavon launched another stab and this one met.
The blade punched through the gauntlet and into the flesh of his forearm.
Ravion jerked away.
“I yield.” Ravion said.
“Impressive.” Nesanel said approvingly. Nesanel was even more skilled than Gavon, but for a new trainee, he had done well.
“You believe so?” Gavon asked, he turned directly towards Nesanel, when he asked this. His pale eyes bore into him. Nesanel was taken aback by what he saw in those eyes, the pain and suffering of Gavon’s days.
Nesanel nodded.
“Why have you tested me so?” Gavon queried, turning those lifeless eyes upon Ravion.
“You seek refuge, yes?” Ravion asked, his short gray hair falling over his green eyes. “You would be allowed to train as a Soul Weaver under Nesanel.” Nesanel looked at Ravion; he was surprised at his decision to let Gavon train with him.
Once again Gavon went turned to Nesanel.
“Lesson one, master.” Gavon said.
Gavon went with Nesanel into the training room and Nesanel taught gave the basics of Soul Weaving, its history, and even give him gauntlets.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:04:58)

“This one.” Gavon said, picking up the small stone.
Nesanel had lain out an array of Spirit Looms in front of Gavon. Gavon could feel the power of each one, he could hear the Looms speak to him, and all said different things. He picked up a dark tinted Loom and held it in front of his face. Gavon heard the loom speak of evil and shadows.
Nesanel nodded as he learned something about his newest friend.
Gavon tapped his fingernail lightly on the side of the darkness loom. It responded by talking louder and sweeter.
“Indeed.” Nesanel said. He took the loom from Gavon and tucked it away in a pouch. Nesanel’s light looms flickered and brightened. He grimaced at the words of the loom. Nesanel himself used a darkness loom in his left hand, although he used it for good, and he wore a light loom in his right hand.
“Shall I use that one, to weave?” Gavon asked. Nesanel wanted to say that he couldn’t, but he knew it was his choice.
“If you wish.” Nesanel said. Gavon and Nesanel had been practicing weaving for a few days now, Gavon had been practicing with the steel bladed gauntlets and with the trainee wind looms. Gavon had on the trainee wind gauntlets and he urged Nesanel to do battle with him once more.
“Let us train, Nesanel!” He said standing up and clapping his hands once.
“One day you will train yourself out, Gavon.” Nesanel stood up as well. He strapped his glowing sword to his waist and they walked from the room.
“What is that sword, anyway? I can feel its power vibrating against my skin, when I approach it.” Gavon asked as they walked through the halls and corridors of the Academy of Soul Weaving.
“It is a powerful talisman called the Blade of Twilight.” Nesanel replied. He put his hand to the hilt of his sword. “It was made by my father, a master blacksmith, and one of his close friends, an arch-mage of both darkness, and light. It is made from gold and obsidian. Runes snake down its silky black and gold surface.” They both stopped and fronted each other. “It was originally made for The King Alteon, but my father gifted me with it, after I was born. My father died soon after.” Nesanel began stroking the hilt of the blade, eyes filled with memories untold. Nesanel’s eyes glassed over. They began walking once more.
Gavon took off his gauntlets, and removed their wind looms. The reached the training hall and sat down, Nesanel put the darkness looms into his gauntlets.
Gavon put his gauntlets on and they began combat.
“Teach me how to weave!” Gavon shouted. They did unyielding battle for a good hour.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:06:12)

One Year Later.

Gavon’s spirit looms illuminated the darkness of Ravenloss. Though he had no use for such light, he knew it kept the monsters of the dark at bay.
Every day Gavon would take these walks through Ravenloss. He could feel the hungry eyes of the inhabitants of this place. The spiders shuffled and spun webs, the shadow children would appear and fade away into darkness. Sometimes Gavon would hear a scream off in the distance, and sometimes he would hear screams right in his own ears.
Then Gavon felt a heavier gaze, upon his flesh. The stare was like spider webs.
He spun towards the source, and he felt breathing upon his flesh.
“Good morning, Gavon.” The unfamiliar voice said, it was loud and grating in his ears.
“Has it been that long, already?” Gavon asked, mockingly. Gavon could feel the transition from day to night, and vice versa, even down here.
“Indeed.” The strange voice responded. Gavon could not hear his footsteps, but the next time the new apparition, he was behind him.
“Where does your moralities lie, Gaaavon.” The stranger stretched out his name; he tugged on Gavon’s hair. “For you wear a darkness loom, in your soul gauntlet.” Once more the voice was behind him. Gavon began to feel a soul weaver’s blade against his skin.
“Who are you?” Gavon asked, slapping the blade away. He felt the stranger try to manipulate his mind, but he held strong.
“I am just a messenger for the righteous Chaos Weaver.” He said, and then Gavon heard no more. He returned home. But he had no looms, in his gauntlet.

Gavon hit the door to the Soul Weaving Academy.
No blades glowed from his gauntlets, no gem was there. Gavon had realized this about half the way home. He was fuming, and all of the students and servants alike cowered in his wake.
“Nesanel!” Gavon shouted, and it echoed throughout the halls. Nesanel Wolfblade came bounding down the stairs, not in a way of excitement, or panic, he just usually did that.
“What?!” Nesanel was also fuming at Gavon’s careless shout. This was a place of peace and learning. “Why would you come barreling through the door yelling?” Nesanel came storming up to Gavon, looking as if he was about to punch him. Instead Gavon punched him.
Gavon shot right into his chest, and Nesanel expected his Soul Blades to pierce him. Instead, Nesanel was just pushed back.
He looked down and saw Gavon’s hands.
The tips of Gavon’s fingers were cut off, and his spirit looms were replaced with pieces of candy.
“Wha… Ga… What is this?” He stuttered, holding up Gavon’s hand. “Are you hurt?” Nesanel asked. It seemed a stupid question, but it had to be asked because Gavon seemed as fine as ever.
“No, I am not.” He said, the same wistfulness.
“Did this just happen, on your walk?” Nesanel asked. Gavon wanted to say something sarcastic, or bitter, for he had become both over the years, but instead he just nodded.
Ravion seemed to form, out of the shadows, and rush Gavon into a healing room.
He eased Gavon into a long bed.
Shadow seemed to flow from Gavon’s mutilated finger tips.
Darker spirits floated around him.
The small light in Gavon’s eyes turned dark. The room turned to shadow.
Gavon saw the world once more.
“Nesanel…” Gavon murmured. His eyes searched the room, tearing away all of its adorations.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:26:41)

Nesanel decided that it was his time to walk.
He left the Academy and began traversing the always night streets of Ravenloss. He did not see if Gavon was ok. He did not see if any even knew he left.
He just left.
The shady inhabitants of Ravenloss watched him walk, they moved with his moves. Skull adorned poles in some of these places, and it seemed some of the eyes watched said poles.
Nesanel turned to one of the poles, it was only a few feet from him, and it was planted firmly in the street.
The skull seemed to focus its hollow, black, eyes onto Nesanel. Below the eyes, in the skulls teeth, was a piece of candy, the same kind Gavon had in replacement of his looms.
Nesanel whipped out the Blade of Twilight, which illuminated the darkness, and seemed to deepen it. Nesanel held the large broad sword, with glowing runes snaking up and down it, and swung it in a wide arc, cutting the jaw from its skull, but leaving the skull it self intact.
Nesanel held up his strong hand and lightning snaked in and out of the skulls eyes and nose, while fire barraged the outer bone.
A stray bolt of fire hit the falling candy, melting away the wrapper. Wrapped in the dripping wrapper was a spirit loom.
Nesanel caught it and studied it.
This was Gavon’s loom, it seemed as it had been tainted with evil, violated with corruption. It was still a darkness loom, nonetheless. Nesanel flipped it and caught it. He would return it to Gavon, but he did not know the whereabouts of the second one.

Nesanel opened the door and saw Gavon standing there.
“Where is Academy Master, Ravion?” Nesanel queried. Gavon simply stood there, his eyes expressing a dark feel.
“Who knows?” Gavon sucked on a piece of candy.
“I found your sp-… Gavon? Can you see me?” Nesanel knew Gavon usually looked into you whenever you talked, but know he seemed to bore into Nesanel.
“Yes.” He replied. “It’s a Frostval miracle, isn’t it?” Gavon walked up to Nesanel and reached into his shoulder bag, pulling out his loom. Gavon heard its darker words.
Nesanel wanted to slap his hand away, refuse to give him his loom, but he did not. The candy crunched as Gavon chewed it.
“Where have you been?” Gavon asked calmly, sitting down in one of the ornate chairs of the grand hall. He began putting his spirit loom in his left hand.
“Taking a walk.” Nesanel was uncomfortable with Gavon’s mood, he wanted to take his head from his shoulders, but he would not do that to his new friend. “I believe the sun is falling, outside.”
Boom
“What was that?!” Nesanel pulled his sword out, Gavon jumped to his feet, causing a resounding jingle from his long sword. Gavon heard rock falling, stone sliding on stone, and the sound of stone of flesh.
“Oh, no!” Gavon shielded his head.
Nesanel drew his sword and sliced a small boulder, which was intent on falling on him, in half.
A large face burst through the wall of the grand hall.
Debris and rock flew everywhere, pulverizing all of the furniture, and nearly Nesanel and Gavon.
Through the dust and noise Nesanel stared at the giant ugly face of the intruder.
“What is that?!” Nesanel sliced a few more rocks.
“Route Slider!” Gavon responded. Gavon still remembered the fateful day when the Route Slider killed his friends, and almost killed him.
Ogres, who seemed to be riding the rock-eating worm, dismounted the route slider, and rushed into the rooms, halls, and Gavon and Nesanel.
The ogres shouted war cries and vulgar taunts, Nesanel cut down a few of them, but they kept coming.
“We must leave here!” Gavon shouted to Nesanel, using his one soul claw and his longsword in a deadly duo.
“This is where my life is, Gavon!” Nesanel shouted in response. He gave a primitive cry as he did a very impressive move with his soul claw.
“Then you can keep you life!” Gavon began moving to the door. “But not for long.” Gavon turned about and placed a palm to the door.
Nesanel held the Blade of Twilight high as it flared in shadow and light.
The door, and some of the wall around it, exploded outward. Nesanel looked behind him and saw Gavon’s eyes; he then beat a hasty retreat.
Nesanel caught up with Gavon, and turned around to launch a fireball into what remained of the Academy. The stone roof fell in.
“They would not come into Ravenloss, I believe.” Nesanel limped alongside of Gavon, who still wielded his sword.
“Where do we go now?” Blood ran down Nesanel’s dusty face. They stopped and faced each other.
“To the surface.” Gavon’s only 14 year old visage looked the same. Ravenloss seemed even quieter now. The tall shadows of the taller buildings hid, once more the hungry eyes. Nesanel re-sheathed his sword, Gavon did the same.
“Won’t you become truly blind?” Nesanel asked. He may also become blind as well, but maybe not, because the Stones’ Aet is darker that Ravenloss.
“Not if we ease into this transition.” Once again Gavon pulled out his glowing air plant. Nesanel stared at it in wonder. There was no more conversation; they walked toward the only exit Nesanel knew.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:28:21)

“Here.” In front of the duo was a large gate. This gate was made of wood, stone, and thick iron. Slashes and explosion marks marred this gate, but it still held up strong. It was held on large iron hinges. A magical purple glow surrounded it. Nesanel said that this was the only way out, to his knowledge.
“How do we get through it?” Gavon asked. Nesanel shrugged. Gavon charged the gate and began beating at it with his soul claw, and his long sword. Nesanel shrugged again and took his large broadsword from his waist. Nesanel made a few gashes, and marks.
But still the gate held strong.
The boys stopped and they heard a thick iron latch drop.
An iron slit opened, in the gate.
“Why do you beat at our door? Be you unholy Chaos Weavers?” The pair of eyes, peering at them through the slit, asked in a twisted version of Arachnen. Gavon barely spoke this form of language.
“Human language?” Gavon asked.
“WHAT?!” The eyes asked in human.
“We need to get through here, to get to the surface.” Nesanel stepped up and said. “And no, we are not Chaos Weavers.” Nesanel added nervously. A few other pairs of eyes opened up, to Gavon’s and Nesanel’s right, and left. The eyes seemed to be searching.
“Indeed.” The eyes said, and the slit closed. The boys heard another latch dropped, and then another, and then two more at once. Then a cranking, and then a loud boom.
The purple shield around the gate turned to red, as the eyes watching Gavon drew swords and soul claws. Gavon could see arrow points flashing.
“Come in, untrustworthys.” The same pair of eyes spoke. Then Nesanel and Gavon saw what lie beneath those eyes. The person had the upper body of a human, but the lower body of a spider.
They looked just like the Arachnef’s of the Stones’ Aet.
The first step they took into the gate, it slammed behind them and seven more iron latches took place. Cogs turned chains and held the gate shut.
Before the duo knew what had befallen, they where relieved of their weapons and patted down.
“Good. Now you have passed the gate of Rojroun. And if you where here to attack us, you would already be dead, in a second.” The voices of the shadows spoke.
Once the creatures grabbed the Blade of Twilight, it shocked their hands. Nesanel spoke a single word and the shock ceased.
Once the creature was shocked one arrow was released, a warning arrow.
The flaming arrow landed right between Nesanel’s feet.
A shuffling came from a tunnel in front of the duo; Gavon saw some of the people bow.
A warm looking human man approached them. His hands where decorated with silvery rings, and gold.
He wore a trench coat, with a brown tunic beneath. He wore long brown, cloth pants. He wore a brown hood, which left his head covered, but his face completely uncovered.
His hair was reddish-brown, and beneath it you could see his pale, callused, face. He bore a long scar across his cheek. He had to be over 20 years of age.
His soul weaver gauntlets shone a bright green down here.
The soul weaver walked right up to Gavon and Nesanel and spoke in a quiet, yet booming, voice.
“Welcome to the nation, children.” He made a sweeping gesture behind him. “I am Vae’njaece.” He held out his left hand to shake each boy’s hand.
Gavon stepped up to him.
“Me and my friend,” He pointed behind him. “Have come here to go to the surface, could you take us there?” Gavon skipped straight to the point, Vae’njaece admired that. Vae’njaece would treat Gavon in the same manner.
“The elevator, we run, is currently broken down. The elevator shaft has also caved in slightly.” Vae’njaece put his hand on Gavon’s shoulder. “We do have a steep tunnel in which you might be able to trek, but the journey would last about 3 months.” Vae’njaece finished. “If you abide by my rules, maybe, you could stay in our nation, until the elevator is fixed. “
Now Nesanel spoke. “What is this nation, anyway?” Vae’njaece chuckled. He took the boys through a decently long tunnel; this tunnel was filled with people, human and spider-men, and sometimes a low little house. At the end they were at a wooden, and stone, wall.
Vae’njaece spoke a secret word and a door, in the wall, opened.
He pushed on the door. Through the door the boys saw a utopia of stone. This city was decently bright, and in some places fires burned, but the boys had lived in decent lighting at the Academy.
They where not hurt to bad.
“This is the Chaos Weaver Nation.”
The boys oohed, and aahed, and then they climbed down the ladder, into the city.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/6/2011 20:29:28)

Since the boys walked in the company of the emperor of the nation, they were not threatened, or taunted.
“We are the rebel Chaos Weavers, who keep Vaal, the unholy king of the evil Chaos Weavers, from getting to the surface world, and reeking havoc across the land.” Vae’njaece spoke. “We have been here for 10 years, and have held our ground from him since then. We have not had a visitor in a long time, and some of the residents might be scared, or even hostile.” He turned to them. “But they should warm to you, over time.”
This last statement implied they might be there for a while.

“Here is your residence.” Vae’njaece told the boys, who had been listening to his story.
The trio stood just outside of a low building.
“It is a guest, or healing, house.” Vae’n flipped five silver pieces to each of the boys. “You might need a job, in the future, to pay for food.” He added. The boys nodded. Gavon received the key to the house, and both received their weapons.
“You have a nice blade, here.” Vae’n added, tapping the Blade of Twilight, before handing it to Nesanel. “Keep your eye on it, down here.”
Gavon and Nesanel bowed, and Vae’n left.
They entered their house.




3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/7/2011 11:42:23)

The house the boys were staying in was a decently fair house.
Its walls where decorated with ribbons and tapestries, and the occasional window. The boys explored the house.
There was a main room, which held a few chairs, and a rug. Then, off onto the side, there was another room, which purpose was unknown.
And then in the back room there where three simple beds, on the left wall, and a cot hanging between two columns, in the center of the room.
Nesanel instantly walked into the back room, threw his swords down on the cot, and lie down.
He was asleep before he hit the bed.
Gavon sat up for maybe an hour, contemplating all that had transpired.
Then he slept, fitfully, in his bed.

Nesanel woke first.
He had no idea how long he had slept, or how he had gotten into the side room of the guest house, but he had, so he went along his day.
Nesanel was walking groggily when he saw a small green and white mushroom-man, he could have been no more than three feet tall.
“What are you doin’…?” Nesanel asked the mushroom, even though he knew the mushroom-man could not understand him.
“N’tc rrru’cac U’nntacac, Tc’tc’Tc!” The creature rambled in his clicking and grinding language.
“Yes, yes…” Nesanel responded. He was slowly losing the sleep from his body. “What is your name?” Nesanel signed in a sign language, which is well known, and used, throughout Lore.
“N’tac.” It responded. It made a punching gesture at the air, with its stub of an arm.
N’tac lifted his mushroom top head to Nesanel, staring at him with his peanut eyes.
Nesanel signed back his name.
“N’tanecel!” N’tac exclaimed, once again his small stub fist punching the air.
Nesanel walked into the back room, and shook Gavon awake.
“There’s a tiny mushroom-man in our residence.” Gavon just stared at him. “He says his name is N’tac.” Still more staring.
N’tac walked into the room just then, and Gavon stared at N’tac.
Gavon flipped out of bed. “What the hell!” Obviously Gavon had never seen one of these creatures.
The Chaos Weaver Nation was already up and bustling, so he wondered why this thing had been able to enter their house, surely they had people watching them.
“Rrr’vurp!” The creature said.
“I am so keeping it.” Nesanel said, whipping out a belt, and wrapping it around its neck, not to tight.
“Yay!” N’tac said.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/7/2011 13:30:08)

The trio walked out into the streets of the Chaos Weaver Nation. Spider-men and human alike flooded the streets.
They decided to walk down to the center of the city, the large building, in which Vae’njaece lived in.
On their way the group saw something, which they hadn’t seen on the way in.
The mushroom-men where actually workers, and pets, to some of the residents of the Chaos Weaver Nation.
While the boys talked about the mushroom-men, N’tac just nodded.
While they walked by several shroom-men acknowledged their new pet, and waved, he waved back.
The streets here where full of low barracks and armed soldiers. Although, the people here still managed to be happy. Women cooked in low houses, men constructed houses for the homeless, alongside the shroom-men.
They where admiring the city when they nearly tackled into a Chaos Weaver guard.
“Hello, visitors.” The man said.
They stood in front a small wooden and stone gate, guarded on either side by a pair of Chaos Weavers.
“Hello, men.” Nesanel stepped up and bowed, letting them know he was grateful to be there. “We wish to see the emperor, Vae’njaece.” He stood up bow straight; one might think he was a knight. “We are acquaintances.” He added hastily, seeing their exchanged look.
The Chaos Weaver who they had seen at the gate dropped from the shadows.
“Indeed. I saw the emperor speaking to them and even personal giving them a residence.” He said. Once again the guards exchanged look.
“He won’t mind.” He added, making a hurrying gesture.
The guards dropped a latch and opened the gate.
“Remember your manners.” One of them said, with a sneer.
They entered the mansion and the guards closed the door, and two more latches fell.
“There seems to be an unreasonable amount of latches, in this city…” Gavon said.
It was pitch black here, and Gavon words echoed.
A dim light turned on and the trio could see a few guards, they where posted at every corner here, and some where on the ceiling.
They could see the emperor, Vae’njaece, striding towards them.
“Hello, boys!” He said, coming up to shake their hands and rub the little mushroom-mans head.
“What can I do for you?” He asked.



3 Vandoren -> RE: Gavon Felarian: A Biography (7/7/2011 16:48:35)

“We want to take the tunnel, the one that will take us to the surface.” Gavon said. Gavon knew that the tunnel trek would be long and treacherous, but he had begun to feel that the stone was closing in about him, eating him alive. The Chaos Weaver Emperor simply nodded.
“We are sure.” The 14 year old Nesanel said. Once more Vae’njaece nodded, but this nod seemed to be an order.
Three back-packs dropped from the ceiling.
Vae’n laid one ringed hand on each boys shoulder.
“Long and treacherous, indeed.” Vae’n seemed to agree with Gavon’s previous thought. Two guards also dropped from the ceiling, they ceased the bags and handed them to the boys, and shrooms. Vae’n pulled a plum, out of no where, and tossed it to N’tac, who began feasting on it.
“I admire your bravery.” Vae’n bowed. “Good luck.”
The trio flew back threw the gates, busting them open with their backs. The gates instantly reclosed, and the guards eyed the group.
They got up and dusted themselves off.
A human Chaos Weaver then flipped down behind them.
He was a young man, with thin features. He had brown eyes, and even browner hair. He wore a sack cloth shirt, and long sack cloth pants. He wore one silver ring on each finger.
He had a hood over his head, revealing just enough of his face, so that you can see what he looks like.
“Hello! I am Spyte.” He reached out a hand to shake Nesanel’s, since he was the closest, but did not bother to shake Gavon’s, before continuing to talk.
“Vae’njaece, my brother, sent me to guide you to the surface.” Spyte said, also tossing a plum to N’tac. N’tac made happy sounds and began making a grinding sound as he ate.
Spyte shouldered a back-pack, one that matched the boys, and the mushrooms, and he made a gesture behind him.
They followed him as he walked.

Then they came up to a large gate, almost the size and stature of the first gate.
Spyte spoke a secret word, one that only the ears of a Chaos Weaver could hear, and the gate swung open. They then stepped through.
The gate immediately shut behind them. Before the group was the beginning of a large tunnel.
Spider webs hung all around the group, and eyes watched them, from the shadows.
Gavon could hear the scampering of rat feet, and possible less friendly feet.



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