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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 1:45 pm 
Duke
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Location: Cluj-Napoca, Romania
Nighthawk wrote:
Image

I REALLY want to see the = on this one.

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<reddit rando> wrote:
What off platform you dog? Off platform hasn't been a thing in years this game is only playable using Java and if you believe otherwise you're too stupid because every server you played has been Java

fosho!


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 7:50 pm 
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i wanna see a vid of the "plusing"


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 10:46 am 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
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GoDs3nD wrote:
i wanna see a vid of the "plusing"

you pervert!!! :shock:

LOL
I will make a video of the process, just as I did with the Giran scene.
it's coming along really nice, actually

Image

I'm considering adding some chainmail on the neck, the sides and the back, to fill the gaps that might be left between platings, but I don't want to turn it into "15th century heavy Paladin" kind of cavalry.... more like "8th-century-some Rohan-ish" cavalry.

this will be a setting for the Humans to use in the plains of Gludin and Gludio.... maybe I'll upgrade them with a bit more of rusty armor for the Dark Elves
the Elves (of course) will get unicorns, maybe a variation of the magical ones and the agathions, and the orcs will ride the classic striders.
the Dwarves would get the Fenrir, since in comparison, a slightly oversized wolf can easily carry a Dwarf.
that, of course, IF I ever need them to ride anything...


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 9:22 pm 
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why rusty for d elves? maybe with wingy stuff like bw,tallum,dc and shitload of other armors?ofc in dark colors :D

hey wut bout kamaels? maybe

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KamEls :D


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Mon Sep 12, 2011 11:09 am 
Duke
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Location: Cluj-Napoca, Romania
U wrong. Kamael = kameltoes. :D

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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Wed Sep 14, 2011 2:54 am 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
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90% done, but... better to release it as it is, because I know from experience, the fine detailing takes forever....


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 12:37 pm 
Vassal

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second chapter... longer than the previous one, but IMHO, much more deep. I hate writing about the bad guys, tho :$

again, excuse any typos or misspelled sentences.

Chapter 2:
King's gambit.


“Boom!”, sounded the strike on impact, shaking the ground and launching debris over the burning roofs of the besieged village. The flames lit dimmly the far encampment of the Orcs as they worked in the dark to reload their catapults.
-“Set!....Launch!” –ordered an officer.
The volley rose above the tree line, cleared the deep chasm, and stroke the village from the sky.
“Boom!”...”BOOM!”... Everywhere, Human soldiers, civilians and animals were piling dead or wounded, or recovering from a previous stunning strike, staggering to their feet, trying to get to their posts, looking for cover, or looking for a way out of the surrounding chaos. Over and over again, for the past three hours, the Orcs had been raining hell over the village of Rune.
-“Centurion!” –called out Kritak, to one of his soldiers- “Adjust the batteries for maximum range! I want that garrison taken before dawn!”
-“Yes, sir! Maximum range!”
He who spoke so firmly and confidently, was Kritak. General Kritak zu Neruga, as known and feared by the realm of Elmore since he had attained power of the Orc government six months ago. ‘Great leader’ for some, ‘tyrant’ for some others, ‘a dangerous menace’ for those in charge of cities such as Aden and Giran. And, in fact, they were all correct. Kritak had acquired power after overthrowing the Great Council, stating that their ritual ways of “communion with all beings” were weak and old-fashioned, and made the Orcs look soft to the eyes of the great Pa’agrio. But, in turn, he could not have done that alone, so the fact of him gaining acceptance and support among the Orc people proved that he was indeed a great leader. And, of couse, by the exercise of this power, he was now in direct conflict with the realm of the Humans, invading nothing less than the very capital of Elmore…


(…Orc Capital…Eight months ago…)


In the cold, misty halls of the Temple of Pa’agrio, Kritak was leaning against the window frame, looking out to the hills. In his hand he held a small shiny nugget, about the size of a walnut, which was sparkling as the dim light of the sun found its way past the dense clouds and stroke its irregular surface. It was mithril. Pure, white, shiny mithril ore.
Caught he was, staring at the beauty of this ore, when he heard some knocking at his hall’s door.
-“Yes?” –he inquired. The door opened, and a young soldier came through.
-“Commander Kritak” –he saluted- “Commander Torga has arrived”
-“Send him in” –said Kritak, as he hid the small nugget in his belt pocket.
As the young soldier left the room, a sturdy, much more muscular specimen of male Orc made its way inside Kritak’s chamber. Visibly, a high-ranking noble, who had seen many winters, and had been hardened by them.
Kritak turned around, and greeted this noble who, apparently, was an old acquaintance of his.
-“Torga!” –he hailed, walking to him with arms wide open. The other Orc barely moved.
-“Now that your arms are open, give me a good reason not to stab you straight away” –said Torga, clearly offended for some reason.
-“Ha ha! Torga! So good to see you!” –said Kritak, and he hugged Torga without further delay. Anyone could have said, that they were both complying with an old Orc proverb: ‘Do salute your friends, yet hug your enemies, for if they are in your arms, they cannot weild a sword against you’- “But come, have a seat. We have much to talk about. Ale?”.
-“Yes, please. It’s been months since I had the chance to sip anything more than crude water”
Kritak brought two big cups of Orcish ale, refined from herbs grown in the Immortal Plateau.
-“To the sons of Pa’agrio!” -toasted Torga.
-“Jalač”* –replied Kritak. [*Jalač!(Shah-Lash!): Cheers!]
-“Ahhh! Excelent!” -said Torga after emptying his cup- “Now,… to what do I owe this honor? What troubles the great Kritak to the point of summoning a retired veteran?”
There was great irony in Torga’s words. To begin with, it was Kritak who, unwittingly, ended Torga’s career the time the former was promoted to Legion Commander. So, in a way, although Torga was proud of his apprentice’s progress, he felt threatened and diminished by him.
-“Nothing of the sort…” –said Kritak- “I’ve called you because I believe I have something that might be of your interest”
-“If you are talking about the eight-hundred braces of land that I requested the Council, I have already gotten them”
-“No, I am talking about your military career. I might have a way for an expert of your kind to return to the Legion”
-“Are you resigning?” –asked Torga, in a sarcastic tone- “My, what a loss for the military!”
-“That much you wish, you vicious old man!” –replied Kritak- “No, no, I’m talking about something that is the best thing for the Legion”
-“The best thing for the Legion would be to face battle! That is what the Legion was made for!” –said Torga, with true pride.
-“Exactly! I offer you the chance to lead your men again, into battle!”
-“Into battle? Why, thank you! And, if I may inquire…” –said Torga, playing dumb- “…to what battle are you referring? The last time I checked, we weren’t at war with anyone! Even the Human dogs have been avoiding fights behind their feeble treaties and laws!”
-“My point exactly…” –said Kritak. Torga seemed to support his opinion, so he could push the topic to a more delicate matter- “…I intend to get the Humans tied up to their laws, and use them in our favor”.
Torga was puzzled. He didn’t know if his best student had suddenly gone completely nuts, or if there was a real foundation to his thinking. He kept listening. Either way, he would regain a comission back, in the case that Kritak was deemed ‘not fit for duty’.
-“Hmmm… I am not sure I follow you…” –said Torga- “…but you certainly have gotten my attention! Please continue…”
-“As you know” –proceeded Kritak- “the Council supports the new trade policy used by the Dwarves. Since the Humans have gotten the most of Elmore after defeating the Ice Queen, they apply their laws to our land and to that of the Dwarves. And what do we get? Nothing! They take the resouces from OUR land, to sell them back to US at THEIR benefit! And the Council does not oppose it! In all these years, there has not been a single skirmish for us warriors in all Elmore! And now we do not even get the resources we need anymore! We no longer have metal for our weapons! Nor wood for our buildings! If this keeps happening, there will be nothing left of the mighty Legion as we know it!”
Torga was listening and ageeing with his head. Although a bit overreacted, Kritak’s argument was valid. Even if the situation of the Orcs was nowhere near that desperate, it was true that the Humans had taken control of a realm they never rightfully deserved.
-“Hmm… Indeed it would… But, the question remains… How do you plan to fight by taking advantage of a law that is, by default, not made in your favor?”
-“Easy, my old friend…” –Kritak pictured a sinister grin. Torga had taken the bait- “I’ve not gotten to the best part yet. You know the Humans rely on their trade treaty with the Dwarves to get the supplies the need…”
-“Certainly”
-“And the Dwarves provide minerals, wood, stone and machinery, in exchange for food, clothing, cattle and refined crystals”
-“…As they have done for nearly a century now…”
-“Right! And in all that century: how long have they been developing new technology to produce themselves what they buy from the Dwarves?”
-“…Hmmm… I suppose they haven’t done it at all… But, of course, if they did, their trade treaty would be rendered obsolete” –said the old Commander, always one step ahead of his student-
-“Exactly!”
Kritak had been pacing around the room, talking without looking at Torga, and he was now with his back to him, near one of the walls. He then boarded the point of his exposure:
-“What would you say, if I told you that the humans not only have those resources and the ability to exploit them, but also they are unaware of their existance?”
Torga bursted in laughter. The topic had been balancing on the edge of insanity, and now it had gone totally into sheer nonsense.
-“Ha ha ha! I would say you are trying to mock me! The Humans? Able to stand on their own? Ha ha! What did your cup had? Pitch? Ha ha ha ha!” –And saying this, Torga got up and started to head to the door, laughing and not willing to waste any more time.
-“Have you heard about the Forge of the Gods?” –said Kritak, in a loud voice, over Torga’s laughter, and suddenly Torga halted his steps.
The old veteran doubted for a second. There were legends about the Forge that said it was a haunted area, protected by devilish creatures of fire, which the Orcs both admired and feared; that they had been placed there by the ancient Gods, including Pa’agrio, the divinity the Orcs worshipped, to protect the treasures they had hidden below the fiery mountains; and that if a being was skilled and fierce enough to find their way in, he or she would be rewarded with those treasures that formerly belonged to the Gods.
But, of course, those were only legends, and no living being had ever seen such fiery mountains. Yet the fact of Kritak pointing that out at that particular moment made Torga think, since the legend said the fiery mountains were, in fact, located in what was now Human territory: far to the east of the old Ice Castle, past the wide Valley of Fumes, the name by which the Orcs knew the Hot Springs. Torga shared his thoughts:
-“I have. It’s an… old legend… about an eastern mountain that hides the treasures of the Gods… What does it have to do with all this? Are you saying the Humans could be able to get there and reach the legendary treasure? Is that what your plan is about? Getting there first?” –Torga was now caught in the topic again. Kritak could now play his card.
-“I do not intend to get there. I intend to return. And this time, to get out with a little more…” –And saying that, he took the small nugget out of his pocket and turned around, placing it on the table, and finally directing his sight to Torga again. Torga’s eyes were wide open. He rushed back to the table and grabbed the nugget in excitement.
-“Great Kain’s horns!! It’s pure mithril! Where did you get it!?”
Kritak was expecting the question from the beginning, so he let the old man know:
-“I was returning from the city of Goddard, and decided to take the Northern route instead of the Western, since I had the time and the chance to do a little exploring. Near the border of the Plains of Fumes, a flare coming from the path caught my eye, so I dismounted my strider and dig a bit on the ground. I found that nugget, much more muddy, but it still sparked with intensity on some edges. I washed it out in a nearby stream, and realized the bottom of the stream also had some sparkling stones, so I followed the current up, and discovered an area of dead trees covered with dust, much hotter than the surroundings, and visibly abundant of minerals. I did not have the means of carrying much of that mineral, and it would have been imprudent, since I was about to cross Human territory and someone could have noticed it; but I remembered the location, and by the looks if it, I can assure you, it is the legendary fiery mountain!”
Torga was still dubious. Despite the solid proof of the mithril nugget, the existance of the fiery mountain still seemed too far fetched.
-“And you say there is more of this where it came from?”
-“Lots more!” –Kritak assured him- “And in such amount that we can stop using simple metals and use mithril intead, for our weapons and armor. Imagine that! The Humans would be dwarfed by our military might! Not even the Elves would resist us! Join me, old friend! And together we can return the Orcs to the place they deserve in this realm!”
-“Aaaargh Ha ha ha!” –laughed Torga- “You petty little scarab! You finally think like a true leader! Ha ha ha! Arrghh… of course I will join you! Pour me another ale! And when this is done we will celebrate in the halls of Aden, with year-old wine that I will grow myself in their own land! Ha ha ha! Jalač!”
-“Jalač!” –toasted Kritak.
-“Now, what do you need me to do? Do you want me as your advisor or do you have a truly challenging opponent for me?”
-“I will write a letter to the Council requesting you as a military advisor. Given your rank and social status, they will grant it. Once you have a foothold in the council chamber and we can be seen together without suspicion, we will begin transferring resources from the city’s storage to the barracks; all of the guard changes are under one of my trusted warriors, so he will provide the manpower. When we have enough, we will fashion human-style weapons and goods, and use our frontier patrols to plant them into Dwarven caravans. A moment will come, when these caravans can be intercepted by our soldiers in Schuttgart. They will identify this goods as of Human craft, and inform their commanding officer. When word is sent that there are Human weapons in Dwarven convoys, the Humans will try to investigate, and that will be your entry signal. You will begin to attack our frontier colonies north of the Den of Evil, and make sure to leave traces of both Human and Dwarven goods. It will appear as if the Dwarves had engaged us, and that would give us the right to retaliate. I will convince the council to leave the Humans out of the conflict, and settle it with the Dwarves, since the Humans would be too big an enemy to fight”
-“Naturally” –agreed Torga “Please continue. I believe I understand your vision already”
-“Alright. Once we engage the Dwarves, the Humans, as I told you, will be tied up to their treaty and will be forced to support the Dwarves in their fight. When they do, they will be wise not to invade our frontiers, since they would be in the same situation as us, and an all-out invasion will be frowned upon by Elves and Dark Elves, and they might make an enemy out of them. Instead, they will help the Dwarves on their land. To do that, they will have to weaken their garrisons, since the kingdom of Elmore is in bad terms with the kingdom of Aden, and they will hardly get support from them”.
Torga was impressed. Kritak had his moves pretty well-planned, and the campaign sounded solid to his ears, but as always, Kritak was leaving one element out of consideration. One that might prove in handy for the Orcs.
-“Even if they do, your forget that we Orcs have lived in the mountains for centuries” –said Torga, and Kritak left him elaborate- “These Humans of Aden are used to fighting in the plains, they have no mountain experience whatsoever! If you concentrate you offensive in the mountains of Rune, not even the infantry of Goddard will oppose you!”
Kritak gave the suggestion some thought:
-“Hmmm… You might be right about that. Anyways, the moment they displace their forces from their major cities, we will attack. I will consider your tactics… Rune might prove a much more worthy objective than I originally thought…”
-“Then it’s settled! We agree to attack when the Humans mobilize!”
The plan was set in motion. The next day, a letter was dispatched to all the Orcish officers loyal to Kritak and Torga, requesting battle readiness within a week.
During the next weeks, the guards of the city’s stockpile were quietly withdrawing small amounts of metal, wood and leather, and moving them to the barracks’s foundry, where they would be turned into Human-design swords, shields and polearms, under the strict supervision of Kritak.
When the Dwarven merchants arrived to the city, their cargos were inspected, and some goods replaced with the replicas, carefuly hidden among the loads of merchandise the Dwarves transported. It wasn’t long until these caravans got to Schuttgart, where their cargos were also inspected in the Orc-Human frontier by Kritak’s minions, and retrieved before the humans discovered any minor irregularity. When the frontier guards had enough goods in their hands, they launched the final stage of the plan: they planted a crate of these Human-crafted goods in a Dwarven trader caravan, and opened it in front of Dwarven, Human and Orcish witnesses. The Human ‘contraband’ was put on evidence.


(…Orc Council Hall…Six months ago…)


-"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Please! Order!” –asked Kakai, head of the Orcish Council- “Please, let us not become enraged like our ancestors! We established this council to solve our differences, not to agravate them!”
The unruly crowd of Orcish Chiefs, not much to their liking, became quiet. The Council had gathered to debate the increasing suspicion of a Human alliance with the Dwarves, after the incident on the frontier of Schuttgart, and the recent rumors of invasion of the outer borders by Dwarven warriors. The Council was formed by the chiefs of all the tribes living in the Orc Nation: Atuba, Neruga, Hatari, Hestui, Duda-mara, Koroga, Gandi and Urutu. Even Torga was present, now an official member of the Council, as member of the Duda-mara. They were all politely exposing their points of view, but the situation went slightly over the top. If the case had been treated some 300 years earlier, the final veredict would have been the decision to sound the war drums, and punish the offenders. But now, the Orcs had aquired the Human way of government, and they were going to settle their difference with the Dwarves according to the Human law.
-“Commander Kritak, it was your people who found the forbidden goods. Yours is the right to present your vision of the facts at hand” –said Kakai, and sat at his place. Kritak then stood up:
-“Great Flame Lord! Council Elders! As you may know, the Humans have been encouraging us to live by their laws! Those same laws they say to protect with their lives, against anyone who dares challenging or opposing them! Well, let me be the one not to defy those laws, but the one to ask them to honor them!” –said Kritak, firmly. As he spoke, a general climate of agreement rose from the Council- “They swear to be obedient to their Gods, as do we, so now we are forced to request an action from them! If they are honoring a trade agreement, let us demand that said trade agreement stays restricted to non-military goods. For, as we understand, the trading of weapons is a military action, not a civilian action. Great Flame Lord! If it is your desire, and that of the Council’s, to return to the Old Ways and order me to sound the war drums, so be it! But let everyone know, that Kritak Zu Neruga will not tolerate a disloyal action by those who claim to live by their rules, and let them walk away without demanding a satisfaction first!”
And that said, Kritak sat back at his place. He had played his part as a master tactician. The Council was now in agreement with a retaliatory action, and the posibility of war was at hand. After a short low-voice deliberation, Kakai rose again:
-“The Council agrees! The Humans and the Dwarves must be forced to answer for this offense to our land and laws! We will deny passage to any Human or Dwarven convoy to our land, and will cease to negotiate with their products until they solve the matter themselves! If they need our resources, they will have to deserve them, according to the law they have agreed to protect!”
There was some agreement with the veredict, but some Elders looked uncomfortable. And Kritak did not lose sight of them. After the hall was quiet and everyone had retired, he gathered again with these Elders who had shown a different opinion:
-“Gentlemen, let us be clear” –started Kritak- “we are all here under our own summoning, and we all agree that a stronger action must be taken. Do we all agree?”
All the Elders present, some more strongly, some less convinced, all agreed.
-“Very well, let us first discuss the future of Kakai as the head of the Council…”


(…Dwarven coast…Four months ago…)


The expeditions to the Dwarven coast were insanely difficult, and nowhere as organized as it was planned. The big, slow ships the Orcs had fashioned were impossible to maneuver in the rocky Dwarven fjords, and their massive frame provided a clear target for the Dwarven artillery placed along the coast. Several ships sank in the span of a month, and several others were still half-sunk, marooned near the frozen beaches, where most of the fighting had taken place. Far from the inland fortifications, the Orcs were cannon fodder for the Dwarven gunners, but when the Orcs got to push their fight up to their walls, the situation was much more different. Hand to hand, the Dwarves were easy pickings for the massive Orcs, and in the few raids the Orcs could achieve, the Dwarves got a run for their money. All the campaign now relied in one tight spot: a small peninsula north of the road to the abandoned coal mines. The orcs were safe there, since the Dwarven cannons were out of range, but they could not launch an assault uphill, because the terrain was too difficult. It was a temporary stalemate, that would last until any side could get reinforcements.
Kritak’s plan had been simple: to harass the Dwarven village with any warriors he had, forcing the Dwarves to give chase. The Dwarves were already accustomed to seeing Kritak’s golden armor leading his men into battle, and his red cape as he pulled back time and again. The siege (if one could call that a siege) lasted for five weeks, but for the Dwarves it was just another day in paradise, since their frontiers were open to those of the Humans, and they kept hauling supplies back and forth.
As the officers of the Orcs’s beach head informed, the Dwarven walls slowly began to crowd with Human soldiers. At first, it was heavy soldiers who defended the walls, then they included archers and healers. All of which would be of no difference to the Orcs, as they got to raid the walls in two more ocassions before the garrison was strong enough to repel the assaults and finally give chase to the Orcish warlord back to his encampment.
Although the situation was now desperate for the Orcs, they did not yield. They stood their ground against the combined Dwarven-Human party, and fought to the last man.
Off the coast, their last stand was observed by a new kind of Orcish ship: one that was not fit for battle, but rather unarmed, fast, and small enough to remain unseen amongst the many rocks of the coast. The ship was posted so that it would have a clear sight of the coast, without offering a distinctive shape to the enemy. Its occupants then abandoned their hiding place, and set course to the nearest Orc outpost: a small improvised network of platforms, off and up the cliffed north coast of the Orc Nation, from where they could mantain contact with the Capital without having to circle around to use the southern beaches.
The news of the Orcish defeat reached the halls of the Temple of Pa’agrio almost at the same time: that about the Human-Dwarven party defeating the great Kritak, and that about Kritak’s decoy being taken.
-“Are you sure they are all dead, recruit?” –asked Kritak, now the sole leader of the Orc Nation-
-“Yes, Commander. All dead. Including Commander Torga. He fought until his last breath”
-“Is that so…? Well, it seems that this new metal alloy has passed the test” –said Kritak looking at a newer version of the same golden armor that Torga wore in the Dwarven beach- “Very well… Rely this message to Commander Nyughu: Operation Visitor completed. Offspring out of the nest. Deploy worker bees inmediately.”
-“Yes, sir! On the double.” –said the messenger, and left on direction to the barracks.
Alone in his hall again, Kritak muttered to himself:
-“My, my, what a pity, Torga… You should have stabbed me when you had the chance…”


(…Rune…Three months ago…)


-“Centurion! Adjust the batteries for maximum range! I want that garrison taken before dawn!”
-“Yes, sir! Maximum range!”
In the few minutes it took the Orcs to calibrate their catapults, the remaining Humans in the village regrouped and manned the gate and the front wall, but to no avail, for a few seconds later a direct hit from the siege battery severely damaged both towers, rending the gate and the upper hallways open to a frontal assault.
-“Legion! Advance!” –ordered the Centurion. And the uniform mass of heavy infantry slowly pushed the Humans back, until they finally surrendered. The attack was ruthless and solid. Not only the Orcs were much better equipped than before, but also this time the Humans did not even have the minimum usual garrison; all their main fighting force was scattered throughout Elmore, supporting the Dwarven army. In the upper level of the city, they fought shoulder to shoulder, making the Orcs pay for every stone they stepped on, but finally, outnumbered, tired and after four hours of bombing, fighting and dying, they surrendered to the invader.
Once inside the Great Hall of the City, Kritak claimed possession of Rune and all Elmore in its whole.
-“General Kritak!” –yelled Lord Harald, King of Rune- “This incident is a war declaration against the Human race! You and your people will pay for such an outrageous offense!”
-“Offense? You plot an invasion of my country along with your Dwarven allies, and I have offended you?” –said Kritak, so naturally- “From where I stand, my lord, I am the offended one here but, worry not, I have already claimed my satisfaction. Seize him!”
Two Legionaires carried out the order, and seized the King. Another three seized the remaining guards, and all were taken to the city’s dungeon.
Messengers were then dispatched to Schuttgart and Goddard carrying Kritak’s demands, which were naturally rejected and, as a response, the following week Goddard was invaded and taken. Schuttgart and the Dwarven realm had no choice but to surrender as well, as it seemed nothing could stop the mighty Orc Empire from expanding.
In the hall of the newly captured castle of Goddard, and after celebrating victory with his officers, Kritak called for a meeting with his top commanders.
-“Gentlemen…” –he said, holding his mithril nugget at eye level-“…prepare your divisions. We are going out on a mining expedition.”

…To be continued…


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Fri Sep 23, 2011 4:47 pm 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
The profile of Kritak (finally!)
I've been meaning to do this for about 3 months now... never got around to resolve the writing until now...

Image

Name: Kritak Zu Neruga

Gender: Orc, Male

Mastery: Titan

Personal Record: Commander in Chief of the Orcish Army. Reagent of the great, yet ephimerous, Orcish Empire. Invaded the Dwarven kingdom by sea, breaking the usual tactical settings, and employed the Human policy as a tool to begin his invasion of Rune and Goddard. Conquered Elmore by taking advantage of the tecnology and the strenght of his Legions. Explored the ancient Forge of the Gods, and got to dominate the power of the demons guarding it. Formed a temporary alliance with the Dark Elven nation, and sent troops and equipment to the southern-west part of Aden. Captured Gludin and Gludio, but was finally defeated in Dion by the Elven/Human coalition, and fled back to Orcish territory. Towards the end of his domain, he tampered with the dark arts protecting the treasures of the Forge, at the point of gaining so much power, that the Gods had to intervene in the final battle, fought in the Temple of Pa'agrio.

Biography: Kritak comes from one of the most reknown tribes of the Orc Nation: the unrelenting Neruga. He devoted his life to the Legion and the service of the people, which finally earned him the command of the army on its whole. Respected by his warriors and a big part of the civillian population, he easily gathered the support he required to expose his vision before the Council. Although his general plan was based on a valid claim, the alliance with the Dark Elves became the error the Humans were expecting, and his expansion over Aden was rejected, both by the Humans and the Orcish people as well. By forced recruitments in the Orc Nation, Kritak tried to rebuild the decimated army, but with this action he would gradually lose the population's support. With the arrival of Tretios, Kritak would reshape his government by using dark magic, and employ the spells protecting the Forge's treasures to counter the opposition. He was finally defeated by Malik and Zeiron, thanks to the divine intervention of angels from the Valey of Saints.


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Thu Sep 29, 2011 8:08 pm 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
Chapter 3:
The Assignment.


As a Royal Guard, Malik was required to have a great amount of patience. The duty shifts were long, the training was hard, the service life itself required a great force of will. But if something could push Malik's temper to the limit, was the somewhat lousy bureaucracy around the field logistics.
As tired as he was after the battle on the Border Outpost, he headed straight to the General's tent, with the message he had just received made a wrinkled roll on his fist. He had to speak to his superior officer, but the guards posted at the tent's entrance politely denied him passage: the General was in a meeting, and he was not to be disturbed.
He tried pushing rank over the two guards.
-"Captain Malik, Giran's Regiment." -Malik identified himself- "I need to see the General."
-"I am sorry Captain, but the General has given specific orders." -said one of the soldiers, blocking Malik's path with his spear.
-"Specific orders? What do you mean?"
-"He is gathered with his personal advisors. He asked not to be interrupted."
-"I understand. But this is an important matter, so please, let me through." -Malik asked politely.
-"I am sorry, sir. The general is busy." –replied dryly the other guard.
-"And I don't care if the King himself is in that tent, Sergeant!" -said Malik, now irritated- "Now step aside! That's an order!"
None of the soldiers moved.
Malik knew first hand he could not override a General's order so easily, but he was not in the mood to be waiting outside. He quickly and strongly pushed the spear block upwards, clearing his path, and burst in. The guards were caught by surprise.
-"Sir! You can't go in! Sir! HALT!" -yelled the Sergeant.
But Malik was way past them, and already inside the tent. In front of him, General
Eldon and his two advisors were still talking, correcting plans over a big log table, oblivious to the noise outside:
-"...but the second division is still short of supplies, and we thi-- But what the blazes...!? Malik!? What is the meaning of this!?" -yelled the General, as Malik stormed in.
-"I am sorry, General, he just went right past us...." -said the Sergeant, trying to excuse himself.
Malik didn't even observe the proper protocol regarding the presence of a superior officer and two overseers. Plus, he had just broken several regulations by entering like that.
-"Tell me you have a good explanation for this?" -he said directly to the General, holding the message roll in his fist, in a menacing looking way.
All the present ones were puzzled by such an act of insubordination. Malik was a renowned soldier, with an exemplary service record, so the guards couldn't simply seize an officer unless they were ordered to do so by a higher-ranking officer; and the General was equally as surprised, so he was not sure whether to give the order or not. The two advisors, as usual, were simply witnessing this awkward moment... silently. Finally, General Eldon took hold of the situation.
-"Gentlemen, would you excuse us, please?" -he said, addressing everyone around, but staring firmly into Malik's eyes- "It is alright, Sergeant, return to you post...."
-"Sir!" -saluted the Sergeant, and the two guards headed out.
Behind the guards, the two advisors left the place, and once the tent was cleared, the General tried to straighten the matter.
-"Captain, you are out of order! You have this one opportunity to explain yourself! Speak up! Malik, if you are half the man I know you to be, you better have a damn good reason for doing this..."
-"You bet I have it...!" -said Malik, unrolling the message open, and handing it over to the General.
The General grabbed the wrinkled piece of paper, and quickly read its content, mumbling in low voice.
-"...'To Captain Malik, Giran's Regiment... as of this moment, you are hereby requested and required to--" -and he stopped, surprised by the content.
As he quickly lifted his sight from the paper and looked at Malik, he understood the reason for such a haste of the young Captain's. Eldon then finished reading the message.
-"'..to relinquish command of your unit, and present yourself before His Royal Excellency Lord Astor, King of Giran, within four days time of receiving the present notification... signed: Sir Erwen Blackrook, Royal Marshall, Kingdom of Giran; and Lord William Oakwood, First Chancellor, Kingdom of Aden'" -Eldon's eyes met Malik's- “Malik, I assure you, I was not aware of this. I am as surprised as you are!"
-"What? Are you telling me someone is surpassing your authority level?" -asked Malik, with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, given the early, unnecessary outburst.
-"Only the King would be entitled to override my authority, but I promise you, I have not received any new orders!"
As they were discussing the matter at hand, the Sergeant came back inside. He was holding another rolled piece of paper in his hand.
-"General Eldon? Sorry to interrupt, but a messenger just arrived…" -and he gave the token to the General.
-"Thank you, Sergeant. Carry on..." -replied the General.
And the guard saluted, and left again.
Eldon opened the message, and read aloud:
-"'General Tiberius Eldon, Army of Aden, First Division. By order of King Ramdalu, you are to assume command of the transferred divisions of Giran, and relieve Captain Malik, who is to be reassigned to a new fighting force, building up in Giran. Signed: Lord William Oakwood, First Chancellor, Kingdom of Aden'..."
-"Royal messenger service at its finest, huh?" -joked Malik.
-"Indeed..." -agreed Eldon. Even though they had known each other for a short while, they both felt confidence towards one another.
-"My apologies, Sir... I was out of order..." -Malik apologized.
-"Right you are. But then again, I can understand what you have been through. Losing your unit after the progress you have made, is not something I would desire either"
-"Then, mediate in my favor, Sir! You of all people know that I can be of much more help out here! I know these men, they know me, and they are already capable of standing up to the Orcs!"
-"I am sorry Malik; but as much as I sympathize with your situation, an order is an order, Captain, and it is my duty to pass them along and see them carried out. You are to relinquish command of your unit and make your way to Giran immediately." -said Eldon, much to his disliking, as Malik was one of his finest officers.
-"Sir, I..."
-"I relieve you, Captain."
Malik felt his effort undermined and lost. In the one month he had been in command of the light infantry, he had hit the Orcs harder than ever. And now, he was being away, far from what had made his men be what they were today.
-"I stand relieved, Sir." -he saluted.
As Malik left the tent in silence, General Eldon went back to the log desk, and prayed good luck to the departing soldier.
-"...Maphr be with you, son..."


Malik barely had time to pack up, because the four-day deadline stated in the message was barely enough to reach Giran by conventional means of travelling. Giran was two days away at wyvern back, and nearly a week away at foot. So, instead of heading to the mess hall where his men were gathered, he headed to the stables. He quickly saddled one of the best horses he could find, and was almost done with the rigging, when he heard someone calling his name from the outside:
-"Malik! Hey, Malik! We're waiting for you! Mal--!.... Malik?"
It was Matt, who noticing his friend's delay in coming to the victory celebration, decided to go out and find him. He was passing near the stable, when he caught a glimpse of Malik's white leather armor, so he went in.
-"Malik? Why are you saddling a horse in the middle of our celebration?" -asked Matt.
-"I'm leaving. I'm heading back to Giran, King's orders" -said Malik, visibly irritated.
-"Wha-? What do you mean you're leaving? We just got here after a week of fighting! Am I missing something?"
-"I just received a message from Giran. I've been reassigned. My unit is now under the General's direct command. And yes, you are missing a lot. I am missing a lot. But whoever decided this, shall answer for it, I tell you." -explained Malik.
As Malik was discharging himself, Matt grabbed another saddle and moved to the nearest stud.
-"Well, good thing this light saddles are easy to set up" -said Matt, as he was almost finishing saddling another horse- "When do we leave?"
-"Wait... What?" -asked Malik
-"'When do we leave?'" -replied Matt, already mounted on horseback- "Did you think I was going to let you walk away just like that? I'm coming with you!"
-"No, you are not! You will remain here, and serve under the General's command! Is that clear, Lieutenant?" -said Malik.
-"Is that an order, Captain?"
-"Of course it is!"
-"Hmm… Well, you just lost command of your unit so, you're not my commanding officer anymore… Too bad…" -said Matt, always with some ace under the sleeve.
Malik could have still pushed rank over the young Lieutenant, but given the circumstances, he could use Matt's help on whatever new task awaited him on Giran, so he just gave in.
-"Alright, Alright! But give word of our departure to our men. It's the least we can do" -said Malik, mounting now his horse.
-"Oh, leave them just like that! They are home, they have won a battle... Leave them drink, and sing, and toast their comrades, and when all that is past, the General will brief them all... Don't spoil their celebration with a sad departure..."
For one thing, Matt was right. The news of the changes in the chain of command would have lowered the morale. And besides, the General was as good a commander as anyone. There was no need to worry about those men.
-"Let's get that horizon, my friend! Let's go!" -said Matt
And so, slowly and quietly, the two soldiers left the great city of Aden.
They had not made much distance from the city, when at late afternoon they heard the sound of another horse, closing in behind them. At about fifty braces away, they recognized the rider, who was soon travelling by their side
-"Forgive me if I am rude regarding your social behavior but, is it not traditional for the host to communicate any changes in the celebration's events?" -said Galen, upset, to name it some way.
-"I am sorry I was not there for the victory toast" -replied Malik, tired and equally upset, and without even looking at Galen
-"He just got transferred back to Giran" -explained Matt- "The Giran unit in Aden is now under the General's command"
-"That I figured. Given your sudden departure, I imagined something important might have occurred, and seeing you heading South, I concluded it had to be related to Giran" -said Galen
Malik was not in the mood to answer. With all the recent events, his head was an entanglement of thoughts and ideas. He remained silent, while Matt dealt with Galen.
-"And why are you here anyways?" -asked Matt, regarding Galen's assignment- "Weren't you supposed to be an advisor in Aden?"
-"My task was to monitor his progress..." -said Galen, pointing at Malik- "and yours, and inform the Ivory Tower of your campaign against the Orcs. Since his command has been transferred elsewhere,...well... I figured I would have to 'transfer' myself as well"
-"Great… Now we’re being baby-sitted by an Elf…" -joked Matt.


The party of three riders soon left Aden out of sight and entered the enchanted Forest of Mirrors. The old and leafy trees of the forest made for a perfect camping spot, so Malik decided to pass the night there, and continue the voyage the morning after.
The night in the forest was nearly magical. The pale moonlight was passing through the gaps between the oldest and highest leaves of the enormous trees, highlighting small bugs as they flew around the campsite. It was said the forest was haunted, inhabited by mysterious ghosts who seemed to mimic the traveler’s look and movement, heading the same way, walking the same way, or even moving the same limb, as if they were a reflection of the subject they followed. Hence the name: Forest of Mirrors. Even though the season was roughly cold in Aden, the air in the forest was misty and warm, and the three soldiers quickly fell asleep.
At dawn, they began to move again, through the hard and narrow path of the forest, and by the early afternoon they had gotten out of the forest, and reached the hunters village built on the top part of the Forbidden Path valley. There they gathered the supplies they needed for the rest of the trip, and headed West, towards the Skyshadow range and the large plains of Oren.
They did not have to stop during the night. Galen fashioned a tonifying beverage with wild weeds and some spices bought in the hunters’ village, and they all drank from it, including the horses. The energizing liquid renew their strengths, and they could ride all night long through the wide fields, saving precious time.
By dawn of the following morning, they were nearing the frontier with Giran. Galen sighted the landmark: the ruins of the old River Fortress.
-“Malik, look! The ancient frontier outpost!” –he said, pointing to the mountain range- “We are on Giran already!”
-“Just the final steps towards the city!” –answered Malik- “Come on, my friends! Through the river!”
The party rushed through the calm water stream, and in seconds, they were out of Oren, and into Giran. Ahead of them, laid the deserted path of the Deathpass.
-“The Deathpass…” –said Malik- “The city is right on the other side…”
And with a nod, he invited his comrades to follow him. Just like a host invites his friends to enter his home.
The Deathpass, when compared to the rest of Giran, was a nasty place. Silent, dirty, muddy, full of bugs, rodents, falling rocks, and inhabited by wild hogs and very territorial wyrms. The small party was advancing dismounted, in a tight formation, away from the walls of the passage to avoid any rockslides, and at the other side of a tight turn, they met one of these unpredictable wyrms.
-“WOW!” –said Malik, surprised, as he stopped on the spot, extending his arm to block Matt’s path. Then, in a low voice he added- “… Don’t move… I don’t think it has sensed us…”
The beast, in fact, was asleep, oblivious to the presence of the three travellers. The wyrm was rolled upon itself, with one of its wings slightly above in the air, and waving its tail slowly on the sand. Underneath it, there were traces of loose dirt and straws. Evidently, a nesting place. Unfortunately, there was no way around it on that tight passage, so they had to try and slip by it.
-“…Shhh… Quiet…” –said Malik- “If we move slowly, we might be able to avoid it…”
-“…Hmmm… I was under the impression that these creatures never slept…” –said Galen, looking at the beast, curiously- “…I might have to come back some time… This should prove an interesting research field…”
-“…Shhhht!...”
But as the party was passing by the waving tail of the beast, one of the horses stood in the path of the hectic limb, and the contact startled the wyrm awake.
-“Watch out! It’s awake!” –said Matt, as he drew his dagger from his belt, ready for a fight.
-“No! Sheath that!” –said Galen, who was the closest to the beast- “You won’t even scratch its skin! Step back!”
And as he pushed Matt and his horse away, he concentrated to commune with the beast’s mind, applying a pacifying spell on it. As the beast took a defensive stance protecting its nest, Galen extended his arm towards the enraged wyrm, and closed his eyes…
-“…Nor taeresi… Ol mas valin… Shas malayir!...Thal var narin!” –he said, with strong, ordering tone.
And before him, the beast tumbled backwards, closed its eyes, and with a soft growl, it fell heavily to the ground, blowing dust around.
-“Whoa!… Better than a lullaby, huh?” –said Matt, relieved.
-“Galen, are you alright?” –asked Malik, who knew how the use of magic affected his friend.
-“I am… Do not worry…” –said Galen- “The mind of a wild creature is somewhat… basic… It is easy to control…”
Although a bit agitated because of the sudden shock, Galen was on his feet, and he seemed not affected by the spell.
-“Let’s get out of here before it wakes up again” –said Malik.
-“I’m with you…” –added Matt- “The last thing I want is to be roasted for breakfast…”
Some two hours after the incident, and some thousand braces away, the small party was reaching the exit end of the Deathpass, and the city of Giran was on sight.


The party approached the North entrance, and Malik felt a wave of childhood memories coming suddenly to his mind. He used to wander these same fields when he played outside the city, and that he abandoned when he joined the Royal Guard. Staying in the barracks, he barely left the city, and when he was sent to Aden, he and the infantry regiment departed from Giran’s Castle, taking the longest way: across the Gorgorn’s garden and Dragon Valley, and over the Angel Waterfall, reaching Aden from the South. It had been quite a while since he had the chance to see the city from this perspective. And, it was ever as beautiful.
-“Halt! Who goes there!” –said the entrance guard.
-“At ease soldier…” –saluted Malik– “Captain Malik, Royal Regiment. I was summoned by Lord Astor”
Malik gave the guard the message he had received in Aden. The guard then let them through.
-“Yes, Captain. We got word of your arrival. Welcome home!”
-“Thank you soldier…” –said Malik, and took a refreshing breath- “…It’s good to be back…”
Once they had entered the city, they made their way to the barracks, located near the city’s church. The surrounding area of the barracks was crowded with improvised tents, and so was the inner training ground. As they walked towards the main keep, Malik met some familiar faces, but also encountered countless new ones. They were visibly not soldiers, and definitely not from Giran or the surrounding areas. Evidently, something big was building up in the city.
-“Malik! You’re here!” –said one golden-armored knight, greeting the arriving group.
-“Sir Kristof!” –answered Malik
Sir Kristof Rodemai had been Malik’s trainer during his early years in the Regiment. Malik felt a great deal of respect for him, and always tried to make the most of his teachings. Rodemai also regarded Malik with great respect, almost like an adoptive son.
-“Sir Kristof Rodemai, Royal Knight of Giran” –said Malik, introducing his mentor to his friends- “Sir Kristof, these are my comrades and friends: Matthew of Aden, Lieutenant of the King’s Infantry; and Velethir Galen, Emissary of the Ivory Tower”
-“An honor, sir…” –saluted Galen.
-“Pleased to meet you, sir…” –saluted Matt.
-“Lieutenant Matthew,… Lord Velethir,… If you are friends of Malik’s, you are friends of mine! My sword is yours!” –said Sir Kristof, shaking their hands with the typical honor pledge.
But somehow, Galen was not pleased with the greeting. He spoke his discomfort out.
-“Uhm… Lord Galen, Sir…” –said Galen- “We Elfs introduce ourselves by family name first”
-“Oh… I see… My apologies then, Lord Galen”
-“Sir Kristof…” –said Malik- “I was summoned by Lord Astor with an important matter at hand. It is imperative that we speak to him!”
-“Yes, yes, I was aware of that… I am now in charge of everything you see around here…” –said Sir Kristof, visibly overwhelmed by the circumstances
-“You in charge? Of the entire Regiment? How? Where is Sir Hannavalt?” –asked Malik, confused
Sir Hannavalt was the Great Master of the Academy, and also the head Officer of the Regiment, answering directly to Sir Erwen Blackrook, and Lord Astor. He spent long periods of time on the castle, but he never had to name someone to take over his duties.
-“We don’t know…” –said Sir Kristof- “He disappeared about a month ago, after you left the castle. Sir Erwen said he talked to him after your detachment left, but he never made it back to the barracks. We were afraid that he had suffered an accident on his way here, but our search parties found no traces of him near the castle or the city. We even sent word over to Dion, but we haven’t received any responses since. He just… vanished…”
Malik, Matt and Galen shared sights as Sir Kristof was talking. For a wizard who employs his whole self to control the elements, Galen knew it would require a great deal of power to make someone ‘disappear’ without a trace. Malik and Matt, being experts on open-field tracking and travelling, knew that a person doesn’t simply ‘vanish’ without leaving a footprint or a blood trace.
-“Have you tried looking inside the castle? Maybe he was ambushed a killed in a hidden spot…” –said Matt. The thought was highly unlikely, but still plausible
-“Yes, we began by turning the castle upside-down, but we found nothing. And anyways, who would dare doing such a thing? And, to what purpose?”
-“I don’t know… I was just thinking aloud…” –said Matt.
-“We are already looking deeper into the matter.” –said Sir Kristof- “Come, I shall take you before Lord Astor. He will be more qualified to explain everything.”
The four gentlemen headed out of the city, and towards the castle, erected some hundred braces away from the city and on top of a small hill. Led as they were, by a Royal Knight, they soon reached the King’s Hall, and were about to speak to Lord Astor.


The main hall of Giran’s castle, although not as magnificent as the one on Aden, it still was impressively breathtaking. The floor was made out of big solid squares of limestone, but the walls were made of marble, and covered with tapestries delicately sewn with golden thread. The columns and beams were made out of white granite, and the central chandelier was held in place by four big steel chains, bolted to the two central beams. At the other end of the room, the throne frame had two big tapestries of silk at the sides of the throne, each one bearing Lord Astor’s Coat of Arms. The throne itself was made of dark oak, with golden highlights, and placed at the end of a long red carpet made of velvet, also decorated with golden thread. The extent of the room was such, that it gave Malik some time to exchange some thoughts with Matt and Galen in low voice, as they walked towards Lord Astor.
-“What do you think? Orcish spies?” –said Matt, to Malik, regarding Sir Hannavalt missing.
-“No, not this far from the front lines… I don’t believe they got to slip by our patrols so easily… It has to be something else…” –answered Malik, and turned to Galen- “Galen? Any thoughts?”
-“I am not sure… The Orcs have a strong control of the magic realm, but not nearly as strong as the Elfs. There is no Orcish branch on the Ivory Tower, and I highly doubt there will ever be one” –said Galen, as an expert in the field of magic- “If it is the result of magic power, I doubt it can be related to that practiced by the Orcs. I shall return to the Elven Village, and speak to an old friend of mine. He might have some insights on this matter.”
-“Fair enough. Quiet now, we must not stand disrespectful…” –said Malik.
As they came closer to the throne, the chances of their chatter being heard were increased, so they dropped the matter for the moment. Beside the King, there was Sir Erwen, and behind him, two young aids. When they were before the King’s presence, they all kneeled with respect.
-“Sir Kristof Rodemai, Royal Knight of Giran! Malik son of Merric, Captain of the Royal Guard! And… companions!” –announced the chamberlain, aware of Malik’s visit, but not of Galen’s or Matt’s.
The King, finally received them into his house.
-“Welcome, Sir Kristof! And you, Malik, son of Merric! The word of your deeds has gone far and wide! You have proven yourself a great commander! And… who are these who travel with you from distance fiefs? If Malik has judged you worthy, then I shall embrace you as well! Welcome to Giran, gentlemen!”
-“My liege,…” –said Malik- “…these men are my officers and closest friends: Matthew of Aden, Lieutenant of the Army; and Velethir Galen of the Elven Kingdom, Emissary of the Ivory Tower”
-“Matthew of Aden, and Lord Galen of the Ivory Tower… I shall remember the names! Welcome both!”
-“My Lord…” –said Sir Kristof- “…Captain Malik has travelled a great deal to reach Giran so quickly… I am sure it will be best for him if you explain to him the reason of this summoning…”
-“Oh, yes! It is a most delicate and important matter! But I am relieved to see that you count with the support of knights from Aden and the Elven Kingdom as well…” –said Lord Astor- “I have asked Sir Erwen to elaborate on the situation. Sir Erwen, if you please…?”
Sir Erwen turned to one of his aides and grabbed a rolled map, which he gave to Malik.
“What you have achieved in Aden, Captain, has raised a great deal of opinions throughout the Kingdom” –he said- “Nobody thought it was possible to stop the Orcs from expanding, yet you managed to slow them down with nothing but recruits, fighting in a harsh environment. We have studied your methods and tactics, Captain, and together with the King and the Marshall of Aden we decided it was time for a change, if we wanted these methods to be totally effective”
As Erwen was exposing his plan, Malik gave a look at the rolled document. It contained a map showing the recent deployments of Orcish forces, and Aden’s counter-attack fronts, along with some statistical reports and status of the garrisons.
-“As you already know, the Orcs are an impressive fighting force in the Northern mountains…” –continued Sir Erwen- “…And they keep pressing over Aden’s frontiers by the day. And, as you can find out from that document, if we were to take an offensive posture with the forces we have right now, we would be obliterated. We require someone who can turn your small-scale skirmishes into a big-scale tactical operation. And unfortunately, we haven’t been able to locate anyone better qualified for the job, than you”
-“In other words, Malik…” –intervened Lord Astor- “…We need you to take the offensive of this war. We gathered loyal people from all the corners of Giran, Dion, Gludio and Gludin, and they are willing to follow you into battle. We ask you to train this people the same way you trained the recruits of Aden. We believe that, having Giran’s extension and protected position, you will have the time and the resources to develop an effective strategy without the threat of an imminent attack.”
Malik was surprised by the assignment, to say the least, but he was glad that someone recognized his effort as a soldier, and most important, as a commander. It took him a few seconds to think an appropriate answer.
-“My Lord…” –said Malik- “I… I am… I am flattered… and honored, for having your approval and confidence, but… I do not believe I am fit for this assignment… There surely is someone more experienced than I am…”
-“As I said before…” –said Erwen- “…the people here has heard of your deeds, Captain. Even if there is a more experience commander out there, it is you the one they are willing to follow. And that, my good Captain, is called confidence. And loyalty. And a confident army is much more valuable and effective than a strong army.”
-“You are a renowned figure, Malik…” –intervened the King- “…And you have seen first hand how the Orcs fight, and found a way to defeat them. We offer you the tool. It is up to you to fashion the masterpiece.”
Malik was overwhelmed… He turned to Matt and Galen, and found them with encouraging smiles on their faces. Or rather, found Matt that way. Galen was giving him a deep serious look. But on his way, he was showing Malik his support with a solemn nod. Sir Kristof was genuinely proud of his student. After a few seconds of thinking, Malik answered.
-“I accept the assignment, My Lord. I will lead that people against the Orcs, and return the Kingdom of Elmore to its rightful King.”
-“Excellent! I shall send word of your promotion to the Regiment’s officers. There is only one thing left to do here… Kneel, Malik son of Merric!”
Malik was excited for what he knew would come. His legs could not have resisted his weight much longer, so instead of kneeling, he rather allowed his body down. Lord Astor then turned to the second of the standing aides, who was holding a silk pillow, over which laid the longsword of the King.
-“… And, by word of Lord Astor, Head of the House of Tanor, let everyone know that his man is now a sworn vassal of the Kingdom! Rise, Sir Malik of Giran!”
And with a touch of his longsword over Malik’s shoulders, Lord Astor granted him the rights and privileges of a Royal Knight.

As they left the castle, heading back towards the city, Malik was still excited, and so overwhelmed by the events, that he could not think of anything to say. Ironically, it was Galen who found the right choice of words, and broke the silence.
-“An impressive career, and a most deserved promotion. Congratulations, Sir Malik!”
-“Indeed! You got to a very distinguished position of a King’s Court! Congratulations, my friend. And my respects, Commander! My sword is yours!” –said Matt.
-“And so is mine!” –replied Galen- “If you are really a true commander, you shall use all the help you can get”
-“Congratulations, Malik! I am sure your father would be proud of you! I, for one thing, already am!”
The phrase suddenly made Malik react. He had not yet given word to his family to let them know he was back. He stopped after a few steps, leaving his companions to overtake him.
-“My father…! I almost forgot! I have to let my family know I am here!”
-“Easy, son! Easy! I shall have one of my runners dispatched at your discretion! Just write the message and I will relay it…” –said Sir Kristof-
-“Thanks, Sir Kristof… But I would like to rest right now… All this sudden events… I believe I will feel better in the morning…”
The offer relieved Malik, but he was still eager to actually see them again. As he started to walk again along his comrades, something seemed to startle Galen this time, who suddenly stopped and raised his sight in direction of the city.
-“That sound…!” –he said, with an intriguing tone.
-“What sound?” –asked Sir Kristof.
-“I don’t hear any particular sounds…” –said Matt.
Over the distance, and in part dampened by the mass of the city, a high-pitched tone sounded, this time louder than before, and easy for everyone to hear.
-“Oh… That sound…” –replied Matt- “I think it’s coming from the barracks.”
-“No, it cannot be…” –said Kristof- “It is not time for the guard shift yet.”
-“It is not of human nature.” –said Galen.
The tone sounded again, for nearly a second, and louder than before.
-“Guard! What is happening?” –asked Sir Kristof to the guard on the tower of the barracks.
-“A party! Elvish banner! On the West gate!” –shouted the guard.
-“…Mirien…” –said Galen.
Galen doubled the pace to the West gate, followed closely by Malik, and Matt and Sir Kristof behind them. Upon reaching the outskirts of the city, they sighted the Elven detachment: some twenty soldiers, with the typical Elvish ribbon of the Mother Tree, and led by a female in golden armor. When they were near the gate, the lead female ordered her party to halt, and approached the present officers, followed closely by another female, who stayed behind her.
-“Nylanni Mirien, Elven Frontier Patrol” –she introduced herself to the small crowd, awaiting a response.
Malik, as the commissioned officer present, answered on behalf of the city.
-“Sir Malik, Royal Guard” –he said, stating his well-earned title- “What can I do for you, Captain?”
-“I believe it is us who can do something for you, Sir Malik. I am here under orders of the Ivory Tower”
Malik turned to Galen.
-“I am the Emissary sent by the Ivory Tower to report about this Human group...” –said Galen, to Mirien, and in response to Malik’s look.
-“I am aware of that, Lord Galen. My mission here is not related to information exchange. Please, allow me to introduce my tactics officer, Meitarin--...” –said Mirien, as she stepped aside.
Those few words were all Galen needed to identify the young lady who was standing behind Mirien. At the sight of the girl’s long blonde hair and green eyes, Galen’s face was suddenly transformed… As if whatever sort of shield of emotions he had, had collapsed momentarily.
-“…Kiska!?” –said Galen, finishing Mirien’s introduction
-“Suïl, Galen…”* –said the young girl, finding Galen’s eyesight- “…Much time has passed…”

(…To be Continued…)

[*"Suïl, Galen": Greetings, Galen]


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Fri Sep 30, 2011 10:44 pm 
Baron

Joined: Thu Jan 13, 2011 2:28 pm
Posts: 245
That's quite some effort you put here, congrats. And you write well :)

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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Tue Oct 04, 2011 2:20 am 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
Taygetus wrote:
That's quite some effort you put here, congrats. And you write well :)

thanks...
I don't even know why the heck I'm writing this down, because I don't believe I'll even finish the other video I'm working on, which is nearly five months behind schedule already.... doing this story as a cgi series, would be nearly impossible...
but... meh... it all works the same... when you finish something, you feel liberated.
so far, it's working :P

here are the profile ports of the new characters.

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Name: Meitarin Kiska

Gender: Elf, Female.

Mastery: Silver Ranger – Plainswalker

Personal Record: Sub-officer of the light infantry commanding the Elven detachment on Giran, sent at the beginning of Operation Hawkeye to support the Human trainings before the movilization towards Aden. During the early stage of the operation, her task was to oversee the training of new recruits and the distribution of personnel and equipment.
When the Dark Elves announced their alliance with the Orcs, she remained on Giran, putting her party under Malik's command, under the titling of 'jointed operatives', which sounded less evident than 'allies'.
She joined Malik and Arzag on the incursion into Dark Elven territory, on the attempt to rescue Galen from the enemy prison. During the Human retreat from Gludin and Gludio, her troop was the one harassing the advance of Legion 47 in order to buy Malik some time to prepare a defense.
When the Humans retook Gludin, it was evident the Elfs were as much involved in the fight as the Humans were.
During the following months, she assisted the rebuild and fortification of Gludin, and joined Malik and Gorqon on board the Valiant, during its incursions into enemy-controlled waters. She temporaly commanded the Valiant during the return to Gludin from the Kamael homeland, and stopped a Dark Elven attack over Soul Harbor. Such act of courage, in addition to Malik's negotiations, secured the entry of the Kamael in the war, in favor of the Humans.
After the capture of Dark Village and the later invasion of Rune, she headed North, alonside Arzag, Gorqon, Akhara and Ventor, in an attempt to contact the surviving Dwarves hiding in the mines
Leading the improvised legion, she attacked the Dwarven capital, leaving the Orcs of north Elmore cut off and vulnerable to the East offensive.
After retaking control of the Dwarven kingdom, she supported Mutu's revolt in the Orc Nation, against Kritak's regime.

Biography: Even though most Elfs have a look of highness and majestic, not all of them come from noble birth, or possess the privilege of getting the knowledge of the Gods. Kiska was one of these latter ones.
Since her youth (or rather, "early age", since Elfs don't actually get 'old') she had to endure the Council's denial, in several occasions, to her requests of admission into the Infantry. Since the entry as Officer was reserved to noblesse members or students from the Ivory Tower, Kiska had to settle with an entry as Scout in an inland regiment. Even so, nothing stopped her from pursuing a higher comission, and she volunteered in numerous missions. It was in one of these missions, during an incurssion into the old southern Ruins, where she had to take the lead of her party, after the commanding officer was wounded. Thanks to her ability to fashion unorthodox solutions (like building a splint with a bow string and a boot, for example) and to quickly understand the situation, she got the support of her superior officers and earned a comission as Lieutenant, which even though it wasn't an Officer's rank, it was much more than a mere Scout.
It was with this rank and responsability with which she arrived on Giran to "assist the Humans", a task which progressively turned into "saving the Humans" in more than one occasion: ambushing the 47 in the battle for Dion, sneaking into the Dark Fortress to support Malik, intercepting the Dark Elven frigate near Gludin, stopping Tretios before he got a hold over Ventor, or stopping Sendel before she got a shot on Malik.
Kiska never considered surrendering or retreating as an ultimate solution, always sure of herself and her power of will, sometimes tainted with arrogance, and ignoring the alternatives, something that would play against her during the crossing of the Monastery of Silence, where she could not anticipate Ventor's action which finally gave them the chance to escape alive from the temple. Even though Kiska never lost sight of her objectives, and never stopped prioritizing the well-being of her teammates over her own, she also never understood why such people existed who would rather sacrifice themselves to give her a chance of survival.


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Name: Nyllani Mirien.

Gender: Elf, Female.

Mastery: Swordsinger.

Personal Record: Leader of the Elven light infantry, operating in the Neutral Zone, north from Gludio, controlling any Dark excursion over Human or Elven territory.
During the start of the Northern Campaign, her company served as advanced observer along the Dark Elven border, until the deployment of Legion 47 over the native territories of north Gludin. It was during one of these patrols where she surprised and captured Arzag, who had fleed from the prison of Dark Village. After turning Arzag over to the authorities of Giran, she was sent to Gludio to reinforce the castle's garrison. During the following weeks, she would be the sole high-ranking commander with the ability to coordinate the defense of both Gludio and Gludin.
After Galen's rescue, she delegated her party's command on Kiska, and returned to the Elven Village, to inform the Council of the imminent advance of the Orcs, and to request reinforcements. Faced with the negative response of the Council, she resigned her comission and focused on gathering the support of loyal soldiers within the Elven army. With the resulting force, she marched on to Dion, attacking Kairon's position from the rear, and cutting the 47's advance down for good.

Biography: Arguably, the best there is from the Elven army, regarding Officers. Charismathic, decisive and with strong leadership ability.
Mirien comes from one of the richest families of the Elven kingdom, being her father Jaradine, direct assistant to Asterios. It would be complex to describe Mirien's complete life, since, of all the Elves taking part on the story, she is the eldest, so her service record spans several centuries. Summarizing, it is worth noting that Mirien was always loyal to her comrades and leaders. She was taught the meaning of duty and devotion since her youth, and she applied them constantly, no matter the case. That way it was, until the first war with the Darks broke up. During that conflict Mirien had to sacrifice many of her beliefs, principles and friends, for the hope of a "greater good", as her leaders claimed. Even though the Elves prevailed (relatively) over the Darks, the resulting Mirien started to question the objectivity of her superior officers, and began to weight where her loyalty was actually founded: if on her leaders, or her people.
It was this indecision during the second Dark invasion what caused her to definitely break her link to the militia and take part in the problem as an Elven citizen. Fortunately, many comrades and friends who had followed her in those early years of her career had also made the same questions to themselves, and joined her on her decision to support the Humans.
After the liberation of Dion, Mirien could no longer return to the Elven Village with her head held high, so she decided to project her life to a less structured living, more in contact with her peers.


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Fri Nov 04, 2011 1:45 pm 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
longly delayed post....
I had a video on the making but I hit a bump I didn't account for, and it's now delayed, so I figured I should better work again on the writing.
TBH.... the original development of this one, was much different. I had no idea it would be like this.

Chapter 4:
Made In Giran.


The great barracks of Giran had seen much more movement in that particular afternoon than on the last three months altogether. With the sole exception perhaps, of the day where the Seven Signs Festival took place. And that, implied including a lot of people.
The area around the fort was a general bustle: civilians, mostly merchants, hauling their carts back and forth along the tents there placed; hunters and veterans from the surrounding fiefs coming in small groups and joining the improvised encampment; soldiers and engineers carrying supplies and weapons between the armory and the city’s warehouse, making room for the newcomers. Among spears and bows, carts and horses, shovels and harvesters, one could count fifteen-hundred souls. And on top of that, the small Elven platoon, adding twenty-six infantry to the overall sum, including Lady Mirien and Lady Kiska.
Next to the relatively ordered crowd, was the main hall of the barracks, which albeit it was not so crowded as the outer plaza it was equally as busy, considering the scale of what was being discussed inside.
In the main hall were sitting, to a long rectangular table: on the West side, next to the wall leading to the outer hallway and the plaza, Lady Kiska, Lady Mirien and two young Elven soldiers; on the East side, which faced the city’s Cathedral, were Matt, Lord Galen and Sir Malik; on the North side, at the top of the table, Sir Kristof and Sir Erwen. Over the table there were some maps and documents brought by the Elfs. Having everyone’s attention, Mirien was exposing her report.
-“As you already know, gentlemen, the Orcish expansion poses a great military and economical threat. Based on reports from the Ivory Tower, and on our commanders’ evaluations at the capital, we concluded that given the current course of the situation…”
Mirien was a trained and disciplined officer, but the thought of facing an invasion had her deeply and truly worried.
-“…given the current situation,…” –she continued- “…our position shall be seriously threatened over the next two months. The control of trade routes to and from the Dwarven kingdom is literally non-existant. Without supplies of weapons or raw materials, nothing would prevent the Orcs from marching over the defenseless Aden and Giran. We could be witnessing the prelude of a new upcoming war for the control of all Aden, only much more worse than our previous conflict with the Darklings.”
For Malik and Galen, Mirien’s resolution was a blow they had been trying to avoid, up until that moment. But if someone was to be trusted for applying an accurate judgement, even if it was difficult to accept and consider, that said someone ought to be an Elf.
-“How do we even know the Orcs are actually planning to invade Aden?” –interrupted Matt- “I mean, for all we know, their fight is with the Dwarves, not with us.”
-“Rune and Goddard have intervened.” –explained Sir Erwen- “Even if the Orcs have been the mastermind behind all this, they have arranged it for us Humans to take the bait, and we did. We are already knee-deep in their game.”
Sir Erwen’s discomfort was more than evident.
-“Lady Mirien,…” –continued Sir Erwen- “…along with Aden’s Marshall and Sir Malik over here, we have reached your very same conclussion. The Orcs have started this war. It is time for us to decide our move.”
-“That is the reason why we are here. The news of your campaign have reached the Elven kingdom, and our commanders resolve that a joined effort would be more effective.”
-“You mean, ‘another’ joined effort?” –inquired Sir Kristof.
Sir Kristof’s question was, at the same time, accurate and inopportune. Although it was true that an alliance was the suitable decision to make, it was also true that a former alliance existed between Humans and Elves, against the Dark Elven menace, and said allegiance resulted in many subsequent conflicts. Plus, the fact of asking such a question in front of an Elven emissary made it even more inopportune.
Mirien, aware of the Humans' tendency to imprevisible behavior, understood the knight’s question, and politely responded.
-“Yes, that is what I mean.” –she said, not without showing a bit of discomfort in her face- “Even if my people want to stay neutral on this matter, this time we face a race that has already conquered two kingdoms, and seriously threatens another three. This time it is not about a fanatical separatist riot, Sir Kristof. This time it is about a race of warriors, led by warriors, and bred for combat!”
Sir Kirstof began to regret asking his question. The renowned knight had previously served with the Elves, but he was reluctant to rely on active help from the Sons of Eva. As a good Human, he had a pride and a reputation to live up to.
-“This time, Sir Kristof, there might not be a next time.” –concluded Mirien.
Mirien’s reply was, to say the least, demolishing. If there was still any doubt about the Humans being on a compromised position, such exposition had just solved them all.
There were some seconds of silence, where Sir Kristof and Sir Erwen weighted the options at hand. On one side, to fight the Orcs on Giran and Aden the way Malik had fought them in the frontier. On another, to fight in the fields of Aden, alongside Elven warriors, coordinating a large-scale campaign. And last but not least, to join knowledge, resources and personnel with the race of the Elves, developing the best of both nations, to finally take the fight over to the Orcs.
None of those paths would appear to be easy, but at least with the help of the Elves, the Humans would have a chance to succeed.
-“Milady…” –asked Malik, at last- “…How do you suggest we proceed?”
If anything Malik had learned from General Eldon, it was to trust those who speak their mind with confidence. Sometimes, the best way to resolve a matter was to let it flow undisturbed. If whomever presented the problem did already have the solution, then the problem itself was no more. If, on the other hand, he or she did not have the solution, then arguing over something without foundation or alternatives would not resolve the problem either. One way or another, it would all be decided by the reasoning of whomever was exposing the matter. Mirien then went straight to the point.
-“First thing, establish a solid position. Giran needs to recover those resources formerly imported from Elmore. Then, define a command procedure. No matter how spread your men are, or how harsh the terrain is. Everyone must be able to fight as one unit, and must have a common end to achieve.”
For Malik, fighting alonside Matt and Galen had been like playing a game of cards. A sight or a sign had been enough for them to understand each other’s thinking. But getting Giran to produce the resources they needed, should prove harder a task to acomplish.
-“My company is at your disposal, Sir Erwen.” –said Mirien.
-“Excelent!” –said Sir Erwen, and then spoke to Malik- “Sir Malik, you and Lady Mirien shall take chage of the city’s operations, and the new recruit’s training. Sir Kristof, arrange your divisions to include those who complete the training. Form up a mixed force. Make every company include trained infantry and fresh recruits.”
-“Aye, Sir!” –said Sir Kristof, as he stood up- “Gentlemen…? Ladies…? If you would excuse me…?”
All the present ones rose from their seats, and saluted the noble Knight. After his departure, Sir Erwen spoke his final statement.
-“So be it! We shall give this campaign the name of Operation Hawkeye: the vigilant falcon which shall strike the Orc when he less expect it! You have your orders, ladies and gentlemen. May Einhasad protect you!”

As Malik, Galen, Matt, Kiska and Mirien exited the barracks and headed to the plaza, there were still some issues at hand among them. Particularly, between the Elven Lord and the young Lieutenant from Aden, who had priorly spotted a slight change in the Elf’s behavior and, considering the rarity of these emotional demonstrations, was now trying to corner Galen into speaking his feelings out.
-“Alright… let me get this straight… You say you knew Lady Kiska since she was a child, right?”
-“That is correct.”
-“And, that you both knew Lady Mirien since you two were young kids, and Lady Mirien held the rank of Major Captain… Right?”
-“Correct…”
-“But, how can she now hold the rank of Captain if, as you told me, she was never demoted?”
-“She was indeed never demoted. In fact, she was being considered for a promotion.”
-“Sheesh… Malik…? A little help here…?”
As this quarrel took place among the male officers, behind them, the two young ladies had also been having some private conversation of their own.
-“Are you sure it will not affect your performance?” –asked Mirien.
-“I am.” –replied the young girl of the emerald-green eyes- “Lord Galen and I have known each other for a long time. However, we both agreed that for the sake of our friendship, it would be better if we put any personal experiences behind us.”
-“Be it as may… I trust your judgement in this matter, Kiska, but bear in mind: what you keep secret might one day struggle to find its way out. If you should choose to share the burden of whatever matter is bothering you, it might result in a better way of dealing with that future struggling.”
-“I appreciate the advice, Captain, but you shall have to let me deal with this matter on my own.”
Having been walking behind the three soldiers in front of them, they were now at hearing distance of the chatter taking place among their male counterparts.
-“No, no, no, you just said she was serving on the Western company, and as I recall, the Western company was the one responsable for repelling Lilith’s invasion over what is now the Neutral Zone… Am I the only one who went to school here? Because, I’m not seeing the sense out of this…” –said Matt, visibly upset for not being able to understand Galen’s riddling explanation.
-“As surprising as you might find it, my good Lieutenant, everything we just stated is nothing but true. I knew Lady Mirien when she was the Major Captain of the Western company, and it was indeed the Western company the one that confronted Lilith during the battle of the Neutral Zone, in what you might know as ‘The Shillien Riot’”
-“Alright, so why do I feel you are still not making sense?” –asked Matt, completely puzzled- “I mean, if you say she was promoted after that, how can she be a Captain now and not a Commander? I mean, the Shilen Riot happened over eighty years ago, right? So, either you were not a young kid, or you did not met during that time period. Forgive me, but I feel something is escaping me now…”
Malik was amused by this little logic skirmish. He had known Matt for a couple of months, but he already had him for a person who wouldn’t give up a fight that easily, even if he was in a disadvantage. And Galen… Well, there is no record of someone ever understanding the Elven logic.
-“The time registry for you Humans is different to that we Elves use, but I believe your calculation is correct… Eighty Human years might be accurate…”
-“So, you are both over… What…? Sixty years old?” –guessed Matt.
-“Fifty-two years, two months and thirteen days, to be exact. And Lady Kiska is fifty years, six months and seven days old. That is, by Human standards.”
-“My goodness…! And I though General Eldon was not looking his age!” –said Matt, finally understanding Galen’s reasoning- “But, how can Lady Mirien hold a lesser rank than she held then? That still escapes me…”
Behind him, a female voice got him the answer he was looking for.
-“I quit!”
Mirien had arrived just in time to overhear the last counterpoint between Galen and Matt, but the young Lieutenant was so intrigued by the answer he got that he did not notice the young Elven Captain behind him. Mirien then began to clarify the story for Matt.
-“After the battle of Cloud Mountain Ridge the Darklings and the Humans met in Black Rock Hill to try and settle the dispute, and avoid another bloodshed. They were secretely trying to let us Elves take the merit of the victory, but their general Thifiell somehow figured that out and did not listen to the Humans’ proposal, so the Humans stepped down from the fight, and we Elves fought our way through the Swampland and defeated the Darklings at their School of Dark Arts. After that, I realized that I could not be promoted for that action, so I tried to put some distance from that place. I… I never liked striking a killing blow to an already weakened enemy… So I quit…”
Malik and Matt were impressed for such an act of righteousness. So driven by an emotion such as honor or self-respect, specially coming from the logic-driven race the Elves were known to be.
-“…When I got word that the Humans were once again engaged in a dangerous conflict, I felt obligated to return the courtesy of counceling them about military matters.” –concluded Mirien.
-“And you have done so with remarkable dedication.” –Malik comforted her, and then spoke to the present group- “Which reminds me… We are still in need of specialized craftmen to put Lady Mirien’s plan in motion! Giran might not have expert blacksmiths or carpenters, but it does have a incredible amount of people.”
-“We should focus on gathering every able man we can find. Anything from hunters, to miners, to tailors.” –said Mirien.
-“I’m sorry, milady, but… you said tailors?” –inquired Matt.
-“Of course!” –explained Mirien- “Who do you expect will sew your new field garment?”
-“I was thinking on something along the lines of… you know… a blacksmith, maybe? This is the Orcs we’re talking about! These people wear heavy armor as their night suit!”
-“True…” –said Galen- “…but, if we expect to field a new fighting force to face the Orcs hand-to-hand, we should give them the option and ability to execute a fast retreat, if need be. And the heavier the gear, the slower they would move.”
-“Not to mention the harshness of the terrain over in the hills of Aden.” –concluded Malik.
Matt did not answer directly. He instead agreed with Malik, by making a slight head shake, in approval of the comment.
-“Lieutenant, I trust that you are handy in the art of fighting with light weaponry?” –Mirien asked him.
-“I am. You see, in the plains of Aden, there is really not much need for anything more than a sharp blade.”
-“Excelent!” –said Mirien- “Then you and Kiska shall be the perfect choice to supervise the combat trainings. Do you agree, Sir Malik?”
-“No objections from me…” –agreed Malik- “You heard the lady, Matt… they are all yours.”
Malik’s statement made the delight of the young Lieutenant’s. If his administration succeeded, he would be rewarded in both Aden and Giran, and maybe, given the title of Knight in one of those kingdoms.
-“I’ll hold your word on that! I’ll remind you of that when we give you the victory!” –joked Matt.
After some nods of courtesy, Kiska and Matt started to head back towards the barracks, in order to start their assignments, while Mirien, Galen and Malik kept walking, past the city’s plaza, and towards the housing areas, in search of their so needed craftmen.
As they walked past the plaza’s gate, they all shared they thoughts about the upcoming developments.
-“I give him a week.” –said Galen.
-“Oh, you are too kind…” –replied Mirien, smiling with the thought of that statement.
-“Why would you said that?” –asked Malik.
-“Kiska can quote the entire training manual on her sleep… He would rather quit than have her lecturing him!”

Although Matt was accustomed to the silent and dry nature of the Elfs, there was something different about Kiska. Any attempts of conversation he had priorly made with Galen had gone relatively satisfied, even if he merely recieved a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ as a response. And he knew that given the chance of an interesting topic, Galen might actually engage in some exchange of opinions. But this time, all his attempts of small talk with the young elven girl had been unsuccesful. This time, he felt as if Kiska was not there at all.
As they entered the barracks’ weapon stockpile, he tried once more to get one word out of the young lady.
-“First time in Giran for you I guess?” –asked Matt.
Kiska did not answer. She was busy inspecting the sword racks.
-“Yeah… Well… As they say… Majestic city… Everyone knows it…”
Matt kept talking. Somehow trying to ‘tire her up’ as he had previously done with Galen once, in spite of triggering some reaction from her.
-“…my father brought me here once, when I was a little kid… can’t remember much, tho…”
Kiska was now touching the carefully packed bows, as if she was trying to ‘feel’ their state.
-“…Man of honor, my father…” –Matt went on- “…He taught me all I know about tools and weapons… He might not have been a rich man, you know…? But he always tried to make us live a satisfying life…, me and my mother…?”
The elven girl did not seem to be listening to him. As Matt changed the subject from Giran, to Aden, to his childhood, to his fondness of hunting, to the battle of the Border Outpost, Kiska took her time to inspect each and every other weapon in the garrison’s stockpile. Once she had finished, she headed back towards the gate, and to the outer plaza, followed closely by Matt. As Kiska stood a few seconds in front of the outer gate, staring at the camping site populated by the future recruits, Matt continued with his now accurately qualified ‘soliloquy’.
-“Would you just look at those souls… I recognize a skilled man when I see one, and I tell you, this people is convinced they are the best at what they do. They might not be soldiers, just yet… But it takes much more to make a soldier than just the skill to weild a sword. Yes… These men have the will to fight for a cause… and they will give the best out of them to achieve that…”
As Matt was carried away by his thoughts and, for a second, less focused on talking to Kiska directly, she suddenly spoke the thought she had been anylizing up until that moment.
-“Goose feathers.” –she said.
-“…I’m… I’m sorry?” –asked Matt, puzzled.
Kiska’s completely random response got Matt’s attention more effectively than his prior chatter got Kiska’s. That, and the sweet tone of the girl’s voice made Matt take a few seconds to order his thoughts. Kiska repeated her previous statement.
-“Goose feathers. We need arrows.”
Matt’s face expression depicted his complete disorientation.
-“The weapon racks?” –said Kiska, regarding their prior visit to the armory- “There were plenty of bows, and swords, but very few arrows. Look at the people. Most of them have their own bow. Some of them are pretty new and sturdy, but some others would have to be replaced. I estimate we have enough bows to cover these replacements, but we shall have more arrows made as soon as possible. Now, I can see there are enough oak trees outside the city that we can chop down to get the wood we need, and for an effective training course we shall need plenty of arrows to account for any missed or broken one. We can easily recover those fired over the practice targets, therefore reducing the minimal amount of supplies needed, but if we did that, we would be putting the arrows themselves under heavy constant stress because of the repeated handling and shooting, and the most fragile and vulnerable part of an arrow is the fletching. We can make training arrows using common pidgeon feathers which are smaller and equally effective in making the arrow accurate, but they are not as resistant as goose feathers. We are standing ten braces away from the nearest natural lake, and geese will be crowding these waters in no time. We have plenty of hunters to recruit. Geese and fletchers. That should be our starting point.”
Matt suddenly became silent. It took him a second to understand the exact mechanics behind the reasoning of the Elven girl, but once he did, he thought about the sole thing anyone would have thought in that same situation: ‘Arrows. How could I have missed that?’
Once he found the correct choice of words, he was able to respond.
-“Amazing…” –he said- “…And you figured all that by just looking at those bows in the armory?”
-“It is not just about looking, actually…” –explained, at last, the young girl- “…I… I have the ability to see some things that most people would not understand in a common situation. For example… you see that merchant over there?”
Kiska promptly pointed Matt in the direction of an elderly merchant of fruit.
-“I see him.” –said Matt.
The man in question was hauling a big wooden cart. An open cart of four wheels, commonly seen being hauled by horses or striders, loaded with some tall baskets containing apples, oranges and grapes. The cart was full, with nine baskets tightly packed together.
-“He’s smuggling high-grade suede.” –sentenced Kiska.
Another random and far-fetched response that left Matt with a torrent of different thoughts in his mind.
-“Smugg—-?… Why would you say that?”
-“How old would you guess he is?” –asked Kiska, with the intention of testing and teaching the young Lieutenant.
-“I don’t know… Fifty, maybe?” –guessed Matt
-“I would guess fifty-four. Pretty elderly to be hauling such a cart around. Even more if you consider the fact that the cart is full with fruit baskets. Fruit is pretty heavy on its own compared to other equally-sized goods, and it becomes really difficult to handle in large numbers, yet this man seems to have no problem in moving a cart that normally requires a strider to displace it.”
-“Hmmm… I must admit… That is some solid reasoning.”
Matt was now listening to the young Elven girl with founded curiosity. Not even Galen would have ever thought that this scenario would be conceivable. Much less, the very own Matt, when he first met Kiska.
-“As we see fruit packed on those baskets, the reasonable thinking suggests that the whole cart is loaded with fruit, right?” –asked Kiska, slowly bringing Matt to his enlightment.
-“That would be the logical guess, yes…”
-“But, if those baskets would be full, the cart would be too heavy for him to move…”
-“Indeed…”
-“So, even if we see the outer portion of the content, we cannot see the inner portion, yet we assume they are filled with only what it appears to be: fruit. My guess, is that the lower part of those baskets is filled with something much, much more lighter. We are in a regional trading post, where merchants from all corners of Giran come to sell their goods. In this time of the season, the fruit gets spoiled very fast if not sold quickly. And considering the potential clients he could have, namely hunters, workers and soldiers, dryed meat and fish would mean a faster and more profitable business for him.”
-“Unless… he didn’t care about profiting from fruit…” –said Matt.
-“Exactly. He is trying to sell something much more valuable, by pretending to have his much less valuable and less attractive goods at plain sight. In a market like this, weapons and jewels are the highest priced goods, followed by fine clothing and pottery. He does not need such a cart to carry jewels, and pottery is a very common business. The weapons business is a very profitable one, but also a very demanding one. He would not be able to work a forge at his age.”
Matt took over the final part of the explanation, applying his own reason and logic.
-“That leaves us, with fine clothing… The roads to the Dwarven kingdom are closed, which means that Aden is cut-off from any quality crafts… Im guessing… footwear? Dress boots for the noblesse?”
-“High-grade suede.” –concluded Kiska, looking at Matt in approbation.
Matt had just complemented Kiska’s reasoning by himself. It did not take much for him to put the pieces together, provided he had the right clues and teachings.
-“Milady, I understand you were not born with the gift of magic, but you certainly hold the skills of a sorceress!” –said Matt, and politely bowing with admiration, he turned around to take care of the slippery smuggler- “Guards! To me!”

At the other side of the city, Malik, Mirien and Galen were scouting the different shops, looking for any able craftsman. So far, they had spoken with two tailors, one blacksmith, one carpenter, three thatchers, one fletcher, two jewelers and one baker, of which only the blacksmith and one thatcher agreed to provide their services to the military. They all seemed to welcome the initial idea of a steady income and a fixed contract, but they all ended up turning the jobs down whey they were told they would be working for the army. And the reason for that was, that the kingdom of Giran was not the pride of the realm when it came to military strength. Even if Giran could afford a large garrison because of the amount of Adena that the taxings provided, most of the collected money ended up being sent back to Aden, to enrich those who funded both cities’ commerce.
At the southern-most part of the city, a frustrated trio of young officers had completed their search among the available artisans.
-“Well… that is the last one I know about…” –said Malik.
The small party had been around all afternoon, and after another failed visit to another carpenter, there was little more to do than to report back to the barracks, empty-handed.
-“I would never have guessed that such a big and renowned city would be so full of uncooperative people…” –said Mirien, in an evident display of both surprise and displasure.
-“The city has not changed much since I left…” –said Malik- “Very few shops have been opened recently, and those that existed prior to them already have their own working standards…”
If anyone would know better about the city’s inner affairs, it would be Malik. He had grown up around those walls, and seen merchants come and go for years.
-“Maybe we are handling this in the wrong way…” –said Galen- “…Maybe our mistake was to talk to those who are able and available, instead of talking to those who are able and willing…”
-“What do you mean?” –asked Malik.
-“I mean, that we are standing not a hundred steps away from the city’s inn. And, at this point of the day… what do craftmen often do?”
Malik quickly picked the Elf’s idea.
-“Gather for a refreshment! Alright,… drinks are on me, people!”
As they entered the inn, they soon realized their prior approach had been wrong. The small hall was crowded with merchants and artisans from all around the country. There were farmers from Floran, fishermen from Gludin, builders from Gludio… The largest and most diverse group of workers they could ask for.
-“I’ll talk to the innkeeper, you guys scout around…” –said Malik.
As Malik walked to the keeper’s working place, Galen and Mirien walked their way around the present clients. There was not much need to any talking to be made. Sometimes, the best way to learn about anything, is to listen. And the Elven hearing is a priviledged one.

-“…Me seen it with me very eyes! A giant fire bird!...” –said a somewhat drunken hunter from Oren

-“No, no! The bet is ten! Pay or fold!...” –stated a gambler from Dion.

-“…Ye see, laddie, woodworking is a simple art! Ye get me the wood, I get ya yer boat…” –offered a carpenter from Talking Island.

All around the place, offers were made, statements were assured, chatter went on and off.
At the drinking bar, Malik was trying to get some help from the keeper.
-“What can I get you, Captain? I trust you are off-duty already, huh?” –said the owner of the place.
-“A cup of molasses would do, thanks.” –said Malik.
Since he was technically still on duty, a non-alcoholic drink seemed to be the best choice. At least, to begin with. As the keeper poured the yellow-ish beverage in a wooden mug, a sweet aroma of fruit juice rose from it, and found its way into Malik’s nose. After such a long day, even a simple drink like that could mean much relaxation to a tired back.
-“There you go, Cap’n! On the house!”
-“Why, thank you!” –said Malik, and as he took a sip from it, he looked for a way to start a chatter- “Busy evening?”
-“Oh, I’ve seen worse…” –said the innkeeper- “…I heard you guys gathered a good deal of folks back there in the fort… That could mean some business for this place!”
-“Yes, well… We are still short of some needed people who you don’t gather up that easily…”
-“Well, if there is any such people currently in the city, they’re going to come here sooner or later!...” –said the innkeeper, and then proudly added- “We serve the best roasted windsus you’ll get in all Giran!”
-“Good to know that…!” –said Malik- “You seem to see many people come and go… You don’t happen to know any able craftmen, do you?”
-“I don’t know… What are you looking for?”
-“We are looking for people willing to work with us… You know, exclusive military providers? We are reshaping our fighting forces, and we are going to need supplies. You might have heard about the trading routes…”
-“Yeah… Bad news those… I heard the Orcs have stirred up the hive, up there…”
-“Yes… Well, we need to craft those goods we cannot buy anymore… So, if you happen to know any metal workers, carpenters…? Maybe some tailors…?”
The innkeeper gathered his thoughts about the people he knew, and trying to give a hand to the young Captain, he pointed him towards some present clients.
-“Well, uhmmmm… That fellow over there? The one with the blue shirt? They say he’s a pretty good miller… He might know something about heavy machinery and woodworking… And there’s that young man there… I heard that he’s a skinner… He might be willing to craft some leather for you…”
-“A miller and a skinner… Well, it’s a start…” –said Malik, somewhat expecting a better selection of men- “Do you happen to know any fletchers or smiths?”
-“Hmmm… There is a fletcher outside the city… Goes by the name of Mark… He’s a shy Darkling, but he comes here often, every Friday… You might want to talk to him…”
The innkeeper scratched his head, and faced one of the corners of the place. He seemed dubious about something.
-“And, uhmm… There is this dwarf over there…?”
The man pointed Malik in the direction of a grown Dwarven stranger, sitting near one of the walls, under the place’s stairway. He wore a rusty plate armor, somewhat buckled and scratched, visibly of Dwarven hand craft. By the looks of his face and the jars of beer still on his table, he had been sitting there for a couple of hours at least.
-“…He arrived about four days ago…” –explained the innkeeper- “He said his name is Gorqon, and he seems to be a warsmith… He asked for a room, but he didn’t have any Adena with him, so he gave me his war axe… I figured I could sell it and make some coins out of it… If you’re looking for a worker in need of job and pay, I’d say he’s worth the try…”
Malik weighted the options for a second. If there was anyone who knew about craftmanship, that would be a Dwarf. But on the other hand, a varied selection of men from Giran might prove more resourceful than a single Dwarf. Satisfied with the exchange of information, Malik stood up from his stool and headed away, not without rewarding the helpful innkeeper first.
-“Thank you, sir… Suit yourself…” –he said, as he put a few coins of Aden over the drinking bar-
-“Oh, thank you, Captain!” –answered the innkeeper.
At a signal of Malik, Galen and Mirien gathered around him, and shared their findings.
-“Anything…?” –asked Malik.
-“There is a master carpenter from Gludio who agreed to work for us, if we pay his debt to Giran’s moneylender.” –said Galen.
-“That can be arranged… Tell him to report to the barracks tomorrow morning, we’ll see what we can do…”
-“Done.” –said Galen, as he walked back towards the man in question.
-“How about you, Milady?” –said Malik to Mirien.
-“I found a fisherman from Talking Island. He is leaving soon, but he promised to carry word of our search overseas. It might help if we spread the word over to other realms. Did you get anything from the innkeeper?”
-“He knows these men pretty well… He said that we might find that Dwarf useful…” –said Malik, as he pointed Mirien in that direction, with a shake of his head- “…You go back to the fort and check on Kiska and Matt’s state. I’ll try talking to that Dwarf.”
-“Understood.”
Mirien took Galen along as she left the place, and Malik headed over to the darkened corner where the lonely Dwarf was sitting. As he approached the drinking warsmith, he could notice a big bag on the floor, containing what appeared to be a hardened hammer. Clearly, his war axe was valuable, but his hammer held an even higher value to him. Malik thought he had found the right subject.
-“Are you the one they call Gorqon?” –he asked the Dwarf.
-“Who’s askin’!?” –answered the Dwarf, mid-way between drunken and irritated.
-“Sir Malik of Giran, Captain of the Royal Guard.” –said Malik.
By stating his full rank and title, Malik thought that the presence of an officer would help to soften the Dwarf’s unstable temper.
-“Are you arresting me, Captain?” –joked the Dwarf, as he kept drinking his beer.
-“Not unless I have to… I only want to ask you some questions.”
-“I don’t make friends with those who don’t drink!” –stated the Dwarf- “If you want to talk, sit and share a beer with me! Otherwise, walk your way!”
Malik did not want the opportunity to slip away from his hands, but he also did not want to be rude and anger the Dwarf. So, after a signal to the innkeeper, he sat to the dwarf’s table.
-“Well young man…!” –said the Dwarf- “I must admit you are a stubborn fellow! I will answer you questions, if you pay the next round!”
The innkeeper arrived with two mugs of beer, which he put on the table.
-“Are you Gorqon the Warsmith?” –asked Malik.
-“I am! I was a warrior blacksmith over in the Dwarven Kingdom, not long ago! I fought the fierce Orcs in the mountains with every last breath I had, but they were way too strong and way too many…!”
The statement of his deeds seemed to have an effect on Gorqon’s temper. He looked somewhat saddened by his fortune.
-“I take it that you are handy in the working of metals and wood…” –asked Malik.
-“Young man, I was handling a hammer before I was walking! My family had been crafting weapons since before the Shillien revolution!” –stated Gorqon with pride, and then got carried away by the thought- “…Ahh, bold people, these Darklings… At least they achieved what they fought for…!”
-“Why would you say that…?” –asked Malik, trying to loosen the Dwarf’s tongue.
-“I was a soldier against the invading Orcs! I was supposed to fight them to the death, if needed!” –said Gorqon, now visibly angry with himself- “And look at me… I was made a prisoner in my very own ground… I was ashamed by my worst enemies! And what did I do? Did I fight back and regained my honour? No!... I fled!... I ran away!... And now I’m sitting alone… Away from my people… I should have died that day…!”
Gorqon was visibly shaken by his emotions. It had occurred to Malik, that his drinking might be the result of his contained anger. Maybe, with the correct motivation, he would put his strength to good use again.
-“So, if you had the chance…” –said Malik- “…if you had the chance, you would try to return the blow back to the Orcs…”
-“’Return the blow!?’… If I had the chance, I would kick them off my country if I could! I would wipe them off Elmore all along!”
-“Alright, alright, I get the picture of it…” –said Malik, trying to calm Gorqon down- “You see, we need people like you… People who can help us fight the Orcs back, and out of Rune and Goddard.”
-“They’ve taken Goddard too?” –asked the suprised Dwarf- “Ohh… I had hoped their garrison would prevail… Sad news for the realm… Sad news…”
-“Indeed… We are considering the posibility of them invading Aden and Giran… We are running out of time…! Will you help us? I can grant you a reasonable and steady payment, and the benefits of asylum.”
-“Help you? Buddy, you give me an anvil and a hammer, and I shall make you the toughest armor and shiniest sword you have ever seen! I shall teach you the secrets of Dwarven engineering, so that you can rain hell on those despicable Orcs! Aye! Give me a chance to weild an axe, and I shall strike those Orcs as hard as Gran Kain’s lightning!”
Malik, being sure that his duty shift had ended long ago, felt safe to finally make a toast with the Dwarven blacksmith.
-“Deal!” –he said, as he rose his cup- “To victory, then!”
-“To friendship, buddy! You have just gave me my life back! And I shall never forget it!” –said Gowron, and returned the toast- “Cheers!”

Back in Giran’s fort, now a quiet place given the time of day, the people was now slowly gathering around improvised campfires, for a collective dinner. On the other side of the walls, the garrison’s soldiers were doing the same, around the oil lanterns which lit the upper battlements, for heat and conversation. Since the hard trainings would start the morning after, there was no harm done in leaving their posts for a few moments, in spite of a relaxing snack.
Just a few minutes before the city’s curfew, Galen and Mirien showed up at the fort’s gate.
-“Why, look at that!” –said a very dirty Matt, regarding the late return of his comrades- “We spent the afternoon sweating our shirts out, and you guys go having a good time around the city! Now you cook dinner while we take a breath, will you?”
As Mirien and Galen entered the inner plaza of the fort, Kiska and Matt exited the main hall, carrying a heavy wooden crate, along with two other soldiers.
-“That is the usual point of the chain of command, Lieutenant. We say, you do.” –said Galen, taking his chance to mock Matt this time. “How are the preparations going?”
-“We gave word about your search, but none of them seemed to be any better than the craftmen we have already in the city.” –explained Matt, regarding te recruits- “We figured they would be of better use as field specialists. You know, applying their skills to the battle instead of over here?”
-“Pretty clever resolution, Lieutenant.” –remarked Mirien- “Any modifications to the training routines?”
-“They all seem to know the basics.” –said Kiska- “There are some veterans who could act as platoon seargents, therefore speeding up the training.”
-“Fine, then! So, we are not standing up that bad after all! Anything else?”
-“We made an inventory of the weapon and tools supplies.” –said Matt, with a confident look towards Kiska- “We resolved that we have enough weapons to account for any replacements, but it would help if we could double their amount. Also, we are short of arrows… We should be recruiting fletchers as soon as possible.”
Saying that, Matt gave a soft nod towards Kiska, as in approving and supporting her early judgement.
-“Captain Malik has taken care of that.” –said Mirien- “As we left him, he was about to recruit a Dwarven warsmith to our cause so, he should return any minute now.”
-“Great!” –said Matt- “Now, can we please take a break from this haulings? I need to wash myself…”
With a soft smile, Mirien left the two young officers take a breath.
-“Lord Galen,…” –said Kiska- “…May I have a word with you?”
Galen, even tho as serious as always, couldn’t help but act surprised by the request.
-“Of course…” –he said.
Kiska followed the elven Lord away from the open plaza, towards the gate of the inner hall, and into a more private and quiet place.
Once they were in a safer setting, Kiska took the initiative.
-“I…” –she said, and took a deep breath- “I am sure you know what I have to say…”
-“I have a rough idea…” –said Galen.
-“I know we agreed to stay in good terms, but… I… I just cannot stop thinking about that…”
-“Me neither…”
-“Look… If I had the chance or the power to be some place else, I would… I know I would… But that would not make me stop thinking about you…”
As she said that, she slowly walked closer towards Galen, but she was still visibly fighting against her impulse to launch herself into the arms of the sole Elf she had ever loved.
Galen, trying to keep his mind cold, avoided Kiska and walked towards the nearby window.
-“These years we have been apart…” –he said- “I… I tried to find an explanation to all this… A way of… accepting… or rejecting… what I feel. But the more I think of it, the more I got the same answer over and over again… We just do not belong together!”
Now, Galen looked deeply sorry as he made that statement. In his heart, he knew that another answer could be found. But in his mind, he knew that choosing that one would mean suffering for both of them. At least, this way, the only one dealing with the heavier burden would be him.
-“How can you say that!” –said Kiska, as she started to let her emotions take over.
Galen kept talking, with his back turned to her.
-“I am a wizard, destined to keep the secrets of the universe safe. You…” –he said, as he finally got the strenght to turn around and face her- “You are a lovely girl. And I know that your feelings are true and pure. I know! But my mind must always be mine to control! I cannot let you take a place on it, because if I do…”
For one tiny second, Galen got carried away by the moment, and grabbed Kiska’s hands. Despite knowing that Kiska would never change her feelings towards him, Galen couldn’t help but hope for the worst: that Kiska would love him so much, that she would follow him into whatever situations he might run into, and perish because of him.
-“…if I do,…” –he continued- “…I would not be able to take you away from it. And I would not forgive myself if a bad judgement of mine made you suffer…”
-“Galen…”
-“I am leaving, Kiska…”
-“Wh—-…What?” –she said, with a whisper.
The dry news caught the young elven girl by surprise. Just as twenty years ago, Galen was leaving. Once again. Suddenly she felt the need to walk away from him.
-“I am leaving.” –said Galen- “I am returning to the Capital tomorrow… I then expect to be sent back to the Ivory Tower…”
-“Why?” –said Kiska- “…Why can not you just try to resolve what you feel? We feel the same thing, you said that…! You know my feelings will not change!”
-“Yes, for Eva! I know!” –said Galen, now fighting both his mind and his heart- “And I also know how I would react if I gave way to my feelings! I am a wizard of the Ivory Tower! I must keep my soul strong!”
Kiska did not want to lose his lover again. But she did understand the burden of being a wizard, and the dangers of letting one’s mind slip out of control. Even so, she couldn’t understand why the Elf who once fought for her would now walk away just like that. With a deep pain on her heart, Kiska realized the solution to her problem.
-“Alright…” –she said- “…Leave. Walk away. Just like you did before!”
And saying that, she finally gave way to her emotions, and let her anger out. Although she couldn’t have said whether she was angry with Galen, or with herself.
-“You wizards of the Tower are nothing but cowards! Always hiding behind your walls of books! Your… your… spiritual teachings! And you cannot even let your heart drive your life! It is the Tower the one doing that!” –she said, with tears on her emerald eyes- “…In the end, it is as everyone says…! The Tower is nothing but the ruin of this world…! I just wish the Tower had never existed…!”
And at the verge of crying, she left the place, towards the upper level and her chamber, leaving a spirit-broken Galen alone, and with that very last sentence still echoing in his mind: ‘I wish the tower had never existed…!’. With a deep breath, Galen gathered his strenght, and tried to put his mind at ease again.
-“…Sometimes, I wish that too…”

(To be continued…)


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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 4:07 pm 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
re-taking this endeavour, in this 2012...
I've been tampering with the motion mixer in 3dsmax, the time tools of afterfx, and different video formats, just to get to know my business.... and it turned out ok...



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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Fri Jan 13, 2012 11:49 pm 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
proof of concept for magic skills...

just some sprites on after effects, no big deal...



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 Post subject: Re: Rising Heroes: L2 Fan Fiction (CGI)
PostPosted: Sun Feb 05, 2012 4:59 pm 
Vassal

Joined: Thu Aug 04, 2011 3:33 pm
Posts: 35
Chapter 5:
Dark Omens.


Galen knew first hand the difficulties behind the task of being a guardian of the magic realm. So far, he had applied his knowledge and training just the way he had learned, always making the correct decisions in order to maintain the balance of the Universe. But a moment comes in everyone's life where the available paths ahead, no matter how prepared one might be, all seem to lead to a dead end. And Galen feared he might be walking down one of these paths.
His recent assignment to the Border Outpost, and his devastating demonstration of magic power against the hordes of Orcs, did not seem to be as hard a challenge to master, as was preventing his mind from falling apart due to the overwhelming emotions he endured during the brief moment he shared in the barracks's hall with Kiska, as his past of feelings for the young lady surfaced again, and he was now trying to regain control of his mind and heart.
Confused, furious, sad, angry with himself, and in desperate need of answers, he rushed upstairs towards the upper level of the barracks, where proper guest quarters had been prepared for him, and the rest of the newcomers.
The inner halls of the barracks contained several small rooms reserved for high-ranking visitors, diplomats and similar personalities, who could remain in the city without the need of taking space in the castle. Most of these rooms were placed on the western side of the barracks main building, next to the outer plaza, whilst the eastern side was occupied by larger halls which served as meeting rooms, dining rooms or celebration halls.
Once Galen reached his chamber, and although he was at a considerable height above the now quiet outer plaza, he could still hear voices around him. But these voices were not originated from natural worldly sources. They were Galen's own thoughts, reaching out to him, from inside his mind
…………
-"… then I shall send word of your arrival to Aden, My Lord…"
…………
-"… I wish the Tower had never existed!…"
…………
-"… see you in the middle, my friend…"
…………
-"… because I love her!…"
…………
-"… you sure you're alright? You look a li'l pale…"
…………
-"… Galen!!… NO!!…"
…………
…………
…………
With a great effort, Galen could control his mind, and found himself leaning over his desk, his body weight over both his arms, pushing against the heavy wood frame, and his breath agitated, slowly coming back to his signature paused rhythm. He had barely regained control of his being, when he was startled by a gentle knocking at his chamber's door.
-"Lord Galen?" -said a female voice at the other side of the big door- "My Lord, is everything alright?"
With a deep breath he recovered his serious self, and walked towards the door, opening it. Mirien was standing in the hallway, with a concerned look upon her face.
-"Are you alright? I heard a noise…" -she said.
-"Yes, Captain…" -said Galen, promptly, but still visibly out of focus- "…I just… I am sorry… I was just…"
Mirien could not help but look over the wizard's shoulder, only to find several objects on the floor, some books and pieces of paper, scrambled around the wooden desk.
-"Rearranging?" -she inquired.
Galen finally minded the surrounding space. He had obviously made some unconscious movement around the chamber, knocking a few artifacts off their shelves. As he stepped aside from the door frame, he left way for Mirien to get inside, while he reached down for the fallen objects, trying to sort the mess out.
-"You seriously need to work on thy wind spell, My Lord." -said Mirien, regarding the disorder, with a sarcastic mock to his ‘superior’ status.
In fact, it did look as if a small hurricane had been unleashed inside the room.
-“I am sorry…” –said Galen- “You had not to come all the way up here…”
-“Well… If as an overseer you deem this matter out of my concern, then I shall leave. But, …”
Mirien then kneeled down beside Galen, and talked to him directly.
-“…I am not here as a subordinate… I come as a friend… One you can trust…”
Galen stood up, with books and artifacts in his hands, and walked towards the desk, his back to Mirien, without saying a word, but clearly making his point stand out: “Leave me alone”.
Mirien did not want to incommode the Noble Elf, but seeing that his mind was made not to talk, she decided to board the matter she thought was the cause of the wizard’s discomfort.
-“Galen, twenty years ago you might have fooled me, but not this time. You argued again, didn’t you?” –she said, regarding Galen’s relationship with Kiska.
Galen felt his heart tied up inside his chest. As hard as it was for him to keep Kiska out of his mind, it seemed as if the world itself kept trying to overcome his will. He could not help but hit the desk with his fist, in displeasure: “Don’t you remind me of her!”
-“We… ” –he tried to explain the recent events- “… I decided to keep her out of my life and heart…”
Mirien understood the wizard’s standing, but seeing how the struggle had been affecting the two young lovers, she wondered if the ultimate solution to that would not be to get rid of the struggle itself, and face each other’s feelings. So, trying to play Galen into his own logic, she cornered him.
-“Why?” –she asked, with decisive tone.
Galen turned to face her, with genuine hatred in his heart, both against Mirien for reminding him of Kiska, and against himself, for not being able to forget her despite all his power. With a brief burst of rage, he let his voice up, and some of his magical power escaped his control.
-“Because I love her!” –he shouted.
The energy put into that phrase was such, that the room’s door was struck by a burst of wind and closed shut, and several books fell off their shelves. Clearly, Galen’s power was impressive and he required a great deal of mental strength to control it.
Mirien stood still, in front of Galen, but she could not prevent her heart from reacting to such a power. Although surprised, she remained calm. Galen regained control of himself, but his tone was now much less energetic, deeper, and softer, like a whisper.
-“I love her…” –he said, embracing his feelings at last- “…I had loved her since I met her… and had I born as another person, I know I would love her as much as I do now!”
Galen let himself down, and sat beside the wooden table, with a mixture of feelings in his heart. Shame, hatred, anger, fear, sadness, they all meant the same for him, as his mind was not able to stay focused, all because of one single feeling: Love.
Mirien sat beside him. She did not say a word, but with her warm sight she invited the wizard to speak his feelings out.
-“I love that girl more than I love my own life…” –said Galen- “…I had used this power to protect my life and that of those around me. But if I was to give way to my feelings for her, then I know I would not be able to keep her away from me. Everywhere I went, she would be at my side, on in my mind, or in my heart. And if I was to run into a dangerous situation I know I would give my life to save her, but if I did…”
-“If you did…?” –asked Mirien, as she held Galen’s hand, in sign of friendship.
-“…If I did,…” –answered Galen- “…who would be left there to protect her?”
Mirien could not help but give the Elf a tender look. He cared for Kiska so much, that he would not stop worrying about her, not even after his death.
-“…Now you know why I must keep her far from me…” –said Galen.
As a woman who had once had a love of her own, Mirien could understand what the wizard was going through, so after a few seconds of thinking, she advised Galen with the voice of experience.
-“If you really are worried about her safety, do not keep her away from you…” –said Mirien, with the same cryptic tone Galen was known to use- “The farther you go from her, the weaker the feeling will be, and she will stop considering you in whatever actions she might take. If, instead, you let her have your heart and mind, she will have you in her life wherever she goes, and that will make her stronger than anyone.”
Galen did not answer. He remained thinking about the advice, as Mirien stood up and headed for the door.
-“Love speaks clearly when one listens carefully to it.” –she said, as she opened the door- “Love is a strength, My Lord… Do not be fooled into thinking otherwise.”
And closing the room’s door behind her, she walked outside.



The dusk had already past over the Kingdom of Giran. In Galen’s mind, and outside his chamber, everything was quiet again. There were lesser guards in the battlements, the people outside the fort was slowly abandoning their gatherings, and the white moon was rising up in the sky. Its soft blue-ish light was bright enough to illuminate the fields, there where the red glow of fire did not reach. The clear sky allowed its shine to cover the entire kingdom, from Giran and its wide pastures, to the hilly countryside of Gludin, to the dark and muddy Swampland of the Dark Elven realm. Far across this country, beyond the underground village and inside the walls of the Shilen temple, Thifiell was sitting in his study.
Since his office was far from any exterior windows, it was lit from the inside, with torches emitting a pale white light, of evidently some kind of magical origin. Around the desk and furniture there placed, there were pedestals holding statues representing Thifiell’s familiar lineage, all Noble Silleans*, all made of black granite, taken from the quarries at the foot of the Dragonspine range. Black granite was a rare mineral, only found in the Dark Elven realm, so it represented both a standard for their buildings, and also a mean of trade with the other realms. Once cut and polished, it reflected a great deal of light, so it was ideal to be used in poorly lit interiors.
During the course of that day, Thifiell had been busy writing a document to be presented the morning after, before the Dark Elven Council.
When he was about to finish his writing, he received the visit of one of his aides.
-“Lord Thifiell…” –said the aide, bowing, as he waited a response.
-“Yes, my loyal Tarsus… Please come in, I was about to call out for you.”
Tarsus had been Thifiell’s secretary for years. Efficient and polite, there was no faster messenger in the realm.
-“Please, deliver this roll to Count Tretios, and tell him to place his signature and seal on it as well” –said Thifiell, sealing the roll and placing his personal stamp on it.
-“At once.” –answered Tarsus, and then added- “Lady Akhara has arrived, My Liege. She is waiting for you in the outer hall.”
At the mention of her daughter’s name, Thifiell suddenly felt as if a hundred years had gone off his tired back, and was naturally rejoiced.
-“Akhara? Here? Already?” –he said- “Oh, then, what are you waiting for? Take me to her!”
Thifiell always had his Council of Elders next to him, supporting and advising him on matters related to his government. But in difficult times such as this one, a Head of State often requires something much less formal and structured than the advice of wise elders. Sometimes, a close relative can understand and advice with a different perspective. And that relative was his daughter, Akhara.
She had been away for the last ten years, as a Vestal on the School of Dark Arts, teaching the gifted younglings the precepts of Shilen and the guidelines of the sacred magic the Darklings employed. And responding to her father’s summoning, she had come to comfort the elder with her presence.
Tarsus held Thifiell’s arm, and helped the elder walk the way out of his study, across the central hallway, and into the outer hall.
The great hall was also made of black granite, with less magical torches around, since the upper windows let some of the outer light in, and the few torches lit where placed around the huge statue erected in honor of the goddess Shilen. An enormous statue of about twelve braces high, made of white marble, and decorated with iron chains.
Akhara was standing next to this giant statue, wearing the pale-blue robe given to the Vestals of Shilen, her face half-lit by the moonlight, and paying her respects to the Goddess, when Thifiell appeared on the eastern stairway.
-“Akhara! Darling!” –he called.
-“Father!”
Akhara ran to her father’s arms, embracing the old Tetrarch with all the strength natural of her young age, which made the elder tumble, but not fall, thanks to Tarsus’ help.
-“Oh, oh!” –said the elder- “Oh, you are as beautiful as ever! Welcome back, my dear!”
-“Oh, Father! I had so missed you! Did you receive my letters?”
-“Each and every one of them, my dear. And I have sent them to your children in the village, just as you requested.” –said Thifiell, and pointed to Tarsus- “Tarsus here, is to be thanked for that. His legs can move much faster than mine, heh heh…”
Akhara had grown fond of several poor children in the outer settlements of the village. Since she was of such a lovely nature, the people felt more inclined in talking to her than to the actual official in charge of the area: Count Tretios.
-“Oh, yes. Thank you, good Tarsus.” –said Akhara- “I do not know what we would do without you.”
-“I live to serve you, My Lady…” –answered Tarsus, with the proper curtsey- “…Now if you would excuse me, I have a message to deliver…”
-“Thank you Tarsus, you go ahead…” –said Thifiell- “…My daughter and I have much to talk about!”
-“It’s alright Tarsus, I will take care of him now…” –said Akhara.
Tarsus bowed politely, and turned towards the nearest stairway out. With a remarkable speed, without any effort or noticeable noise, he slid away.
-“Ah… If only I had some more like him… This realm would be much easier to rule!” –said Thifiell, with sorrow.
Akhara was aware of the crescent discomfort among the western settlements, because of the taxes imposed after the collapse of Giran’s commercial structure. Despite her stance in the School of Dark Arts, she remained in contact with her relatives in the capital, and her sponsored children of the outer villages.
-“Another revolt?” –she asked.
-“Oh, not that much this time… But almost…!”
In the past weeks, several riots had broken out in the labor fields, but thanks to the rapid response of the Civilian Order, the incident did not reach the Capital.
-“Poor people…” –continued Thifiell- “I can understand their posture… but these uncertain times makes them change their minds so quickly, that by the time their proposal is discussed and resolved by the Council, the solution no longer satisfies them!”
The two Silleans had been pacing along the central hallway, back to Thifiell’s chamber, and were now crossing the last third of the hallway’s extent, when Akhara noticed the lower part of the inner wall.
-“Oh… It is still there…” –she said, with a tone at the same time happy and surprised.
-“Heh heh… How could I get rid of it?…” –said the elder, chuckling- “…It meant so much to you, that cleaning it off would be like removing a part of you…”
The token in question was a small bonding symbol, made with golden ink, and with the names of Akhara and Kairon painted around it. It was drawn with the signature rough stroke of inexperienced hands, and had been there for at least seventeen years, since the time when both lovers were nothing but younglings.
-“Where is he now?” –asked Akhara, regarding her former lover- “Is he still in the Order?”
-“Oh, I’m afraid he is long beyond those times now…” –answered Thifiell- “He has pursued a much higher responsibility in law enforcement. Not a week ago, I personally named him Senior Attorney.”
Akhara let a soft laughter out.
-“Funny…” –she said- “He used to joke about becoming the most decorated Civilian…”
-“Oh, well… He might have traded the sword for the pen, but in essence, he is still a Civilian.”
In the Dark Elven society, their Sacred Places, the higher levels of the Capital and the members of the Council were under the protection of the military itself. Since the Darklings had a neutrality pact with the Humans and the Elves, their military force was garrisoned inside the capital, in order to keep their numbers secret from uninvited eyes.
The security of the outer settlements relied on the structure of the Civilian Order: pseudo-soldiers with a lesser paid contract, recruited from within the settlements they protected, which gave the Order a constant presence in all the extent of the realm. Everyone was entitled to request a job in the Order, but the higher ranks were only reserved to those of noble heritage, who were also required to have a minimum of fifteen years of service, a passing mark on the Trial of Duty, and the approval of the Council. Since the Order was a government organization, the service granted the citizenship inside the Capital, and their employees were referred to as Civilians, whilst the rest of the inhabitants were simply referred to as ‘residents’ if they had settled in the Capital, or ‘peasants’ if they had settled on the outskirts.
A few steps beyond the small bonding symbol that brought such amount of memories to Akhara’s mind, was Thifiell’s chamber. And once they had reached the entrance, the elder invited her beloved daughter to remain for the rest of the night.
-“Come, my dear…” –said Thifiell- “Stay for a while… I could welcome the company of a young lady such as yourself… heh heh…”
Akhara felt flattered by her father’s compliment, but she had traveled a great distance from the School of Dark Arts, and was naturally tired after the trip.
-“I would very much like to…” –she said- “But I want to rest for now… Tomorrow, I shall contact the peasants of the western settlements on your behalf. If there is a way of resolving this conflict, I am sure they will listen to reason.”
-“Oh, well…” –answered Thifiell- “I am sure you remember the way to your former chamber… If there is anything you should need, the servants will be happy to tend to your requests.”
-“Good night, Father. And thank you, for calling me back here… I was afraid I would forget the looks of this place…”
-“Oh, don’t mention it… This dark shell looks much brighter when you smile…” –said Thifiell, and the compliment made Akhara blush- “Good night to you too, my dear…”
And leaving her father for the night, Akhara paced down the wide hallway back to the chamber she used to have when she lived in the city, waving her hips with a soft feminine movement; and as she walked past that old bonding symbol of her childhood again… she could not help but smile.

[*Sillean: Lit. 'Son of Shilen'. The true adjective for those of the Dark Elven race.]

Far towards the south-west, mid-way between the Capital and the School of Dark Arts, the Civilian Order had established a small office in order to shelter Count Tretios and his escort, who were taking care of the momentary crisis among the peasants.
At that point of the night, one of the sentries sighted a figure approaching the outer fence.
-“Hold it!” –he shouted- “Who moves there!”
The figure stopped, and raising one of his hands, saluted the guard.
-“Don’t shoot, Sentinel.” –he said- “It’s me, Tarsus. I have a message for Count Tretios.”
-“Oh, I’m sorry, Master Tarsus. It’s just… You are so silent!… I did not hear you approaching…”
Tarsus had, indeed, that particular ability. Some guards joked about the fact that he might intentionally approach without noise, just to startle the sleepy sentinels awake.
Having his way clear to enter, Tarsus took the message to the Count.
The inner office was as simple as it could get: wooden frame, obtained from half-rotten trees gathered from the surroundings, with very few commodities, but still big enough to accommodate the Count in a private room, and three Civilians in the main room, plus the two ones outside.
When Tarsus entered the Count’s room, he was meeting with another Civilian, visibly some local Officer, as Tarsus could figure by the stripped shoulders the Civilian wore.
-“Oh, and here it is!” –said the Officer- “The infamous Shadow who puts my agents to shame, by slipping by unnoticed! What is it? Don’t you see we’re in the middle of a conversation here?”
The despective tone of the Officer made Tarsus uncomfortable, but since he did not need any introductions, and since his name was already known, he took confidence from his fame of ‘unnoticeable’, and held the response in his mind.
-“A message from Tetrarch Thifiell, Sire.” –he said, as he gave the roll to the Count- “He requests you to sign and stamp it.”
Tretios grabbed the message, and broke the seal. As he read it, Tarsus could tell by his face that the message was not something Tretios had been expecting. Tretios’s face changed from surprised to angry, long before he had finished the reading.
With an infuriated look towards Tarsus, and without saying a word, he sat, and signed the message with a quill pen made of a long raven feather. After he had finished, he sealed the message again, and stamped it. Once the message was sealed, he returned the roll to Tarsus, but before Tarsus could touch it, Tretios moved it out of the messenger’s reach, forcing Tarsus to look at him.
-“How has our old leader been?” –he asked, with a fake casual tone- “I heard that he expects her daughter to arrive soon…”
-“Oh, Lady Akhara? She has already arrived. Just earlier this night.” –answered Tarsus
-“Hmm… I hope the young lady makes our Head Tetrarch’s life a little happier and longer… We would hate to lose his guidance in these hard times.”
The Officer chuckled, catching the point of Tretios’s joke. Tarsus felt the timing right to respond to both provocations with elegance.
-“That would be most unfortunate…” –he said, as he grabbed the message at last- “But anyways, should the old leader outlive us all, I think I might have a solution for that.”
-“Really?” –asked Tretios, playing along the joke of Tarsus- “And what solution would that be?”
Tarsus was no fool. He knew Tretios and several other politicians hated Thifiell and his administration. But by pretending to be a fool, he was able to overhear important information that he would later pass on to Thifiell and his people. Or, by pretending to be joking, he could covertly insult someone without raising suspicions.
-“All you have to do, is keep the Civilians right where they are.” –he said, regarding the present Officer- “When they get distracted, you slip by into his chamber, and dispose of him. With the proper training, I believe that even you could accomplish that, Sire.”
Tretios face began to lose his smile, as did the Officer’s. Tarsus took advantage of the moment’s hesitation to remove the roll from Tretios’s hand, turn over himself, and with an elegant and fluid movement, opened the door and bowed goodbye, not without saying a final word.
-“If you wish, Sire, I would be happy to give you a few lessons…”
And continuing the movement he had began, he closed the door behind him, leaving Tretios and the Officer with a bitter taste.
-“Insolent v’rihn*…!” –muttered Tretios.
-“Damn his tongue…” –answered the Officer- “If I was holding my sword, I would cut it out of his mouth!”
-“Wouldn’t be wise… Or worth it, anyways…”
-“What did the message say?” –asked the Officer.
-“They have--… What was the term he used?… Oh, yes:…”
Tretios coughed, trying to imitate the deep tone and accent of Thifiell’s voice.
-“…‘carefully examined the petition, and found it non-viable for immediate implementation’…”
-“In other words:… ‘No’” –concluded the Officer.
Filled with rage, Tretios grabbed the nearest thing he could find, his inkpot, and threw it against the opposite wall of the room, leaving a black stain dripping down the wall.
-“Damn Thifiell and his circus of puppets!”
The Officer barely reacted. As far as he was concerned, whomever gave the orders was of no difference to him, as long as he and his men got the pay they were promised.
-“Hey, you are overreacting…!” –said the Officer, with a calm and natural tone- “What’s the problem? A lesser pay over an already non-existent pay? You just go out there, and tell the people the payment has been delayed, just as you keep telling them…”
-“Yes, but who is expected to deliver the message to them? ME!” –said Tretios with anger- “He sends his puny servant puppet to deliver his messages, but who is to speak before the riots? ME! HE takes the decisions, and I am the one there is to blame! ME, not him!”
Tretios was above himself. He had been dealing with the revolts for almost a month, and he was running out of options. If a solution did not come from the High Council soon, the first head to be slain would be his own. Pacing nervously around the room, he kept thinking in a loud voice.
-“If we don’t get that funding soon, the people will begin to ask questions, and I can’t simply tell them ‘Oh, well, you see, we requested a higher value to account for our personal expenditures, but the council rejected the whole petition! So instead of little, we get nothing! Oh, and the taxes have been raised again! How’d you like that?’” –said Tretios, with a marked sarcastic tone.
-“Well-p…” –said the Officer, rising from his chair- “Whatever solution you fashion out of that brain of yours is your business, but I expect it to be an effective one, for the sake of your safety…”
-“…And what the hell is that supposed to mean…!?”
So far, Tretios had taken for granted the support of the local Order. But it seemed that the commanding Officer had some plans of his own as well.
-“Well, as they say… The sentinels take long shifts, and they tend to get distracted… If you can’t guarantee their wages, I can’t guarantee your safety, Sire… The people here is being increasingly difficult to control…”
-“What!?”
Tretios could not believe his ears. The Civilian assigned to protect him, was quietly walking away.
-“…I better begin my patrol route now…” –said the Officer- “But, who knows… Riots are unpredictable… I might not hear them coming… I might not be back in time…”
And leaving Tretios alone in his room, the Officer walked away, taking the remaining Civilians in the outer room along with him.
-“Yes, you better…! Get the hell out of my sight! Ungrateful bastard… I gave you that uniform!… Coward rats… Rats! Rats all of them!… Worse than rats!… Rats can at least swim on their own!”

[*v'rihn: "peasant", "servant", with despective tone.]

Tretios kept shouting and cursing towards the wall leading to the next room, as if someone could actually respond, or even, listen.
Once his anger diminished, or rather, once he tired up, he tried to resolve the situation, either by solving the problem at hand, or by finding a means of escape.
-“Cursed Thifiell… Cursed the Council and cursed the Civilians…” –he muttered to himself- “They don’t see… They just obey… They don’t see the way Thifiell is ruling…!”
He kept talking to himself, pacing around the room, trying to get something clear out of his ideas.
-“Thifiell and the Council can’t rule… It’s just not right… Four people for one decision is not right… It’s just not right…!”
And with that phrase, he seemed to find the solution to his dilemma.
-“That’s it!… We don’t need four people for one decision…! One person should be more than enough… After all, the Humans are ruled by one person… The Orcs are ruled by one person…! When you come to think of it, it’s not that wild a thought…! Not wild at all!”
With this new ‘revelation’ he got, he began to work his way up from that thought: a way of turning Thifiell’s four-member way of ruling, into a single-person way of ruling. He was deep in his thoughts, when he overheard a distorted voice coming from around him.
-“Oh… What’s the matter…? Are you in pain…?” –asked the voice.
Tretios did not lose concentration, but he acknowledged the voice, and promptly answered.
-“Hmm… I was wondering when you would show up…”
From the rotten planks of wood fashioning the floor, a soft burst of light emerged, and a creature appeared, head first, and then the rest of its body. It was a demonic creature, a giant phantom kind of being, without any legs of sorts, which was floating at a certain height above the floor. It had a heavy constitution, strong arms, wide chest, and what appeared to be a heavy pair of manacles around its wrists.
-“What’s the matter with the four people?” –it asked, and its voice echoed in the room, even though the rotten wood did not had such a resonance- “Don’t you say that ‘more is better’?”
-“Oh, shut up!” –said Tretios- “What would you know about people?”
Tretios seemed to know the being. It was not clear whether he knew ‘who’ the being was, or ‘what’ it was, but he clearly had a mean of communication with it, and the being responded to him.
-“Did you find the woman?” –asked Tretios.
-“I did.” –answered the being- “She struggled. But I was stronger.”
-“And the messenger?”
-“Away. I followed him far from here. He did not look back.”
-“Very well… In these times, one is wise to be vigilant… I have another request to ask from you, though…”
-“Hmmm… You Darklings are curious creatures…” –stated the phantom, with an intriguing tone.
-“Oh? How so?” –asked Tretios, surprised by the statement.
-“The things you want, you ask from other beings.” –said the phantom- “We Shades, the things we want, we take from other beings.”
Tretios shook his head aside. It surprised him that an otherworldly being was capable of such reasoning.
-“Oh, nothing farther from the truth!” –he said- “Whenever something is in my reach, I gladly and willingly take it! But, you see, the thing in question is not here now, that’s why I ask you to go out and get it for me. It’s called ‘a favor’.”
-“Hmmmmmmmmm” –answered the so called ‘Shade’.
-“You will find him past the old barn, possibly sitting near the old well there. He wears a blue plate armor. Please try not to bruise him much, I would very much like him to be able to talk.”
-“Hmmmmmmmmm”
The phantom promptly headed in the direction Tretios pointed it, but the Darkling stopped it with one final order.
-“Oh, and… you can take whatever thing you want, from those around him.”
-“Understood.” –said the Shade.
As the demonic phantom phased through the nearest wall, a brief burst of light came out of it, surrounding the shape of the voluminous being, and once the being was away, Tretios returned to his thinking.
-“Now… Where was I…?” –he said- “Oh, yes. Thifiell and his council…”
Retaking his thinking, he sat back at his desk, and reached for a book of his collection, entitled ‘Legal Regulations of the Sillean State’, written by Thifiell himself, regarding all the social, political and economic directives his government was based upon. Half-way into the second chapter: ‘High Council: Structure, Regulations, Rights and Obligations’, he began to read with increased attention. If there was any loophole within those directives, he could use that against Thifiell.
Near the end of the chapter, he thought he had found his answer.
-“Hmm… Very interesting…” –he muttered, and quoted- “‘…the Council shall rule as a whole, for an indefinite period of time, as long as their members are able, willing and disposed to do so, or until one or several members decide to name a successor, or until an immediate lesser official of the Council presents a founded request of aptitude evaluation; such request would be required to count with the support of at least two other officials of similar rank, and would be subject to popular consent. In any case, the Council as a whole would be dissolved, and each member replaced or evaluated by a temporary assembly of immediate lesser officials, and the resulting Council will be subject to popular consent. In case that the resulting Council—- blah blah blah-…’
Tretios did not need to read much more. He had found a way to, at least, question Thifiell’s authority.
-“That’s it! Everything is here!” –he said- “Oh, you old snake! You have written down your own sentence!”
And with a victorious tone, he slammed the book against the wooden desk, and sat back on his chair, in a confident posture. He had finally achieved a relaxed state, when the Shade returned, preceded by a burst of light over the southern wall, and carrying the Civilian Officer tightly gripped in its hands.
-“Let me down! No! Wait! Stop! Let me down! Ahh! Let me down!” –cried the Officer, desperately- “W—What!? Tretios? What’s this? Do you control this thing? Let me down at once!”
-“What’s the matter, my friend?” –said Tretios, without rising from his chair- “Did you not want to get higher up the chain of command? Was not that your ambitious goal?”
-“Tretios, you damned bastard! What kind of trickery is this!? Let me out of here!”
The tight grip of the Shade’s hands was not giving way, despite all of the Officer’s struggle.
-“Oh, I think it was about time that you Civilians found yourselves really ‘packed’ of work, don’t you?”
At a sight sign of Tretios, the Shade closed the grip a little more, asphyxiating the Officer.
-“You dev---… Gaaakkkkkkk!… You devil worm!” –said the Officer, with an increasingly thinner tone of voice.
Tretios rose from his chair and approached the restrained Civilian. Once he was eye-to-eye with the Officer, he said to him:
-“Listen carefully: my friend here does not know the value of Adena, nor does it know the meaning of payment, or the meaning of leadership, or power… All it cares about is to exist in this world, because its own… Well, it’s not so pretty… And even so, it has offered itself to help me, just in exchange for its existence here.” –he said- “Now, I have already given you your title, you wage, your uniform… And what did I get in return, huh?… Tell me, what did I get?…”
The Officer was more worried about breathing than fashioning a response.
-“WHAT DID I GET!?” –shouted Tretios at him.
With another sight sign, he ordered the Shade to loosen the grip, and the Officer felt heavily to the floor, coughing, and gasping for air.
-“You’re r--*cough*--you’re right… *cough* You’re abs--*coughhhh*--absolutely right…” –tried to say the Civilian, as he struggled to his feet- “I--*aghh*--I have been so inconsiderate. I… I offer you all I have… I offer you myself, my own life… I request no further payment…*coughhhh*cough*…”
Tretios weighted the offer.
-“Hmmm… I must admit you are a shrewd bargainer…” –said Tretios- “I might as well take you back under my command…!”
-“Th--*cough*--thank you, Sire…” –answered the Officer.
-“On second thought…” –said Tretios, as he raised his hand, with his point finger up- “You offer me something I could easily lose, and once lost would be impossible to retrieve, and furthermore, impossible to account for the expenditure already made on it.”
-“W-What?”
-“If you come to think of it, your very life holds an even lesser value than your rusty armor!”
-“B-But… But you said…”
-“Hmm… I think I’ll settle for the safest option here…” –said Tretios, with an unconcerned tone. And with a wave of his hand, he ordered the Shade- “Remove his uniform…”
-“Hmmmmmmmmm” –answered the demon.
With its strong and brute hands, it grabbed the Civilian again, and without any concerns regarding flesh or metal, it tore the armor apart, ripping the Darkling Officer to pieces.
-“No! No! Wait! WAIT! STOP! STOOOOP!!!! AAAAAARGH!”



Tarsus did not stop when he arrived at the Capital. Instead, he went right through the underground city, and emerged from the other side, near the Temple of Shilen. After he had crossed the main hall and gotten inside the central hallway, he headed towards Thifiell’s chamber, to deliver the roll that Count Tretios had previously signed.
-“How did it go?” –asked Thifiell, as Tarsus gave him the message.
-“He signed it and stamped it, just as you requested, My Liege.” –answered Tarsus.
Thifiell smiled before the eloquent humbleness of the messenger. He would never answer anything more aside from what he was directly asked.
-“No, I mean… how did it go? Were you present when he read it?” –asked Thifiell directly.
-“Yes, Sire. He looked surprised. And enraged, I might add.”
-“Naturally…” –chuckled Thifiell- “…But tell me,… What impression does he strike on you?”
Tarsus was not sure about the actual point of the question. After all, he was no advisor, only a messenger.
-“He…” –said Tarsus, trying to build an accurate description- “…He seems to be a wise oracle… And a powerful wizard…”
Thifiell felt the description somewhat vague, and he could also tell that Tarsus was holding something back.
-“…But…?” –he asked the messenger.
-“But,… I believe he is plotting something. The local Officer of the Order was in his chamber when I arrived. They seemed to be discussing private matters. I believe he should better be watched, Sire.”
Thifiell acknowledged with his head, with a profoundly serious look on his face, as he softly patted the palm of his left hand with the rolled message on his right hand. Once he had given the matter a deeper thought, he sat again at his desk, and pulled over another piece of paper, on which he began to write a new text.
-“I have another request to ask from you, Tarsus.” –said Thifiell, as he wrote on the paper.
-“At your service, My Liege.” –said Tarsus.
-“Please take this message to Lord Kairon. You shall find him at his office in the Courthouse…”
Thifiell dried the ink on the paper with a blow, sealed the message, and gave it to the messenger.
-“…And Tarsus,…” –said Thifiell, as Tarsus headed away- “…Let him know about the recent events…”
-“…Of course, Sire…”
Fast as he always was, Tarsus went out of Thifiell’s room, out of the Temple of Shilen, and into the underground city of the Dark Elves.
The city itself was contained inside a hollow mountain, safe from the direct sunlight the Darklings loathed. It had been built that way in order to keep any outlanders away from any means of direct approach, except for the two entries made at the sides of the mountain. Since the interior was isolated from the exterior and any source of light, the inner side of the shell was enchanted by a powerful spell, making it look like the starry sky outside.
In order to reach access to the whole city, one was required to travel across one of two wide ramps leading from the outer shell to the center, and from there, to take one of the two spiral ramps leading up to the higher levels. From the base to the top, four levels were layered, containing the city’s military barracks the lower one, housings the second one, commercial posts the third one, and temples and government buildings the upper one. Since the mountain was narrower at the top, the upper levels contained buildings made directly by carving outwards into the outer shell.
Up these ramps went Tarsus, and once he had reached the Courthouse, in brief moments he was before Lord Kairon.
-“Oh, it’s you!” –said Kairon- “Come in, you are most welcomed!”
-“I bring a message from Tetrarch Thifiell, My Lord.”
-“Hmmm… It must be something important for the old Tetrarch to reach me this late at night!”
Kairon unsealed the message. As he read it, his face became progressively more worried, and once he had finished, he sat at his desk, and took a few seconds of thought.
-“…Hmmm…” –he said- “…I see the reason of the hurry…”
Tarsus remained silent. As it was his nature, he did not speak unless he was requested or ordered to.
-“Thank you, good Tarsus. That would be all…” –said Kairon.
But Tarsus had not delivered the rest of the messages, yet.
-“…Is there anything else?” –asked Kairon, seeing the messenger still in his office.
-“If you would excuse my daring…” –responded, at last, Tarsus- “I believe you would be pleased to know that Lady Akhara has returned, My Lord.”
And having completed his assignment, he walked away, after a polite bow.
-“…Akhara…” –muttered Kairon, as his face pictured a soft smile.
The name of the Sillean princess brought a profound joy to Kairon’s heart. For those few seconds, he forgot about the previous message, about the present crisis, and about everything else. And leaning back onto his chair, he could not help but look at a small bonding symbol painted on an old piece of wood, which he kept on his desk.
And as he looked at it… he could not help but smile…

(...To Be continued...)


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