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Fan Fictions of Arkain

Level 10
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Oct 23, 2016
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89
Oh god Imagine being that twin no you dont get the dead parent keep sake your cooler sister gets that. but boriss its just a joke on the spelling of her name being Salana.
 
Level 16
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What do you mean? Selana is a totally canon character you know.

She fell in love with Gardon's brother, Gordon.
The leader of the SteelFist.
Unlike Gardon, who lost Salana to the undead's grip, his brother, Gordon, was luckier and had a feeling for Selana, and after the fall of Renova, was granted permission to marry her by his beloved brother Gardon. During the era of Gardon's reign, the amount of half-elven numbers increased with Gordon now having triplets with Selana. :peasant-grin:
 

Shar Dundred

Community Moderator
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5,877
who lost Salana to the undead's grip
That's one way of putting it.
What do you mean? Selana is a totally canon character you know.

She fell in love with Gardon's brother, Gordon.
The leader of the SteelFist.
Unlike Gardon, who lost Salana to the undead's grip, his brother, Gordon, was luckier and had a feeling for Selana, and after the fall of Renova, was granted permission to marry her by his beloved brother Gardon. During the era of Gardon's reign, the amount of half-elven numbers increased with Gordon now having triplets with Selana. :peasant-grin:
HMMMMM
 
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759
Unlike Gardon, who lost Salana to the undead's grip, his brother, Gordon, was luckier and had a feeling for Selana, and after the fall of Renova, was granted permission to marry her by his beloved brother Gardon. During the era of Gardon's reign, the amount of half-elven numbers increased with Gordon now having triplets with Selana. :peasant-grin:

And after the war they retreated to a small farmstead where they spent their days together taking care of wounded and abandoned animals, including murlocs, gnolls and orcs.
 
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And after the war they retreated to a small farmstead where they spent their days together taking care of wounded and abandoned animals, including murlocs, gnolls and orcs.
By the time Amari knew, she paid a visit to family, and happened to find also Gardon arriving to see his brother, and offered to form a peace treaty between Zyaise kingdom and Tribal Dominion fully. Humans and orcs are now officially cooperative thanks to the actions of Gordon and Selana. Yet both Gardon and Amari had the same thing in mind: The plagued kingdom of Rengar. As a way to officiate the alliance, Gardon sends his regiment to investigate Rengar. Edoarus would have time slipping short and his plan being jeopardized.:peasant-rolling-eyes:
 
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By the time Amari knew, she paid a visit to family, and happened to find also Gardon arriving to see his brother, and offered to form a peace treaty between Zyaise kingdom and Tribal Dominion fully. Humans and orcs are now officially cooperative thanks to the actions of Gordon and Selana. Yet both Gardon and Amari had the same thing in mind: The plagued kingdom of Rengar. As a way to officiate the alliance, Gardon sends his regiment to investigate Rengar. Edoarus would have time slipping short and his plan being jeopardized.:peasant-rolling-eyes:

Fortunately Aridon the Watcher foresaw these events and sent Salana to temporarily kidnap and replace her twin sister Selana and have her throw a big party at the farm to buy time for Edoarus. However, things get a little complicated when Salana falls for Gordon's twin brother Gardon, who previously had her stabbed and is now married to Vail and has a secret affair with the current elven queen Larine.
 
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However, things get a little complicated when Salana falls for Gordon's twin brother Gardon, who previously had her stabbed and is now married to Vail and has a secret affair with the current elven queen Larine.

The bloodclaw really are Charming dudes.

By the time Amari knew, she paid a visit to family, and happened to find also Gardon arriving to see his brother, and offered to form a peace treaty between Zyaise kingdom and Tribal Dominion fully.

Selana and Gordon, the true heroes of Arkain.
 
Level 10
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The greatest heroes are often those that can not only burn bridges, but also extend the welcoming hand and rebuild them.
 
Level 16
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183
Fortunately Aridon the Watcher foresaw these events and sent Salana to temporarily kidnap and replace her twin sister Selana and have her throw a big party at the farm to buy time for Edoarus. However, things get a little complicated when Salana falls for Gordon's twin brother Gardon, who previously had her stabbed and is now married to Vail and has a secret affair with the current elven queen Larine.
The situation is revealed to be even more complex. It's revealed before Salana's wounding, she eloped with Gardon a week before at night and spent a tender moment with him that... marked the actual first child of Gardon and Salana. By the time she was recovering, Saphire knew the secret and prepared for her dear friend's birth. In the last month, Salana finally awoke but her conditions needed to be stable so Salana's elven friends and future allies were called to assist at labor. Saphire, along with Keera, Sister Pentiss, and Sorveyena were present as midwives. It's also revealed that Woodhunters are descendants of two dark elves who were fugitives of Aldera and Lenira families before sealing Dead Mountain. The ancestors became prominent members of elven society with Selana and Salana becoming the most recent descendants. As such, both Pentiss and Sorveyena had a right to support their distant relative with tenderness and care. At the christening of the child, Sorveyena insisted that the child be taught assassin's way of dark elves while Pentiss intended her to be a priestess of Divine One. Keera and Saphira, although disliking Gardon, chose to protect the child and make her a future herald of elven return. Meanwhile, Salana, slightly amnesiac, longs for none other than Gardon Bloodclaw. :peasant-i-object:
 
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The situation is revealed to be even more complex. It's revealed before Salana's wounding, she eloped with Gardon a week before at night and spent a tender moment with him that... marked the actual first child of Gardon and Salana. By the time she was recovering, Saphire knew the secret and prepared for her dear friend's birth. In the last month, Salana finally awoke but her conditions needed to be stable so Salana's elven friends and future allies were called to assist at labor. Saphire, along with Keera, Sister Pentiss, and Sorveyena were present as midwives. It's also revealed that Woodhunters are descendants of two dark elves who were fugitives of Aldera and Lenira families before sealing Dead Mountain. The ancestors became prominent members of elven society with Selana and Salana becoming the most recent descendants. As such, both Pentiss and Sorveyena had a right to support their distant relative with tenderness and care. At the christening of the child, Sorveyena insisted that the child be taught assassin's way of dark elves while Pentiss intended her to be a priestess of Divine One. Keera and Saphira, although disliking Gardon, chose to protect the child and make her a future herald of elven return. Meanwhile, Salana, slightly amnesiac, longs for none other than Gardon Bloodclaw. :peasant-i-object:

That goes a bit too far for my taste to be honest.
I was thinking more along the lines of:

Salana, realizing what is happening, decided that she needs to run away before things get even worse and escapes the farmstead just as the festivities reach their peak. Unbeknownst to her, Gordon, the husband of Selana, is looking for his wife and is confused when he sees a slim elven figure running for the woods surrounding the farmstead. Believing that it was his beloved Selana, he rushes in pursuit, only to run into an undead ambush. Just as the ghouls are about to snap his neck, Salana orders them to stop. Gordon, now more confused than before, can't believe what he just witnessed. His beloved wife commanding a pack of undead and luring him into an ambush. Salana realizes that this will be a long night of explanations and considerations. She knows that her patron, Aridon, would never allow his existence to be revealed to the mortals at large. Yet she wants her twin sister to be happy and understands that if Selana and Gordon were to just mysteriously disappear, the rulers of Zyainor and the Tribal dominion wouldn't stop until they found them. Risking the reveal of Aridon the Watcher's existence either way, Salana decides to take Gordon with her, both to ensure that Selana and Gordon are reunited as well as hoping for Aridon's counsel.
 
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Salana, realizing what is happening, decided that she needs to run away before things get even worse and escapes the farmstead just as the festivities reach their peak. Unbeknownst to her, Gordon, the husband of Selana, is looking for his wife and is confused when he sees a slim elven figure running for the woods surrounding the farmstead. Believing that it was his beloved Selana, he rushes in pursuit, only to run into an undead ambush. Just as the ghouls are about to snap his neck, Salana orders them to stop. Gordon, now more confused than before, can't believe what he just witnessed. His beloved wife commanding a pack of undead and luring him into an ambush. Salana realizes that this will be a long night of explanations and considerations. She knows that her patron, Aridon, would never allow his existence to be revealed to the mortals at large. Yet she wants her twin sister to be happy and understands that if Selana and Gordon were to just mysteriously disappear, the rulers of Zyainor and the Tribal dominion wouldn't stop until they found them. Risking the reveal of Aridon the Watcher's existence either way, Salana decides to take Gordon with her, both to ensure that Selana and Gordon are reunited as well as hoping for Aridon's counsel.

Meanwhile at the party:
For Gardon and Amari, this was the first real opportunity to meet and get to know each other. After the initial shock of realizing they shared a mentor passed, they discovered that they have more in common that either of them would ever think. Both shunned and abandoned by the ones they once called family at some point in their lives, neither ascended to their current positions out of lust for war or power. Although Amari didn't believe in forcing loyalty through dark magics, she eventually grew to admire Gardon's determination, the sheer strength of will that he possessed, as well as his surprisingly strong bond with his wolf companion, Zed. Gardon, on the other hand, was taken aback by how well learned and sophisticated Amari was, surpassing even some of his advisors in wisdom and knowledge of the world. As they enjoyed their quiet and calm conversations, elsewhere on the farmstead, the party was just beginning to heat up. Something that, in hindsight, was probably unavoidable, as it is with every event where Vail and Larine are within a hundred kilometers of each other. And the amount of alcohol certainly didn't help in keeping things quiet, both by encouraging some straight-forwardness in our two damsels as well as by providing an ample supply of loud fans and spectators. All in all, things were heading towards a loud confrontation, when out of a sudden, a chill wind froze everyone in place and sent shivers down their spines. Something was about to happen. Something unforeseen and definitely unwelcome...
 
Level 20
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Nov 17, 2019
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209
Did you ever hear the tragedy of Selana the Twin? I thought not. It's not a story Shar would tell you. It's a Hive legend. Selana was the sister of Salana Woodhunter, so unexpected and so hilarious she could use her unexpected fame to influence the fandom to make her a part of Arkain… Fanfiction is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. She became so powerful… the only thing she was afraid of was getting branded insignificant by being moved out of the New Content Discussion, which eventually, of course, happened. How unfortunate, the Round Table never appreciated her enough, so she left Arkain with Gordon, and they also took Reneva, the forgotten sister of the elven queen with them.
 

Shar Dundred

Community Moderator
Level 72
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Messages
5,877
Did you ever hear the tragedy of Selana the Twin? I thought not. It's not a story Shar would tell you. It's a Hive legend. Selana was the sister of Salana Woodhunter, so unexpected and so hilarious she could use her unexpected fame to influence the fandom to make her a part of Arkain… Fanfiction is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. She became so powerful… the only thing she was afraid of was getting branded insignificant by being moved out of the New Content Discussion, which eventually, of course, happened. How unfortunate, the Round Table never appreciated her enough, so she left Arkain with Gordon, and they also took Reneva, the forgotten sister of the elven queen with them.
10/10
 

Kasrkin

Hosted Project: LoA
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804
Did you ever hear the tragedy of Selana the Twin? I thought not. It's not a story Shar would tell you. It's a Hive legend. Selana was the sister of Salana Woodhunter, so unexpected and so hilarious she could use her unexpected fame to influence the fandom to make her a part of Arkain… Fanfiction is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. She became so powerful… the only thing she was afraid of was getting branded insignificant by being moved out of the New Content Discussion, which eventually, of course, happened. How unfortunate, the Round Table never appreciated her enough, so she left Arkain with Gordon, and they also took Reneva, the forgotten sister of the elven queen with them.

You have wrote gallantly, worthy of recognition in the archives of the Order of the Flame. But now it is finished, post more and Gordon will be spared.
 
Level 10
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89
This Thread makes me feel like i got thrown on a Train that went straight to hell and than back and all i have to remember this even tis the mental scars it left on me. At least we have Gordon and his Direcats to cheer me up.
 
Level 10
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759
Meanwhile at the party:
For Gardon and Amari, this was the first real opportunity to meet and get to know each other. After the initial shock of realizing they shared a mentor passed, they discovered that they have more in common that either of them would ever think. Both shunned and abandoned by the ones they once called family at some point in their lives, neither ascended to their current positions out of lust for war or power. Although Amari didn't believe in forcing loyalty through dark magics, she eventually grew to admire Gardon's determination, the sheer strength of will that he possessed, as well as his surprisingly strong bond with his wolf companion, Zed. Gardon, on the other hand, was taken aback by how well learned and sophisticated Amari was, surpassing even some of his advisors in wisdom and knowledge of the world. As they enjoyed their quiet and calm conversations, elsewhere on the farmstead, the party was just beginning to heat up. Something that, in hindsight, was probably unavoidable, as it is with every event where Vail and Larine are within a hundred kilometers of each other. And the amount of alcohol certainly didn't help in keeping things quiet, both by encouraging some straight-forwardness in our two damsels as well as by providing an ample supply of loud fans and spectators. All in all, things were heading towards a loud confrontation, when out of a sudden, a chill wind froze everyone in place and sent shivers down their spines. Something was about to happen. Something unforeseen and definitely unwelcome...

How long has it been? Gordon couldn't tell. Nor could he tell the time of day, the season of the year... He felt like the whole world is foreign to him now. He felt that if he tried to escape, he wouldn't make it more than five steps before getting lost. Whatever Salana's bodyguards used to keep him pacified worked almost too well. Every time Gordon tried to concentrate his mind would again and again slip, filling his head with images of his beloved Selana. Where is she? Is she alright? Will I ever see her again, will I feel her warm touch on my chest, her kiss on my cheek? Or will we forever more be just cold corpses, marching at the whim of our undead master? But Selana's sister Salana, his captor, wasn't undead. From what he could tell by the brief glimpses he got while struggling to maintain even basic level of focus, she was very much alive. Stops for meal, to resupply water, even bathroom pause... all of it as if he was again part of a company of men, marching towards adventure. Like the first time he marched to war alongside the reclusive elves, the lonely ranger that was too shy to follow in the company's tracks, instead preferring to mingle among the trees, only appearing when she discovered that demon ambush. They managed to surround the demons instead, slaughtering them without so much as a single live lost. "What is your name, ranger?" he asked, when the battle was over. "Selana, sir. Selana Woodhunter". Selana... Selana... echoed inside his skull, as he once again slipped into a stupor.
 
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Level 10
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Oct 23, 2016
Messages
89
oh if were doing fanfic i call the one about where they are all teenagers at a highschool. Ardion would be the undercover cop. Gardon would be the leader of the soccer team with Thanok as his evil second in command. Vail would be the sports captain of the tennis, volleyball and wrestingly teams. Adeale would be the nerdy girl being tempted by weed. Larine would be the artsy girl who moved here from another school. Amanai would be the leader of the local golden hearted punks and she's also secretly gardon's half sister.

Ps Oh and the team is the direwolves.
 
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Oh Genuine question that may be a bit out of left field for some of you are there any LGBT charcters in the story? and dont tell me sasogran no one wants that asshole.
 
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Oh Genuine question that may be a bit out of left field for some of you are there any LGBT charcters in the story? and dont tell me sasogran no one wants that asshole.
Well, that's actually an interesting question. So far, here are my interpretations:
Rahandir might be gay. In life, he was so loyal to king of Rengar, so so loyal that he possibly refused to see king's possible betrayal. Maybe he was secretly besotted with a king and could've been also subtly jealous of his wife and extramarital lover Keera. It's something I gleamed from short story. And he was known to have no relationship. Killing king of Rengar was cold-blooded but understandable cuz our boi Rahandir was so heartbroken that he lost his ability to love in undeath. Though he caught king spending time with Keera, he also might have subconsciously wanted to dispose of the former elven queen. It might be far-fetching but still not impossible xD.
I duno why but i get ace (aromantic) vibe from Edoarus. He is just interested in justice and execution.
Aridon might love to present himself as 'male', but since he is Avatar of Death, he has almost equally mixed quantity of male and female essences. But he is slightly more feminine, albeit daring and scheming type of feminine with nothing demure and submissive about him. Don't forget he created Dark Elves: the ultra-feminist race, and its descendant forest Elves who also have matriarchy but lessened. And he is even accepted as both Goddess and Divine One in dark elven worship. So, it's not far-fetched to call him genderless/ both gendered.
Well, Sasrogarn... possible but so is Grofzag xD.
I think if Saphira was still alive and spend time with Gardon, she would probably end up the same as Larine and Salana even though she dislikes him. Elven women really have a thing for human men (Archetypically speaking it's like Cancer x Leo romance). But she is undead and possibly ace now.
Amari and Okri are possibly bi. dunoo hha. And i think Lisara is mostly heteroromantic (she was full in love with Ornasion before) but she was just too intimate with Aedale that i even wondered if all succubi are willing to charm both genders. Aedale is partially charmed but she be simping for Blen; one of the true otps. :ogre_hurrhurr:
And all other known characters are known to not fit into this spectrum but who knows... quite a fun speculate xD.
 
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Oh Genuine question that may be a bit out of left field for some of you are there any LGBT charcters in the story?
Well, I could tell you a tale about Le'rine, Larine's french cousin. She was bisexual. Le'rine was in a love triangle with Selana and Gordon, but knowledge of that story is sacred, only entrusted to the wisest scholars of the Order of the Flame, so I'm afraid I cannot say more...
 

Shar Dundred

Community Moderator
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I hate to break any illusions that some of you may hold but:
The simple truth is that I don't exactly design characters "around" their sexuality. Or really
put that much throught into their sexuality at all unless it is something I consider important
for the plot - I guess this is something that makes it different from Game of Thrones if you
people still want to compare the two after all these years. :p
I am obviously not ignoring the topic when it comes to writing but I am also not putting too
much focus into it. I don't think that Arkain "needs" it and I am sure many of you will agree.

There are of course some characters whose sexuality is "defined", some you know, some you
think you know, some you don't.
I like to keep people guessing. :)
If you want to believe that Saphira, despite absolutely, totally loathing Gardon would be with him
if she was still alive - go ahead, but don't be disappointed if at some point I say that's completely
wrong and Saphira is actually aromantic. I am not saying that she is/was (I mean she kinda is NOW,
dead and all that - and no, no necrophilia in my project, no matter how many of you want to see
Krom find his true love - he already has found his true love, btw, it is his hunt), I am just saying
that you should not be too disappointed if your head canon turned out to be incorrect. :)

Well, I could tell you a tale about Le'rine, Larine's french cousin. She was bisexual. Le'rine was in a love triangle with Selana and Gordon, but knowledge of that story is sacred, only entrusted to the wisest scholars of the Order of the Flame, so I'm afraid I cannot say more...
Jesus Christ. XD
 
Level 10
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Oct 23, 2016
Messages
89
I hate to break any illusions that some of you may hold but:
The simple truth is that I don't exactly design characters "around" their sexuality. Or really
put that much throught into their sexuality at all unless it is something I consider important
for the plot - I guess this is something that makes it different from Game of Thrones if you
people still want to compare the two after all these years. :p
I am obviously not ignoring the topic when it comes to writing but I am also not putting too
much focus into it. I don't think that Arkain "needs" it and I am sure many of you will agree.

There are of course some characters whose sexuality is "defined", some you know, some you
think you know, some you don't.
I like to keep people guessing. :)
If you want to believe that Saphira, despite absolutely, totally loathing Gardon would be with him
if she was still alive - go ahead, but don't be disappointed if at some point I say that's completely
wrong and Saphira is actually aromantic. I am not saying that she is/was (I mean she kinda is NOW,
dead and all that - and no, no necrophilia in my project, no matter how many of you want to see
Krom find his true love - he already has found his true love, btw, it is his hunt), I am just saying
that you should not be too disappointed if your head canon turned out to be incorrect. :)


Jesus Christ. XD

Good to know the question was inherently could there be LGBT characters in the story so im perfectly happy to hear that the answer is potentially.
Also the temptation to make that slice of life high school au fanfiction of Arkain is high now.

oh god forgive me for what im about to post. here it is Chapter 1 of the Education of Arakin

Amani looked in the mirror busily arranging her hair to the classic no effort style before reaching for her oh so fashionable mask. She mulled what would today hold probably sitting with and comforting Grella in Chemistry they had become fast friends after Amani and her Bff Orki beat up Grealla's ex boyfriend. “what an absolute tool” she thought “only a fool would let himself get addicted to shadow sticks”. Amani did cheer up a bit “right” she thought “Orki finally joined the Demonic-Equestrian club on her recommendation and she joined as my vice captain in the rugby team”. Amani stretched and lazily made her way out of the bathroom through her quiet apartment. Caught in a rare moment of reflection right she ran away from home what 3 years ago now? Her dad never accepted that she was a tomboy and wanted to play sports and compete\, she had no interest in being some stay at home wife who wasn't allowed to do anything but just pop out kids.

Thankfully she was taken in by Shades4Teens and had even been tutored by Councillor LB or Brian as no one dared to call him but her and one other. You see to qualify for Shades4Teens you had to be the best, the smartest and have run away from home, only herself and some punk human kid named Gordon or Gardon something like that were qualified. She sees him at the tutor lessons but they don't really talk much, Amani Stifles a laugh. It would be a competition between them if both didn't think they were leagues ahead of the other. She does admit Vail his Girlfriend who was captain of the Volleyball, Lacrosse and Survival teams was impressive though apparently rumors were that he cheated on her with the Medicine team captain Larine. Not that Amani cares she has bigger Fish to fry she pauses by her usual spot as she sees in the distance Vanessa Squealing around the corner in her bright yellow old as shit Cadillac, “hey sis need a ride” Vanessa called over nearly running her car onto the sidewalk. Amani nods and jumps in the passenger seat “hit it Ness”.
 
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Level 20
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Messages
209
Hey Shar! Now that people are writing fanfiction left and right, I decided to join the fun, and write a serious fanfiction. What do you think?


The Making of a Pawn


- Rise, soldier! – Called an echoing voice, from afar. – You still have many battles ahead of you.

- Who are you? – Asked the confused man, as he opened his eyes. He awoke, but from what? When did he fall asleep?

- Who “I” am is not the question. – A man stood before him, clearly a human, but he couldn’t make out his features. It was too dark to see anything.

- I’m Telarion Windseeker, ranger general of the second elven expedition force. I… I was sent here by the queen herself, to recover an artifact… a sceptre.

- Tell me, do you recall what happened? – Asked the strange person.

- I was sent here to retrieve the Sceptre of Healing… it was taken, by the orcs. I led my troops against that pack of brutes, that calls itself the “Deathbreeze Clan”.

- Interesting… what makes you speak with such hate, about the green skins who were here? – The stranger looked at him, expecting an answer. Feeling uneasy, Telarion looked away. Only then, did he notice, that the sun was at it’s peak, high in the sky. Yet, that man was dark, as if… a shadow surrounded him.

- They are proud to slay innocent women, but are afraid to face real men!

- Innocent women, you say? A curious choice of words… Did the Deathbreeze Clan wound you, in other ways than the flesh?

- T-that’s none of your business! – The elf tried to stand up, but his legs were too weak. He fell down.

- Do not mistake my intentions. I was merely curious why a talented general such as you led his soldiers into their certain deaths, even when the orcs obviously outnumbered you one to five.

- Yes… they have killed someone I cared about. A girl, named Saphira. I… loved her.

- Ah, yes… love. It is a curse unlike any… especially when the significant other doesn’t have such feelings. – Mused the dark figure, while Telarion attempted to stand up for the second time.

- Well, know I’ll never know. I never asked, if she felt the same way… - Even thinking about her, was too painful. Telarion had no idea, why he wasn’t a rotting corpse like the rest of his group. - I should be dead! I felt an orcs blade cut my stomach apart, yet know I stand before you, as if nothing happened. What have you done to me? – He asked, as he stood up.

- I have saved your life. Tell me, what would you if you were to leave this place? – Telarion examined the battlefield, only to find death and destruction. The orcs left no survivors. He shouldn’t be alive.

- Am I alive? – Telarion askes, but he dreaded the answer the strange human like creature would give him.

- What else would you be? I used my power to heal your wounds.

- So, you have saved me.

- That is correct.

- But, why? What are you? Are you some kind of shadow?

- In a manner of speaking… but that is not important. Let us return to my original question, if you were to leave this bloodstained battlefield, what would you do?

- I… - there was no need to think about it. – I would take revenge.

- Upon the orcs? – Asked the shadowy knight, his voice without the faintest sign of emotion.

- No. Not the orcs. Don’t get me wrong, I hate them, but they are… nothing but animals. It is their nature, to behave in such a way. I would kill the wretched queen, who sent her to her death. And for what?! A simple artifact!

- I assure you, that is no simple artifact, but your point still stands. She is the reason why that girl is dead.

- And she sent me and my forces after them, even though she knew what happened to the other group! She doesn’t care about me! She doesn’t care about Saphira! She cares only about herself!

- Your anger is justified, but you must realize, that you cannot accomplish anything on your own. In war, one must think about those that can help them achieve their goals, rather than the goal itself.

- And I suppose that’s you. But, why does a being like you, bother with a simple soldier like me? I can’t imagine what I could give you, that you yourself couldn’t get.

- No game of chess can be won without pawns, and I fear this will be a very long game. The only thing I can promise you, is that when this is over, you will get your wish fulfilled.

- Fine, I’ll be your pawn. If you want the queen dead-

- No. – The shadow interrupted him. – What I want you to do, is to do nothing. Go back to your queen, play the loyal subject, observe the actions of her, and her inner circle. You will regularly report to me, but only when, and where I see fit.

- So, you want me to spy on her?

- Yes, but I promise you, you won’t regret following my orders. Blind obedience is not foreign to you, you have mastered it before… Now go my pawn, there is still much to be done. – With that the shadow started to fade.

- Wait! I don’t even know your name!

- Call me... Brian. – With that, the dark figure disappeared, and the lonely archer was left alone, in the war-torn forest.
 
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Level 16
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183
Well, here is my version of fanfiction. What do you think, Shar?

The Mirrored Fate and Heart
Failed. Pathetic; her hubris let the most promising tool for Dark One's will slip away. Who knew she was strong enough to actually expel her being from her body after being tainted with former Master Assassin of Demon Legions for so long. The upstart girl actually studied the forbidden magic of exorcism in her short but valuable time in one of Bloodclaw's libraries. Even after consuming the Shard and Eye, she actually managed to expel the demoness.
Lisara, once a co-leader of Blooddrinker Legion; the ironic army of brutes who effectively clashed with her rather espionage-oriented mindset, was tricked by a master seductress, Ebira, of Souleater Legion. It took a long time when her underlings, trusted associates, and most loyal soldiers all began to label her as a traitor. Lisara made a grave mistake for opposing her and she paid dearly for that. Yet she knew... she knew her love will protect her; the brute Ornasion who charmed her heart by unshown cunning. Ornasion, intolerant towards all who assailed her lover, ripped apart many who openly tried to devalue her. One day, in one of the secret meetings held by Kersidar, he found himself slowly doubting Lisara. Yes, the leaders of Souleater managed to give solid evidence. Yet deep inside he still cherished her.
Months later, the decision was made. Lisara to be imprisoned on the exiled island with no harm done to her. The last pieces her feline orbs beheld in her homeland were accursed faces of Souleater demons, especially black-hearted Ebira, reluctant demons of her legion who didn't try to save her, and fierce, blackened, but still somewhat tender gaze of Ornasion.
"They tricked you, my love. Why are you doing nothing? What made your love doubt mine?"
He stood silent and uttered a moment after.
"Take her..." it was the last words she heard from one sincerely loved before her agonizing incarceration in rotten dungeons of centuries...
Duke Volarion Redfist was fallen. Aedale escaped to nowhere after forcibly making Lisara reveal the important info. Now Lisara was all alone and wandering. In barren lands of Redfist, the duststorm was her sole companion. She found her troops, luckily, after Krogar and the remaining regiment of Mogthar found her along with renegade demons who joined a cause of Largoth. Assembled, she headed towards the west to discuss the next parts of the plan and stop the girl who gotten only stronger. The visions of the past haunted and appeared in her horizon like fractured echoes of mirage. Her hate was boiling. She desired to invade her homeland and bring justice to those who wronged her. She remained patient for so long.
At the eve of duskfall, the stench of death and rot hung heavily in the lands. Hulking, demonic, elegaic yet... dead figures. Something familiar. It can't be... undead demons? Here? At the vanguard, the deadened form of statuesque dreadlord now appeared clear in plain sight. It was Ornasion.
"She gasped, despaired, if not openly, and... pitied." "Ornasion? He is slain? And now a pawn of Avatar of Death? Truly a folly." was her comment after encountering him in mountains near Purificator located. The battle of undead, Ironfist and their allies, Golden Guard, and Tribal Dominion was a hotspot. He had decided to claim her after he and his Kezzar nexus defeated Mogthar armies near the mountain. She escaped at once.
"Lisara..." his husky but hoarse voice said. She only observed. She recognized undead demons he brought with him; some who were her dire enemies, some who were her servants, and some who were nothing more than puppets for Ornasion. On his left, a very familiar dreadlord who was both his and her trusted right-hand, stood cold; Morganur. The elegant dreadlord he was known to be was now a cadaverous husk.
"Ornasion. Begone, your presence is unrequired and I declined your offer."
"This is your last chance, Lisara. Join us and let's lead Kezzar nexus as we did in life. If you reject it, then I will make you accept by force."
"Then you force my more subtle powers." just as she was about to teleport, Morganur threw a ball of black fire. Too late.
"There is no escape for you this time." Ornasion threatened.
"Protect me and slay these horrors." as Lisara commanded, her forces charged. Krogar, the brute general, was within a reach to cleave Ornasion, suddenly exploded in blood. Morganur's blood spell. The battle commenced and Lisara found her army torn to pieces. Only she and her maidens remained. Lisara attempted to charm Kezzar demons; to no avail.
"Pull back your forces, Morganur. She is my prize to win." As Ornasion stepped forward, the circle of fire engulfed the small lands between him and her. Lisara's maidens conjured all damaging spells which didn't scratch Ornasion at all. They were soon slain. Lisara conjured her mirror images and superior power of deception to trick Ornasion. Yet brute force did its job well. The duel happened for hours until Lisara was drained of strength. She eyed the hulking dreadlord slowly drawing his claws upon her. With one snap, her life was stolen away into oblivion. Yet the cold grip of life returned to her battered body. She now felt the embrace of eternal life; the intimacy with Avatar of Death's gift. By the time she rose, she uttered to a icy dreadlord:
"Now we can be together. Forever."
"Come. Aridon has ordered us to invade Gate of Hell. Let's claim our revenge on those Souleater dogs... my love."
Moments after, Ornasion ordered Morganur:
"Raise the traitors. They shall better serve as demonic nightmares of Kezzar nexus rather than defamed betrayers. Collect the corpses of red-skinned mongrels for Ejara nexus. I'm sure Harantel'kazor will find a good companionship in those barbarians. Or... perhaps Ardoz can assimilate their red skin?" The orders were clear, and newly risen Lisara, now cold and frigid-figured, reveled at the eve of contemplation;
She was defeated by the same dreadlord as in life and in death. She was betrayed only in life. In death, she now leads Demons as she did in life. Her heart remained the same as in life and in death. The Mirrored Fate and Heart was truly a fitting epithet for her story.
 
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Level 10
Joined
Oct 23, 2016
Messages
89
The Shadow Dance
Marius watched the dancers he was in a state of absolute rapture the dancer's clad in flowing obsidian silken robes, they twisted and spiraled and twirled over the rough hewn freshly carved stage. "There must be some kind of magic at work" he thought in disbelief he could never have had imagined humans being so graceful or elegant as these dancers, their stark white porcelain masks gleaming like Ivory in the scarce torch light that illuminated the scene the only warmth as well outside on this cool autumn night. Marius sipped from his large tankard of smooth smoky ale a rare delight in Kerrel these days like all other imports from Zyanior, Marius cringed at the thought rembering the extreme danger he put himself in by coming here. "damn inquisition" he fumed silently to himself "there was nothing wrong with enjoying some quality entertainment and beverages from them especially since the inquisition has a strong hatred for any halls of 'entertainment' a hatred that manifested as heads on pikes if you're lucky the only real place for any joy these days was to sneak out to a small town near the border and wait till night arrives and with it the dancers". A Scream cut through his hazy trance of joy like a hot knife in his flesh "the Inqu" the yell was cut off by an arrow to the throat, Marius dropped to the ground crawling away towards the brush he dived underneath and watched the scene unfold in front of him.

Inquisition members marching through the seats cutting down the attendees where they sat or fled in desperation he looked to the stage but there was not sign of the dancer's when he saw the inquisitor pull out a pair plyers he closed his eyes and held his ears desperate to block out the screams. it was not till morning that he dared stagger out of the brush and observe the burned to the ground town his heart nearly burst of his chest when he heard a voice from behind him "are you okay good sir?" he turned the figure feminine wearing a dirt stained dress of obsidian cheap and gaudy in the morning light face pale eye brown and plain a face strangely unremarkable. "you're one of the dancer's you survived" he managed to stagger out in a desperate scratchy imitation of what his voice should sound like. she gave him a look he could not read "yes I was and you are good sir?". he felt strangely compelled to not lie to this figure, he chalked it up to the sleepless night he had in a state of absolute fear, "I am Marius Montfort tax collector and finical advisor to several nobles of Kerral." he put forth with all the false pride he could muster. Her face twisted in a bright almost show how predatory smile "oh my what a man" she said voice low and sweet. she turned to press towards him "hold me my lord im scared still" he obliged of course what a poor delicate thing like her went through was simple horrible. She leaned back "a token so that you never forget our meeting my lord a good luck charm it kept me safe but youll need it more than me i fear". she pressed into his hand a small metal ring twisted around a beautiful small onyx stone. he felt strangely soothed as held it as he turned to ask her about it she was already gone he decided to flee as well confused by this meeting and night but with the warm comforting weight of the ring in his pocket he felt strangely confident for the first time in his life.
 
Level 8
Joined
Jul 28, 2019
Messages
64
The Fate of Light

I can't believe that everything we did, everything we sacrificed and everything we swore to defend, has fallen this way. Was it because we allied ourselves with the wrong side, I don't think so, both sides were wrong, on the one hand we have foreigners who were trying to assimilate us and impose their way of one side we have foreigners who were trying to assimilate us and impose their way of governing and thinking, disrespecting all authority and taking all power in our kingdoms, forcing our people to die for a nation foreign to Arkainia. a nation alien to Arkain and a completely non-existent emperor. but on the other side we have a ruthless general general capable of doing anything to win, we were very tolerant with that way of being since it at least helped to push back the demons.
We also turned out to be too tolerant with his dark magics... Father... I never expected to see you as cannon fodder... and much less in that horrible way, that's why even though it pains me to admit it admit it, I have to admit that necromancy and shadow magic bought us valuable time, that's one thing, but it's another thing entirely one thing, but another thing totally different is to be enslaved by the black dragons and revive that nation from the past. I have always been quite optimistic and tolerant, I even tried to help that friend not to fall for demonic magic, but I have a limit. but I have a very marked limit, I know that it is probable that those dragons have mind control, or is it because they are very good at convincing people?
or is it because they are very good at convincing people, either way, I hate the lack of freedom and if those very old scrolls have any scrolls have some reason, then this new empire that is rising will not be very different from the demonic slaves... at least not in the demonic slaves... at least in my opinion. I would have liked before fighting at least to hear what the black dragons have to say, I want to know what they have to say. I really want to know what they are looking for by reviving that empire, all the paladins would be very reluctant to collaborate with them, but I think we could have reached a middle ground... But that's life, you can almost never choose the best way, at most you can choose the least worst.
Now all of us survivors are faced with a huge dilemma, where to go? the gold guard tried to go to their continent, a group of paladins went with them, this event ended the little cohesion that was the little cohesion that was left among us, so I have to choose where to go. Many decide to go to Kerrel, basically the last remaining kingdom, since Renga is really out of the question. A friend of mine decided to go to his home in Salria, even though he knows that the orcs conquered it, he says that he is supposedly very friendly with the centaurs, so he has he says he is supposedly a good friend of the centaurs, so he has a place to go in case his family is dead. his childhood and youth he was a merchant in Salria and the centaurs were the majority of his clients, but I decided not to go with him, but it seems not to go with him, but apparently if he managed to convince a few paladins to accompany him, I will pray for them to survive such a trip. survive such a journey. In the end I decided to take the initiative to try to seek refuge in the dwarven realm, so I decided to follow the group that was leaving, I decided to follow the group that was heading that way.
Along the way we managed to catch up with the dwarves, but ended up losing some of them on the way. the hurried journey ended up opening the wounds of the weakest, succumbing to disease or hemorrhage, but we managed to reach them.... we managed to catch up with them... Just to stop us, they explained to us that the great king Zarin does not want to have nothing with humans and that we should go back to where we came from, I tried to convince them to let us talk to the king, but even though I could tell they I tried to convince them to let us talk to the king, but although it was clear that they wanted to help us, they did not really let us get close to the king. It wasn't until that a group of runic priests recognized us, first they thanked us for helping to clean up the tunnels, and then they first thanked us for helping to clean the main tunnels and then another one personally thanked me for saving his life. I remember that battle very well, it was a great fight, where we helped the dwarves with all their domestic enemies. it was a pleasure to have been commanded by Sir Praxeus, that man was the ideal paladin, a great example to follow for all mankind. to follow for all mankind, unfortunately we never found his body, it is thought that he was consumed by a black dragon, but I have faith black dragon, but I have faith that he survived.
The runic priests were very kind to me, so much so that they were able to convince the high king Zarin to listen to our request. We could not talk to him personally, but at least they allowed us to write a letter, at the end my superiors thanked them. at the end my superiors thanked them; apart from this they helped us to heal the wounded and then we had a couple of beers with them. We had a couple of beers with them, in the background I found looks of apathy and mistrust, they must be Bloodstone, I thought, but then I noticed that it was I thought, but then I noticed that it was a big feeling, this internal war has done a lot of damage, damage that can be irreparable if not that can become irreparable if we don't try to mend the past mistakes.
In the end we received a letter from King Zarin, it is a bit short, but he says that this request is not something that can be answered overnight. answered overnight, that we must wait for him to discuss it with his court, but nevertheless we are allowed to wait in his lands until it is answered. but we are allowed to wait in their lands until the request is answered, although we will not be allowed to enter their cities. This leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth, I try to encourage my companions, but it is always difficult to keep everyone happy. happy, in the end another group split up to return to Kerrel.
At least we managed to set up some tents, we are more or less a hundred people, not all of us are paladins, sometimes I wish that Salomar was still alive, he would know how to keep the paladins together, he would know how to convince the dwarves that they are allies, he would know how to deal with the black dragons... What if I try to be like Salomar?... No... I'm too young and stupid, I'm not charismatic and I don't have any prestige, I'm too weak and too dreamy. too weak and dreamy, I have to put my feet on the ground, I can't aspire to much, I can be talented... But how many talented people have not fallen?, I have been very lucky to have survived to this day and I don't even know if I can be I don't even know if I can be a good captain, so how can I aspire to more?... I still have a lot to learn at least master Salomar was sharing his wisdom with me... But in honor of his memory, I will try my best and earn the necessary recognition to be considered a paladin, not for my talents or knowledge, but for my works and deeds. knowledge, but for my deeds and exploits, and perhaps someday people will remember Joshua ShieldBroken as one of the last paladins who managed to survive.
 
Level 24
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Jul 10, 2017
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178
Dragon word.

It was rare to see General Bloodclaw rest. But during the few times, where he allows himself the time to do it, he does it alone. The only one who is allowed to be by his side at such times is his direwolf, Zed. Nor is it very difficult for the general to have privacy. His own soldiers have a mixture of respect and terror for him ... mostly the latter.

  • Sometimes I envy your life, Zed.

The general said as he stroked the head of his monstrous and loyal wolf. It was common knowledge among the troops that Zed had ripped off the arm of a nobleman who tried to pat his head. The gigantic wolf only accepted affection from a handful of people, which were generally accepted by its owner.

  • Are you okay, General?

Gardon heard behind his back, and as he turned, he found those eyes that no human could possess even with a thousand years of battles and wars. His lieutenant and his right hand man, Thanok, was leaning against a tree near where he and his pet were resting.

  • I'm still alive.
  • Good.

They were silent for a few seconds before Gardon looked at him.

  • How are the soldiers?
  • Bored.
  • I didn't ask what you think of them.

Thanok did not reply. Zed sighed and leaned back on the grass looking up to where the forest they were in let him see. The lieutenant pulled the canteen from his waist and drank a little before speaking again.

  • The elven troops arrived this morning. I put them to train immediately as soon as they were accommodated among the troops.
  • And?
  • Mediocre and inept, all of them. They waste time writing poems and songs instead of using the bow and sword. I forbade them to do any kind of stupid thing like that while they are part of our army.

Gardon got up from where he was sitting, causing Zed to do the same on alert.

  • Elves are known for that. How did they take it?
  • They complained. One showed his discontent in the form of a song.
  • What did you do?
  • I cut off his tongue and forced him to give it to one of our wolves ... obviously.
  • I see ... any other problem?

Thanok remained silent, which the General implied as no. The three of them walked together in the direction of the outpost where his troops awaited orders.
Coming out of the thick of the trees, the general saw four bodies hanging from the branches of a massive oak. Three men with the mark of the Iron Fist on their skin, as is the custom among the troops. The last was a half-naked black-haired woman.

  • And this is?

He asked looking at Thanok, who uninterested in the corpses, said.

  • Disobedient recruits.
  • What did they do?
  • They sneaked out to a nearby brothel.
  • And the woman?
  • The courtesan.

Gardon looked at them. All three showed no more than twenty years. All big and tall and strong just by looking at them. The killing of soldiers off the battlefield was something Bloodclaw detested almost as much as the politics of the realms, as far as his methods were concerned.

  • Didn't it occur to you to punish them in another way? These are three less soldiers against our enemies!
  • Will the death of those three apes change the course of the war?
  • ...
  • If it were up to me, I'd castrate all these primates. The magnitude of the stupid things they are capable of doing in pursuit of fornicating makes me sick.

Gardon looked Thanok in the eye. The absence of any regrets for what he had just said was something that made even him uncomfortable.

  • If it were up to you ... but it isn't.
  • Yes, that is not in doubt.
  • Well. From now on, when things like that happen, punish them. I don't care how, but don't kill them. I need numbers to win this war, is that clear?
  • It is understood.

They were silent for a few seconds, looking at each other.

  • Apes and primates you called them ... I'm a man too, you know?
  • No, you're not.
  • No? And what am I then?
  • The general.

Bloodclaw fell silent ... only to then continue walking towards the base. There was nothing left to say after all ... the dragon was right.
 
Level 24
Joined
Jul 10, 2017
Messages
178
A drink between beards

Even when fire falls from the sky and the seas become blood. A dwarf will always find a time to sit with another dwarf, just to tell past stories and share a drink. Every dwarf who repeats his beard knows this.

  • Did ye build it?
  • No. But I have modified it so much that it is already another weapon.

Ask Zarin , High King of the dwarves, to Orgen. General of the Bloodstones and perhaps the best sniper his people have ever seen and will see in history. While arming and disarming the rifle's bullet chamber.

  • How many deaths do ye have?
  • Stop counting long ago. Although I don't know if counting the bony asses count.
  • I was talking about the ones that hurt.

Orgen remained silent for a few seconds before answering such a personal question.

  • Why do ye care to know that?
  • Because I am the king of our people.
  • Are we yer people?

The answer in the form of a question bit the king's heart. But he hides it, taking a sip of his cup. It was known among the clans that the Bloodstones were... "curious", for a lack of a better word. For them fire, gunpowder and metal were a sacred trinity. If things didn't explode, it meant there was work to be done. Their lives were more exciting, but they were shorter because of their way of being.

Because of this, they were always frowned upon by the other clans. They call themselves progressive, but their culture often becomes transgressive of the ancient customs of the ancestors.

  • All dwarves are me people.
  • Don't yer say it just because yer need as many soldiers as possible for the battles to come?
  • Aye.


Orgen stopped repairing his weapon and looked at Zarin with his good eye.

  • Don't ye deny it?
  • I need as many men as I can. We are at war with the whole damn world. If I get distracted for a moment, I will have humans and elves sticking arrows up me arse.

The last comment brings a laugh to the sniper. That also get a laugh from the king of the dwarves. They both laughed for a while, which cleared the atmosphere of any tension that existed before. After finishing laughing, they remained silent until the king continued.

  • But I need peace among me people. ALL OF THEM.
  • ...
  • With ye more than any other. Ye are royalty after all.
  • Royalty... that me great-greater uncle shag the niece of a clan chief has nothing of royal.
  • Does it bother ye not to be closer to Ragnar?
  • Na... Ragnar must endure speeches, meetings, and a LOT of complaints. I just want to kill demons. Shoot them between the eyes, without them realizing that they are dead.

Zarin took the bottle of elf wine and filled his cup and that of his companion.

  • I thought kings were served.
  • Did I drop me beard that you see me as a human?
  • I didn't know ye didn’t like them.
  • Not all of them. There are good men, good elves, good wizards…
  • The only thing I like about them are their women.

They both laughed again. They drank a little more and stayed quiet for a while.

  • Two
  • Excuse me?
  • Two deaths that hurt.
  • Family?
  • Me sister Grunna and her daughter Nanna... Me bullet chamber jammed.... a stinky sulfur son of a boot toke them away from me.
  • I'm sorry... I lost me brother too, Mordin. The green skin bass took him away.

Orgen looked at the king of his race. He took his cup and put it in front of him saying.

- For Mordin, High King.

Zarin saw this and he did the same thing.

- For Grunna and Nanna, me friend.
 
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Level 20
Joined
Nov 17, 2019
Messages
209
Hey guys, I wrote a new fanfic! It's about Larine and Gardon, I hope you enjoy it.

Light and Darkness

Gardon Bloodclaw was not afraid of the dark. The night felt like a warm cloak around his shoulders. The nearly full moon bathed the elven forest in black and gray, hiding and shifting its truths, but Gardon’s feet were sure and his heartbeat steady. In the darkness, he was free. Zed howled at the moon, while he was busy carving a toy from a wooden log. He couldn’t just sit around, while doing nothing. He never could. Even as a boy, Gardon always found it boring to just lie around. He wanted to change the world, make things the way he wanted them to be. Art was something he always appreciated, even though his ineptitude at sculpting was only overshadowed by his awful singing. Never the less, he was eager to make it, because it was for someone special. Very special. Suddenly, the bushes next to the nearby, glimmering river moved ever so slightly. Even though Gardon couldn’t see it, Zed jumped ahead, only to be greeted by a soothing female voice.

― Did you miss me Zed? ― Asked the hooded woman. ― Good boy. ― She said, petting his head. As she moved closer, Gardon could finally see her face. Like all elves, Larine made an impressive appearance. Taller than most humans, although still not taller the Gardon, the ranger stood clad in knee-high leather boots, dark green pants and blouse, and an oak-brown travel cloak. Gloves that stretched nearly to her elbows protected her hands while yet enabling her to use her bow hanging at her side with ease. It was practical but at the same time, very elegant. Her red hair was long and loose, her eyes were staring into his, as if expecting him to say something.

― Larine. Why did you call me here? Maintaining an empire is not an easy task.

― Trust me, keeping a kingdom together is no simple matter either. ― She smiled, while moving closer to him. ― I wanted to talk to you. You said in your letters, that you wanted to see them, but couldn’t because… well it would be inappropriate… but I wanted you to see them. ― The beautiful woman smirked, as she saw the wooden knight in his hand. ― But you already knew that, didn’t you?

― I had a hunch. ― Gardon reluctantly opened his palm. ― I wish I could give them more.

― You can. Follow me. ― The red haired girl took his and led him deeper into the forest.

― It’s a miracle this part of the forest survived the war. Most of your kingdom is beyond saving.

― I know. I’ve been trying to tell my people that relocating to Zyainor would be for the best, but they are reluctant to say the least.

― Give them time, they will realise it eventually. ― They stopped at a small tree house hidden between two large trees. Light emanated from its windows, illuminating the dark forest. They stepped inside the small wooden shelter, leaving Zed to guard the door. Larine took off her cloak and her gloves, placed her bow and quiver on the floor, and Gardon took of his armor and put his sword next to Larine’s bow. There was a bed inside the cottage, a few chairs with a small table, and… a cradle. Gardon stepped closer to the it.

― She is Parlea, and she is Velina. ― Larine said, while pointing at them. She was smiling ear to ear. Gardon didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to wake them up, but at the same time, he wanted to hold them in his arms. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t say anything. ― It’s been 4 months since they were born, but I feel like it’s been an eternity. In some ways, they are like their father, merciless. ― She laughed. ― Yesterday, Velina wouldn’t let my hair go, no matter what. It’s like… if she decides to do something, nothing can stop her.

― You know what they say, the ends justify the means. ― Laughed Gardon. The babies were his spitting image. Sleeping peacefully, they knew nothing of the cruel world around them. He placed the wooden knight in their cradle. ― I should have made another one. One knight is not enough.

― What’s stopping you? Stay with us. At least for tonight. There are so many things I want to tell you… I… I missed you. ― Gardon wanted to tell her, how much he missed her, but was still short on words. If he was just a soldier, he would have married Larine, but he was a Ca'laer and his life was tied to his Ca'lea. Even if it was a loveless marriage, it brought peace to the kingdoms. Without Vail, Zyainor could never have been born, and the dragons would never have been his allies. Instead of saying empty words, he kissed her, gently. She responed, hugging him tightly, while deepening the kiss.

― Wait, we shouldn’t wake them up. ― Said Gardon, caressing her face.

― Not even a siege could wake them up. They are good sleepers. I on the other hand, am a very bad sleeper. ― She said, while making a gesture towards the bed. ― It just can’t be helped, I can’t sleep in cold beds. ― The candlelight illuminated the entire house, they were practically bathing in their red shine. Gardon wondered if the candles were magical. After a few moments he decided that spending a night in the light might not be a bad thing after all. Gardon Bloodclaw was not afraid of the dark, but he wasn’t scared of stepping into the light either. Larine’s warmth felt like a warm cloak around his beating heart. They bathed in each others scent, unsure of what the future will bring. The only thing Gardon knew, is that the light of his life, Larine and the kids, set him free.
 
Level 10
Joined
Oct 23, 2016
Messages
89
“Children” of Thanok

Our story starts with a desperate but good women who made a poor choice in the hope of saving innocent lives, Jani Ospedale a Good orphanmother who ran a tiny poor new orphanage in the new Zynaize Empire, She made a choice that the children may eat and live to name and dedicate the Orphanage to a Great Zyanise lord, and she choose Lord Thanok. the right balance of importance, But too important to be offended she mused as she drafted a fine neatly written letter after all he had a reputation as a Irrepressible and loyal general a grand man whom money likely meant little to. She hoped that he would be honored by her decision and would provide funding for the children entrusted to her care. Yet unfortunately for her sake he did just that. What she thought would be a place of refuge for displaced and lost children would instead be far closer to an academy in nature.

The children would be dedicated to a strict regimen of classes, exercises, and brutal evaluations. While the punishments were light when they were younger the peer pressure stress and fear would drive the Kids to a near frenzy every year when it came time for Thanok to come and Evaluate them. Perhaps this would have broken them had it not been for Jani’s constant care always showering the children with love and stories of grand heroes and adventures in the days of yor.

He who would have been a woundhealer.
Even with Zyanior shifted focus of magical development the healing arts through light or otherwise are still of extreme interest and importance to them, In this Biliant had in spades, a natural to the gentler side of light magic he even as a young child could mend the wounds of the other kids and himself. For his evaluations he knew he had to impress as he was weaker than the other kids and his magic while useful was hardly flashy or impressive. So he took one of the chickens from the pen attached to the orphanage and under Lord Thanoks watch snapped its neck and than reaching into the light itself brought it back. It was enough.
For he is a Banisher.

She who would have been a opera diva
Music is human nature and from Jani’s lullabies to the somber songs of those at work to the rowdy songs of the tavern, Andalah had the ear and memory for them all. Her voice sweet and clear could cut through the most painful of days and she never forgot a thing anyone told her. When it came to Evaluations she had passing scores at best she had to do something impressive she snuck into the edge of Lord Thanoks camp the night before and in a nearby tree she climbed sat and listened all night long to the quiet voices of the guards at watch not quiet enough for her ears. She did not know if she impressed Lord Thanok when she recited all of the guards' gossip, their patrols, their schedules and their habits to him, but it was enough.
For she is a Spy.


She who would have been a grand knight of virtue
Strength is one thing but knowing how to fight and how to apply her power to topple her foes was all Alia cared about, when she was young her foes were the cruel teachers that hounded them day in and day who never were good enough for. As she grew older she settled on more abstract foes: the demons she was told killed her parents or the orcs that would strangle infants in their cradle and of course the empire of cowards that abandoned the continent. For her evaluation she choose to challenge one of Thanoks guards to a duel she knew they would underestimate her drive, even as she took a sword through her side she drove forward and ripped the helmet off her foe and beating them unconscious with it perhaps it was more truly a draw, but it was enough
For she is a soldier of Ironfist.

He who would have been a farmer
Jurrik never impressed his teachers nor was he ever close to other kids; he wasn't especially strong or smart nor did he have magic. Perhaps the only one who cared for him was Jani, she would always regale him, especially with stories of the times before of the noble kings and queens of the kingdoms. When the time for evaluations came near and he dwelled in hopelessness Jani told him to not worry he would always have a place here caring for the children and that Lord Thanok was nothing more than a cruel brute for putting them through all this. Jurrik knew then how he would pass his evaluations, She burned with the orphanage along with her contraband books and diary with such heinous treachery that he dared not read more than a little. And the death of this traitor was enough.
For he is a patriot.
 
Level 10
Joined
Oct 23, 2016
Messages
89
Last Light
(Spoilers for the post second void war period using the short stories for frame of reference.)

Prologue

Angelics beings of virtue Risen to near inhuman degrees of devotion and light through means few know and less understand. The angelic themselves believed it was the purity of their flesh and faith that brought them such an ascension. But despite all this they were still just human and as all humans do they make “mistakes”, and those who make perhaps more visible mistakes may find it best to be in seclusion praying for the better part of a year, And in the circumstances a baby should be found in the room of an angelic it is best put swiftly to death without a word about it. If they were not revered beings then the punishments would likely be harsher but to punish something would mean admitting that it happened and who knows what ideas could get in the heads of their fellow angelics should they know about such things.

Likely not much would have ever come about were it not for the collapse of the golden guard and the death of all its leaders besides the faithless Lord Marin who cared not for traditions or implications which seeded doubt into his remaining soldiers, and such a soldier who has already began to doubt, tasked not through words but suggestion to kill a new born babe in the face of all endless suffering he has seen may instead make a different choice. Who with few choices would entrust the babe to a capable seeming elf who claimed to be investigating the death of her general she protested but upon learning about what her refusal would entail she reluctantly accepted.

Perhaps saving this human life would pay back the one sacrificed for her contemplated,though she had no idea where to go the new elven kingdom no longer feels safe under their new “Queen” as the infant began to cry she realized the soldier had not left her with a name, after a quick check he was a male infant, perhaps the soldier that saved her life? But that may draw attention after all, an elven woman with a human child is unusual, no no an elvish name and a claim of half elven nature instead. Alerion or Rion when he needs to pass as a human and a last name after all elves tend to go by new last names, Stagstar after all it was the constellation he was born under, may it protect him she thought suddenly filled with a strange fear as she remembered the horrors that have surrounded her these last few months. “Alarion Stagstar may your constellation guide and protect you." she said aloud hoping that the stars would listen to her pleas.

PS Been thinking of doing a longer form story and decided to write it down let me know if you have any thoughts.
 
Level 5
Joined
Aug 19, 2021
Messages
10
great news everyone shar challenged me to write a fanfic

Selior's Redemption

-----------------------------

The Imperial Army had failed. Completely. Their towers and walls had been reduced to rubble by the jagged stones of Orcish war machines. Selior's finest knights lay dead; the crows had been scared from their corpses by hungry Skullblade war beasts. The smell of charred flesh hung heavy in the air. Groups of yellow-clad mercenaries picked through the rubble, extracting anything that still held value. Small pockets of fighting persisted. A group of doomed soldiers barricaded themselves inside a barracks, delaying their death to the berserkers outside. A stray sea drake fell from the sky, pierced by a dozen spears. Mystic flames crackled high on the hill that was once Selior’s bastion. Kenos was, for the moment, extinguished. Rath Wolfscar tore through the wreckage at the head of a pack of his elite warriors. He screamed into the dust,

“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?”

-----------------------------

General Cleavehand woke up surrounded by orcs. Wait, that didn’t make sense. His head hurt. Something must have knocked him out. He struggled to remember. What was it? The last thing he remembered was some kind of magic...blast...thing from an object near his feet. All the questions were making his headache worse. Who were these orcs? Why were they not killing him? He tried to sit up, but he was tied to his...cot. Apparently he was on a cot. Better than the floor. No no no. He needed to focus. What kind of place was he in? Yellow. He was in a yellow place.

“Ah,” a husky voice cut through the haze, “I see you’re awake.”

“Whuh?” Selior slurred out.

“Don’t worry. We’re not getting paid for your death.”

“Paid?” Selior tried to look at the...orc? He was oddly composed for an orc.

“In fact, someone has put quite a lot of money on you being alive. You might not like where you’re going to wake up, though.”

The orc blurred before him as Selior began to slip back into the darkness. He’d expected to die like a hero, but maybe Blen would beat him to that too.

-----------------------------

When Selior finally came to again, he was alone in a barren place. More alert than last time he’d been awake, he quickly determined that he’d been left with his armor and axe, as well as a hefty pack of supplies. In this craggy place, the most prominent scenery was a massive, menacing fortress. He could make out the shapes of beasts flying above it – were those red dragons?

He didn’t have long to study his surroundings before his attention was caught by a shout. The general wheeled to face a group of orcs. Weird orcs. They had red skin. They were too organized to be normal orcs, too. He could immediately read the structure of the patrol group. There were eight of them. One mage. They began to fan out and advance. Selior readied his axe.

-----------------------------

Barely two minutes later, Selior was standing among the corpses of the orcish patrol. Blood dripped from his mustache onto the sandy ground. He was sodden with blood, really. Most of it wasn’t his own.

“The Goldaxe were right,” a voice boomed from behind him “this is very interesting.”

Selior looked behind him. Then he looked up. He was faced with an absolute giant of a man, larger even than the two other ogres that flanked him. His rotund shape was clad in heavy armor. Looking above the man’s hairy chest, the general found a handsome, no, a brutish countenance, from which piercing eyes stared down at him. He could see the glimmer of cleverness – or was it intelligence? - in the beast’s gaze.

“Interesting?” the smaller ogre to the left said in a deep, feminine voice, “it’s dangerous! Our tracks now lead directly to a dead Moghtar patrol!”

“You’re right,” said the large man, “we’ll need to cover this up quickly before they can suspect us.”

“Just pin it on the human.”

“Do you want to be next?” Selior hissed at the man.

“I’d crush you,” the ogre deadpanned, “but we shouldn’t fight when we have a common enemy.”

“Who? The orcs?”

“The Moghtar,” the ogre corrected him, “that fortress would still be ours if it hadn’t been taken while we were away.”

Selior lowered his axe, “they’re just red orcs. Now who are you?”

“My name is Brockta. I am the leader of the Ogre Legion.”

“I’m Gen-,” Selior decided mid-word that it would be best for the ogres not to know his true identity, “-kint,” he glanced over to a nearby cliff face, “crag-,” a gust of wind blew particulate into his face, “-dust.”

“What brings you to these lands, Genkint Cragdust?” said the ogre who, if he had noticed anything wrong, did not remark on it.

“I was in a battle and woke up here. Wherever the hell this is.”

“You humans would say that we’re in Salria,” Brockta said, “but we should relocate before the next patrol shows up” Brockta turned to the ogre woman “the Goldaxe are still in the area and this patrol was killed with an axe. If we can pay them to be seen in the area the Moghtar will be quick to assume that their hated enemies were responsible.”

As the ogres fell back to their own territory, covering their tracks as they went, Selior followed. He’d rather associate with his own kind, but the land looked rough and this was his best chance to get food and water. Staring at the huge man, he wondered if he also had a huge- what was he thinking about? How would that even work? Well, an ogre would probably put a human to shame regardless. Not that Selior cared about such things. He tried his best to cast aside those pernicious thoughts.

-----------------------------

Selior watched the ogres assemble into tight formations. They executed, with drilled precision, maneuvers that they had once struggled with. It was satisfying, watching men who were once undisciplined move like Imperial formations. He had once doubted that the ogres would be able to learn at all, but they were proving to be as smart as any human, but stronger than even the Bull Regiment’s rank and file. Were the empire ever to permit an Ogre Regiment, it would no doubt be a great asset in war. But Selior had long since accepted that he didn’t have much of an empire to return to. He was surely assumed to be dead, and in disgrace regardless. He’d been able to obtain some scraps of news, and he had no love of the Emperor’s apparent plan to abandon the continent his men had died fighting for. Besides, things were simpler here. More fun. And he was finally getting the respect he deserved. There was no Graymoore to steal his glory this time. He was revolutionizing a military single-handedly. Soon, they’d be ready to launch a surprise attack against the Moghtar dragon roosts. This army, led by him and his fiercely intelligent partner, would surely be able to demolish whatever defensive plans the Moghtar could muster.

And, he thought slyly, there are certain advantages to associating with non-humans.

Genkint began to stroll toward the abode of Brockta the Stomper...
 
Level 10
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Oct 23, 2016
Messages
89
Last Light

Chapter 1
Charnel Embers

In just 16 short years She had been turned from a dedicated ranger of the Elven army into an exile and mother of a human child that was not hers but was at the same time. For Mira’s 115 years the events around the period of her turning a hundred saw her trusted general fall, the queen of her people slain and her people becomeing little more than sycophants of an insane nation. There was no centennial party for her, instead she was taking care of a crying fluid leaking human babe. Though little Alarion had been thankfully less difficult than she had been was when she was a teen he had not run off with a love gotten caught by her parents and locked in a tower that she then climbed out of and ran to join the army. Mira lets out a deep sigh, she wonders if her parents are even still alive with everything that's happend it would be impossible to guess.

“Mira what do you think should we just say the obvious? Your family misses you banditry will result in your death etc?” Alarion questioned Mira, pulling her from her thoughts. “If they prove to be difficult we can just tie them up and pull them back” she responded in a low even monotone, that got Alarion into a laugh and some good humor. She looked over him, a male youth of Sixteen years old with a shock of dirty brown-blonde hair the best but cheap light armor she could get him now adorned with various Light and star motifs. He had grown up largely traveling with her through dense wilderness and dangerously unguarded areas she had tried to spend as much time in villages throughout kerral as she could but people would tend to ask questions and after the damned inquisition was formed strangers began to no longer be welcomed anywhere. but where else could they go Rengar’s plague made it unsafe to go there and Zynaior ruins everything it touches.

At least while their life was hard it had imparted to him some skills he was as quiet as an elf in the wilds, though he was at best a decent shot with a bow. Thankfully for him he had a natural affinity over light magic and with what little teaching she could get him from tomes she ‘found’ and a few priests, he had proven to be a very skilled healer. A side effect is that at some point he had become deeply religious in the Light which resulted in him having a bleeding heart to anyone in need or was it the other way around? Regardless, it led them in this situation tracking a group of wayward Kerral peasants far closer to the Zynaise border than she would like.

She smelled it looking at Alarion he had as well the deep smell of burnt timber and flesh, Alarion began to dash forward ducking through the woods. “WAIT” mira called out desperately as she hounded behind when he had become so damned fast. All throughout the chase the smell only worsened and she could begin to see and feel the flickering flames through the treeline. The sense reminded her of the void wars or the fall of the elves, bits bodies many of which were little more than bits of bone and layer of thick ash around the place they were too late by the scene maybe by 2 or 3 days even. “What could have done this, why would this be done? They were just desperate people” Her son called out despairingly with a harsh edge of anger. Mira grabbed him and looked him in the eyes “This is what Zynaior does if they see something or someone as a threat they destroy it utterly and without remorse”. As they stood in the silence of this ruination she felt something shadows moving in the edge of her vision she snapped her bow string firing a quick arrow into a now shrieking target.
 
Level 16
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Jul 31, 2019
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183
"The Visage"
The lands reeked of blood, cinder, and mildew. Once the proud aegis of Kingdoms, thrice broken. The mountains and valleys of Salria alike hoarded death in their bosoms. This was the last stand, the creed of Redfist and Daric will weather and prevail or die in vain. Once proud knights, whose love for their home was as a waxing moon, had their spirits waned upon the twilight of Salria. Their thunder, stolen by court of brutes, reigned within the desperate alliance. The Dominion will see the halo bathing their banner aflame aureole of victory, as troubling visions of Salrian mystics drew ever fated in haste and made after flesh.
Volarian Redfist was furious. The flame of his ruby orbs seared behind the helmet of bloodstone. Tall and immovable he eyed the valley where Dominion advanced. His glaive craved for greenskin's blood yet nary blood shed shall douse his vengeance; for his heart begotten pit in its brow and no love shall relume the shades away. The only peony that ever graced and made its civet festoon his heart was gone decades afore. He wandered his gauntlet thro' his paunch, and deftly got the trinket. The unbosomed jewel was locket and inside it; the engraving of woman. For a moment, he embraced distilled pearls well up behind the helmet that so well veiled his mien. The fair lady was Stephanie Redfist.
The blasted greenskins made pyre of her and made their daughter a savage. His once beloved daughter became the one in spirit with greenskins. She was beyond redemption. For that and for his love who burned, he will make them pay. The dusk lost its shroud at creeping sun painting the heavens faint violet. There were no vespers in the sky to hearten the armies; the portent of doom consorted with the waxing darkness nursing their locusts e'er more for death.
In a trice, out of blue, the zephyr fleeted its breeze towards him; cold, hoary, and oddly familiar. The scent tarried, and bore resemblance to his favorite bloom; peony. The steps rustled behind, and whispers flitted as a fairy mirage:
"Volarian..."
He looked back, and the figure haunted him therein. Aghast, he dropped his sword and shield. The hair of gilt, the cowl of ranger, emerald eyes, figure of nymph, and carriage of doe's spirit; It was Stephanie. Just as she was in life. The burns she suffered at death's door lingered sans presence as if never been sired. He moved alike one approaching the seraphim. She sauntered and no wraith she appeared as she neared. In moments, his hands locked with hers after gauntlets were put off in haste. The touch of home returned in him.
"Stephanie... Is that really you?"
"Yes, my dear Volarian." her voice was a lyre tuned to his ears. The moment he took off his helmet, she caressed his worn temple and her smilet been angelic. She stamped her soft kiss on his cheek and spoke hastily.
"My love, heark here. Pleasantries can wait. You and your allies are outnumbered. To win this war and slay these greenskins, you have to agree with my master."
"My dear, now that you are here my quest rings hollow. Still, the pain they wrought upon us and our daughter... must be paid. What must be done, love? Who is the master you are talking about?" his voice was gentle as one entombed in the love-in-idleness. Suddenly, her grasp turned brumal as the embers of hoar alarumed to their embrace. She pared the tryst and drifted away by steps alike bygone summer's briers exiled by tempest. He now saw to his horrors: Her flush slowly faded unto deathly pale. The velvet of her cowl sullied as if tattered by ravens. The gold of her tassels paled unto tomb's grey. The emeralds wreathed by moon's hoar, turned corpse-white and pearls of her eyes decayed unto mould. Her skin was now apparition's and peeled akin to sloughs of serpent. This was the husk of his wife. He stood petrified.
"You... are not my Stephanie! What on the earth are you!?"
"Volarion, my love: When I wandered; tortured; in the world of mist, it is He who harked my wailings. He made my tomb a womb that will birth me anew. He gave me purpose. He gifted me new life to direct you, my love." just as she orated, the cloud of sapphire manifested at her right. The portal diffused and, out of fear, the lich was standing there. The bones of being were obsidian and, where the eye sockets are, sheened sinister emerald. Its robes were tattered yet ornate, weaved in velvets embroidered ancient runes well. Its jaded crown sceptered nine jewels of finery begrimed in luster. Inside the chest of blacked bones, the stone of fallen violet pulsed halo and susurrations of soft storm. It was none other than Aridon; Lord of the Dead himself. The Duke was now stricken with rage again.
"You... you dare to defile my beloved!? I will make you pay, undead filth." just as he was ready to draw his sword, the arrowhead found its mark upon his shoulder. It was coated with ice and burnt like witch's gruel. Yet he felt no blood gushing. He eyed and found his risen wife drawing her bow. This was beyond crestfallen.
"Mind your tone, whelp. I've been here in this world far longer than you can ever conceive. I gifted your wife a life, yet you discard my gift. I will give you one more chance to rectify your mistake. Allow me to bolster your forces with mine. Do you accept offer?" Aridon, high and poised, made his speech ever kingly. The seconds of silence, and the enraged duke thundered his last act of defiance.
"After I'm done with Orcs, I will obliterate every of you rotten corpse! Not even a rotten morsel of marrow would be left from your kind! And I will smash your bones into powder and scatter those pathetic ashes unto sea, never to be remade. Do you hear me? Even this HUSK you sired will know oblivion!!!" paralyzed he was, he made his voice known.
"A pity. Seems I have to leave you here in doom. It matters not, for I'm in control. Come, child. We are done here." as he uttered, the wave of frost enveloped both. The last gaze she locked with baleful red of her husband seared her. In a moment, her visage begotten a bead of black tear round her dead eyes, and the sight tattered the duke more. Alike winter's wind, they soared away, gone. With sheer resolve, Volarian now stood and prepared to slaughter greenskins and those consorted with them. Before the dawn of battle, he eyed the locket one last time.
"The visage... Stephanie, I will free you from this dark visage... beloved."
 
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Level 16
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Jul 31, 2019
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183
"Where the Shadows Weep..." (Part-1)
The sorrows waxen their brow ghostly thro' pain carved upon this world since the great schism tore the heaven asunder. E'en those who are blest with power thrice cloven unto gems fair; scepter, throne, and crown; are subject to death and his reapers hidden abrow poppies so flush and aphrodisiac that even the greatest mind fell prey to its twilight-plastered vizard spelling delight and mime dazzling. The Former Queen of Elves Keera, now the fallen ruler of Dead Forest, was no exception. She too was fated to fall despite all the dominions subjected to her. She let her follies fully bloom full garden of poppies that stole her away from paradise and tarry begrimed in world of darkness.
In life, she had been the most beloved of elven queens. Her people obeyed every decree of hers. As her foremothers before her, she too was graced with patriotic spirit and fierce love for their people. Her one-time mate, a fine elven noble who begat Renova with her; now the last queen of elves fallen by usurpers; had his spirits crushed when the royal rules cleaved with queen's will. Even her daughter, who fell to arrow cast with bane of vengeance hoary, loved her. Even the human king of Rengar was drawn to her beauty and leniency...
Yet as it was fated that all creations to be fallen, she too had her desires cloud the merits. She locked Renova within the tower, partly for wishing to protect her yet partly for wishing to never interfere with her counsel. She believed her rule infallible yet wished for time to haste his working on future coronation of new queen. The king of Rengar was man of great beauty and chivalry, and so she was swayed by the caprices of love. Yet her charms birthed wiles as she made the king forsake vows of nuptial troth and ecclesiastical virtues. The poor queen had no knowledge of her husband's trysts with exotic swan. She even used her bewitching air to make the king send thousands of his men to shield her realm, and many graves were strewn across the sylvan woods her demesne bloomed to be. These brave men stood high and sooth against death for the foreign folks who only used their heart of aegis. Against rebels of now fallen kingdom of Lor. Against some Demons. Yet peak of her gravest mistake that ultimately led to her torment in the tomb was failing to warn great dragonslayer Rahandir Drakeskull; now fallen champion of Watcher himself. There she let the sloth and grains of pride sully her fate. At night of her last love with king, was last of her fault taking the livery of reaper coming for the harvest. The fallen champion of Rengar conjured boulder of ice that drenched with cold tempests of brume; the sensation of hatred. As the stone cascaded upon her, the last of her thoughts conveyed and haunted on first of her faults; her lack of true love to her daughter. Only pawns she saw all, she realized. She wept as the shadows ferried her to the world of mist...
As the pall of purloined flame beshrouded her remains, she found the mirages of lifetime alighting upon flote of her mind as tempests fleet their bolts. By the time Demons started First Voidwar, her sepulchre was already raided, and, by the mercy of Watcher, she was reborn to undeath. Her once peregrine realm was blotted with traitors; alike magnum opus pied with spools weaved of purple-in-grains demi-jewels. The people of her eastern realm were already too opined with their wills even she began to see intelligence of her court. It was no surprise they would chain themselves to the deceits of Demons coated with speech of honey yet nursed wormwood behind the tongue making mimes for bottled imp that was their mind and smilet cleaved. The promises of wealth, security, status, luxury, and power yare made banes to the hearts elven. Along with Ornasion, she tamed the tide of gold and emerald, and made them sea of pallor; as the fallen waxed the ranks of the damned. Her wayward people would find redemption in her fallen presence as they adore their queen as savior to absolve their hubris. Yet scions of her living people would be further divided, and pieces of her beloved homeland would lay scorched in spoils; From the Dead Forest, she ruled and gaped the rise of new queen from shadows. Larine, the promising ranger whom she admired and even fancied the idea of her being general of Elves. Now, she was the puppet-queen, and her fallen daughter couldn't return to her cold embrace. Sooth, she indeed believed herself the worst queen. Only if she could somehow retrieve Renova's soul and apologize to her pale visage that so bore likeness to hers...
...
"Pentiss, if it's what our master willed and approved, then let us see thro' it." with hundreds of Daviliad elves and Dark Elves of Lenira Nexus flocking behind fallen queen and her equal, they were ready for battle.
"Divine One willed us to invade the realm of Lord of Shadows; for he knew the use of many that were stolen by him. This keystone will open the way..." A chunk of obsidian pulsing with nighty susurration gleamed ever dark. At their front, the citadel of darkness loomed high. The seat of Bhaazirel. This day, Keera would claim the soul of her daughter. This time, out of love and repentance. Many moons Renova spent in the shadows of castle losing its fair facade ne'er, weeping, shall be brought to eclipsed sun waxed in violet cowl; the sun of undeath. To the place where shadows weep, she held her scepter of bones; atop her crown of hoar, the circlet jaded with shading jewels sheened; and braced for the battle ahead...
 
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Level 16
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Jul 31, 2019
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183
"Where the Shadows Weep..." (Part-2)
"Mother will always love you and protect you."
-the verse she wont to utter aloft silken ears of her babe at the twilight of her budding years on the gate of bloom. When Keera coddled her daughter who grew slimmer and hastier as her suckling days deserted sans track, she used to tell stories of elven queens and parables of old, whispering e'er soft and tender.
"Mommy, I loved the parable of Reaper and Queen." a little Renova bespoketh, dazzled by fairies and light conjured in mind. The story was how the powerful queen fell at the death's door and greeted by reaper to offer her throne where the caverns sheened of frost-gemmed sapphires and blest riches.
"How come, sweetheart?"
"She accepted his gift and got the crown of stars! Even if she can't rule her people and be with her loved ones, she can rule from the otherworld and protect them when needed. This reaper was nice to give her such."
Keera pondered for a moment and let the smilet festoon her spotlight, and flitt'd a soft laugh, her tassles crowned as fairy snow upon fleeting embrace of waxing moon and nightly zephyr hoarding balm in its brow:
"You are quite right, darling." In fact, she nursed air of faint dread about the original rendering of story only adult elves know. This was toned down for children; the queen was, in fact, ranger who killed the member of the royal family during tournament with an envenomed arrow and was executed. It was centuries ago, yet the very mention of her name became taboo, and the tomes of history got its one page blotted and burnt. Yet rumors sowed its seeds and all the people in capital lent ear to passing peasants' gossips unbosomed clear as mare of the moon sceptered in pearly halo; the sight of ranger, fled from the tomb and appearing as living spectre upon waning moon, saving the peasant family from the bandits at one night, stilly as grave's bedding peaceful, and vanished adrift wintry gale. Yet one peasant who eyed her visage quickly became pale as a hoar and whispered the name: Iluna. Thenceforth, stories of ghostly guardian who swiftly slew those who attacked the elves propagated and one elven poet, hailing from royal family, began the writing as muses toped his fancies.
At one night, as he treaded thro' the forest he was raided by the bandits but then fell just as swift when the arrows susurrated thro' the leathers and flesh, and pain and muffled groans waned hasty as sickly star. As the dust settled, he eyed the woods, and was wide agape and aghast. There, lo, the famed spectre of woman loomed e'er regent and was angelic yet cold to behold. E'en more wondrous yet frightening to see was the figure standing right about her and later he penned upon his scroll about the creature's presence:
"The bones of being were obsidian and, where the eye sockets are, sheened sinister emerald. Its robes were tattered yet ornate, weaved in velvets embroidered ancient runes well. Its jaded crown sceptered nine jewels of finery begrimed in luster. Inside the chest of blacked bones, the stone of fallen violet pulsed halo and susurrations of soft storm."
This part made Keera chilled to the core. The word "reaper" was perhaps the most suitable word choice for children due to its literal sense and collective feeling of secure familiarity. Soft, such thoughts found 'emselves dispelled by morsel of balm that was Renova's voice:
"Mommy, may I ask something?"
"What may that be, dear?"
"Will you protect us if you rule from otherworld?" that was the wise question. Keera ruminated for moments, and sheened:
"Of course, dear. I will accept the reaper's gift and protect all that's dear to me. Most of all, I will protect you. Mother will always love you and protect you." as she nudged her daughter's nose, so did she squeal in joy:
"Mother will always love you and protect you." so did she repeal and made the memory ringing bells of shadowed past.
...
When she first pruned from the sere rose-bed of tomb entangled by vines of hemlocks sullying her crown of soul, she beheld the very same figure she hoped to not meet in life. It was Aridon and knew it was her patron; the Reaper and she was now the Queen again. She understood. She was fated to live the prophecy of tale as one before her. What happened to her, she didn't stir asking as peak of her regrets veiled much shroud upon her hoary eyne knowing the tears of sorrow; only orphans, strangers, eunuchs, widows, afflicted and innocent have right to spill. Yet her dead pearls could weep no piece of brine anymore, but a bead of tar once dripped when she knew Renova was slain. She wept in shadows as her daughter did.
To the heart of darkness, the shadows echoed as if weeping or resenting her. The keystone was turned, and the gate of citadel opened. The scent of darkness could find wine coated with grains of opium a friend. With Lenira and Daviliad devotees behind her, she steeled herself one last time before treading to where shadows weep...
 
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Level 16
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Jul 31, 2019
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183
"Where the Shadows Weep..." (Part-3)
"Perhaps 'twas primordial will to make light and darkness be cloven; yet we find the demesne of shadows ever present and light dreams away."
-The ancient writing of Arkainian priest of Cult of Shadow God
Pentiss was brooding and ruminating at the ancient philosophy that so well accentuated with webs of Dark Elven wisdom. Her silent broodings tarried well as midnight moon clenches her scepter against the throne of dawn's sun rallying morningstars to sweet choirs. E'en as she sauntered the halls of Bhaazirel's dominion with flocks of velvety yet ironclad stirrings upon wintry and obsidian ground making train at her trail, her visage flushed its pallor not by mirth, but rouge distilled from dark lotus. Alike the asp slithering adrift burrows of rats where nurseries and swarms waxed, she was surreptitious. O' how she knew and upon verge of rapture from mime and troth she will unveil... how shades of elves ne'er look pied yet still hoarding eyne of emerald behind their pristine and niveous vizards... Her spirit found the new husband to worship as lord of altar.
...
Keera stilled her glaive and its cruor-imbrued blades appeared as if inviting wretches of dark for more blood. Her royal guard, decrepit thro' distill'd belladonna of death making their flesh sere yet still potent as witch's mummy in strength, formed the waxing crescent round her presence, making the aegis against principalities of shadows. The place aired stilly, and, once more, Keera and her people felt peace of stone hearth that so kept the painless winter only the dead knows. It was bereft of e'en a whit of soft rustle. So, the shadows were heritage of paradise, one could fancy; the alms for all yet branded a bane by common mind. Yet they were not tempted and deterred by veiled lure.
The hall was enough to house many giants and such the corridors of coal forked unto boughs of ophidian design. The gargoyles sat grimacing and lifeless upon crowns of pillars, and their sightless vigil wasn't for vain after all, as one could see susurrations of night-felled cloud festering round their stone sockets. Vigilance and stealth were the doves of Daviliad nexus, and they durst and dare not to fail as the follies spelling frenzy upon faint heart steered 'em. Many were ensorcelled by shame and repentance for consorting with Demons in life, and many were bewitched by pains wrought upon their loved ones as woven by spools pied and marred upon tapestry of life. Still, their redemption ne'er harked the chime of belfry and their hearts were sans vesper and sun-crowned glims sceptered against the death and darkness. Yet they suffered and yare looked for final salvation; they longed for yoke to free 'em which the death canst not succeed.
As they reached what appeared to be main hall with moments fleet'd alary upon tempest of time speeding 'em unto oblivion, their attention was arrested aright the jewel to inquisitive mind; there, the tree of obsidian, titanic, festooned many rose blooms astir its boughs serpentine and making fine brow of gems, coal-flushed and robed of darkling petals.
"Could it be... "
"The Garden of Shadows?" some elves murmured and finally mewed soft zephyr of melody, hoarse yet haunting, anew the barren domain...
 
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"Where the Shadows Weep..." (Part-4)
"Winter, wherefore have thou a scepter?
Whence Summer trades blooms tarrying tame,
Yet well thou sully her spinel flush and make pale...
"
-The fragments of Arkainian poet; now perused and appreciated by the Rasi scholars. Speculated to be written during the twilight days of Arkainian empire. (-commentary of Nyxemon; the high scholar and pen-wright of Rasi)
All living races despise and mourn winter; the most cursed season of all. To elves, this meant special affliction symbolizing ushering 'em unto newborn graves and toped stupor of melancholy aloft mind made barren thro' comfort purloined apace. They believed winter siring reapers to make 'em forsake a lay piped thro' muses airing the fifes deft and wine's comforts. Yet the undeath tailored shawl of wraith o'er the rose-struck sight of mortals, and the former dispelled illusion of fleeting paradise and inferno twinned 'twixt bosom of life. The elves of Daviliad nexus were the paragon jewels of this rebirth, and the brume welcomed all in undeath and made true peace; unlike summer who lost its blest mimes to the gauntlet of frost, weak and fleeting as life.
Here, the Garden of Shadows, anchored within the hearth of Bhaazirel, inspired clemency in lieu the dread. The roses waxed in allure at each passing morsel of moment, and the blacked vesper of eclipse sheened from their petals as the eyes saw 'em and knew 'em comely. Their bouquet aphrodisiac than any sweet oil and nectar, maugre the heavy and frosty air they were spelling. Yet it was all in the conception of mortal senses... for only Lenira elves were living. Daviliad elves beheld the rose and indeed found 'em appealing yet they smelt only faint aroma... for the undeath pared the sensations void yet still some morsels remained for they ushered from the grave. The circlet of poppies began duping the reason of Dark Elves and made 'em transfixed upon the tree that bloomed new elixirs... o' folly, the dark lotus outplayed and outdone by another beauty of verdure?
"The flowers... they beckon us..."
"Divine... the taste of heaven..."
"We need new crowns and throne... and we found 'em..."
"The shadows... distilling the sweetest wine..."
"We... offer... ourselves..." the priestesses of Sisterhood, driders, and all warriors voiced the newborn cravings and the flush from dark lotus disappeared from their visages, even Pentiss's. Keera knew something was amiss, and her warriors steeled for the anticipation of foul play. As the dark elves sauntered towards the tree and its serpentine boughs, Keera and her warriors halted their ascension. Unwilling to spill the blood of their living brethren, they thus formed the phalanx and Keera voiced:
"Pentiss, what is the meaning of this? Why do you stand still and let your warriors go astray?" Pentiss was silent, but then let the velvety peals flee from her arched smilet. The malice was distilled well and unveiled therein. Keera realized. She and her warriors were tricked. The warnings of Rahandir and many leading undead were not for nought. The voices of their suspicions towards Pentiss were based. E'en after the fall of Elven Kingdom and coronation of Larine, her schemes were veiled perfect and her loyalty to Watcher indubitable.
"You... the traitor! I should've known and silenced you before. You brought us here to become thralls of Master of Shadows!" she was furious.
"O' your majesty, naivety was always your bane. And now... witness the domain of Bhaazirel, our true Divine One!" just as she orated; lo, the crowns of obsidian pillars were sans guardians and they made sifting adrift the ceiling; the murder of flights screeched with hollowness of shadow and flung down to perch upon the Daviliad aegis, and to make the now frenzied Dark Elves succeed towards their prize...
 
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"Where the Shadows Weep..." (Part-5)
"When Death cowled Shadow o'er his visage hollow and brumal; all bowed to the scepter of bones and obsidian as throne bosomed godly jewels in its brow fustin' and wreathed of palsied poppies. Pared of yore, the primordial union dispersed, and bruits blossomed the tales prosing the storied figure hailing from the divine lineage; Divine One; coming to bejewel his dominion once more. Besides its wing, Master of Shadows as twin."
-The Missing Page of Sisterhood of Spider Cult's Forbidden Tome
A labored moon passed since the end of Second Voidwar. Pentiss saw her rise to power and dethroned former mistress; powerful yet hubristic lowborn whose deceits and insights were unmatched in her prime, yet the Time toiled its haste to dull the most argute minds. The children of Divine One left the grip of underworld at the light of his calling. By birthright, the realm of surface-dwellers was theirs to conquer and reign, yet the word of master rung infallible. She saw the descendants of her wayward people tarrying the realm where heavens willed their megrims wan, flushed, and pied beyond order; the truth she abominated, for the remnants of her insurgent brethren lacked all the powers, graces, and wills attributed to Dark Elven kin. They were wanton and sans ambitions; how they survived thro' feebleness was beyond her grasp, for the art of asps prized venom thro' subtlety and action twinned. Yet perhaps the deceitfulness molded unto another form of wretchedness that crowned grace to the charm sallow... judging from how elven monarchs well-used chivalry of proud yet naive humans. The intrigues and revolution of Elven Kingdom; the harmless conspiracy of her undead cronies; the fall of kingdom of Salria, and, lastly, the fall of Souleater Legion. She saw it all. To none, howbeit, she ne'er divulged the secret that she nursed sans folly; the encounter with Master of Shadows...
The soft winter traded its muslins for fleeted presence of moon in underworld. In the chilly chambers of Delusia's palace, she sipped morsels of elixir from chalice obsidian; flumped deep upon the comforts of her throne, brooding. The sere petals of dark lotus appeared afloat the claret nightly and sifting odd mist of shadows from its liquid mould. Her ruby spheres sheened cruor-moons, yet, lo, in a trice, the darkness of pit gleamed in lieu of 'em from twain vespers. The dark lotus petals in the wine tailored new flush of petals, and the midnight black they became in lieu of twilight violet they were blest to appear. Nary, they were now fleshy and waxed in lieu of sundered petals made straws; aye, they were finest rose petals! From her pale beauty, the eclipse alarumed in each moment and no shade would seem to avaunt. Yet, thro' tip of finger, she spelled an incantation and kept her form. The shadows faded back to the back as if levanting to their burrow unseeable; leaving beholden to joys pilfered. A faint snicker susurrated from somewhere the chamber. She knew all too well.
"Come." she orated, and the winds of obsidian conjured at her front and as the dust settled, the knight in sinister armor sired unto common eyne and clapped his gauntlet-robed hands molded of shadow made in flesh, applauding. He was the towering figure yet still seducingly macabre. He was pleased.
"You have done well, child. You can now control shadows and let it not consume you." his helm flitted royal violet about its sockets; the sign of satisfaction.
"What brings you here... master?" Pentiss asked and the smilet of graveyard shift's wraith formed upon her visage.
"Let pleasantries skip: we shall now proceed with our plan." Bhaazirel spoke with chill and allure of winter's night. Pentiss pondered and then spoke:
"If it's what you will, master. The preparations have been made."
"It is time to wax my flock. Your people are ready. You have done well, my dark beauty." as he enthused, Pentiss's claim was always sincere with her new master:
"Thy will be done..."
...
"Keera... Keera?" the voice dispelled the visions bearing the masque of nightmare. It was Pentiss's. Nay warriors keeping the formation. Nay frenzied elves aspiring for the bouquets of midnight. Nay murder of shadows assailing from the eclipsed heavens of castle. Nought, e'en a smile of treachery was a chimera. Keera stood her ground and found herself all at the mercy of great tree. They were visions and her scrutiny proved Lenira elves were tame. The roses, although still obsidian, ceased to spell halo of shadows.
"Let us press forward. We shouldn't linger here." Keera ordered and all passed the Tree of Shadows. Behind the tree, another corridor loomed. At the rim of her eyes, howbeit, Keera saw the plumes of roses vanished...
 
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