Here is where I am keeping all the submissions, feel free to post here your thoughts on each story.
DO NOT POST YOUR SUBMISSIONS HERE! THAT BELONGS IN THE OTHER THREAD WHICH CAN BE FOUND IN MY SIGNATURE!
STORY ORDER (FROM TOP TO BOTTOM): The Little Troll, The Creep King, Codex of Histories, Red Horizons, Orcs are Coming, Bleeding Sun, Friendly Fire, Expulsion
And The Ghoul's Diary (Far to long to add to a post)
The Little Troll
Once upon a time there was a cute little Troll kid called Va'Voo. He lived in a big forest where lots of bunnies, deers and squirels roamed, He liked bunnies, they were his favorite dish.
One day he was walking through the forest in search of cute little tasty bunnies, then suddenly he spotted one, it was nice and fat, and cute too, just the way he liked them. He crept near, and dashed towards he bunny. But the bunny had seen him and sprinted off. Va'Voo chased and chased, after a few miles the bunny was cornered. Va'Voo grabbed the bunny by it's ears and looked at it. The bunny looked back, it looked back with it's cute big round eyes, and Va'Voo noticed how cute and fluffy the bunny was, then the smiled at the cute little fluffy bunny, and wacked it against a tree, then he ate the bunny wich untill recently was really cute. Suddenly there stood an ogre right in front of him, he didn't look very friendly. He had a grumpy look on his face and a spiky club in his hand. The ogre said: "You, intruder, this forest belong to me and my friends, I must smash!! wait! What if Biv says no smash? Me take you to Biv and me ask him." The ogre picked up the little troll and headed back to the encampment he came from. when the orge arived with Va'Voo he was dropped on to the ground, there were two other ogres, Va'Voo figured one of them was Biv. One ogre asked: "what this? breakfast?" The ogre that kidnapped Va'Voo answered: "No, he intruder, me want to smash, but Biv may want intruder alive." Then the biggest ogre asked Va'Voo: "who you?" and Va'Voo replied: "I'm Va'Voo the little forest troll" "Biv say smash!" said the biggest ogre. The other two ogres raised their weapons, but Va'Voo was too fast for them, he had allready gotten behind one of them. Biv made a swing with his club, he missed Va'Voo and hit one of the other ogre's in his head, killing him instantly. Va'Voo had climbed on his kidnapper and tried to twist his neck, but he was way too big for Va'Voo. The kidnapper noticed Va'Voo was standing on his head and tried to kill him, and again Va'Voo was too agile and fast for the clumsy ogres, before he knew what was going on he had hit himself in the head with deadly accuracy. Now only Biv was left of the three ogres. Va'Voo grabbed on of the now available clubs and swinged it against Biv's legs, Biv fell on his belly almost squishing Va'Voo. Now Biv was on the ground Va'Voo took the opportuinty to hit Biv in the head as hard as he could, imbedding the club in his skull. Va'Voo looked at the three dead ogres, they were no match for the tiny troll. Va'Voo whent home and lived happily ever after.
- Submitted by Olofmoleman
The Creep King
Once upon a time in a land called Azeroth, back far in the old days, when metals were being found, man was fighting a struggling battle against the creep kingdoms of the World of Warcraft. There were Ogres, and Gnolls, Dragons and Trolls, Beasts and Wolves, and almost every kingdom there could be. But were these creeps working together? The answer? NO! Each creep kingdom wanted to rule, but as well known, only one creep kingdom could rule. So a meeting was taken up. Which creep kingdom should rule? Dragons of old? Wise elementals? Cunning wolves? No one could agree, so each kingdom went into exhile and all was followed by the great Scourge. In the end, Illidan was severly injured, leaving the Naga and Blood Elves at a desperate state. The humans once again ruled the land, but again, the creep kingdoms decided that now was the time to attack, since the humans were weak from their battles of the undead. So each creep army prepares its war machines, and sharpens its blades, for the final battle, is about to begin...
- Submitted by darc Chief
Codex of Histories
-Halicus of Taboth-
Chapter 1 – Onerous Aberration
This is the cumulative research and chronicles of Halictus of Taboth, myself. I have produced these works in hope of reserving from decay the remembrance of man's deeds, and of preventing the great and admirable actions of Terra and the Psione from losing their condign glory; and withal to put on record what were their grounds of dispute, causes of downfall, and the consequences of discovering the Wraith.
According to Psione best informed in history, the colonies of Terra began to quarrel following the death of the last grand-potentate. Our people, who had formerly dwelt on the planet of Ranc'Uir of the beta segmentum, having migrated to the Mu segmenta and settled on the planet which we now inhabit, Taboth, began at once, they say, to adventure on unfathomable voyages, freighting vessels with the wares of Taboth and Ranc'Uir to new horizons.
We discovered many places in our galaxy, and other places. Here we exposed perhaps the greatest discovery of our race, our stigma, our abolition. Upon new worlds, we shared technologies and traded with the natives for many years; at the end of
which time, when almost everything was exhausted, a number of inhabitants embarked our vessels, returning to Ranc'Uir to receive Psione tuition and discipline at the temples in aspiration of greater understanding between species.
On a discontented Terra, this simple process was mistaken as an exchange. The humans abducted a number of Psione in response to our system (Although I believe this was more an attempt to emulate our philosophy): and thus commenced the series of outrages.
At a later period, a cabal of Psione, with whose name I am unacquainted, but who would probably be the Quondam Paladi, made a transit to Terra and attempted to resolve the error. Of this they only retaliated; but afterwards the Terrans, they say, were guilty of a second violence. They manned vessels of war, and travelled to sacred Ranc'Uir, sacking the temple-moon of Iaaico in search for their kind.
Taboth sent proclamations, demanding reparation of the wrong, and the restitution of Ranc'Uir; but the Terrans gave reply that, having received no requital for the wrong dealt to them following the misunderstanding, they should give none in this instance.
In the next generation, T’su, a human overseer, bearing these events in mind, resolved to procure himself a Psione subject out of Ranc'uir by violence. Accordingly he made prize of Devout Veius; upon which Psione authorities decided that, before resorting to other measures, they would send envoys to reclaim the prisoner and require atonement for the offence.
Their demands were met by a reference to the violence which had occurred on Terra.
Until this time the injuries on either side had been mere acts of common violence; but in what followed the Terrans consider that the Psione were greatly to blame, since before any humans were taken back to Taboth, the Psione had allured countless other species. Terrans deemed the appropriation of natives, as the deed of an abducter. Psione (perhaps in our arrogance) felt the process was benign, not malignant.
- Submitted by Whitehorn
Jelaine, last child of the Kun Family was left behind when drought came in. A royal family with social bonds far stretched sacrificed their youngest , abandoning in the house that became a ruin not long after they left. Not a goodbye, only a harsh ride out of the view of the little, 6 year old child. A destination unknown....a richer and more exotic world for them...
Tainted as the landscape Jelaine fitted well...except he was a human, not a sandpebble...filled with emotions, not knowing what they meant
His early pet, a desert cat was his only help. He loved it intensely. Years passed and the apathy for other beings other than his fellow pet grew while he was unaware of it, all alone in the ruinic house and its its cellars filled with preserved food. Jelaine was a very thin boy because of it..but he would care about it more. Hunting and collecting food became second nature as he grew and wandered the bare landscape....he left the familiar house. His old-growing companion mostly ran ahead, scouting and enjoying the glanzes of the sun swirling as little dots on the dunes they crossed. But not the beauty he longed for, the beauty he knew of when his family was still around him .It took him and he began to create his own idea about what the world was like.....A glittering red plain with nothing more than a new and dissapoiting look at a red horizon time after time. The dunes were immense and so were their valleys..
The day he stumbled on a poor old man showed what he turned into ...a vengeful youngster, apathic to human beings. In a rage he stabbed the nomad to the ground ... and with the tasted of more he travelled to a more civilized part, where is coming was only a beginning....a revenge he payed with people's blood..even redder than the glittering dots he saw year by year....
-Submitted by Warnicro
Prelude: The Curse
50 years ago, the pirate known as Azrael, was sailing through one of the many oceans of the world.
Among these uncharted areas only discovered by him and his crew ,there was one place Azrael regrets ever finding.
It was a normal day like any other. The sails were blowing in the wind, the fresh smell of
the ocean spray, it was the captain's favorite kind of day. After a few moments of sailing toward enless waters,
a voice called out "LAND HO!". Azrael walked up to the front of his mighty ship, his first
mate steering the wheel. Azrael watched as he and his crew, grew closer and closer to this unknown isle.
What seemed like hours later, they landed at the shores of the isle. Azrael (as always) was the one to take
the first step on land. As Azrael and his crew set-up camp for the night, a mysterious pair
of eyes were watching them. They slept unaware of this monstrosity. The next morning, Azrael and his crew
got up early to start scouting the isle for inhabitants.
Azrael had decided to walk down the middle of the isle,
walking past large trees, small creatures, and bugs, Eventually Azrael found himself in the most beautiful
part of the isle. The canopy, the small pond, and the eerie green glow from the trees above. Azrael's peacful
moment did not last long though. A creature that seemed to be made up of part woman, part fish appeared out of
nowhere. Azrael spoke, "O, you startled me. Who are you? And what are you?"
The strange creature stared at azrael as if staring deep into his soul. Then the creature spoke,
"Begone land-dweller, and never return.Heed my word or forever be cursed."
Azrael just stared and laughed
"HA Ha HA, What can you possibly do to me? Your nothing but a pitiful creature".
The strange creature became enraged at Azrael's mockery. She then started chanting in a low, creepy voice.
Azrael, feeling the creature to doing something to harm him
pulled out his sword, and as he felt threatened even more started running toward the beast at full
speed with his sword aimed at the beast's heart.
Before Azrael could strike the beast, he suddenly became paralyzed."What's happening? Why can't I move?" Azrael
screamed. Just a few seconds later, Azrael blacked-out, and did not wake for hours. While Azrael was unconsious,
the strange woman went around the isle, to where Azrael's crew was, and cast a spell upon them.
Chapter 1: The Monstrosity
Azrael jumped up in shock remembering his last sight, the sight of the creature and what she was doing. It donned on Azrael that he no longer had..feet or hands..he was inhuman. He let out a wail that would make the toughest warrior wince. He slid over to the small pond, looking at this disgusting form that had been brought upon him.
"Why!!!" he asked himself.
"I should have took heed to the creatures warning..now i'm hideous!!!" He whined to himself. He slapped the water in disgust, he decided it was time to head back.
Azrael went onward to the starting point of the journey whining the whole way there.
Wishing he had listened...and then..hatred. Hatred toward that fiend, that cursed him.
Azrael wanted his revenge on her or it, whatever it was.
Azrael entered his camp ground and to his horror, seeing the same fate upon them as on them. Only....they were all dead. Driven mad by the horrific curse they slaughtered each other. "Noo!!!" Azrael screamed in the devistating pain and fell to his knees weeping, until he heard someone say, "Cap'n? Is that you?"
"Who's there?" Azrael said in a pitiful voice as he stood up.
He noticed the figure of a strange creature, with several wounds and with features much like himself. "Who are you?" spoke Azrael.
"Jar"Ino, sir" said the creature.
"Ah, yes Jar'Ino, I remember..w-w-what happened here???"
"Well, you see... We started morphing into these strange things, and people started to freak out and then the former warriors began to kill the former workers
..and then it just became a bloody mess...I ran away and hid in the ship.
"I see," Azrael looked at what normaly would be where his feet were and then shuddered that he saw a slimy tail. Jar'Ino slid up to Azrael and said, "I think we need to leave."
"Yes, I know," replied Azrael.
"First let us seek out that beast that turned us!" Azrael said angrily.
"What beast?" said Jar"Ino.
"You see when I left this creature came upon me and told me to leave or she would curse me, and I laughed and she did what she said she would," said Azrael scared that Jar'Ino was about to turn on him.
"What!!?? You're the reason I'm like this!!??" Screamed Jar'Ino with rage, griping azrael by the throat.
"Ugh....You dare d-defile me!!!" Azrael boomed in a deep commanding voice. Jar'Ino fell down in shock. Azrael grabed a sword which lay at his feet from one of his slain men.
"Die!" Azrael swung the blade and sliced Jar'Ino on his neck, a fair blow but not devastating. Jar'Ino drew his blade and fought back....knowing this was life or death.
Jar'Ino thrust up at Azrael barely missing his gut. Azrael then decided enoguh was enough and swung with all his anger and landed a clean blow to Jar'Ino neck, completely decapitating him.
"You deserved this!" he spat at the corpse.
Then, he turned around and began to colect supplies for himself. He took only what he needed, which was: Food, Clean Water, and A Med Kit.
Azrael then took one last look at the camp, tears rolling and turned away and set off into the sun set..to find the creature.....
Chapter 2: The chosen One
Azrael began to walk through the wilderness, the jungle seemed like it would last forever. Finaly after many hours of walking he entered a clearing, a natural clearing. It had a beautiful stream and numerous wild flowers, vast in numbers.
Azrael stared in awe at the beauty of this sacred place. But, then he noticed the temple at the back, covered in vines and other such vegetation....it beared strange ruins and such. He made his way toward it.
"I see you're back, Azrael," said an unknown voice. Azrael recognized this voice and readied his blade.
"Show yourself enchantress!" called Azrael, a figure appeared and it was the vile creature.
She walked forth looking over her creation, and said "what a handsome creature you have become."
"Don't try and flatter me!" said Azrael as he backed away.
"Oh, someone is a bit touchy," fawned the creature.
"I am Akasha, high priestess of the royal naga race," said Akasha.
"Well I want you dead miss Akasha!" Azrael roared and thrust the blade up to akasha's throat. Akasha flinched.
"You would kill me? I warned you! But you would not listen so I kept my word, Azrael." Spoke Akasha bravely.
"How can I forgive such a terrible deed! You cursed my crew and they killed themselves from it!" yelled Azrael.
"You should have left!!" argued Akasha. She teleported to her former position, only a few steps away. She readied her weapon and yelled,
"Die, inferrior being!"
She charged at Azrael and he dodged her and struck her as she wizzed by.
"Gwaa!!! Tis be a flesh wound!" Akasha snapped.
"It will be more than that when I'm done with you!" Azrael called, swiftly racing for her blade ready.
She teleported behind Azrael and struck him hard, Azrael fell.
"Ugh...damn woman." he seized himself upward and began to swing rapidly at the vile woman. He caught her on the stomach and she began to panick.
"You can't win!' she bluffed. She summoned a bolt of thunder upon him. It stuned him for a few seconds. She ran and landed a critical blow to his arm.
"Arrggghhh!!!" he belowed out.
He got inraged and his eyes began to glow red....then his sword became engulfed in flames.
He ran up to her and stabbed the blade into her stomach, before she could react.
"Uhnnnnnn...urg..uh.You cannot defeat me!!!" Screamed Akasha and she disappeared into the wind.
"Dammit!!! NO!" screamed Azrael. Azrael reset his blade and walked up to the temple. He touched the cold wall.
A sharp pain entered him and blew him back 50 yards.
"Gwaaahahahaaaaaa" he yelled as he flew through the air.
"Ughhhhh" he landed with a loud thud and he heard a voice laugh.
Azrael then looked around for another way-he located a book, a tatered book of shadows. He walked up to it and began to read.
"The stone walls remain protected and no one may enter, only the brave soul of the chosen one may enter by using these words, 'I am the chosen, let thy be heard and forever remembered, Open your doors oh mighty one and let me pass the test, in the cloister of trials."
As azrael spoke the building began to glow a bluish color and slowly the doors opened....then inside were 2 statues and a door beside each. Then the books pages turned to another page and text began to light up, he read on, " to complete the tests you must choose the right statue, and the door will open choose the wrong one and the statue will come alive and kill you, unless of course you kill it. But, if you kill it you will have to start over switching every order of the statues. Good luck chosen one."
And thus Azrael entered the dark chamber...determined to complete the puzzle and kill the witch......
Chapter 3: Cloister of Trials
Azrael beared on into a large room, as he entered the dark chamber lit up to reveal the two statues he had saw a glimpse of when the building opened. One was older than the other and under each was a small lever. He walked up to the newer one and thought, "I be the older one is it, because if the creature had been realesed before then the statue would appear younger from the recent change in texture." He walked over to the odler statue's lever and placed his hands on it, he pulled with invigorating power. The lever dropped with a sudden twinge, that knocked Azrael back. The door opened to the next room.
It was much different than the previous room, it had four statues of old granite rock. Figures of elven warriors were all upon the walls, kind of like a story told through art.
"Hmmm... I bet I have to get 2 right this time," Azrael's voice drifted off.
He walked up to one of the statues, each one has the same basic appearance, but 2 had battle scars and missing pieces while the others remained perfect. In the center of the chamber was a book similiar to the one outside. Azrael opened it, to find a small map of the room with strange inscriptions. It had 2 circled and 2 x'ed out.
" I don't know if I can trust this."
Azrael walked over to a supposibly wrong statue and pulled the lever, it lit up. He walked over to a right one and pulled the lever, it lit up. Then the ground rumpled and the 2 lights clashed together to form a sort of human like figure. It started to form.... detail began to instensify....
It was a creature resembling the witch. "Who are you!" yelled Azrael.
"oh chosen one you have finaly come! I have waited centuries to see you!" spoke the creature.
"I am Izual, the guardian of the cloister of trials," spoke Izual.
"I am Azrael,the... I guess chosen one..did i get the puzzle right?"
"Yes, you did, and now I'll give u this spell so u can fight any demon that u may cross paths with," spoke Izual.
The room brightened and Azrael's blade began to glow a blue color.
-Submitted by player_72985
Orcs are Comming
Dammit, I woke up again. Why couldn't I just slip off into death? Something was holding me back in this world, I could feel it pulling. But what?
It only took a few minutes for me to get my answer.
Apparently Orcs were invading our great country. Well, great from most people's view (not mine). And of course, because of the orc's numbers, they needed the militia.
It seemed like a different lifetime when I was general of the militia. All those years ago, one small mess-up, and I was out of the military for good. I believe that it was then that I started wanting to die. My life had no meaning. But maybe I was being given a second chance?
I ran outside to meet the soldiers. They were handing out the forms for men to come to the training camps. A soldier caught my eye. He was my captain in the last war. I wonder what he was doing here?
Again, I didn't have to wait long for my answer. My old captain, Hever was his name, approached me.
"Nice to see you again, Nevra. Have you been feeling well?" he said. He sounded like he was being nice, very unlike Hever. He was as cold as the frost on your nose in winter.
"I didn’t die today, so no I'm not feeling well." That startled him. Now I just had to get to the point. "What do you want?" I asked.
"I see you haven't changed. Well, all the better. You've been given a personal request. To be general again," he replied.
"What the hell would the King want with a washed-out, land-losing, retired general like me?"
"He wants your help. He knows you’re the best, and personally, I agree."
I thought about it for a moment. Last time I got caught up in a war, I had been the scapegoat for the King's bad decision. I didn't want to be that again. But, the military would give me something to do, and maybe I would even die before the King could blame me again.
"What's the pay?" I asked. It didn't really matter to me though; I had made up my mind.
"Double since you were last general."
Double! Now we were talking. The pay last time was very nice, I guessed that this was the way of the King saying sorry. Typical for a king.
"Well in that case, I'll take the job, Captain."
"Oh, I'm a general also. You and I will manage the militia forces, together.
Well, I guess this was for political reasons. People would be wondering why a general like me could lead an army by himself, with no supervision.
"Seems like a few things have changed. Oh well, as long as we're clear on one thing, General."
"What would that be?"
"You still listen to me."
He thought about that for a moment. It probably troubled him, but I didn't care.
"Agreed. After all, you are one of the best."
"That I am. So what's the situation?"
"Orcs are coming."
When I heard that Orcs were invading again, I got ready to leave. My sister was asking me why, and I didn't really say. I just said that it was my business. I couldn't tell her the truth, she wouldn't let me go.
It was after our parents died that my older sister decided that she was the boss. We lived in a small village, far from the capital, and we didn't have many neighbors, so it was just my older sister and I.
That was one of the reasons I wanted to leave. I wanted to see more of the world, and see people other than my sister. But, that wasn't the only reason.
The true reason was because my father had been a famous captain. He had never lost a battle. Until one fateful day, when an assassin beat him in the battle for his life.
Our mother had died in childbirth, giving birth to me. My father never talked about her, and neither does my sister. In fact, we don't talk about our parents at all.
When I realized that the recruiting soldiers were never coming to our town, I grabbed my stuff, and started for the door. My sister stopped me before I could walk out.
"And just where do you think your going?" she asked.
"Off to join the militia, and become a captain, just like our father."
She was shocked to hear that. A long silence set in. I started for the door once more, but she broke in after the first step.
"Beran... I don't want you dying like our father..."
"I won't. I promise that I'll come back. But I have to go, Seria. It's just something I have to do."
"I knew this day would come," she murmured. She paused and then said, "You keep your promise, or I will never forgive you."
"Take care, Beran."
And then, I finally walked out the door.
It was a long journey to the capital, and I didn't have much to go on. But my father trained me well. Not just about being a captain, and how to use a sword. But also how to survive in the forest. So I survived.
When I got there, I asked around about where to sign up for the army. Finally someone told me that the sign up was in front of the castle main gate, so that’s where I headed. When I got there, I saw only a few people in line. Finally, it was my turn.
“Name and age please,” the lady at the counter said.
“Beran Novum, seventeen years old,” I replied.
“Novum? Are you the son of Teral Novum?”
“Uh, yes I am. Did you know him?”
“Everyone in the kingdom knows him. Well, anyways, you are qualified to take part in the militia. Here is where you will go for training.” She handed me a piece of paper, and I went off.
So, orcs were coming.
Just another day in the life for me, Hester Darkritch. Another batch of young, inexperienced fools that think war is all roses that I had to train. Well, at least I could hope for a good general.
And just as I was thinking, the general rode in. Once he was off his horse and I saw his face, I nearly gasped.
“General Nevra Fieldmont. Nice to see you again,” I said instead.
“Don’t give me that, Hester. We both know the situation. Let’s just get one thing clear, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but war is what I do best. So lets just get the training over with.”
“How many have arrived?”
“Close to three hundred men, sir, and more still coming.”
“Well, looks like numbers have gone down.”
“Oh no sir, there are more in General Hever Backroot’s half of the militia.”
“They split up the training? Well, that means that we must have more numbers than last time. Good.”
I saw a pack of horses in the distance. I knew what that meant.
“Ah yes, here come more recruits now sir.”
“Well, I’ll let you deal with them Hester. I will go survey the camp.”
By the time Hester arrived at the check in, the new recruits were almost already accounted for. So, I looked over the list. And then I heard something peculiar.
I was shocked. Could it be…?
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Beran Novum, sir. That’s my name.”
“Are you the son of Captain Teral?”
“Well, very good, proceed.”
Indeed, it was very good. It looked to me as if the militia had a captain-in-making. This might not be such a boring day after all.
Training began immediately. It was very hard, even compared to the labors of a farmer. It was like the general was expecting to have orcs upon us any day, and every day was crucial, life-saving. Today we were learning tactics instead of having a break. Well, at least we got to sit down.
General Fieldmont was hardly around for the training. He was always doing something, and only came to the training to see how Darkritch was doing. He looked like a ghost, living out his past over and over. His weary, sagged eyes screamed of experience, and ...something else. Like he was only here because he thought this would be the end of him.
Our Training Captain, Hester Darkritch, was the only one that seemed to like his job. Maybe that was because he got to stay safe, while the ones he trained got to go and give up their lives. Or maybe it was because someone he trusted was here.
That put aside, Training Captain Darkritch was extremely good at his job. After all of the sword training groups, I was beginning to use my sword without thinking. It became more like, a part of me, than any thing else. It was like using a sword was a gift I had inside of me all along.
"And that is how you counter a full-on attack. Good, class dismissed," said Hester. Class was over, and night was only one hour away. I was starving, I realized. Dinner would be good tonight.
"Beram Novum," said an all-too familiar voice. I turned around to see General Fieldmont standing behind me.
"Yes sir, what can I do for you sir?"
"Come with me."
I followed him to a tent that was large enough to fit twenty men. I realized this was the general's tent.
When we got inside, I noticed that he had quite a few more luxuries than that of an ordinary soldier. A writing desk, a very comfortable looking chair, and a few shelves of books.
"I did not summon you hear so you could gape at my tent. Sit down, Beran." I did so.
"How old were you when your father died?"
"About six, sir."
"Did you know him very well?"
"Not really, sir. But my sister told me a lot about him."
"I see, well young Beram, I have a gift for you."
"A gift, sir?"
"Yes, a gift. This."
He brought out a sword from behind his desk. It was a very beautiful sword, there was gold engraving on it, and the sword itself was made of the finest steel.
"Do you know what this is?"
"This was your father's sword. He used it in every battle. It was recovered after he died. It belongs to you, now. I think you are ready to use it."
I was stunned, for two reasons. The first, at my father's sword, but the second, was how did the general know my skills when I hardly saw him around?
As if reading my mind, the general said, "Hester gives me reports every day. He is very impressed with you. You are ready to wield this sword, Beram."
"Thank you very much, sir."
"You are quite welcome. Now, go and get some food, then some rest. You have another hard day ahead of you."
As I walked out of the tent, my mind was focused on my father. The little I could remember of him was... well, little. But I do remember him as strong, and tough. My sister told me he was also very wise, and respected. At that moment, I knew I wanted to be just like him.
My stomach gurgled. I had forgotten how hungry I was. I ran to get my dinner.
After the boy Beram had left, I sat down on my very comfortable chair. The cushions for these general chairs had improved since I was last general. Of course, it had been quite a few years since that disaster had happened.
It was a morning I would never forget, could not forget. It was the reason I became so cold and angry.
The bright sun shone off of my breastplate. Orcs were coming our way, and if we beat them here, it would end the war. My plan assured us of victory. But somehow, it went horribly wrong.
It was as if they anticipated our every move, new every strategy before it ever happened. We lost the battle, with many casualties. I ordered a retreat.
When we got back to camp, I told my men my plan. I said it was impossible for the few of us surviving to stand up to the might of that army. So I told my men to warn every village to flee for their lives to the safety of the capital. I was going straight for the capital, to warn the king.
In the end, our plan succeeded. Most of the villager’s lives were spared. There were only a few maniacs who thought they could hold of an army with a pitchfork.
From then on, I was a disgrace. I had run for my life, and worse, lost valuable land. But they didn't see the other side to it. I had also saved many villagers’ lives, and the lives of my surviving men. But they never see it the way they should. So I was forced into retiring, and spent my days on a farm away from the capital. Well, until orcs attacked again.
My thoughts were interrupted rather rudely. A soldier burst into my tent.
"Sir! There were orcs sighted only fifteen miles from here!" exclaimed the soldier.
I knew this day would come. I just wish it didn't have to be so soon.
"Gather the men. Wake them up with the horns if you must. Just get them ready."
I walked out of my tent. I had to do something before the orcs came.
Training these men was not proving difficult. Most seemed ready, some even willing. But there were always those who would rather not be here. Those were the men I did not like.
However, not many of those were in this training camp. They seemed to have gone to the other militia training force. That suited Hester Darkritch quite nicely.
However, even with all the training in the world, nothing could have prepared him for what happened this night. The general came to his tent.
"Hester, the orcs have been spotted fifteen miles from here."
"Really? They have come so soon? Well, you must get ready, sir."
"I am. Hester, I want you to be the first Captain of the militia force."
I was in complete shock. I couldn't work my mouth anymore. Maybe, because there was nothing I could say.
"You have the qualifications. You know strategies and tactics inside and out, you know all of the men very well. Hester, I need you to be Captain. Will you lead these men?"
I thought about it for a moment. Leading these men. Maybe to their deaths. But I could also become famous, maybe even get promoted further. And that would mean more pay. But, it was also my dream. To become a great Captain. I decided to do it.
"Good. Put these garments on, and hurry. We must prepare for the attack."
"I'll see you soon, Captain."
Captain Hester Darkritch. I liked the sound of that.
We had one day to prepare before the orcs arrived at our training camp. In that one day, we had to make it a fortress. It wasn’t easy.
As just another soldier, I had to help out with the creation of the fortress. Which was to say, I put large pikes in the ground around the training camp.
The work was endless. Dig hole. Put pike in hole. Fill hole. My shift ended a little after lunchtime, and I was ready to collapse. Partly from hunger, partly from exhaustion.
And then, they came.
It was like a solid block of orcs, the scouts said they numbered almost five hundred, which meant they outnumbered us at least by a hundred. The toughest part of the day was yet to come.
As I sat down to eat my lunch, the final preparations were made. Afterward, the orcs came almost in bowshot. They had had a hard day of marching, and were weary, so they decided to rest, and tomorrow would be the battle. Tomorrow decided many things.
I walked over to the general’s tent to see if I was to be given any more instructions. I wasn’t going there to see the general. The captain, Darkritch hung out there, and he gave the soldiers the orders.
From now on, we were soldiers. Or at least, that was what the general had said in his speech this morning…
“Men, we are all in this together. From now on, we are all soldiers in this war. We must stand together, or we will fall. We must remain undeterred in the hardships that I guarantee you will come. We must remain strong.”
That part really stuck out to me. I guess it was because that might well be my death wish.
When I got to the general’s tent, I walked in and automatically saluted.
“Sir, ready for more orders, sir,” I said.
“Ah yes, Beran Novum, you have no further orders. None of the men do. We must keep up our strength, so rest long and well. Tomorrow you will need it.”
I walked out of the general’s tent, and headed for my own. It was time to go easy, though I would still spend the remainder of the day practicing with my sword. After all, tomorrow would be the fight for my life.
“Quite mature for such a young age, don’t you think?” I said.
“Yes, quite. Now, back to what I was saying,” said the general.
What he was saying were his battle plans. Right now, we were out numbered, and out matched, but we had the fortress. And quite a few good archers.
“We need some kind of wall, to give the archers some height advantage,” said the general.
“Well, we could start building right away-”
“No, it would take too long. We need a quick fix. Something that will do for the time being.”
“What about those tanks? They won’t be any help in the defense, and they are quite large.”
“Brilliant! Yes, have platforms made on top of them, and get them behind the wall right away.”
As I walked out, I was searching for names in my head to use for the project. Working my way towards the soldier’s tents, I searched for the men I intended to use. This was going to be a long day.
As Hester left, my mind wandered for a moment. I started to think about Beram’s father. I started to think about the day he died… It was a day I remembered well. I lost my best captain that day.
It was an ordinary procedure. The plan was to lure them in, and then flank them with the cavalry. But my opponent was very well trained. He saw it coming, and killed my cavalry before they could strike. That is where Teral Novum lost his life.
Well, it was no good dwelling on the past. Besides, there was an attack to deal with, here and now. Learn from your mistakes, and never repeat them. That day I learned to never underestimate my opponent. Ever.
Trying to get my mind off of old times, I looked over my battle plans once more. They seemed sound enough. The main objective was to secure the “fortress” so we could later lead an attack, when we were ready and training was complete. The way we would do this was to let them come at us, and let the riflemen have their way with the targets. They would aim for any ranged orcs first, then target the grunts. If all went according to plan, the orcs would be dead before they reached us.
Most generals would storm out, looking for a fight. However, with our current situation concerning experience, this was not optional. A victory today would be living to see tomorrow.
An old general once said “Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst,” So I prepared a backup plan incase they did manage to break through. This was all too possible. So, for this possibility, I had arranged to have the main militia force standby at the gate. The orcs would meet our full force if they tried to break through.
One of my sayings was, “the simplest plans succeed the most.” And so, I made a simple plan. The orcs would not find a weakness, and if they did, I prepared to station minor groups of militia all around the camp. They could hold the orcs off until the main force arrived.
This would be a long day. If the opposing general was smart, he wouldn’t attack today. He would simply wait to find a weakness, then come up with a plan to exploit it.
Now the rest of my time was consumed thinking about counter-actions to exploits…
Last edited by KingGigli : 01-27-2006 at 12:41 PM.
"Is this a dream or is this real "
"I can see death everywhere, I see the dead killing the living!"
"What's happening? Why is there blood everywhere"
"Father, father where are you!"
"The village needs you, where are you father?!"
"Help save the village! FATHER!"
Azunai suddenly wakes from the nightmarish hell. The same nightmare which he's had since he was a child, the same one as the day his father left the village. Still gasping for air, he hears a knock on the door and wonders who it could be this early in the morning.
He looks out of the window and sees it's his old friend Garet, then he remembers that Garet mentioned something about going hunting the previous day. Before he could get down the stairs to open the door, he heard the door swing open, with Garet inviting himself in, like always.
"You ready to go?" asked Garet.
Azunai was quite surprised, because this was the first time Garet was early for anything his entire life. But this was also Garet's first time going hunting. Azunai felt tremendously sorry for Garet, Azunai must've been the only friend Garet has ever known. People always stayed away from him, maybe it's because his father was a drunkard who owed a lot of money to a lot of people, and his mother is the local whore at the tavern. Garet always just smiled but Azunai knew his true feelings. Azunai thought himself more of a brother than a friend to Garet… Then his thoughts were erupted by Garet's voice.
"Day dreaming again?"
"You're thinking about your father again, right?"
Azunai smiled and said
"Yes, how did you know?"
Garet scratched his head and said
"Well that's about all you think of, how long has he been gone?"
"I'm sure he'll come back soon, but more importantly.... We've still got some hunting to do, right?"
All Azunai could do was nod.
He then looked at Garet and started laughing.
"What's so funny??" Garet asked.
"Well you Garet, we're going hunting not Dragon slaying."
"What do you mean?" Garet asked again.
"Well that sword, it's almost as big as you are, you won't be able to chase a deer with that." said Azunai, still in deep laughter.
“You never know what might show up!"
With his laughter a bit calmer, Azunai said
"Well certainly not a Dragon. Come on let's go, we do want to get back before darkness, Dragon Slayer Garet."
Garet just grunted.
Soon after that they left the village going through Elwynn forest.
Azunai knew the path to the hunting grounds was a long and hard one.
They traveled for hours, enjoying the sunlight on their faces and humming
a song they learned from Azunai's father before he left.
Garet then stopped and fell to his knees, he put his hands over his face and started to cry.
Azunai ran to Garet and asked him what was wrong.
"Why, why was your father so kind to me, and why are you being so kind to me?"
Azunai lifted Garet and said
"Do I need a reason to be kind to my brother?"
"Thank you…" Garet said.
That was the first time Garet had said those words to anyone.
Azunai only smiled and said
"No, thank you, if you weren't there, then I wouldn't have had any family left."
Garet then lifted his sword and answered
"I swear to you, I'll protect you with this sword and with my life"
Azunai looked surprised and asked
"Where did that come from?"
Before Garet could give an answer a dark shadow ran past them.
"Who's there?!” Azunai yelled.
Cautiously they started to walk forward again.
The shadow kept on creeping through the woods.
Then they heard the moaning of a deer in pain.
They moved toward the sound. Then what appeared before their eyes was unbelievable, a creature like none they've seen before was tearing the deer into pieces, and it was consuming the deer alive! Before they could run away, the beast turned to them and growled. It looked like it was something from the grave; Azunai panicked and drew his dagger he had with him. He ran towards the beast and struck it with every ounce of strength he had and pierced through the beast's eye.
The beast let out a terrifying growl, and smashed its claws into Azunai. The leather suit Azunai was wearing didn't offer much protection, but it was able to prevent a fatal blow to Azunai's chest. Azunai was knocked out and he fell unconscious. When he woke again, all he could see was blood all over the tree barks. Garet was sitting next to him with the creature's head in his hands.
"Told you it would come in handy…"
Still shocked at the sight Azunai was seeing, he asked
"What the?! "
"I told you the sword would come in handy."
"You ask how, I don't even know myself, the creature was busy beating me senseless then suddenly I flew into an uncontrollable rage… I kept on slashing and hacking until nothing remained but its head, you awoke minutes later.”
"What should we do now, it's getting dark."
"Let's get back to the village before more of those things come."
Without wasting any time, they ran like never before. Gasping for breath at each turn, but the growling of more creatures could be heard right behind them.
As they ran over a hill near the village, they could see smoke.
"What… what's going on?!" Garet yelled.
"How should I know?! We better hurry!"
Azunai could smell death in the air. As they neared the village, they heard the screams of women and children yelling for help, they could hear the terrifying sounds of the creatures ripping the men apart.
" This, this looks exactly like my dream! Blood is everywhere, we must help!"
"Why should we?!" Garet yelled.
"WHY?! Garet have you lost your mind?! They need as many men as possible; you know how strong those things are!"
"That's exactly why I don't want to go! I was barely able to kill one! And look, there must be hundreds! They're getting what they deserve, remember what the village has done to me…"
Azunai didn't reply with words but with a fist.
Before Garet could say anything, Azunai was already dashing off towards the village.
"Fool!” Garet yelled, running off after Azunai.
"Everything's falling apart, I can't let my dream come true!"
"The village must survive, I can't let them die!!"
As Azunai entered the village, he could see bodies everywhere, pinned down on each other, bodies against the walls and the buildings. He couldn't hear any more fighting, only the growling of the creatures that remained, but that was also starting to fade into the darkness. Amongst the flames, the figures of two beings remained. One was a large man, the other that of an elderly man. He ran closer to confront them, but what he saw he could not believe.
"Father, father is that really you?!" Azunai cried out from the flames.
The elderly man said in a grinning manner.
"We've found him."
"Yes" replied Azunai's father.
"Father, there were monsters everywhere, they killed everyone, if we move quickly we might still be able to avenge them!"
"Lord Keldar, we have no time for this, finish it quickly!"
With no hesitation, Keldar raised his sword, and swung it towards Azunai.
But then another sword blocked his and swung it back at him.
"Garet, it's good to see you're well, you could've lived if you stayed away."
Garet yelled "WHY!?"
Azunai was lying on the ground, with despair in his eyes.
"I have no time for this, Knel'Azur finish them off quickly, I await your return at Nostros Keep" said Keldar, and vanished within a second.
"Flee now boy, and you may yet live, leave this one to be slaughtered."
"NO!!" yelled Garet with anger in his voice.
"Oh you're willing to fight for this one, then come at me with everything you've got!"
Garet screamed out in anger and gave a blow that shook the ground itself.
"You've got more power then it seems, why not join us?"
"NEVER!!" Garet yelled again and flew into another rampage, his blows kept on striking the old man, but no blood was coming out.
"You may be strong, but my magic is stronger!"
The elderly man grinned and picked up his staff, he chanted something in another language, Garet kept on attacking with no end, but still the old man grinned. After completing his chant, the sky started to rumble and lightning flared across the entire village.
“Now you DIE!" Yelled the elderly man.
The souls of the dead could be seen coming out of their bodies; they started to take up a new form in front of the elderly man. The souls transformed into something unholy that shot towards Garet; it was so fast that Garet couldn't dodge. It caught him in the chest, causing blood to gush out of Garet.
All that Azunai could do was sit and watch his best friend getting slaughtered.
He cried out " Why father, why?!" Then Garet’s sword attained a certain magical glow, it flew out of Garet’s hands and into Azunai's. Before the old man could recite another chant, Azunai ran his blade through the old man, instead of grinning the old man howled in pain. Then the howl was silenced when Azunai chopped his head off with one steady stroke and ran towards Garet.
"Garet, Garet, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry this is all my fault!" Azunai cried.
"No it's not, I vouched to protect you with my life."
"The sword is now yours, take it, it was a gift from your father to me."
"But it seems… I was never… its rightful… owner…" Those were Garet’s last words.
Azunai stood up with this weapon in his hands, and cried until the tears were no more. He picked up his dead friend and buried him near a river, and vouched in turn that he would give his life to avenge him.
After weeks of traveling, Azunai made it to Stormwind Keep; it's here where his destiny will be forged.
To be continued…
-Submited by Dark Paladin
Five men were taking shelter in the ruins of what used to be a bunker. The ceiling was caved in, and cement slabs with steel supports sticking out were everywhere. The men were the only survivors in what was a huge battle against a swarm of crazed aliens, also known as the zerg. The bunker was located at the bottom of a hill, which was the same hill that the alien forces swarmed over. Most of the hill was covered with alien carcasses, most of which had guts hanging out. Ammo was in no short supply; dead troops were everywhere.
Marty, Stanley, Rick, and Steven were standard marines armed gauss rifles, and were protected with heavy armor. The most valued one of them all was Mark, who operated a flamethrower. The flamethrower was a very effective weapon, as it could hit multiple targets at one time and could penetrate trough alien carapaces easier than bullets.
All five men were resting in the center of the rubble, until they heard a hissing noise from the top of the hill.
“The damn zerg are still here,” muttered Stanley as the soldiers crept up to the side of the bunker, and aimed their guns.
A loose piece of cement fell from its position on the bunker. The loud noise it made when it hit the ground triggered one of the creatures to scream and come charging at the bunker.
“It spotted us. Shoot the ling before it gets close!” yelled Steven.
Simultaneously, the troops fired their guns at the zergling. Blood splattered everywhere, as the bullets ripped through the dark, spiny skin of the creature. With a piercing cry from the zergling, it fell to the ground dead, with bullet holes all over it. Three more of the creatures heard the screech of their comrade, and came rushing down the hill.
With great accuracy, the troops shot down one of the aliens. The other two seemed unstoppable, until they came in range of Mark’s flamethrower. The powerful flames engulfed one of the lings, but to Marty’s horror, one of them dodged the flame and headed straight towards him. The zergling leaped up above the ruined wall, and dug its claws through the front of Marty’s armor.
“Marty!” Rick shouted as he poured bullets into the creature. The bullets ripped through the zerglings flesh, killing it before it could inflict another blow. It was too late; Marty’s wounds were way to deep for him to be alive, with blood rapidly gushing out from them.
“Call for air support!” Mark shouted as he showered another creature with flames. “They just don’t stop coming!”
Steven grabbed the radio equipment and quickly demanded for air support. As he was telling them the coordinates of the hill, he had to drop the radio, and pick up his gun. The ground was shaking underneath him as he tried to reload his gun. The ground started to split open, and he kept fumbling around the cartridge in his hands.
A monstrous, spiny creature burst out from the earth with its two large claws swinging away. Steven stared right into the glowing orange eyes of the creature, as it impaled him with a large spike. Mark watched in horror as the alien dangled Steven‘s body in the air, flinging guts everywhere.
“Kill the damn lurker, Mark!” Stanley shouted.
Mark pulled the trigger on his weapon, and fried the lurker, as well as the remains of Steven. The remains of the charred creature fell on its back, which distracted Stanley. A zergling dashed up behind him and dug a claw into his lower back. Stanley looked down at his stomach, and could see the zergling’s claw and his guts hanging out. He then pulled out a hand grenade, as the zergling raised its second claw.
“Good bye,” Stanley whispered.
Stanley pulled the pin and released the lever on the grenade. He had detonated the grenade in his own hands. The blast killed himself, and the creature attacking him. Shrapnel and debris were thrown everywhere, which knocked down the two remaining humans. Stanley and the zergling laid in pieces scattered around the ground.
There was one remaining alien. Known as the hydralisk, it was a much bigger and stronger creature than the zerglings. The top half of it was spiny, and had a shell like skin on it, while the bottom half resembled a long tail. While laying on the ground, Rick laid fire upon the beast as it slithered down the hill. Mark knew what had to be done. He got up, and ran out to met the creature. Before Mark could unleash flames upon it, the hydralisk turned its head and hurled acid over the man’s gas tank. The acid burned through the tank, and caused a chain reaction with the gas. Both Mark and the monster were killed instantly, as they were swallowed in a ball of flame. All that was left of the hydralisk was a burning exoskeleton.
Rick was the only survivor of the battle. His armor was covered with blood, but to his surprise, it was not his own. Still shocked that he was still alive, he got up and ran on to the hill. His fellow troops fought for the land, so he thought it was his duty to claim it. Once he reached the top, he glanced up into the sky. It was the last time he would see daylight.
Dozens of airships released their load of missiles onto the hill. Every square inch of the hill had to be blown apart to insure the enemies were dead. They were right on target, but just a tad too late.
-Submitted by Timmay
Last edited by KingGigli : 01-23-2006 at 10:25 PM.
You could make it so instead of "hidden information", it says the title and author of the story. Just so if someone is looking for a specific story they don't have to click through all the hidden parts.
NOTE: This story is subject to more chapters, keep updated!
"Father, I had another nightmare." says a young boy as he tugs upon the sheets of the bed of an elder man.
"Tell me boy, what did you see?" said the man as he rose slightly from the bed.
"Father what is wrong, you sound... More afraid than me."
"Hurry now, tell me what you saw."
"Yes, sorry father. It is hard to explain but... I saw at first only black, then I saw a figure step through the black... Glowing white, piercing my eyes with bright, it felt real. More real than now. Yet even though the figure was so bright, it seemed to give off no light to the area around it and myself. It moved towards me and struck its hand through my chest, then the dream became a mirror of itself. The colors flipped and the figure began to become visible but then I awoke, during this short time I felt a feeling undescribable. It seemed to hurt and soothed all at once." the boy nearly collapses onto his "father", hugging him in fear as he began to cry.
"I'm sorry father, I don't know why its so scary to think about. While I was dreaming it felt strange, but thinking back now it feels..." the boy looks in worry at his "father" now, and leans back slightly.
"Father?!" the boy cried as he looked at his "father" and saw light erupting from his chest and black flowing out and across the entirety of the room in a fabric-esque manner.
The world turned into the boys dream but he remained silent. The dream continued just as described, up until the figure struck its fist into the boy. Twisting it forced its way deep inside the boy, lifting him off the ground the figrure spoke in a deep yet far-away voice
"Your father squealed, he struggled and cried up until the moment he fell before me."
"I am not my father." the boy turned into a glowing green as he spread out into an organic shape he again began to find a humanoid form. When the transformation was over he appeared to have matured from childhood into adulthood, and he glew with a faint green.
"You... You are not like the others..."
"Yes, the others were your pray. And I am your downfall." the boy, now an adult exploded in energy... Blowing the opposing figure into nothingness, and bringing the room back into sight.
"It matters not what you were, nor what I was... It only matters that I have destroyed you, and that in history me and my master shall be the same. We shall both be known as Nexolde, we shall live far on in both my history and all those ahead of me."
"I Nexolde keep no record of time, but I know my time is slowly approaching. I have been searching the lands around me, and found that there is one with the divine heritage. No doubt his people will not just give him too me, and so I am prepared for any circumstance... My master had taught me everything he knew, and I plan on doing the same for my student." says a rugged looking man speaking to himself, around the age of 60, while he sharpens a long kris.
"Alright, enough time wasted. I must head out now while the night is still upon us." Nexolde stands up from an angled log he was sitting on and drops the rock he was sharpening his kris with, he pulls his hood over his head and begins running towards a faint light at the end of the forest he was in.
After a few minutes of running, Nexolde became obviously tired... He continued on until reaching the edge of the forest, but after which he took a quick rest on a rock.
"Hail traveler, are you alright?" says a single patrolling orcish gaurd, he walks towards Nexolde with a torch and a sword.
"I"m only in need of rest and a hard ale, where may I find an Inn?"
"I know what you mean... I can lead you to the Inn in town, come on." the gaurd replies laughing.
As the gaurd turns his back Nexolde reveals his dagger from under his robe, he points the tip of the blade towards the crack in armor between the gaurd's shoulder and his side. Nexolde steps closer behind the gaurd and pulls back his arm preparing to thrust his kris into the side of the gaurd, but as he pushed forward the gaurd turned around as if preparing to say something.
"What the?! You damned rogue!"
"Hush now Orc, do you want your whole town destroyed?"
"... You... you're trained in magics?"
"You will find out, if you alert your town of my presence... I am not here to waste my time, but I will remove everything in my way."
"I can't risk my people, you may pass... I shall forget of your arrival."
Nexolde drew his kris and lunged at the gaurd before the feeble-minded Orc could respond.
"And I can't risk myself."
He then approached the wall around the village, staying a safe distance away from the gate he stabbed his kris into the wooden wall and pull himself up onto it. After pulling his dagger out of the wall, he leaped from the wall to the nearest roof. he knew the town by heart and knew where he was... It was only a matter of time before he arrived at the house he needed to get too. Once there he slid off the roof , and landed on the floor aside the building.
Remaining perfectly silent Nexolde slowly stepped through an open slit in the building, then he went to the room holding the child he needed. He took the baby orc into his arms gently, keeping it asleep... And then proceeded to wrap it in cloth and place it in a large pouch hidden inside his cloak. After he had the child he rushed to the fireplace, no longer worrying of waking the child or the parents he pulled a small bag out of his cloak and pulled a strange dust out of it. Nexolde sprinkled the dust around the fireplace and on the wooden furniture near it, then he threw the bag at the fire... By now the parents had woken up and were coming to him, and the baby was crying, but he didn't care about that anymore.
As soon as the bag hit the flames a huge eruption engulfed the entire house, and from the burning rubble stepped out Nexolde and slipped away into the crowd of people gathering around the house before anyone had a chance to ask any questions.
Over the next 17 years, Nexolde raised the Orc... Not as a father, but as a teacher.
- Submitted by BloodStorm2262
SCARS FROM THE PAST
CHAPTER 1: BETRAYING THE ENEMY
- How far do you think is the corrupted outpost, Daliena?
- Our scouts say we’re near to the satyrs’ base. If we’re lucky enough, we will vanquish the brutes soon enough.
As one of the main rangers at the service of priestess Tyrande and her Sentinels, I was assigned to lead one of many incursions into Felwood. Another routine mission, as usual. But this time with company I wouldn't trust like any other group of night elves. Ghandral the Druid Lord and his own brotherhood; night elves I, personally, didn't rely on much. No matter what they did to prove their loyalty.
As we scouted the area through the corrupted forest, almost every creature we found fiercely attacked us. I wasn't worried about them. They were just badly confused or transformed by the dark magic present here and I was forced to personally slay many of them. I just hope Elune will receive them in her glory and find peace among the stars above the earth.
As we arrived into an open part of the grove, I had this strange feeling. As if many eyes from every side were watching us. An intense heat filled the air, like the breath of a raging dragon.
- I don’t like this place. Are you sure we haven’t been spotted? –asked Ghandral, worried.
I didn't answer because, suddenly, a loud thunder was heard above in the sky, followed by many others. It sounded like a huge volcanic eruption but when my sisters and I looked up, we watched one of the most dreadful sights ever. Green meteors began to rain from a giant fiery cloud above, crushing trees and everything in front of us. As the meteors crashed, the burning giants arose from the craters left by them and we quickly prepared for a greatly unbalanced battle. They were much more, but I didn't show any fear.
- It's a trap! -I shouted- STRIKE THEM!!! STRIKE!!!
The burning giants charged against us. My warriors were preparing to defend ourselves as I was aiming my bow, about to shoot, when Ghandral's hand stopped me from firing at the demons:
- We must pull back! We are no match for so many of them!
- What? -I knew it. He was still not worthy of trust- We won't leave the battlefield just like this! We must stand and fight!
- There are too many of them. We will never survive a battle like this!
- WE ARE BORN FIGHTERS! NOT COWARDS! MY SISTERS AND I WILL NOT BOW TO THE DEMONS PUPPETS!
- Do what you want but this is too risky for my brethren and me. Kaen'joren, torphalan rokh' theran.
Ghandral and his druids just turned back and fled from the battle. Just like that. As they ran, the demons were already bashing our forces with all their strength. Still enraged by the act of those "fellows", I just managed to shout at them. I didn't care how far they were now and they wouldn't hear my anger. I just wanted to scream it, just as I always wanted to... and so I did.
- MAY ELUNE CURSE YOU, TRAITORS! YOU WERE ONCE OUR ENEMIES AND YOU WILL ALWAYS BE!!!!
The last thing I remember was a great pain followed by lots of green fire. And then, just nothing.
- So they prefer to think for himself before the rest. They act much like us.
- Why shouldn't they? After all, they were once the closest among the Highborne. You know what I mean, don't you?
- I know, I know. We must inform Makialus about this! He will be pleased when hearing this.
- However, I prefer to see the elves been defeated and brutally slain.
- Agreed. Long ago I wanted to see them suffering the rage of the masters.
The two shadowdancers spoke between themselves from a dark corner and then disappeared in the woods, to enjoy the show and the elves' "performance".
As I walked through the woods I tried not to hear the sounds of the battle we fled from. Yet I couldn't help but to think about what I did... what we did, surprisingly, without any sign of actual regret:
I just can't believe what I was doing. Running instead of helping Daliena and her warriors? And I ordered my own brothers to do the same and they... they just followed me unquestionably! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? WHAT WAS I... WE THINKING? A selfish fear we never felt before simply dominate us with great ease. WE NEVER FEARD ANY FOE BEFORE! EVEN DEMONS! Does this have to do with our dark past? Is it possible our heritage might be surging once again? But... how?
SCARS FROM THE PAST
CHAPTER 2: CALLING OLD MEMBERS
- Excellent! –I exclaimed while overseeing my servants working- We must spread the corruption! At this rate we will extend our power everywhere! Keep it concocting!
"If everything goes as the master predicted, our domain will extend to Darkshore. Then to the night elven city and its great tree will fall to the burning masters. How much I've waited for this. Those cursed elves will slowly die in fire and darkness!!!"
Just then, Bakrial Shadowblade came to give me a report, bearing quite interesting news I, actually, was anxious to receive.
- Lord Makialus, –he said- a pair of shadowdancers spotted a fallen group of elves under the Legion's agents attack not so far from here.
- Just as Baspheroth foresaw it’d happen -I stared at him- Is that all? -suspecting what came next.
- Also, a group of druids fled from the battle in an act of desertion. I’ve been told they looked quite familiar.
- Those must have been Ghandral and his druids. Everyone around these lands, as you know, -I laughed viciously silent- have been told about what happened to them.
- What do we do with the elven traitors? Should I personally get them?
- Yes. Immediately go gather some warriors, corrupted treants, crazed minions, whoever! I know exactly what to do with them and we can't let them escape.
- Yes, lord. –And he went away to rally some satyr warriors in the other part of the base.
"Interesting. Very Interesting, indeed. Everything Lord Baspheroth planned fulfills in order. Then it's time to call forth old friends, and make them pay old mistakes..."
Then a foul stench filled the air I was breathed. And I knew it was the essence of defilement. "Ahhh! The dark essence of a hundred demons not-so-willingly sacrificed by the master Baspheroth to extend our power way quicklier."
- Delicious! Keep working, you maggots! The master will be here soon to inspect our work and we must not disappoint him.
- W-Wh-What happened... here?
I was painfully crippled but I couldn't remember why. I could barely think: "A storm, giants, fire... battle... DEMONS!!!" In that moment, I remembered everything and stood up immediately. Everything destroyed. Everyone dead and burnt. Corpses everywhere. For a moment I believed the demons took me with them to the Twisting Nether. Then I watched the surrounding lands. "Still in Felwood..."
I saw my commander Daliena laying dead and badly incinerated. She and many others were unrecognizable due to the burns and wounds; I just knew who they were because of their battle uniforms and armament. As I wandered through the battlefield, I wondered where were the demon giants. Lately, I concluded they must have banished into the oblivion as they do after a battle.
Then, suddenly, I realized something disturbing: "Where are Ghandral and his druids? They were not here, neither dead nor alive. But... what did Daliena shouted before the battle?"
We were dwelling in a murky cavern far away the grove I really didn't want to remind me. My brethren and I were very quiet, astonishingly quiet. I still was slightly shocked by my... our reaction towards the demons. It was not only fear but, and I hate to admit it, respect. Undeniable respect. It was obvious, and my brothers were aware too, we were returning to our demonic roots just as the feeling of guilty was fading gradually. "It's this place. Full of corruption and chaotic energies. Enough to drive anyone against his own companions."
- Ghandral Rootbane! It's been a long time.
Right when it seemed things couldn't go worst, we heard a very much known wicked voice from the entrance of the cave. Accompanied with many other darkened creatures, he stood there with a devilish grin in his face and swinging his black saber softly. Baron Bakrial Shadowblade, Makialus’ right hand. And this time, I couldn't order him to leave immediately.
- Lord Makialus Rootbane is waiting for you.
We couldn't do anything. Again, they were too much to fight and we had no option. Not even run away.
- Is everything proceeding as planned?
- The night elves had already lost the battle against your mighty Infernals and the traitorous druids will soon be here for their redemption.
- And the plans about corrupting all the nearby forests?
- Everything marching as planned, great Baspheroth.
- Then continue with your work and you will receive what we agreed, Makialus.
- Your will, master.
And the great Eredar disappeared in a huge explosion of fire. "Baspheroth will be pleased by our success in every one of his orders, and will give us the reward Archimonde failed at. Now, time to deal with the twice traitor."
-Lord Makialus, your expected guests have arrived.
Submitted by Shadowy Crafter
Last edited by KingGigli : 02-06-2006 at 01:00 AM.
when me and olof were making up the ideas for the troll story I couldnt stop laughing...thats all i say.
This is ofc the storyline to Unsung Legends and it is an Open RPG therefore this doesn't really have an ending like a cinematic story would, rather it's more of a prologue/the setting of Unsung Legends. It does have two main plots, 1) the main one everyone notices, the scourge invasion and 2) the more subtle plans of the old gods. I think it might be a bit confusing, u want to read it and tell me what u think? Medhiv serves as the narrator sorta.
Prelude - The New Age
The new age has come... at last. Some had hoped that it would be welcomed with peace and prosperity. But as Medhiv looked over the armies of the scourge as they massed. He saw little hope for this. Not content with his empire over then north and parts of lordaeron, Ner'zhul has begun to invade lordaeron in hopes of overrunning thier weakened armies and creating new solidiers for his army of the dead. It seems as though they will be successful for after the first battles, runners have been sent back proclaiming the power of the scourge and that the fall of Lordaeron was only a matter of time.
Yet many obstacles lay in the way. Although the humans were crushed by the scourge in previous battles, the forsaken rebellion has brung new hope to a desolate race. Lead by the brave armies of Gilneas, and driven by the light and a hunger for vegenance, the humans look to halt or at the very least slow the advance of the scourge.
After thier rebellion against the scourge, the forsaken have been clinging to what parts of lordaeron they hold. The scourge loyalists led my Kel'thuzad assault the infant forsaken cities, daily, nearly razing some to the ground. While the humans -incensed after the death of Garithos- have also proved to be a pain in the side. The new wave of scourge attacks led by Anu'barak opens up even more problems for the streched forsaken armies. Although she is considered one of the greatest military minds in the history of Azeroth the dark lady has been unable to stop the steady advance of the scourge. So in desperation she has offered a truce to the alliance forces whilst the two armies fight the scourge. As the humans grudingly agree to a ceasefire, the dark lady scans Lordaeron in search of more unsuspecting allies.
The ogres are dis-organized and confused without thier orcish allies and see little hope for the future of thier race. Some have voiced thier interests in joining the forsaken, but elder ogres fear that they are simply possessed by banshees. With all ogres choosing the sides the race looks on the verge of civil war.
"That which does not kill you makes you stronger"
and no one knows that better than the forest trolls. After thier legendary defeat at Quel'thalas the forest trolls have always been a band of marauding disorganized creatures mostly incapable of lauching a full assault. Now as the alliance seemes all but destroyed, the trolls have put aside tribal differences to unite as one. While thier aim is to stop the advance of the scourge, the trolls have also taken advantage of the moemnt to seize new lands and re-claim thier ancient grounds, they have no problem in allowing the scourge to wipe out the alliance first. With this renewed ferocity, Tarren Mill has come alive as the Trolls capital to which they have added extensive underground passages and halls. Very few benefit from the turmoil of this new era but none more than the trolls.
Yet with all of this a darker evil than even the Lich King lays under Azeroth biding it's time until it is time to strike and that moment grows nearer with every passing second.
The drums of war beats louder still and rivers run red with blood. Champions will rise to protect what is thiers and fall doing so, but if the world is to truly survive this age, it is in need of more than champions it is in need of a hero.. a legend..
Medhiv shook his head and smiled bitterly
Such a hero may exist but his hatred for this world is great, if he will rescue it or plunge it into greater turmoil, no one can say.. but we all pray for salvation. Our lives are in your hands... Illidan son of Stormrage.
Chapter 1 - The Pact
"Illidan... You have failed, again." The demon lord's voice boomed disappointedly in his head.
"I am sorry master... I shall not fail again." he muttered failing to add because he would no longer be anyones messenger boy.
"You are lucky there is even going to be a next time, Stormrage. But you have the chance to prove your usefulness to the cause of the legion. A new power has awoken in Azeroth one that rivals even mine. But it is still weak, find it, crush it and from it's ashes bring me it's strength."
"Master.. what power?"
"That is hard to say, but all shall feel it soon. I am sure you do aldready... Find it, bring it to me! And the full power of the legion will be brought to bear upon Azeroth."
Illidan forced himself to now concentrate on his path. The blizzard clouded his ability to nazvigate, even though he was blind, he needed his senses, but he could hear nothing, feel nothing...
His servants had abandoned him, the naga and blood elves, thinking him either dead or crippled. They would pay, but how was he to accomplish such a task with no army?
"It is power you seek... we can give it to you... strength beyond your imagination."
Illidan startled, it certainly wasn't Kil'jaeden...
"Why... why? You do the work, you find the power. Why must you hand it over?"
The obvious answer, that he would be annihilated, popped into his head, but the voices made sense in some twisted manner why?
"We can give you power to... to defy Kil'jaeden, to re-shape Azeroth as you please, all we ask is that you.. set us free."
"But why would you give me that?"
It made no sense, certainly they had some other motive.
"We have been imprionsed for ages, all we hunger for is to... re-awaken. That is all we ask. You of all beings know what it is like... to be impriosoned for no end."
Images of his lonely and terrible time as prisoner of Maiev flashed in his head.
"Yess... why should I? But first... you give me power.. an army, then I will see about setting you free."
"It is done."
Illidan was startled, he had expected some haggling, bargaining or at least for it to take some time, like all others who cared only for themselves... like those who had imprisoned him.
He whipped around, blades in hand, ready for a battle. At first he saw nothing, but then in the distance dark shapes emerged, what they were was hard to tell in the blizzard. Yet as they grew closer, he could sense what they were, blind as though he maybe. Tentacles, long drooping hands lined with powerful muscles. Strong resilience to magic and incredibly powerful elemental powers of thier own. Faceless one...
The first one stepped forward and knelt
"We are at your service master..."
"Behold your army..."
Chaper 2 - The forgotten cavern
Absolute evil... It is said that nothing is truly evil, that evil is a compartive term. We are evil to the orcs, they are evil to us, but neither are true monsters. Evil is a point of view, it does not truly exist. So they say.
Well they were wrong. Absolute evil exists, it exists under the very land we tread on, the sea we sail upon, and it has existed for thousands upon thousands of years. Yet it was sealed away long ago, never again to be opened and never again to threaten the sancity of our world. Well they got that wrong too, something has happened and now that evil is on the threshold of being release again. Few are aware of this immenient danger -few even know it exists-, therefore it is our duty to stop this monstrous evil. It shalt not rise again.
Torin Firekin quickly scribbled in his journal as he prepared to leave. Ever since the fall of Dalaran, he had fallen under a new master ,Shal Lightbinder, and a new cause. It had been observed for some time that the murlocs had been acting strangely and more viciously, taking even more sacrifices than usual. At the same time, many rogue elementals were reported and the enslaved elementals became harder to bring under contorl, many a mage perished at the hands of thier slaves. Through endless research the elder mages had realized that perhaps now when the world was plunged in chaos, yet another greater evil would arise once more to plague Azeroth. By the time this had been found out, the migrations had started. A great number of murlocs left thier costal homes to begin a great voyage across land and sea, where they were going no one was quite sure but it was clear that it was for some vile intention. And then a startling discovery was made...
"When the titans banished the defeated elementals to the elemental plane, and thier gods were imprisoned, the titans were faced with yet another dilemna. The generals of the old gods had proven to be mighty warriors and could simply not be banished the same way the lesser elementals had been, and they were quite different from the old gods, thier essences were elemental and yearned for the elemental plane. So the titans devised a clever solution, the generals would be banished to the elemental plane but bound in such a way that the only way they could be re-summoned to the physical plane was if they were summoned in a specific location. These locations were heavily guarded by some of the titans most fierce creatures and hidden far from even the knowledge of the Earthen. Yet over time, the Earth shifted, and these locations became more accessible, though still heavily guarded. Somehow or another, history is not quite clear, the dark dwarves managed to summon Ragnaros the firelord from his prison, though he turned on them and enslaved the remaining dwarves. Ragnaros had been sufficiently weakened by the inept summoning, but still posed a powerful threat, he lies plotting and waiting to re-gain his power to this day. But the three remaining elemental generals remain hidden, woe to the world should they be released."
read a scrap of paper, which is thought to come from the legendary book of medhiv. From this many assumptions were made, one that the murlocs worshipped the old gods and thier generals, two the seismic disturbal of Illidan's spell has caused one or more of these chambers to be accessible, three it is still unbelievably heavily guarded and four to defeat thee mighty beings, murlocs from across the world are being summoned and have thus started thier migrations.
From this a massive operation was launched and after many failed missions and many more slain mages, it was uncovered that the chamber - from now on reffered to as the "forgotten cavern"- was located in the center of the maelstrom itself. To stop these beasts a team of mages and thier apprentices were being sent forth.
"Hurry Torin! We must leave now!" his master called and Torin hurriedly stuffed his spellbooks into his satchel and left, purposely leaving his journal behind.
It had been many weeks since Torin had embarked on the mission. Terrible things had happened, things that would change him forever -should he live- and things that simply should not be written down. The journey to the forgotten cavern had been treacherous and many mages had died battling the murlocs. The forgotten cavern was enormous, streching far under the sea and some outlets coming out into small island caves. It's size was compared to the fabled chamber of aspects, but it could not truly be proven. The murlocs had set up vast camps and had begun to slow assault of the Titan's strongholds, which we often consisting of enormous hyrdras and sea giants. The main chamber was guarded outside by massive creatures whom the magi had been unable to see for they had found an alternate unguarded entrance to the chamber.
Now months of preparation, years of reasearch and centuries of the future depended on his actions now. His fellow mages lay dead around him, his master among them, the effort to seal the chamber far too much for them. Now only he stood, but the majority of the incantation had been said and now only a few words lay in the way. However these were some of the most draining...
Giant footsteps echoed though the cavern, clearly just beyond the gate of the main chamber.
They grew closer
The gate flew open but what stood in it, Thorin could not see, his eyes were closed.
"Mortias... Mortias Neputlion!"
he cried and his eyes flew open as the creature lumbered towards him.
"It is too late, it has been sealed. Neptulon will not rise again, kill me if you want, it will change nothing." Torin stammered white with fear
"Then you will die..." and the blade flew at him.
Chapter 3 - The battle of Silverpine
Sal Brightsteel took one glance back at the wonderful bustling city that was Gilneas, his home, and then marched off with the remainder of his corps. The scourge had launched another invasion and now every able-bodied man was needed to defend the empire. Technically, he shouldn't be serving, for he was an old veteran of many campaigns but everyone was needed.
That was months ago, months since he had had comfortable shelter or good warm food. Since then they had fought to defend shoreline outposts against the scourge, everytime time they had been wiped out and everytime Sal had just barely escaped. Now they had gathered in Silverpine forest, the last stragetic location, held by the unlikely human and forsaken allies. Were Silverpine to fall, all of Lordaeron would soon follow.
It rained constantly here and it was a very dreary place, the scourge constantly assaulted thier strongholds with never-ending seieges, sometimes they launched bodies of the fallen humans to strike fear in the hearts of defenders. All in all it was hell and he could not helping hope that the scourge would attack and put them out of thier misery soon enough. But apparently they were smarter than that for the seige dragged on and on, and the morale of the troops was at rock-bottom, fresh troops coming in were disheartened just by the sight of the crestfallen faces that greeted them.
Finally... finally after so long of waiting on the brink of insanity, it was about to begin. The scourge had been massing and unloading thier troops all day the battle cry would come soon and Sal would charge ,hopefully to his death. Then it came a massive howl as the scourge rushed foward, and then the smaller if just as determined cry as the forsaken surged.
The cry was issued and the alliance forces swarmed toward the battle. Some were trampled as they ran forward to prevent the scourge from securing real land (so far they only controlled the shorelines), but no one paid any attention, one only had enough courage to care for oneself. The rest of the day was a blur, except for one event that stood out to him, the last of his life.
He had just engaged a scourge leiutenant in battle and it seemed sure that he would be killed, for the skeleton simply had no flesh nor could feel no pain. Just as Sal slipped and prepared for the inevitable strike that would end his life, but it never came. For just as he looked up the skeleton fell apart and crumbled into a heap of bones. Squinting at a cliff in the distance, he thought that he could make out a slightly hunched over and green skinned creature holding a spear in hand, but it seemed to disappear once he blinked, perhaps it had just been a mind trick, and then he passed out as the sword of the now crumbling skeleton fell straight unto his head.
For the rest of the day the scourge poured forward and the defenders held them at bay (though suffering terrible loses), yet when the battle was done and fought there could be no doubt that it was the defenders who hda triumped. The scourge had gained little land and the invasion had been -mostly- repelled. Yet Sal did not awaken to this glorious vicotry, in fact he never again opened his eyes, just another casualty among so many others...
They say that the new age started when the lichking was crowned and his era of cruel dictatorship would start, but to Medhiv the new age started at quite a different date. To Medhiv it started more than a year later, when hope for survival was revived, when the scourge was repelled -momentarily-, when the battle of silverpine was over. Then the new age begun, for now it seemed as though the impossible would happen and the scourge would be driven back and peace could reign as it was mean't to be.
And all who live to see this day rejoice inwardly upon it, be it from the cold spires of Northrend where Ner'zhul lies planning, the forgotten cavern where one figure rises above the hunched murlocs congregated there and proclaims "Neputulon shall rise again!", to the battle field of silverpine forest where horns of victory sign and to a small tavern in south shore where a cloaked figure sits gulping down drink after drink as if waiting... for someone.
Indeed the new age has come and may all live to see the next one, medhiv though and smiled to himself. Maybe.. just maybe the world is no longer in need of his guiding hand.
-Submitted by Taur
There was an inn, a bar, a tavern or whatever you might call it. That stood in the lands of Lordaeron. The tavern was called "Bonnie Hill", It was the best place in the land that you could ever get a good times memory at.
The owner of this tavern was named "Morak Thundershield." He was a sorcerer in his time long before the tavern was built but then he traded those days in for a good living in an inn. Morak was only an owner, and was a bartender whenever he felt like it. This story is about a man. This story is about Morak . . .
"Blimey mate! are ye' sure you wan't another drink?" asked the bartender who had broad shoulders and a fat belly. The bartender's legs were stout, and his arms were brute-like. He wore a tattered shirt that was covered in ale and he wore blue pants with one covered in a quilted patch.
The man the bartender talked to looked quite tall and muscular as well. He wore plated armor that had a cross carved in the middle that also looked to be stained with ale, easily showing that this man was a paladin.
"Lemme' tell you something Loyd! I...I...wan't another drink!...Ale here sir! lot's of i--...." The paladin said as he passed out and fell onto the floor.
"Ah boy, look's like this chap's had too much!" the bartender laughed as he walked to his next customer.
As the bartender walked to the customer who was pounding on the table for more ale, a pandaren brewmaster came stummbling through the inn doors. Dizzily the brewmaster stumbled across the room and had a seat on the chair the paladin had fallen off of.
"Bragh! I wan't your best ale on the menu! Pal!" said the drunk brewmaster, pounding on the table every word he said.
"Aye, and that'll be twelve coins on you my dear good drunken fellow!" said the bartender.
"What! twelve smackers on your brewy? Bragh! I need no twelve coins on your drink!" The brewmaster said dumbly. But the bartender just walked away, to take another order from another drunken customer.
"Hit me with another one of these ol' brew kegs ye' got back ther'," A new customer said, not yet drunk like the others. "And perhaps some of your good Shimmerglaze roasts?"
"That be twenty coins on that order." replied the bartender as he washed a wooden cup with a cloth.
This customer found the price quite satisfying and happily paid the right amount, with also three extra coins along with it. The bartender immidiatly liked the man's generosity and quickly took the coins and yelled out an order into a window behind the counter. Then the bartender walked to his next customer, as the man waited patiently for his meal.
"I wish I didn't have to do this damn thing!" a man said who had a black robe on with a dark shaded hood. The hood shaded over the mans face, leaving the light only to reveal his nose down.
"Well that wish shall not come true, unless you wish to truely die as a coward!" replied a man wearing a purple robe with a long white beard. He wore a purple hat as well and carried a sturdy staff made of oak wood, and had a blue gem on the top with wooden wings from the staff next to the gem, supporting it to stay still.
"But why must I do it now? why not a couple years from now, when I'm older?" asked the man in black.
"Because Faladin, there will not be any other chances to kill or even fight off an ogre single handedly!" the man in purple said, seeming irritated.
"Single handedly? But I thought you were going to help me Morak!" Faladin said in a fearful and angry tone. But Morak did not listen. He was busy shuffling through his spell book that he had tied to his waist. Then finally he stopped and studied on one page.
"Ah ha! I've found it!" Morak yelled in a joyful voice, raising his finger.
"Found it? Found what?" Faladin asked confused.
"Why, the spell that should be perfect for you to defeat this mindless beast of course!" Morak laughed. But the ogre they had planned to kill was far too close and heard what Morak had said. Then furiously the ogre roared and charged after the two mages.
"Damnit Morak what's the spell? The damn ogre is approaching!" Faladin said, frightened.
"Okay, it's an offensive spell...uh, just wave your hands in the air and chant out the words: Andu' Falah!" the wizard instructed. Then Faladin ran up top a hill and did as the skilled wizard had instructed him. At first nothing happened, but he then noticed his hands kept waving and then he lost control and they froze like a statue. His hands began to glow blue and volts of lightning swirrled around his hands. And for the ogre's lack of intelligence, it stopped to stare at the glowing of Faladin's hands. And with a great suprise to the ogre, the glowing then stopped and then the mage's hands began to go up in flame, as the glowing turned from blue to red. And before the ogre could dodge; a fireball came bursting forth toward the fat creature, disintigrating it to a hot pile of black steaming ashes.
Faladin was amazed and extremely excited for this was the first time he had ever done such a spell. He wanted to do it again, and again. He wanted to kill off all his hated foes. He wanted...to learn more effective powers of such mass destruction.
"Whoa! That was..." Faladin said, as he paused and starred at the black ashes of his defeated opponent.
"Blood-thirsting, yes I know. That is exactly how I felt, but remember, you must keep control of your powers and use of spells, or else you'll find yourself working in the hands of evil, like the wreched undead!" Morak said walking through the forest. But Faladin took what he said : "you'll find yourself working in the hands of evil!"
"Bragh! I need me brewie!" the brewmaster demanded.
"Bloody hell mate! for two things, ye' don't have enough coins, and ye've been drinkin' a bit too much brew and ale!" the bartender argued back.
"Bragh! I'll be back for meh' drink you swine!" the brewmaster said as he dizzily stumbled out of the tavern. But the bartender just nodded his head and went back to the generous man and gave him his well deserved ale and roast.
The bartender walked up and down the counter but no more customers were asking for another keg of ale. Since they had all been knocked out with the so called "Brew's fever" on what the bartender, Dugal, likes to call it.
Dugal walked down the counter, looking for any non-drunken faces that would soon order for a beer or some ale. Yet there was no such thing as a man or whatever race you may please that would not get drunk within ten minutes. Unless if there had been a long, crouded, line of people waiting for their order. Though the bartender knew that the customer would have an eightyfive percent of a chance to order a beer, an ale, a bowl of brew. And because of so many people ordering ale and beer and whatnot, he leaves it all out on the side for him to just swipe right up, that way the lines go quicker and the money comes in faster.
"Poor ol' souls, they ain't wakin' up until two in the afternoon!" Dugal said outloud as he washed a wooden cup with a wet and soapy cloth, "Seem's like they all gonna be late for work."
"Yep...well it saves time fer us!" said a chef who was holding a shimmerglazed roast as if it were a sack of potatoes, "And we'll get to rest too!"
"Ye' got a point ther' , Alkan!" replied Dugal joyfully.
The Chef was fat. He had a broad body, more broad than the bartender, Dugal. The chef wore a white chef hat and a dirty white bib, that had blood on it (most likely to be from the shimmerglazed roast) and some beer and ale stains also.
The face of the chef was fat and blubbery, seemed to frown unwanting to, and had a scar on his cheek. He held a big iron and bloody butcher knife, and he was very big, compared to the doorway between the bar and the kitchen.
"O' course I got a point! I'm holdin' a big cleaver here!" Alkan said, as he waved his "cleaver" to him.
"My my, Alkan, have you been drinkin' up on the brew up there?" asked Dugal.
"Well I only had 'bout six bouls, not so much! not big problem!" Alkan said, easily growing angry.
"Yer' drunk Alkan...I think it's time ye've got to go home!" suggested Dugal. But Alkan just grew more mad and walked away.
"Ah well...Maybe ye' could drink some more ale, Just to get yer' self to sleep." Dugal said as he laughed. Alkan didn't hear what he had said, but Alkan was truely drunk and dizzy. Alkan walked out side, and looked up out into the sky, then started to spin around with his dizziness, despite his drunk status. Dugal found it amuzing and watched Alkan spin around in circles, until Alkan fell with Brew's fever. Alkan was way too heavy for Dugal to carry inside the tavern. So Dugal just watched him lay there for a few moments and then returned to his counter in the bar.
"Come on, Faladin! what are you waiting for?" called out Morak.
"Oh uh, I'll be right there!" Faladin called back, taking one last glance at the still smoking ashes of the defeated ogre, and then running towards Morak, who was waiting for him upon a steep grassy hill with his staff supporting himself.
When Faladin caught up to Morak, they both began to walk steadily up the hill. Then Faladin began to speak.
"Morak, will you teach me more spells and powers?" the young mage asked, with an excited expression upon his face.
But the wizard did not respond. Just a look at Faladin, and then back upon the hill on which they climbed. Faladin took it as a no.
"Please, Morak! please!" Faladin begged, hoping for a good answer.
"I am sorry young one, but we must wait to do this tomorrow, or perhaps even longer." Morak replied with an ending sigh.
"But why wait? why not one more spell?" asked Faladin desperatly.
Morak sighed and then stopped.
"Because we must let your mana strength regain! without mana, you will fail to do any spells!" replied the wizard for the last time.
"But I feel full of mana! I've got enough energy for a thousand more spell!" Faladin said with widened eyes.
Morak did not answer. He figured his last reply would prove to be his only needed answer.
"Why can't I do atleast a little spell now?...huh?" asked again, only irritating the wizard even more.
"God damnit, Faladin! You cannot use spells with no mana, you cannot feel your mana's energy until you have succeeded in becoming a true wizard or mage! I can sense your mana energy and I feel it that there is not enough even for the smallest of all spell! now...would you please shut up! and get to climbing the rest of this god forsaken hill!" Morak said with such anger and irritation, making him even more tired than he already was.
Faladin then understood what Morak had explained and had stopped asking questions.
After the two had reached the top of the hill, both had rested upon a wooden stump of an oak tree that had fallen many years ago. Morak easily fell asleep upon the stump and so did Faladin.
But did the ogre's soul sleep easily?
Daylight soon came upon the land, and it was work time for most of Lordaeron's people. Alkan woke up, no longer dizzy and drunk, yet very confused. He looked around and then picked himself up and walked back into the Tavern's kitchen. He didn't remember anything past the part where he was drinking his fourth bowl of brew. He didn't remember going to sleep, and didn't remember spinning around.
When he got to the bartender's counter, he saw Dugal laughing at him. Alkan was confused and began to laugh with him, yet not knowing why he started to laugh. Then Dugal walked closer to him and asked, "How was yer' sleep last night?" Dugal said, as he laughed hysterically.
"Why, I don't remember!" Alkan said as he scratched his head in confusion.
"You were drunk! ye' old bafoon! you were twirlin' around outside like a bloody moron!" laughed the bartender.
Alkan felt shy and humiliated and covered his face with his dirty hands in embarrasment.
"Why didn't yeh' thow a bucket O' water on me then!" asked the chef angrily.
"Heh...why, I didn't want to spoil yer' fun!" laughed the bartender again, "You atleast looked like ye' were havin' fun!"
"Damnit boy! thats the fat that be making me smile!" Roared the chef, "Ye' think I be happy out in public spinnin' around like a damned bafoon!"
Dugal laughed at Alkan, knowing that Alkan was soon to tear him limb from limb if he kept laughing.
"Err!...get back teh' work, Dugal! we be expectin' drunk customers soon!" Ordered the chef.
"Ha! we already got one bloody drunk in here!" taunted the bartender.
Alkan roared in fury and charged toward Dugal, who was running away from him, dodging tables and punches from the mighty fat chef. Dugal's speed prove satisfactory and outran the slow and fat mighty man. Though Dugal is quite fat, he had taken agility classes and advanced his endurance and speed. Thank god for those classes, or Alkan would have had torn him apart!
"Ah! forget you!" gasped the chef, "We've got good payin' work to do!"
"Yep." replied the bartender, who was regaining his strength and getting some breath. "Let's call a truce huh?" suggested Dugal, offering his hand.
"Ha! not that easy will me cleaver stand away!" laughed the chef, trying to chop off Dugal's hand, yet failed to do so.
But both went to their posts to begin to take orders from the drunks who were just waking up and to order another keg of ale and then some.
After the two woke up to the bright morning sun, they headed down a dirt path. They were silent all the way until they reached a wooden sign on the side of the road that read: "Beware! Dark forest ahead." Morak ignored the warning and went on, along followed by Faladin.
"Where are we goin'?" Faladin asked. Morak looked up at the cloudless sky and finally responded.
"To a special Guild that sits just on the border of Quel' Thalas. It is uncharted on the map, as is the road itself too."
"Enchantments and advanced wizardry, meh' boy. A cloaking spell that makes the road and Guild not appear on any map of the world."
"Wow! You think I be good at that sorta' thing too?" Faladin's eyes buldged with excitement.
"Not in a lifetime. You are only a mage, a low class sorcerer, rookie still. Only powerful wizards can cast such a spell."
Morak and Faladin continued walking and continued their conversation. After an hour they were only two miles away from the Guild. Once they got there, Morak took a short look around and had Faladin walk inside the Guild. The Guild was made up of stone and wooden support beams. The windows were stained with dryied blood and there was a dead archer lying on the ground, decapitated. The grass was brown and dirty, most unusual for Quel' Thalas to have, especially in the Summer!
The inside of the Guild was burnt and torn apart, as if thieves and bandits have come to look for something. A couple scorched corpses lay in different areas of the Guild. One was found all bones and black ash, with a bronze axe sitting between the ribs and stuck in the wooden floor the corpse layed on. Another was found with half a head, and not as burnt. The left arm was all bone, the rest was regular and blood stained.
"What happened here?" Faladin asked Morak with an expression of fright.
"I-I-I don't know." Morak looked around and found a muddy footprint just on the porch of the Guild. "It looks like the work of the undead!" Morak exclaimed.
"How do you know?"
"The imprint here is old, and has the mark of hell on it. But the decapitated archer gets me, since undead cannot get such a clean shot. This was definatly done by skeleton warriors."
"But why did they leave weapons their weapons behind, like the axe over there in the man's chest?"
"Not weapons of undead, they used the Guild's own weapons against itself." Morak paused and examined the print some more, then looked outward for more clues. "I think the undead are up to something... I just know it!"
Late afternoon, Alkan and Dugal suprisingly have no visitors in their Tavern, save the drunken men from the morning. They sat bored stiff in the bar. Alkan stood outside of the Tavern looking out and around the town. Nobody was found walking about the roads of the little town. Except one man who wore a dark cloak and a hood that came over his face enough to shade almost all of his face. The cloaked man slowly limped into the Tavern and took a seat in the back corner by a small window. Dugal watched the man suspiciously for the man did not order any alcohol or food as all other customers had done when they entered the Tavern.
The man raised his hands, making his sleeves crawl away from his hand and grasp around his wrists. He began to mumble a spell and snapped his fingers. Green and red haze appeared near the man and after the haze fadded, a hot meal was presented on the table. It was fresh enough for Dugal to smell from all the way at his counter.
"Hey! we've ain't got room for non-paying customers!" Alkan shouted towards the man. But the man showed no affection and summond a fork and then began to eat. "He's a man of dark arts is what he is!" Alkan wispered to Dugal.
"Aye, friend, Indeed it's evil!" Dugal replied, leaning towards Alkan.
"You think summoning food and an eating instrument is dark arts magic?" Asked the man with a deep and somehow dark voice. "Well, then you've seen nothing of evil magic!" The man got up from his seat and limped toward the fire place and stood there for a long while. Dugal and Alkan starred at him and had all sorts of thoughts running through their minds. Then suddenly, Alkan lost his temper and threw a barrel at the man. As the barrel flew towards the man, the man stood and acted as if he had no desire to dodge the object.
The barrel stopped in mid-air just in front of the man and gently dropped to the floor. Then the man limped his way towards the exit, and disapeared as he went around the corner.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" asked Dugal widly, "Goin' all off on the customer like that!"
"He wasn't no customer!" Alkan replied throwing up his arms. "Did you see 'im, order anything!"
"Well he might of changed his mind and chose to order more food if you didn't scare him off like that!"
"Bragh! The ******* had his meal! . . ." Alkan said and sat on a barstool.
"But why did ye' do it?" Asked Dugal curiously and agitated.
"Throw that barrel o' course!"
Alkan didn't know why he threw it. He didn't know why he got irritated by the man in the first place either. "What's come over me?" Alkan thought to himself. He felt as if a great force was making him do the action he had done. Evil lurked his mind. Evil was the only answer and thought in his head.
"It was evil!" Alkan burst out without the intention to speak.
"Evil? . . ." Dugal asked as he got closer up into Alkan's face, "Evil is what's making you do this! Then you have far more issues than I had thought you had before."
What made Alkan speak those words? Alkan believes too that he might have gone crazy. But why? What is the motive to do such proposterous and wild things? The last time he has ever done something crazy was when he had once fought out on the fields of Kaz Modan. God knows only what will happen next.
Morak continued to search for more clues and tracks, picking up dirt, grass, twigs, leaves, any source that can reveal what truely had happened to this training guild.
"I don't understand though . . ." Morak said as he starred at muddy boot prints on the shredded grass, "These soldiers were trained very well and knew all there was to know about combat. Something is amis in this air as well, it is . . . very damp and has an unlikely old dead odor to it, most unusual for a summer day in these parts."
"Should we look for survivors?" Asked Faladin, hood on with the dark shadows upon his face.
"No. There is no point to look for the living now, most likely the invaders we sent on an no survivors order."
"What should we do?" Faladin asked as Morak sniffed a piece of debris that he held in his hand, "Where will we go?"
"Aye, a good question for once lad." Morak asked and suddenly paused.
"What is it?" Faladin asked, noticing a shocking and swift transformation on Moraks face.
"More scouts coming this way, perhaps bigger patrol. And by the looks of it, the scouts before might have spotted us!"
"Damnit! What do we do?" Faladin's heart was racing and his head was pounding from the excitement, "Lets go in the guild." Faladin suggested.
"No, don't be foolish boy! the demons will have that structure burning within moments from now!"
"So what should we do?"
"Run and pray me boy, run south to Lordaeron."
"Lordaeron? but why the---" Morak had already gotten up and bolted south with all the speed his old legs could bring him. Quite the fastest Faladin had ever seen any elder at the age of ninety run.
The two hid in a small, muddy trench that was 50 yards away. Morak let himself fall inside the trench, looking as if he had stumbled off a cliff. Faladin, however, neatly crawled into the trench. The trench had an odor of death and the familiar smells of sweaty armpits. Little worms, ants and other insects swarmed the trench in various areas.
Faladin raised his head above the trench just enough to see the guild's porch. Dark shadowy figures began to form from a distance behind the bushy trees and shrubs. Soon enough, the figures were revealed to the young mage; Morak had lied down still as possible, as if he were dead.
The figures were clearly revealed and were horrific looking enough to make Faladin gasp in fear. They were skeletons clad in dark black breastplates, stained with red and brown blood. They wielded dark wooden bows with bowstrings made of human flesh and hair. They wore skullcap helms---Helms that are a bit like a mushroom, but made of iron and with a spike on top.---with a symbol resembling a cracked skull. Morak raised his head to see for himself, he looked hard and good and studied the demonic soldiers closely.
"Well I've got good news for you boy." Whispered the Wizard.
"What is it?" Faladin asked lowering his head back under the trench.
"These foul creatures are not a part of the burning legion or a part of the scourge."
"What are they a part of then?"
"Most likely a new clan. And they seek a good reputation for an early start, I'd need to look them up in the latest scout reports."
"Oh great. A new clan of evil!" Faladin then lost his concerntration and heard a voice in his head saying :
Yes young one. Evil. The one and true prime evil has been unleased! Join us! Join the evil . . . for ultimate power!
And Faladin regained his wits and peered back at the small group, which immidiately turned out to be an on-going army. A large skeleton with burnt boots came closer and closer and closer to Faladin and Morak's position. The two dropped their heads and prayed to the Gods. The exceptionally large skeletal soldier was no less than one yard away from the two's hiding spot when a nearby wreched howl was called by one of the demonic soldiers behind the large one. He stopped and clacked and crackled his jawls as he looked around, as if looking for something or someone. Then the soldier jogged back to the army. Faladin and Morak let their heads raise again, to see the army grow even larger. Many skeleton warriors were standing near the guild. And on the porch stood a dark bearded wizard or perhaps even a necromancer stood with his long black staff and a purple and blood-stained spell book besides him held in his hand. The staff had a fierce dragon model carved on the top and in the mouth of the dragon was a green and dark red gem. The man wore a long brown cloak that was probably made of bears fur.
The man spoke words that was unknown to Faladin, but Morak listened hard.
"Merolious! Redemtus! Soray!" The words were strong and deep and echoed around the forest.
"Hero'nou Dome! Polonos Sertanatan! . . . Mo nerious so deer!" The last words made the undead warriors clap their wicked swords against their shields and made them stomp their feet on the ground, their voices were no more than slight crackles and twisting as their jaws grinded their decayed teeth.
The man raised his dark staff up into the air and slammed it against the porch floor, making a small fire start upon the guild and moments later sent the guild up in a blaze. Morak pulled a map out of his pocket and looked at it.
A path was being formed in between Strathlome and the border of Quel' Thalas. Then the magical path turned to ink, and from ink it turned to dust and ash, easy enough now to simply brush away.
"The guild is destroyed, along with the enchantments cast upon the---" Then an idea struck him, "Enchantments! Of course!"
Morak and Faladin got up and raced as fast as they could and followed the dirt path that they had come from, which seemed to disapear as it had on the map!
"Evil boy! I'm tellin' ya' it was evil!" Alkan argued against Dugal.
"Evil eh? well if it wa' evil that made ye' go out o' yer mind then I guess my name is Hurtoise!" Dugal laughed.
"Damned idiot, hurtoise is healing salve ingredient!" Alkan mocked back.
"Yer mind is made o' hurtoise!"
"We'll see who's more hurtoiseier!" Alkan threatened as he pointed his meat cleaver at Dugal. And then as every other fight, Alkan chased Dugal around the Tavern with his cleaver.
Hours later after the two had finished fighting, Customers began to pour in, some already drunk and some not. An wounded footman soldier came stumbling into the Tavern with his arm around his waist, blood stained his forearm and his plated chest. He sat on a barstool and ordered for a pint of ale.
"Ye' sure ye' don't need our help?" Asked the bartender gently.
"Just get away from me! I'll be all right!"
A second footman came into the Tavern and tried to comfort the soldier. But did little to ease his pain.
"Ale is very unusual fer' a human to drink ya' know." Commented the bartender. But the footman only replied with a grunt and a curse against dwarves. The ale was handed to the soldier and he lifted his visor of his helm, making the joints screetch and the blonde horse hair knitted to the top of his helm rustle and wave. The man put the cup to his lips and as he drank, his eyes buldged and the ale poured out of his nose and mouth and cup, and then smashed his head against the table, leaving a bloody dent in the counter.
"Poor selfish 'n' rude *******." Commented the bartender as he shook his head, "So how'd he get wounded in the first place if ye' don't mind me a askin'?"
"Well . . . It was me, him and another soldier that was sent on a patrolin' mission ya' see an' we were issued to investigate these here woods ya' see an'---" Dugal interupted the soldier with a question.
"Okay! okay! Just get to the point lad!"
"Ah yes, well uh . . . we got lost in these here woods ya' see an' we were shortly ambushed."
"Ah ha. And you were all ambushed by? . . ."
"Huh? Oh, well we ain't that sure really. A buncha' arrows were a flyin' a down on us and us threes got seperated. I ran south o' here ya' see an' I found ol' Danny a runin' towards this inn."
"What about that other lad?"
"Oh him? . . . Havn't heard of him since we've seperated, now we're probably gonna get ourselves another mission in the mornin' to find his dead ass!"
"Well ye' don't know if he's dead yet now do ye'?" chuckled the bartender.
"Of course he's dead! man like him livin' out in rainin' arrows? never!" The soldier got up and left the tavern.
A figure was spotted shortly after the soldier had left. The figure was dark and shaded, and sat in the corner with a large book in front of him. It was the same man as before when Alkan had gone off on the man.
Dugal called Alkan over to take a look.
"Take a look see at this here pain in the arse!" shouted Alkan pointing at the man. The man raised his head and made a grin that only revealed his decaying teeth and seemed to make Alkan's mind rumble with pain.
"Evil!!" the overweight butcher shrieked out into the air as he ran into the kitchen.
"His mind is like a simple and small chew toy for me to play with!" The man mocked, as he raised his hand that apeared to be fleshless. The boney hand pointed at Dugal and once Dugal noticed, he blacked out in an instant.
After the two had made it to the gates of Strathlome, they immidiately entered the castle and met with the lord of the castle in the royal hall.
The hall was filled with white marble pillars, decorated with blue and yellow flowers held together by a green vine. The tiled floor was also made of marble, somewhat of it was black marble instead of white tiled. The floor shined like a mirror. The walls were big grey stone bricks that sat up on eachother. The walls were also decorated with picture frames of great kings, paladins and lords all alongside the walls. At the end of the hall was a throne that sat the lord of the castle, 'Lord Minart.' He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a roughly shaved goatee. His small and trimmed mustache was grey and brown and curled against his cheeks. The lord wore heavy leather boots and matching gloves with the symbol of the alliance on his boot buckles. He was armoured with a black colored platemail, trimmed with gold.He also wore a mithril tunic under his breastplate. In the middle of his breastplate was a symbol of a shield with an eye in the middle of it that resembled of a dragon's. On his back he wore a red cape with the same symbol as the one on his breastplate. His platelegs were also black and trimmed with gold.
His skin was acceptionally tan and his eyes were brown. He left a face with no smile, revealing no teeth.
Morak and Faladin, tired as ever can be, ran up the hall towards the throne of Lord Minart, who was guarded by two short warriors that wore gold breastplates, gold helms, gold platelegs and a black shield. They each wielded a black and gold shortsword that was half the size of them.
Lord Minart eyed the two tired visitors as if they were the enemy.
"Lord Minart!" Called Morak as he and Faladin quickened their pace. "Lord Minart! I---" Morak was cutoff by an unbelievably strong force caused by the two short soldiers pushing him back, while Faladin regained his strength by sitting on the marble floor.
"What brings you two . . .Peasants, here?" Asked Lord Minart with disgust in his tone.
"We have a dire warning!" Morak pushed at the soldiers, but their strength over-powered the old wizard.
"Do you now? Hmmph! Against me or as a foolish threat?" Asked the tall armoured lord.
"Against all Lordaeron!" Morak said, "A new clan of undead has risen! Hundreds of skeleton warriors and demons are being controlled by a necromancer!"
"A new clan? A new army of undead controlled by a necromancer!?" Lord Minart stroked his goatee and signalled his guards to release the old wizard, "Well, if your tale is true, then this calls for a meeting in a secret area. Guards, leave us."
The guards looked at their lord and then walked out of the hall.
"We will tonight at Brill. I will supply you and your companion with horses, I will see you two later there." Lord Minart signalled the two to go as he thought and stroked his goatee.
-Submitted by Craka_J 123
Last edited by KingGigli : 02-06-2006 at 01:02 AM.
The Little Troll: Was that a serious story entry or just a joke, that was just retarded.
The Creep King : It was okay for a prologue.
Codex of Histories: It was interesting, I enjoyed it, but I know they said anything Wc3 related even a project of yours. But this seems too futuristic.
Red Horizons : It had a nice story to it
I'm guessing this is Azreal's Tale: Nice work Player, it had a great story to it.
Orcs are Coming: I only read a little bit after seeing how long this was. I know they said no limits, but that's just too long, It doesn't mean the longest one will win. but ot was okay....
Well these were my true opinions over the stories
I know it's long, but its not even finished...not even half done.
However, length will not matter to the judges (unless they get slowed down because of it :P) and in my view, length gives more detail, and enriches the story. If you read more than the first few lines, maybe you'd find it better than ok.
If you want to rate my story, please, read atleast the first Part. Then decide if it is good or not.
Thanks to SkriK for making the image.
Give rep to people who help you.
Currently taking writing requests.
Last edited by Undead_Lives : 01-21-2006 at 10:32 PM.