Gods & Men: The Ancient Myths: Chapter 1 IC Thread

[G&MRPG]

GODS & MEN: THE ANCIENT MYTHS RPG​

This RPG is a sword & sorcery fantasy setting set in the Earth of the past that combines elements of the D&D/fantasy genre with the stage being the ancient world.
Many of the well-known cultures of old, though separated through the years, are thrust together in this campaign setting that plays upon the sword & sorcery genre. The Celts in the British Isles, the Romans in Italy, the Viking/Norsemen in Scandanvia and the North, and the Egyptians in Northwest Africa. The ancient Greeks, the Persians, the myriad of cultures of Asia, Africa, and Arabia, even the lesser known peoples such as the Nubians.

All are placed in this world at once, with each group having a section carved out for them.

(Those familiar with the PC game series Civilization will see that this set up is in a similar vein)

Even with these old cultures thrown together there exist other major races different from man...

The short but hardy dwarves make their homes deep in the mountains of the Norselands, carving out huge elaborate kingdoms both inside and outside the mountains they mine. They tend to avoid most of the other races, but dwarves do travel the world trading their wares for many kinds of goods, and some renounce their hermit nature to become mercenaries and adventurers.

Many dwarven outposts have sprung up in cities around the world, from as far South as Cairo to as far East as Beijing...

The elves are an aloof race in tune with nature and make their home in many parts of Europe. The elves of the Norselands are home to both goodly elves and the evil, subterranean-dwelling dark elves, though the latter outnumbers their good natured kin in the region. Most elves stick to their woodland homes and stay away from man, but some communities ally with human kingdoms, and some elves curious of the world around them become explorers and adventurers.

Elven cities are even found in the British Isles, as well as the thick forests of Germany and Central Europe...

Halflings, no more taller than a child, are a generally good-hearted and fun-loving race who live throughout the land with no known kingdom of their own. Despite their size, they have proven to be ample adventurers and are highly skilled in the art of thievery. The latter seemingly getting them placed in precarious situations more often then not...

Orcs are a well known scourge to the lands as they are a race of barbarian savages who live for battle and conquest. Despite these short comings, some do possess the intelligence to become great leaders and cunning warriors. There are even a few who break free of their evil-hearted kin and choose to lead a decent life, though this is not only a rare happening, but it is also difficult to accomplish given their heritage which makes it extremely difficult to gain the trust of others...

Though these are just four of the major races that live alongside man on the planet, there are many others. For instance minotaurs in Crete, faeries in the British Isles, tribes of goblins throughout the lands, and giants in the Norselands.

This world is also home to a myriad of foul beasts and mythic creatures, from the wise and powerful sphinxes of Egypt, to the hydra and pegasi of Greece, to the mysterious and fearsome dragons found throughout the world.

Even demons inhabit this plane of existence, coming to the Material Plane to torment and tempt it's inhabitants. Though if defeated on the Material Plane, a demon is not killed but banished back to it's home dimension. Only on it's home plane can a demon truly be destroyed.

The demon's home plane is known throughout all the lands as the Nine Hells, a plane of existence made up of nine colossal layers, each ruled by a specific demon lord or dark god. Each layer may be different in appearance, but they all share a common trait: they are places of utter evil and suffering that no mortal should ever dare to go.

Despite these dangers throughout the world, there are great riches to be found. Many ancient treasures, artifacts, and relics from long forgotten civilizations, and ancient beings lay hidden in the deep places of the Earth just waiting to be discovered. Thus many travel the lands seeking fame and fortune to become the next great heroes of lore.

Most find death, or worse, but a rare few go on to become the stuff of legends...

Do you have what it takes?

Gamemasters: SuperFerret & Johnny Blaze
AGM: Kaboom

RULES
You can create any character, be they hero or villain, in this Ancient World as long as they:​

• Are NOT deities, gods, or demi-gods, or specific mythological/fantasy monsters (for instance no demons, celestials, or dragons).
• Are true to the personality and abilities of the character, such as no Roman soldier casting spells, using wands, and reading magical scrolls as if he were a master mage, and no wizard out-dueling a swordmaster...
• Do NOT rip off pre-existing heroes from myths and legends. Come up with your own creation. If your character is too similar to one in the ancient myths or in the fantasy genre you will be asked to change it or come up with a new character (your hero should aspire to follow in the footsteps of legends such as Sigurd or Achilles or King Arthur, not be a carbon copy of them).
• Do NOT criticize another poster’s character. We are not all as skilled as Homer or Shakespeare. Constructive criticism is okay as long as it is not offensive. This rule applies even if a poster asks for feedback.
• Your character should make sense. A battle-hardened orc chieftain doesn’t frolic in the meadows with the flowers and the birds. If you have a meek character, they shouldn’t be smacking other characters around.
• Communicate with others in your arc. This is key to the fun. It doesn’t matter how many fights you win, it matters if the fights were written well.
• Do NOT kill other Player Characters unless specifically asked by the player to do so. NPCs are fine to kill, with permission from anyone else using that NPC.
• The Game Masters have the final say in matters of character acceptance. You are welcome to alter the character to make it less powerful or more creative, but arguing with the Game Masters is not productive, not to mention something that you will not win. This is a game, let it be fun.
• You are allowed one character. Down the road you may be allowed two characters, but for now it's just one.
• This is a working environment, so you can travel to different places using your animals, vehicles, or your own two feet. Don't miraculously pop up unless you're using a teleportation spell, a magic item, etc...
• There are NO pre-established characters in this RPG, so it is a good idea to make your first post an origin post.
• You can reside in any place in the Ancient World (no Antarctica, or any of the Americas or Australia). Just Europe, Asia (including feudal Japan), & Africa. The rest of the world may be opened up in later seasons, but for now it's strictly Europe, Asia, and Africa.
• Don't do anything RANDOM like chopping off board user's heads or what not, unless your a villain chopping off NPC victims heads, then whatever, go with it, as long as it's not technically RANDOM (Don't be killing people without reason).
• Know your weaknesses and strengths, what you can or can't do. For instance, a Celtic warrior will lose against an ancient red dragon one on one, but may be able to use her allies to help her out or she can run away...very, very quickly.
• If you want to take part in this, just fill out an app and your name and character will appear on the roster, pending approval...
• You can form villain cabals, adventurer teams, military alliances, thieves guilds, sinister cults...the works...
• There can be a number of stories going on at once using different people...
• Act like your characters; ASSUME their traits and personalities...
  There are endless places to go and endless things to do: ENDLESS possibilities so get creative...
• There is no time travel at all. This preserves continuity easier and avoids confusion…
• There should be MINIMAL cussing and swearing in posts.
  There will be NO By-passing the censors. This is a Hype rule, and NO exceptions will be made for the RPG.
• No obscene topics!
• People who disobey these rules, some more major than the others, will get BOOTED by the Game Masters. Further problems will cause HYPE! Mods to get involved, which usually leads to user bannings, or the more severe IP Address banning.
• Stay true to the culture of your character (I.E. don't have your Chinese monk run around in Roman regalia praying to Odin).
• Even though this isn't specifically based on the Myths of old, take them into account when using monsters or mythical figures (for instance, don't have a plague of harpies in Norway when you know perfectly well that they're a Greek monster). More fantasy related creatures (such as a beholder or illithids) can theoretically be placed almost anywhere, provided the situation is appropriate.
• A player may also take up another race other than the ones listed above or in the racial traits section, but it first must be cleared by the GMs (both of them), and racial traits must be figured out by the GMs before the player can be considered for approval. Players can help create the traits for a character, but it is ultimately the GMs decision as to if those traits fit the race.
• No modern day religions are allowed in the game (Christianity, Islam, etc).

For the RPG Character Application and the game's roster, see the first post of the OOC Thread: http://forums.superherohype.com/showthread.php?t=278630

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The Town of Arialis, Northern France...2:45 AM...

The man waddled through the old library, adorned in the robes of a beggar, large shelves of dusty books and scrolls surrounding him. The library's eloquent design work shined in the moon light beaming in from the great windows, and of the flickering flame of lanterns hanging along pillars and walls. The beggar was alone in the library as it was closed for the night hours ago. How he got in was a mystery, but, nevertheless, the beggar was perusing a section of books on ancient Babylonian rituals when a voice cut through the silence of the library like a blade.

"So, it would appear are assumptions were correct."

The beggar turned to regard a rather plump, clean-shaven human male dressed in fine robes and holding an iron staff.

"Yes", came another voice from the other side of the room, "it seems as though our trap was a successful one."

The beggar spun to regard another human, more lithely built than his comrade, with a full graying beard, but still dressed in fine robes.

The beggar put the down the tome he had taken out and looked at both men, recognizing them as the mages they were.

"You're time is at an end, vile one", stated the corpulent one as he clutched tightly his staff.

The beggar looked at both of his would-be killers and laughed loudly, an inhuman laugh that sent shivers down the mage's spines.

"So", said the beggar with a smirk, "you thought to lure me out and trap me, eh?"

"Yes", the slender man calmly replied, "we are not foolish enough to challenge you in your lair where you are nigh invincible. So, with the promise of ancient knowledge, we lured you out to where we would be on even terms."

The beggar reared his head back and laughed loudly once again, in a mocking manner.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! You pathetic little creatures!"

"Do you honestly have the audacity to think that you are equal to me", roared the beggar as he tore off his ragged cloak to reveal regal, yet tattered robes, and ripped off the human flesh used to disguise his face and arms, revealing him to be a shriveled, decaying, dead thing.
The need for disguise gone, the lich revealed his true form.

The fat man visibly wavered at the sight of the dread creature as it stared at him with it's hateful eyes...eyes as black as the deepest abyss, yet burning with small pinpoint pyres of crimson.

"Do not be afraid", shouted the slender man to his chubby companion, "together we have the might to defeat the lich once and for all!"

"HA! You are a fool, Andreas", replied the lich, the man seemingly not rattled that the lich knew his true name.
"Both you and your fat friend will die here tonight. Even in the unlikely chance that you were to destroy me here, I will return, and my vengeance will be terrible."

"What are you talking about creature", asked the portly one as he took a small step forward.

"Why, Andreas did not tell you", questioned the lich as he grinned a disgustingly evil smile towards Andreas before turning to regard the fat one, "this body is but a vessel. It matters not if you destroy it, I will return."

"Now enough of this babble", sneered the lich, "I have more pressing matters to attend to than to waste time dealing with a witless hunter and his hapless lackey. It was a mistake to allow you to live those decades ago, Andreas, a mistake a shall now rectify."

"You slaughtered my comrades, creature, and left me alive to tell the tale. I have had years to remember that horrid night and to plot your downfall", Andreas spoke as he glared at the lich with contempt, "no, it is you who will be destroyed this night."

"Hahahahaha...very well, Andreas", replied the lich, "come then...show me whether or not you have improved your feeble skills. For your sake, I hope you have."

As if in reply, Andreas stretched out his hands and a beam of light emerged from his fingertip heading straight at the lich. But, the lich was already in the motions of a spell, and a wall of tortured, wailing spirits rose up in front of him. The ray of light blasted against the moaning wall, it's energy dissipating against the crying souls.

As the wall rose, the lich turned his attention to the fat one, who had just cast a lightning bolt at him. The bolt of lightning connected with the lich, but the energy just fizzled around the monster doing no damage whatsoever.

"Fat fool! Lightning cannot harm me! Your stupidity will be your death", shouted the lich as a ray of black energy shot out from his index finger at the corpulent man, and hit him square in his chest. His eyes grew wide as his once vibrant flesh turned a deathly white. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. His face contorted in a mix of fear and pain, the corpulent mage fell dead to the ground.

Suddenly, the spirit wall moaned loudly, as if in incredible pain, as a large fire erupted from the other side. The wall vanish after the attack to reveal a maddened Andreas and the library around him covered in the flames from his fireball spell.

The lich's laughed as he saw the book burn, "You more of fool than I had thought, Andreas. So consumed are you with vengeance, that you would risk these tomes and codexes."

Andreas said nothing, but held his hand aloft and a pillar of flame came down from the heavens, bursting through the library's roof and striking the lich.
The lich roared in pain as the mystical fires burned what remained of his body. But, what pained him more than the burning flames was the sight of the tome he had come to collect catch fire and burn into nothingness.

"NO! You fool! What have you done", screamed the lich as he watched the tome turn into ash before him.

"Consider it the first part of your torment, Charaun. You will feel it a thousand fold by the time I am finished with you."

The crimson fires in Charaun's eyes flared brightly, as though they were two evil stars burning in the blackness of space.

"Torment? You speak to me of torment!? You will come to know the true definition of the word, dotard!"

Charaun's voice rose to a loud cry, which became a shrill keen, which turned into a vile wailing. Andreas screamed in agony and dropped his staff as he fell to his knees, clutching his ears. Though he screamed as loud as he had ever screamed in his life, his cry remained drowned out by the unholy wail coming from the lich.

A group of city guards and make shift firefighters heard the wailing as they stood out front of the burning library trying to douse the flames. They too fell to their knees and clutched their skulls in extreme pain.

Soon the wailing ended, and all those who had heard it lay dead. Their eyes open wide in horror and their mouths agape as if they still had more screams of anguish in their lifeless forms.

Moving quickly to stand over the dead Andreas, Charaun pulled a black diamond from his robes and, knelling down, held it over the body. Reciting an incantation under his breath, greenish-blue energy began to seep from Andreas' body and into the diamond. When all the energy was gathered, Charaun stood once more and held the diamond in front of his face and chuckled.

Inside the stone, if one looked closely, they could see the spirit of Andreas moaning is sorrow as his soul was trapped in the black void of the gem, unable to go to his rightful afterlife.

"Now", glowered the lich as he peered at the stone, "let us talk about torment..."

In a flash of white light, Charaun disappeared, leaving a host of dead bodies and a great library burning to the ground in his wake.

 

[Kaboom]

Roorish, the Lost Elf

I kept my dark hair over my ears so as to not betray my elvish heritage as I approached the Spanish Inn. It was dimly let, and out of the way and I figured I could rent a room for a half floring. I didn't have much money on me and while I generally loathed currency, I recognized that it had its uses. The inn keeper was a stout man, his belly abnormally large and he twirled his dark mustache as I approached.

"One Florings or the horse," he said without hesitation.

"I have but half a floring," Roorish replied. "And I have had a long journey. Could you please reduce your rate?"

" One floring or the horse," he replied steadfastly. Roorish pursed his lips. Could the age of hospitality and chivalry be so dead that a room could not be spared for being minus half a floring!

Roorish lifted his arm and showed his bracelet to the inn keeper. "This bracelet requires you give me lodging for one night gratis under order of the Sacred Tabernacle of the Righteous and Innocent Knights Errant. To deny me a room is to rescind the Kinights' assitance for the rest of your days, your sons days, and your son's son's days."

The inn-keeper looked at him and then his bracelet. "I suspect it a forgery," he finally said.

"Would you rest your livlihood on a suspicion," Roorish replied.

"Here's the key...free of charge."

"Half a floring doesnt sound so bad now does it?"

 

[Green Lantern]

Chapter the First

“Smoke Over The Forest”

​

A chilled breeze whistles through the quiet streets of Kalmar, Svealand. It is the middle of a brisk autumn afternoon, and the townspeople are secluded in the buildings of their trade or tending the farms near the town. As a hooded stranger approached the cobbled main street, a raven cawed. The stranger walked slowly into 'Loki's Flask' a dimly lit and particularly dirty tavern, just off the main road.

Though it was early afternoon, there were several people nestled at the bar and at tables littering the main room. A skald sat in a dark corner of the room, quietly plucking his kantele while singing. The hooded man sat on an empty stool near the end of the bar.

The bartender gave him a look through his single eye, the other one permanently shut by a large scar, and his grizzled, whiskered face looked very unpleasant as he growled, "Arr ye are new here, ain't ye? What be ye poison?"

"...I'll take the strongest mead that you have."

"Looks to me that ye have had a rough time."

The strangers face had several small cuts, and a deep bruise on one cheek. His skin was covered in dirt, and dark bags hung under his eyes, if not for the fact that his chin was hairless, one may have thought him to be a beggar.

"Yea, I have had troubles of late. Lost my family."

Tears welled in his eyes as he thought about the events that had transpired over the past fortnight.

*---------------------------*--------------------------------*

The stranger appeared much differently in his memories, now a clean, and regal looking, golden haired elf; he was crouched, examining the recent tracks of a black bear.

"Come Nenia, the bear traveled north, it's not far ahead of us now."

The stranger beckoned to another, his fraternal twin sister; to follow him as he quickly followed the path made by the bear.

"There, brother. She lies in the clearing just ahead."

The female elf pointed to a large black bear drinking from the stream in the clearing. Her brother notched an arrow in his ashwood bow, and drew back the hemp string. The arrow flew straight and buried itself into the bear's neck. The bear roared in pain and fury and turned to search for it's attacker. Both Sil-Kano and Nenia blended into the underbrush as two more arrows flew and found their marks in the bear's throat. The bear growled again, but obviously slowed in its approach. Two more arrows found their marks, and the bear fell forward with a thud. Before they could celebrate their kill and thank the god of the hunt, Ullr, though, Nenia let out a gasp of fear.

"Brother! To the east! Look!"

Sil-Kano looked to the east, towards the center of the forest. His normally brave features were overcome with fear and dread, as he started to run back towards the elven village and his family's palace. The sight of smoke billowing from what could be his home inspired speed the likes of which he couldn't have foreseen. When he and Nenia reached the village however, grief overcame them. The palace of their family was naught more than burned timber. Toror, chief counselor to the king and his family lay his hand on Sil-Kano's shoulder, turning him away from the ruins.

"Sil, I'm so sorry."

"Were they? Kalina? Tarianar?"

"... I... I'm sorry Sil. Their bodies were found minutes ago. Along with your mother and father's. I'm so sorry."

"What happened? Who did this?"

"... They think it was an accident, sire."

"The people, how much do they know?"

"Most saw us carry King Aran's body from the ashes, sire. They await an announcement from you, as you are now thier king."

"Yes, I see. Gather the council immediately. We should have haste in this matter."

As Toror went off in search of the council of Iantian to perform the blood ceremony to confirm the heir's place at the throne, Sil-Kano collapsed to his knees and wept for his parents, wife and daughter, all taken before their time.

*--------------------------*------------------------------*

"Here's your mead, it looks to me that ye have a story to tell, and I would liken to listen to it."

"Yes, perhaps I do."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The full moon beamed it's pale light down upon the craggy castle, it's dilapidated spires, buttresses, and walls glowing in the eerie light. A wolf-like howl rang out into the chilly night, but the monstrous cry was not heard by the lich who maneuvered down the spiral stairway towards the catacombs of the keep.

Exiting to the floor of a large dimly light by the green glow of magically burning torches, Charaun moved towards the large wooden doors on the other side, not paying any heed to the scattered bones that littered the floor. Carved into the stone above the door was a strange, arcane rune, however the symbol did nothing as the lich pushed open the loudly creaking doors and entered the adjacent room.

Another large room, it held more of the same magically burning torches as found in the previous one, which stood in steel holders along the rows of stone pillars on either side of the room. Still, the other edges of the room remained dark, and many pairs of yellow glowing eyes shined in the blackness.
The pillars led up to an alter that was as extravagant as it was horrid, adorned with the the polished skulls of humanoid creatures and adorned in a cloth-like covering of large, red colored feathers. At this alter knelt a petite woman with her hands raised to the sky holding a goblet made out of gold and shaped to look like a screaming skull. The woman could be heard whispering prayers to some dark figure under her breath, and the goblet began to glow. As her voice rose, a blue flame appeared above the goblet, crackling and burning, but emitting no heat.

Finally, after several more minutes of reciting her prayer, the the flame burst in a silent, small fireball that did no damage to the woman or the alter. The blue burst of light was enough to illuminate the room, albeit briefly. If one looked towards the darkened corner, they could see that the yellow eyes belonged to gargoyle-like creatures, but they were not gargoyles. They were nabassu, devils of Baator and servants of the Demon Lord of the Undead, Orcus.

As the flame disappeared, the woman slowly brought the goblet down to her lips and drank it's contents. Placing the goblet on the alter, the woman rose to her feet.

"Greetings, my lord", she questioned as she turned around to regard Charaun, who had remained silent and still through the ritual.

She was a beautiful creature, by human standards. She was small, but shapely, and her dark, luscious hair flowed down and curled around her shoulders. Her pale skin was unblemished and smooth, appearing as though it were made of the finest silk. Her light green eyes shined with deadly desire, but, behind her rose red lips lay a pair of long fangs signifying her true nature.

She was a vampire.

"Greetings to you, my dear Anastasia", replied Charaun with a courteous bow.

"I see I missed the ritual."

"Yes", Anastasia replied in her honeyed voice, "but do not worry, you did not miss much. I merely conversed with a minion of the master, nothing more."

"And did you discover it's location?"

The vampire smiled, showing her ivory fangs and the blood still staining them from the goblet's contents, "I did."

"Excellent", laughed Charaun, the lich's chuckle echoing eerily off the stone walls of the room.

"Where is the tome?"

"It is in the small library of a village in Southern Scotland, called Ardara. How it arrived to be in such a hovel, I do not know. I suspect the mortals do not know what it is they truly have."

"All the more reason to take it from their undeserving hands", stated Charaun as the crimson light in his eyes shinned brightly.

"Demons! Come", roared the lich as he spun around to regard the shadowy corner and the seven nabassu demons emerging from it.

"Go to the town of Ardara and bring me that book. Slaughter all who get in your way!"

The demons smiled vile grins at the latter comment of potential butchery.

"Do not fail me! Now go!"

The demons roared and disappeared in a flash of yellow light, re-materializing outside the castle thanks to their innate ability to teleport. With speed to rival a peregrine falcon, the demons made all haste towards the Brittish Isles. Within a day they would reach the Scottish town of Ardara, and carnage would begin...

 

[Byrd Man]

(IC: Darius The Bold)

The wild boar rubs his tusk against the tree in the forest. Unbeknownst to the animal, a set of eyes watches and stalks his prey. With feet as silent as the whispering winds. A hairy hand picks an arrow out of a quiver and draws the bowsting back tight.


He lets the sting loose and the arrow flys through the air, striking the boar in the neck. It lets out a squeel as it falls to the ground.

"Haha. There will be pork tonight."

Hoovesteps are heard as a fellow Centaur approaches.

"Darius!"

David, Darius' closest friend. Comes to a stop by the prince. A concerned look on his face.

"What's the problem, my friend?"

"It's your father! He's calling for you."

Darius turns to the dying boar.

"Take that to Delilah."

With that, Prince Darius goes to a full out gallop as he heads towards the Centaur villiage..

********
​

King Phillip was on his deathbed. The proud Centaur had ruled over his people for close to two centuries, he had been spry up until the last twenty years. Now at the age of three hundred and eighty-eight. The age had caught up with him.

"Darius.....my son."

Darius carefully trots into the earthly decorated royal bedchamber. Phillip laid on the bed with his legs hanging off. The only people in the room were Queen Helena sat at Phillip's bedside while the villiage physician and Phillip's advisor, Bartholomew looks on.

"Darius, darling. Your father would like to speak to you."

"Yes, mother. David told me."

"I'll wait in the hall."

The physican leaves the room, only Bartholomew looks on intently.

"Come closer."

Darius trots to his father's side, leaning in to him to a point where only he can be heard by Darius.

"You must leave the villiage. Find other Centaurs. Only then can we live on. Go to Europe and Asia. There you will find others."

King Phillip breaks out in a fit of coughing as flem flys through the air.

"But, father. Why do you send me on this mission now? So soon to your demise?"

"Because, through your deeds. We can live to see another day, you will just not save your tribe. But, you will save your race."

Phillip tries his best to keep his eyes only, he nods off to sleep as the three other people in the room look at one another.

"What shall I do? Mother, Bartholomew?"

"You must do as your father requests."

Bartholomew looks of into space before looking at the two.

"Your father is a wise man, even in his twlight. Survival is the main objection. You must go."
​

*************
​

Darius holds the foal above his head, the young one looks down at him blankly.

"Marcus, look at me."

"He won't look. He doesn't even know his name yet."

Darius sets the young foal down and turns to the woman beside him. Delilah, his wife and love of his life looked on as their child clumsily walks away.

"You are right, darling....The sun is starting to rise. I must go."

"I know. Please be safe. The human's world is one of violence and torture."

"I know. I studied the human world as part of my training."

Delilah bites her lip as she clops up to her husband. The two embrace and share a passionate kiss as he pulls away.

"I love you."

"And I you."

Darius slowly trots away. The sound of David's hooves echo as he trots up to his friend and trots beside him.

"Darius, we must hurry. Time is of the esscence."

He looks back at the small villiage one last time, every candle has gone out as daylight fast approaches through the woods. He hears the cry of a young foal go out from the villiage and his heart aches with grief. Darius knows that foal's cry, he held him in my arms the day he was born. He's second in line for the throne.

"Little Marcus, but David. I cannot leave my wife and son like this, Marcus hasn't even gotten his first winter coat yet."

David gives him a solom look as he looks back towards the woods.

"If we don't go, sir. The Centaurs will cease to exsist. Many a young foal wiill be without winter coats..."

"As always, you have found the right words. Come then, let's go."

With that, the two of them head into the woods and northward towards the human's world and the unknown.
​

 

[Green Lantern]

Chapter the Second

“A Stranger’s Story”

​

​

"Here's your mead, it looks to me that ye have a story to tell, and I would liken to listen to it."

"Yes, perhaps I do."

"My name is Slieken Aransen, not long ago I would have been the heir to the throne of a small, but noble kingdom."

"What kingdom be that?"

Slieken kept this information to himself for the same reason his hood remained up, covering his ears, as there were prejudices among many humans for the elvenkind.

"One that matters not to the story. All that truly matters is that I am now an exile from my people. For naught but two weeks ago my life crumbled before me. Whilst on a hunting expedition with my twin sister, we saw an inferno of smoke and flame rising from where our home lay. We returned to find the palace burned down and our family dead. Nenia fled the scene immediately in mourning, I have not seen my twin since. I remained, as the people would look to me as their new king in this crisis. As the council of elders convened for my coronation, a mysterious stranger interrupted. He claimed to be my father's lost twin, and therefore rightful king with my father's death. As proof, he submitted himself with me to the blood test."

"Er, what be a blood test?"

"An ancient and sacred ritual of my people, it is a sure way of determining lineage and blood purity. The stranger, Waara's, blood was one degree purer than mine, making him heir one generation prior to me. Within days, his cruel manipulative tongue had cut into the minds of our army, convincing them that I was to blame for the deaths of the rest of the royal family. Before I was chased from the kingdom though, I did discover a hidden tomb added to the temple undercroft. A room dedicated to the dark magics, and appearing to have been a living space for some time now. That would explain Waara's control over the masses already, and the smell of death that surrounds him. I fled my home less than a fortnight ago, to avoid swinging from the gallows for the murder of my beloved family. This is what brings me to your coastal town, and to your tavern, barman."

"Ar, I was right. That war a story needin' to be told. But need you be keepin' yer hood up all night, good sir? We be friendly now, no shame in showing yer face to me."

Comforted by the grizzled old man's words, Slieken threw back his cloak revealing his golden hair, now a shade darker from life in the wilderness, and his pointed ears. A woman nearby shrieked in fear.

"AEIEE! Filthy! Pointed eared near human devil spawn!"

"There is nothing near human about me, madam. I would hate to lower myself to such standards."

The man who was sitting with the woman stood up. A brute of a man, he stood at nearly six and a half feet, and of full body.

"Noone speaks to my wife that way, you miserable pissant."

"I shall speak to anyone who regards me as devil spawn however I feel like, and you are no different. Tell me, do draughts of intelligence booster not work on simple minded twits as yourself, or do you just choose not to use them?"

"You filthy, slimy, half-breed, I'll gut you like the pig you are."

The man pulled a jagged six inch knife from a sheath on his belt and lunged at Slieken. The elf moved swiftly to his right while gracefully drawing a glowing silver blade from its own scabbard hanging at his waist, and pulling his bow from off his shoulder. As the brute lurched into the oak bar, burying his knife into the dark wood, Slieken leaned in and used his bow to cut out the man's knees and bring his face into the cold dirt floor. Not wasting a second's time, Slieken brought his right knee into the small of the giant's back, driving him further into the dirt, and his sword across the back of the man's neck.

"I am half nothing. I am a pureblood elf and proud of my heritage. You will stop slandering my race, or next time I will not be so kind as to just leave a scar on your neck. Take this pain and spilled blood as your warning, and leave me to my own peace."

Slieken stood and backed away from the man, as the brute stood up and rubbed the cut on his neck.

"Hafþór, are you going to allow this in yer tavern?"

"Way I seen it, Olan, yer the one that started it. All he did was reveal himself to the comfort of friends, and ye attacked him, first verbally then physically."

The man looked to the barkeep in disgust, an ugly snarl on his face.

"Then yer no better than him you filthy blood-traitor. And you, if I be meeting ye in the wild, ye won't be so quick to gain an advantage, ye disgusting tainted blood cur. This won't be the last ye be seeing of Olan Stoneshield."

At the words him and you, Olan's voice became a nearly indecipherable growl, and he picked up his wife while backing toward the door, as she had fainted during the fight.

"For your sake, you best hope it was. I'd hate to have your poisonous blood stain my sword a second time."

"Foul disgusting beast, belongs in the forest with the rest of his like, and the other filthy animals."

Olan muttered to himself as he walked out of the tavern.

"I apologize for him. He's a messy violent drunkard. I've tried to ban him from the establishment, but he's got his hand in every taxman's pocket. I have to allow him to drink here, if I be wanting to stay open."

"Tis not your fault that he's a racist pig, Hafþór I appreciate your kindness toward me. Thank you kindly."

"Er, the way I see, ye deserve a break. Stay the night, on me, and in the morn, I'll see to it that yer on me brother's ship to the oversea."

"I thank you again, your kindness is fitting of a people whom are not all like that racist beast, people like you make me keep hope for the futures of your races kingdoms, for we elves are growing fewer and more seclusive. The world has become yours, and people such as yourself will keep it balanced and right."

 

[Green Lantern]

Chapter the Third​

[FONT=&quot]“Bartender’s Grace”[/FONT]​

"I thank you again, your kindness is fitting of a people whom are not all like that racist beast, people like you make me keep hope for the futures of your races kingdoms, for we elves are growing fewer and more seclusive. The world has become yours, and people such as yourself will keep it balanced and right."

That night, Slieken slept better than he had in a fortnight, his dreams pleasant ones of his time spent with his daughter and wife, not the nightmares of their painful fiery deaths. He slept peacefully and somberly until the sunlight streamed through the window in the morning. Donning his leather armor and his cloak, he pulled the hood once more over his head to hide his ears from the rest of the prejudiced public. One violent encounter was more than enough for him. He sat at a table in the tavern for a hearty breakfast of eggs and steak, and was joined in his meal by Hafþór.

“So what be ye plans for ye travels?”

“I plan to go in search of the origins of some of the dark artifacts I found in my ‘uncle’s’ possession. If I can find out where they were imbibed thier dark power, I can determine how to destroy that dark power.”

“I wish ye the best of luck, and do hope to meet you on your travel home.”

“Thank you Hafþór you have been a generous host, and a great friend.”

Slieken slid eight gold coins toward the bartender. Hafþór gave him a glare and slid them back.

“A king’s money is no good here, Lord Slieken. I refuse to accept payment for ye stay, especially after last evening’s trouble.”

“Again, you are too kind to a broken elf, Hafþór. Thank you.”

As Slieken packed a few days’ rations into his rucksack, he left two gold bits on his bed. He refused to allow Hafþór to give him a free night’s stay. The streets of the town were once more empty and deserted as Slieken made his way to the docks, and Hafþór’s brother’s ship, Seaborne Valkyrie.

 

[Johnny Blaze]

Balloch MacDonald wiped the sweat from his brow and let out a long, deep sigh. It had been a long day, but the field was finally sowed. He was about to head into town and get himself a cold mug of mead, but something caught his eye on the horizon. He couldn't make out what it was - a flock of birds, perhaps? - as the setting sun disturbed his vision. It wasn't until the forms drew closer that his eyes widened in horror.

Balloch tried to run and warn the town, but a globe of darkness enveloped him. Not being able to see where he was going, Balloch tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the earth. The globe of darkness disappeared, and Balloch looked up and screamed in fear as the nabassu demon swooped down onto him, it's long talons piercing deep into his chest and abdomen. Balloch's horrifying screams were cut off as the nabassu sunk it's tusk-like fangs deep into his neck and tore out his throat...

The town was small, so they did not have a militia or mages skilled enough to deal with a plague of demons. They fled and fought, but, in either case, the nabassu slaughtered them. Within the ten minutes, not a single man, woman, or child of the population of sixty that comprised Ardara was among the living. The demons began to devour them, bones and all. After the demons had their fill, they returned to the library, entering the room where they had killed the scholar, and recovering the tome their master desired, it's magical properties practically calling to them.

After having retrieved the book, the devils silently set off into the crisp night air, returning back to their dark master...

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The afternoon sun could not penetrate the gloomy clouds as they released a torrent of heavy rain onto the Black Forest, and the castle of Warlock's Rest. Lightning lit up the dreery sky frequently, and a thunderous bolt cracked close by, striking the top of a large pine and setting the tree ablaze.
Drenched from the rain, but not letting it slow them down, the nabassu dived into the main courtyard of the keep and were greeted by a large monstrous assembly of armored skeletal warriors and floating wraiths, the rain drops passing through them as though they were nothing more than wisps of black smoke.

A frightening visage moved towards the demons, the rain beating hard against his armor like a drum. The armored man stopped in front of the demons and crossed his arms over his chest, his bright red eyes glaring at them from the shadows of his helm.

"I trust all went accordingly", the man said in a rasping voice, clearly not human.

Naturally, came the reply in his monstrous mind, the lead demon replied to him telepathically as it held up a what appeared to be a large book wrapped in layers of cloth, the humans stood no chance against us. They were slaughtered like sheep.

They were delicious, smiled another demon as it hopped up and down in excitement as it recalled the feast they had.

"Control yourself, dog", commanded the armored humanoid. The demon hissed in reply, but obeyed the knight's command and returned to his place.

Turning his attention back to the lead devil, the knight issued another command.

"Give me the tome", he stated with an outstretched hand.

Do you think we went on this errand so you could reap the glory by giving this folio to the master, death knight, snarled the lead demon.

"Do not confuse me for some one who cares about your trivial concerns, creature", replied the death knight, "I would have no qualms with sending you all back to Baator right now. Anastasia and her servants could simply summon more of your ilk. Ones who would perhaps be more intelligent than to challenge the general of Lord Charaun's armies."

Without a single motion or audible command, the skeletal soldiers and wraiths moved towards the demons. Outnumbered five to one, the lead demon shouted out in his native Infernal dialect, <"Enough!">

Tossing the wrapped tome to the death knight, the demon hissed in his language, <"We will not forget this slight, death knight.">

The death knight paused as he stared at the creatures, their yellow eyes ablaze with hatred.

<"As you wish">, the knight stated in the demon's tongue as he turned to walk into the castle, the wrapped tome held tightly under his arm.
As he entered the blackness of the keep, the horde of undead minions descending upon the demons ferociously, cutting them down and sending them back to the Nine Hells screaming...

 

[JinnSato]

The sound of bouncy musical notes can be heard all through the plans. The music is being played on a lute, and have almost a hypnotic sound. When people hear it they are filled with hope and joy.

A lone ranger rides through these plans playing this music for reasons unknown. The only thing the people of the land are for sure is his name. Linken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh goodness!!! Someone please help me!!!"

A man runs through the empty plains in panic. He is being chased by a small group of goblins. "C'mon boys! Get him! Were not going to miss out on another meal."

The man trips and hurts his leg. He tries to get up and move but can't. The goblins close in on him. "He, he, he, chow down boys!!" One of the goblins say.

They move in for the kill but stop. They hear galloping. They turn around to see a elf on a horse in strange green cloths.

When he sees the sight of the goblins and the man he stops and looks.
"What do you want?? Elf??!!"

"Oh nothing.. I'm just passing through."

"Well keep passing fool!" Barked a goblin.

"Please good sir help me!!" The man pleaded.

"I will... For thirty gold."

"But sir... I... I don't have money I am poor."

"Well than I'm sorry I guess you're goblin chow than. Shame that is." He starts to ride off.

"Please sir!!! Don't leave me." He has desperate look in his eye. The goblin continue on their prey.

The elf looks back at him. "Fine then. But for that ring on your finger."

The man looks at his finger. "But this.. this is my... Fine you can have it just kill these brutes."

"Alright than. Looks like you got a hero." He pulls out his sword and points it at the goblins. "You've just made your last mistake..ELF!!"
They lung at him. He makes a quick slash at them they dodge it and come from behind. He turns around to face them but slips and falls on his back. The goblins laugh. Ha gets up and runs at them but they move out the way. He trips again but as he fall he impels one of them. "YOU WILL DIE!!" One of the monsters yells and runs at him. The elf jumps back and trips yet again and brings his sword down on the goblin. The last goblin throws a dagger at him. He falls back in cover. But drops his sword. The last goblin lunges at him pulling out a dagger. The elf quickly grabs his sword and points it up. The goblin is impaled by the sword and slides down to the hilt. The elf get up and pushes the beast off. He puts his sword away.

He walks up to the man an helps him up. He begins to cautiously take of his ring. But the elf stops him.

"Don't worry about it old man. I found something more valuable on those goblins." He hold up a small pouch and shakes it. He thin pours it's contents into his hand. Gold falls out. He then jumps back on his horse and rides off. The man gets up and sees a few gold pieces on the ground. Enough to feed his family. He never found out if the elf had left them on accident or not but he was forever great full.

 

[Kaboom]

Roorish, The Lost Elf


I slept as soundly as possible as I could. I was a warrior, a warrior continuously hunted by the Sacred Tabernacle of the Righteous and Innocent Knights Errant.

The reason was that in my posession waswhat had come to be known as the celestial parchment. I had absconded it with it from the Tabernacle's library in the heart of the Roman Empire. It would be a lengthy discourse to explain the contents of that parchment, suffice it to say, it made me a marked man.

I was used to being marked. I was after all known famously as the Ghost of Golden Glade. That however, is a tale for another time.

For now, I, Roorish, heir to not much more than a farm land in my home country, was considered an outlaw, a traitor to the Roman Empire, and an outcast son of to my band of elves.

I had always been marked different--from my Ebony hair to the tatoo on the back of my neck, mine fate was always that to have been mocked and ridiculed. The harassment did not break my spirit, instead it strengthened it. No elf had accomplished that which I had.

I slew the grendel monster, and in turn curried favor with the Norse people. I learned ancient Egyptians magics, and while unable to cast them, was quite adept at protecting myself against all manner of magical encroahments. The eye of Arcane Norum was quite a gift from pharoah.

I had even been to Celestia itself. One of the few mortals who had visited inside its gates. Of course I was forbidden from ever returning, although in my posession was the nail. It would allow me to apparate into Celestia at my fancy, and provided me with a certain amount of luck on this plane.

And my spanish stallion, named Viento, had never lost a race in which it had particiapted. Famed the fastest horse in the world, most were unaware of its true nature. Still--

A bolt of lightning challenged through my window striking the wall of the room I had been given. I emerged from my bed, and stared at the wall under the dim candlelight.

Carved into the wall was a short stanza-

Nigh unstoppable he is in what
he comes to take
Destruction follows in his wake.

"By Finn-" I whispered as i read what had been etched on the wall by the hunderbolt, sliding my hands across the words. Then my eyes fell downward. Not only had the thunderbolt left me the cryptic message, but a gift as well.

A small holly of mistletoe.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

But, as I have already stated, my name and origin are insignificant; that is not why I am here. I am here to educate, but still I am no scholar. I am here to enlighten, yet still I am no preacher. And I am here to open your eyes and your mind, to worlds and adventure you have only dreamed of, without making me a prophet. I am a humble Bard, at your service. And as is my service to entertain, this I shall do. And as is my service to inform, I shall do.

Are you listening closely? For first I will tell you stories of three lives, three different, yet similar worlds. But before I begin, let me reveal to you that these are no ordinary fairytales. No. You will not see the charming prince and the young and fair princess living happily ever after. You will not always see good triumph over evil, for we live in harsh times. Forgive me for I am not here to tease. But you will experience the pain, the sorrow, the grief, as well as the drops of happiness and joy as I tell my tale. I know these stories too well, and hold them dearly too much to lie.

If you seek happy endings, then I am afraid here you will find yourself lost. I have lived...seen the world long enough to come here now and tell you such a thing is achieved by few, yet pursued by many. As I am honest with you now, so shall I be honest with my tales. But of course, such a thing is easy when the tales I speak of are past tense, already passed through the Sands of Time, already woven into the Threads of Fate. Now do you see why I have been called many things such as a scholar, preacher, and prophet? Really? Neither do I.

And so begins my song, for it's rhythm and beat help move the story forth. You will not notice it, for you will become entranced. But you need not worry, I do not deal in enchantments of trickery. Such an ability are pursued by only the most foolish and weak-minded of men. Shall I begin now? Listen closely to the wind. Listen...as I begin to recite my poem of the wind. Are you listening? No? Listen closer. For it is the only ingredient I need.

Pay no attention to the plucking of my strings, just keep listening to the wind. If you fail to do so, you will be unable to hear my song unless you listen to the wind. Can you finally hear it? Can you hear my grand crescendo? Good. Now become lost in it.

"And so begins my Ballad of Saints."​

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

...In the forgotten lands of Caldoria, my first story takes place. Now, what is merely ruins, was once a civilization of elves eons and eons in the past. These were no ordinary elves, no. These elves, a group that started off small as it broke away from their Woodland cousins, grew high in numbers, secluded from most of the world by magic.

Some would claim, that Phantasmal Magic, a rare art of illusions and deception to the eye, was what these elves worshiped most. But it would be proven obvious that the very reason of this magic has fooled those thinkers. For this is how they cloaked their very realm; although, it was not always like this. But what the truth really was, that these elves were bound to almost not one art, but almost all the arts; say for the few that were declared forbidden and too dangerous. But every now and then, generation after generation would choose to challenge such rules, causing a lack of order in their civilization; a challenge not looked well upon by the Council of Elders. But it wasn't always intentional. Sometimes Fate takes the matter into its own hands, something even the Council of Elders has no control over.

But forgive me, for I fear I may have carried on a tad more than intended. However, my first tale trails far back into the past. But before I can even begin there, I must track back even more; to a time before its time. A time when Caldoria seemed to have been in its Golden Age.

***

Deception, jealousy, and greed are the roots of all evil. These three agents are swift and cunning. They hide and consume people from within until enough is accumulated and they explode and cause mayhem. All wars and disputes began because of one of the three agents of darkness.

Years after the war between elves and men, peace was finally restored; however, some did not believe this peace would last. Some thought that the other race was not to be trusted and would eventually turn on them. And so, the great wizards of that time casted a spell in unison, created an illusion that blanketed their realm, hiding it from the rest of the world.

Jealousy would become a powerful tool that would cause yet another war; but not between elves and humans. Such a thing as this could cause havoc between man and his fellow man, elf and his kin. This time history would not repeat itself; elf and man would have one common enemy to defeat. They would have to keep the peace they made despite the things the agents of jealousy will do to trick them.

Two brothers, fraternal twins, were believed to be destined for great things. These elves believe that when a female gives birth to a set of twins it is a sign from the gods. White hair is a sign of wisdom and silver hair is believed to be a sign of strength. If a baby is born with silver eyes it is said that they will be blessed by the gods and be granted great power. However, if a baby were to be born with gold eyes then it is said that they would achieve a power greater than even the gods.

The mother of the twins, Queen of Caldoria, had beautiful babies; one she named Lance and one she named Magus. Lance was born with white hair and silver eyes while Magus was born with silver hair and silver eyes. The council of elders kept a good eye on the twins.

Growing up, neither twin proved that he was the better twin. Finding out which one was the dominant one was very essential in choosing who becomes heir to the throne. Even in competitions things always seemed to even out so that neither of the two had an advantage.

Perhaps one competition in particular, a father’s love, was desired most to prevail. It was not until their 18th birthday that one surpassed the other in a duel. Magus, born with silver hair, defeated Lance in a fencing match and everyone made a great deal about it. The Council that very day began making assumptions about the future, believing Magus to be the dominant one.

After that day, the two brothers became very competitive; trying to beat the other at what they were best at. Lance, with his immense wisdom was naturally better in the art of magic which his father greatly admired; this infuriated Magus. Magus felt that if studied to its fullest, magic could overcome any obstacle. Lance did not share this same trait of jealousy. He admired his brother for his strength and skills and trained vigorously so that he too could acquire such attributes.

But the more and more Lance advanced in his training, the more jealousy and rage consumed Magus. He believed he was the superior one and thought that Lance wasted his talent by not studying the arts to the fullest. Magus’ jealousy clouded his reason and he soon began to study a dangerous art of magic. This art was one that few people could master and an art the elders feared; Magus believed that Lance was a coward for not studying the black art. In present tongue, this art is called Necromancy.

[FONT=&quot]Magus was in the Archives of the Elders one day studying diverse forms and arts of magic. He finally found what he was looking for, the art of black magic. For days and days Magus would be locked up in his atelier surrounded by documents and scrolls that were stacked almost endlessly to the ceiling. The more he read the more he wanted to continue; all he could think about was surpassing Lance.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]A village guard was patrolling the perimeter of the Archives one day when he heard bizarre noises. He walked in and he saw flickers of energy and light emitting from a figure in the archives. After the blinking light seemed to die away the guard saw it was Magus casting the magic, and where once stood a grant plant in the study, was now nothing but black dirt and ash. Little did the guard no, Magus was almost able to conjure up a spell to create a black cloud, stealing life from all that crossed its shadow. In complete shock the guard ran off to the Council telling them what he saw. They summoned Lance at once and told him about his brother. Lance did not believe that Magus would try such a thing, for they were both well aware of the risk in using the black art.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot] One day Lance decided he would discover the real truth on his own, and checked on his brother who was in the Archives as he always was and saw a red flash emerge out of no where. He walked into the archives and there he saw his twin brother gazing at his hands in joy and excitement; Magus was able to emit red lightning bolts from his hands, surrounded by burned books and scrolls, done by his own doing. Magus then told his brother happily that he has learned another powerful spell of the black arts. Lance told his brother that to study the black art was forbidden; for no one has ever been able to control it and it has only brought forth destruction and no more.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]After arguing with his brother about studying the forbidden magic Lance left his brother in the Archives in disgust. Magus continued his studies hoping to master the black art. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Two days later, the Council arranged a duel between the two brothers to see their progress in their studies. The brother that won the duel would receive a family heirloom; a pendant passed down from generation to generation. It is said that the bearer of the heirloom would be blessed by the gods with much fortune; a true honor within the elvish community. All eyes were on the twin brothers as the duel was about to start...[/FONT]​

​

 

[Green Lantern]

Chapter the Fourth​

“Southeastward Bound ‘Cross The Sea”

​

Having left ‘Loki’s Flask’ for the docks, Slieken came across many fine Viking ships, the best of which being the ‘Seaborne Valkyrie.’ This fine vessel was owned by HafÞor’s brother Fahnor. At first glance Fahnor looked very similar to his brother but as though the ravages of age and a hard life had affected him much less. His long black hair only spotted through with gray, whereas his brother’s had been gray spotted through with black. His black beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes burned bright blue as the sea he spent his life sailing upon.

“Aye, are ye the one my brother sent me a message about?”

“That would be I good sir, can you spare me passage to der Deutchesland? I have business to attend to in der Schwarzwald.”

“I can take ye as far as Neustadt, but twill be six Flemings for a travel fee.”

“Thank you, for I am sure I can find my own way from there.”

“But do me one favor, stay your hood throughout your voyage, I don’t want me no trouble on the way.”

“Nor do I sir, in fact, I shall stay secluded for the entirety of the trip.”

The fortnight of travel was uneventful, as Slieken kept true to his word, and did not stray from his room. Doing so neither he nor Olan, whom he had encountered so violently at the bar, knew that the other was aboard the vessel. Slieken vanished from the vessel before they came to dock, his fare left on the bed along with a note in his own elegant script.

“Fahnor,
I have left the grace of your vessel, before she made ashore. Doing so will make certain you are not seen harboring my kind, as we are rather unliked in these parts. On the bed is a bar of gold, worth two hundred Flemings. Please split this bounty with your brother, for both of you have done me kind service and I thank you both for all you have done.
Sincerely,
Sil-Kano, rightful king of Tiveden
-Alternatively-
Slieken, ranger of the forest

Fahnor was overjoyed by this finding, and he wept tears of joy at this new wealth.

 

[Green Lantern]

Chapter the Fifth

​

&#8220;A Deadly Encounter On The Streets of Neustadt&#8221;

​

Slieken pulled himself to the docks from the cold seawater, thankful that his rucksack was lined to protect it&#8217;s contents. Pulling his hood back over his golden hair, he basked in the rays of the bright autumn sun. His cloak dried almost immediately, for it was Elven in make, for the use of a ranger. Crafted for warmth, combat and stealth, it exhibited some of the finest workmanship in the world. Slieken walked down the crowded central street, lined on both sides with vendors. The merchants were selling everything from sausages to clothing. He finally came upon the building he was in search of, not realizing that he, himself, was the object of another&#8217;s close eye. For Olan had seen the ranger near the docks, and now followed the man who had humiliated him. As the ranger entered &#8220;Der Leicht Huf&#8221; his stalker waited outside.

Slieken entered the stable house to find a small, pot-bellied man behind the counter.

&#8220;&#8217;Aven&#8217;t seen &#8216;ur like round &#8216;ere in &#8216;while, lad.&#8221;

&#8220;My like?&#8221;

&#8220;Arr, But &#8216;ou are a ranger, aintcha?&#8221;

&#8220;Well&#8230; yes, but how did you know?&#8221;

&#8220;Woz one meself long ago. Them days are long past now though, my elf brethren.&#8221;

&#8220;Wait. I never said I was Elven.&#8221;

&#8220;So &#8216;ou din&#8217;t. But trained to look at details, like all our like, I am. Tis &#8216;ur lack of facial hair growth, that give &#8216;ou &#8216;way. But say no more. What are &#8216;ou needing?&#8221;

&#8220;What I need is a good ranger bred horse. One that does not easily tire, but also runs as swift as the southern wind. For I make haste to the Black Forest, south of here.&#8221;

&#8220;It so happens that I have the perfect horse for &#8216;ou. Avalei &#8216;ere is the fines&#8217; horse in all der bundesland. Swift as a summer gale, and she can run fer days if her master be needin&#8217; her to.&#8221;

&#8220;How much?&#8221;

&#8220;Depends &#8216;ow important the quest.&#8221;

&#8220;A kingdom&#8217;s future lies in the balance.&#8221;

&#8220;Is that so? Twenty Flemings and she is &#8216;urs.&#8221;

Slieken tossed twenty gold pieces onto the counter, and the shopkeep grinned.

&#8220;I&#8217;ll &#8216;ave her ready in naught an hour&#8217;s time.&#8221;

Slieken left to explore the rest of the shops, to find something of use for him and for any information to help his quest.

Two blocks down, the main street separated and it appeared that his current path would lead him to nothing more than inns and taverns. Rather than walk another block for a connecting avenue, Slieken cut into an alleyway. It was in this dark confining space that Olan sprung his ambush. Hearing footsteps, Slieken instinctively ducked, and the slash aimed down from his neck to his ribs, grazed naught but his shoulder. Slieken continued into a backward roll, pulling two daggers from the sheaths on his boots. Slashing precisely, he cut at the man&#8217;s calves, and was satisfied to hear a loud pop from each Achille&#8217;s Tendon as they snapped, severed by his blades. The Swede got a look of shock, then pain in his eyes, as his legs quivered and then gave, sending him to the dirt on his knees and elbows.

Slieken kicked the assailant under the ribs, hard enough to flip him onto his back. The elf stared into his attacker&#8217;s face, and his green eyes burned with rage.

&#8220;YOU!?!&#8221; he bellowed, &#8220;I WARNED YOU THAT NEXT TIME WOULD BE YOURDEATH, DID I NOT?!?&#8221; Rage poured from the words.

[FONT=&quot]&#8220;Your mother slagged trolls, elf&#8221; [/FONT]He spit as he said the word elf. [FONT=&quot]&#8220;I fear no man.&#8221;[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
&#8220;Good, because I am NOT a man.&#8221;

[FONT=&quot]&#8220;Right, easy to tell, what with the long girly hair, and the hairless pretty face, woman.&#8221;[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
Even staring his own death in the face, his words dripped contempt. At that moment, he used his last strength to throw his knife. Slieken dodged just in time, the throw aimed between his eyes just tore at his right cheek. Slieken&#8217;s face burned as red as the blood pouring from the cut on his cheek.

&#8220;YOU STUPID PITIFUL MAN!!! I was going to let you live, crippled though you may be.&#8221;

There was the flash of steel, but no discernable movement from the elf though his sword had appeared in his hand. In fact, the only movement in the alley was that of Olan&#8217;s head. It rolled away from its body down toward the sewage drain.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

..Majority of the duel was a stalemate until Magus began to use his newly obtained magic; almost defeating Lance. He summoned what looked like to be a storm cloud, soon to be realized to be much more. As the cloud raged and roared past members of the crow and Council in the very room, they soon began to have their life force sucked away. Lance called down a swift lightning bolt, causing a great big hole in the skyward roof of the building. After attempting to blow away Magus' spell with a harsh wind, Lance realized his use of the Elemental magic arts proved useless.

But Magus was not the only one who trained vigorously. No. While hearing rumors, and before he saw it for himself, Lance started to take up a new form of art. And with his vast wisdom, a natural born gift, he was able to quickly reach the level of an experienced Adept already. When used correctly, this art is almost a perfect match against the black arts of Necromancy. Lance tried to counter attack his spell with a type of holy magic, what is today in our modern tongue referred to as Protective Magic, for within its arts are spells to rejuvinate life and cleanse the body from within.

With the ceiling blasted open by Lance's previous attack, it led him wide open for a most soothing of spells. The very rain from the heavens seemed to have befallen into the kingdom in what was before a clear blue day. As the waters pierced the dark cloud created by Magus' spell, it soon began to wither away, and some of the victims were struck just in time to be healed by Lance's spell. Most were unfortunate, however. The exposure of Magus' life-stealing spell was too swift in the bodies of many. A great deal of elves died that day. But the day was not yet over.

Magus struck Lance with a blazing red firebolt of some sort, knocking him back and causing him excruciating pain. However, even with Magus having knocked down Lance onto the ground, Lance got up on one knee, murmured a spell and out of no where Magus was encircled by a force preventing his muscles mobility. The Council declared the match over when they intervened themselves, channeling a spell to send Magus skyward, endlessly raising to the heavens and falling back down into the hard earth.

The cost of lives was dearly, but the Council believed it to be an accident, not wanting to believe that Magus was able to harnish such raw power as the black arts, when it was forbidden and so hard to learn; although one of the rumors was that the King himself couldn't bare the thought of killing his own son for his crime. Lance was considered the victor, and he received the heirloom. Magus’ jealously towards his brother became hate, and quickly hate turned into greed. The next evening Magus was heading towards the archives when a guard from the castle told him that his father wished to see him.

That night, the King and Queen along with the entire community had a feast in the Great Hall. The King made an announcement claiming Lance to be the next king. Magus abruptly made a loud remark in anger and left the kingdom cursing Lance’s name and claimed he would one day be back, swearing that he would slay his brother's children, and their children, and their children's children. Magus was never seen again. He lust for power corrupted him, the moment he took the black arts under his arm. It can cause a man, even a noble being such as an elf, to commit dark deeds.

***

130 years passed and the King died in battle and Lance finally claimed the throne of Caldoria. Already wed to his beloved Sophia for 125 years, they never had children. Stricken with fear for what his brother would do, they thought it would be best. But the Council said otherwise. When Lance was declared the new King of Caldoria, it was blasphemy for him to not have an heir. So, after fighting and arguing with the Council of Elders about the possibilities and events that could come to pass, eventually they gave in. 130 years since Magus was last seen, there was hope that Magus' threat was just that; a threat to scare his twin brother.

Later that year, Sophia gave birth to a baby boy. The day Kelvin was born was a day praised and feared by the Council; for Kelvin was born with silver hair and gold eyes. The Council feared that if not carefully watched, the infant could become dangerous.

Magus, self-exiled and unseen by the likes of anyone who walked the realm of Caldoria, mastered several different arts and specifically was fascinated with two arts; Druidic and Transformational magic . At first he thought they were weak and insignificant, but he soon discovered the advantages to them. Through his communication with the animals, he was able to set up spies in Caldoria. His eyes and ears were all over the land, known to no one; not even the Council. Word got around throughout all the land that the new King’s baby was born. Magus, discovering the news, traveled to the Kingdom of Caldoria disguised as a crow to spy on the infant. Once he overheard that the baby was born with silver hair, but more importantly golden eyes, he knew the baby would surpass him and Lance later in time.So he knew what he had to do. He had to kill young Kelvin.

He had to kill his own nephew, just like he swore he would...​

​

 

[JinnSato]

The sound of bouncy musical notes can be heard all through the plans. The music is being played on a lute, and have almost a hypnotic sound. When people hear it they are filled with hope and joy.

A lone ranger rides through these plans playing this music for reasons unknown. The only thing the people of the land are for sure is his name. Linken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh goodness!!! Someone please help me!!!"

A man runs through the empty plains in panic. He is being chased by a small group of goblins. "C'mon boys! Get him! Were not going to miss out on another meal."

The man trips and hurts his leg. He tries to get up and move but can't. The goblins close in on him. "He, he, he, chow down boys!!" One of the goblins say.

They move in for the kill but stop. They hear galloping. They turn around to see a elf on a horse in strange green cloths.

When he sees the sight of the goblins and the man he stops and looks.
"What do you want?? Elf??!!"

"Oh nothing.. I'm just passing through."

"Well keep passing fool!" Barked a goblin.

"Please good sir help me!!" The man pleaded.

"I will... For thirty gold."

"But sir... I... I don't have money I am poor."

"Well than I'm sorry I guess you're goblin chow than. Shame that is." He starts to ride off.

"Please sir!!! Don't leave me." He has desperate look in his eye. The goblin continue on their prey.

The elf looks back at him. "Fine then. But for that ring on your finger."

The man looks at his finger. "But this.. this is my... Fine you can have it just kill these brutes."

"Alright than. Looks like you got a hero." He pulls out his sword and points it at the goblins. "You've just made your last mistake..ELF!!"
They lung at him. He makes a quick slash at them they dodge it and come from behind. He turns around to face them but slips and falls on his back. The goblins laugh. Ha gets up and runs at them but they move out the way. He trips again but as he fall he impels one of them. "YOU WILL DIE!!" One of the monsters yells and runs at him. The elf jumps back and trips yet again and brings his sword down on the goblin. The last goblin throws a dagger at him. He falls back in cover. But drops his sword. The last goblin lunges at him pulling out a dagger. The elf quickly grabs his sword and points it up. The goblin is impaled by the sword and slides down to the hilt. The elf get up and pushes the beast off. He puts his sword away.

He walks up to the man an helps him up. He begins to cautiously take of his ring. But the elf stops him.

"Don't worry about it old man. I found something more valuable on those goblins." He hold up a small pouch and shakes it. He thin pours it's contents into his hand. Gold falls out. He then jumps back on his horse and rides off. The man gets up and sees a few gold pieces on the ground. Enough to feed his family. He never found out if the elf had left them on accident or not but he was forever great full.

After a few days of riding Linken comes to a village. It's a small farming village like many in Europe. He gives a lazy yawn as he strodes in on his horse. He stops next to an old man.

"Hey old man. Could you point me in the direction of the closest stables??"

The man shows him. Linken thanks him and he moves on. He finds the stables and put Rocket up. He seems uneasy about staying there.

"Hey calm down buddy. You're only stying here for a couple of days. Or at least when there's trouble. And that won't be long considering our luck."

After a few minutes of patting and talking he calms down. Linken walks around the village taking in the sites. He sees a pub called the Dusty Dragon. He walks in.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

...Magus made his decision, slay his own blood he shall. It could be no telling what kind of potential Kelvin could have if brought up the right way, and taught in the arts of magic. While Magus and Lance were truly gifted elves, they were not absolute in their power. They were not omnipotent over the arts nor were they truly masters yet. Fear struck Magus that Kelvin would grow up to surpass them both, and be one of the first elves to master all the arts. So much potential lied in the superstition of his golden eyes. His power could become endless.

So Magus finally decided what he would do, and how he would do it. He would sneak into the royal bedroom chamber, where little Kelvin would lie beside his father and mother's bed as they slept, and take him from them. Then, as he got far away enough from Caldoria, where no being would recognize the young royal heir, he would kill him. He would slaugther him like an innocent lamb, and bathe in his blood. Magus' madness had overwhelmed him. The very thought of success brought upon a sadistic smile across his face.

One night, he slithered into one of the windows of the royal palace, disguised as a snake, and crept, room to room, until finding himself in front of the doorway of the royal bedroom chamber. As his serpent form entered the room, his shadow expanded, taking the form of an elf, and he rose from the shadows in his true, natural form. Slowly, he walked over to Kelvin's crib, and gazed over the young heir, hating him more the longer he looked down at him. But something happened that was unexpected, young Kelvin woke up. Perhaps it was the cold chill that filled the room as Magus entered, or perhaps it was the deep breathing of Magus' breathe that woke the young baby. But when young Kelvin opened his eyes, those great golden eyes, Magus was struck like never before. The very gaze of the young infant seemed to have frozen his body, unable to move. And not recognizing the being before him, the infant cried, waking up his two parents who awoke from their slumber.

Without hesitation, Lance grabbed a dagger from the drawer in his dresser, and jumped out at his twin brother, knocking him down. Magus, now finding himself able to move once more, struggled vigorously as his brother Lance threatened him loudly, trying to pierce his very flesh with the dagger in his hand. Catching an attack, just before it would've pierced his flesh, the two found themselves in a stalemate. Every few seconds, Lance would advance, decreasing the distance between the dagger, and Magus' throat, and every few seconds Magus would push back, increasing the distance. Sophia, already gone from their sight, came back into the chamber with a few guards, wielding spears and axes, standing in the doorway. Lance became distracted as Sophia called out to him, causing him to turn his head, and with that mistake, Lance was struck in the face, by his own dagger by Magus' doing.

It wasn't a flesh wound, however, Magus was just able to cut Lance at the cheek; nothing serious. But that did not stop the guards from intervening, pulling Magus off of Lance, with Sophia running to her husband. All the while, Kelvin's cries that night were endless. It would have seemed, that when he cried, that it caused the two soldiers to tire, causing their grip on Magus to lessen, allowing him to break free. But not only the two soldiers were affected. Almost collapsing to the ground, Magus was able to transform into a worg, and crash through the window, fleeing the scene.

Everything that happened later seemed to have been a blur for Lance and the others. When they awoke, they found themselves awakening at the crack of dawn. Waking the two soldiers, Lance told them to stand outside by the door, and he went over to his wife, Sophia, who had been beside Kelvin's crib, already awake. As he joined her to look over at his son, he saw the young lad sleeping like a baby, innocent and calm as a lamb.

***

Sophia, worried about Magus’ attempt to attack their newborn, asked the Council for their guidance about what to do with the matter later that day. The Council advised that it would be best if the baby was put into a position that Magus would never expect. The Council suggested leaving the baby with them, where he would be constantly monitored, but Lance argued against it. He would not allow another to raise his own son, unless it was one being, and one being alone.

The very war that his father died in, was a war fought beside human allies. It was in the lands of Keltor that the Caldorian King found allies. The elves weapons and arts, together with the humans own weapons and dragon riders proved to be most efficient. During the war, the two kingdoms became very close and acquainted. Lance himself met a warrior, that reminded him of his father, that tried to fend off the enemy, while his injured father was given the chance to flee. But he did not do any such thing. 337 years old, the King of Caldoria never fled from battle, no matter what the odds. But the human tried to stop him, begging him to flee while he could. The Caldorian King patted him on the shoulder and thanking him for his concern, and then butted the handle side of the sword at the human's jaw, rendering him unconscious. Ordering one of his men to take the human away from the battle site, the King of Caldoria met his end as he remained to defend his country. The war was won that day, but the Country had lost its King.

Lance would only entrust the life of his son with that one human. Him, and him alone. Retiring after the war from his duties, the human warrior began blacksmithing. After the death of his comrade, the human had changed his name, however, removing his last name even in the process. He was only known as Elwin now, which translates to "friend of the elves". The Council, after must frustration and pleading to Lance, eventually gave in.

The next evening, Lance and Sophia said goodbye to their only son. Not being able to bear the thought of dropping their son off themselves in the land of the humans, Lance gave all of his faith in the hands of a young human, who had been in Caldoria with a batallion of his father's troops. A few months after the end of the war, the kingdom of Keltor and the kingdom of Caldoria made an agreement. They would keep a small group of their army stationed in Caldoria for a certain amount of time, incase the alliance's enemies from the war were to attack again. He told the young teen his tale, and had him write it down in a letter. And as the young teen finished, Lance handed him the family heirloom, to give to the blacksmith Elwin as well.

***

In the morning, the fleet of Keltoren troops were already gone, flying through the skies back to their home. Lance and Sophia would never see their son again. The young teen dropped off Kelvin at Elwin’s house with a note and the heirloom; Elwin took him in. Elwin was told to give Kelvin the family heirloom and to give him the note when he was old enough; Magus didn’t suspect a thing. Kelvin would grow up, an elf raised by humans, and learn the ways of their society.

Although, that was not all that happened that morning. As a chambermaid entered the royal bedroom chamber, her screams and cries filled the entire palace. Following the echoes, the Council and a few guards ran over to the royal bedroom to see what the fuss was about. King Lance and Queen Sophia laid in their bed, motionless and not breathing. Magus had returned that night, and when he found that Kelvin was gone, for he was already among the ranks of the Keltoren dragon riders, in their temporary barracks. Magus casted a spell that night, a silent and deadly one at that. When the doctors finished examining the two bodies, they deduced that their blood had become frozen from the inside out. The King and Queen dead, and the young Prince off on his way towards Keltor, Caldoria entered a most depressing Time and Age...​

 

[JinnSato]

After a few days of riding Linken comes to a village. It's a small farming village like many in Europe. He gives a lazy yawn as he strodes in on his horse. He stops next to an old man.

"Hey old man. Could you point me in the direction of the closest stables??"

The man shows him. Linken thanks him and he moves on. He finds the stables and put Rocket up. He seems uneasy about staying there.

"Hey calm down buddy. You're only stying here for a couple of days. Or at least when there's trouble. And that won't be long considering our luck."

After a few minutes of patting and talking he calms down. Linken walks around the village taking in the sites. He sees a pub called the Dusty Dragon. He walks in.

He walks into the bar. He catches a few stars because of his strange green cloths. He walks up to the bar. There he sees a startling beautiful barmaid. She had long thick red hair. And big pretty eyes. Linken couldn't take his eyes off of her. He sits at the bar.

"What'll ya have hon??"

"I'll have a pint lil' lady."

She begins pouring him his drink. She than hands it to him and begins drinking.

"Some good stuff ya got here." He says and gives her a wink.

"Sorry but thats not going to work with me."

"Well can I have your name??"

"No." She then walks off attending to another person.

Wow. Linken thinks while staring at her butt. I think I like this town. He smirks and then goes back to his drink.

​

 

[Johnny Blaze]

"Rise, Hilarion", commanded the lich as it stood by the tower window overlooking the forest below as sheets of rain fell from the heavens. There was no torch light in the room, but the area was dimly illuminated by the natural light of the outside world that crept in from the room's for windows.
The death knight did as his lord commanded and rose from his kneeling position to stand in front of the lich. He was an imposing figure, easily a good two feet taller then Charaun, and the great sword at his side spoke of a swift death to all who defy him.

"Do you have it", asked the lich in a brusque manner.

"Yes, my Lord", replied Hilarion as he handed the wrapped book to his master.

The lich took the tome from the death knight's hands, eying it with unseen anticipation.

"And the nabassu", Charaun question, his gaze fixed on the wrapped book.

"They were...relieved of duty", replied the death knight.

Charaun moved towards a work table that had over a dozen dusty books and parchments on it, as well as a lit hooded lantern and an feather quill and ink jar.
"Have Anastasia and her clergy summon more", Charaun stated in an unconcerned manner.

"As you wish, Lord Charaun."

"Now leave me. I have much work to do", commanded the lich as he began to unwrap the tome.

"As you command, Lord", replied Hilarion with a bow before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

The tome unwrapped, Charaun gazed at it in all it's glory. It was an old thing, appearing to be made of tough leather, but it was in actuality human flesh. It's outer cover appeared to be blank, but, when Charaun laid his decaying hands upon it, the book's skin turned black, and a white human skull materialized in it's center. The lich smiled as much as the remaining bits of dead flesh of his lips allowed.

"After one-hundred years of searching, I have finally found it...", Charaun spoke in a hushed tone as he held the book aloft, "the Tome of Myrkul."

The lich chuckled, and placed the book down onto the table. Opening the Tome of Myrkul, dust rose into the air, one could almost see it form the shape of a pained spirit before dissipating into nothingness.
Myrkul was a being known in necromancer circles throughout the world. He was a necromancer of great power that lived in ancient Babylon durring the empire's glory days. He created many dark spells and forged many powerful artifacts. It was even rumored that he was the first necromancer to transform into a lich.

Charaun began going through the tome carefully and slowly. He was searching for something, and he would make sure he did not overlook it. Then, after four hours into his perusal of the tome, he came to a page with the picture of a silver circlet with a black diamond set on the brow. The circlet had four bone horns mounted around it's edge.

Charaun laughed as he read the ancient script under the picture. After a century of searching, he had finally found it...

"...the Crown of Horns..."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The lich walked into the courtyard, the setting sun turning the sky above him to a deep orange hue. Several skeletal guards shuffled about as they walked along their designated area, but the lich paid them no heed. His attention was instead focused on the creature kneeling before him.

"Rise", bade Charaun to the creature.

The creature was a canine-like humanoid with black matted fur the color of night, but who's eyes burned with a feral green shine.

"What news do you bring me this evening, Alak", Charaun asked the werewolf.

"More of the same, master", replied Alak in a gruff, growl of a voice.
"The wild elves cut down a patrol of zombies and the ghast leading them. My blood brother, Gru, arrived with a pack of hunters and slaughtered most of them, though a handful escaped."

"Is that all", questioned Charaun as though none of it really mattered.

"I ran into a trio of adventurers on my personal patrol, a paladin, a wizard, and a thief, all human. I killed them all save the paladin, whom I merely maimed. I deposited him in the care of Kallisto. I believe she took him to the Chamber of Torment to break him."

The news of a paladin prisoner did please Charaun, but his mind was still lingering on the discovery he made earlier in the day. The fabled Crown of Horns was almost in his grasp...

"Is there anything else", questioned the lich.

"No, Master", replied Alak.

"Very good. You may go and return to your duties."

"Yes, Master", Alak spoke as he bowed low in reverence before turning and bounding off out of the courtyard and the castle and into the forest.

Charaun turned and entered the castle once more, ready to set his plans in motion to begin his search for the Crown of Horns. But first he decided he would amuse himself with the paladin. He could only hope that Kallisto had not broken him yet...

 

[Obi-John-Kenobi]

Oni Ryu walked beneath the cherry-blossom trees of Okinawa, pondering what was taking his alchemist researcher so long. A young drow approached, wearing black silken pants, and a white open-buttoned shirt.

"Well met, Lord Ryu."

The dark elf bowed sarcastically. Meeting with Del'Na'Har, his new "scientist", always left a bitter taste in Oni Ryu's mouth.

"If you are going to bow to me, do it with honor and dignity. Do not EVER show me an ounce of your drow 'sarcasm'. Am I understood?"

Del'Na'Har smiled and bowed once more, this time with more curtousy than before.

"My apologies, Lord Ryu. But I have urgent news to deliver to you."

Oni didn't seem very interested.

"What is it THIS time?"

"I have discovered a way to alchemically locate the item you have been searching for."
Oni seemed very interested now.

"All we have to do, is return to the area where it was last seen. I can use this item I created,"
The drow held up a silver necklace with a small spider attached to it.

"to discover what the artifact is made of. After that, I can alchemically locate the trail of whatever the item is made of, and track it to it's source."

Oni turned to face the devious drow. It was very well known (everywhere, to be honest) that the dark elves were a race not to be trusted. But Oni learned that you can obtain truth from anyone... With the right price.

"Can you really do this?"
"Of course. But I expect to be..."

Del struggled to find the human word for compensation.

"...Rewarded... For my services."

Oni nodded.

"Of course. Get everything ready. We leave in one hour."

The drow bowed politely, turned, and took his leave.



Del'Na'Har smiled wickedly as he prepared his alchemic supplies. Soon, he would have more power than any creature on in the Surface World.
All in the name of his god, the Spider Queen, Lloth.

 

[Green Lantern]

There was the flash of steel, but no discernible movement from the elf though his sword had appeared in his hand. In fact, the only movement in the alley was that of Olan’s head. It rolled away from its body down toward the sewage drain.

Chapter the Sixth
"The Journey South And The Gateway to the Black Forest"

Shortly after slaying Olan, Slieken began the journey south on Avalei. Several days passed as the horse and rider covered several hundred miles, sometimes bedding at an inn, but often pitching camp in the wild. Near dusk on the sixth day, as Slieken began to set up camp, Avalei whinnied in warning. The warning came too late, and before Slieken had a chance to react there was a knife in his back.

"Looks to me like I found a weary traveler... I demand gold to pass my road unscathed."

"I would, but the knife in my back prevents me from getting my gold from my saddle bag."

"Well, well. We can fix that."

The knife was pushed into the flesh of the small of Slieken's back, driving him towards Avalei. He opened the saddle bag, but rather than gold, he removed two goose feathered arrow shafts. Before the Highwayman could react the shafts were in either side of his abdomen and his knife clattered on the ground. Slieken turned around and pulled down on the arrows to drop the bandit to his knees. Keeping pressure on one arrow, he brandished one of his daggers and pressed it to the throat of his assailant.

"...Don't kill me mister. Please." The robber's voice now had tell-tale signs of dread, and had lost its overly confident swagger. Tears welled in the ugly man's eyes as he saw his death before him.

"Nay. Perhaps I won't. But I will make a demand of you."

"Anything sir, please just spare me." The thief whined like a begging dog, as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

"You shall leave your weapons, and all but your undergarments with me. Then you shall travel a day's ride to the north, perhaps two day's walk. There you will find a town, and you will direct yourself to 'The Massacred Bow' and tell the bartender, Araman, that his friend Slieken the Ranger has sent you and you are to await punishment by the city's constable. I will let you live if you agree to do this, but if I find you didn't I will hunt you down and take thy life as thy penance instead."

The thief had no argument against those words and slowly, fearfully nodded his head in agreement. He stripped down to his stained wool undergarments and set the rest of his clothing and weapons at Slieken's feet.

"Ahem. Your boots too."

"But, that but. Why?"

"You are foul scum who deserves bloody and calloused feet from a hard journey. How many of your victims were allowed luxury to afford new boots after you had your way?"

Grumbling, the crook unlaced the boots and set them on the pile, and then began walking to the north.

The following day, Slieken and Avalei reached the outskirts of the Black Forest, and Slieken was shocked when his scabbard grew warm.


​

 

[Kaboom]

The next day I mounted my horse, Viento in preparation to leave the village I had stayed in that evening.

"Excuse me, sir Knight," a small voice said as I was about to depart.

It took a second to realize the child was referring to me. Stupid bracelet.

"Yes, child, what it is it?"

"My father, he heard a Knight Errant was here and asked me to seek you out. A beast attacks our farmland just to the north of here nightly, eating our crops, and posiinong our land. You must help us."

"Lead the way," I said bregudgingly.