Forums / Roleplaying / Throne of War
| Throne of War | ||||
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| 16:11:26 Aug 20th 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar: I'm now gone until the first of September. I'll post more then. | ||||
| 16:50:32 Aug 20th 09 - Demonslayer Charley Deallus IV: Quite a large gap. I will hopefully be around then :) | ||||
| 18:04:50 Aug 20th 09 - Mr. Himanil VII: Hopefully? Don't tell me that you're going on another one. | ||||
| 09:39:38 Aug 22nd 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar:
Chapter 4: Fall of Winter Part 3: Before the Raid Feliscar stood upon the top of the northwest tower of the Templarim Castle, pondering his next move. Men below were still organizing caravans to bring back refugees from several crude forts that were erected in a hurry. Feliscar knew that they were nothing more than a illusion of a defense. No one was really prepared for a war. Most of the soldiers had never seen a battle, let alone fought in one. What was he to do with them all? Another thing that bothered him with the coming war was the terrible odds that he would half to face. Most cities in those days had just enough men to guard the citizens from the occasional bandits and criminals. There were not enough to fittingly call them an army. If King Cyrus gathered troops from other places in Chedel, then other places would be dangerously exposed. The king was right to start a recruitment campaign. Feliscar had been praying for troops, and especially a squire of his own, someone to take his place and learn from his experience as a seasoned soldier. The prodigy is here, he thought. I’ll run into him soon enough. As he waited for the caravans to assemble, Archknight Aventil came up from behind and began to speak, “This will be a hard fight, my friend. I just hope that more will join the cause.” Feliscar just sighed and lowered hi head. Aventil began to wonder and then asked, “Are there no allies in Iynuwr? Are the valors the only able army in these isles?” Feliscar’s countenance grew even more sad as he answered, “There are other armies in these parts, but they have all given their excuses or no reply at all. The volcano dwarves are unreachable in their fortress of fire. We cannot even find their exact location. The phoenix gnomes and dragonfly goblins have been massing troops for centuries, waiting for the other to make the first move. The magma trolls are nothing more than pirates and scavengers.” “What about the fire elves?” Aventil asked, perhaps out of pride for his own kind, although he already knew the situation. Feliscar humored Aventil with a response, “Aventil, you know well the grudge the fire elves hold against us since the fall of the dragon lords. I do not wish to offend you, but I am surprised that they have not joined the jackal orcs against us.” Aventil just laughed a bit at the comment and added, “Elves would never ally with orcs, especially the fire orcs. They may resent Azulite rule, but they will not abandon their principles to fight us. But I would not expect them to help us in any way.” Aventil then grew solemn as he remembered the final group that had settled in Iynuur, “The one faction here that I do fear, Feliscar, are the shadow scions. We will not be able to stand against them for long if they join in the fight.” Feliscar looked up to the clear sky in the coming chill of winter, gathering his thoughts before responding, “Scouts have already confirmed their involvement. There is no doubt that they were behind the orcs’ escape. That is why I am thankful Farhun is on his way with fire scions. Perhaps that will be enough.” “That will not be enough! We both know who the shadow scions serve in secret. Are the fire scions strong enough to stem the tides of the Shadow Dragon?” Aventil’s chastisement caught Feliscar off guard. He expected more faith from the Archknight. Men had always faced the evil plans of the dark one even in times of peace. Shedtannah, as the king of darkness was known, or the shadow dragon in common speech, was considered more of a dark legend than an actual figure. However, as sure as there was the God, Adel, there was the one who opposed Him. Being somewhat disturbed by Aventil’s fear of Shedtannah, he struck back in a firm and frustrated term, “I do not fear Shedtannah! No shadow or act of darkness can bring down this kingdom, as long as Adel is with us.” Aventil just gave a smirk as he said, “Do you think that Adel protects the self-righteous zealots and bigots? Do not confuse humble confidence with prideful faith, Feliscar. It is that sort of hypocritical piety that will bring us all down into ruin.” Before Feliscar could defend himself, one of his captains called out reporting that the caravans were all set to leave. “Very well, Captain, I will go to Fort Timbermane with one of the caravans, tell the High Templar to accompany one caravan each, except for Sir Calvin and Sir Zedek. Tell them to stay here with Archknight Aventil and reinforce Templarim.” The captain just bowed in agreement and went about his tasks. As the captain left, Feliscar just left Aventil by saying, “This is not over, Aventil.” | ||||
| 10:07:48 Aug 22nd 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar:
Chapter 4: Fall of Winter Part 4: Massacre of Flame Creek The heat of the lava felt good as Karzem returned from his surface scouting. Although he was a very hairy and hearty dwarf, Karzem preferred the heat of the earth to the cold of the open air. He was a cavern dwarf from Harkeph, but he decided to join the volcano dwarves in Iynuur, perhaps out of a thirst for adventure. He had heard of the volcano city of Narorod, the inverted castle of Unbeleg and the tensions on the border between the dwarves and the fire elves. There was nothing in Harkeph for him but endless tunnels, mining, and hunting giant ant-like monsters called formians. He found the overgrown insects disgusting and disturbing. He was happy to get away finally. He had no family or any other ties to keep him there. He was happy where he was, the young trailblazer of the mountains. He had just passed through the dwarven door leading from the cold mountains outside into the underground highway that ran along the magma river, occasionally crossing over it when slopes required it. He preferred to walk, but a dwarf in front of him was riding a yak towing a wagon full of melting snow and ice. Although water dripped into caverns below the mountain, fresh glacier water did not have the repulsive sulfur flavor that the cavern water had there in Wethrina. There was a lot of traffic on Flame Creek Road, that day, once Karzem passed the fork leading off to small villages near the surface. He would never forget what happened there as he passed came to that fort. Just outside of the dwarf gate, Stratilin crouched in the snow, hiding beneath his elven cloak, both arched blades drawn. The blades were ruthless in appearance, two arched blades six inches wide, serrated and lined with pyrobeetle venom, and two and a half feet long from the hilt. The bottom end of the hilts were two jagged spikes, made to detach after piercing the enemy. Stratilin was a fire elf, with ruby red hair, tan skin, gold retinas, and often clad in red and orange silks. Quite often others referred to fire elves as fury elves for their unique ability to use magic in combination with martial frenzy. Stratilin was about to prove the nickname true as he watched a few dwarves approached the gate in the rocky cliff just below him. He knew that there were two volcano dwarf guardians with halberds watching over the door. As soon as the door opened, he would spring the trap. Sure enough, a couple of she-dwarves passed through the gate, and soon Stratilin swung down, cutting through both of the dwarf guardians and landing on the back of one of the dwarf woman, stabbing her with one of the spikes on the blade in his left hand. The other woman began to ran in fear, but Stratilin’s blade spun through her before she could get very far. The ruthless attack had several witnesses. Many dwarves, both professional guards and the casual dwarf miner, charged at the intruder. Being such a narrow highway, the fire elf only had to deal with two or three of them at a time. It was simple work for him until his reinforcements arrived a few moments after. Within an hour, an army of ten thousand fire elves reached the fork leading to Narorod, pushing dwarf men, women, and children, into Flame Creek as they came. Karzem could not believe his eyes as the army of elves came into view. Along with hundreds of frightened dwarves, he turned and ran to Narorod as fast as he could. The man riding the yak in front of him exploded as a fire ball collided into the rock wall to the right of him. The heat splintered the water wagon, causing the water to soak Karzem. The sprinting dwarf was now numb as he tripped over the charred body of the yak and into the dead dwarf’s ashes. He heard the thundering feet of the army approach him from behind. He rolled over to the side of the yak to protect himself from being trampled. He lay there for an hour and a half until the whole army finally passed him. Where did all of these elves come from, and how did he not see them in his scouting along the border? He now realized that this atrocity was his fault. He had missed them somehow. Now he wished that they did trample him to death. He caused the ruin of Wethrina. | ||||
| 10:10:26 Aug 22nd 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar:
Chapter 4: Fall of Winter Part 5: Seeds of War Lastilla could do nothing but constantly dry her eyes during the voyage across Balion Ocean. Normally the voyage from Port Res to Iynuur took almost a week, but on a elven windrunner ship, it only took two days. Lasilla did not normally see windrunners in the Chereb region, but a couple ships were part of the Sentinel army heading over to Iynuur. She told the captain that she was chasing a fugitive and he allowed her passage. Where had Talis gone? She wondered what she would do to find him once she reached the shore. Every moment a part of her told her to turn back and forgive him, but the other part was crying for revenge. That same part that was crying for blood seemed to appease the other half by a hope that perhaps by meeting him again, somehow things would turn for the better. She remembered the night before Dawthir died. It was at a blue moon festival that happens only twice in an elf’s life time where the dispute would ensue. The guest of honor was the first elf Archknight, Aventil. Lastilla never heard elven cheers louder than the cheers of the moment he walked in. Most elves, however, thought that it was just a political move by the king to appoint Aventil to calm the growing unrest among the elves across Chedel with the long undisputed rule of what had mostly been just valors. During the party in the moonlight, Lastillla caught a glimpse of Talis in the distance speaking with Dawthir. That night, she planned to confess her love to Talis. She began to make her way through the crowds of friends. Every few feet someone would try to stop her and begin another conversation. At the end of every conversation, when she looked back over at Talis and Dawthir, they grew angrier than the last time she saw them. By the time she reached them, Talis had punched Dawthir, knocking him down onto his feet. Dawthir retaliated until they were pulled apart by Aventil and his son, the king of Pardec, Volradas. As they were pulled apart, Aventil questioned the nature of the dispute. Neither Dawthir or Talis would answer. Aventil just gave them warning to watch their tempers and left them. Talis left in shame and anger. Lastilla asked Dawthir what the fighting was about. “Talis was,” Dawthir began in an angry tone, but then realizing that he was talking to his younger sister and not his friend, he changed his tone to a kind, loving voice, “Talis does not believe Aventil’s call to be the Archknight was inspired and that it was proof that the leaders in Solazul are flawed. I defended the valors’ decision with Aventil.” His eyes lowered in shame as he confessed, “In the argument, I lost my temper and called him an ‘orc-bed whore.’ That was when he hit me.” Talis was known for his involvement with orcs, especially as a dark elf. He loved the orcs as much as his own people and did a few things that were almost unpardonable among elf culture, teaching elf sword lessons to orc children. Some elves gossiped that Talis even had an orc lover, hence the name “orc-bed whore.” For Dawthir, who was his best friend, to call him that must have hurt deeper than anyone could imagine. Lastilla remembered shaking her head and scolding Dawthir’s role in the argument. Now that he was dead, she could wished that she was softer in her rebuke. It was the last time she spoke with him that night. She looked everywhere for Talis, but could not find him until that next morning when she found Talis with Dawthir dead on the floor. Dawthir died for a single name. Now war was raging in Iynuur. To Lastilla, there was no doubt that Talis had gone mad and helped the orcs attack the valors. This whole war started from a matter of politics. | ||||
| 14:07:26 Aug 22nd 09 - Mr. Himanil VII: Continue. Did you get inspiration for the word 'Shedtannah' from 'shaitan'? | ||||
| 18:05:24 Aug 22nd 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar: Shed = Shadow in Hebrew, Tannah = Dragon in Hebrew | ||||
| 03:38:39 Aug 23rd 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar: Haven't written a lot. Passing through Vegas onto San Diego. | ||||
| 18:59:31 Aug 30th 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar:
Chapter 5: Defense of Joy Part 1: Fly for Honor Elsa sat at the table outside of Aves’ cabin waiting for him to leave the stables. She thought that he wanted some time alone and waited patiently for him to come out calm and resolved. She had never seen him so distraught before and it hurt her. In the back of her mind she was worried about the wedding. She suppressed these thoughts, however, thinking that it was selfish of her to think of such things at this time. As the sun began to sink in the west beyond the hills, she saw Aves finally leave the barn leading Fangbeak by the reins, just as she thought he would be, calm and resolved. One part of her thought the wedding might go on, but as Aves looked at her, she felt that it wasn’t the case. Aves held Elsa be the hand, and in the fading light, not unlike the hour of his proposal, he kissed her gently on the lips. He whispered to her, “I am sorry, Elsa. I am afraid that the wedding must be delayed, for this lowly groom will out on an errand.” The words seemed caring and full of wisdom, with some authority behind it, beyond Aves’ humorous self could have. Elsa could only ask, “Why Aves? Where will you be, what are you going to do?” She was right, she was growing greedy for the marriage. They had not planned on a terrible war happening in the west, nor the humiliating prejudice that Aves faced at the heart of the world. The wedding will wait, she felt. However, she feared that if the wedding did not happen soon, that it would never happen at all. She then begged of Aves, “Could we not have the wedding before you leave?” However, she already knew the response before Aves could say, “No. I am sorry Elsa.” Aves then went on, “The enemy will not wait and I must leave tonight before it is too late for us all.” Elsa could not imagine Aves leaving for war, nor fighting in a land so many miles away. She feared for his safety, worrying if he would ever come back. “May I come with you, Aves? I must make sure that you come back unharmed.” Aves could not answer any more questions of Elsa. Each answer he gave felt like it hurt her deeper than the last. He had to tell her the truth. He was so certain of what he had to do. He saw it clearly in the stables and in his head, and even in his heart, of what he would need to do. The scene played out again and again in his head, a dragon, a young knight, him and his gryphon flying above a terrible battle. It had to happen. He did not know why, but he needed to be there. He then answered Elsa, “I could not do a thing if you were there with me. I could not focus on the war if I had to worry for you safety. I am sorry, Elsa, but we will both be safer if you stay here.” Elsa wanted to protest against his decision. She knew that she was a better warrior than him, that she was a great marksman and hunter. She felt oppressed, but she knew that he was not acting as a man, but common sense. Something awaited him, and he had to be separated from Elsa to complete his task. He then held her close and whispered in her ear, “I promise, we will have our wedding.” She could tell from his eyes that he had full confidence of what was to come. She could not question as much as she wanted. She finally surrendered, saying, “Very well, Aves. You may go to war, but come back safe, alright?” Aves smiled, “I love you, Elsa.” “I love you, Aves,” smiled Elsa. At that moment they gave each other one last kiss before he hoisted himself onto the gryphon and flew away. Elsa said under her teary breath, “Good-bye, Aves.” Aves wanted to turn back, but he could not deny the feeling in his heart. In that barn, all feelings of broken pride and humiliation faded from him. Dreams of glory were a past thought. But after all other reasons were gone, he knew why he left, to ensure that others could live to feel the same love and joy that he felt with Elsa. That was enough of a reason to give his life. | ||||
| 09:15:43 Sep 2nd 09 - Shadowbane King Feliscar:
Chapter 5: Defense of Joy Part 2: Brashi of Talents Fang looked up, holding Ursus with one arm, and two small dark green hands grasping his wrist. Above him was a tiny narrow face with a long pointy nose, pointed ears, wiry and spiky white hair, and narrow yellow eyes. It was a goblin that had grabbed him. The goblin’s feet were being held by another goblin above him while he held onto Fang. The goblin began to speak, “Those shadies are bad news. Ye pointy ear gots some problems. Lucky that we were hunting snow worms to save ye two tall men.” The goblin then called out to a team of hunters above him. They began to heave in unison with grunts that sounded quite odd, higher pitched and nasaled. Within a few minutes, Fang and Ursus reached the top of the bluff. Both lay down in the snow panting. There were five goblins standing around them, handing them water and offering food. The goblins were as tall as gnomes, but much ganglier and skinnier, along with their rough sickly skin, wiry unkept hair, and buggy eyes. These were most likely dragonfly goblins from the south islands of Iynuur. Fang did not take long to pant out gratitude, “Thank you, noble goblins. We would not have survived without your help.” “No need to thank us, elfy. It was good fun pulling ye up,” the captain of the expedition said. There were seven of them all standing around. The goblin was without a doubt curious of Fang’s presence there in Iynuur. “What ye doing here in Iynuur, good elfy?” Fang got off the ground and to his feet, finally rested. He held his sore shoulder. He realized that his arm was pulled out of place, He looked down at it as he answered, “We’re helping the war effort. I have my own reasons.” One of the other goblins came from the group and pointed at Fang’s arm and asked, “Ye need help? Yeer arm’s a bit dangly. It’ll pain biggy.” Fang nodded as the goblin took the arm and pushed it back in. Fang gave out a sharp yelp in pain as the arm was relocated into place. He tested out the treatment, moving and swinging it around. “Thank you, again.” The goblins acquainted themselves with Fang and Ursus. They could explained to both of them that their hunting expedition could not give up their quest. However, one of the goblins, Brashi, offered to assist the Fang and Ursus in their endeavors. The two were extremely grateful for the goblins’ assistance, especially Brashi’s offer to help them personally. Team went on their way and the trio headed south. Fang explained to the other two that the orcs were sweeping south through Rass Rutha and while he was away, he snuck into the orc encampment and spied on the leaders. He caught parts of the conversation, which was all in orcish speech. The shadow scions and the jackal orcs were indeed in some kind of allegiance. The jackal orc leader, Matar, sent messangers to the fissure trolls on the north island, asking also for assistance. The target was to siege and destroy Templarim, the valor capital of Iynuur. Fang decided that the best thing to do was to get Ursus back to Templarim. By now, Fang had forgotten all about Lastilla’s pursuit, assuming that he lost her at Solazul when Obadiah sent him to Iynuur. He would hope that officials in Templarim would not recognize him and that his true identity would not be discovered. Fang, Ursus, and the goblin Brashi left for the south to warn Templarim of the situation. Brashi was a young goblin skilled in magic and trickery. He was short for even a goblin and was a bit quiet and was shy at first with Ursus and Fang. They travelled for a two nights and a day before they heard him speak. “I be sorry for not talking much. I don’t know many people besides my buggy gobs. I never fought in a war, and I cannot stop fearing that I may never see my family again. Have either have ye seen war before?” Fang and Ursus both stared without answering. They could not answer. Brashi drooped his head down low and sighed, “Of all the magic and powers of the world, I would give it all just for the power to see what the future has for me.” As they spoke, they heard voices coming from over a hill that was coming toward them. Fang whispered to the other two, “Shades, they are coming fast.” Ursus looked to his right and left seeing no cover in the solid snow. All three had dark clothing that could not blend in with the blanket of whiteness. In the early dawn, they would appear to be much more than shadows. What were they to do? Fang and Ursus felt panic run up their spines, causing them to shiver in fear and despair. Brashi, however, soon losing his own sense of dread for his more humorous self, laughed out, “Good tall folk, ye so worried of small things. Follow this little gobby, and be ye not seen.” He laughed and snickered as the elf and human followed the goblin to the right. Brashi took a small leap into the air, holding his nose with one hand and holding his tucked-under feet with the other. He then landed into the snow like a child into a cool pond on a hot summer day and disappeared from view. A second or two later, Fang and Ursus heard a splash and looked at each other and curiosity. What had happened? They both came to the spot where Brashi had jumped and saw a melt hole in the deep snow with a steaming pool at the bottom with Brashi floating on his back, confident and comfortable. He looked up at the two dumbfounded men and said, “Dive on in, tallzies; the water is fine” Fang and Ursus jumped in just before the footsteps reached the top of the hill. They sat in the warm water as they heard hundreds of footsteps pass by them above. Ursus whispered in a new sense of panic, “Goblin, they will still see the steam!” But Brashi just held his finger to his mouth and shushed Ursus as he waved his hand in the air. Snow crept from the surface, forming a roof over the steam pit in which they hid. They then sat patiently until the army could no longer be heard. Fang gave out a sigh of relief, “Good goblin, I do hope you never trade away your talents for foresight. You are quite the handy little hero.” Brashi just smiled and replied, “Perhaps yeer right, elfy. I can make my own future. Good I can help with magic at least. We all got something good from the beginning, and we all make our own ending. Yes, good smarty elfy help me find wisdom. Thank ye.” Ursus just answered, “No, master Brashi, thank you for saving us.” | ||||
| 09:16:57 Oct 8th 09 - Shadowbane King Keceph: I've faced a hiccup in writing this story. The last part with Aves leaving for war is not sitting with me too well. I'm not sure if I want him to overcome his anger issues quite yet, if at all. Should Aves be a villian or hero later on? Something awful happens to his family later on? Should it be a consequence of his rashness, or just a bad cast of fates? Prayer of a FugitiveBy Spencer S. Smith O Adel! Father of my soul! A wretch, a fiend I am To the elves, my kin! But Thou doest know Of my innocence, my truth For found was I With my sword gone red The blood of my friend For here he lies The brother of my love, My angel and my dove By her sweet eyes She found me weeping, She saw me guilty My sword unsheathed, His neck undone. All wrong, all gone My fate is sealed To die a traitor. Why, my Father Shall a man walk free Of sin and murder While I shall run, My life asunder? I pray now father To right this wrong Save me in my flee Help my vindication For at least in thine eyes I am forgiven Of the blood on my hands But no blood on my soul Shed by another Who I do not know. Dear Lord, help me find, This murderer of mine The villain of this nation The framer of lies Who cast his blame on me Who causes me to flee! Amen, Amen, May it be! | ||||
| 11:49:32 Oct 8th 09 - Sir Himanil VIII: It's fine. (Save me in my flee should be save me in my flight) | ||||
| 07:47:52 Oct 9th 09 - Shadowbane King Keceph: Thanks, that does sound better. | ||||
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