NationStates Jolt Archive

It was a typical night in Valdeunia, warm but cooled by the breeze coming in off the nearby sea. Captain of the Guard Conor Lithian stood solemnly, inhaling this sea breeze as he waited in the archway leading into the Palace Courtyard. The sound of metal slamming against stone echoed down the hall, breaking the summer silence. There was a grunt, followed by a shout, and Conor sighed and pulled a scroll from one of the pouches at his belt. The sounds of a struggle had ended as three armored guards emerged, one carrying a torch while the others marched with their halberds at ready. Behind them were two other guards that held in between them a wild looking man. His long hair was wet with sweat and hanging low over his eyes, and there was a long scar running down the man's cheek. The captive's eyes went wide when they caught sight of Conor.

"Lithian! What is this?! Come on man, don't do this!" The man struggled against the chains holding his wrists together.

"Jarek Misna, you have been charged with high treason against the Imperial family, and with conspiring to kill the Empress Valheria-"

"Conor! Look at me! You know me!"

"-You are to be stripped of all titles and land, including your status as "War Hero To The Empire" and you will be brought before a court to decide your sentence."

With that, the guards escorted the struggling man across the courtyard to a wagon awaiting him outside.

"Conor! Stop this! STOP THIS YOU BASTARD!!!"

The Captain stared as the former Valdeunian war hero was dragged away like a common criminal. As the wagon carried Jarek Misna away, Conor stared at the scroll he had just read. Rain began to fall, smudging some of the writing, and Conor crumpled the scroll in his fist and let roll off his hand to the marble flooring of the archway. He turned on his heel and marched without a word down the hall...

***************

Lightning flashed as Lunos Nightshade walked down the dirt road leading into the small village. One hand rested on the longsword at his hip, while the other swung at his side. Over his back was a black cloak, the hood pulled low over his face. Poking at from under the cloak was a long, gold and black spear with runes carved into the metal.

The door to a tavern slammed open and Lunos' hand gripped the hilt to his sword readily, but he relaxed as a man flew out of the doorway and landed on his stomach in the muddy ground.

"And stay out until ya learn yer place!" A group of gruff looking drunks were gathered in the doorway. The man that was thrown out climbed to his feet and blinked a couple times, obviously not to sober himself.

"I'll tell ya my place! It were right behind yer mother!"

Lunos sighed and walked around the fight that had broken out and pushed through the door into the tavern. He stopped and took a quick glance around and noticed it was much calmer in the tavern. He headed to the bar and dropped a couple of coins on the counter.

"A bottle of your strongest and a room."

The bartender rested the mug he was attempting to wash with a dirty rag on the counter. "The drink I can manage, but we're all out of rooms. See all these guys?"

Lunos gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white as he noticed the insignia on the shoulders of almost all the bar's patrons.

"They're a company just getting back from Tear, heading back to Tahara for some ceremony at the Palace."

"Aye, that's right! We're gonna get medals and gold for that fight!" A drunken soldier slammed his mug down on the bar. "They say it was a massacre, but they're wrong. Trust me lads, I was there! We had three thousand men with us, all well trained. But when we got to Tear, they was waitin' for us. We outnumbered them, but they still took half of us with them. It was them Dragon Knights that did it. They come out of the sky like demons, fire burn us up here, teeth and claws would tear us to shreds over there. Vicious, and the Tearians riding the beasts didn't help, sharp shooting us with arrows, impaling men with spears, and not to mention the way they used the Elements against us."

Lunos resisted the urge to stick the man to the wall as the bartender rested a glass and a bottle of whiskey on the counter.

"The Tearians, who would've thought?" he said as he filled Lunos' glass. "I always thought they were good people, but then word of treason leaked out-"

"Don't surprise me the least!" the soldier said loudly. "If Jarek Misna could be converted against Valdeunia, then so can the Tearians. I mean-" The soldier stared at Lunos as if just realizing something. "Where did you get that armor?"

Lunos thought quickly, already having a count of one hundred and seven drunk soldiers in the bar. "I got it off a Tearian! Don't you remember? I took out a dragon, but I had to chase down the knight. I was just late in getting back."

"Really?" The bartender stared at Lunos suspiciously. The drunk soldier, however cracked a wide grin and through his arm around Lunos shoulder.

"Ha! I figured you for one our tougher ones. Your name was...uh, Drake wasn't it?"

"Yeah, you got my name, friend."

"Aren't you from Tahara? This is like going back home for you isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, been missin' the city since I left for that reptile infested island."

The soldier laughed. "I hear ya lad! I'm from Balianum myself, but you can show me around Tahara. I've always wanted to ride on of those airships they have everywhere."

"Yeah, mabye I could." Lunos faked a laughed and quickly made up an excuse of being tired as the soldier tried to introduce him to some friends. With news of Lunos being a "soldier", the bartender suddenly had a room available and gave Lunos the key...

((Lunos Nightshade (http://img205.imageshack.us/img205/7631/dragchar11399622413co.jpg)))

((Och, can't match the picture there Val))

Lightning struck once more, but it was all soon lost within the midst of the howling storm, raging for the full length of the night. It was as if it fed itself right off the darkness of the night, eating right through the entire land.

"Aüindále...Aüindále...Aüindále...

Aüindále...Aüindále...Aüindále..."

Tossing on his bed, the voice continued to call...

"Aüindále...Aüindále...Aüindále..."

Thunder.

And he rose with a shock, brow matted with sweat and while the back was soaked. But the one thing that disturbed him after he had fully awaken, was the adrenaline-pumped feeling that he got within him. It was beating...beating, beating very fast. Very fast.

"Good evening to you too, Master Válletá." The voice of Eldar Riverwind crept in. He had quietly entered after the last thunderstroke, and by the looks of it, he was nowhere near ready for bed. He was still in his robes, with his staff and Elemental talismen. Evidently he must have been doing something more than just taking a midnight stroll.

"Oh, erm, Master Riverwind. You're up too..." Aüindále rubbed his eyes wearily. He had had his own share of bouts with insomnia recently, and this storm did not help him. Nonetheless, he had a sense of foreboding at the Eldar's arrival, fully clad in magewear. "Is there anything I can help you with? I would get you some tea..." the young Master began, before Riverwind cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I'm sure that we will have plenty of time for tea, after we have talked." For some reason, Aüindále felt that something was not right, there was something...ominous hanging in the air.

Seating himself tiringly down onto the chair of Aüindále's study desk, he fixed both of his golden eyes into Aüindále's blood red - the only sign of his Synos-heritage - ones. Eye contact was brief though, for Riverwind broke it with a heavy sigh, from which, he began.

"You have heard of the Tales, from the Legacy. The First Tale tells the story of our people first arriving within the lands of Válleron, when the Gods were at peace, when the earth itself was rich in life. When it was a time...of peace...a time of happiness.

"You have also heard of The Second Tale, of the Blood Plague, and of the Nomads. Most importantly, you have learnt of the story of Ariakan. You've heard, and know, of Ariakan's arrival from The Condemned. With her, she brought the powers of The Void. She waged war with the Gods of Válleron. Pitting the powers of The Void against that of The Abundant. You've also learnt that in an honourable move to save Válleron, the Gods sacrificed themselves to Ariakan. They relinquished their control over The Abundant, and forced Ariakan back to The Condemned, sealing themselves within with her, so that they can continue their fight. The Gods, were gone." As he said that, Aüindále noticed a single tear slowly trickle down his cheek.

"Then, came The Third Tale. With the Gods gone, the magic of the land slowly slipped away. What the Gods had left behind, were harnessed into the four different Points of the land: Point Sol, harnessing the power of Heat; Point Thaw, harnessing the power of Chill; Point Laguno, harnessing the power of The Abundant; and last but not least, Point Abyss, harnessing the powers of The Void. Each had their own loyal Acolytes and Mystics, working and striving towards full mastery of their own magics.

"But then...then, came the power of Sight. It gifted the elite and chosen few, the ability, to See, what others cannot."

Looking at him hard in the eye now, Riverwind's steadfast facade steadily broke down, as his face began to crinkle up, and frown lines started to show. This sudden implosion of the Eldar Master's character startled Aüindále, but he did nothing as he watched Riverwind begin to show a face that long has been denied existed by those who resided or worked with him. Indeed, it could be said that this face was filled with Life, albeit the burdens of it.

"Lately, as you might have noticed, Sight, has began to fail us. Even more worrying, as you might notice, the Scries of Point Sol and Point Thaw have began disintergrating. Worse, Mt. Sanctum, the dead volcano which Point Laguno resides by, has erupted.

"And to stress my cause for worry...the last time that Mt. Sanctum erupted, was at the end of The Second Tale, after the Gods had successfully sealed themselves in with Ariakan in The Condemned. Before that, it was erupted by Ariakan herself, when she announced her arrival into Válleron...when we all agree, that The First Tale ends."

Questions filled to his brim now, Aüindále burst out "But Master, what of this then? What are you suggesting?"

"Merely contemplating...But I strongly believe that this is the ushering...of The Fourth Tale - The Second Tale of the Void." Riverwind's indifferent tone started to give way to a harsher reality.

The First Tale - The Tale of the Gods...The Second Tale - The Tale of The Void...The Third Tale - The Tale of The Sight. And now, The Fourth Tale...a Second for The Void?... Aüindále shuddered at the thought, but kept to himself.

"The situation can be rescued though...

"Far away, in a land distant from us, is the Imperial Republic of Valdeunia. You might have heard of it before, from one of the Scry-Masters of Point Laguno, or you might have even Seen it before. I haven't, but I've been there enough times now, and have studied their lands now, to fully grasp their relevance within this particular event."

At this point, Aüindále was confused by the Elder's words.

Valléron itself was a large realm, separated by a great number of Fiefs, ruled under the wise leadership of the Lord of the Realm. What one wanted, they could inevitably find it in this land. There were seldom cases when people would Valléron, unless it was a wandering ranger. It tended to be the other way, with a steady influx of foreign peoples coming into Valléron instead.

"You seem confused, Master Vallétta." Riverwind sounded slightly amused. "Forgive me, I forgot to deliberate myself.

"You might have heard of the Island of Tear, a little, pleasant if I may say so myself, island off the main shores of Valdeunia, and quite close actually, to Port Sanctuary.

"Now, I am merely formulating this theory purely out of educated guesswork. I have absolutely no evidence of any source to back this up, apart from my own staunch belief. A belief, in the fact that it is...in fact, the Dragons of Tear that provide the very source of Sight. And, as I can imagine, Tear is no more, from what I have gathered from Master Thrall, the Arch-MagePrince. Unfortunately though, as he was about to reveal details that might proof crucial towards the failure of Sight, the Scry-Link died."

He wandered around the room, pacing at a steady rate, his shoes producing a deep, rhythmic echo.

"You want me, to go and find out what has happened in Tear. You want me to head for the Imperial Republic. Am I right?" Aüindále's blood red eyes once more seeked Riverwind's golden.

Gravely, with a tinge of despair that Aüindále could not decipher, Riverwind nodded.

ooc: Don't have much time right now but hopefully this is a good start. This should be fun you guys.

Vertumnus woke up in a cold sweat, his hand grasping his bastard sword like a child his teddy bear. He tried to calm himself down, breathing heavily, as he layed up and thought. That dream again! Why can't I shake it? What's wrong with me? Warriors don't have nightmares, they have dreams of victories! Despite was he was saying, however, he could not shake the dream.

In it, he was at the temple of his god, Maruk, master of the wild ways. Trees were pierced through the temple, moss hanging at the sides. He was at the altar, fromed from the bark of a tree, and was performing the final Marking Ceremony, in which he carved the symbol of Maruk on his chest.
http://isomerica.net/~mlah/narayan/nature.gif
the symbol of Maruk

As he finished it, however, something went wrong. Traditionally, the blood spilled from the ceremony would call Maruk down to the worthy one, and for that brief moment, commune with him on his destiny. Maruk would then leave the warrior, who would have seen and felt Maruk, and, believing unquestionably in him, would follow his creed.

Vertumnus, however, saw something else. Another God. One that called to him, away from Maruk and to a new light, a new temple. He tried to focus, tried to call Maruk, but this spirit disrupted him and made its presence felt. After this Vertumnus felt he could not take the intrusion any more, and fled from the temple. This was, of course, a sign of disrespect and weakness, for someone that cannot complete the ceremony doesn't deserve to be enlightened by Maruk.

Called an outcast by his own people, Vertumnus had to flee. Every time he rested his head, however, images and thoughts of this new god entered it. He was shown paths, buildings, and people that strangely enough he was seeing days later in real life. The visions were bringing him some place, and only time would tell where.

"Mineik túlon vestíl tu von ach..." whispered the Tearian shaman as he threw a dust on the flickering flames before him. The fire flashed in different colors, bathing those around in first a bloody red, then a bright blue, before settling to burn to a glowing green. The shaman stared at the flames a moment before sighing heavily and pushing himself to his feet, leaning his weight on his twisted staff. The tattoos on his face seemed to move in the firelight.

"The flames do not lie," said the shaman in Tearian. "They are coming, the Dark Prophecy has come to be. The Imperials have fallen under the iron fist of the Archmage Vensii Cúlin; and in their blindness, have betrayed us."

There was silence among those around the shaman and then a young woman stood, holding a long, intricately decorated spear in front of her. "If this is indeed the fulfilling of the Dark Prophecy, then we on Tear are doomed?"

The shaman hesitated and sighed heavily again, his rugged gray beard shifting under his breath, before saying, "The flames do not lie..."

"Then we can try to save as many as we can." The young woman turned, her dark armor reflecting the green light of the fire.

"Save as many as you can, but all our fates hang in the balance of what's to come. As you know, only the Destined stand a chance against the dark powers growing to the south..."

The woman nodded. "Aye, and we can try our best to see that those Destined are among the living. I'll rouse the rest of the Dragon Knights, we can give the others here time to flee."

A scarred, tattooed man laughed and stood. "I am not one to flee from a fight. The Ognaht Clan will stay, and we'll die if the Fates should wish it, and send as many of the Imperials to their Azura as we must."

The young woman smiled solemnly. "I would never doubt the Ognahts' eagerness for a fight." She turned and faced a silent man wearing armor similar to hers. "Lunos, stand and go gather the others while we still have time to prepare." She paused, and then yelled loudly, "Drake! DRAKE!"

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

Lunos jumped awake to the shouting of a name through his room's wooden door.

"DRAKE! Open this door! Drake!"
"His name's not really Drake idiot!"
"Well wot do we call 'im then?"

Lunos quickly climbed out of his bed and went to the stand holding his armor. As he hurriedly put on his equipment, there was a loud banging on his door.

"You in there! Open this door or we'll break it down!"
"I can't believe I thought 'e was Drake, I mean, 'e looked like 'im..."

Lunos snapped on his boots and did a quick equipment check. He grabbed his spear and turned sharply to face the door as an axe pierced through the door. He picked up a kitchen knife from the table in the middle of the room and waited for the axe to be pulled back. As soon as it was, Lunos threw the knife through the hole and was answered with a painful shout.

Lunos bent down and picked up his bed's mattress. He rammed it threw his window and let it fall to the ground below. As the door behind him smashed open, he jumped out the window to land easily on the mattress. Before sprinting off without a word, he scooped up a handful of broken glass that had fallen from the window and tossed it onto the mattress.

He ran, ignoring the cries, "To arms! He's getting away!" that echoed behind him...

"Aüindále, Master Thrall shall be awaiting your arrival at Port Sanctuary. The Arch-MagePrince of Coranos, you remember him, do you not?" Riverwind's question was obviously rhetorical.

In the week prior to Aüindále's departure, Riverwind himself had spent hours on end in the Scry, wandering far and wide throughout the Realm, searching for every single little detail that might help serve as useful information for Aüindále. Even now, what he was embarking upon could turn out to be a fool's errand and time wasted on what could be spent otherwise on searching for other reasons as to the failure of Sight, something that none of the Enclave could afford in Valléron.

"Master, are you sure of this?" For the first time, Aüindále voiced what seemed to be uncertainty and doubt in the wisdom of the Eldar.

"In truth Master Vállettá...I have no idea. For all I know, this could be yet another of those fanciful wayward brainchilds of mine that lead to more fruitless products." The response stunned Aüindále.

"I will, however, vouch that you will not be wasting your time. I hear there are dragons in Tear." The little joke from Riverwind that was customary prior to any of the Enclave departuring on a mission.