General Art The Forgotten Powers

[Doc]

Hey, guys! It is me again to write another story. The Newcomer completely crashed and burned and I have decided to a lot more with The Mechanical People, perhaps a full length book if I can remain dedicated. So, in the mean time I wanted to contribute to this part of the site, especially with the loss of Gobli (for the time being), a constant and dedicated writer.

So here I have written the first part of a story with three different perspectives. I would like to thank Lord Carlisle. While this member has been absent for a long while, they did start a RP long ago that influenced this story.

So here you are, Part One!

Spoiler

Lightning shook the earth and waves crashed against the walls of Bayford. A young woman sat in a garden, dressed in a black dress and veil and holding a deep red rose. She listened solemnly to the pitter patter of the rain and the ocean. The woman stood up from the bench she sat upon, and approached a grave, freshly dug. She knelt next to the tablet erecting from the ground and began to weep. The falling water disguised her tears.

“Sweet Mari…”she choked, “Mari, return to us, please. We need you, Mari. Father needs you, mother needs you, and I need you.” The young woman shut her eyes tight and fell forward. The veil fell off and her wet chestnut hair fell from its neatly done bun. “Mari, please. Please, Mari, please please please come back.”

“Loraine…” a voice called to her. The young woman quickly looked back, to see the red and puffed face of her younger sister. The little girl’s auburn was hair plastered to her face and her eyes shone. A young girl of only fourteen.

“Fiona. Come here, Fiona.” Loraine beckoned.

“I miss Mari.” Fiona said. “Father won’t talk about it and mother has yet to come out of her chambers.” The young girl said as she knelt beside her older sister. Mari had been the youngest of the three, died only at the ripe age of eleven.

“It is okay. She went peacefully. Her illness was a quick and painless one. And Mari is now in a better place. Mari is watching us and waiting for us to go to meet her. Trust me, we will see her again. But right now, we need to remain strong. Can you do that for her? Remain strong for Mari?”

Fiona nodded. “How did she get sick?”

“A rat, perhaps. Ships carry many rats from foreign lands, full of disease and sickness. You must not worry about it.” Loraine told her sister.

“Is it possible she was poisoned? Father went to Lord Galon’s court, and returned with a priestess…I overheard her say that it was dark magic.”

“It was a dream, Fiona. Dark magic is not true. Come, let us get you inside. We will get ill if we wait out here any longer. It is late. I think you should get some sleep.” Loraine suggested.

The two sisters walked back toward their home, a manse that hung on the edge of a cliff above the seas.

Fiona stared up at Loraine with big eyes. Fiona was shorter than the average girl, and Loraine taller. “Are you sure it was a dream, Loraine?”
The older girl smiled. “I am sure. Go get some rest.”

Once Fiona’s door was firmly shut and the candle within extinguished, Loraine hurried down the halls to her father’s chambers. Fiona’s words shook Loraine to her core. If Mari had been killed through some dark arts and her father knew… I mustn’t think like that, she told herself.

Her father should have sent Mari to Lostand. Surely the wise sorcerers of the Holy Tower there could have healed her. The fact that he didn’t must be proof that Fiona was, in fact, dreaming when she heard this cruel lie.

Loraine raised her fist to knock on the door before she heard violent coughing. She knocked and the door creaked open. Her father stood over a pile of papers, his eyes red and puffy much like Fiona’s had been. He had the same hair as Loraine, only his covered his jaw and chin as well. Her father was a broad shouldered man, and wide of face.

“Loraine, not right now. You must forgive me; our liege lord has requested I increase the tax again and I can’t have—“

“Did you have a priestess examine Mari?” Loraine interrupted.

Her father was taken aback. “Loraine…where did you hear such things?”

“Answer me, Father!”

“Yes…” her father sighed. “And yes, she said it was sorcery. Loraine, trust me, you don’t know what is happening.”

“Why didn’t you send for a wizard?! He could have healed Mari. You didn’t do anything for her!”

“The wizards won’t come to Bayford!” the man shouted. “I sent word to them and they said we weren’t the only ones with a request to heal someone with similar symptoms. They tried on one peasant girl, they wrote, and lost a sorcerer in the process. They wouldn’t risk it on Mari, nor will they try it on your mother.”

Loraine took a step backwards and her jaw dropped. “M-mother is sick. But…”

“She and I both. I fear for your health and Fiona’s. I have arranged for you two to leave Bayford. The Nest is said to be lovely this time of the year. Bayford is becoming a dangerous place. Peasants are falling ill and they say Lord Galon’s own heir is dying as well. Mari was not targeted. Some wicked magic has been placed over Bayford.”

“Father, I can’t go to the Nest! My place is here! Please!” Loraine wept once more. “Fiona will love the mountains, but let me stay. Please, Father! I love the sea! I love the beautiful city.”

“You must go. I have arranged safe passage. Lord Galon is a close friend of mine, and is willing to claim you his daughters. You couldn’t have asked for anything more from the world. You will be good enough to marry a lord. You can and will go to the Nest!”

Loraine was about to protest, but was stopped by her father coughing violently once more. He fell forward, knocking the papers from his table. Loraine ran from the room.

She ran to her chambers and muffled her cries into her pillow. “The Nest! Of all places, the Nest! Why not send me to hell already!?”

I cannot go to the Nest. My place is here…

“I will not go to the Nest.” Loraine said aloud.

The girl hefted up a sack and began to fill it with her essential belongings: Coin and a blade. Loraine tucked the red rose in there as well. She changed from the black dress into the clothing her grandmother gave her so long ago. It was clothing her grandmother had worn in her youth, back when she was a mere peasant of Bayford. They would disguise Loraine well enough.

She left a note on her bed and shut left the Cliffside manse behind her. Loraine is dead, she thought. Lanaerin will serve in her place. I am now Lany, a peasant.

Thanks for reading!

 

[*M i d n a*]

And thank you for posting/sharing it. I couldn't contain myself and had to come read this, lol. I know shouldn't even be here after I said I was taken off, but this day I came back merely to talk to Aurelia about some possible art. But anyway, I read it and I really liked it. It was sad, too. I hope you remain strong with this, and don't worry about your other story, I know that sometimes projects don't work as well as we writers think they will. And yes, give ZD something to read while I am away.

 

[Myriadviper42]

'Tis a pity The Newcomer crashed and burned, as you said, but this story is already shaping up to be pretty interesting. I'll be interested to see what the conflict is gonna be. Can't wait to see where you go with it.

 

[TatlTails]

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay~! New story! Can't wait to see where this goes, I'm really excited for it!

 

[Doc]

And another update with the introduction of a new character. I forgot to mention this at the beginning but this story will be rated T or PG-13, however you want to say it, it isn't a little happy story. Death will be a main theme of this story. It will get get better as the story progresses but as of right now, people will die. (Perhaps a little too much A Song of Ice and Fire(aka, Game of Thrones), where everyone gets murdered).

Spoiler

A storm raged on outside the hall of Lord Marid, water pinged against the windows and thunder shook the great chandelier.

“What kind of bloody storm is this?!” the lord shouted. He was an elderly man, weak and nimble, who required assistance when standing from his seat. His hair was thinning and had a clean shaven face.

“A great and godly one!” the White Priest shouted. “It is a warning from our divine Rahon. Him or his wife, Rohala, in all her great wisdom. We must repent for our sins or they will surely destroy us, my lord.”

“Oh, just shove it, will ya?” a young and large knight shouted. “This is a storm. Nothing more. Surely Summerhill has seen worse than this. Now quit your shouts of warning and sins.”

“Silence, boy! You know nothing of the ways of the gods. Anything and everything is Rahon’s great power at work. I have studied many years at the Holy Tower, and in all of history a storm is a forewarning. Centuries ago, there was a storm, and they all failed to recognize it. In the coming weeks rebellion began and the ancient king was near overthrown. A storm always means something!” the White Priest argued.

“Yeah, this one means I will cut off your head if you don’t shut your mouth!” the young boy bickered as he slid part of his sword out of its sheath.

“Quiet! Stop this arguing or I will have both your heads!” Lord Marid screamed. “I will not have bloodshed in my hall,” he added, out of breath. “Sir Orion, if I hear anymore threats to our beloved priest you will be hanged in the square.”

Orion glared at the priest dressed in robes of white and then to his lord. “Sorry, m’lord.” The knight knelt before Marid. “If m’lord will allow me, I request leave.”

Lord Marid waved his hand forward and looked away. “Go guard the gates or walk the city. What do I care?”

Orion charged out of the hall and pushed the large double doors open. Orion began grumbling to himself, before a voice called from behind him. “Orion!” a stern voice yelled. The young knight swung around to see Captain Randall removing his helm. The captain was older than most, his white and black sanded hair was proof of that. He was a muscular man all the same, and strict one could tell. “What the hell was that in there?! You don’t mock our sworn lord, nor a priest.”

“It was the White Priest! That fat man does nothing but sit on his fat *** and get drunk. A godly man? Pfah! I serve the gods better than he,” Orion exclaimed, removing his helm and letting his dark brown hair loose. A comely young man, he was. And he knew it.

“The White Priest is a close friend to Lord Marid, and cousin to the High Wizard. Nothing good comes out of insulting him. I thought putting you in the castle would teach you to be modest, but clearly I was wrong. I fear that if I don’t get rid of you now, our lord might have you killed.”

Orion’s voice got caught in his throat.

“Sir Orion, I hereby renounce your knighthood. You will be stripped of all honors and titles. I am sorry, Orion. I require your sword and shield, and your cloak as well,” the captain said sadly.

The boy threw his sword and shield on the ground and unclasped the red cloak that attached itself to his armor. Before Captain Randall could say another word, Orion walked off. The rain soaked hair and bled through his armor. He shivered as the cold bit into his flesh, but showed no other signs of discomfort.

“It doesn’t matter,” Orion told himself. “I am a better knight than any other in this godforsaken city. They will come crawling back to me by daybreak tomorrow.”

The streets of Summerhill were empty that night. The storm chased everyone indoors. Whether that was to their homes or a tavern it did not matter. Any other man would fear going outdoors during these times. Murderers and thieves came crawling from their holes like the little worms they were. But Orion was no mere man. He was a swordsman, the best there ever was! Of course, that was before I had to give up my sword. What does it matter? I can fend off any man with my own hands.

Someone screamed.

Orion looked towards the sound and took off running towards the source. Plate mail and running did not go together well, so the going was slow. When he came around a corner an old woman was weeping and cradling something dark and black.

No no no no…” she cried out. “Please! Somebody help me! Please!”

“Lady what is wrong with you!?” Orion shouted over the roar of the storm.

“Please help me! Save him! Find the people who did this! Please help me!”

I can’t help if you do—“ Orion stopped when he noticed the black object extended much farther than the woman’s arms. She held a head, black and scorched. Connected to it was the body of a man, just as burnt.

“Please! He was to be married! My boy, he was so young. I just found him here!” The woman struggled to say the words. “I just found him here…I just found him.”

Thanks for reading and please give feedback. Any criticisms will be greatly appreciated.

 

[TatlTails]

Well hot dang, things are heating up... pun not intended. I like this, I very very much like this! Continue with all haste!

 

[Doc]

Another update! Now that I have gotten most of the introductory parts out of the way, I can begin focusing on more plot stuff, as this part has finally given me opportunity.

Spoiler

“Your Grace, this hooligan has been causing havoc all throughout the city. Lostand will be better with his head. I beg of you, kill this young man,” the knight explained.

“Sir, what is it this boy has actually done?” King Westor asked. “Has he stolen anything? Killed anyone? Done any harm to anyone?”

“I did nothing but preach the corruption of knights and the kingdom. Boys are killed for stealing a simple apple for their dying mothers. Criminals steal from everyone, and the knights let it slip as long as they get coin. Even the city guards are taking from merchants. If the venders refuse, they lose a hand,” Kalrick explained. Of course, he was officially named Kalrick, but went by Kal for short. He was a young man, no older than eighteen. He had thick blonde hair, yet no facial hair still.

The king pondered his words. “Sir, let this man go. He has done no harm to our kingdom nor will he. If he wishes to preach injustices, let him. I fear that by arresting this boy might have well just proved his suspicions correct. Has our city become corrupt?”

“What? N-no, my Grace. The guards sometimes do tax the people, and more often than not they trade their goods in place of gold. But that is all?” the knight lied.

“No matter, I will deal with you in a minute. Boy, you are free to go. Sir Elos, please escort our young little preacher back out of the castle.”

“Excuse me, your Highness,” Kal interrupted. “I would like to make a formal request. In light of these events I have explained to you, I ask that you may allow the people to have trials. Of course, any matters that require you will be brought to you, but perhaps you could appoint some man to be in charge of the justice in the city. To remove any corruption from the streets.”

“I will consider it. Farewell.” The king gave a nod and two knights came and pulled Kal from the hall. He was forced out of the gates and before he could turn back the portcullis was raised.

“He is going to do it,” Kal told himself reassuringly. “I know he will.” He then proceeded back down the hill, from which he was dragged earlier that morning, to the city of Lostand. A lively place, yet also a dangerous one. Powerful and rich men flock to rest under a king. Powerful and rich men tend to be the most dangerous. Thieves sought gold to survive. Lords sought gold to become greater than the dirt they arise from.

The Holy Tower a few leagues north of the city did little but add to the problem. Sorcerers often go there to study, yet greed takes hold of them. It hasn’t been unheard of for a wizard to kidnap peasants off of the streets and use their bodies for wicked spells. Sometimes it is their blood, sometimes their hearts, and sometimes much worse.

Kalric wandered aimlessly until he returned to the square from where hence he was taken unjustly. In his place, another man stood atop the crate preaching of injustices within Lostand. An older man, in his mid-30’s with hair as dark as pitch and a clean shaven face. His eyes were gentle as was his smile, yet his nose was pushed against his face. A pig nose, some men would mock.

“Ah!” the man shouted, “a perfect example of the wrongdoings of our city. This man here—“

“Y’mean boy!” some unknown voice cried out from the crowd.

The man ignored him and continued, “This man here was taken to the king for doing the same as I do here before you. Pulled from the platform and dragged throughout the city because he angered the guards of the great Lostand. What next? Woman being executed for not showing the knights what is under their dresses.”

“Pig, I need to talk to you,” Kal explained.

“Very well! I shall take my leave to allow this poor and innocent soul to describe the cruelty he went through,” Pig announced to the croud.

Pig stepped down from the crate and lead Kal and himself to the nearest pub; a rundown little place full of drunkards and swordsman for hire called The Goose’s Egg.

“What harm did they do to you?” Pig asked with a crooked smile upon his face.

“They dragged me, that was all. The king did not seem to know what was happening in the city,” Kal told his friend.

“Course he don’t! He spends all his time in his little castle eating feasts every day and sitting on cushioned feather beds. I am telling you, rebellion is in the air.”

“I proposed the other plan; the people’s trials. He said he would consider it.”

“And you believed him! ‘Considering it’ means he is sick of hearing you whine, so he wants you to get out of his presence so he can eat an entire ****ing pig. He may have just consumed my half-brother!”

Of course, even when he is serious, Pig can’t be serious, Kal thought.

“It is going to happen. I know it will. Trust me on this. We will wait for the coming weeks and if there is no news about it, then you can begin recruiting. Just wait. I can tell he will do this.”

Pig scoffed. “Fine. You got three weeks. If it exists by then, you got three weeks more to prove it is more efficient than rebellion.”

“Thank you, Pig. Trust me, you will not regret this.” Kal stood from the stool he sat upon and returned to the streets.

The people’s trials will begin. I can sense it, I know it. Pig is wrong. Rebellion will lead to death and destruction. There will be nothing left to govern. Either that or we are snuffed out before we are even a spark.

Kal found his home, a small little one room hut at the corner of two streets. A lousy neighborhood he lived in. It stank of urine and excrement and most buildings were close to collapsing. The boy of justice swung the door open and realized his hut was darker than usual. He shut the door and listened quietly.

He heard breathing.

“Hello?” he called out. “Spit, is that you? I told you to stop sneaking in here and taking my food. If you were to just ask—“

“I am not a friend,” a voice croaked out. It was unfamiliar to Kal, it sounded older than any person he had ever known. Kal snatched a cup he left beside the door and held it back defensively.

“What do you want? Gold? You will find none here.”

“I want you,” the voice said. The source snapped its fingers and the candles of Kal’s hut flicked to life. Kal looked upon his intruder, an elderly man with long gray hair, and scrawny. His bones showed through his skin due to a lack of eating.

“A wizard?! You won’t take me. I won’t let you use me for some spell.”

“The tides of fate are shifting, Kalric. Destinies intertwine and the Age of Heroes has begun. Seven exist throughout the land. Seven to find the seven lights, seven to stop the threat of death. A lordly wizard, who has turned back on both. A girl without family whom has fled from pain and risen from sorrow. A knight without honor, stripped for his pride. A mute healer who has never loved nor been. A mercenary with fiery blood and filled with hate. A strategist with a second sight. And a just judge to find them. You must find the others. You must do this or lose everything. Hurry, or all will be lost.”

“What are you—“ The elderly man flicked his wrist and the candles all went out. In his wake, nothing was left.

There was a knock at the door and Kal rushed to answer it.

On the other side, two men in plated armor bearing the sigil of the king stood before him. “Kalric,” one began. “The king has considered your proposal and decided to accept it. After hearing from several witnesses, he has chosen you to be a judge to overlook these people’s trials along with three others. Do you accept?”

A just judge, Kal thought. He nodded and shut the door behind him.

 

[TatlTails]

Ooo, goody! A prophecy, something to look forward to~! Hmm, I wonder which character goes with which prophecy? /sarcasmItotallyknowDagger'sattheveryleast

 

[Doc]

Hi! We return to our beloved character of the past to add another chapter to this subplot! Enjoy and thank you. This is the longest update yet, I will do my best to make shorter ones in the future. Or maybe not...I don't know.

Spoiler

“Girl!” Bo shouted. Lany rushed away from the ill patient’s bedside to the middle aged and portly doctor. “I need you to go get more water from the well. Bring some ocean water as well. And any of the herbs I showed you that you might come across. Do you understand?”

Lany nodded.

“Good!” he exclaimed. “Well, get going! These people are dying!” Lany rushed from the building and out onto the dirt streets.

In the days following her flight, Lany had found a small inn that was converted into a hospital for the sick and dying. Bo had given up business and taken in any who contracted the disease named Velox. The symptoms of the illness were still unknown. Lany had seen several different ones; a boy with boils growing along his flesh, a woman grew a rash and her skin began to crack, and one man came in half-mad and shouting of ghosts. They could tell it was Velox, though. The thin yellow ring surrounding the pupil was unmistakable.

Everyone who came in succumbed to the disease. Bo did his best to keep them alive, but the most he had succeeded in doing was extending their suffering.

I pray Mari did not feel the pain as the rest. Her death was quick, she could not have been tormented for very long. She could not have suffered, Lany thought. She often times found herself thinking of her sisters. Fiona had left three days after Lany ran from home. She was not the same Fiona though. Lany had gone to watch her be escorted out the gates.

“Make room for Fiona Galon!” the city guards shouted down from horseback. Fiona followed afterwards, although not the same Fiona Lany knew. Her eyes were filled with a sadness that could only be brought from loss.

She lost her entire family, Lany had thought. I was all she would have had, and I left without a goodbye. How did father explain my disappearance to her? Or did she find the note herself?

And Fiona’s hair. Her once long hair was hacked away, until it barely reached her shoulders. The beautiful auburn was covered in a thick dye. Her hair color was much closer to that of the lord of Bayford though, a dark brown. It was better this way. Fewer people would deny she was of Galon blood.

Lany walked towards the docks, deciding to go there first. The salty ocean was closer, so getting water from there was quicker and easier. The well would have to wait. Lany realized sunset was fast approaching.

Great. The sea will turn orange under the falling the sun. I always love the orange of sunset.

As she approached the docks, though, the sky was still blue, except for a pink hue that was only noticeable in one area of the sky and in few clouds.

Lany went to the edge of the docks and stepped off them onto the rocks that piled up against the land. She slipped down to the water’s edge where she scooped the water into a jar. Instead of leaving right away, Lany decided to sit and wait.

Mari loved the sunset. She made a habit of sitting beside a window and watching the glowing orb fall beneath the waves. Then every morning, the young girl would do the same to watch it reappear. “I like the dawn much more,” Mari told Lany.

And for that reason, Lany wanted to watch the sunset. For Mari. For Loraine, the girl lost and forgotten.

She found herself lost in the tranquil beauty. The waves reflected the rays in colors more vibrant than their origin. The sky changed from a blue-pink, to an orange, and then to a purple. Lany thought she saw a green glint as the sun fell beneath the horizon, just for a second.

Lany didn’t get up for a moment. She sat there, doing her best to keep the image of it in her head.

“Hey, lady!” someone shouted. Lany looked over to see a man looking down from the docks at her. Lany realized wet lines streaked across her face. She wiped away the tears as quick as she could. “Might wanna get away from there! Tide is coming in.”

Lany tread her way back towards the dock. The water had risen almost to the bottom of the dock. Day had gone and the moon was visible in the purple sky. Lany swore under her breath and ran back towards the center of the city where the well was.

The dirt of the roads was still wet from the storm the night Loraine died and became Lany. Some claimed the storm outstretched to cover the entire kingdom, except for Lostand. Lany heard a few devout shouting that it was a premonition if we do not remove the king. Loyalists claimed it was a sign that King Westor is the rightful king. Lany thought it was just a storm.

The streets became empty by the time Lany reached the well. She saw nobody else and was unsure if she should fear thieves or feel at ease. She chose the latter. Lany liked to think the better.

Lany tied a bucket to a rope and lowered it down into the well.

“Oh, such a pretty girl,” a man shouted. Lany looked towards the source but could not see the voice’s origin. A yellow haze was in its place. “Perhaps I should give you boils. No, that would be too dreadful. To make you look upon your grotesque appearance when you know a lovely face should be there instead.”

“Who is there!?” Lany shouted. The haze was just growing bigger, but she saw the silhouette of someone deep within it. He was walking with the fog, she realized. With each step, armor clacked together. “You’re a knight?”

“I know! I will blind you as well. That way you will never have to see yourself in your illness,” the man continued, ignoring Lany altogether. The stranger clapped mailed hands together, and the haze moved more rapidly.

The thick mist shot towards Lany. She dropped her jar of salt water and ran. The haze continued to follow her through the streets. “Stop!” she shouted. “Please! Stop this sorcery!” The man’s voice was laughing, but she couldn’t see him.

Lany turned down an alley, sprinting out of the haze’s reach.

A dead end.

Lany threw her hands against the wall and banged them. Her attempts were futile. She pressed her back against the end and looked towards the oncoming fog. “Please!” she cried. “Who are you? Stop!”

Lany heard footsteps above her, and a rope ladder fell.

“Climb!” a young woman shouted. A blonde girl, Lany saw, dressed in armor and equipped with a sword at her side. “Are you stupid? Climb!”

Lany grabbed a rung and pulled herself out of the haze’s reach. The mist rolled up after them, but the mysterious stranger lead Lany away from it. She guided Lany to an old home topped with a chimney.

“C’mon,” the girl said before climbing down the chimney.

“You have got to be kidding me…” Lany said before pulling herself up and falling through the pipe. She landed on top of burnt wood and was covered in soot and ash.

“You should be safe in here. Just wait it out, I guess and you can go in the morning,” the savior explained.

“Who are you?” Lany asked.

“Name’s Bella. And you?”

“Lor…Lanaerin. But call me Lany.”

“Lanaerin? Boy is that a mouthful.” Bella grabbed an apple and took a large bite out of it. “What were you even doing out there anyways? Shouldn’t be out at night.”

“I was getting water. Then the man said he was going to blind me and give me boils…then the haze just attacked me. But you saved me. You saved me. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for anything. I had a dream the other day and knew I should be out there tonight. I have been trying to find you for four nights now. Thank Rahon, I finally rescued you.”

“You had a dream?”

“Yeah. Some knight was choking a girl, you, and Velox was consuming her flesh. I shoved my sword up his…well, you don’t need to know where, just know it wasn’t pleasant for him. He turned to a yellow gas and disappeared and the girl was saved.”

Bella acted very casual about her dream coming true.

“You knew this was coming? Isn’t this weird?”

Bella only laughed. “Don’t think yourself special, pretty girl. I get these dreams all the time. Well, not always. I had one where I was with this gorgeous man….yet to come true. I assume it was just a dream. But when I do get them, boy, are they helpful.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, really. Just get some rest and avoid any yellow haze. I won’t be there to save you next time.”

 

[TatlTails]

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiice, stuff is coming aloooooooong. But you can make your chapters as long as you want, I don't care! ^^

 

[Doc]

Alrighty! Please enjoy this update about our lovable (ex) knight. The next update will come before the end of the week. Classes are off so I have had a lot of free time, so I am spending perhaps a 1/3 or so on planning and writing this story. This one will most likely end, because I have better planned out the events and what I intend to do with each chapter.

Spoiler

Orion walked through the cobblestone streets clad in boiled leather under the wares of a peasant. After he found the poor lad in the streets—Obus, his mother said his name was—Orion went to search for those who had done that to the dead man. He found nobody.

He was burned inside and out. Orion took it upon himself to watch as the priests prepared the corpse for burial. Or at least, prepare the bones; the bloody White Priest told his underlings the flesh was needless to keep on the structure it once surrounded.

They cut apart the flesh, but even the inside was burnt to a crisp; the only parts saved were the bones.

“This boy must have lit himself aflame. Wizards often do that if their power isn’t sufficiently used,” the fat priest proclaimed. Orion wanted to protest. Obus was not gifted with Rohana’s power. He was a stable boy. If he was truly gifted, he would have known and wouldn’t be living in poverty. But Orion held his tongue.

If I respect him, perhaps Captain Randall would accept me again, Orion thought.

Nobody else had been burned since the storm. The priests all believed the White one’s words to be true. “Perhaps if he opened his eyes as wide as his mouth, he wouldn’t be so stupid.” Orion said to himself.

Orion shoved his way down the crowded street. His sword hung at his side. They can strip me of my knighthood, but they can’t take my talent. I am still a master swordsman.

Grey clouds rolled over Summerhill that evening. The name was ironic, truly. The clouds didn’t prove to be wet, but the skies were overcast.

“No…no…the men will strike again,” Orion heard someone whisper. The stripped knight glanced down an alley where a beggar boy sat against a wall, muttering to himself and biting his nails. “No, they won’t…yes, they will. Yes, they won’t stop. The men will never stop…”

“Eh, kid! You okay?” Orion called to him.

The urchin shot his gaze to Orion with large and fearful eyes. His breathing was slow and steady, but the boy was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Are you okay?” Orion asked once more.

As the words rolled off his lips, the beggar leapt to his feet and darted down the alley way. He disappeared around the corner.

Orion moved to go after him, before a hand halted him. “The boy is fine,” an elderly woman told Orion. She carried a basket of carrots and barley. “He won’t do any harm.”

“What is wrong with him?” Orion asked.

“His name is Thomas. A troubled boy, I fear. Talks only to himself,” the woman explained, placing two carrots and some barle in the spot Thomas had been. “I don’t want you causing that boy any trouble.”

“He said something about men? Something about them killing again. If he knows about a crime, I need to know. On my honor as a kni—“ Orion stopped himself before continuing.

“He just says things. Don’t bother the boy. Now, get away from here. He don’t need some brute asking him questions. He doesn’t like questions.” The woman entered the inn that sat across the street from the alley.

Orion found a tavern further down the road. He didn’t bother to read the name. The bartender slammed a mug of wine in front of Orion, which he was more than happy to accept. He chugged down the bitter drink and then took out a stack of coins. He placed two bronze one’s down. One for the first, and another for another mug.

“Eh, pal. You shouldn’t be showing off coin like that,” a slimy man explained.

“I don’t get scared easily. What cities are nice this time of the year? Or what about the lands across the sea? Dyou know anything about those?” Orion asked.

“Why would I know about the Shadow Cities? Ain’t nobody go there.”

“Just thought it would be a good place to go. Nothing is keeping me here in Summerhill any longer. Besides, someone must have gone there before. Else how would we know about them? Are they really as bad as they say? Warlocks? Beasts? Thieves?”

“I don’t have a clue. You won’t get a ship to go there. Eh, buddy, give me the coins you got,” the slimy man commanded nervously, slowly unsheathing a knife and pressing it close to Orion’s stomach. “Give it here and nobody gets hurt.”

Orion laughed. “Oh, big mistake, guy.” Orion smacked the blade from the thief’s hand and drew his own longsword. Orion grabbed the man by his shoulder and spun him so his sword was to the thief’s neck.

The other people in the tavern stared at them. A few drunkards shouted for Orion spill his blood.

“Next time you want to rob someone, make sure you don’t lose your weapon.”

Orion threw the man down and strode out the door. Night had fallen in Summerhill and the streets were dark and dim. He sheathed his sword once he was out and began to whistle in the silence.

A hand appeared out of the corner of Orion’s eye and wrapped itself around his mouth. The attacker pulled Orion off of the streets.

This guy really wants to rob me.

Orion realized the arm was skinnier than the thief’s was. “Shh…shh,” a voice whispered. Orion noticed a pair of carrots lying on the ground. “They will kill you if they find you. Shh.”

Three men dressed in robes walked the streets. Orion couldn’t make out their faces. The stripped knight stopped struggling and the attacker released. He turned to see the face of the beggar boy, Thomas. He was a blonde boy, covered in dirt and mud. His clothes were a basic brown leggings and a muddy white long-sleeved shirt. On top of the shirt he wore a cloak that hung to his chest.

“The bad men,” he whispered.

Orion looked back when he heard the tavern doors swing open. The thief stumbled out pushed by some force Orion could not see from the alley. “And stay out!” someone called. Orion assumed it was the bartender.

“Rahon burn you all!” the thief shouted. He managed to stand back up and then noticed the hooded men. “What the **** do you want, freaks?”

One of the men chanted something as he slowly approached the thief.

“Uro,” he said, as he touched a bare hand to the thief’s shoulder. The hooded man nudged him, causing the thief to stumble backwards.

“What are—“ the thief began. He began to cry out as his shoulder caught aflame. The fire spread throughout his body, masking every inch of his flesh. This fire was different than any Orion had seen before. Its color was not that of normal flames. No, this fire burned purple.

In a matter of moments, the thief fell backwards. His appearance was not different than that of the stableboy, Obus.

“Asa,” one of the other men spoke up in a shrill voice. “Must you take so long? Make it quick and simple next time. You won’t have time for a spectacle like that when in the castle.”

“Shove it, Aduro,” the one supposedly called Asa spoke. “This isn’t the castle, Lord Marid’s men will burn much quicker. It’s a gloomy night; I just wanted to light things up a little.” Asa began to chuckle maniacally.

The third man backhanded Asa to stop his laughter. “Silence! Both of you. You have no idea who may be watching,” he said in a deep voice.

The two apologized nervously.

“The others will be waiting at the castle gates. If they start without us because you two insolent fools were bickering…let’s just say you will wish you were that lad over there,” the third man continued, motioning towards the dead thief.

They fled the streets towards the castle.

“Oh, no,” Orion said under his breath.

“You won’t make it. They touch you, you die. You die,” Thomas explained. “You die,” he repeated. “You die.”

And, whoever is reading this, be excited for the next update, where one of the most infamous characters seen on ZD (mostly in the RP section) will make an appearance!

 

[TatlTails]

Oh boy, I wonder who that could be? EEEEEEEEEEEEP! This chapter was epic, I loved et, things're gettin' serious~ BUT YAY HE'S COMING SOOOOOOON!

 

[Doc]

I had meant to have this here much earlier, but I had been waiting to revise it when I foolishly shut my laptop off. I didn't save my work, so I had to rewrite the entire thing. Wasn't as encouraged to do it by that point, but...I was able to get it done, and in better quality than the original. Well, now that I am done complaining, here you go!

Spoiler

Kal’s vision blurred as he stared at the sheets before him. The exhaustion that followed the title of judge was more than he had expected. In truth, he was simply bored. When he imagined the people’s court, Kal thought that he would be making a change in the world. Some cases did change Lostand for the better, especially ones involving the corrupted guards. But most were small men with small complaints.

The other two judges seemed unaffected by the tiresome work. To Kal’s right sat Quinn Amberstone. Born Quinn L’zanter, he was a lordly man in the southern kingdom of Mayin. He was convicted of treason and was meant to be executed. Quinn escaped Mayin and changed his surname to Amberstone. His name was quickly known, and soon became a close friend to King Westor.

Sitting to Kal’s left was Patrice Logston. Some say she was beautiful and joyful in her youth, but now she was an ugly widow, with a scowl permanently smeared across her face. After the death of her husband eight years ago, the woman dressed only in blacks to mourn him.

“Kalric?” Patrice snapped. “Are you even paying attention? Kalric!”

Kal jumped from his thoughts and back into reality. A shackled man stood before the judges, dressed in a black cloak that covered most of his body. Underneath, he wore the typical clothing of any homeless man or poor beggar: brown leggings and a long sleeve shirt. He looked like any other commoner aside from the fiery hair he grew atop his head.

“Uh, yes,” Kal began. He rubbed his eyes and pulled up the papers. “Winston Cunningham, is it?”

The man on trial glared up at Kal with a pair of icy blue eyes. “Dagger,” he spat out.

“Excuse me? Is that a threat?!” Patrice exclaimed.

“People call me Dagger, you ugly old bat. Why would I threaten you when chained up like this?” he said, showing his shackled hands.

“Very well, Dagger,” Kal said. “You have been arrested for the murder of a,” Kal glanced back at the paper, “Harry Cromston. Do you deny this?”

“Yeah, I did it. That bloody ******* was a wizard. Now, if we are done with this farce of a trial, can I go now?”

Quinn burst out in laughter. Patrice glared at the foreign judge, before turning her attention back to Winston ‘Dagger’ Cunningham. “Winston, due to the nature of your crimes, you will be executed publicly on the morrow.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Dagger asked. “I killed a lousy man. That constitutes execution?”

Quinn was the one to answer. “Harry Cromston was an advisor to the High Wizard. It is a miracle you killed him, rumor has it he is very powerful, but it would be an insult to sorcerers everywhere to leave you alive.”

Dagger glared at the judges once more. “Fine, I don’t even care anymore. Hang me, behead me, I don’t care. Just make sure it will be clean.” The criminal spat on the ground before being escorted away by a knight.

A mercenary with fiery blood and filled with hate, Kal thought. Dagger’s hair was certainly fiery, and he looked like a mercenary. Dagger was the name of one who was skilled with such a weapon. The dagger was weapon known by any assassin.

Kal sat through the rest of the days begrudging tasks. He bore through the journey to decide whether or not to give a convicted knight a retrial (he didn’t) and listened to a woman whine about a man attacking her (she was lying) and sat through a trial deciding the fate of a thief (prison, as it always was for thieves).

His mind was still trapped on Winston Cunningham.

I must go find him.

“Excuse me,” Kal spoke up. “I feel as though I am becoming ill. Would you mind terribly if I were to leave early for a rest?”

Patrice scowled at him, and Quinn could care less. “Fine,” the widow answered. “We can handle the rest from here.”

Kal stood from his chair and held his stomach although it was in pain. Outside the court doors, a guard stood ready to prevent any hoodlums from charging in.

“Sir Hoster?” Kal said to the armored man. “I have needs to go to the dungeons. A criminal would be there, one that I require audience with. A few more questions.” The knight nodded and escorted Kalric through the streets of Lostand. At the end of an alley, a door was locked shut and a barred window was placed at eye length.

Sir Hoster revealed a key and unlocked the thick oak door for Kal. Beyond was a staircase that descended into darkness.

“Thank you, sir. I can manage myself from here.” The knight nodded once more.

Sir Hoster held the keys up to Kalric. “You need these to get out. We can’t leave the door open or unlocked when not guarded, and my place is at the court.”

“Of course,” Kal said, taking the key ring from the guard. He then proceeded down the steps into the abyss of the dungeons.

Men glared at Kal as he made his way through. Thick bars protected him, but that didn’t prevent any from trying to reach through and pull him in close. Kal managed to avoid any convicted criminals until he found a figure sitting in a lone jail cell. Its hood was pulled up, but tufts of red hair still made themselves noticeable.

“Winston?” Kal asked. The imprisoned man didn’t react. “Dagger?”

“What do you want? Come for me early?”

Kal squatted down to be at eye level with Dagger. “Did he come to you too? The old man?”

Dagger glanced up to Kalric. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“An old man came to me in my home. He said I needed to find the seven. He said the Age of Heroes is beginning and the seven need to find the seven lights. Do you know anything about this?”

“You’re already taking my head. Must you bore me in my final hours as well?”

“Never mind, that doesn’t matter. Just tell me, are you a mercenary? I assume that is why you killed the wizard.”

“Yeah, right. I killed that wizard ‘cause he was a bloody wizard. Hate them and their stupid kind. But I do what I need for a good piece of gold, you got that right. Not everyone can be a fanciful lordling boy,” Dagger spat.

“Dagger…I believe you might have been a part of the prophecy. I need you to help me. There are five others. We need to find them. The fact that you exist is proof of the prophecy’s legitimacy.” Kal stood and took out the key ring. The imprisoned looked up and stood as well.

“You’re letting me out? This is some trap.”

“No. I need you to go find the five others. My duty is here in Lostand, but you can look in the other cities. The Nest, Pateridge, Bayford, anywhere,” Kal answered, unlocking the cell door.

“Sure, I will go do that.”

“Dagger. I need this. I am trusting you.”

Winston Cunningham pushed Kal to the side and strode towards the steps.

“Wait, you need the keys to get out!” Kal called to him. The mercenary threw up his hand showing the pair of keys in his own hands instead of his own.

“See you soon, buddy ‘ol pal!” Dagger shouted. “Don’t forget the keys!” he called before he disappeared up the steps and shut the door behind him, leaving Alex trapped in the dark.

 

[TatlTails]

PfffffffffBAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA THAT WAS PERFECT! YOU TOTALLY GOT DAGGER RIGHT! I LOVED THAT! LIKE, SO MUCH! JUST, YES. HECK BLEEPING YES. YEEEEEEEEES!

 

[Doc]

Yay! Guess what time of the week it is! The time I decide to get this done instead of wasting my time! Here ya go, a new update!

You might be expecting a Lany chapter, however that is not the case. I had to rearrange things to get the time to make sense.

Spoiler

Orion shoved Thomas to the side. The beggar refused to stop following him. The overcast sky grew darker once night was upon them, and the clouds grew as well. The sky thundered, but Orion saw no lightning and it had yet to rain.

“Kid, do you know how many of these sorcerers there are?”

Thomas didn’t look Orion in the eyes, but rather to the ground. “So many...they are going to burn us all.”

Orion looked towards the castle. He could spot a tower, but that was all there was to see. Orion began to walk with a stride. That stride soon became a jog. And that jog became a sprint.

Am I even ready? All I have is a sword. I don’t even have proper armor. No, it doesn’t matter. I can fight off some cowardly sorcerers who touch to burn. Orion was out of breath by the time he reached the gates of Lord Marid’s castle. The portcullis wasn’t raised, but the bars glowed yellow and was twisted to the shape of man.

A few corpses dressed in the armor of true knights laid off to the side of the courtyard. “Sir Clifton,” Orion realized. “And Sir Knowlton. And Sir Warit. They killed them.”

Orion heard Thomas whisper behind him, “Three knights dead. One knight stands no chance.”

“You see,” Orion began glancing back towards the young beggar and unsheathing his long sword, “I am no knight.” He took steps towards the castle gates, ready to fight off any robed figures. He spied a few other corpses, but found it best to avoid figuring what friends they had been in life.

Orion pushed the wide oaken doors of the castle open, with Thomas peeking through like a little mouse. The inside was a massacre.

Corpses laid strewn about the grand hall. Knights pushed off to the sides. Servants burned, with piles of roasted beef and goblets of wine fallen around them. And Lord Marid, still sitting in his throne. Most of his weak flesh was gone, showing the bones that had once been the old man’s structure.

And there was no sign of the robed men.

“They are gone,” Thomas whispered. “No, they aren’t. I know they aren’t.”

Orion heard a shriek from higher above them. “The tower.” He looked about the bodies around him. “They wouldn’t have gone up there if Lord Marid was their target.” Orion ran the way he remembered to being the way towards the tower.

He had gone their only once before. He had gone there to watch Obus be stripped of his flesh and prepared for burial. The White Priest’s own chambers. Thomas followed behind rather easily. Orion still did not know why the kid stuck with him instead of fleeing.

At the top of the tower, the White Priest’s chamber doors were forced open. Furniture was knocked from their usual neat and tidy placement into piles that burned viciously in flames; the red and yellow that flames should be.

The balcony doors swung wide open, and an obese figure dressed in flowing robes of white stood. Orion began to call to the White Priest before a hooded man slunk out of the shadows.

“Hello there, friend,” the hooded man said slowly. Orion realized it was the same man he saw in the streets. The White Priest quickly turned around.

“So you finally came. There is no point in asking me anything. I would rather die than tell you where it is at,” the White Priest replied.
The hooded man stepped forward, unsheathing a dagger. “You will tell me, or watch the world you see burn. Where is the light? Where are the heroes? Tell me now!”

“And why should I tell you? The world will burn, regardless if I tell you. If I don’t, though, than we have a fighting chance.”

“You will tell me because it is my lord’s wishes, you fat fool!” the hooded man roared. “The shadows will rise again and consume everything!”

The fat priest scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Fine,” the sorcerer spat. He thrust the dagger deep into the White Priest’s stomach. The priest clutched the balcony.

“NO!” Orion cried out, getting the sorcerer’s attention. Orion charged forward, sword in hand to attack the foe. The sorcerer disappeared in a flash of smoke and flame. “White Priest, what is going on?” Orion asked, kneeling down to the bleeding man.

The White Priest looked at Orion with wide eyes. “I was blind not to see it. You are one,” he coughed. “Quick, you must flee this land. Find the others….the judge will tell you more. He will understand. Go, Orion.” The priest’s eyes slid shut and he felt colder.

Orion shut his eyes and held the fat man’s head up. “I never knew his real name.”

“Oh, gods,” Thomas muttered. Orion glanced up to what the beggar was talking about.

Flames cascaded down from the sky. Like rain. “We need to go,” Orion said as one hit the balcony, exploding upon impact to nothing but air.