The Seed of Life ~ Rorig, Kyonos and others

[Anne]

The two dwarf’s and the pixie all stood before what was left of the Giants Wall; it seemed that perhaps Rorig might know something, after all he seemed to find the wall with very little effort. The light had almost gone as the trio examined the work of mason’s long since dead there wasn’t going to be much they could do now other than to sleep on the happenings of the day and start afresh in the morning.


The suns rose bright in the autumn sky, a cold chill tinged the air of what appeared to be a brightening full of promise. The meadow ran on for miles off in one direction whilst in the other lay the famous Dolwoods and the remnants of a wall. The leaves on the trees were ablaze with color; red’s yellow, rusty browns not to mention the still vibrant green of those not yet beginning to turn.

Geordie came awake with a start. Somewhere close by there seemed to be a battle going on; if that were case he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could hear the sounds of shouting close by but nowhere could he see the source of the noise, he could hear the sounds of arrow’s flying through the air. This was no place for a tiny pixie to be….

[Kyonos Weatherstone]

The two dwarfs and the pixie all stood before what was left of the Giant's Wall; Kyonos came to realize that Rorig knew a good deal about the forest, he found the wall in a short time and was able to go there directly. Once the light began to fade it became apparent that there was no point in examining the work of masons' long since dead. There was not going to be much they could do now other than to sleep on the happenings of the day and start afresh in the morning.


When the suns rose bright in the autumn sky, Kyonos got up at about the time as the Pixie. There were some strange goings on. Somewhere close by there seemed to be a battle going on. He could hear the sounds of shouting close by but nowhere could he see the source of the noise, he could hear the sounds of arrow’s flying through the air. The Dork's facial expression indicated that Geordie was a bit puzzled at well. This was a strange situation but he had heard more than once that when one approached the Dolwoods, strange events were likely to be encountered.

[Rorig]

Rorig was quite satisfied that he had made it back to the Giant’s Fence. What he had at first thought was a curious sort of cliff or outcropping of rock had in fact been made by the hands of mortals. And not just any mortals, but by the hands of dwarves like himself. He marveled at this. How could a people carve up rock like so much meat and create such a structure? Even in its dilapidated condition, the wall was still impressive. The ruins of this spur of it were some 50 feet wide and at times 20 feet high. He wondered what it must have been like when it was new.

When Kyonos gave him the hammer, he took it with care into his hands and said, “Yours.” Pointing to the second hammer Kyonos pulled out of his pack, he said, “Mine.” And started a series of low groans and grunting in his approval. After a minor correction in his vocabulary, Rorig circled around several times, found a nice flat piece of rock to law upon, and was soon curled up upon it fast asleep, the hammer still cradled in his arms.

The unnatural sound the battle woke Rorig with a start. He immediately leaped down from his perch and looked around. He recognized some of the sounds; the yelling of people, the ‘zip, zip’ sound of arrows. Other sounds were alien to him though. But with his friends nearby his heart was strengthened and he soon climbed to the top of a pile of rubble to carefully look about and see what was going on.

[Morte Embersong]

The three suns that encompassed the world in light.

Morte despised them each with a loathing passion.

She stalked through the forest adorned in pitch black armor befitting even an overlord of shadows. It was Laroa's, the long dead headmistress of the collegium of dark arts in the vysstichi realm of vortex. It was lavished in engravings and decorations it was flawless its craftsmanship was one of excellence. No longer just protective metal, but a work of art. It would have been enough to make any shadow knight envious and jealous.

In an outstretched hand was a scimitar its blade carried a tinge of light blue, it was made of elven steel finely crafted and easily wield able.

These riff raff were going to be in for a treat, she heard there shouts and arrows were singing through the trees.

Her left hand quickly closed the face plate to her helm and she was off, following the sounds of shouts through the thicket. She would be cruel and merciless, to have feelings was to be weak after all. To be cold was to be strong, and with strength comes fear, and with fear comes respect and obedience.

But why was a half elf vysstichi in zerdargia of all places?
Believe it or not, it was a mistake, a miscalculation.
A wrong turn if you will on a treasure map she had obtained.

Her approach was steadfast and swift, she thought she was closing in on an archer and her sword was ready to take a head.

[Kyonos Weatherstone]

His concentration on the sound of what seemed to be very strange was interupted by a thought as to how they might investigate this. Kyonos turned to the Pixie and said, "Hey Dork, I have an idea about this battle we hear but can't see. It just might be on the other side of the wall. Let me throw you over the wall. Once you're on the other side you can call out to me and Rorig and let us know what is going on there. Come on over and let's get you over there." Since Geordie has done nothing but be a pest, the Dwarf figured that he'd jump at the chance to make himself useful.

Before the Pixie could reply, Kyonos heard the sound of metal against metal and it was coming toward them. He placed his hands next to his weapons and looked toward the sound. The sight that he beheld was a total surprise. It was a person wearing pitch black armor. It was lavished in engravings and decorations. In an outstretched hand was a scimitar, its blade carried a tinge of light blue.

This individual was coming in their direction. The manner was threatening, causing the Dwarf to draw his Battle Axe in one hand and his War Hammer in the other. The fact that this person was wearing armor indicated a readiness to attack. Judging by the scimitar this just might be an Elf so Kyonos raised his Battle Axe and War Hammer a bit. He stepped forward and assumed a stance ready to shift to either an offensive or defensive mode.

[Morte Embersong]

Emerging from the thicket and being greeted by a startled dwarf, battle hammer in one hand battle axe in the other. It made Morte stop, almost suddenly.

Had she gone into dwarf country? Did she end up in zerdargia? How deep was she?

It looked as though there was only one choice even though it would torment her inner core in ways unimaginable, her outstretched arm lowered slowly in disbelief. She needed to gain a faction and the dwarves were a better choice then them light elves but not by much.

They did not understand the emotions and passions she felt towards just about anything, when she fought it was not out protection but out of the love of battle itself. She fought with every fiber of her being not because she valued her life, but because the thrill of battle affected her in ways that these surface dwellers could not imagine. Her enemies she loathed them, she hated them in ways that could not even be comprehended by mere dwarves or arrogant light born elves. It was not a dislike or distaste of there species but a near psychopathic rage driven by emotions into shear lunacy. Her brothers and sisters cast out of trelore, she had a desire for vengeance today a vampiric blood lust for elven blood that could not be quenched, that would never be quenched.

The dwarves on the other hand, had a problem of digging there homes into the vysstichi enclaves. It was an irritation, they were merely just minor set backs and problems in her eyes. Like uninvited guests. Or that buddy that drinks brews in the basement of your home and says he's going to get a job tomorrow. It was against everything she stood for to ally with them, but on the other hand if she could spill light born blood then so be it. Anything for vengeance, she would massacre what she hoped were elves and let them rot in the forest.

Her sword was down, and left arm raised up and her index finger pointed onward towards the sounds of battle. She was trying to tell the armed dwarf, that she was heading towards that battle.

Morte did not try to speak to them, they would not understand her native tongue nor would she expect them ever to be able to learn it. It was a proud language, a complicated tongue and dwarves to her would never meet the standard of being able to communicate in such a noble dialect

[Kyonos Weatherstone]

The individual in black armor stopped, giving Kyonos an opportunity to eye the weapon and the armor more carefully. By the looks of it, the sword was that flimsy Elven Steel. The armor was probably the same. Even with the armor, the interloper presented a dainty physique. That's two reasons to think it was an Elf. Bad enough to be listening to a battle that cannot be seen, now this thing in a metal cacoon shows up to complicate things even more. Then the outstretched arm holding the sword was lowered slowly. Finally the sword was down. As Kyonos was trying to decide whether or not to cleave open the armor, the black armor thing raised it's left hand pointing to the sound of battle.

Whether the sword was pointed at him or not, the Dwarf was ready for a fight. He had not been in a good fight since that Dracon in Paxia. The Dwarf stepped forward and asked, "Why all that metal around you? Why is your face covered? Are you that ugly? Instead of pointing, try talking. Who are you and what are you doing here? You don't look like you belong in Zerdargia.

"Speak up!"

Both his Battle Axe and War Hammer were still at the ready.

[Morte Embersong]

The dwarf may have been ready for a fight, but he was not going to get one from Morte less provoked.

Her elven steel scimitar was at her side but nevertheless ready to be reared up into fighting position, he had a lack of respect for elven steel it may have been flimsy compared to dwarven steels but what it lacked in brute strength and weight it made up for with speed and finess just one graceful swing or cleave from her sword would be enough to seperate both flesh and bone as easily as a hot knife glided through churned butter.
Not too mention the control she had even with just one hand on it was amazing, even if she lacked true battle talents and skills.

But why put so much faith in this, when her wrist bow would have had enough force to pierce leather and flesh in one fell swoop? He may have been ready, both weapons in hand but he lacked any composition of a defensive measure against her merely raising her arm and blasting him with a poisoned bolt in his chest.
Nightshade was deadly.
It was enough to kill a man in 5 minutes, a dwarf in possibly 10.
But those last few minutes of life would be agonizing and cruel in such measures and ways it would be almost impossible to imagine.

Her armor?
She did not even know what types of materials it was made from, for all she new it could have been made from adamantite. It could very well have been enchanted too, but without having the ability to use arcanic artifacts any thing it did have was for now useless to her.

If you want a fight from me dwarf, your not going to get it.
Im not interested in fighting your ilk.
But if there are light elves about in the forest, and you seek to partake in battle.
Then I see no reason why we cant be friends.
Wouldn’t you rather have another blade on your side.

If you want to know more about me, maybe we should deal with the lot in the forest first.

hmmmm?

The way she spoke allerian was not normal, certain letters and vowels came out different when she pronounced them. Like this was not her native tongue, it sounded elven but not exactly.

[Kyonos Weatherstone]

The lowering of the sword reduced the air of hostility but it certainly did not eliminate it. The armor had no purpose except as protection in a fight. The closed visor masked the identity of the person behind it. He wondered why that was needed unless the identity alone would prove the individual to be potentially hostile. Then the Dwarf noticed that the wristbow was cocked, ready to fire. He held his hammer up in a position from which he could easily throw it if the wristbow was being oriented toward him. He considered the wristbow to be not much more than a toy but should the bolt by chance hit, it could be troublesome to say the least. Actually, Kyonos had little respect for anyone who used a range weapon. A true warrior strives for physical contact.

Then the stanger spoke. Though the stated intentions seemed reasonable and voiced no threat, the Dwarf was not in the least ready to trust this person. Before he would even consider a peaceful coexistance some things had to be taken care of. "Talk can be just a bunch of noise. First unload the wristbow. Then remove your helm. You're not going to be dealing with anybody but me until you do that."

[Morte Embersong]

The only thing the dwarf had to say was do this and do that, she was starting to get sick of it fast.
And why on earth would she remove a weapon that was keeping him from attacking her?
Plus that helm would be great protection, if he decided to throw his hammer at her.

She already told the dwarf what he needed to know.
She had already stated her reasons of intent.
And she already proved herself not to be hostile towards the dwarf by putting up with him this long.

Asking me to un hinge my crossbow, and take off my helm.
Is like me asking you too drop your hammer and axe.
Its not going to happen.

And are you going to make me stand here all day?
Im getting tired of waiting for you too trust me, don’t you think if I was hostile I would have already attacked you?

Im not going to continue waiting on you, I will go to that fight myself, or you two can come with me.
Its your choice, but id rather get there before we miss everything.

Morte was serious, she had no quarrel with leaving the dwarves behind and being on her way towards the sounds of fighting. Whatever they were fighting about must have been some what important, and Morte did not want to waste her time doing this when she could be doing that instead.

[Rorig]

The arrival of the black metal-clad being so close to them took Rorig by surprise. He could not understand the words it and Kyonos were using, but he could read their body language well enough. They distrusted one another. They were ready to leap at each other like a pair of pounce panthers fighting over the same kill. He found this curious. His experience in the Dolwoods had not taught him such behavior. If there was no food or mates to fight over and if one was not the predator of the other, why act thus? He listened for a moment at the ringing of the battle nearby, then looked at Kyonos, and then the black figure. Its forepaws were oddly shaped. One being long and thin, the other more wide with odd protrusions on it that reminded Rorig of some bone deformities he had seen in badgers. Its face was much like that of a crayfish; a shell-like carapace with holes. He wondered if here were eyestalks inside those holes.

He leapt down from his perch and, setting his hammer aside, approached the odd creature. He had seen just about every living thing in the Dolwoods, but nothing like this. He cocked his head to one side as he approached, sizing up the thing. As he got closer, he saw the stringy wisp that connected the tips of the bone protrusions to the forepaw and wondered if that was some kind of decoration. Not understanding concepts like personal space, the dwarf walked right up to within a few feet of the thing and thought, ‘Must be a beetle.’

[Anne]

Geordie was almost always cheerful; a happy go lucky little pixie at best but the approach of the black clad stranger along with the noise of a battle somewhere close by was way too much for him. With a look of horror on his face he took a flying leap grabbing a hold of Kyonos’ beard and hiding behind the bristles. It took a few minutes for his poor little heart to stop pounding before he parted the beard in the middle and poked his small head through just enough to see what was going on.

By all appearances Kyonos (his savior in his moment of need) seemed to be ready to do battle with the strange black clad creature. On the other hand Rorig was getting much to curious for one who did not understand the way of things in the wider world. It was at the precise point that Geordie went to open his mouth that he thought he espied an elf lurking in the trees not too far from where they were gathered. The elf seemed to be watching the little group of travelers gathered by the giant’s wall as if waiting for something.

”Oi Kyonos… there’s an elf over in the trees; can you see him?’ he shouted as he twisted about to get a look up at the face of the dwarf whose beard he was seeking shelter in.

All the while this was going on the sounds of a fierce battle was still being played out without any appearance of ending soon.

[Kyonos Weatherstone]

Kyonos was momentarily distracted when Geordie leaped on him and hid within the Dwarf's fine red beard. Surprisingly the man in black armor did not take advantage of this diversion. Maybe he could be trusted after all.

However, rather than do what Kyonos asked, the man in metal had come up with lame excuses for not showing himself or removing the bolt from the crossbow. There was no reason to hide behind the visor. He doubted that the visor would offer any significant protection against a Hammer thrown in ernest. Then there was that silly contraption on his wrist. Should the tin man fall or even stumble against something, that gadget might go off and there was no telling were the bolt might go.

He decided to close in on there stranger, but checked himself when Rorig walked up to the stranger. Kyonos was concerned about the Dwarf's safety and stood ready to throw his Hammer. After Rorig closed the distance, Kyonos was confident that the lad could take care of himself bare handed and stood easy.

When Geordie called out about an Elf in the trees, Kyonos' attention was turned to that. Sure enough there was an Elf in the trees. With the man in metal probably being what he said and Rorig close enough to him to handle whatever might come, he left that matter to Rorig. With his weapons already drawn, the Dwarf high tailed it toward the Elf.

[Elithirl Loran]

It has been nearly a era ago since the beginning of the “dreams”. At that time Elithirl was a corporal in the Arakmatan Army and lived a very carefree life. His days were filled with training and errands for the army. Aside from pleasing his superiors, Elithirl had not a single worry in the world. This carefree life ended abruptly with the beginning of the unnatural “dreams”.

Started soon after receiving a slight blow to the head during training, the vividly realistic dreams plagued Elithirl sleep every single night. From battle with the undead to the events that lead to the lost of his love, Elithirl was often awaken during in the middle of the night. His sleep was affected so much that it became unnaturally hard to do his daily tasks. However, Elithirl was stubborn and he was not about to leave this life just based on some stupid dreams. So day after day he labored on; training and working under a few hours of unsettling sleep.

Cycles passed by and the dreams that use to be sporadic is now a constant event. Elithirl mind was flooded with imagery so vivid that he could swear he was there himself. But how could that be? He had no memory of ever being there. It was impossible or was it. Apparently along with the dreams, Elithirl has also gained some unique powers. He became capable of seeing matter and energy. He was able to move things with his mind. He was even able to teleport small objects. It was obvious to Elithirl at that point that the “dreams” were not just some random nightmares but something more. Wanting to know more, Elithirl left the Arakmatan Army and began his search for self identity.

A era has passed and Elithirl has regained all but a few fragment of his lost memory. Yes, the dreams that plagued Elithirl a era ago was merely memory that he lost. How did he lose those memories? Well he hasn’t figured that part out yet and that’s part of the reason why he was in Zerdargia.

Dressed in a dusty and old traveling cloak, Elithirl was on his way to investigate the Dolwood. A part of his newly regained memories has indicated that the last thing he was doing before the lost of his memory was journeyman traveling. He was searching for ways to learn more about the arcane art of sorcery and arcana in general and what better place to learn than the mystical Dolwood.

With his traveling cloak tightly around him and his hood up shielding his face, Elithirl moved along the trees in silence. He had heard from travelers the story of the Giants Wall and knew elven kind was not welcomed in this part of the country. Although he was merely a half-elf and a very human one at that, Elithirl didn’t want to give anyone a reason to start a fight. So staying within the shadows of the trees, Elithirl moved along the remnant of the Giant’s Wall silently.

The silence did not last long. Sound of fighting could be heard in the crisp morning air. Resting one hand on his sword hilt, Elithirl closed his eyes and calmed his thoughts. He was trying to slip into clara, a state of mind that will allow him to cast spells quickly. He had no intension of fighting anyone, but everyone knows it was better to be prepared than not.

[Morte Embersong]

~When Minora and Majora are full and bright, like bite marks marred across the evening sky.
I pray for a new beginning, bathed in darkness, where the shade and moons guide me by.
The slaying melody of screams and wails haunts my mortal soul, though the deaths are quick I still feel sick and alas I carry the tole.
But still I carry on this vampiric escapade this my blood soaked masquerade.
For when I strike there’s no humane compassion, just a sinful symphony of lust, a reverie of morbid satisfaction.
The blood flows free such gore to see.
No hero came no maiden saved, till silence falls upon hushed lips for a life now fades away
As the dawn approaches, I flee and hide, the darkness my devi to where I confide.
But I do know that under morrows moonlit night, the vicious kiss will strike again to dig deep into mortal veins and then the slaying melody will play again.

Do not think my games are free, there is a price a burden, you shall see.
For I already know the sentence of my fate.
As I’ve seen it in my dreams.
Doomed am I too Jorels hallowed halls of flesh and ghastly screams.
For when Ionnas casts me from his golden gates, he will bare no tears of sadness.

And forever my soul is doomed to accursed walls of madness. ~

Morte was thinking of a poem she was working on, while things were starting to take form.

This was until she saw the almost frenzied approach of the other dwarf, he was strong but different in a way that Morte could hardly describe. He was either the bravest soul on Teleth, or the most foolhardy. But Rorig dropped his hammer, he carried no hate in his stead fast approach, he was curious maybe.

The half vysstichi had been jaded by pride, the need too impress always lodged within her mind. It may have been due too her mixed heritage of both man and elf. Her taint made her an anomaly, for not only an outcast within the realm of man but dark elf as well. She desired a way too erase cruel words, and cold stares. But it seemed that no matter what she did, Morte would never escape this haunting desire too impress and bedazzle merely to fill a longing emptiness that lay within her black heart.

And there Rorig stood peering upward towards an enigma a mystery cloaked within a masquerade of tempered metal. Morte stood before him proud and graceful like a heavy metal queen ready to cast cold and final judgement upon him. She was a cruel maiden with a passion for death and history of violence, but by some twist of fate there was no fear in Rorigs eyes.

He himself was now an enigma to her.
The essence of innocents so pure like white snow.
Morte reveled in this moments splendor, this revelation that there was indeed more then anguish pain and suffering in the world.

And then Kyonos was off, ready to maul whatever it was that was behind her.
Morte turned her head and saw an elf, though of what race she could not identify due to the helms closed visor.

But Morte had been stricken by curiosity of this wild man.

“Serale”