Generic Fantasy

[Rothene]

The world of Avengrande had a vast continent called Aven surrounded by oceans with no other land in sight for years remained secluded from any threats except those within. The Forerunner race lived in utopian bliss for a time, until the day came when they felt the weakening of Mana, the source of all life. The near perfection of the Forerunners in terms of strength, grace, health, magic and beauty draw too much mana from the land and the world could not support such an existence. Hence the greatest of the Forerunners decided that they as a species should be split in order to lessen the burden of forcing the world to support their existence.

And so, three clans were formed.
Those that chose to inherit Air and Fire took the form of Dragons, at the cost of the ability to breed quickly or retain the knowledge of living in a community.
Those that chose to inherit Water and Earth shrank and became Humans, losing the longetivity and primal superiority in exchange for the abbility to adapt and survive.
Those that chose not to diminish themselves lost their mortal forms, doomed to exist in the astral realm where only thoughts and magic remain. They are the Spirits that have loss their will and identity whose only purpose is to maintain the Mana of the world...and be invoked by magi to power their spells.

After the great change, Dragons and Humans could no longer coexist as they once had, and the War of the Forerunners broke out. Dragons and Humans would fight for every scrap of land. Mountains were flattened and rivers boiled as both unleashed the ancient weapons of the Forerunners, slaughtering brothers and sisters while the Spirits watch silently and feel the pain of the land as it cried a silent cry at Its wayward children. Finally, the land unable to withstand the great powers of Dragons and Human tore itself apart and released the full fury of nature that culled most of the living. Thus the war was brought to an end, both races losing their hold on the Forerunners glorious past.

Broken, the two races retreated and rebuild their broken civilisation. And that was the turning point. Dragons had sacrificed the knowledge of working together and thus they would fight each other for territory while the humans would multiply quickly and build cities. Humans worked in large groups to take down the ancient Dragons, killing them and claiming their territory. Though Dragons were mighty, Humans found magic to pierce through their scales. Their power of Earth and Water gave them the inheritance of great understanding of the land and water, allowing them to grow crops and flourish. The Dragons tried to fight back with their power of Air and Fire, to fly and burn the crops of Humans. But it was a lost cause for there were too many Humans and too little safe places to live. The remaining Dragons fled across the oceans, never to be heard of again.

Hundreds of years pass, the humans, self proclaimed successor to the Forerunners, built seven mighty civilisations on seven parts of the world: Nialp, Aes, Letam, Rekam, Tsae, Emocni, Yrac

And so, after such a long time of shaky stability, things are about to change.


Chapter Links:
Prologue: here
Chapter 1: http://serenesforest.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=24562&view=findpost&p=1655454

Edited June 10, 2013 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Space reserved for characters, their current class, stats and growths for the heck of it.

Bleh idea...

Edited May 11, 2012 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 1

The sky was clear and the wind was cool. Gerald could hear the birds chirping as he walked down the road to get the special bread from Baker Malcam as instructed by his mother. Such breads were a must to celebrate the Great Harvest held just before winter annually, where the villagers would put together all their crops to store for the long winter months. The eight year old boy walked with strides full of purpose. A strong sense of pride filled him as he made the long trek to the baker's cottage.

After all he was doing a mission...like his father was, who his mother said was in a far off place. She also said he was a big boy now, and he could certainly run errands on his own. Thinking back on his father, the last he recalled was him ruffling his newly sprouting red hair five years ago. His father told him that as a law-abiding citizen, it was his duty to serve in the army in troubled times to keep Rekam safe from the Yracians. Leading some of the young archers from the village to the northen front, his father took his longbow and left the family. Gerald never saw any of them again.

Once he asked his mother when will his father be coming back, she looked at him with tears in her eyes and said, "He won't be back for a long time. Be patient for he is very far away, keeping us safe wherever he is." Since then, he never asked his mother that question. For now, his mother was enough. It was dificult for him to picture his father anymore as it had been such a long time, his only clue being he had inherited his father's red hair and brown gentle eyes.

The boys in the village would always practice their archery, but young Gerald would rather stay with his mother to learn herb lore and help out with the chores. The boys often brag about their skills in archery and the game they occasionally hunt alongside their fathers. Gerald would in turn talk about the herb lore taught by his mother, which would bore the others as they do not see the adventure in it. It was only after recounting how he and his mother would have to travel through the forests and up the mountain streams did he garner their interests. After that, the boys no longer thought of him as an outsider. But it was not enough for them to consider him a comrade as they deemed him not fit enough to be brought along for some of their hunts. At least he had proven himself useful in treating minor injuries and turning their game into decent meals when they returned successful.

As he passed by some of the boys returning from another hunting outing before the winter sets in, he waved to them. They in turn showed him the rabbits they held in each hand and grinned, no doubt expecting him to turn their catch into something wonderful as the adults had more important work to do. Rabbit hunting was popular and highly encouraged, it gave some of the farmers less things to worry about. Gerald sighed and and wondered what his life would it be like if he had taken up archery instead of herb lore. Gerald shook his head at such thoughts and reminded himself of how lonely his mother would have been if he did not spend those times with her.

He had expressed interest to learn baking from Malcam, with ideas to add some of the herbs that he learned was healthy into them. But so far Malcam would say he was too busy and did not have patience for an apprentice, especially one as young and inexperienced as him. That did not stop Gerald from asking every so often, in hopes that today would be the day Malcam agreed to take him in.

Hopefully, today will be different, he thought.

His thoughts could not have been more true...

Edited February 22, 2011 by Rothene

[Rothene]

New characters

Joukaha

Class: Berserker 10/1:

Stats: HP:41| Str:16| Ski:13| Spd:15| Def:12| Res:07| Luk:06| Con:13| Aid:12| Mov:0|6

Growth: HP:070| Str:035| Ski:040| Spd:050| Def:030| Res:020| Luk:020|

Laemin

Class: Warrior 10/4:

Stats: HP:46| Str:18| Ski:14| Spd:10| Def:10| Res:05| Luk:06| Con:13| Aid:12| Mov:06|

Growth: HP:075| Str:055| Ski:040| Spd:040| Def:020| Res:020| Luk:035|

Edited March 12, 2011 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 2

The escort is huge, thought Joukaha as he crouched in silence while watching the other berserkers get into position. They were far deeper into Rekam territory than Yracians would normally raid. But this was no ordinary raid, this was a mission. The escort was nearly as large as a raiding band. Sadly for the escorts, Joukaha had brought enough men to outnumber them four to one if he included the bandits from the Kaerhu tribe.

The shamans have spoken the need to retrieve a staff user from the lands of Rekam, a bishop as they were called in this green fertile part of the world. His band of warriors would need both the bishop and staff she held intact. He saw a few white robed followers of Laynia sitting on the huge wagon thet held them. It was a simple wagon pulled by two oxen. There was no cover on it to protect the occupants from rain...and arrows.

Joukaha cursed silently. This would complicate things.

The original plan was to have the warriors let loose a volley of arrows to eliminate as many threat as soon as possible, but the lack of protection on the wagon meant they could fatally harm their mission. Yracian archery was not known for its accuracy at picking out targets.

Joukaha beckoned to one of the mercenaries hired from other tribes to him. The man moved silently, hands never leaving his sword so as to not accidentally allow the sword to scrap the ground.

"Change of plans?" asked the mercenary before Joukaha could even speak. The man was smart and experienced, no doubt he had commited his fair share of kidnapping throughout his work. Kidnapping, Joukaha grimaced at the word as it was what his mission really was. He and his men were warriors, they lived for battle and their lands. Skulking around like some bandit in order to kidnap some woman ate at his honour every moment. But that same honour was the whole reason he was even doing such a mission.

"Tell Laemin not to have his warriors fire their arrows. We can't risk harming the bishop. Nay, we can't afford harming any of the white robed people. We will have to charge down the hills for this. Tell him to have half his men moved to the northen hill, to fire on any who escape north who isn't wearing the white robes. Have the other half charge as soon as they hear my call." ordered Joukaha. The mercenary noded swiftly and made his way silently to Laemin's postion. The wagon moved slowly as the southerners lack any sense of urgency, thinking themselves protected by their forts. But forts do not have legs, nor do they give chase.

While Joukaha's berserkers strike from the west, the mercenaries would enclose them from the south. Laemin could be relied on to press from the north. But the men from the Kaerhu tribe would present a problem. Joukaha was forced to allow them to strike from the east as he lacked the number of men to cover the large area of mountainous region. No other Yracians know how to move swiftly through such treacherous landscape than those bandits. They were everything the southerners hate about Yracians, cunning, merciless, greedy and brutal. Barbaric even by Yracian standards, no other Yracian tribe have raided the southern lands as often or commited as much attrocities as the Kaerhu. Even the mercenaries from the desperate Susil tribes could be trusted as the sellswords always honoured their contract. Kaerhu were bandits thorugh and through, but they were currently too large and powerful to be dealt with without great costs for the Yracians. For now, Joukaha had to accept them as untrustworthy allies at best.

If they fail to hold the eastern side on purpose, I'll have them cut down where they stand, swore Joukaha in his mind. The wagon was nearing Laemin's position and the escort army remained as slack as they were when they entered the area. Time for Joukaha to sound his call. He sucked in as much air as he could, and gave a long and loud shout as he rushed forward. The rest of his men followed suit.

***

Immediately, the lead rider snapped into attention and looked to the west. He saw the charging northeners coming down the slopes and shouted a battlecry of his own in response all the while readying his spear to fling at the lead berserker, a huge red maned man wielding the largest axe he had ever seen in his life.

The captain of the escort on his right immediately called all the escorts to surround the wagon, suspecting that attacks may come from more than one direction. He saw he was right when sellswords started hacking their way through his rear guard. The soldiers were barely holding the mercenaries at bay with their spear's reach.

When another wave of warriors arrived from the north, the captain's heart sank. Why is there so many raiders so far from the coastal regions, thought the captain.

***

Joukaha saw the alert rider raise his spear. He anticipated the spear flying at him and evaded appropriately when he got within the optimal range of the spear's ranged attack. He gripped his axe with his left hand as his right hand deftly snatched a handaxe from his hips and flung it at the raider. The attack struck the rider full in the chest as he fumbled to draw his sword. A cavalier rode up to meet him head on with his lance. Joukaha batted the lance out of his way with so much force that the lance shattered where he struck. He strained against his own strength as he tried to reverse his swing to severe the neck of the horse. He failed.

The horse knocked into Joukaha, sending him spiraling back to his men as they closed in for the kill. A normal man would have been crushed by that force, but in Yrac, only the strongest could survive and the average Yracian have much tougher bones than those of other lands. Joukaha was considered very powerful among Yracians.

By the time Joukaha got back on his feet, the foolhardy cavalier had already been hacked apart by the rest of his eager berserkers. He felt around his body. Nothing shattered yet, he mused as he flexed his bruised muscles, wincing at the pain. He could see the cavaliers dismounted and bravely holding their ground against his men with swords in hand. Though the Rekamite cavaliers were nowhere near as strong or as tough as the Yracian warriors, they wore armour and used their shields to create a wall of steel that slowed the Yracian assault. They made a small tight circle around the wagon, allowing as few area open to attack as possible, making Joukaha's numerical superiority less effective. Plus they were too close to the monks and priests to allow the use of arrows without harming the bishop. The surprise attack had been successful as there were few men left guarding the wagon.

Now it was a test of mettle and time. The Yracians would be able to keep up the assault long after the Rekamites grow too tired to hold up their shields, but could they end the fight before any patrol passes by and sends for reinforcements? Joukaha knew all too well that his men could never outrun horses.

Then a thought crossed Joukaha's mind, where are the Kaerhu bandits?

Edited July 2, 2011 by Rothkitty

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 3

Cynthia gripped the staff she was entrusted to safeguard tightly as the brave soldiers held their ground against the rampaging berserkers and warriors pressing for the kill them. She was a bishop in her late fifties and had seen her a great deal of suffering of the peasants at the hands of soldiers sent to cow the people by petty rulers. Being born a peasant, she had an innate dislike for the military men.

Watching them lay down their lives for their mission changed her view on them. It made her realise that soldiers were not cold hearted people but dedicated ones. They did as they were told because they had to. And now, they were dying in vain as they were losing and the raiders were numerous.

She saw few raider bodies on the ground, but half the soldiers and some cavaliers were already lying in a pool of blood. The only two knights in the escort was barely keeping the swarming mercenaries at bay with their spears. She sat with the other clerics and curates huddling together feeling powerless as people of the cloth were not trained to fight.

Then from the corner her eye, she spotted Godric whipping out the tome he carried with him. He signaled the other two monks with him and they did the same. Slowly, they stood up and the afternoon sun's rays reflected off their white robes in a blinding glare as if the sun was displeased by the cowardice of Cynthia and her flock.

The monks were not trained similarly to the curates. While the curates were taught compassion and care, the monks learned about zeal, justice and...retribution. They were taught to fight enemies of the Heirophants, to seize and subdue. An attack on the ones chosen by Laynia was an attack to the heirophants and the entire order in the eyes of this monks. Such an act required retribution delivered by the monks.

Cythia saw Godric raise one hand as the other clutched the tome he held. He closed his eyes and muttered the prayer to call upon the aid of the spirit within the Tome of Light in his arms. It glowed briefly and a ball of light came to be amidst the crowded raiders.

Then in a flash, it exploded.

***

Kaler watched from the top of the mountains on the eastern part of the area as the clash unfolded. He had picked the mountain side as an ambush location for several reasons.

The one he mentioned the that fool Joukaha was to allow him to hide his massive manpower more easily and that they were swift at scalling the sheer sides of the mountain. The reasons for such a choice that he did not mention were that it also allowed him to cross over and strike at a nearby village that was having its annual harvest.

There was much the Kaerhu tribe leader knew about the southern lands that others of Yrac did not and the leader gave Kaler the mission to secure more supplies. The success of failure of the mission was of no consequence to the Kaerhu tribe as they were the strongest of them all and no matter what gets thrown at them, they will tear it apart and piss on it.

If Joukaha realised the Kaerhu have abandoned the battle, it would be difficult for his men to climb the mountains where Kaler had the terrain advantage and circling the mountain would also be very time consuming. But for added insurance, Kaler had some of his men strike at some outlaying village to the north and made sure survivors get the chance to report of a raid going deeper into Rekam. The reinforcement from the keep should keep Joukaha very occupied.

As Kaler signaled his people to mobilise and head over the other side of the mountains, he spotted a white robed figure standing up from the wagon far below and the flashes of lights that followed.

The fortunes favour me, thought Kaler smilling.

***

Joukaha called for mercenary to come to him after directing some of his berserkers to shift the assault away from the desperate cavaliers who have started to use their horses as meatshields to attack the less well trained soldiers near the southern end.

As a mercenary came running to him, a flash of light caught his attention. A trio of berserkers were sent flying into the air like a flower being blown out of the ground by a strong wind from the ring of defenders.

Joukaha wasted no time to run for the berserker that landed nearest to him. As he ran, he could see other lights flashing and in each, a berserker or warrior was sent spiraling away from the defenders. He noted the white robed figures were standing and chanting while the tomes in their hands glowed.

Magic, cursed Joukaha under his breath. Magic had this way of getting past even the hardest armour and striking the flesh beneath. Joukaha had heard tales of the magic employed by this southerners. He expected them to be slow and deadly like a silent hunter similar to those used by the shamans that were easy to avoid, but the light magic of Laynia's followers were fast and accurate. A simple rain of arrows could end this problem but he could not risk harming any of the other white robes in the wagon.

The spell-strucked man was breathing heavily noted Joukaha as he reached him. He was Sapil, an unreliable fighter but wonderful drinking partner. There was no mark on him other than a huge welt on his stomach to indicate where he was struck. Joukaha gripped his hand and called to him.

Sapil opened his eyes slightly and moaned about great pains then pass out. Joukaha checked Sapil's pulse and noted that it was quickening then relaxing while his muscles tensed and untensed repeatedly.

The shamans had informed Joukaha that the light magic wielded by the followers of Laynia did not have the power to usually kill, but rather focus on inflicting great pains on the victim so that they would not be able to continue with their aggression as Laynia was against killing if she could subdue an opponent. Joukaha gave a silent thanks to Laynia for sparing his men and some forgiveness for having to fight hers.

A loud bellow was heard from the battle and Joukaha saw the cavaliers surging forward with their swords to take advantage of his disoriented army. His men were not prepared to face magic as they know they could not parry it nore could their thick skin save them. Even worse, they were forced into a tight outer circle around the defenders to keep up the offence, which made it hard if not impossible to avoid the spells casted by the monks. And the clerics have started using their staffs to heal the injured men. Now the defenders could outlast the raiders, the situation looked bleak for Joukaha and his men.

"Where are those damned bandits?" screamed Joukaha loudly to the mountains. He had arrived at the conclusion that the Kaerhu had abandoned them and his men were losing. He would make the bandits pay. Right now, he had to take a big risk since his muscles have finally recovered from the collision with the horses. If those clerics could heal, then a few arrows should not kill them. He was after a female bishop, those monks were all clearly male.

Joukaha seized the mercenary he called earlier by the arm and shouted "Tell Laemin to fire his arrows at those monks, now!". The mercenary nodded and ran swiftly to give Laemin the new orders. Joukaha had to end this battle fast and chase after Kaler and his band of oathbreakers to punish them for their betrayal of Yrac. He turned and rushed into the battle, leaping into the mass of cavaliers with his men as Laemin's men provided a shade to cover them.

Edited March 10, 2011 by Rothene

[Rothene]

More Characters

Cynthia

Class: Bishop 10/3:

Stats: HP:31| Mag:15| Ski:09| Spd:15| Def:08| Res:20| Luk:12| Con:05| Aid:04| Mov:06|

Growth: HP:065| Mag:030| Ski:020| Spd:040| Def:020| Res:055| Luk:025|

Note:

Henek

Class: Hero 10/1:

Stats: HP:43| Str:10| Ski:17| Spd:10| Def:13| Res:05| Luk:01| Con:11| Aid:10| Mov:06|

Growth: HP:75| Str:45| Ski:50| Spd:25| Def:45| Res:35| Luk:005|

Note:

Kaler

Class: Berserker 10/2: :

Stats: HP:48| Str:16| Ski:14| Spd:17| Def:11| Res:00| Luk:07| Con:14| Aid:13| Mov:06|

Growth: HP:070| Str:045| Ski:055| Spd:045| Def:030| Res:010| Luk:010|

Note:

Godric

Class: Monk 6:

Stats: HP:21| Mag:05| Ski:07| Spd:06| Def:04| Res:06| Luk:04| Con:05| Aid:04| Mov:05|

Growth: HP:065| Mag:040| Ski:045| Spd:040| Def:025| Res:035| Luk:010|

Note:

Daniel

Class: Paladin 10/4:

Stats: HP:39| Str:16| Ski:16| Spd:15| Def:13| Res:12| Luk:06| Con:11| Aid:10| Mov:08|

Growth: HP:060| Str:030| Ski:045| Spd:045| Def:030| Res:030| Luk:030|

Note:

Edited March 29, 2011 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 4

Gerald clenched his fists as he once again asked Malcam about a possible opening for apprenticeship. As the words left his mouth, he relaxed his grip, only to clench them again in anticipation of the answer.

Malcam paused for a moment then merely shook his head as he resumed placing the breads into his basket. And so ended the conversation for the day.

***

Malcam stole a glance at Geralds expression as soon as his message sinked in. He saw disappointment which was expected, but how was it that the boy could ask the samething at every opportunity, thought Malcam. The boy's ideas of adding exotic herbs had always frightened him.

He had been polite in listening patiently and turning down the offer repeatedly for the hundredth or so time, but Greald's constant requests have started to get on his nerves. One of these days, I might have to decline more forcefully, thought Malcam. After counting out fifteen small breads, he handed the basket back to Gerald and gently asked him to leave so that he could get back to baking more bread for others.

***

Kaler watched the villagers as they piled all their harvest in the centre of the village with great anticipation. The village was ripe for the taking, but Kaler was hungry and food from Yrac were never as flavourful as the cooking of the Rekamites. It would be wise to keep his men loyal to him by rewarding them with the occasional bonus of good food.

That would mean having to wait till sunset, a few hours away. If Joukaha managed to pull through the ambush and evade the patrols that Kaler alerted, he would need those hours to navigate around the mountain. By the time he arrived, Kaler's men would have been rested and ready to meet them head on, while Joukaha's group would be exhausted. It also helped that Kaler's men outnumbered Joukaha's band three to two, and that Kaler was no small weak man himself.

A smart leader would let Kaler get away with this selfish act, but Kaler knew of Joukaha's reputation for his battle prowess and most importantly pride. Crushing Joukaha here would further embarrass and weaken the Vahvih Tribe. With any luck, he would also get rid of those filthy Susil half-breeds, mused Kaler.

A bandit walked up to Kaler and cocked his head to the village. Kaler replied by throwing a stone at him. The bandit understood that as a definite no. The men are eager, smiled Kaler as the thought crossed his mind. It was a good sign.

***

The push against the Rekamites was successful, the three monks lying in their pool of blood was testament to the triumph of Joukaha's men over the magic wielded by the people of Rekam. As soon as the cavaliers were slaughtered, the soldiers broke rank and fled. The two knights who were too weighed down by their armour to escape stood defiantly as they were cut down. The soldiers who broke ranks were not so lucky as Laemin's archers were ready for them. Not a single soldier escaped.

Joukaha strode purposefully to the clerics huddled together. They were two women and a man.

"Which of you bears the Staff of Hammerne?" Asked Joukaha. As long as they did nothing stupid, he had every intention of letting them live, they were not trained soldiers who could run for aid anytime soon.

The eldest of the trio stood up and clenched onto her staff tightly and declared boldly, "I bear it."

Joukaha looked at her, showing the most intimidating look he could muster. She trembled at his gaze, but stood still, her face showing some signs of determination. No doubt she wants to barter for the lives of the other two, guessed Joukaha.

"I know what you are prepared to say. Come with us and we shall spare these two." Said Joukaha. His remark caught Cynthia off guard as she was a bout to speak. She did not know if she could trust the barbarian but she knew that either way, they would have the staff. If handing over the staff would spare the lives of two faithfuls, the staff for all its potential had worked its own miracle to her. And so she walked forward offering the staff.

"No, you and the staff comes with us." Said Joukaha. Cynthia looked at him, then at her companions. She sighed and walked forward. She counted on James and Onia to remain still, in order to safeguard their lives. She was in luck, the two were too afraid to take action.

"I am here, so will you swear in the name of Laynia that no harm shall befall those two?" asked Cynthia. Joukaha laughed loud upon hearing this and sneered at her.

"I am not a follower of your faith women. But I shall swear on my pride that my men shall not harm those two. Is that good enough?" asked Joukaha. He did not have much time to wait for a reply as he had a bandit to chase.

Before he could decide on whether to wait for her reply or just grab her, he spotted the figure of the mercenary captain bounding to him. The name of the man escaped him as it usually did. Joukaha waited and watched with dread as he saw the expression of the man running to him.

***

Henek stood still as he heard the grim report from the mercenary nearby about how he had lost twelve men in the charge against the rear guard. The Letam armour had proven hard to get past with simple iron swords. Now another mercenary told him of a patrol of paladins coming down from the fortress they sneaked past.

Somehow word had reached them but he was not paid to ponder on how it happened. All he cared about was that it has already happened and he needed to inform his contractor of it. Personally so that Joukaha will rememeber his name at least.

And thus he turned and ran to Joukaha as fast as he could to deliver the bad news.

***

Daniel donned his black armour ceremonially as the rest of the cavalry prepared to set out to catch hold of the invaders. Time was not of the essence, the horses could easily catch up to the Yracians spotted deep within this part of Rekam, and the invaders still needed to past through this area to head back to Yrac. There was no need to rush.

He brushed aside his thick lock of blonde hair to reveal a scar trailing down from his scalp to barely an inch away from his left eye. Some had called it a battle scar, but those who knew how it came to be would jeer at him whenever they saw it.

Daniel made sure they were never heard of again. Hence only he knew how he had obtained the scar, but knowing the truth meant he could never wear it with pride. He always wore a mask of silver or black to hide it. Silver for the court and black for battle. The mask served as a cover to hide the scar, a tool for intimidation and as extra protection, for whatever pitiful attacks it could ever block.

Now, ready with his spear, he and his band rode off to slaughter.

Edited June 11, 2013 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 5

Laemin strode slowly towards Joukaha as his men returned to the eager crowds of their collegues. For them, the battle is over. But for Laemin, he knew Joukaha well, too well. He expects Joukaha to issue the order to hunt down the Kaerhu bandits for their abandonment of the fight.

The mercenary leader Henek apparently bore ill news as Laemin observed Joukaha's expression becoming grimmer with every word that escaped Henek's mouth. The sight made him walk even slower. Joukaha was well known not for how fast and powerful his tempers could flare, but rather how fickle it occurs. There were jokes about how he might at one moment accept defeat with a smile on his face and wishing of goodwill, then other times he would simply punch the challenger in the face and wreck a few objects.

Hopefully he does not punch Henek. Laemin was very good with a bow, but he would not be able to use the advantage of range supremacy over Kaerhu bandits for long. Firing from atop mountains was not too much of an advantage as Kaerhu men were skilled climbers, he would need the large number of mercenaries Henek comanded to hold Kaler's men at bay if they were to fight. Losing the support of the mercenaries would be very bad.

***

Henek wasted no time in mentioning about the paladins spotted by his men. The higher ground of the ambush point allowed them to observe the fortress, being half Rekam, Henek knew all too well the grand capabilities of paladins at chasing their foes.

"What?!" exclaimed Joukaha after listening to the news Henek brought him. Henek could see the big man grip his axe more tightly.

"One of my man that I left behind spotted activity in the fortress we passed by. No doubt sending reinforcements quickly." said Henek calmly. The staff meant nothing to him, if things turned really bad, he could always have his men flee. Only, they would be despised again.

The Susil tribe was founded by the Rekamite slaves who escaped the other Yracian tribes and formed their own community to defend themselves. After years of hounding the Susil and killing them, the Yracians ddecided to let them live as a tribe in respect of their tenacity and how they had become more 'Yracian' for surviving the cold northern wastelands. They also wanted the Susil tribe to test their defences often by capturing more Rekamites to free at one point. Now only the Kaerhu tribe and Hauki tribe practice slavery, and still uphold the ancestral sport of pitting their men against Susil tribesmen who try to free their fellow Rekamite brothers.

Some Yracians were known to go and settle down among the Susil tribe, either because of lust for adventure, to learn the ways of the sword or are outcasts who have no home to go. Hence most Susil tribesmen have Rekam blood in them. Henek's red hair was a distinct reminder of his Rekamite ancestry.

Henek raised his hand in an unconcious attempt to cover his hair, a habit he had acquired growing up among the Hauki who would discriminate him and his father for their hair colour. His mother had left the family in shame for being raped by Henek's father, a slave soldier to a powerful warrior. It was small wonder to Henek that his father was not killed for what he did, but the Hauki tribesmen had apparently respected his boldness. His great skill with the bow was also a reason no one truly bothered him. But one fateful day, while teaching other Yracians the skill of archery, the Susil came raiding or rescuing, depending on who's perspective it was. In the chaos, Henek's father abandoned him to try to escape by sea, but was caught in a coming storm. It was assumed the sea had claimed him. Henek was taken to the Susil to learn the ways of the sword that most Susil tribesmen were famous throughout Yrac for. Powerful hands gripped him and shook him vigorously, rousing him up from his visions of his past.

"Henek, are you with me? I say we move out now!" yelled Joukaha at him. Henek could only nod and whistled for all his men to come to him. He heard Joukaha say,"I want your mercenaries protecting...err...Cynthia, the bishop. It would not do well for us to lose her and the staff in the coming battle."

"Coming battle? We're engaging the paladins? That's suicide!" complained Henek. He knew full well that the mercenaries were not prepared to face some of Rekams finest soldiers. The standard military was already enough of a challenge for his men. Experienced elite soldiers who are armed with the best weapons, possibly mithril, were too much for even Henek to handle.

"Not them you fool! Have you not heard what I have been saying? We are going around the mountain to attack those Kaerhu bandits and make them pay." said Joukaha. He wasted no time signalling for Laemin to come closer.

"We're going around the mountain? Wouldn't the Kaerhu have finished their raid by now?" asked Henek. Joukaha's plan did not make much sense to him. Their band was tired, and the Kaerhu had a lot of menpower that was unspent.

"Well, based on what you said, we cannot go back the way we came as the fortress would likely attempt to block off the northen road in order to trap us. Besides, I don't want to face the paladins yet. My men are not ready. If we went around the back of the mountain first by going south, then turning up east, we can still put some distance between us and catch up to the Kaerhu. And about their raid, it would be tiring to scale the mountains. The bandits would be too tired to fight immediately," reasoned Joukaha. He was getting impatient. Every moment he spend explaining to the mercenary leader, was another moment closer the paladins were and another moment the Kaerhu had to escape.

As Joukaha turned around to issue orders to Laemin personally, Henek continue pondering on Joukaha's plan. What he said felt...wrong to the mercenary leader and his insticts told him that the plan was flawed, very badly flawed.

***

Laemin did not like the look on Joukaha's face as he received his orders. After receiving his orders, he realised he prefered the look than the commands given.

"You want me to stay behind with some of my archers? To fire upon the paladins?" asked Laemin.

"Yes, those horses would catch up to us if we do not do this. I have requested Henek to leave some of his men behind as well so that they can give the illusion that the rest of us are fighting them there. And we shall have those white robes tied up there. If the paladins are as noble as the rumours say they are, they would be forced to dismount to rescue them. The mountain is too steep for horses. If you can, kill their horses. All this should buy us a lot of time," said Joukaha grimly. Using hostages was a clear sign how desperate his situation was.

Before Laemin could speak, Joukaha added,"And remember to leave as soon as the paladins leave as well. In case of anything, some of us will have to return to Yrac," handing Laemin the staff.

"Why the staff? What use do I have for it?" asked Laemin. He stared at the slim ornately decorated thing in puzzlement.

"We have been taught not to place all the eggs in one basket. You will be heading back earlier than me because that is what you are suppose to. The staff is as important as the user. You must bring the staff back no matter what it takes. So promise me you return back, even if it means abandoning the rest of us." said Joukaha. And then in a lower tone, he asked,"Your seafaring skills are still good I hope?"

Upon hearing what Joukaha asked, Laemin smiled. Joukaha wanted him to come along not only because of his archery, but also for his rare skill in seamanship. Laemin said,"Yes, I how can I give up on a skill that none of you ever learned? It makes me better right?" Laemin remembered too well how some of his fellow tribesmen had ridiculed him for learning seafaring from his Hauki mother. That was until they went on their first raid with Susil mercenaries along Hauki coastlines when they were much younger.

***

After being forced to heal Joukaha's men, Cynthia was bound and gagged as the men discussed how they would inflict harm onto her people. In her pathetic position, all she could do was pray for paladins to not die. She was thought compassion, and thus could not bear to pray for retribution on the Yracians, especially when their leader showed mercy for her clerics.

After the short bantering between them, she saw some of the sword users procceed to carry her two clerics up the mountain alongside the archers. She also saw the leader hand over the Hammerne Staff to another older man.

She heard the man she identified as the leader of the sword using mercenaries ask for her forgiveness. Before she could respond, she felt a strong blow to the top of her head and her vision blackened...

***

Kaler looked at the sky. For no other reason than there being nothing better to do. The sign he was looking for to commence the raid was in the air. Literally.

He inhaled deeply, smelling the air for the obvious hint of meat well cooked. There it was, thought Kaler. Raising his axe high up as he stood, he saw the other men stiring as well. They were eager as they knew they would have a good feast after the assault.

"We strike now." whispered Kaler to a nearby bandit. The man grunted quickly then proceeded to pass the word to the other fast runners. It was not really neccesary as standing up was all Kaler needed to rouse the men. But he liked to act as a proper formal leader that the southerners enjoy being. Soft weak men of words but little action these southerners are, thought Kaler.

Although he was looking at the village, his true target was beyond it. He had sent nearly half his band to the other side of the village, where they would trap any who sought refuge in the woods. With any luck, they would finish off the village and grab their supplies, with enough time to turn north and raid the wagon as it transports the staff back to 'safe' hands.

In case Joukaha won and decided not to take vengeance immediately, the chief of the Kaerhu tribe had already promissed them half the share of the food and materials pillaged. Their loyalty to Kaerhu was almost as much, if not more than the Hauki tribe. Then again, men of the Hauki tribe were pirates, who understood the joy of the plunder. Kaler had found it funny to observe Joukaha striking deals that were meant to be broken with the Hauki. Sadly for Joukaha, the Hauki were the only ones in Yrac skilled in seafaring as their territory stretched across most of the coast.

Hefting his axe, Kaler walked towards the village slowly. He could not wait to see the faces of the villagers as his band ran screaming in, slaughtering all who were in there.

***

Daniel spurred his horse to move faster. He would not settle for any position less than the front. Let the rest of the platoon cower at the back of him, he thought, I would show them what it means to be a real paladin.

Paladins not only had the power of military might, but also their faith and blessings from the Heirophants. If a simple peasant would not move out of their way, they had the right to run over them. After all, all they do, they do in the name of Laynia the Great Seeress.

As much as the paladins were feared in all of Rekam, Emocni and probably Letam for their battle prowess, so was their horse. A fact few paladins admit openly, but all swear by gravely in their confessions. A paladin is only half the soldier he or she is without the warhorse.

Their horses were bought from the Nialpian plains when at cutthroat prices, then specially breed in open environments that simulate the grassy plains in order to allow the horse to keep its ancestor's traits. Then they started interbreeding the small long legged Nialpian horses with the sturdier Rekam stock who were capable of climbing the mountains better.

But when the two creatures interbreed, not all inherit the best traits of both. Those were usually sold off to low ranking nobility of rich merchants. The best of the lot, the ones that inherited both strengths were given to the paladins. It also helped that the horses were properly trained warhorses, not afraid of charging at spears or the shouts and gore or battle, and were infamous for kicking and stomping their foes. Hence armies fear the horses as much as they fear the battle prowess of the elite paladins.

While thinking about the supremacy of paladins, Daniel was reminded once again about the dangers of being overconfident, distracted and most importantly...leading the charge, when an arrow struck him full on the armour breastplate.

Daniel took a full second to register that the powerful armour had prevented the arrow from even piercing his skin. The another three seconds to look at the mountain side from where the arrow originated and screamed,"AMBUSH!!!"

Immediately, the rest of the platoon scattered. The best way to survive an archer attack was to make it harder for the shots that miss hit another nearby ally. Manwell, one of the paladins raised his spear and waved it in the air as he charged the mountains, clearly intent on attacking said enemies of the Heirophants shouting,"In Laynia's Vision!"

The other paladins were emboldened by his example and followed his charge. Daniel instead reached to his sides and gripped onto his most prized weapon. He scanned the mountains to note where his foes were. That was when he spotted the white robes held by some of the Yracians. Useless priests, he thought.

He caught sight of one ambusher aiming a large bow at him. Daniel's hands gripped his sword very tightly as his leg muscles bunched tensed themselves. He had to make sure the horse leaped at the right moment for he suspected that the arrow was aimed at his helmet, one of the thinner layer of his armour...

***

Damn Rekam armours, cursed Laemin as he saw his well aimed arrow bounce off the paladin's chest plate. Next time aim for the face, he reminded himself.

When the paladins scattered, Laemin knew that it would become harder for his archers to hit them. The warrior signaled for Henek's men to purposely move out of cover and reveal their hostages. Hopefully it would spur the paladins to do something foolish, like bunch together and charge up the steep mountain.

He then saw a brazen paladin raising his spear, rallying the man for a daring charge. Laemin paid them no mind as the mountain will undoubtly slow or even halt their movements. The black armoured paladin he had shot earlier was more interesting. That man's armour not only stood out, but his cautious action of observing the mountain gave Laemin the impression that he was a leader of sorts. A skilled hunter knows that one must always aim for the head, then the rest of the body will fall.

Laemin drew back his arrow as far as his arms could. One shot, thought Laemin, one shot one kill. The black paladin suddenly shifted his attention to Laemin and tensed. He knew what was coming and was prepared. It all boiled down to who timed it better, the hit or the dodge...

Edited April 18, 2011 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 6

Gerald watched as the villagers sat down laughing jovially. He sat next to his mother as he always did every year. He watched as the other village boys sat together away from the adults comparing with each other who had grown the most or show off some wonderful objects they picked up while on their hunts. Gerald would have joined them every year, had his mother not insist he always stay by her side.

Some strange feeling just compels him to never leave his mother's side, and that strange feeling kept telling him about how today was different from the other festivals. He looked at his mother and noticed how she was frowning at the fire. It was nothing noteworthy but he had nothing better to do than to ask her why was she not among the other women today helping out with the cooking. Every year, she would join them eagerly despite having to harvest to bring in. This year, she just sat with Gerald, never speaking with him.

"Huh? Oh 'why' you ask?" said Gerald's mother as he shook her hand for added measure when she did not respond to his question. She smiled at him warily and said,"I don't feel well today, I better not attempt to cook in case I make some terrible mistakes."

His mother's reply made him worried and Gerald could not help but start asking the usual questions,"Are you sure you're fine out here? Should we go back home and let you rest? Have you taken any of the herbs?" She was his only family, and he would do anything to make sure she was alright.

"Yes I have, don't fret so much. I feel much better just by having you by my side," she said. Then she looked to the west of the village, then to the east and said,"Gerald, come with me now."

Gerald was confounded by his mother's odd behavior but obeyed her words as he always did. Together, they walked to the village well.

***

Laemin let lose the arrow as Daniel lowered his head. Laemin could not help but chuckle at the sight of the foolish paladin ducking his head. It was unexpected.

Laemin had fired his arrow at the head of the horse Daniel rode on. The magnificent creature neighed loudly as it fell on its side dead as Daniel barely leaped off it. Laemin readied another shot for the horses of the other paladins. Afterall, their horses are half their combat prowess, thought Laemin as his archers started firing at the horses.

The paladins were brave soldiers, but when it came to the prospect of losing their horses, they started faltering. The horses were hard to replace, mainly due to priority given to the more favoured ones or those with enough fundings. Thankfully for Daniel, he was both well funded and favoured by heirophants. This would be the third horse he lost so far.

Raising his buckler, he braved the arrows alongside Manwell and Walter as they charged on foot, namely because the three of them had been rendered horseless. One of the paladins shouted for the other paladins to let him secure their horses behind the trees as the other paladins scrambled to dismount. The horses they rode were unfit to climb mountains, coming from the lesser stock of the prized breeds paladins used.

Laemin ordered his archers to move up the mountain in small divisions. These paladins were proving hard to kill. While pondering on where to go, a spear shot past him and embedded itself into the back of one of the fleeing archers. Laemin swore inwardly as he took aim at the black armoured paladin who killed one of his men. He fired a shot but Daniel deftly deflected it with his buckler. Laemin hurriedly signalled for the mercenaries who stayed back to rush out and attack the paladins. The archers need the room to safely pelt the paladins with arrows.

Despite the higher ground, the mercenaries were no match to the longer reach of the spears. The paladins forced the mercenaries back and impaled those who stood their ground. The concentrated shots from the archers managed to make two paladins fall off the mountainside, but the rest kept climbing. Laemin did not like the odds. Then something he did not account for happened.

Daniel unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the row of archers while shouting out, "Redemption!" At this, a spark of light travelled up from the hilt of the sword to the tip erupting there to reveal a small figure of an eagle made entirely of light. The small eagle flew and struck the archers with unnerving accuracy. A panicking archer managed to fire a shot at the phantasm, but the arrow merely passed through it as if it was only an illusion. But where the eagle of light struck a bright flash of light erupted and created a blunt force that flung the archers off the mountainside, into the waiting spears of the paladins.

The deed done, Daniel gently stroke the Lightbrand with one hand as he saw the swordsmen backing away from the paladins in fear. Daniel kept an eye out for the archers and cover. Now that he had showed his power, no doubt he would be a priority to kill. Then an arrow struck him in the sides, this time it went through the armour and got stuck at his ribs. The sudden pain made him lose his balance and the weight of armour caused him to fall off the mountain side. The armour protected him from breaking his bones, but the shock from each impact along the mountainside caused his vision to swim, then he blacked out when he struck the ground...

***

Laemin managed to get a good shot at the black paladin as he appeared to revel in his own splendour. The distraction was more than enough for Laemin to get a clear shot at him, and at that range, the arrow managed to go through the armour.

Despite the small victory of taking out the key target, the paladins did not stop their climb. The lone paladin guarding the horses ran forward and collected all three fallen paladins and placed them on the horses. He then proceeded to bring them to the safety of the trees.

The situation looked even worse as the paladins expertly herded the mercenaries with their spears while circling towards the remaining archers. Daniel's Lightbrand had dealt a crippling blow to Laemin's archers.

Seeing the battle as a lost cause, Laemin sounded the retreating call and have the mercenaries let the cleric and curate fall towards the paladins. As expected, half the paladins stopped fighting and reached for the white robed figures. While some of the paladins were distracted, Laemin's men seized the opportunity to scatter in all directions. Laemin among them.

The first five paladins to respond to the retreat scrambled down the mountain side to get to their horses in order to give chase around the mountain in order to trap the fleeing men. Two safely brought the cleric and curate to the ground.

The remaining nine on the mountain continued harrasing the fleeing archers and mercenary up the mountain. After a while, they gave up as they could not climb as fast as the Yracians on foot. In all the confusion, Laemin did as he was ordered to...disappear with the staff.

***

Kaler was irritated. Some other bandit had managed to score the firstblood. As he had sneaked close enough to strike the village watchman, a handaxe struck the man's face, embedding so deep that the man probably died without noticing he was killed. More importantly, for the Kaerhu, the watchman died without a word.

The rest of the bandits moved around houses and watched the villagers being merry. It disturbed some of the newcomers to attack people on their festive period, but the veteran raiders were baptised in the blood of villagers on their first and subsequent raids into Rekam and occasionally Letam, and thus had no qualms about hacking defenseless villagers to bits.

At Kaler's battlecry, the bandits leaped onto the unsuspecting villagers and started setting houses on fire.

***

Upon hearing Kaler's battlecry, Gerald's mother pushed Gerald into the well before he could even register what was happening. Frantically, he grabbed onto the rope that held the bucket and called out for help. It was then he saw the night sky turning bright red.

The strange feeling that told him of how special today was suddenly magnified and sent a strong sense of paralyzing fear into Gerald. He saw in his minds eye, a wolf biting his entire head, preventing any sound from escaping him. And so he remained where he was, quietly staring into the red sky and listening to the screams of people.

***

Malcalm was among the first few to notice the bandits rushing out of the shadows. He quickly picked up the bow and quiver of arrows that were lying around the centre of the town. He did not know whos set were these, but desperate times called for desperate measure. He did not hesitate to fire the arrow at the closest bandit.

To his surprise, the bandit did not slow his charge even with an arrow sticking out of his shoulders. Malcalm cursed at the bandit's high pain tolerance and his lack of practice. A few arrows fired from near him, bringing the berserking bandit down.

The rest of the villagers have taken up arms to defend themselves. Some had seized their pitchforks and hoes that rested on the festive area. The men were prepared. All those from the village were conscripted to serve in the army to defend the borders anually. All of them had seen their fair share of Yracian attacks. But those were in well defended fortresses armed with shield, sword and longbows amongst trained soldiers. But unfortunately, some of the young men from the village was away at the northern borders serving their conscription.

Fighting with only clothes, pitchforks, cleavers and hunting bows among crying children and frantic mothers in search of their young was another matter entirely. The best the villagers could do was overturn the tables and make a make shift barricade where they can. Unfortunately, the close proximity of the bandits and the fact they were already locked in combat prevented any successful barricade from even being put up.

Slowly the villagers inched their way to the townhall, constantly protecting the young and elderly who managed to hide among them. If anything, it was the biggest and safest structure they had. Some villagers who ran off at the initial assault that were not cut down hid in their homes. Some of the elderly who could not keep up with the villagers were abandoned to be cut up by the bloodthirsty bandits. Some children were left alone by the bandits long enough for desperate mothers and fathers to break off from the tight village circle for them, only to be hacked together with their child by the wicked axes of the cruel bandits.

In the chaos, Gerald's mother calmly strode towards Kaler.

***

The organised resistance of the villagers was something he did not expect. Rekamites further into Rekam were supposed to be softer and panicked easily. But it did not matter to Kaler. The bandits were better armed and well prepared to slaughter the villagers.

Only when the villagers managed to hold out long enough to escape into the large townhall did Kaler get worried. The townhall was built to be bigger and sturdier than all the other houses. It would not catch fire easily and his men would have to enter in very small numbers at any one time. The archers could easily fire at his men from the windows and higher floors.

If the raid took too long, they would get caught by the Rekam army. Normally, the usual response was to take all the food and leave the village. But he also had special orders to ensure that there were no survivors, apart form the target. The spirits had told the Kaerhu shaman of such importance. It was for the future of the Kaerhu the spirit had warned the shaman. For Kaler, it was for his son. So long as the Kaerhu remained strong, his son will grow up well. For him, there is nothing Kaler would not do. Anything but giving up raiding that is.

The opportunity to taste the well spiced food of the Rekamites, the strange objects found as well as the lushness of their world. Only the men of the Kaerhu truly appreciated raiding again and again to see and feel it. It was unfair that their ancestors had to settle for the harsh barren land of Yrac. The other tribes may be content with how things are, but the Kaerhu will keep raiding and learning about the southern lands. Then one day, when they obtain enough steel weapons and some mithril ones, the Kaerhu will come down screaming with the wind and consume all of Rekam.

Kaler nodded his approval to the men who waved their torches in anticipation of burning down the houses where people hid in. The the villagers trapped in their homes wailed in despair as they realised that their only options were to be burned alive or face the axe of the Kaerhu men. Most surprisingly chose to burn alive in defiance, denying the vicious raiders the satisfaction of cutting them down. Some even burst out of the burning houses covered in flames. Kaler looked at them fall and slowly have their corpses turn to ashes dispationately. He had seen such sights many times before when he had join raids against other Yracian tribes. But somewhere deep inside, he still felt pity for those who never died a brave warrior's death.

The men had started tossing burning pieces of wood into the townhall in order to smoke out the villager in there. Some had started putting down their weapons in order to enjoy the meals that were already cooked.

While he surveyed the entire situation, a woman approached him. Somehow, the rest of the Kaerhu seemed to ignore her existence, Kaler was sure that his keen eyes he never saw her until now. She must be the real bishop Joukaha was tasked with finding, realised Kaler.

Old Vaenoma who was born of the Vahvih tribe that Joukaha and Laemin hailed from was no where near as powerful as Lonel who guided the Kaerhu tribe. Hence the Kaerhu tend to know more than the other tribes despite Vaenoma being the current leader of the Vares, the shaman tribe.

The shamans had this strange system of choosing a new leader from amongst the leading shamans, druids of each tribe. And through that weak system, Vaenoma was picked not because of power, but merely for being well loved.

The old fool had given vague orders to Joukaha, and that big axe swinging fool had assumed the one wielding the target staff was also the one they need. Lonel had done a great job deciphering the cryptic commands of the spirits and gave the correct information to Kaler's master. The spirits requested that the staff and the bishop be brought back to Yrac.

"Are you Miranda?" asked Kaler. The ammount of detail Lonel had been able to provide the Kaerhu was staggering. Gerald's mother looked at him in a resigned manner and nodded. Kaler smiled and grabbed her arm as he called to one of the Kaerhu he trusted most. The man stood up quickly and wiped the mead from his mouth as he rushed over.

"Take her back to Yrac now. Adre has a special ship prepared. Joukaha may have the staff, but we have the bishop. Take fifteen men with you. You must make sure she gets delivered." commanded Kaler. Lonel had done her part perfectly, which made Kaler fear the druid even more. To be able to send spirits across the sea and fill the subject with despair to break their spirits, Kaler intend to never get on her bad side.

With that part of his task secure, he set ten men to start filling sacks with the village harvest while the rest sweeped the village of all its inhabitants. Thristy, Kaler decided to take some mead. But a strange thought filled him with the desire for water, and so he started walking towards the well.

***

It had been many years since Miranda left the monastery to live a normal alongside her husband, the fiery-haired Benjamin whom the monks and clerics found along the northern shores of Rekam. He had suffered amnesia, and thus had no recollection of his past. He only remembered his skills with a bow and that his name. His name was only recalled through the efforts of some of the most powerful bishops at the monastery. It was assumed he was a slave from Yrac who escaped.

Tasked with caring for the man, Miranda developed a strange fascination in him and was cursed with sadness whenever he was never near her. When he was strong enough to leave the monastery, Miranda forsook her rights and gifts as a follower of Laynia by breaking her vows in order to be with him.

Despite no longer practicing her craft, the spirits still occasionally visit her, and lately Gerald. Then dark ones came, summoned by someone well versed in the ancient magic to haunt her. Being the village freak, others thought those hauntings off as her bouts of madness. Hence she could not warn any of them of the impending doom and decided to resign to her fate. At least after ensuring Gerald's survival. He, like her was born with the potential for magic, thus his own connections to the spirit would protect him.

Seeing Kaler going towards the well, her fears were affirmed as she saw through her mind's eye, the dark spirits guiding Kaler to discover Gerald in order to ensure that no survivors remained from this raid. As a desperate act to divert Kaler's attention from the well, Miranda removed some parchment from her pocket. Parchments she had taken from the monastery all those years ago, preparing them for one simple spell she had learned when she was younger.

Calling upon the spirits of Redemption, Miranda raised the parchments into the air and focused her will into summoning the spirit. The parchment burned as a sign of the spirit accepting her gift for its service. A bull spectre formed above her and circled around her at dizzing speed, knocking away her captors and then sped towards Kaler and smashed into his back. It lacked enough power to kill, as all light magic were force based, thus none of those she struck had died. But their dazed state gave her all the time needed to run as fast as she could.

Kaler recovered faster than the other men, and spotted the running figure of Miranda. Growling angrily, he ran at her, grabbing a burning torch from the ground that one of the men had dropped. Whiping his arm with a swift motion like a lightning bolt, he flung the torch at Miranda's back. It struck so hard, it shattered. Bits of embers set her clothes on fire.

Panicking, Kaler rushed to her and ripped the burnt pieces of clothes off. He had to make sure she was delivered alive. Satisfied that despite the burns and the large bruise he dealt to her back, Miranda would survive the trip back, where the shamans would be able to heal her one way or another, Kaler had his men bring her back to Yrac. This time, they rememebered to bind her hands and legs. Despite the southerner's perception of Yracian raiders to rape women while raiding, they were far from the truth. Yracians never wasted precious raid time on such uneccesary acts. Yracians were too pragmatic for that.

He then proceeded to the well when suddenly the villagers who remainded at the townhall made one last desperate charge out of the townhall as the building had finally went up in flames inside. At the prospect of a good fight, as cornered people fight better, Kaler swung out his axe and proceeded to charge into the fray.

***

Henek and Joukaha watched in horror at the burning village and listen to the anguish cries of helpless Rekamites that reached their tired band. They had been trekking around the mountain after a tough battle. Despite the rage each Yracian felt at such vile deeds done by others of their own blood, none could master the strength to charge to save the village.

Filled with despair and shame, all they could do was make a slow march to the village and avenge the victims of the raid. The sight of the children deperately gasping for air outside the huge flaming building at the centre of the village caused some of the younger fighters and mercenaries to drop to their knees and stare helplessly, knowing there was nothing they could do to save them.

The sight fortified Joukaha's resolve to bring the Kaerhu to justice. He also noted that the less squimish of Henek's Susil mercenaries pick up their pace. There were Rekamite blood in most of them, hence such a sight filled them with more rage than the Vahvih fighters.

Painstakingly, the band managed to reach the burning village.

***

Cold calming energy filled Daniel as he felt his fractured ribs mending. The jolting sensation caused Daniel to awaken. It was starting to get dark when he had been ambushed. Now it was dark as night. He made a sweeping check of the people nearby and noted that none of the paladins had died.

"Praise Laynia's Mercy, you live as well," remarked Manwell as he approached Daniel. His expression was grim despite their victory, or was it defeat? Daniel could not recall what happened after he fell off the mountain side.

"What is it Manwell, spit it out," grumbled Daniel irritably.

"We succeeded in driving away the enemy. But as it got too dark to search for the stragglers, we gave up on the search. We also successfully rescued the two captives," said Manwell gesturing at the cleric and curate then continued,"as well as retrieve their staffs that enabled them to heal all of us. Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately what?" snapped Daniel. He stood up and glared at Manwell at eye level.

"Unfortunately, these two claim that this small group we fought was mere a sizable part of a larger force. They were used to distract us, while the main force moved on. It seems that this was only a third of their force." said Manwell. He looked at Daniel expectantly.

Daniel was furious at how his paladins had successfully been slowed down by a group of simple barbarians. Even worse, the raiding band he was sent to chase had successfully evaded him and now it was too dark and late for them to treck down the invaders.

While he was pondering on how to deal with the situation, Manwell cleared his throat and said,"Laynia has not forsaken us."

"How so?" asked Daniel warily.

Manwell said pointing beyond the mountain,"She has showed us where the prey has gone."

Daniel gazed at the large columns of smoke rising from the other side of the mountain where the sky seemed to be painted red, as if it were lit on fire.

Edited March 2, 2012 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 7

Gerald felt his strength seeping away as the coldness of the water sucked the heat from his body. The prospect of drowning if he did nothing sent such fear into his heart that the spectral wolf around his head seemed to shatter as well as gave him one final surge of energy to do something about his dire circumstance. He used every last bit of that energy to raise himself above the well bucket and tie the stretch of rope around his waist.

Thankfully the well was rather narrow, enabling him to rest on the well walls in an upright manner. All he could do after all was done, was hope someone would rescue him before the chilly grip of death reached him.

***

While Kaler pondered about what to do with the half a dozen newly orphaned children his softer men were not hardened enough to kill, he heard loud bold screams of some of his men behind him.

Turning around swiftly in anticipation of newly arrived threat, Kaler was not disappointed to see Joukaha's men and mercenaries brutally attacking his own men. But how did they elude the paladins, wondered Kaler as he reached for his personal weapon with his right hand.

It does not matter, thought Kaler grinning at the prospect of a proper fight, what great fortune to be able to pit my might against him.

***

Joukaha let Henek's mercenaries strike first. The Susil had deep respect for their Rekamite ancestory almost as much as their Yracian ones. It was only right to allow them the priviledge of drawing firstblood. Fighting soldiers who nobly gave their lives for their country was fine with the Susil mercenaries, even if those soldiers were of their blood. The needless slaughter of innocent civilians did not sit well with them, especially if those villagers were of the same blood.

Henek swung his prized sword with great ferocity, nearly cleaving a bandit in two on his right, maiming another to his left. The sword was taken by Henek from the previous leader of his mercenary band when a Hauki pirate managed to bury an axe behind the leader's back. No ordinary foe was able to best the former mercenary leader in a fair fight and neither did he challenge anyone outstanding, it was only by chance Henek got hold onto it.

The sword held a strange power in it, a power that gave him the courage to push beyond his limits, take greater risks. It was as if some great spirit of Valour hid within its simple steel channeling all its wonderous might into Henek as he struck at men after men. Where he would have normally swung once with a normal blade, he could swing twice with the sword. The Susil shamans had told him the sword held magic in it, hence it was not worth blunting its edge in simple fights. This was the first time in his line of work where he had decided to unsheath the weapon. He had heard tales of Kaler's reputation as a very powerful berserker, it would do well to use the best weapon at his disposal.

With his mercenaries engaging the bulk of Kaler's bandits, Henek easily made his way to Kaler himself. The Brave Sword in hand also helped in cutting a clear path towards his target.

***

He did not like letting others take the vanguard, but someone had to encircle the enemy in order to out flank them. Joukaha fought hard against himself to keep his berserker spirit from raging out of him as a real fight awaited him a mere few strides away. A leader had to always keep his cool, and Joukaha had always been considered a good one...by Yracian standards.

As his men reached the edges of the dark forest on the farside of the village, they were caught by surprise from Kaerhu bandits who were ordered to remain there throughout the raid. Caught unprepared, Joukaha immediately lost two good men to initial strike. The Kaerhu men retreated back into the forest as swiftly as they had left it, purposely showing glimpses of their iron axes reflecting the burning village to taunt Joukaha's men to rush into whatever traps they may have prepared for them.

Joukaha called his men to ignore the Kaerhu hiding amongst the bushes and simply charge into the exposed rear of the Kaerhu fighting in the village. His men complied. Better the Kaerhu forces stay divided, mused Joukaha.

***

Kaler grinned as he watched Henek approach him with murderous intent in his eyes. Not a single Kaerhu bandit dared get in the way of the two warriors. Kaler lazily held up the strange weapon in his hand for Henek to see.

It resembled a double bladed axe made entirely out of metal, but the top part was suspiciously forged very close together, forming a long narrow slit. As Henek concentrated on recalling where he might have seen such an unsusual weapon before, to better understand what his foe was capable of, Kaler seized the opportunity to swiftly grab and fling a nearby stool at him.

With barely anytime to react, Henek instead braced himself against the stool as it shattered on his shoulder armour. As he blinked reflexively to protect his eyes from splinters in the air, he felt cold iron bite into his shoulder. A hand axe had buried itself there. Henek let out a curse at the pain but was thankful that it was not his sword arm that was struck.

Kaler grinned wickedly, withdrawing another hand axe from his side as he said, "Dangers come from all directions half-breed."

Ambidexterity, just great, thought Henek. He had faced few ambitextrous opponents in the past and had bad experiences with each of them. There was very little time to contemplate in battle what one's next moves were, hence all combatants end up striking and predicting their opponent's moves based on instinct. And sound instinct came from a lot of experience. Few people used their left hands to fight, thus even seasoned warriors make grevious mistakes when fighting someone striking from an unfamiliar direction.

Kaler started circling the mercenary leader biding his time to let the wound work its wonders. The blow was not fatal, but it was deep enough to cause Henek to keep bleeding. In time, the blood loss would dull the mercenary leader's senses, making the kill less risky and easier for the Yracian. It also helped that his opponent knew about his own situation. With a battle of attrition as an invalid option, Kaler knew Henek's only chance of victory was to act fast and hastily, the perfect recipe for a fatal mistake.

Henek gripped his sword tightly, baring his spirit to the one in the sword. He felt a powerful surge of confidence fill him, his senses focused, the pain from the wound vanishing from his mind. He felt as if he was a puppet master, detached and controlling his body from afar, unable to feel the pain and fatigue coursing through his body. Immediately, Henek charged Kaler with the ferocity and speed of a lightning bolt.

Kaler was expecting his foe to rush at him. A head on charge was not out of the question, but the suddeness at which Henek moved caused him to prematurely fling the hand axe he held on his left hand weakly. The swift swordsman swung his sword in a wide arc, smacking away the poorly thrown handaxe, then proceeded to thrust his blade at Kaler. Recovering his wits quickly, Kaler took nimbly side stepped, evading the very narrow hitzone of the sword thrust and kicked Henek in the knee caps with enough strength to break it.

Henek fell down, instinctively clutching his injured leg and dropping his sword in the process. Without the spirit within the sword to shield his mind from the pain and fatigue of the human body, Henek screamed as a sudden surge of pain and exhaustion flooded his thoughts.

***

Cautiously keeping his fallen adversary within sight, Kaler reached down and picked up Henek's sword and looked over it. Such a simple looking weapon, yet there is powerful magic within, thought Kaler as he felt the spirit within the sword reach out for him to fill him with strength, so this is the secret behind the former leader's strength.

Feeling joyous at the wonderful weapon in his hand, Kaler contemplated capturing a weak-willed Susil tribe Yracian to teach him the way of the sword. If that did not work, he could assemble more raids to Letam and have one of their fabled swordmasters captured to tutor him. Swinging the sword clumsily as he was unused to the shape and weight distributions of the relatively well balanced sword, Kaler again brandished his personal weapon before his foe. A better idea had crossed his mind.

"This, mercenary, is known as a Swordslayer. Forged by Letam blacksmiths with the dark knowledge borrowed from the ancient towers of Emocni, it holds within it a spirit that hungers for the taste of swords within it's jaws," explained Kaler inserting the Brave sword through the strange slits of the Swordslayer.

"See how the jaws tightened? Do you hear the spirit within your sword scream as it understands that doom is upon it?" said Kaler excitedly as the 'jaws' of the Swordslayer started crushing the Brave sword. A deep growling could be heard coming from the sword as the spirit fought to reinforce the deceptively normal steel of the Brave sword against the relentless force of the Swordslayer. Kaler watched with his mind's eye the invisible struggle between the two spirits.

Then he heard a loud familiar battlecry as someone large charged his way.

***

Joukaha rushed into the burning village just in time to see Kaler insert Henek's sword into a strange looking axe. Was it even an axe, wondered Joukaha as he observed his adversary. The rest of the Kaerhu raiders had left Kaler's side to engage with other combatants as he was known to have killed nearby friends or foes in his bloodlust when in a duel.

Seeing Henek's troubled state, Joukaha raised his large two handed axe with both hands and charged at Kaler. As he closed in on his foe, Joukaha let out his trademark battlecry to call his opponent to face him.

Expecting Kaler to look up at him in surprise, giving Joukaha the few seconds he needed to cleave his foe in two, Joukaha was instead met with a swift smash to the face as Kaler's fist swung out faster than Joukaha could complete his swing with the massive axe in his hand.

The blow broke his already twice broken nose, but surprisingly, his teeth and jaw held their place. Tumbling down, Joukaha did not wait for his vision to clear and swung the hand axe by his side quickly and with great force in a wild attempt to strike Kaler in case the other berserker decided to use the opportunity to close in for a kill. His gambit paid off as he felt it bit into flesh and bone. The howl of pain that escaped Kaler's lungs was sweet music Joukaha as he stood up and focused on his surroundings.

His head swam slightly as the punch Kaler did to him packed nothing but the honest strength of Yracian berserker. As his vision cleared, he could make out Kaler clutching a bleeding stump where his left hand should be. Out of the corner of his eyes, Joukaha spotted Kaler's missing left hand still griping the swordslayer and Brave sword a few paces away from Kaler.

***

Knowing that he would either bleed to death long before he could receive any aid or be cut down by some of his more treacherous subordinates if he was foolish enough to ask them for aid, Kaler decided to make his death as glorious as possible. He would drag his killer with him into the cold inviting grasps of Death itself. Calling upon the berserker spirit that dwelt within all true blooded Yracians and the might of a dying man with nothing to lose, Kaler let lose a loud fearsome roar of determination, frightening away all fear and pain from his mind.

***

As much as he hated the man, Joukaha decided that it would be too cruel to let Kaler suffer a slow ignoble death by bleeding or even worse, live the rest of his life as a disgraced cripple. Raising his massive two handed axe to perform a sincere gesture of mercy, Joukaha was taken aback by the ferocity of Kaler's final roar. It was far louder than any he had ever heard, perhaps rivaling the terrifying dragons of old.

That split second of shock was all Kaler needed to knock Joukaha off his feet with a head on tackle. Blood flowed out of his bleeding stump endlessly as Kaler's heart pumped much faster than he ever had in his life, further decreasing the time he had to end the life of his foe. But the strength he received as compensation enabled him to reach out and grasp the flesh on Joukaha's exposed chest, tearing out chunks of it with his barehands. Joukaha screamed in agony as he had never felt such pain in all his fighting experience. Kaler's attack left Joukaha with his raw chest muscles exposed to the elements, something his mind could never perceive ever happening.

Every nerve in Joukaha told him to flee Kaler, to put as much distance between the two of them. But that would make him look like a coward, which was similar to dying for a man who valued his pride about as much as his honour. Then he remembered that he still had his axe in hand...

***

Cynthia watched the entire scene unfold with agony in her heart, unable to step in and deliver a prayer to ease the pain of those innocent villagers as they died. The two fighters Joukaha ordered to watch over her kept her from entering the fray as they were tasked to make sure she remained alive, which was considerably easier to accomplished the further away from danger she was.

Hence she did all she could do from where she was, recite all the verse and rites from the ancient scriptures recorded by the first heirophants of the Seer Laynia. The words always calmed her down with their wisdom and most of all, monotone. She was afraid that the Yracians accompanying her would find it irritating as they looked were displeased with the guarding duty assigned to them, because like most Yracians, their heart calls for battle.

Finally reciting all the verses of her immediate sect, Cynthia began reciting the ones of the other sects. Looking at her two custodians, she realised she had mixed feelings about the Yracians that had her held against her will.

They maybe enemies to Rekam, but they were human all the same. Her superiors had preached about being merciful and understanding, that all living things were born good and pure, evil was a concept employed by people to justify hurting others, themselves being the true source of the evil they claim exist within those they brand their enemies. It was easy for her to nod and acknowledge such things as truth without a second thought in the many sermons she had held. But being in the middle of a real fight between her countryman and the 'enemy', she could see with her own eyes how true their words were. That the actions done by people cannot be confined to simple definations such as good and evil, hence the followers of the Mercy sept are thought to keep an open mind and be willing to heal anyone, even those defined as the enemy.

While lost in contemplation about the teachings she had learned after so many years in service to the heirophants, Cynthia failed to notice the two fighters with her suddenly collapsing dead with spears sticking out of their backs until a gauntleted fist landed on her shoulder. Startled, she would have screamed in surprise had the other gauntleted fist not covered her mouth. She followed the hand and saw a paladin in black armour looking at her.

The paladin said coldly, "Hush bishop, I am Daniel, head of this division of paladins. My division had been sent out to repel these Yracians."

Edited June 29, 2011 by Rothkitty

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 8

An axe in hand did Joukaha little good when all his muscles were concentrated at his windpipe in order to not allow his foe the chance to crush it. Abandoning the cumbersome axe, Joukaha reached out to pry open Kaler's remaining hand from his throat with both his hands instead.

With weakening rasping voice, Kaler said to Joukaha, "I am dying and I know it Joukaha of the Vahvih...so look into these eyes! Look at them as my son has them too...he shall hear of my death, and he shall hunt you for the rest of your days! He shall avenge me..."

Joukaha stared into the cold blue eyes of his foe, so cold they reminded Joukaha of the friggid wastelands of his home, and of Death who roamed it in search of souls to take. Slowly, his own muscles weakened as fear crept into his heart.

While the two bleeding berserkers were locked in a death grip with each other, Henek managed to retrieve his sword, then crawled over to them agonizingly. Raising the sword up high and shutting out most of the pain for the one decisive moment to steady his sword arm, Henek thrusted his sword into Kaler's back, severing his spinal cord and barely grazing Joukaha's chest.

With that, the mighty Kaerhu berserker's remaining hand finally stilled.

***

Daniel brazenly charged into the fray, with Lightbrand at hand and confidence in his soul, he once again raised it up high and shouted out the holy word to release a trickle of the spirit housed within the blade's power. The silvery eagle shaped spirit of Redemption flew out and swooped into the cluster of Kaerhu bandits still locked in combat with the combined forces of Susil mercenaries and Vahvih fighters. The resulting burst sent them spiralling awway for each other, divided.

Following standard battle procedures, the paladins swiftly rushed in to fill the gaps made by the stunned Yracians and stabed the closest ones to death. Those that recovered their wits quickly abandoned the fight and started scattering, a fatal mistake as they could never outrun the horses the Rekamite's used.

***

Desperately trying to shut out the pain coursing through them, Joukaha and Henek weakly attempted to stand. Henek had no other choice but to hang onto Joukaha, who was doing no better in trying to stand, let alone rally their men.

He was losing a lot of blood due to Kaler's final blow to him, Joukaha knew he needed the healing powers of Cynthia in order to live. But, is it worth living for a few more moments only to die upon the spears of a paladin, wondered Joukaha, at least it would be a warriors death that way.

Joukaha breath in as much air as he could for one final rallying cry...only to utter a weak wizzing sound as his vision swam. The huge berserker dropped his axe and crumpled to the ground, almost crushing the smaller Henek with his impressive girth.

***

Seeing their leaders fall, was the catalyst that broke the fighting spirit of all the Yracians. They had forced march all the way to the village and engaged in savage combat immediately. They were exhausted and battle weary, their sword arms limping as each blow and parry seemed all the more heavier, made worse due to the speed and precise grace of the organised and well rested Rekam paladins.

Giving up on the entire fight, the Vahvih fighters broke ranks and fled alongside Kaerhu bandits, all sense of tribal conflict forgotten while the Susil mercenaries dropped their weapons and surrendered, knowing full well that there were too little of them left to escape the entire division of paladins.

Feeling the pain of his wounded chest and throbbing headache, Daniel remembered that he had not fully recovered from his battle with Laemin's men. His dutiful spirit burned with the need to fulfil his task, but he knew that his men were enough, and that he needed rest. Then he noticed someone weakly tugging at his reins. Turning around, he saw the bishop he had rescued earlier in tears. She said, "Please sir paladin, call off the chase...I beg you please."

Puzzled, Daniel asked Cynthia wearily, "Why should I do that? Doing such a thing would allow the Yracians to escape."

"Has not enough blood been spilled this very day? Must more die?" asked Cynthia with a hint off delirium in her voice. She had been taught that life is precious, to heal all who are hurt, be they friend or foe, people of any race, men or beast alike. She had thought it bad enough being unable to save the lives of the sick in the isolated cosy monastery. Forty years of isolation has made me forgotten how dark and cruel the world beyond the monastery gate was, thought Cynthia despairingly.

Daniel shook his head, which worsened the pain as well as his mood, and said, "That I cannot do. If I let them roam freely, they would band together and become bandits to plague this once peaceful part of Rekam. The price for sparing them now would be paid in the blood of as many innocents as it takes to bring them to justice. I cannot allow that, sorry your holiness." He then spotted the prone forms of Joukaha and Henek. Carefully getting off the horse he borrowed from one of the less battle ready paladins who was seriously wounded in the earlier skirmish, Daniel brandished Lightbrand in order to put the two leaders out of their misery.

Following Daniel's gaze, Cynthia saw the target of his blade and immediately deduced what he was about to do. So many had died, a whole escort, an entire village, two bands of fighting men and now two more lives would be added to the ever growing list if she did not act fast. Thus she did what she hoped would be enough to grant those two mercy.

Cynthia ran forward with staff in hand as she channeled her will into it, to call upon the aid of the healing spirits in the air that are drawn to the siren's call of the staff. As she channeled, a dozen glowing white butterflies started fluttering around her and slowly descended upon the two men on the ground, causing their wounds to mend as they got closer.

***

As the sound of fighting started fading, Gerald looked up and called out, "Mom! Mom! Anybody?"

Hearing no reply, Gerald decided to try to climb up the rope in the well. As he did so, the wolf spirit that never left him gave a low growl and suddenly, he felt it gain some substance as it nudged at him from the back.

Each time the beast established contact with his body, he felt the chill from the water melt away and warm blood flowed through his veins, which granted him more strength to climb the slippery rope.

Unfortunately, sheer willpower was not enough and his spirit companion did not exist on the mortal plane for too long.

***

Puzzled by Cynthia's actions, Daniel stayed his blade and asked, "Why do you try to save these lives? Are there no other Rekamites around that are in need of your talents?"

"Because these are wounded men before me, and all the curates and clerics who follow the merciful path the Seer Laynia had shown us are bound to hold all life sacred. Thus it is my duty to heal and save anything that is within my power to heal," said Cynthia with pride in her heart.

Daniel sighed and muttered to himself softly, "This is why clerics and their ilk should remain as far from the battlefield as possible." Heal the enemy so that they can get back up to fight us is never a good battle tactic, he thought.

Nevertheless, he was in no position to defy the bishop's choice. The heirachy of who has more authority must be uphold by men such as him for if the enforcers of the Heirophant of Laynia's will were to defy the creed of dutiful obedience they swore, what then will become of the obedience of the thousands of lesser men who serve the Heirophants?

***

Joukaha felt as if snowflakes were covering his body slowly. So is this what death felt like? The cold grip, so quiet, so peaceful, so...empty, wondered Joukaha. He had always envisioned himself dying in the heat of battle, one so fierce that no one would have the time to acknowledge his fall, eventually buried among the remains of his friends and foes, his body forgotten but at least his deeds remembered.

Not like this, alone in foreign soil, no one remaining to spread word of my struggle, my wonderous deeds, thought Joukaha feeling sorry for himself. Then again what deeds have I accomplished anyway? My last fight with Kaler was a joke, a dishonourable victory.

Then he realised he was regaining strength. The coldness now enveloped him, filling him with calmness and clarity of thought. As he slowly felt his conciousness returned, he opened his eyes and saw the tearful face of Cynthia looking down at him. Well, what are the odds of a stranger just healing her very own enemy, mused Joukaha. He did not know why she did it, but he was glad she did. The living always have opportunities to accomplish greatness, the dead do not.

He looked beyond the bishop and saw an imposing figure fully clad in black armour with a blazing sword in hand. At first he thought it was Death whom the bishop somehow held at bay with her healing powers, though he was not far from the truth, until his vision cleared more, he realised it was a paladin in black armour whos sword was merely reflecting the light from the fire of the burning village. Seeing the Rekamite military man there, Joukaha did not know what course of action he should take.

"I know you're aware of your surrounding Yracian. No need to feign unconciousness, I can tell your wide awake due to the jerking of your body. And more importantly how you keep straining to shut your eyes, yet open them once in a while to take a peek at me," said Daniel somewhat amused. He then continued, "You may sit up with dignity Yracian, you have my word that no Rekamite will strike you while you are defenseless tonight."

Joukaha could not see Daniel's facial epxressions due to the perpetual darkness casted by the helmet all paladins wore, but he decided that the tone the Rekamite used held sincerity. Grumbling lightly about being a prisoner of war, Joukaha sat up straight, then they all heard a boy's voice from the well cry out.

Immediately, Joukaha snapped into attention and stood up. The abruptness at which he moved almost caused Daniel to raise his blade and place himself between Cynthia and the berserker if he were not also more preoccupied with thoughts about saving the life of another Rekamite. Cynthia too was distracted, but more so by the spiritual energy she felt emnating from the well than the voice itself.

Without wasting anytime, the two men rushed to the well while Cynthia continued healing Henek. They reached it in time to see Gerald slip and fall into the water of the well. While Daniel scrambled to take off his armour, Joukaha grabbed hold onto the edge of the well and hauled himself into it. So many innocent blood has been spilled tonight, by the honour of the Vahvih, I shall save at least one soul before I die, thought Joukaha as he pressed his mighty limbs against the well walls to slow his descend.

***

Gerald had about given up hope but suddenly a huge figure appeared to dive into the well. He was larger than any man Gerald had seen. Is he a Yracian, wondered Gerald worryingly. He had heard tales of their size and strength.

Joukaha managed to stop just above the boy and offered his left hand saying, "Grab it boy!" feeling grateful that despite their conflicting borders, the people of Rekam, Letam and Yrac all spoke in a very similar tongue.

Gerald was afraid of the big man, but he was more afraid of dying. Thus he reached out for Joukaha's hand. Feeling the weak touch of Gerald, Joukaha quickly strained his arm forward and grasp Gerald by the elbow to haul him up.

Placing Gerald on his back, Joukaha commanded the boy to hug him tightly. Gerald complied without any question.

With Gerald hugging tightly onto his back, Joukaha began the slippery task of scalling the well walls. He knew full well that the rope meant for the bucket could never support a man of his size.

***

Henek slowly felt the same sensations that Joukaha went through. Opening his eyes, Henek slowly rose up until a gentle hand stopped him before he began using his legs. Cynthia said, "Don't get up just yet. You've sustained a very heavy injury to your knees. This will take a while to heal."

With that, Henek instead chose to sit still rather than stand. Surveying the carnage and what little that remained of his mercenaries huddled to one corner with paladins watching over them, he could not help but ask, "Why have I been spared?"

Cynthia chuckled weakly and replied, "Because it was within my power to save you. These are paladins, their objective is to defend the lands of Rekam and the will of the Heirophants. Your men who surrendered were granted mercy, those that fled were cut down to prevent them from being bandits. You are allowed to live so long as you do not try to do any harm, for which I advice you against doing."

"Heh, you take me for a fool? Mercenaries know how to survive, surrendering when in a pickle is one of the fundemental techniques a mercenary masters. Betraying their clients or selling out secrets for their lives is another story entirely and highly dependant on the nature of the mercenary in question him or herself," said Henek.

He then turned his gaze to the well where he saw the paladin in black carrying a Rekamite boy out of the back of Joukaha. The paladin then proceeded to chastise Joukaha for leaping into the well foolishly when he could have just asked the boy to sit on the well bucket as the two of them worked together to pull him up. Joukaha then pointed out that when he was about to leap into the well, he had spotted the paladin removing his armour, indicating that he himself had also thought about taking the same course of action Joukaha took earlier. Embarrased, the paladin turned his back to Joukaha and proceeded to formally introduce himself to Henek.

***

As Daniel called his fellow paladins to round up the prisoners, another two paladins returned from scouting the forest for stragglers with a few boys who claimed to have come from the village. Observing Gerald literally leaped up with joy to hug them, Daniel deduced that they were telling the truth.

"So what am I to do with you Yracians? I have the word of her holiness as proof that you have came to this village to save it. Not that you have accomplished much," said Daniel keeping as much neutrality as he could in his voice, for in truth, he was admiring the righteousness in these Yracians who were willing to spill the blood of their country men for what is right, something few men would do. Not that we managed to save much of it either, those other Yracians had been very thorough with killing all the other village inhabitants, even the livestock were not spared, thought Daniel grimly.

"Under normal law, I am to execute you all on the spot for invasion, robbing precious property and more importantly, for spilling the blood of servants of the Heirophants of Laynia. Because of that last offence, your deaths should have been assured," said Daniel taking into account the three dead monks from the earlier ambush. He then continued, "but due to your noble actions I shall spare as many of you as there are survivors of this village."

At that point there was a brief silence as the Yracians and Rekamites started mentally counting the number of survivors. They realised there were twelve Yracian prisoners but only seven survivors from the village...

[Rothene]

Prologue: Part 9

Gerald was as displeased as the other boys when they were placed far away from the rest of the adults who were about to discuss about what to do about the captured Yracians. The paladin assigned to watch over them wore his helm in such a way that none of them could not see his face. Everytime one of them tried to speak to him, the man would slice the air with his hand to silence them. Like the rest of the boys, he was craning his head to listen to what the other men and woman were discussing.

Some of the boys were wondering if they would have the chance to see the noble paladins executing all of the Yracians. Some of them snapped to attention as soon as they saw the Yracians spent a short while looking at all of them then turning pale.

"Those barbarians killed everyone, they should all die," hissed one of the boys. Not one of the survivors knew what happened in the village. While Gerald had been stuck under the well for a long while, the other boys were deep in the forest trying to scare each other while hunting in the dark.

***

Daniel looked at all the shocked faces of the Yracians as they came to an understanding that not all of them would be spared. Cynthia approached him and said, "You can't do this. Who are you to decide who lives and who dies?"

Looking at Cynthia, Daniel realised how much choosing who would be spared would weigh on his concience. He had believed his decision was flawlessly fair and just. He still did, but he would not have the blood of the next Yracian on his hands, but if he withdrew his decision, it would make him appear weak in decision making.

Turning to face Joukaha, Daniel said, "As you have saved the life of a Rekamite, you shall be spared and be given a noble task. You shall have the right to carry out the will of the Laynia. Among your other fellow Yracians, you may nominate who should we spare..."

Hearing Daniel's words, Cynthia screamed out, interrupting him, "Cruelty! How can you not spare all of them? They came here to save this village!"

Daniel hesitated, then narrowed his eyes ignoring Cynthia as he renewed his conviction in his decision and continued, "...we shall make sure those who do not make it receive proper burial as they see fit...so long as it
does not involve having their remains returned to Yracian soil."

***

Joukaha swallowed his rage as he listened to Daniel. Trying to pass the guilt you cowardly bastard, thought Joukaha. He wanted to reach out and crush Daniel's windpipe, but such an act would lead to all of the Yracians dying. Not wanting the blood of fellow Yracians in his hands, Joukaha decided he would have to do the same thing as Daniel.

Looking at all of Henek's mercenaries and finally Henek himself, Joukaha knew what he had to do. The excuse was there, he just had to use it.

***

"Daniel, you have slaughtered all those who took direct orders from me," said Joukaha holding back tears as he felt despair flooding into him as it finally sunk in that all the Vahvih fighters who followed him to the village had perished, and he was all alone. But somewhere in him, he felt afraid. Afraid of dying. He wanted so desperately to live.

"I do not know these men personally, would it not be better that their real leader decide which of them remain?" pleaded Joukaha trying his best to not look at Henek. He could feel a sudden baleful glare trying to pierce through his mortal self and peer at his fearful immortal soul coming from the back of him.

Daniel nodded at Joukaha's words in understanding and asked, "Very well, who is the leader of the other Yracians?"


Henek failed to hold back both his tears and rage and shouted, "ME...I, Henek, am the leader of these mercenaries! We followed the orders of Joukaha to save this village. We risked our lives for people of foreign lands, but similar blood, and the honour of those who view us as lesser men! You call yourself honourable and just? Surely you jest paladin. I bet your heart is as black as your armour!"

As he concluded his outburst, Henek stood up swiftly, and before the other paladins could react, spat at Daniel's face.

***

The cold spittle stung Daniel's pride immensely. He wanted to slice the Yracian's head off in that instant, but he remembered recognising a strange resemblence in the features of Henek and Gerald to a certain man he knew for the brief moment he saw the two of them near each other. It had piqued his curiosity, despite holding no immediate benefit to him.

"For such an act, I nominate you to be spared. To understand that you shall live in place of where another would have because of your foolish youthful rage. Now go pick those among them who have children or families to return to one day." said Daniel pointing his sword towards Henek and adding coldly, "Do not presume I have not taken the attempts of your mercenaries to save the village into account. You forget that none of this slaughter would have happened if you Yracians had not crossed the borders in the first place."

Henek wanted to argue more, but after releasing all the rage, all that was left was fatigue. His will to argue had broken as soon as it smashed furiously against the stoic wall of Daniel's warped sense of justice.

Defeated, he turned to the gloomy faces of his men.

***

"I'm sorry that I have led you all into this. The last master would have kept arguing against this stupid errand." said Henek, looking at each of them in the eye. He was fully prepared to accept their dismay at his poor judgement. He then continued, "So, foolish question on my part but which of us are willing to meet our other comrades on the other side?"

"Heh, don't be so hard on yourself Henek. I'm already too old to find someone to spend the rest of my days," said Gurney, reminding the rest of the band that he was already past thirty and remained a mercenary because he had nothing else to look forward to doing. He then looked at the others and said, "Well guys, looks like I can't keep looking after the whole lot of you forever like I planned to."

The rest remained silent and looked at each other quietly. Nobody really wanted to die. Even Gurney was kept shifting his position, clearly having second thoughts about what he said. Then an idea hit him. They were mercenaries, not raiders. Their allegience was to the highest bidder. Right now, no one else could offer any reward more lucrative than their lives but the paladins.

"No one dies under me," said Henek standing up. He was intent on renegotiating his own terms.

***

"So you have finally decided amongst yourselves who shall live beyond tomorrow?" asked Daniel lazily.

"Yes we have," said Henek smirking, "I have a proposal that involves us living, and may prove beneficial to Rekam and the Heirophants."

"Oh? In that case I would hear it," said Daniel. Having a good reason to spare all of them would certainly silence the bishop, he thought. If the reason was good enough, he corrected himself.

"As you know we are Yracian mercenaries, but all of us have Rekamite blood in us as our ancestors or even some of those currently among us were Rekamites captured as slaves by Yracian raiders. Our obligation to serve the Yracians had always been more on survival than actually loyalty." said Henek laying down his sword before Daniel as he continued, "We always sold our services to the highest bidder, and currently Rekam has the resources to grant us our lives and our freedom. Would it not be better to serve Rekam with our lives than with our deaths?"

"Interesting. You claim that you can provide the loyalty of your mercenaries to the Heirophants of Laynia?" asked Daniel. Henek looked at his fellow mercenaries as they nodded quickly in unison, no doubt prefering this new terms as it was not much different from the ones they have been living under.

"Very well, do any of my brothers here disagree with their terms?" asked Daniel sweeping his head around looking at the other paladins. Not one of them raised any objections. Too much blood had been spilt, no one wanted anymore of it. Daniel then ordered Henek, "Have your men disarm themselves quickly. No doubt they shall prove useful in helping us bury the dead as we Rekamites utter the rites and prayers so that the spirits of the recent dead may depart to Laynia's guiding light."

***

Henek's men worked hard to bury as much dead as they could alongside the paladins who had the presence of mind, and immensely foolish trust to strip down their armour to use as shovels to dig the graves. A mercenary's contract was an important part of a mercenary's life. It represented trust in them and trust was the currency mercenaries trade in. Hence not one of them attempted to escape.

There were too many Kaerhu corpses to bury which were instead burned but not before they were granted prayers by the Cynthia and her two clerics. Daniel and a few other paladins who were less spiritually attuned made themselves useful by adding more muscle power to the gravedigging. Joukaha naturally lend his strength to the felling of trees to make proper grave marks. Each individual villager, Vahvih fighter and Susil mercenary who lost their lives were given their own graves. Gerald and the other boys were given the grim task of identifying the dead Rekamites, those not burned beyond recognition or who's features were not too mangled by a Kaerhu axe, so that their names could be engraved upon their marks to be remembered by seven orphaned boys.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they finished their task, and no magic from the clerics could heal away the fatigue all of them felt.

Daniel had them all rest in the forest. They would go to the fortress the next day.

***

Standing on a tree stump behind Joukaha who was sitting down, Gerald tapped him on the shoulder and asked, "Why did you jump into the well to save me?"

Surprised at the sudden touch Joukaha flinched slightly before recognising the boy from the well. He looks strangely similar to Henek, or is it just the red hair, wondered Joukaha as he tried to answer Gerald's question, "I have no idea. When I came by your village, I saw so many innocent people dying because of my failed leadership. Saving you was a selfish act, a weak consolation for my patheticness."

"I see," said Gerald unsure what to ask next. Then he remembered his mother was not among the identified dead and quickly asked, "When you arrived at my village, did you see my mother?"

He then went on to great length describing he long brown hair, her green eyes and then started speaking of how she had raised him while Joukaha sat still and shook his head sadly and said, "No, by the time I got to the village, the villagers were either dead or dying. Perhaps her remains were among the ashes where the large building once stood."

"No...I...it's...she can't be..." said Gerald in denial. The two of them shared a special bond, something those who had both their parents alive or choose to live apart from their parents could never have. Somewhere in him, he knew she was still alive like his father. Or at least that is what he wanted to believe.

Joukaha placed his hand gently on Gerald's small shoulders and was about to say something when Cynthia suddenly came over and requested, "Child, I would like you to come with me for a moment."

Surprised, Gerald hesitated for a moment, then followed Cynthia while sparing a glance at Joukaha as he left him.

***

"What is you name child?" asked Cynthia as she and Gerald walked together deeper into the forest.

"Gerald...Gerald Redhair," answered Gerald.

"Redhair?" stated Cynthia raising an eyebrow then chuckled lightly as she said, "Interesting last name you have."

"Well, my father supposedly never remembered his last name, so the bishop who found him washed up from the northern coast gave him that name. Since then it he called himself Redhair," said Gerald slightly emberrased.

"A bishop found him? Which sect? Was he taught the prayers and rites?" asked Cynthia curious. There were many things she wanted to ask, and she still had not reached the main point of them being out in the forest.

Gerald could imagine the questions buzzing through the bishop's head and decided to recite the story of how his father and mother met, "My mother used to live in a monastery somewhere along the northern coast. Where exactly, she has not told me. She said she would when I'm grown up," at this point Gerald paused for a moment as he realised now he might never know where did his mother come from the continued, "then one day, the bishop there found my father along the coast. My father seemed to have no recollection of his past, other than his archery skills and his name. Mother said that while caring for him, she fell in love with him and left the monastery when he was strong enough to leave. Since then they never went back to that monastery. Mother was very quiet about her life there."

"Ah, probably excommunicated for her actions. Oh child, how you have suffered to live with one who had chosen passion over faith." said Cynthia pitying Gerald.

"Suffer? But we were happy together, mother would teach me how to tend wounds and banish illness with herbs gathered from this forest. She taught me how to help the village in our own way. Every moment I spent with her were happy times," said Gerald frustrated at how cruel the bishop was for saying that living with his mother was suffering.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend you Gerald. Enough talk of this uncomfortable things," said Cynthia not wanting to anger the boy, "I must ask, what do you know about the spirit that appears around you once in a while?"

"Spirit? What spirit? Are you asking me if I've seen ghosts?" asked Gerald confused.

"Down in the well, did you see anything...strange?" asked Cynthia, "Did anything down there resemble animals you know of that seem out of place?"

"There was a wolf...one that I can see through. I've felt it before many times, but only in the well did I see it fully for the first time. Is that a spirit?" asked Gerald.

Cynthia smiled at his reply and said, "Yes, it is a spirit. Gerald, you have a gift. What do you think about the abbility to mend wounds without herbs but sheer faith and staff?"

"You mean like how you touch us lightly with your staff and cause the pain to go away?" asked Gerald opening his eyes wide with wonder, "Are you saying I can do it too?"

"Yes. Yes you can. I can teach you to use magic. That wolf spirit is actually your soul, the other half of you born in a world only the spirits can see and dwell. I can teach you to use it to call upon the blessings of the spirits of Mercy that aided the great Seer Laynia back in the times of old. I can teach you to be a curate," said Cynthia. She had plans to have a monastery build over the place the village once stood. The children left behind would need a home, and she decided it would be right to have it where they used to live. Besides, there might still be restless spirits there that need more powerful sendings, thought Cynthia.

The next day, the paladins allowed the boys and clerics to ride on their horses with them while setting a slow but steady pace for the prisoners to march to the fortress.

***

"So you're telling me that these are the only Yracians your men have been able to round up?" asked Sir Bolevar, knight of the fortress. His expensive mythril plate mail rested on the corner of his office, a reminder of his power and wealth to all who saw it.

Although he had the prestigious title of Lord Knight of the fortress, the real power was in the hands of the Heirophants and their servants. No one but the kings would risk the ire of the Heirophants, not even a noble such as he. The only thing he had was respect, as the Heirophants and their servants respect the heirachy.

"Yes, my lord. The rest were cut down for not surrendering. They were already fighting amongst themselves by the time we got there as I've written in my report," said Daniel. He did not like reporting to the knight before him not because the man was unpleasant, but because recounting everything in detail was tedious work.

"Fighting amongst themselves? What strange actions," said Bolevar then added, "Now why would they do such a foolish thing? I suppose I would find out through a few interogation sessions in the dungeons."

"Ah, about the matter interogations my lord, the Yracians are now under the jurisdiction of the Heirophants and its servants. Hence what becomes of them shall be done as we see fit." reminded Daniel.

"I see. Very well then, they are yours," said Bolevar, knowing better than to argue against a servant of the Heirophants. Satisfying his curiousity was not worth the risk of earning the enmity of the Heirophants as well as the cost of keeping the prisoners. He then asked, "So I take it the Yracians will not be here long?"

"No they would not my lord. I have everything written in detail in that report. I doubt you would find it lacking. Had you read the whole thing earlier, I doubt you would have asked me anything you did just now." said Daniel in a bored tone. He wanted to leave and speak with the Yracians. The rest they had in the forest near the village would have been the perfect opportunity to speak more, but none of the Yracians had any strength to even engage in a full conversation.

"Right, I shall trouble you no more for the mean time paladin. You may take your leave Brother Daniel." said Bolevar resigning himself to read the long report on his desk.

Long after Daniel left, Bolevar leaned back on his chair and wondered how long would the Yracian mercenaries survive in the service of the Heirophants and gave a silent prayer to their common sense.

***

As Daniel walked towards the room the Yracians were kept, Walter rushed to his side and eagerly asked him, "So how did the meeting go Daniel?"

Looking at Walter coldly, Daniel said, "Brother Walter, you forget yourself. You are to address a dignified servant of the Heirophants properly as befiting of their station. I know you have found your faith very late in life, thus I have been lenient and reminding you of your errors all this while, do not force my hand to evoke a more powerful reminder to ensure you do not forget your respect."

Walter quickly nod his head with a slight brutish grunt that Daniel chose to overlook then apologised, "Forgive me Brother Daniel. I meant no disrespect."

"You are forgiven," said Daniel then continued, " About the meeting, Sir Bolevar has yet again astound me as to how he had earned his title. The knight did not even bother to read the report. Much time could have been saved had he did his work properly," said Daniel. Remembering Walter was once nobility like Bolevar, he wondered what would Walter have been like had his father sent him off to a monastery to learn the ways of a paladin at a young age. What a pity such a good man were to have spent so long in the comfort of his circle of nobility when he could have done so much more noble deeds in the name of the Laynia and her flock, thought Daniel.

"Brother Daniel, if I may be so bold as to ask," asked Walter nervously, "Why is it that Brother Daniel and Brother Manwell adress each other by name alone?"

Hearing Walter's question made Daniel smile lightly at the paladin and he said, "It would not be right if we did not adress each other in such a way Brother Walter. Hush now and cease your questioning, for we have some matters to take care off."

***

Henek stared at the parchment written in Rekamite before him with quill in hand. He had already dipped in the ink beside him. Everyone in the room either sat or stood in silence as they anticipated his next actions. The mercenary leader was about to sign a contract that would bind the complete loyalty of him and his men to the Heirophants of Laynia for ten years. He had no idea how were foreign servants to the Heirophants treated, nor did he know if any even existed.

Daniel stood quietly before Henek, never once moving a muscle for the entire duration. If I served the Heirophants for so long, would I become like him? Orderly and disciplned, so devoid of life, wondered Henek nervously. He was not too excited about finding out what the life of a servant of the Heirophants was like if it turned ordinary living people into people like Daniel.

"You are not about to go back on your words now are you, Henek?" asked Daniel respectfully. Henek could hear the disappointment in the paladin's voice.

"No I will not. It's just we Yracians take spoken oaths rather than paper, since so few know how to read, much less write," said Henek.

"Ah, forgive me then Henek, I can have you speak the vows and change the way the words are written to indicate that I, Daniel, am accountable for any form of betrayal you or your men perform to the Heirophants," said Daniel kindly, reaching out for the parchment.

Disturbed by the sincerity Daniel treating him with, Henek quickly signed the parchment just as Daniel's hands touched the paper. "No need to worry yourself Daniel. My doubts have disappeared," said Henek.

"Now that you are officially under the Heirophants, you to remember that when addressing a member of the Heirophants of Laynia, you are to add a 'Brother' or 'Sister' before their name if their station is similar to yours. If they are more senior, you must adress them as 'Father' or 'Mother', or in some cases 'Lord Paladin' or 'Bishop'. There are more titles or greater ones that would be thought to you soon. Now all of you servants of the Heirophants, sleep well tonight for tomorrow, we leave for the city of Reksguard, where you shall be thought the basic ways of the devoted so that you may carry yourself properly before the common folk."

As Daniel spoke, Henek wondered again about whether saving his life and the lives of his men truly worth what they would be going through.

***

Joukaha was spared the dutiful fate that Henek and his mercenaries had to face, instead his would atone for his transgressions by serving under Cynthia, who was tasked with his education of the ways of the Heirophants.

Hence his first task was to aid in the construction of a new monastery built where the burned village once stood. Then he would serve as the guardian of the monastery, keeping wild beasts and thieves away while the orphans and some new acolytes would live peacefully and grow up to find their path in life. This sense of purpose allowed him to slowly heal away part of his survivors guilt. He did not know whether the orpahns were able to heal their souls or not, but being a simple brute to them, such matters were left to the clerics and bishops.

He managed to teach some of the stronger ones how to handle an axe, and fight with it, something he had to do in secret as Cynthia and her clerics were strictly against combat. The act had garnered him some support from the orphans who had despised him at first.

For ten relatively peaceful years, far away from a great war that took place between an alliance of the League of Rekam and Letam against Emocni and her hired arms from Aes between the year 1191 to 1194, he was able to watch the young Gerald grow into a gifted curate, who would always rush to heal any who were hurt as well as help him heal those who got hurt in Joukaha's secret training exercises without telling the other clerics or Cynthia.

Now in the year 1200, exactly one thousand two hundred years after the humans successfully chased the dragons off the continent of Aven, Joukaha, now in his early forties, sat at the monastery entrance and watched Jeffery, one of the orphans who took up his private axe wielding lessons, disappear into the road while the sun was high up in the sky to find his place in life. Joukaha wiped away his tears as he remembered the fine ten years he spent teaching the boy first how to chop wood effectively, to being able to hold his own skillfully against lance wielding combatants. He sat there and continued staring until the sun began to set in the autumn sky, when he felt a slight chill as the cold winter winds were blowing in slowly as it always did this time of the year.

As he turned to enter the monastery to seek refuge from the creeping cold, he heard the flapping of a creature that was too large to be a bird. Looking up, he saw a slim feminine figure astride a limping pegasus fly towards the monastery frantically. Suspecting the rider and the pegasus would not make it to the monastery before the graceful creature lost all its strength, Joukaha ran forward and shouted for the rider to land among the forest nearby. The rider complied, barely saving herself as her mount crashed into the trees, either from exhaustion or injury.

Joukaha quickly carried the golden haired, fair skinned rider to the monastery and called for Gerald. The rider was covered in bruises and scratch marks, most likely from her fall through the forest. It might have been worse if she had no branches to slow her fall and her mount's. Leaving the girl to be tended by gerald, Joukaha ran back to carry the deceptively light pegasus. He could see huge gashes onto the beautiful creature's flesh, made by weapons Joukaha was all too familiar with, the axes of the local bandits.

***

Note: Thus the Prologue has come to an end. Stay tuned in for Chapter 1!

Edited May 19, 2014 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 1

"Remind me again, why are we riding to these forestry parts of Etelann?" Bastian asked, pulling his blue cloak tightly around himself. The expensive blue cloth brushed against the insignia on his breastplate -a golden falcon surrounded by midnight blue- that indicated the house he swore his allegiance to as a cavalier. Despite not being winter, the north western lands of the kingdom of Etelann was always cold even when the rest of Rekam was in the middle of summer.

"Silence Bastian, be thankful there is a road upon which to follow! It is not our place as knights errant to question the needs of a lady," snapped Bastion's mounted companion in equally expensive looking red cloak and an insignia that sported a silver shield surrounded by forest green. While Bastian sported wide jovial eyes framed by a broad face and angular jaw, his companion's sallow face and stern countenance served as direct contrast. Clean shaven save for a small goatee with sleek jet black hair, the knight in red scared away most village children with even his gentlest gaze while his companion's thick mustache incited laughter even when bristling with anger.

Chuckling superficially, Bastian replied to his companion, "Hah, why so serious Reginald? Would it not be wise to ensure that every knight knows what the task at hand is so as to not commit a blunder?" Tugging at the reins of his warhorse to move closer to his companion's right, the blue cloaked cavalier asked softly, "Or is the cold getting to you? Perhaps some warmth from a man's touch will banish away your discomfort?"

Swiftly, Reginald yanked his reins to steer farther away from Bastian. "Keep your eastern uncouth ways in Lorigne lands where you knights flirt as much as you fight anything that walks on two legs."

"But should we not live life to the fullest? You people of the capital are always so uptight with what the Heirophants dictates," Bastian shook his head as he muttered about his companion.

"So where is our fair maiden then? Last we saw her she said she was going ahead of us, how are we gallant knights to protect our charge when she would just fly away on her own...literally?" Bastian inquired further.

"Will you ever keep your mouth shut? Can a man not ride in piece? Lady Anissa is not ahead of us, she is nearby!" Reginald bellowed angrily as he pointed to a barely visible white figure soaring above the canopy. "It cannot be helped that the pegasus she rides dislikes the confinement of the forest and seeks the freedom of the skies!"

***

Leaning on her pegasus while feeling the wind pull at her braided golden hair, Anissa surveyed the great field of green before her. Ishya hated the woods and how the branches would snare its wings, thus Anissa was forced to comply with her mount's wishes to soar above the forest while her two stalwart escorts trekked the forest, with her to serve as a guide to where they should be heading.

Then Ishya neighed loudly as an arrow pierced her hind legs, causing its rider to snap into attention. Spotting the position of her escorts, the fair skinned lady steered her pegasus to dive into the forest with much resistance. Already, the cavaliers in blue and red were pressed on all sides by rough looking men armed with axes likely stolen from humble wood cutters. Some even bore steel swords of military grade.

With careful maneuvering, Anissa made Ishya stomp on one of sword wielding men. While most of the men quickly shied away from her intrusion, a man with great dexterity ducked to the side of Ishya to slash at her wings. But the willy pegasus deftly evaded the attack with a leap and quick flap of its wings to gain great elevation.

"There's too many of them! Leave us!" shouted Reginald as he beat back a bandit with his spear. "Go now!"

Seeing they were outnumbered and that the enemy were in a position to keep them separate, Anissa nodded and instructed Ishya to fly. But a bandit rushed in and landed a hard blow to Ishya's sides with his axe, causing the winged beast to fall.

Panicking, Anissa kept tugging at the reins for Ishya to recover. The blow was not fatal, but the bandit was already readying for a second blow to the pegasus' head with his axe. At that moment, Bastian roared in fury and charged forward, his warhorse trampling over a bandit in its way, only to end up delivering a swift kick to the axe wielding bandit on top of Ishya. Free of adversaries, the pegasus immediately followed its instincts and took to the skies, escaping the ring of bandits.

***

"Ishya...just a bit more. The monastery's just over there," Anissa pointed to a building just at the edge of the forest. Whether the mount heard its rider's words encouragement or not, it was running low on blood and it's strength was faltering. Swiftly, the two descended into the forest as a large man near the monastery shouted for them to land in the forest.

Edited June 10, 2013 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 2

Quick, someone get Gerald! Who is that? Mother Cynthia is away, what should we do with her? Anissa stirred at the various voices that assailed her ears but she felt too weak to even open her eyes. Helpless, the golden haired maiden could only remain where she was, listening to the activity around her. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Ishya snort and heavy breathing. Or at least she hoped it belonged to Ishya.

There was a long silence, then Anissa felt a slight warmth all over her body and an unnatural calm. A feeling a devout of Laynia would be familiar with. As the warmth spread along her skin, she felt her bruises fade and shallow cuts mend. Slowly, strength returned to her and she opened her eyes to see the features of her healer.

Through blurred vision, Anissa could only note the well trimmed red hair of the curate healing her, then later she could see the rest of his concerned features while his eyes was closed in deep concentration.

"Relax, you are in safe hands," came a deep voice with a foreign accent, "Gerald here is one of our best healers and your mount has been tended to. It will live."

Resting her gaze on the one who spoke, Anissa could see his huge form and greying hair on top of his balding head. His size and uncommon features could only mean he was a Yracian, one of those tribal people far to the north of Rekamite lands. "Are you Joukaha of Yrac?"

The large man nodded before asking quickly, "Bandits did this to you?"

"Yes...there were a lot of them..." pushing herself up quickly as she remembered something, Anissa said urgently, "They have two of my knights! We need to rescue them!"

"If they still live. But chances are, they are dead. The bandits in that forest have not ransomed so far, for fear of revealing their camp I suppose. Only reason why they do not attack this place is because of its ties to the garrison. And because of its lack of wealth," Joukaha explained gesturing at the plain looking building. "But rest assured, I will help you track down your companions and find out if they are still alive or not."

It seemed an opportunity to bring out his long dormant fighting was present, and Joukaha's berserker blood calls for battle. Now he had an excuse to enter the bandit's territory. For too long had he watched travelers stumble into the monastery bloodied until no one tries to cross the forest anymore. The garrison up north ignores this problem, believing that they should remain facing the coasts for anymore Yracian incursions.

The old berserker had enough of bandits, his old hatred at their hand in the events that led to him being stranded far from home still burned.

Then came a loud commotion from outside and the Yracian immediately grabbed the axe lying by his side to see what was happening.

***

"Shush...do you hear that?" A tall yellowish skinned man who's striking features felt out of place in the western parts of Aven asked leaning on his saddle. The Nialpian man's two other companions strained to listen to what he heard. When they both gave him a blank stare, the Nialpian chuckled as his narrow eyes closed to resemble slits of a snake's eyes. Rubbing his flat wide nose, a heritage he inherited from the open plains far beyond that eastern stretches of the desert nation of Emocni, Kuzhuk thought to himself, Of course they can't hear anything, they lack the bearing of a great hunter of the Nialp grasslands.

"I hear nothing, Kuzhuk," answered one of the Nialpian man's companion, a silver haired man of clearly Rekamite origins with his fairer features and sharp nose. Wrinkles already lined his forehead despite his young age. Clutching a sword slung by his side, "Is it battle? Should we steer go around it?"

"Maybe, but I smell a hint of perfume in the air. The kinds nobles use," Kuzhuk explained to his companion who spoke up, smilling wryly. "For all we know, it might be our employer's retinue being attacked Wythe."

"Should I scout ahead? Laharom's itching to fly anyway," suggested a female voice from behind the two man. The dark skinned girl of the typical slight built from the Aesean island chains pulled a pegasus by her side. "If I fly up, I should be able to survey what is happening from afar."

"Alright, be quick about it Daksha," Wythe said, agreeing to Daksha's suggestion, then turning to Kuzhuk, "You, point her the direction you're getting these readings."

Edited June 11, 2013 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 3

Outnumbered, Bastion and Reginald tried to charge through the tightening ring of bandits. With Anissa free, they no longer had to worry about anything other than their own lives

In the dash for survival, the duo broke free from the circle of enemies who were not interested in being trampled. In fact, the bandits seemed to have given up on the attack as suddenly as they began. Not bothering to look back, the cavaliers continued their rush forward to the monastery where they know their charge was heading.

***

"There was a pegasus rider! She was fleeing that way!" reported Daksha pointing at the direction Anissa was heading, then added grimly, "and her mount looked bloody."

"Pegasus rider...she couldn't be..." Wythe muttered in shock.

"This could be interesting," Kuzhuk said, "does that mean our employer might be dead? You did accept that advance pay right?"

"Shut up," Wythe snapped angrily, "no delays, we go to the meeting place with haste, and ready those salves Kuzhuk, we might need them."

Without a word of protest, the trio made their way towards the monastery as fast as they could.

My first independent assignment and my client is dying on me before I even get to start, thought the Rekamite gloomily as he spurred his mount onward. I should have warned them not to take the road.

It was not his choice to take up this assignment, but his boss was preoccupied, and thus his group had to stand in for his employer. The prospect of where their client would lead them to was not a good one if what he heard in the briefing was right, but the pay was extremely good. And he owed the boss his life, and reputation was important for a mercenary's line of work, both of their competency and loyalty.

***

"What is going on?" Joukaha asked brandishing his axe defensively as he got out of the monastery. He was greeted by the sight of two well armoured cavaliers with blood on them, either the bandits are getting more bold or stupid to attack well armoured men.

Then from another part of the forest was a pegasus rider with two more companions on horseback. Things are getting lively here, the skeins of fate may have something in store for me today.

"Hold travelers!" Joukaha commanded, "what brings you to this holy ground?"

The lead cavalier in red cloak raised his sword arm and shouted back, "We are knights errant, and we come in peace seeking a fair lady whom we serve."

Joukaha already guessed who their were but he had to be sure, "Describe her then. And perhaps she may be found under our care."

"Golden haired, fair of skin and she should have a pegasus," Reginald answered the Yracian's question. The combination was such a rare sight that the Rekamite doubt another golden haired fair skinned rider existed who could summon the right to ride a pegasus. Almost all pegasus riders are of Aesean nationality with their population of dark brown skin and flowing black hair, thus someone based on Reginald's description would certainly stand out.

Nodding, Joukaha pointed his axe at the trio that followed out of the woods not much later than Reginald and Bastian, "They with you?"

Reginald looked at the three other riders with recognisation dawning when he saw the lead rider was a Rekamite with silver hair. "Yes, they are with us."

I don't like that pause, but the injured girl did mention companions. I wonder how did they escape but nothing on them looks valuable enough apart form armour after all, thought the wary berserker. Gesturing to the monastery, Joukaha recited the lines he was taught to like a performing animal, "Enter with peace in heart and mind, praise Laynia's name and her hospitality is forever yours within these walls."

Edited May 19, 2014 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 4

Wondering what was happening outside, Gerald stopped in his healing as he made a move to the entrance but a firm hand grabbed his robes and tugged. "Wait...it might be my knights! Help me up cleric," Anissa said as she pushed herself up from the bed.

Noticing the sweat beading around her forehead as she grit her teeth to prevent herself from shouting out, Gerald gently pushed her down saying, "You need to lie down. The healing is not complete. Magical healing does not fix everything."

Sighing the fair maiden rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes while the other occupant of the room resumed applying healing magic, letting out her breath slowly as the pain wracking her body subsided slightly. She could feel the parts where her ribs no doubt had broken.

The healing through light magic merely numbed most of the pain and caused the the broken bones to reattach, bound by artificially created 'pieces' that held them in place till the bone naturally regrew and replace them. Every strained movement she made would make the brittle things crack and spread more pain across the body. Still, it was better than being healed by nature based magic. Those accelerate the natural healing process of the body but without the pain numbing side effect of light magic. Worse still the method was a slow process that took hours.

"How long will it take?" Anissa asked looking out the nearby window.

The red haired healer by Anissa's side blinked in confusion then answered, "Give me two days and you can move about. But if you want to be fit for combat, it would take about five days...more if you do anything stressful before fully recovering."

"Great. Just great," Anissa mumbled covering her face with her palm, "Fetch me some wine will you? Something to ease the rest of the pain."

Shaking his head, Gerald smirked while he resumed healing, "I'm afraid that is not possible my lady. Mother Cynthia forbid us from drinks that make us lose control." Grinning widely, he added, "A fact that sometimes makes Joukaha get into verbal battles with her."

Glancing down at his ward and noticing the tears slipping past her palm, Gerald knew she was in quite some pain despite the magic he used. Her fall had broken a few ribs and punctured some organs. it was fortunate he was close by, just in time to wrest her back from the brink of death. mending flesh was easy...but bones? Those took a long time. What did Mother Cynthia do when mending someone with a broken bone? She talked to them to distract them from the pain! "So, you're a pegasus rider right? But you don't look like an Aesean. I thought only Aesean women were allowed to learn to ride pegasi?"

"False. If you had enough coin and were not a male, you can be granted a pegasus chick to grow alongside you to ride when it matures," Anissa was glaring at Gerald with annoyed eyes, as if challenging him to continue conversing with her.

Swallowing his own spit, Gerald quietly resumed healing, forgetting about this whole conversing with patients business while Anissa wiped away the constant stream of tears flowing out of her eyes as she endured the painful recovery.

Edited May 19, 2014 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 5

Under Joukaha's watchful eye and insistence, because nobody wanted to argue with a man of his size and the large axe by his side, the visitors to the monastery washed the blood and mud off their weapons and armour before being allowed beyond the entrance.

Following the old Yracian berserker who explained seriousness of the injury inflicted upon their employer every step of the way, Wythe took note of peculiar details of the monastery. It was packed with young people. Most of them were barely adults and a few were still teenagers. Apart from the large man serving as their guide, no other adult was in sight. Some places of worship insisted on its visitors leaving their weapons behind, but the mercenary guessed that this Joukaha was confident in keeping the peace with his yet to be seen fighting prowess.

Entering the room that held his employer, Wythe did not know whether to burst out laughing or cry in pity at the sight before him. On the bed lay Anissa constantly wiping away her tears while the healer wore an awkward expression on his face...as if he wanted to disappear.

Before he could make his decision, Reginald and Bastian both step forward and knelt, a swirl of red and blue cloak fluttering about as they declared, "My lady! Forgive our incompetence!"

Struggling to rise from the bed Anissa shot Gerald a look and he immediately went to her side to prop her up. Grimacing from the pain still existent in her body, Anissa spoke with her most calm voice, trained through threats of birch, palms and silent meditation, "All is well. I live, the two of you still draw breath," surveying the rest of those who were in the room before nodding at Wythe, "and those I hired are here. Excellent, now we can set off tomorrow."

A look of alarm crossed Gerald's face as his grip on the golden haired maiden tightened, "No, you cannot travel like this! I said you need five more days of healing!"

"I can manage..." was all Anissa could say before Joukaha interjected, "Absolutely not. You have come under our care. And thus our laws. Mother Cynthia will forbid you from leaving till you are healed and I," looking at the two knights, "will prevent you from choosing to leave by force."

Feeling the need to have his say, "The foreigner is right my lady. It will be wise to postpone your travels till you are fully recovered. There will be no more monastery's for days beyond here. What if your injuries become worse due to the wear and tear of travels? I will cover for the expenses of these extra days in your care...up to five days." Wythe sometimes wondered if he was hired aspart of his mercenary band due to his more...educated background.

Bastian spoke up to add his say, "The mercenary speaks truth. My lady, it will be impossible to protect you from your own injuries. I do not fear foes I can cleave with my blade. But wounds? They are not things I can mend with my martial training."

Letting herself rest on the bed again, Anissa agreed, disappointment lacing her voice, "Very well, we shall wait here for my recovery."

Edited May 19, 2014 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 6

As night came closer, Khuzuk sat on the monastery roof surveying the waning embers of twilight, giving way to the darkness that was both a blessing and a curse. Growing up on the plains, the young Nialpian knew of how it helped and hindered both hunter and prey...and found it disgusting that his tribe would revere such an 'impartial' aspect. Night doesn't care, and only does as she pleases yet we should call her Mother who shrouds all.

Raising a large sack of cultured milk, something that strongly reminds him of home, Khuzuk took a long drink. Too sour, the timing is off, musing at the prospect of offering it to his comrades and watch their faces, the young man did not notice shadows covering his form as a pegasus swooped down to land beside him.

"It's getting very dark, should you start going down before it gets too difficult to see you footing?" Daksha asked astride her pegasus.

Khuzuk wanted to say, "Don't worry, we Nialpians are no where near as dark as you southern folk. We can still see out feet at night." But decided against it. He was not in the mood of picking a fight up here. But he did want her to go away. After working with the Aesean pegasus rider for a while, the lonely plainsman learned that she was too fond of conversation and did not understand the meaning of 'let brooding folks lie'.

"I can always spill some of my drink to highlight my steps. The moon will be full tonight anyway," Khuzuk said without looking at his companion. Raising the water skin filled with long curdled milk to Daksha, Khuzuk continued, "Here, it is against the customs of my people to leave friends thirsty in a conversation. It would be rude for a guest to not drink while speaking."

Smiling, Daksha accepted the cultured milk guilelessly. Taking a sip, her smile broadened earnestly, and to Khuzuk's alarm she drank some more before handing it back to him saying, "Ahhh, never thought I'd find something like that out here. It's a bit too sour, and could make do with some fruits in it though."

Fuck, I did not expect her to like it, Khuzuk thought. He had employed the same trick against Wythe back when Wythe insisted on getting to know their little group better. After insisting that it was important for the man to drink while idling with him, Wythe had skipped most of his questions and bade Khuzuk good night.

"They have such drinks in Aes?"

"Yes. Brought in by Nialpian exiles long ago. You'd be surprised if there's some form of food you can't find in Aes with all the people fleeing to it," the pegasus rider answered leaning forward on her mount. The creature grunted and readjusted its position.

"Tell me, is it true that there are no rules or laws in Aes?" Khuzuk asked drinking. Before he could get a reply from Daksha's pouting expression, his sharp eyes caught signs of movement far far into the forests. It was not approaching them...at least not yet, he thought.

Raising his hand to silence the pegasus rider, the archer pointed at the direction of movement. It was still now, what ever crowd was there had stopped moving as they were close to the monastery. Too close, that I could spot them.

"Daksha, I saw movement there. There, you see that bird flying? There might be a crowd down there, perhaps our friends from earlier?" Khuzuk mused aloud.

"But...why? Aren't there easier prey along the road? Maybe it's a pilgrim or weary traveler."

"Either of those two would have wandered all the way to the monastery. Why delay the march to shelter unless one has ill intentions? Maybe they have decided that two pegasi could fetch a real fortune. Anyway, go down and warn Wythe. I'll stay up here in case we do get into a fight with foolhardy bandits."

Without any further delay, Daksha and her mount flew. As Laharom was about to land, and arrow came flying out of the woods and strike the pegasus' wing. Then the bandits came charging out of the woods.

Khuzuk cursed and ducked behind one of the monastery spires before taking aim at some unfortunate victim who could not afford purchasing a helmet.

Edited January 20, 2015 by Rothene

[Rothene]

Chapter 1: Part 7

With reflexes honed from years of training, Daksha unhooked her legs from the saddle and shifted her weight as her pegasus crashed into the ground. It did not make the fall any less painful, although Laharom had absorbed most of the damage, but at least the rider's legs were not caught under a few extra pounds of pegasus meat.

Grabbing the horn from beside her mount Daksha blew loudly into it, all the while keeping the pegasus between her and the charging mob. But enemies did not come from one direction only and from her flanks she could see a smaller group of bandits charging in with blades and axes. Some of those weapons even look like military grade items. Caught in a bad spot, dark skinned Aesean urged her mount, "Come on Laharom, get up and move!"

The monastery door burst open as Joukaha's large burly form exited it quickly. He held a large wooden shield that looked suspiciously like an unhinged door meant to be discarded while his other hand had a large axe. There was a manic look in his eyes and immediately Daksha believed in all the tales she had heard about the fierce Yracians up north. Tales of their brutality, their bloodlust and even those of how Yracians would spend the morning hitting their flesh with the blunt end of their weapons to keep 'warm' and toughen their skin instead of brush their teeth.

Closing in on the nearest duo of bandits, Joukaha let loose a loud roar, for calling it a shout would not do it justice. The two bandits slowed in their charge as fear gripped their hearts while their fought the urge to cover their ears. That moment of hesitation was enough for the Yracian to close in and cleave the first man with his axe, splitting the man's skull in half. Yanking the axe out to send a shower of blood and brain onto his companion, the second man was finally overcome with fear and dropped his weapon, cradling himself before the fearsome foe.

With a snort, Joukaha smacked the bandit's temple with the butt end of his axe at full force. Whether the bandit survived that blow or not did not concern the berserker. All that mattered was his axe was not soiled by a coward's blood and that the bandit was neutralised.

All the while Daksha had watched Joukaha, awestruck by his battlecry and the swiftness with which he destroyed two opponents in an instant. Her mount however only thought the man was a beast and wanted to flee from him quickly. It tried to flap its wings but the arrow stuck in its wing proved very painful and the pegasus collapsed back to the grown and writhed. The action broke Daksha from her reverie and she turned to engage the trio of bandits closing in from the other side. Above she can hear Khuzuk cursing and arrows whizzing. The enemy archer had decided that Khuzuk was the better target, perhaps because Joukaha's shield proved too effective and they might be considering capturing the pegasus alive.

Hefting one of her javelins, Daksha hurled it at the bandits. The projectile sailed past them, narrowly hitting the bandit at the back. Ducking, the rearmost bandit glanced at the entrance of the monastery and gave a cry of alarm to her two companions in the vanguard. Heedless to her warning, the two bandits continued their charge until a silver haired individual slammed his armoured form into the two of them shield first. Before they could recover, Daksha advanced forward and stabbed one of the bandit with her javelin while Wythe yanked his sword out of the guts of another bandit. The last bandit of that group found an arrow embedded itself in her chest before a second found her eye.

Without wasting any time, Wythe grabbed Daksha and started yanking her towards the monastery while Joukaha smacked the pegasus' rear to urge it to move. Getting the message, the winged creature rushed into the building while Joukaha secured their retreat with his large shield.