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Post by Zorel on Mar 20, 2007 14:46:57 GMT -5
Ktsed gets on, makes one post, but surely an awesome one if I say so myself.
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Apr 1, 2007 15:11:54 GMT -5
If you call that awesome, then what do you call this, Zorel? (BTW Google "Zorel." Apparently you're a psychic detective somewhere, and Sorik is a mountain and maybe even an entire county >_>)
The man set the body down. He had managed to loose his path and would have to abandon the body in this dark rock formation with the hope that it would be discovered. He stepped outside of the cave and looked around. The rain was heavier than ever, and the wind had started to pick up. He fought off a chill as he stepped into the rain, almost getting blown over by the roaring wind. The wind made a sound like nothing the man had ever heard before. He started to make excuses in his mind about it being too dangerous, but he knew that he had to go now if he wanted to get to the battle. He jumped onto the nearest stone that was large enough for his purpose and looked around. The wind blew mud all over the man, and the cold rain soaked into every square inch of his body. He was certain he would catch a fatal sickness if he remained exposed to this weather for too long. He chose the direction that seemed most right, hoping his intuition would prove helpful. He started along the path. The man knew under any other circumstances he would be doing the stupidest thing possible by venturing out into a storm like this, but the desire for finding the battle overwhelmed his desire for personal safety. Just after he jumped over a particularly long gap, the man thought he heard the sound of someone landing on a rock over the din of the wind. He looked back and was relieved to see that noone was there, but it still didn’t calm him. He knew that the idea of anyone being able to follow him in a storm like this was ludicrous, and all logic pointed to him being the only man within tens of miles of the confrontation of the Nardelian and Alonovian armies, but he was still suddenly nervous. The man continued his chosen path, but increased his rate. He leapt from stone to stone, not concentrating on where he was going. He stopped for a moment to get his bearings. He had no clue where he was. At this rate he would never reach the battle before it was over. What does it even matter? He was so caught up in this thought that he almost forgot his paranoia. Almost. He heard the noise of someone jumping to a rock, and turned around. He looked just in time to see a figure just behind him start to hold up its hand. He didn’t give it chance to finish. He had his sword unsheathed and pointed towards his hooded assailant before he could finish raising his hand. The figure quickly grabbed his sword and stood in a defensive position, awaiting the man’s first attack. The man started out with a simple enough stroke to test his assailant’s strength. The figure blocked the quick horizontal stroke with ease. The assailant jabbed at the man with a surprisingly quick reaction. The man jumped to the side and got beside the assailant, but when he stabbed at him, he surprised to find his blade meet nothing but the cloak and air. He felt his assailant grab his neck and the cold touch of steel against his throat. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He was actually going to die.
END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hahsh looked around. This army was his. This battle was his, and soon too would be the two largest countries of men. If he felt the emotions of normal men, he believed he would be happy right now. The Nardelians had shrunk to not much more than a hundred, and were quickly dying. Once again a Nardelian trumpet sounded in the distance. Hahsh looked around for the bugler, but could see nothing in the weather. The Nardelians let out a huge battle cry and redoubled their combat efforts. Hahsh actually chuckled. He stood atop a tall stone that was about the height of two men and the size of a hill. He sent commanders orders with signals from the lantern next to him, not that he needed to, seeing as they could win the battle without any orders from him. Suddenly, he heard a roar that most would discount as the wind; Hahsh knew better. He looked up, not believing he had been so stupid.
The man prepared to meet his fate. At least he would die with honor, knowing that the opponent he faced was truly better than him. What better death could a man wish for? “Who are you?” his captor asked in a voice much less gruff than he expected. Suddenly he realized the significance of this. The robed figure didn’t know who he was. The man had assumed that he had been hunted down by an expert hired to kill him by one or more of his numerous enemies. He realized he had a chance to live. “I’m a simple traveler, nothing more, nothing less,” the man used his comment as a distraction to elbow his captor, who was just about his height, but was dismayed to hear the jingle of his armor making contact with chain mail, not even distracting his opponent. “A ‘simple traveler’ doesn’t have skills with the sword parallel to your’s, and he sure doesn’t attack a man asking for help,” the figure’s voice had a Nardelian accent, though he was speaking in the native tongue of the Alonovians. Suddenly it clicked in the man’s mind who this was. He chuckled. “It’s you! I thought you were dead!” he started laughing at is idiocy. He suddenly realized that there was a great chance that he was even worse off than if he were in the hands of a bandit. If the “body” he had found was a deserter, then he would kill him to protect himself. “So it was you. I owe you many thanks, then. However, I still don’t trust you enough to let you go yet. Why did you attack me?” the man was relieved, but he still wasn’t in the clear yet. “I simply, um, have many enemies, and I can’t be too careful, especially when the silhouette of one of my most dangerous nemeses appears behind me in a place like this. I thought you were attacking me. It was just a simple misunderstanding, you see,” his captor must have been convinced, because he let the man go. He turned around and saw a young man, not much older than eighteen, in Nardelian armor. He was about average height, with short light brown hair that was starting to get a little longer than was usually permitted by the military, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. His eyes did. They were an unsettling color of ethereal grey, and seemed to pierce into his very soul. His “assailant” looked at him with a look of gratitude and bowed, but was able to retain the aloof air that was about him. “Thank you, sir, for saving my life; if there is any way in which I may assist you, just let me know,” he looked up at the man. “One more request, first. May I know my savior’s name?” “My name is Veir, and I thank you for your kindness of sparing me. There is one thing I must request. There is currently a battle being fought by the Alonovians and Nardelians, as I’m sure you know, and I was wondering if you knew where it was,” Veir noticed a look of pleasant surprise spread on the soldier’s face as he stood up and looked Veir in the eye. “My destination is exactly the same, friend. I am afraid that I don’t know the exact location of it, but I know the general direction, for I remember seeing the cave I came to in on my way to the battleground. Though, if I may ask, I would prefer to make a short stop back at the cave on our way, I think I left something valuable there,” he started back the direction he had come. “If I may ask your name, I would like to recommend your promotion to one of my friends that just happens to be a Nardelian officer. Noone with swordsmanship as good as your’s deserves to be a lowly soldier,” Veir grabbed his cloak that he had used to carry the “body” in earlier, and had forgot to remove. The soldier turned around. “My name is Threave Diao.”
END OF CHAPTER TWELVE
Hahsh looked up again. Maybe he had heard wrong. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he suspected. He knew he wasn’t wrong, and it was probably even worse than he thought. He walked over to a lantern and sent his officers an order to pull the troops back into a defensive position, but none of them noticed. He promised himself that if any of them survived this battle, they would live the rest of their lives severely hampered. He roared in frustration and ran down towards his troops. “Pull back! Take a defensive position! Pull back!” it was a hopeless endeavor, though, for all of the soldiers were so caught up in ending this battle that they didn’t even notice him. He looked up to see the doom of his army, looking awkwardly spaced out due to the limited footing on the stones, pour from behind two giant mountains of dirt. Strom Lare was back, and he had brought reinforcements.
Veir sat down on the floor of the cave and started to notice how weary he really was. He stood up and started pacing to keep himself awake. “So, you didn’t desert?” he started making idle chitchat with Threave as the soldier replaced the valuable item, his dagger, back in its sheath, just to keep his brain awake. Threave seemed to hesitate. “No, I was thrown from the battle by one of the heretical Alonovian Shaman,” Veir rapidly turned towards the soldier. “Shaman!? What are you talking about?” Veir was shouting at Threave now, his face had a look of shock on it. “The Alonovians have Shaman on their side, you know, dark users of Naigrek. The heretics recruit them for their army,” Threave answered cooly, as if it were no big deal, but Veir treated it as if there were nothing more important. “How many of these Shaman did you see?” he was back to pacing, though much faster and more nervously this time. Threave thought for a second. “I guess just one...” he never had the chance to finish his sentence. “What did he look like? Was he bald?” the line of questioning seemed rather blunt and nonsensical to Threave, but Veir treated it very importantly, so he figured the only way to find out more was to go along. “Yes, I guess he was bald,” Veir stopped in his tracks. He paused a moment before turning around with a haunted look on his face. “No, it can’t be. It just can’t be...” he trailed off and seemed to forget that Threave was even there. “What are you talking about?” Threave felt it was his turn to use the phrase, for he was at a complete loss. “No matter what you may think of the Alonovians, they have just as big of a taboo over Naigrek as you Nardelians do. There is only one man alive right now that can use Naigrek. This one man is more dangerous than some of the Tethi Omid in Naigrek. He appears to have nearly limitless power and is capable of evils greater than those of the worst of men, for I would not classify him as man. “He has had so much exposure to the darkness of Naigrek that he has been transformed to something even more corrupt and evil. If you are to understand this, I must explain how an atrocity such as this thing came to be. He was born nearly three hundred years ago to a normal family in Alonov. He was easily the most gifted man in all of Alonov by the time he was twenty. He joined the military and quickly rose to an officer. He started a trading company after he quit the military. “He became immensely rich in just a few years and became a respected politician. He became friends with the emperor and was appointed as his heir, for the emperor had no children. The man, going by the name Thress Oirth at the time, started to get the idea of ruling the Alonovian Empire. He had suppressed his normal emotions long ago, for everything was numbers and analytical reasoning to him, and emotions and morales got in the way of what he knew was right, so he had no concern with such an immoral act. He decided that he couldn’t kill the emperor through any traditional method, for he would be the first suspect. He had been visited several times by messengers of the Tethi Omid, for he was a perfect target for them to corrupt. He decided to join the Tethi Omid. “Thress Oirth became a member of the Tethi Omid, not something any normal man could do. He learned the inner workings of Naigrek, and became so skilled that he surpassed many of the more powerful Tethi Omidians in just one year. He decided that his plot had to take place immediately, for the empress was with child and there would soon be a new heir to the thrown. “He killed the emperor with Naigrek, and discovered he had a taste for betrayal. He framed the Tethi Omidian known as Syarr, one of the few more powerful than him, and led the Emperials to the Tethi Omidian, who just happened to be near the capital of Alonov. The Emperials were no match for the powerful Tethi Omidian, who killed most of them. Syarr made known the truth to the captain of the Emperials who had killed their emperor and firmly planted it into his mind with a powerful form of Naigrek. The Emperialist started a campaign against Thress Oirth. “Thress suddenly found his life fall out from under him. The Tethi Omid wanted him dead, as did the Alonovians. He had no choice but to leave. He journeyed to the far side of the world where he studied the art of Naigrek for a few years with various races, but found all of them inferior to the Tethi Omid. He eventually went back to Alonov. “He found Alonov in a corrupt dictatorship lead by the Emperialist that had found out the truth from Syarr. Thress arrived just in time to see the man ousted from power by a relative of the late emperor, for the emperor’s wife had died during childbirth along with the child itself. The Emperialist was so desperate that he joined Thress, his former enemy, and though he was incapable of using Naigrek, he became the most skilled swordsman of men under Thress’s Naigrek. “The Alonovians had not forgot about Thress’s betrayal and chased him and his servant out of Alonov. They were both so corrupted by Naigrek that they were able to live without limit, for when the Tethi Omid had expelled Thress from the Tethi Omid, he had returned to a normal man. Thress took what had been his name among the Tethi Omid, Hahsh, and started many plots to try to destroy them. Though he may have a noble goal, he feels nearly as bad about men, and wishes to rule them and make them more corrupt. He apparently has wormed his way back into the Alonovian military, and is probably working on another of his plots for power to destroy the Tethi Omid.” Threave looked at the man oddly. “Do you expect me to believe this? What kind of fool do you think I am? That is nothing but a story used to frighten little children that you probably learned when you where living in Alonov.” He started to walk out of the cave, laughing at the absurdity of the tale he had just heard. Veir stood back without protest, for the Threave Diao meant nothing to him. He decided that he would simply follow the ignorant fool to the battle, and if he attempted to confront him, Veir would not be caught off guard this time. Suddenly, Threave paused. “What did you say the monster’s name was?” he turned around and faced Veir with a puzzled look on his face. “Thress Oirth, or, more commonly, Hahsh,” Veir made his reply short and tinged his tongue with acidity. He still disliked the Nardelian. “My commanding officer, Strom Lare, mentioned a man working for the Alonovian Empire known as Hahsh Oirth that was one of the greatest strategists in the nations of men. Could this, perhaps, be the man you are speaking of?” the story suddenly seemed plausible to Threave. It was, in fact, plausible. “Most likely. When Thress Oirth was in the military, he was regarded as a master strategist. I’m sure that if either this “Shaman” or “master strategist” is Hahsh, then the Nardelians are in grave trouble. I think we should return to the battle,” Veir followed Threave out into the horrendous weather.
END OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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Post by Xavier on Apr 1, 2007 19:56:36 GMT -5
Very good,
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Apr 15, 2007 13:39:35 GMT -5
Sweet. Next post I make will be more chapters. Also, my name occurs in some long formula-codes from colleges. >_>
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Apr 15, 2007 13:43:32 GMT -5
Hahsh couldn’t believe he had let this happen. Hahsh had about ten thousand soldiers and, from what he could see, the Nardelians numbered somewhere around half again that, and with the considerable advantage of surprise they would have, the Emperials were as good as dead. Hahsh should have known that the resourceful Strom Lare would have something like this up his sleeve, but he had been overconfident. His chances were over. He signaled his aide to his side. “I need you to help me. Do you think you can force our forces into a defensive position before the Nardelians get here in about two and one half minutes?” Hahsh had almost forgotten about his servant, Jeroun. He could easily best any man with a sword, and could probably defeat many of the higher races, and he had a way with commanding men in a battle. Hahsh doubted that it would do much good, but he should at least try. The man eagerly replied, “I believe that the task you have laid before me is well within the abilities that I posses thanks solely to you, milord, and would take delight in proving myself worthy to you.” His refined and distinctly Alonovian voice belonged to the powerful noble of his past life; his handsome face and long blonde hair were accented by a vicious scar going from his left temple to his right jawbone and an even more vicious heart. He was uncharacteristically tall for a man, standing a head and a half taller than most of the soldiers, and wore minimal armor, preferring the dark robes of a student of Naigrek, for he had learned to harness some of its powers. Jeroun ran to the area that would be reached by the Nardelians first, passing straight through the few Nardelians left surrounded by and distracting the Emperials. He shouted at the top of his voice, “Pull back! Take defensive positions! Ignore the Nardelians!” Miraculously, many of the officers obeyed and pulled back. As soon as the trapped Nardelians saw their chance, they broke free of the Alonovian soldiers’ grasp and ran towards the approaching Nardelian army. Jeroun heard an officer mutter an oath as he looked up and saw the Nardelians, numbering at least twice Hahsh’s estimate.
Threave felt overjoyed as he saw the edge of the Nardelian army in the worsening weather. They had traveled for hours, and had got lost many times, but had finally been able to make their way to the battle field. From the looks of it, either the position of the battle had changed or the Nardelians had reinforcements; Threave was sure it was the latter, for, even at this long range, it was obvious that there were more Nardelians now than when he had been thrown from the battle by Hahsh. Threave and Veir entered the mass and sought out Strom Lare. He was down near the front lines of the army as it faced off against the much smaller Alonovian army. The chaos was unbelievable as the Nardelian army started to gain an upper hand over the Emperials, yet the victory wouldn’t be as decisive as Strom Lare had hoped, for one of the Alonovian officers had been able to pull the Emperials back into a defensive position just before the Nardelians arrived. There were men shouting, running, crying out in pain, dying, and crying in every direction from where Strom Lare was commanding from. The deafening roar from the battle was even worse than the rain and wind. “Captain, sir, this man wishes to speak to you,” Threave stated, motioning to Veir, and started to move towards the relatively small area of engagement between the two armies. “Soldier, wait! State your name and rank,” Strom barked out in his loud, threatening voice. He suddenly seemed to recognize Threave as he turned around, “Narm? Is that you?” “No, sir, my name is Threave Diao, Avenr1; Narm was a friend of mine and in my battalion. I regret to inform that he is most likely dead, for he has been missing for several hours and noone can find him. A best case scenario would be that he is being held captive by the Emperials, but I fear his body was either missed or he is lost in the Wastelands, either having deserted or been separated from the battle for one reason or another, as I was,” Threave seemed to silently mourn the loss of his friend for a second, and then started to walk away again, only to be stopped by Strom Lare. “I am sad to hear that, for, while you do bear some resemblance to Narm, it is obvious now that you are a different person entirely. Veir, it has been quite a while, but not long enough for my tastes. What do you wish to do to hamper me now?” it was obvious that Strom disliked Veir not only from his words but also by his insidious voice. The tall, dark haired man with deep eyes and a haunted, hateful appearance seemed even more dark and fey than normal. His demeanor should have been more hopeful and focused on the battle he was winning, but Veir seemed to suck any rare optimism or hope from the Nardelian captain. Veir simply laughed. The man of about thirty and of average height and long dark brown hair had the sharp, angular features of a man of higher blood, one whose blood was tainted slightly with that of elves. Then he spoke, with his oddly Alonovian accented voice: “I believe you know that which I have come for...” His voice trailed off threateningly as he glared at the Nardelian captain.
1.Avenr- Nardelian: A soldier of medium rank, comparable to a low-ranking lieutenant. END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jeroun viewed the battle with a look of disgust on his scarred face. The Nardelians were clearly the most likely victors in this battle; Jeroun didn’t like defeat, he had only tasted it once, but it was enough to push him forward for many lives towards victory. He remembered that dreadful day, almost three hundred years ago. He had chased Thress Oirth, his current master, out of Alonov and had the late emperor’s wife assassinated. With Thress and the emperor gone, he was the most logical choice to rule the Alonovian Empire; he was the captain of a group of soldiers that responded only to the emperor, the Emperials, and he was a very famous and popular politician. The people of Alonov had different ideas. During the meeting of the Harrove, a council of the one hundred one most prominent Alonovians picked by nobles and one hundred commoners that were selected by all Alonvians that had the third most political power in Alonov, under the emperor and his nobles, and selected the next emperor if no heir deemed worthy was available, a politician from the noble sector of the Harrove known as Raekon was selected as emperor. Jeroun had the Emperials storm the building and capture Raekon. He forced the Harrove to surrender their position of power and make Jeroun, who had the noble’s support, dictator of the Alonovian Empire; all who forfeit his offer did the same with their lives. Jeroun led the Empire for five years. In many’s opinion, they were five of the best years of the Alonovian Empire, but many felt that he must be removed from the throne regardless of the state of Alonov due to the method through which he had gained the throne. There were many rebellions, much of them larger and more difficult to contain than ones that had collapsed the greatest nations of men, but Jeroun held control and Alonov felt few consequences from the nearly constant wars thanks to Jeroun’s great ability as ruler. The rebels were branded as Blind Eyes by the remaining majority of the population who claimed Jeroun’s rule better than that of any emperor, for they seemed so blinded by revenge that they couldn’t see how well the Empire was being lead. For a long time the rebellions that many rulers would have surrendered to were nothing but a minuscule distractions to Jeroun. He had no problems fighting them off while at the same time improving Alonov vastly. He found the job more enjoyable than he ever had guessed it would be. Many declared his short rule a golden age, and a word even came from it: jerouna, a very short period of excellence in a country’s government. Eventually, a rebellion within his beloved Emperials got to him. A small number of lower ranking Emperials were corrupted by the escaped Raekon. Jeroun was startled out of his thoughts by Hahsh calling his name. Jeroun walked up to an area directly behind the small area of confrontation. It was several hundred yards away from the front lines itself, but the din from the battle and weather made it impossible to be heard without shouting. Jeroun gave some orders to the occasional officer, and approached Hahsh. “Is it time yet?” he asked his master eagerly. “I believe by the time you can gather them...” Hahsh paused in the middle of his sentence to take a glance at the battle indifferently, “it will be the perfect time.” He gestured Jeroun off and turned his attention back to directing the battle.
Strom Lare menacingly peered into Veir’s eyes. He drew up to his full height, attempting to intimidate the nearly unarmored man. “I am afraid that the Nardelians shall not surrender this battle to those that own you,” he punctuated his statement by moving his hand threateningly to the hilt of his sword. “I am afraid Haeb shall be very disappointed in that fact, but I guess the Mrey Narv can gain this victory through other means if necessary, though I doubt it will be,” he gave Strom Lare a menacing grin. “I will let you know now that you do not scare me in the least. I know that anything you have up your sleeve I can easily counter and defeat. The few, the powerless, and the insane have little power and importance when compared to the many, and that has been proven time and time again, and so their goals and their ideas must be sacrificed for both the goals and ideas of the many and those of the righteous,” when Strom spoke these words, Veir seemed to loose his composure. He recoiled and his intake of breath made a sharp hiss. “You shall regret making light of the ideas of those whom you shall soon bow down to, instead of those inane heretics that now govern your dubious, infested excuse for a country inhabited by flea infested rats that are an excuse for men. Its only use is that I shall soon find great pleasure in relieving Glaur’ael of its great scourge,” Veir accentuated his statement with violent and threatening hand gestures , and then started to walk away, but turned to face Threave. “I let you win that sword battle, in case you get any ideas,” after he said this a Nardelian soldier walked through the space between Strom Lare and Veir, and when he had passed, Veir was nowhere to be seen. Threave turned to his captain, “He is of the Mrey Narv, isn’t he?” Threave realized where he recognized the man from, for he seemed familiar; Threave had seen his likeness on a poster warning of the Mrey Narv. “Yes, he is one of their messengers. It is a shame, for I believe that if he had not joined them, he would be a great man, for he comes from a great lineage. His ancestry was once emperors of the Alonovian Empire. Enough talk, we both have important duties to take care of now that that distraction is gone.”
END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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Post by Xavier on Apr 15, 2007 13:45:13 GMT -5
Wow, awsome
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Apr 15, 2007 13:51:26 GMT -5
Did you really read it that fast!?
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Post by Xavier on Apr 15, 2007 14:02:25 GMT -5
Yes Ktsed I'm a fast reader.
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Post by Xavier on Apr 16, 2007 19:55:46 GMT -5
It still owns though
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Post by Zaos Felreave on Apr 29, 2007 11:18:19 GMT -5
Wow, you are a really good writer!! I liked it so much, it is bookmarked XD
10/10~~~ Official Literature Rating XD
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Aug 5, 2007 12:56:08 GMT -5
*YES!* Just wait until you see some of the plot twists I have planned for it. It's kind of fallen by the way side, though, what with The Triumvirate and all...
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