A Story in Development

[Joshua, the Wayne]

Here I will post the chapters to the story I am making that has a title I will not tell anyone except for the few that already know. Blahblahblah stuff yez I am making a story...slowly...kinda...ish...
Do not post your comments here, post in the comments thread and you can also send me a few through private messages. Any suggestions, I would love those too! Thanks a lot and here we go!!

Prelude

A cool breeze drifted through the endless sea of dark trees, rustling the sleeping leaves and shaking all of the small ferns and grass as well as a mixture of vile smelling plants that lay on the ground. Laying under the pearly radiance of the full moon which hid behind creeping dark clouds was the woods of Ágre’bách, the dark woods that hardly any man dared enter if he valued his life.
As the flowing breeze flew through the forest, a man was running at top notch speed through all of the crooked and snagging branches. The whistling of arrows cracked here and there in a following trek. The man was encased in bits and pieces of brilliant golden armor with a tinted sheen. A grim expression stained his sweaty pale face as he darted left and right every few breaths, swiftly dodging arrows.
Most, that is.
He painfully grunted as arrows occasionally would strike him in the leg or a shoulder. The man leapt to the side as an explosion of flaming green lightning struck a dead tree to his right only a few feet away, disintegrating it ever so slowly while sparks danced furiously in the air.
The man winded through many fronds and thick thorny bushes, occasionally ducking under a tree’s branch that hovered in front of his nose, and for a few moments breath had lost their track.
Only a few, though.
An instant later an arrow, no, arrows struck him painfully in the side.
He cursed madly and reluctantly returned to his furious pace. A long while later after stopping every so often to catch a few puffs and then restarting his seemingly endless running pace, the man came to a diamond clear flowing river. He gave a sigh of relief and stuck out his hand as the water suddenly rippled like molten glass and rose out of the river, drifting behind the man. He clenched his hand then into a fist and the water spiraled into a solid crystalline wall that shielded him if for only a few moments.
He then darted across the river, ice packs with snow cresting it to hold his feet forming just before he stepped over. The snapping of wood could be heard from the striking arrows against the diamond wall.
The exit had to be only a few paces down through the mouth of the river, so the man turned as soon as he reached the opposite end and darted down the path of the flowing water.
A blasting noise suddenly rang through the air as shattering glass, or diamond in this case, could be heard. The shield’s pieces fell to the ground as a burst of lightning cracked through it directly into a clump of trees, burning them instantaneously into piles of smoldering greenish blue ashes with madly flying sparks.
Minutes passed as lightning still cracked through the air and snapping sinew could be heard with singing arrows following closely after. Much fewer got close to him this round though luckily because he held them back. As the minutes grew on and on the man’s pace slowed gradually as his breathing could be heard nearly two hundred feet away, its sound growing grimmer with the passing time.
Finally the exit was in sight. There was a small gap between two bunches of trees that showed a small village far, far into the distance. As the man slumped to the gap with a grudging noise of pain, vines suddenly winded in a strange fashion to barricade his escape.
The man’s face suddenly contorted into a horrid expression of fear as he turned around slowly to look behind him.
There was a heavily armored figure encased in deep dark crimson armor with silver edging seemingly staring at the man. It was completely engulfed in it’s armor, not an inch of itself wasn’t guarded. It bore an Ebon black cape with an unfamiliar sigil upon it and the inside portion of the leather was the same deep red as the armor. The eyes could not be seen through two small sharply shaped slits in the fully encasing helmet that seemed to stare straight into the man’s mind, as if examining a dying specimen.
Come, warrior of the golden stallion. My master requests your quintessence immediately. There isn’t any escape from these woods, only death. T’was not wise to come seeking for her. You know master is not one to be angered.
The man’s face suddenly sneered fiercely with clenched grinding white teeth as droplets of sweat fell here and there with every jerking move of the man’s face.
“So be it, Crimson Knight. Abbérróc will feast nicely this night.”
The man suddenly with a blur of movement twisted to the side, his hand resting on the handle of a sword hilt. As his cape twisted madly, he slowly drew out a shimmering golden blade that sparkled like the morning sun. It had a guard and a pommel of pure brightly shining silver that glowed as bright as the sun, a spherical glowing amber jewel resting in the pommel. Small glowing yellow runes were etched into the blade in a certain manner, shimmering like flames.
A dark laugh froze the air as the opposing red armored knight moved to a hilt as well, pulling out a glowing red blade that looked sharp as a dragon’s front tooth. Small shocks of maroon energy surged here and there upon the blade, reaching the point and sparkling off into the air. Its guard was shining ebon black as well as the pommel with a glowing silver white pearl lay cradled in ebon black metal. The handle was silver twirling metal that spun wildly into both the pommel and the blade.
T’will be a great pleasure to steal your quintessence tonight. Old friends don’t matter In the long run. Prepare thyself strongly, comrade in arms…Your death awaits you openly…
“I will see to it that it grips you strongly, then.”
HRA!
It was then that two marvelous blades shed sparks on that moonlit evening in the woods of Ágrébách

-Exus Xei Gerona Dendao Atra

Chapter 1
Preperations

It was a bright snowy morning in the small village of Ta’Dao while a soft flurry of snow drifted through the silvery white streets. Log cabins had their windows barred or guarded with many bark panels and such, whatever was available to shield their interiors from the harsh cold. Many commoners were drifting across the snowy streets around to small stock markets with few supplies including fruit, bread, many wrapped greasy hams, wheat, spices, a wide range of herbs, and brightly colored vegetables. Many leather markets also lined the streets along with a smithy here and there.
A little ways of the edge of the village was a small farm that had a wide sign nailed at the top, the runes inscribed reading “Auntie Mary’s all around farm.” It is in this farm where our tale begins. A tale of a journey across vast lands and plains, mountains and seas. A tale that would live on through the likes of the world. A tale of a young boy around the age of sixteen and how he grew to overcome obstacles no man or beast could ever imagine.
A tale that would start as young Stefan fell face first into a pile of hay, laughing as he got up and shoved Caleb in the shoulder, forcing him into an opposite pile. Stefan was quite fair in his looks. He had sheen dirty blonde hair that was as messy as the hay itself. As he glared sheepishly at Caleb with his light sky blue eyes, he began shoving the hay off of him and brushing off the small pieces that were poking him on his shirt. “What? No guts, eh?” laughed Caleb as Stefan hopped out of the pile. Caleb had maroon scraggy hair (mainly from farming)and emerald shining eyes. He was approximately an inch shorter than Stefan (it was quite hard to tell for some people). Caleb stood to his full height, his eyes only the slightest bit under Stefan’s level, and laughed when he was shoved in the shoulder by Stefan. “More than you!” replied Stefan with a mocking tone. They each exchanged hearty laughs. “Then let us test each-other’s guts, shall we?” spoke Caleb, his face sneering with yellow tinted teeth. They did this often, even though they were told not to by Stefan’s father Zodack (and in Caleb’s case, his uncle).
“So be it then! Ha!” with those small words, Stefan reached into the other hay stack and gripped the handle of a pitch fork, pulling it out and gripping it forcefully with both hands. Caleb’s smirk suddenly twisted downward and his eyes darted across the ground. Too late.
Stefan threw a heavy swing with the pitch fork, Caleb dodging an instant before. Caleb threw himself into the pile of hay and as soon as he emerged he was holding a sharp edged shovel. Stefan’s expression seemed hesitant for a moment and finally they swung hard at each other. Their farm tool weapons met with a loud CRACK and then they continued pursuing strikes, sluggish in their movements but quite strong grips with every step. The head of the shovel went spiraling into the air as Stefan caught it between the forked spikes and twisted it off, but at the same instant Caleb forced a heavy kick into Stefan squarely in the gut. Stefan keeled and then spun around, his forked spikes bending as they met the hard wood of the headless shovel. Caleb grunted and began sending quite unfamiliar blows to Stefan, but to no avail did Stefan’s guard give in. This continued for a few minutes until finally with a booming snap and blurs of color, both Stefan and Caleb found themselves scrabbling on the floor at the feet of Stefan’s father, Zodack. Zodack seemed to hover there for a second, glaring them both in the eyes and then with another swirl of movement their ‘weapons’ (in this case, bent pitchfork and headless shovels)were gone as he tossed them to the other end of the barn. Zodack spoke with a very stern voice that seemed to be a pack of explosion elixirs stuffed in a small pouch, ready for a nice boom but hushed in a sort of fashion “I have told you two not to fight in the barn, especially with tools. Now we have an overly large bent toothpick and a shovel-less shovel, if you could even call it that! Clean all the bins today as punishment. I expect them to be spotless in…fifteen minutes.”
Both Stefan and Caleb gaped at Zodack. “If I am not mistaken, your time began about ten seconds ago. Those bins aren’t enchanted by Merlin, are they?” Without a word both Caleb and Stefan jolted up and sprang out of the barn towards the stables. With a hearty laugh Zodack turned towards the exit and walked towards the pitiful excuses for farm tools. He picked them up and examined them carefully.
“They are growing quite rapidly…Maybe they will make the regal army troops…hmm…” he twirled the tools and then tossed them into the side again and with a murmur of a few curses as they hit the fence they had been working so hard on and it toppled over.
“I told them to stake that in…” he said as a pig snorted at him from the outside, Caleb madly scooping up the dung and dirty ‘stuff’ that the pigs had left behind.
“Oh, shut up.” Sneered Zodack to the pigs as he walked away.
“Five minutes!”

Stefan was picking at the objects floating around in his cabbage soup. Caleb was doing the exact same from the opposite of the cold stone table. Their cat Lazy was curled next to Zodack’s feet as he was slicing up a few bits of leather with a sharp pocket knife and sewing them into odd figures and shapes only the gods and Zodack himself knew. Caleb spoke “So what’re you ‘makin uncle?” Zodack took a few hearty moments as Stefan looked up from poking the substances in his soup to acknowledge Zodack’s answer.
“A few knife-pockets for the two of you. You’re reaching an age of my suffice.” Both Caleb and Stefan stared in awe and grinned with wide mouths showing amber teeth. Zodack’s face smiled and then showed a small hint of disgust, dissuading them to grin with their horrid teeth. “Don’t either of you pay attention to hygiene? Gods!” Both of the horrid-teethed boys laughed as they picked up their full bowls of soup, secretly pouring the contents into the slop barrel and then washing them with a little water from the buckets they had drawn in that morning. They spilled a little of it, Caleb punching Stefan in the shoulder because he thought Stefan purposely did it, then dried them with their shirts. Stefan mentioned a few words on how it would be nicer to clean them with magic and from that small comment they began to talk about the sorcerer Awizal Grendo who would be coming later that week for the warrior’s festival. Their villagers loved it whenever he stopped by for it was such a grand experience when he-or any mage for that matter- came. One of the reasons they loved the warrior’s festival wasn’t because of the celebration, it was because a mage would be there to show them the glories of tomes, spells, charms, and such. None of the villagers of course knew a single ounce of magic (except for the fake tricks most kids would play such as disappearing cards or making their cats ‘levitate’)but they knew how glorious it was to watch it being used by someone who did know. The preperations were to begin in the afternoon and both Stefan and Caleb were excited to the brimmest about having the chance to help for the first time since they were born. Caleb was brought to Zodack’s care only a few month’s after Stefan was born, but nonetheless they were always considered brothers by not only themselves, but the villagers. If you were smart, you would know never to bother one when the other was near. Caleb often asked Zodack in private of why he was brought to Zodack’s care. Were his parent’s not good enough, maybe? Zodack always answered him with a soft smile and a hint of sorrow in his voice. “They weren’t around at the moment.” Was the same answer every time, so once Caleb understood that was all he would ever get, he stopped asking. Stefan never had seen his mother. Well... At least not whenever he could remember. She died a few months after Caleb had came in, Zodack by her side all before and a few days after. Stefan and Caleb never mentioned his mother. Never. Once they did and they found themselves cleaning every last dust wyrm out of the farm until it was as clean as a king’s room. They never dared speak of it again after those three days of endless muddy and quite vile cleaning. As Caleb and Stefan were sharing their ideas of spells and enchantments for the sorcerer to perform for them whenever they could ask as he came, they were interrupted by Zodack when he spoke “You two better hurry over to the preperations area. If I’m right I was told it would start near sunset.” Both Caleb and Stefan turned to look through cracks in the wood barred windows and stared out into a snowy landscape. The sun was barely peeking above the horizon. They both yelped and darted to their tattered fur coats. As they each grabbed them and pulled them off the bar faster than one would think possible, Zodack chuckled, shaking his head as he continued working on the forming piece of still peculiar objects. Once they were swathed in their winter cloaks they dashed out through the wooden door, a laughing goodbye from Zodack blew into the cold night air.

Stefan was helping drag some barrels here and there into the wine cellar with Caleb on the opposite side, heaving with him. They conversed while dragging barrel after nosh filled barrel. Stefan was first to speak “So, what spells would Awizal perform if we asked him do you think?” Caleb answered after a few moments of focusing hard, his eyes both focused on a center as his brow furrowed immensely. “I would guess he might perform the simplest. Maybe…conversions, perhaps? I don’t really know. What do you think?” spoke Caleb as they dropped one barrel on the ground and shoved it into a corner, heading back for more. “He may do some sort of conversions. Wait…what’s a conversion?” replied Stefan. Caleb rolled his eyes and let out a sigh as they picked up another barrel. “A conversion is when you turn something into something else of either similar of completely different properties. Like if I turned your hair into grass. That would be a conversion.” Laughed Caleb while Stefan kicked him in the shin, a sheepish smirk on half of his face. He then spoke “Maybe I’ll ask him to turn you into a frog. Not much difference between the two of you, really.” Caleb laughed and then stopped. “Hey! I’ll get you for that!” retorted Caleb as Stefan cracked up. They dropped their barrel in the next available space and shoved it in alignment then continued their process of labor.
*****
“How fare the troops?” asked Zodack. They fare well enough for now. Though, they will not prevail in future battles to come, we fear. Spoke Awizal who hid his face with an ebon hood and a hooked cap strewn around his neck, resting on his back. Zodack’s face sighed grimly. “How are we to make it to the empire, then?” spoke Zodack to himself. There is always a chance that we could ask the Elemenca for help. Maybe even the other races would in their place. Remember, the Corruption is not only affecting our continent’s stature, but their’s as well. If we could perhaps reach the Levthran countryside, we may have a chance of gaining help from the dwarves until further notice. Replied Awizal. Zodack considered the thought for a moment and then nodded with a satisfying grin, raising his fingers to twiddle with his small golden beard. “Perhaps…the Elves may be of assistance. You are close friends with them, are you not?” asked Zodack. Awizal considered the thought as he lowered his head to the ground. A few moments later he raised it back up to face Zodack and replied confidentely. I think you’re right. They may be a better chance to gain a few reinforcements for the time being. Though, I am not sure if they would have their forest gates open. Their large provinces are only a few leagues from here. It would take maybe a few days to a week to reach them. They do know me quite well over all the years I have lived with them and shared with them my wisdom of tactics and noble chivalry. After I had slain one of the black riders, they dubbed me their title of Elvish. Even if they didn’t know I already am an elf. Spoke Awizal. Zodack grinned and walked to the edge of the wall, a locked cupboard gathering dust in front of him. He snapped his fingers and a small golden key appeared in his hands as he pressed it into the hole. The key remained silent for a moment and then glowed with shimmering blue light as the cupboard also glowed if only for a moment. The lock disappeared and the doors swung open, revealing a set of golden armor with silver furnishings. A trident was held, the blade pointing upwards with a horned medium helmet staring sightlessly back towards him and Awizal hanging on the tip. There was an embroidered cape and an oversized saddle hanging on the side. And in the very bottom there was a golden metal sheathe with pearly outlines staring back, the hilt of a blade poking out of the top end. The pommel held a dull amber jewel, tucked snugly in a silver hold. The handle was perfectly straight and hand length, swathed in bright golden cloth, a silver line stretching from the pommel to the very top of the guard. The guard was also silver, its furnishings spinning in a brilliant pattern of curvy regal lines. Three small amber spheres were set into it in a triangular formation, one at the bottom and one to each side farther up. The blade seemed dull even though it was a beautiful sight for the gaze to behold. Zodack reached out and grabbed two sharp pointed golden gauntlets that were set right next to it. He strapped them on and flexed his hands as life seemed to suddenly flare inside of them. Two large amber jewels, one embedded on the top of each gauntlet, glowed with gorgeous light like the sun. Zodack then reached down and gingerly picked up the scabbard, brushing its length with the palm of his hand. He finally placed a firm grip on the handle as suddenly the entire sheathed blade glowed with the same fire of life. The jewels glowed brighter than any candle, but none glowed brighter than the shimmering bright golden flat blade that Zodack pulled out slowly. It was magnificent. No other word could describe it. The blade was about three and-a-half feet long, its shimmering radiance lining up to a sharp point that was sharper than that of one of the Dragon’s Jaw mountain ranges. Awizal stepped behind Zodack, staring at the blade as well and spoke. I will grab our friends and tell them what will be occurring. Dameus, Zeth, and I will head for the Elven provinces soon. We will be expecting you in a few days. Set preperations for your youths and make sure to be there otherwise we will have to come get you ourselves. Soon it will be like old times. Soon, my friend. Spoke Awizal heartily. “What of your appearance at the festival, though? Stefan and Caleb are eager for your arrival as well as the rest of the village.” Awizal considered the statement for a few moments and then answered. I will send a decoy as my profile. If you can recall Vexin Sargath from the Dragon’s Jaw, then you should know who I’m talking about. Do not worry. Your son and nephew will not lose their excitement one ounce. Send them my regards for now, tell them you talked to me by wind whisper…wait…no, that we talked between letters. They probably do not know what that is, even. Well…Soon we ride with our blades, friend. We will be waiting. Zodack nodded and smiled as he brandished the blade, raising it above his head into the face of the moon. “Soon, you will live again, my blade. Soon enough, Abbérróc…” said Zodack softly. Awizal nodded and then bowed. By your leave. An instant later, Awizal was nowhere to be seen. Teleportation. “I will have to learn how he does that sometime…” said Zodack. He turned and walked towards the cupboard, pondering over what he would do to keep Stefan and Caleb safe and occupied over the long amount of time he would be gone. A sudden whisper that was colder than the algor snow spoke in his ear.
Ganga un Atra Felvendis Keethra Gana…
Zodack turned to look over his shoulder, but nothing was there. He hovered there for a moment and drew a rune silently in the air. A shimmering dome hovered around the area for a mere instant and then it was gone. Zodack had put up a shield to ward their home from beings other than those he knew. Zodack turned and walked around, sheathing his blade and locking the cupboard silently as he muttered a few things to himself. He picked up the pocket knives off the table that he had been working on before he secretly met Awizal in the unused room. A small turning of a handle and slamming of a door noted the arrival of Caleb and Stefan. “Finish those knife pockets yet father?” asked Stefan, Caleb quickly following with the same question only he used uncle. Zodack replied smoothly “Have you fed the animals yet? Ten minutes.” Both Stefan and Caleb groaned and ran to the table, grabbing their oil lamps and igniting the flames. As soon as the flame was lit they dashed out the door towards the stables. Zodack grinned.
“Soon.”

[Joshua, the Wayne]

Chapter 2
We Ride Anon

Stefan was putting on his finest clothes for the celebration. It would take place about half past noon. Caleb was already prepared, waiting outside the door picking at his teeth with a toothpick. He would be putting on his finest tunic woven from velvet silk (of which he heard was charmed to attract the opposite gender)with fine silver embroidery. Stefan also had a duke’s hat that his father had given him that matched it perfectly. He searched through his dresser and found his plain white pants he bought from a small market one day. Stefan pulled them on tightly and wove the belt strap through the loops, locking it once it had stretched fully. Grabbing his boots, he stuck them on and grabbed a few ring talismans. As Stefan glanced to his left, he saw his father’s silver diamond encrusted medallion that he was given to by Zodack himself. He gladly put it around his neck and grabbed his short black cape. To finalize his dressing matters he grabbed a small sheathed regal dagger and belted it with pride on his hip. He swung open the door as Caleb toppled over without it’s support and walked through. Caleb following soon after, they walked out the door and into the snowy streets towards the Dragon’s Snout Inn, the small pub-house owned by Mr. Wilthern. As they were walking, they spied a few small dots the size of a grain of dust on the horizon. “The warriors! They near the village!” shouted Caleb, both he and Stefan whipping up a conversation of how great the celebration was going to be. The warrior’s ceremony was held every year in honor of the warrior’s return and their ended hardships in the army. The king of their small province, the province of Philliman, would take all the youths at the age of seventeen and move them out to Farvorok fortress, the training grounds of the Philliman military. In honor of them, their village (most every village, actually)would hold that celebration every winter of their return. Soon after, though, they would have to head back out to the fortress. There were wondrous flame popping sticks that would fly out into the sky and explode into bits and pieces as well as small stone dragon figures that would spit flames and at times seem to come alive in a single instant. Chosen speakers would give speeches and the priest of their village, father Sebastian, would bless them with the symbol of lady Luminara, goddess of light. Song would break loose and to end the celebration, there would be a toast to their succession and all would take a mighty drink of fresh Zúlman wine except for the children. The next day, though, there was always a moment of silence called ‘the day of despair’ where those whose family member was lost would be able to mourn and pay their dearest respects in their honor. But they both forgot about the celebration once they walked through those doors. They forgot about the dots on the horizon, the flame poppers, the wine, the mourning, the blessings and the songs, the toast and the small flame spitting stone dragons. They forgot about it all when grins broadened their faces and then ran towards the one they truly were hoping to see. The great sorcerer Awizal Grendo who was only a few steps before them, smiling with a mysterious smirk and smoking a pipe that protruded rainbow colored puffs of smoke that trailed into the air, flowing into the sky and then finally reaching the unknown, the only place that could contain the pure joy that resided inside both Caleb and Stefan upon this day.
*****
Zodack was belting his golden armor. He first put on his mithril silk woven undershirt as well as his pants and then wormed into a full link of bronze chain mail. Checking that it was firmly tied, he grabbed his armor pieces and bit by bit strapped them on. After strapping his shoulder guards, his chest plate, his hip guards, his leg pieces and shoe plates, his golden gauntlets and his golden silver lined leather kilt, he belted Abbérróc and tied his shield and trident to his back. Finally strapping his long flowing amber cape and placing his horned helmet on his dirty blonde haired head, he walked outside towards the stables holding the enormous saddle, some reins, a pack full of supplies and provisions, some humongous bright yellow pieces of cloth and a large pack of feed. Once he reached the stables he spoke softly to a snow-white stallion that one would at first consider a regal owned horse. “We ride anon, Thelmiscis.” He whispered into the horses ear. He laid down all of the objects he was carrying and threw the pieces of cloth over the stallion and then strapping the saddle to her. Fastening the horse’s reigns he took out a few bits of metal fashioned for a horse and tightened them on her. Zodack tied two huge bags of supplies on her sides as well as a few weapons ready for quick draw. He climbed onto Thelmiscis’ back and let her feed on the food and water he had given her. It was especially concocted years ago when he rode her to battle last for many years to give her long life, give her more energy and speed, keep her up and at ‘em for times to come, and to enhance her senses. Zodack patted her side as she ate. When she was done he kicked her side and set her in a trot. He rode out of the farm towards a friends house in the village. A friend he told Caleb and Stefan to stay with for a little while. Zodack had told both of them that he would be going off to buy some things in the castle market to give them a good chance during the winter. The trip would take a couple weeks he told them so they wouldn’t worry of his long absence. He knocked on the friend’s house and a man answered the door. “Grand afternoon, Theodore.” Spoke Zodack to Theodore. Theodore smiled and answered “Better than ever! Stefan and Caleb will both be happy to see Samuel once he arrives with the rest of the warriors. We can hardly wait. So, are you about to leave for your marketing?” he spoke. Zodack answered calmly “Yes, in fact, I’m leaving at this moment. Send Stefan and Caleb my regards. I will be gone for quite a while. It is a far ways away from here, you know.” Theodore nodded with a smile and then asked curiously “Why all the armor and the weapons? It’s just a simple trip towards the castle market, that’s all. Do you plan to slay a dragon on the way there? Ha!” Theodore laughed and Zodack considered the question quickly. He answered slyly “You know the roads these days. There’s occasional wildebeest prowling the grounds. It’s just for protection. I still remember a little of my skill from when I was enlisted in the army. Keep a good watch on the boys. You know how they are.” Theodore nodded and then waved goodbye. “Good luck!” Zodack grinned back at him and waved. Thelmiscis then reared and finally with a clomping of hooves, Zodack rode away on the back of his stallion. He was on his way towards the Elven provinces, preparing to meet his great companions on the way there. As he rode, he began to remember them one by one. There was him, Awizal Grendo, Zeth Gurido, Dameus Exavior, BlackFang, Cat(who never revealed to him her last name. It was an ‘Elemenkish secret’ they were told.), and Ivan Asquedo. He remembered them one by one in that order. Awizal Grendo, his first friend he had made since he had enlisted in the war. Awizal had long clean pearly white hair and eyes greener than that of a perfectly crafted emerald. Awizal was quite tall and wielded two scimitars at his hips. One was slim and made of shining white steel while the other was a frozen blade wrought from Dwarven crafted ice. The steel scimitar was made for quick slicing and stab attacks where the frozen scimitar could easily freeze a foe with a mere prick. They were a deadly combination, especially when combined with his hand. He was not only a widely renowned swordfighter, but also a master mage. Born and raised around magic itself, he is a master of it’s skill. He never had told anyone his age though. Awizal would at first glance look like he was twenty or so, but it was likely he was tens of thousands of years old for reasons unknown to anyone but himself. Next was Zeth Gurido. Zeth Gurido was an assassin last they had met and spoke words. He had jet black hair that spiked out in all directions and usually shaded his face. Zeth was always clothed in an enormous red cloak that easily could cover him and one other with one sweep of his arm. Five daggers were always belted at his sides and he never took his left hand off of his short katana. Zeth’s eyes were hazel, but hardly anyone ever noticed because most all of the time they were shaded by his hair. Zeth wore hardly any armor other than shoulder guards and small clumps of chain mail. Otherwise he was completely flexible. Shady and always keeping secrets, he shares only his deepest with Dameus Exavior, his closest comrade since when he (and Dameus as well)crossed paths with him as thieves on regal streets. Dameus Exavior had amber colored hair that was almost as wild as Zeth’s. A loner, Dameus almost always told a lie. Dameus when Zodack last talked to him was a roguelord. A master of thieves and rogues that lived in the streets of a regal or high power merchant. Dameus always no matter what had two half swords belted on his waist, daggers latched in numerous areas, a quiver brimming full of short arrows at his side and a short bow tied to his side as well. A long scarf that stretched fifteen feet was tied around his neck, rings dangling on it here and there. He wore two shoulder guards, a black leather tunic, and a small length of chain mail. On his hip he had a leather pack tied and on his belt he had large assortments of things that took up the entire band, making it sag quite a bit. He had several throwing knives prepared, pouches full of remedies and herbs as well as tools and lock picks. A large bag of gold protruded from his waist and he always had a large sack in his right hand prepared for storing stolen items in whenever necessary. There were knives, wrenches, lock picks, parchments, scrolls, trinkets, jewels, scabbards, smoke grenades, stench grenades, poison vials, empty flasks, bundles of enchanted rope, a few wine skins, a few cloths, needles, a spool of razor string, a whip, and an assortment of elixirs including frost elixirs, healing elixirs, curing elixirs, poison elixirs, vulneraries, provisionary elixirs, and such. His eyes, though, were what took away his appearance the most. They were a dark glaring amber, his pupils slits. He never told a soul (other than Zeth) why. He as well had a few secrets that only he would share with his greatest companion Zeth. Next there was BlackFang, a lady druid who was finest in her class. Blackfang had long grey hair tied up into a small knot at the very end. Her eyes were a grayish silver and her teeth were quite sharp. Her face, in fact, was sharp. Her nose was pointed in a slight angle, her ears were long and pointed at the very tip, her chin pointed downwards and her eyes were even at angles, the ends as fierce as daggers. She always had a mischievous look on her face that showed not even a hint of fear. Her weapons were metal claws. Four very sharp crimson daggers that were curved at the end were her ‘claws’. All held in place by her leather gauntlets which held them very tight and in swift coordinance with her hands. But, she never really liked fighting in melee combat. Her favorite style was turning into a moonclan wolf, the strongest and most majestic species of wolf in the entire continent. In other instances she would change into a dragon or into a warro. Depending on her fighting conditions, she changed into an animal she believed suiting for the job. If she was in the air falling towards the ground she would transmutate into a flying animal, occasionally a phoenix or a griffin. Her main color of clothing was black and green. Black chain mail filled leather cloaking every inch up to her shoulders and down to her knees. The rest was green clothing and a large green cape that covered her. Her greatest friend was Cat. The powerful Elemenkish sorceress. Her intelligence was her most useful resource in battle. With a flick of her finger or a swish with her staff, she could send twenty men flying in the same direction for hours, days, even months on end. Cat, though, was a mounted sorceress. She rode her light brown horse named Count. He was battle trained and specially bred for the means of war. Thanks to the Elemenca, of course. Cat had a velvet cloak with white trimming on her at all times. She had a velvet cape, velvet boots, a velvet skirt, a velvet hood, purple amber encrusted into silver, white undergarments, a white underhood, and a velvet cape that was white on the bottom. On her forehead was a circlet that showed her mastery of magic. Cat’s hair was bright golden brown and curled. Her eyes were a deep sea of forest green and she was quite frankly attuned to the wind element. She had a short sword belted on her left waist and a silver wand in one hand, a silver headed wooden staff in the other. She wasn’t as mischievous as BlackFang, but close enough. Her and Awizal were linked in ways of magic as they were the best mages in the entire group. Last, but obviously not least was Ivan Asquedo. Ivan had light blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was a warrior in truest of heart. He wielded two blades (each in one hand at all times) and had a small hand shield tied to his back. He had quite a bit more armor than the others but still a fair amount and he had a long bow strapped to his waist, a quiver filled with long arrows also tied to his waist. Two daggers were belted on opposite sides and a few throwing knives as well were tied. He had his arms protected, his back protected, his chest protected, his neck protected, his legs protected, nearly everything was of course protected. He had a full helmet but didn’t wear it that much as he felt them to be a burden. He was a friend with the entire group, really. He was usually getting picked on by Cat or BlackFang but was great friends with Awizal, Zeth, Dameus, and Zodack. His armor was all silver with a bit of gold lining the edges. Nothing too regal. Zodack remembered all of his great companions as he rode towards the provinces on the back of Thelmiscis

It had been quite a few hours since Zodack had left. He would be nearing their campsite soon. He realized far, far out to his west there were some figures. The warriors, he was sure of it. The ceremony would begin in only a matter of hours back at Ta’Dao. Zodack sang himself a merry tune as he rode that had to do with pineapples and coconuts falling on an old duke’s head. Zodack turned his head to the west a few minutes after to take a good look at the warriors. Maybe he could see Samuel in the large mass. Zodack peered with sharp eyes around the area but suddenly loosened as his face turned pale.
“Hellfire!” Zodack swore a fountain of curses and ended with a disdainful vow. He reared Thelmiscis and kicked her side, digging in his heels. There were no warriors in that humongous mass. Far beyond him on a steady pace towards Ta’Dao village was an army of leiva orcs. But that wasn’t why he strode towards them. leiva orcs were slow and dumb. Take a human, give him inhuman strength and a stone club, put a cloth around his waist and a mass of hair on his head that grew down to his shoulders, made him a lot huskier and bigger and take away their brain. That was all they were. What struck him with anger and rage was the sight of five red cloaks. Red cloaks. Of all the things the gods had to make, they had to make red cloaks. To put it quite simply, they were humans that sold their souls to Vexxus. They lost their true body mass and their own free will. A whipping red cloak—or anything red for that matter—was what they wore. They had claws. Very sharp claws that they licked and gnawed at time and time again to sharpen them until they made a spike from the Dragon’s Jaw look like a dull toothpick. Red cloaks were not only revered for their claws, though. It was their abilities that made others quiver with haunting nightmares. If a red cloak cut you, you would die in three days. If they bit you, you would die in one. There was no cure for the wounds, and not a soul would bother to try for if you were touched and you died, no matter what you will become one of them. The only color a red cloak sees is red. They don’t even necessarily see. They sense with smell. Red cloaks have the strangest ability to smell fear. They can smell someone having a nightmare ten leagues away. They can smell it when someone died ten days away. And if they smelled fear, if they smelled a hint of despair…they would come after you. One thing revered about a red cloak is that they never give up. It is now rumored that only seven red cloaks remain. They are all under the orders of the emperor. Emperor Vallius who rules over the Vesterith provinces of which none dared to enter unless they didn’t value their lives. Vallius was beginning to spread his dominion slowly across their continent of Balminia, He was what some (if they dared)called ‘the corruption’. Why would he send the red cloaks after their village? Why?! There was no conceivable understanding of that concept, but it was true. That was too obvious as Zodack, now only a mile away, rode at his fastest pace his stallion could muster. “Curse those foul monsters! Those foul beasts!” Zodack’s voice grew louder and louder with every passing moment that he drew closer. With a mighty draw, he ripped out one of his blades and readied his shield. Closer. So much closer, now. They were only three hundred yards away. They noticed him now, some of the levia orcs nocking their bows with long shafted arrows. The red cloaks pursued their levitatious pace towards the village which was now in perfect sight. Only a few miles away did it sleep. Releasing his mightiest war cry, Zodack charged into combat. Arrows were released as he raised his hand, snapping them all like twigs as he thrust three levia orcs with three swift blows. The surrounding orcs threw up their stone clubs and with powerful crushing noises swung at their target, each finding the wrong place in an instant. Zodack slashed one’s neck open with his blade, circling it around in a circle and slashing three others in addition. He parried a blow from a surprised—and now dead—orc. Thelmiscis reared while Zodack stabbed another orc in the forehead, quickly whipping around to slash two others in the breast. They all collapsed with bloody faces and chests as he hacked at three more, switching from one to the other in a common fashion. One by one, no matter how massive and muscular, orc after orc plunged hard into the ground, never to raise their heads again. Minutes passed by as heads toppled to the ground and bulging bloody bulks met it just the same. Turning his head to his left, he saw a small flash of red. One of the red cloaks had come after him. Cursing, Zodack cut down a few more orcs with the same furiocity. He then sheathed his blade and laid his shield on Thelmiscis’ rump, reaching towards his back and undoing the latch that held his trident in place. Pulling it off, he moved his free hand to his hip, clutching at a golden sword handle. He savored the moment and then brandished the sleeping bright golden blade within, raising it above his head. Zodack muttered something and pointed the blade towards a large group of the orcs that were rushing towards him. An instant following, bright beams of light lanced forwards towards them—disintegrating them in mere moments. The other orcs gaped at this strange power he wielded and let out a squeal of fear, some dropping their weapons and running away wildly. Others stood still and readied small wooden round shields in front of them, expecting it to protect them from the powerful light. Compared to the ones who fled, they were now the most ignorant orcs there had ever been. Zodack laughed and then rode Thelmiscis over to another large pack, slicing through them with the ease of a knife through a block of butter. After passing through enormous clumps of these brave orcs that charged after him, dicing them each into handfuls, Zodack was beginning to feel a small pinch of fatigue. Ignoring it, he didn’t slower his furious pace of slashing one levia orc after another. He had taken about a fifth out, leaving still an enormous amount of orcs left, all of which were surrounding him, ready for battle. Some continued their charge towards Ta’Dao, but hardly any. It would be a few hours or so until they ever reached its fences. Until then, he would take out the large majority threatening the very village where his youths resided as well as some of his friends. He couldn’t imagine the fate that would befall the town if-. Zodack suddenly grimaced in pain as he realized he was slashed in the arm by a large scimitar. He growled and with inhuman speed slashed the orc in half, blood spurting on him and the living orcs as well. Minutes flew by as Zodack waited to see the appearance of a red cloak. He knew there had to be one near him. Where would that flash of red have come from anyway? Readying his sword, Zodack stabbed a few orcs with his trident. Now slathered with velvet orc blood, Zodack thrust the trident in orc breast after orc breast. Zodack then twirled the trident above his head and grabbed it in both hands, his sword aligned perfectly with the handle. With it held in that position, Zodack set Thelmiscis into a circling dash, making her ride around and around the small groupings of orcs. Each orc that was on one of his sides he pierced their head with either the front prongs or the small sharp blade at the end depending on which side they were on. This was not only easy but effective as well. This way he could kill orc after orc in a quick pace. He stabbed a few orcs to his left and then twirled to his right, stabbing them quickly in the faces before then let down their mighty clubs on him and Thelmiscis. After he slaughtered numerous quantities of levius orcs, he saw another flash of red only a few feet away. Thelmiscis reared on her back hooves and let out a bellow, Zodack stabbing a few more orcs and quickly readying his sword again.
[/i]Hsss! Hss! Hss![/i] Zodack whipped around to look behind him, a red cloak gliding over air only mere feet from Thelmiscis’ haunches. He let out a curse and barked
“Ϊgnίs Lüsrá!” spoke Zodack with a deep bellow. The red cloak was smothered in a blanket of glowing white light, screeching as it spun wildly. Zodack used this moment to try and slay it as his blade rose above it. With a mighty slash, Zodack hacked at the red cloak with all his power. The screeching stopped for a few moments. A few moments, that is. A bony blue flaming hand grabbed the glowing blade followed by another flaming blue hand. From out of the blanket of light, a red hood with no face to bear rose out. It let out a howl that would deafen a man, Zodack nimbly closing his ears though the howl still rang. Zodack’s face turned ghost white. That was it’s call for help. The red cloak finished its howl and flew up the blade towards Zodack, claws outstretched and ready to slice his veins open. Zodack as quick as possible moved to hug Thelmiscis’ neck, hardly avoiding the sharp dagger-like claws. It was then that he remembered—he was still in an orc battle. Turning to his left he saw that ten ocs had their arrows drawn and ready, pointing straight at him. Zodack yelped and muttered a few curses as the snaps of sinew could be heard. A few moments passed. Where were the arrows? Zodack looked in front of him to see a blur of color wildly dashing from orc to orc. “BlackFang?” Zodack exclaimed. Good. Maybe you humans actually do have exceptional memory. Zodack bellowed a laugh. It definitely was BlackFang. He then realized a light bubble that encircled him. It was barely noticeable, but the faint bright circular lines that encased him and his stallion was definitely a ward. “Cat! Nice to see you again as well!” Zodack turned to his right noticing Cat twiddling her fingers and laughing at the dumbfounded orcs that were now twirling in the air. “We couldn’t exactly help it. You needed help, always taking on legions full of beasts. You need to wipe the dust that’s been gathering on your skill. I must say, I remember you being much faster.” Zodack grinned and grabbed his trident, charging towards the red cloak. It hissed and glided towards him, claws outstre-…Too late.

[Joshua, the Wayne]

The red cloak screeched, growing fainter and fainter until it was a mere whisper. Finally it fell to the ground, steaming red smoke trailing from it. “What? Have you forgotten me already?! Ha! You haven’t changed much, Zodack.” Zodack laughed at the sight of sneaky Dameus. Of course, Dameus was at the same time reading a book. “You love those things too much, Dameus.” Dameus turned into a blur and five orcs fell face first into the ground, clean slash marks beginning to bleed along their necks. Zodack turned to his right and noticed Dameus reading his book, twiddling with his bloody dagger in the other hand. Cat then dismissed the orcs into the air as they toppled towards the ground into bloody spatters. “Oh, what? Forgotten about me, have you?” Cat flicked her finger and spun her horse Count around, charging him towards another group of orcs and one red cloak. BlackFang followed shortly after in her wolf morph or course. Zeth was nowhere to be seen. Zodack twirled his lance and charged after a small group of orcs and then noticed Awizal slashing them one after another and at the same time staring at a scroll on the ground. Glad you made it, Zodack. We’ve been waiting quite a while for you.[ “I could hardly wait to see you all again. It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Awizal nodded. Zodack laughed and then turned behind him. He couldn’t see any orcs he could go after at the moment. He spoke “Dameus!” Dameus in an instant was leaning on Thelmiscis, of course reading a book “You asked for me, Zodack?” Zodack jumped in surprise, still getting used to old times, and answered. “Do you by chance know where Zeth is?” Dameus nodded. “Last I spoke with him, we were thieving in the imperial market. Awizal came and asked for us both to regroup for some duties and I gladly came, but Zeth said he had a few matters of business to attend to.” Dameus spoke, glancing up from his book and peering over his glasses. That’s him alright. Spoke BlackFang. Cat followed soon after “He’d better not be killing innocent people again. Remember, he is a renowned assassin. People know his name across the continent. I hope you weren’t helping him with those deeds, Dameus. You know how BlackFang and I hate it when you two have your ‘fun’.” BlackFang howled in agreement, baring her teeth for a few seconds and facing him before gnawing up a few more orcs. Awizal laughed and sliced a few more orcs up, stepping to the side while they threw down their enormous stone clubs. “What about Ivan? Is he not here at the moment?” asked Zodack. Awizal paused, stabbing an orc and then answering. He took up the place of general at Fervarok fortress. Ivan told me that he couldn’t give up his place at the moment, but to send his regards that whenever his occupation loosens its grip, he will meet up with us again. Remember, Ivan loves nothing more than pure battling itself. He will probably be there for quite a while. I just cannot imagine why he hasn’t just joined us. He knows that the army has the most pitiful battles. I guess he’s just missing out on the fun. Lucky us, eh? Zodack nodded and asked the others if he could have a group of orcs to slay all to himself. Each one laughed and answered with finalization “Yes” Zodack laughed in turn and rode to a group while the others talked amongst themselves. Dameus commented to Awizal “He still hasn’t lost his fuel after all these years, ‘as he?” Awizal chuckled under his breath and then they each went back to killing off orcs. After almost every orc was killed off, leaving a hill of their corpses, the group rejoined and they all conversed about what they each had done over the years. Beginning their journey towards the Elven provinces and proud with their easy victory, they traveled a few leagues. Zodack finally spoke when he thought they had gotten to a good stopping point just as the sun’s last rays diminished into nothing and they set up camp. Yet when Zodack’s head rested on Thelmiscis’ back, he had a few rough dreams. He kept thinking there was something he overlooked. And it all had to do with the color red.

*****
Stefan was twiddling his thumbs across from Caleb, a half empty bottle of nosh in front of each of the two giddy boys. The warriors hadn’t arrived yet. The sun was already setting. Mr. Wilthern, the pub owner, stood up on his counter to make an announcement. “All hear! The warriors should arrive in a quarter before sundown! Theodore reports their sightings only a few miles away! Ready your greetings, ha!” life suddenly sprang across the room full of villagers and voices shouted in praise of their return. People raised their glasses about their heads and let out ringing cheers for their safe atonement. Stefan and Caleb hardly contained the bubbling joy that frothed within them. Awizal had shown them spectacular spells that day. He was sitting only a few chairs down the table, smoking on his long pipe and humming a merry tune. He had shown them disappearing acts with stones, he had shown them how he could make a flying bird out of grass. And as Caleb predicted, he even showed them conversions. Awizal had turned a patch of mushrooms into beautiful patches of flowers of which the girls all gathered around and plucked. He even turned a frog into a dog for the boys. And one of the most glorious spells that the youths had seen was a blue flame that Awizal snapped from his fingers. Blue flame…how mysterious it was. It was majestically elegant and gorgeous. Each took sips of their nosh waiting for the arrival of the warriors. Who knew what Awizal would perform then. It made both Stefan and Caleb jumpy and joyful at the thought. Minutes passed by, both the boys knew every second was closer to their arrival. More minutes passed. A few more. In an instant, all of the cheerful laughter and toasts that rang around the room halted as a scream from a lady that pierced their ears sounded from outside the pub. Both Stefan and Caleb froze. In fact, everyone was frozen. The entire crowd then burst into joy. “The warriors! They’re here at last!!” It rang around the room. And then it all began to hush. There was crying heard outside. The door rattled in the wind, leaving an eerie feeling to reside with the crowd. Stefan and Caleb both felt chills freeze their spines and tickle their noses with algor. The lamps that illuminated the entire pub suddenly doused, leaving them all in inky blackness other than the pearl moonlight that drifted through the door’s window. Awizal stood, the smoke drifting from his pipe shimmering with magical blues and greens, pinks and purples. Awizal slowly walked towards the door. There was a thud that could be heard outside and then finally a moan which faded into nothing. A sudden flash of black shifted in the path of the moonlight. Another scream was heard, dying out suddenly into a soft cry. Another thud. Everyone knew this wasn’t normal. Something was terribly wrong. Slowly, almost as if a creeping insect, a dark point drifted across the window of the door. More dark points followed from under it, forming a bony hand with long daggers as fingernails that were half of a foot long. They moved with an eerie glow, almost as if enticing someone to walk up to the window and peer through it. It turned and clutched slowly at nothing and then opened with a quick crack. Turning towards the glass, it laid each fingertip on the window with a soft click. Awizal moved slowly towards the door, halting a few feet in front of it. The hand was frozen for a few seconds and then finally everyone grimaced, their hands reaching for their ears as the nails pressed and slowly scratched the glass. The glass finally shattered and wind blew into the room. The wind was freezing. They all shivered while it breezed through them as if they were mere twigs. Stefan stood up, shivering like a branch blowing in the wind. Caleb also stood up, his face pale as the moon. One by one, each of the people within the pub stood up. They could hear some sort of noise outside. A noise that sounded like someone gulping down water after being parched for several days on end. The door began to thud in a motion like something struggling to open it. It shuddered furiously for several minutes, leaving all of the people in curious fear. But then, in an instant, it halted. It didn’t move for a few moments, but that wasn’t what made everyone gasp silently and quake with sudden urge to run out the opposite end and leave the continent altogether as silently a dark blood red hooded figure rose in front of the window, inky darkness covering where its face would have been. Caleb and Stefan each backed up to the wall as the figure screeched horridly, a grim sound stirring the air with a disdainful hellish tone, leaving everyone grimace in what felt like death’s cold embrace. The hooded figure just stood still, not moving an inch. Awizal spoke from the side of his mouth loud enough for people to hear, but soft enough not to provoke anything from whatever lay beyond the door. “Everyone, grab your chairs. On the count of three, you will all charge at the door as I cast a spell that will leave whatever that... thing is in a daze for only a few brief moments. Ready yourselves. On the count of three…” without hesitation, everyone grabbed the chairs near them. Caleb and Stefan stood close together, hoping to be ready for whatever was to come. Softly, as Awizal spoke to the entire group, Caleb and Stefan spoke what they thought would be their last words to eachother. “What do you think is going to happen?” Caleb asked Stefan. Stefan gently shook his head and answered in a mere whisper “I wish I knew…What…what do you think that thing is?” Caleb considered it as he shivered. “I…I think…it might be a black rider…or…some sort of spirit watcher. I can’t remember Zodack’s stories to well…now he tells them to the smaller children…a…a red garb? Red coat?...Red cloak. That’s it. If I remember right they-“ “Three!” Everyone in that room other than Caleb, Stefan, and Awizal at that moment dashed towards the door. Awizal motioned and spoke a spell too fast for both of the youths to understand. The red cloak hissed violently and glided towards man after man, biting their necks and ripping them into shreds. It was then they all noticed that there wasn’t just one—there was three. Three red cloaks. Corpses stained with blood and grim faces fell one after another onto the cold soil. There was still a massive bulk of people, though, and so the majority overwhelmed the red cloaks. Some of the men had grabbed small daggers and sharp pointy objects that could serve well enough as a weapon to hold everyone off—but none were as powerful as Awizal Grendo. With a wave of his hand and a raging puff from his pipe, the red cloaks were coated with light. Caleb and Stefan who were still in the pub watched horrifically at the mad chaos commencing in the center of their beloved village. Awizal spoke mad curses and spells not a soul could understand, but they seemed to work. The red cloaks were each gliding about, circling here and there, biting people and slicing them. Screeches rang loose every so often. Cries of people stained the very air with an aroma of coldest death. Awizal cast another spell and the red cloaks were sent sprawling on the ground. Even though the men stabbed them several times through the heart, not once did they cry with a sound of hopeful death. Awizal then motioned with his hand and raised his hand. As if from nowhere, a blinding light encircled the premises, indulging the village in bright warm light. The red cloaks hissed as they were lying sprawled on the ground while beams of luster shot from the sky. Bolt after bolt hit the red cloaks, stunning them briefly. Awizal then pulled out a pocket wand and with what looked like all his might imprison them in a shimmering, yet fading golden cage of aura. Awizal gave a heave and fell onto Stefan and Caleb’s shoulders. “Both of you, listen and listen well. This night will not end pretty. You must pack whatever you can and flee. That is what your father would want. Heed what I say, the two of ye, head northeast. Do not head northwest.” Awizal paused and coughed harshly. Caleb answered, finding that tears were in his eyes. “Awizal! You can’t die! You have to help the village! Help us, Awizal!” Stefan was silent. His expression was empty and a hint of sorrow shadowed his face. Awizal wheezed a few breaths and then answered “I am not…who you think I am…You two…of all…must make it,” He paused once again for a few hazy coughs “Make sure…that you make it…it all depends on you…two…” Stefan’s eyes crinkled, expelling crystalline tears, and then he looked to painfully stare at Awizal’s face. “What do you mean? What does anything have to do with us? Awizal! You have lost your mind!...Awizal?” Awizal’s eyes blinked in and out. In and out. He took a few hazy breaths and spoke “Go to the woods of Agrébách…That should be…your destination…I have used too much of my power…I cannot support it any longer…Stefan…Caleb…It all rests with…” Each of the boys eagerly awaited the last few words of Awizal’s sentence. “Awizal…Awizal!...What…You have to help us…The village needs you…Awizal…” Caleb held his bony hand. A few moments passed and finally, that bony hand sagged in Caleb’s grasp. Silently, they cried. That was, until, they heard another screech. One of the red cloaks was already beginning to hover over the ground. They saw only a few people running across streets, grabbing children, grabbing livestock, grabbing whatever they could…and fleeing. They each, Stefan and Caleb, stood up. They stared at the red cloaks with hate and fear. They each knew that with the diversion of Awizal and the other defenders, they could grab whatever possible and flee. But…flee to where? The woods that Awizal had said? They had no other choice. Both knew for sure the village would be destroyed. That thought brought them both to another wave of silent tears. “What are we going to do? What will become of us!” Stefan asked Caleb as they ran towards their house. “I do not know. We can only hope for the best and follow what Awizal said. The woods of Agrébách is where we must travel.” Caleb answered. Stefan acknowledged his answer and with utter silence they each dashed towards their small house. Minutes later, they reached it. The red cloaks were prowling again. Both Caleb and Stefan bolted here and there, grabbing items they thought would be of use and things to store them all in. They grabbed little bits of food, clothing, some treasured items, a pillow, and their daggers. In the midst of their quickened packing, they heard a screech outside and an explosion. They each made sure they had everything possible they could get and then dashed outside to find the village engulfed in a raging inferno. Gasping in terror and pain, they each bolted for the stables. A flash of red is what provoked them to do so. They saw a small family running away. It had a mother and two small children. All they had was a few bags and their dog. All too sad as a red cloak dawned upon them, leaving dark nightmares branded in the minds of both of the boys. Faster than they ever had, the boys ran into the barn, releasing every single animal and grabbing a few eggs from the chickens, storing them in a wooden box. Both then darted towards the stables and releasing many of the horses and mounting their two best and most beloved ones, Caleb who mounted Garzol and Stefan who mounted Elasia. Both their most prized horses other than their father’s own horse, Thermisces, of which they did not see. Their father must have taken her, they each thought. While they were strapping their belongings then conversed with haste. Stefan spoke first “What did Awizal mean by ‘it all depends on the two of you’?” Caleb answered quickly, the horses beginning to rear and squeal at the sight of the raging flames “I have no idea. All we can do is follow what he told us. But…Why are we to go to these woods? And.. where are they? If only Awizal didn’t use too much of his strength to help us all, maybe then... maybe then we might have known.” Stefan cursed madly “What about when father gets back? What will he do when he finds his village destroyed and his two youths missing? In fact, how will we survive? We’ve never seen a map!” Caleb buckled a few sacks onto Garzol’s saddle “I have. I bought one at a market one day. I have no idea of our exact position, but I’m sure we can find it. And to tell the truth…I don’t think Zodack left for the market. Awizal said he wasn’t who we thought he was, right? If he spoke about father in that manner…He sounded as if he knew him. To add on to that, if father knew Awizal…Why would he leave on the very day he would be coming? And the cupboard…The one we aren’t allowed to touch, remember? As we were rushing in and out, I found it open. There were dusty traces inside that were in the shapes of armor. Thelmiscis, as you know, is Zodack’s prized horse. But if Zodack were to leave, wouldn’t he not use his finest horse and possibly use one of the others? It would be a waste of the horse. I think that Zodack was planning on something else. If you remember, he once was enlisted in the army if I am not mistaken. Then, why would those traces of armor that I saw only a few minutes ago…be gone? I may be wrong, but I think there is some sort of mystery in this all, and what the supposed Awizal said that has to do with us isn’t something I think we should give up on, do you?” Stefan, after taking all of this in, was gaping at Caleb. He was always smart, but this hardly made any true sense. Zodack…he wouldn’t do something like that. What purpose would it be? Stefan nodded, his face pale, and turned back to strapping the last few of his items on Elasia, as did Caleb on Garzol. It all ended in a second, though, as a hissing noise pierced above the cackling flames that danced outside of the barn now. As they turned their heads with pale fear, they saw a lump of red keeled over on the ground, staring at the hay. Slowly, it turned its hood to face them. Without word, Caleb and Stefan mounted Garzol and Elasia and dug their heels in their sides. “Hurry!” Stefan screamed at Caleb and as the red cloak with a burst of motion flew towards them, their horses reared and they jolted away into the night. The red cloak pursued them, only a few breaths behind. Both Stefan and Caleb were horrified. Any second…they could be tainted. Fleeing for their lives, they both prayed that Luminara would smile upon them with a blessing. Every second that passed, their hopes grew faint. The red cloak, now only a few feet away from their horses rumps, screeched its horrid howl. “Stefan,” Caleb panted, “if we make it…Make sure that I never see the color red again…” Stefan grimly laughed and answered Caleb “If we make it, then su-“ Stefan turned his head to see the red cloak, claws outstretched, leaping at his head. He screamed and drew one of his daggers, throwing it at the red cloak. Terror struck Caleb’s face as he watched Stefan try to fight off the being. Thinking as fast as he could, Caleb also took out one of his knives and threw it at the cloak. It hit it square in the hood, which they both thought was a good sign as it hissed, but to no avail…it fell right out. Not a drop of blood. Stefan, the red cloak now swiping at him inches away, yelled at Caleb “Do something! Hurry!!” Caleb clutched Garzol’s reigns and turned his head, thinking as fast as he could about how to dispose of a red cloak. “Um…’Against Crimson robes if you dare not depart, it helps you a lot if they’re stabbed through the heart. Nor Iron nor Steel nor bronze will pierce, but silver is known by them to be fierce!’, Stefan, stab them through the heart with something silver!” Stefan, now digging himself as close to Elasia’s neck as possible, began to look through his bag and look over his things. There were his few daggers, all of which were made of iron…There was a few candles, his steel lamp, a few gold coins, some rope, a portrait of him, Caleb, and his father, a few small provisions, his medallion, a pair of gloves…Stefan stared at the medallion. It, he knew, was made of silver. But…it was his father’s heirloom. And yet…Stefan, now almost entirely absorbed in his own thoughts even though the red cloak gained on him, thought that he saw a faint glow in the diamond. Small runes shimmered on it like water under the rising sun. “How…strange…” Stefan spoke, mesmerized. “Stefan!” Stefan came to awareness. The red cloak had grasped his shoulder and was inching towards him. Stefan yelped and picked up the medallion, its golden chain shimmering in the inky darkness. He spun it around his head and finally tried whacking the red cloak. It did nothing but bump it on the hood. Stefan cursed and then had an idea, grabbing his dagger. He slipped the medallion onto it, making sure the flat of it matched with the flat of the blade. It shimmered for a moment and Stefan merely stared until he found shining ebon teeth half of a hairs length in front of his nose. Stefan was determined to kill this being now. He took the medallion strung dagger and plunged it through the chest of the red cloak. Yet, as he struck it through the heart, he suddenly felt pain sear up his shoulders. He looked down on his shoulders and found he had been slashed by the cloak’s shining white claws. They burned more than any cut or scrape he had ever received in all his years. It was an icy explosion up his arms, but it was all over once the red cloak toppled off of him into the dirt, moaning a cry of severe pain. Stefan now slumped over Elasia’s neck, pain gripping his shoulders. Caleb spoke, but Stefan couldn’t hear him. Caleb finally roped Garzol and Elasia together, throwing his own cape over Stefan to keep him warm for their journey. Hours later Stefan groggily woke, wincing at the pain in his wound. Caleb spoke, but Stefan still couldn’t understand and just shook his head. He noticed Caleb was silently crying. Probably over the fact that their home, their only home, was now ashes. Both realizing that now the two of them were no longer the farmers they once were, the two boys that actually had a home, they set Garzol and Elasia on a trot. Neither of them spoke. Each of their heads was staring at the head hairs of the horses. Caleb broke the silence, Stefan could make out what he said by a small amount. “What now? How do we find which direction is northeast? We don’t have a compass…” Stefan looked into the night sky and examined the blinking stars. Caleb stared at him like he was mad when Stefan answered in a slurred tone that Caleb had to lean in to hear “That way.”
“You expect me to trust your direction? Your direction?” Stefan winced back at him coldly “You think I believe it anymore than you do? It’s somewhere, isn’t it? We can at least hope. We’ve probably got those two other red cloaks on our trail this very moment. Are we just going to go in this random direction and possibly end up in circles? Your decision, but I’m going this way.” Stefan turned Elasia towards that direction and Caleb without any other choice because their horses were tied together finally gave in with a sigh and followed. “Fine, your choice. But it’s your head who faces the penalty in the end if there is one. Not mine. Got that?”
“Got it.”
“Good.”
They silently traveled for hours on end in Stefan’s direction. Stefan without a word wrapped his wounds, but they kept bleeding. He tried speaking to Caleb, but his words were slurred and sounded like an orc. Caleb shook his head to dispel Stefan’s words and motioned for him to go to sleep. But as Caleb looked into his eyes, his expression faltered for a moment. Stefan couldn’t grasp every one of his words, but he did catch a few. “Stefan…your eyes…red…”
*****

[Joshua, the Wayne]

Chapter 3
Seeing Red

Zodack rose from his sleep. He had quite a few dreams through the night about pineapples and coconuts bopping a duke on the head, a few butterflies getting eaten by a frog, his great friend dragon (a girl)who lived in the Wyvern Tooth Ridge, a few dwarven frost cocktails, and a pinecone. Why he had these dreams, he didn’t know, but he liked them. Zodack turned to his side and found Dameus hunched over a book. No surprises there. He looked to his other side, whipping his eyes, and saw Awizal. Also…reading…a book… Zodack shrugged and pulled out his own book, joining in. “You are now one of us, mwaha!” Dameus spoke from the side of his mouth. Awizal chuckled and tossed Zodack a piece of parchment reading “He’s an idiot” Zodack roared with laughter and then hushed as Dameus stared over his shoulder before an eye could blink. Dameus laughed and kicked Awizal, picking up his book and leaving their tent. Zodack whipped his eyes a little more and rose to his feet. He grabbed his clothes, his tunic, and his chain mail. He bid Awizal farewell and walked out towards the small pond they found in a thicket of trees. He jumped in and scrubbed away with his rags, cleaning every inch of himself from the mud and dirt he gathered at the farm back in the village. After he was clean, he stepped out and dried off, putting on his clothes and walked over to the campsite. He laughed. Cat and BlackFang were both sitting next to each-other with their bath robes on. Cat was twiddling her fingers, hovering an orc above her head. Apparently, she had kept one to play with. BlackFang was holding a bow strung with an arrow and aiming at the orc. She let loose the arrow and it breezed right past it’s head and the two girls giggled. The orc was dumbfounded and replied with a slurred “Uuuh?”. The two girls laughed even more and Cat simply let go of her hold, the orc falling. Now it was BlackFang’s turn to play a little. BlackFang’s features shimmered for a few seconds and in a glistening shower of morphing sparks, she grew and shape shifted into a warro, an enormous wolf shaped creature bearing dragonlike wings. Warro’s were the size of two hills on top of each-other hovering over a dwarf. They were mildly big. BlackFang caught the orc in midair with her jaws and began tossing it up and down, finally tossing it to the ground and poking it with her paw. Dameus, will you do the honors? An instant later, guess who popped up out of nowhere. “My pleasure, milady.” Dameus drew a dagger and walked up to the orc. He first poked it with his foot and mere moments later slipped his dagger out of its neck. Cat drew a rune in the air and the orc disappeared into nothing. “I teleported him to the orcs we slaughtered yesterday to keep it from getting a bit messy.” Zodack nodded and turned towards Awizal. “So, when do we leave?” Zodack asked. Whenever we have breakfast and have everything packed. BlackFang, if you could please prepare a few meals with Cat’s help, then Zodack and I will prepare the horses. BlackFang snorted and then morphed her figure back into her petit self. It was quite a big difference, between her warro figure and her normal body. Cat and BlackFang then began talking amongst themselves and walked over to their provisions. They could all use magic to make things easier and prepare them instantly, but it got boring with a lack of real work then. So, they all tried doing things normally as often as needed. They weren’t in any rush that day, so Awizal and Zodack walked over to their packs and began loading the two horses. BlackFang usually traveled in her wolf form, so there was nothing she needed to bring with her. Whenever a druid morphed, the excess matter that wasn’t theirs to truly bear was in a certain fashion teleported into a different realm for the time being. When they changed back it warped to its usual placing on the caster. Dameus hardly carried anything except for the enormous pile of objects that hung around his belt and in various other places such as pockets, his boots, bags, and his neck. Altogether a light load, so nothing much for him. Awizal had his own means of carrying his load. He would sometimes call his pegasus and either fly if the sky was clear or simply trot if it was bad weather. Otherwise, he would walk next to Zodack as they traveled. Since Awizal was an elf, he hardly could feel a small spark of fatigue. Elves were renowned for they seemingly never lost a drop of their energy. They could run leagues on end faster than any man on horseback and keep running for days on end. Awizal had only a few bags full of things of which Zodack gladly would carry on Thelmiscis. Cat hardly carried anything. She had an amulet that could store objects up to a certain degree of volume. It was charmed from one of her fellow elemenkish friends in their realm. The rest of the group found it quite interesting, but never complained. Inside of it lay packages full of her scrolls and books of which Dameus would ask her to read every so often. There were also small trinkets and heirlooms, a few souvenirs from her realm and a few enchanted objects such as a talking mirror and an animated stone wyrm. “Do I do anything?” Dameus asked Awizal. Awizal shrugged, an instant later Dameus was next to Cat. “May I please read one of your books please? I just finished my own.” Cat rolled her eyes and poked her amulet. A spidering silver light crept from it and flew to Dameus’ hands, forming a large square. Eventually, the light compacted into a smaller bright square. The light then faded and in Dameus’ hands was a book titled “The Seven Elements and How They Fit In” Dameus leapt in the air, a happy expression on his face, and then appeared beside the guy’s tent(or the idiot’s tent, as the women called it). Awizal and Zodack pursued their loading and readying their departure. After a few minutes of labor, Cat and BlackFang had finished preparing a meal. A few moments later, Awizal and Zodack finished their jobs as well. Dameus devoured his breakfast before anyone else and with an enormous GULP swallowed down every last spoonful of his bacon and egg porridge. Cat merely pulled out a small flask with a strange liquid inside and drained a few drops from it. She shrugged and sat down, waiting for the others to finish. BlackFang merely chewed a raw piece of meat with gusto. Awizal and Zodack both had the same bacon and egg porridge as Dameus did. Minutes later their bellies were filled and they all stood up, Cat and Zodack walking to their mounts. BlackFang as usual shifted into her wolf form and began dashing away. Cat brushed Count with her hand and then patted him on the neck. She then mounted him gently and after a few moments set him on a trot. Zodack rubbed Thelmiscis’ nose and then mounted her as well. Dameus jolted next to Zodack and Awizal and they began talking, Zodack holding the reigns and riding Thelmiscis at their pace. Dameus spoke first “So, Awizal, how do you feel returning to your kind?” he asked. Well of course I’m glad. I haven’t visited them in years. But do not approach their woods without me in the lead, otherwise they will shoot you in an instant. An elf’s arrow is one to be feared. They remember me quite well, so they won’t shoot. I’m really curious how Zodack feels about all of this. I remember he had a friend in the Elven continent of Ilthia. Am I right, Zodack? Zodack didn’t answer at first, but rather turned his head the opposite direction. Aah, keeping to ourselves, aren’t we? Awizal slyly spoke. “Not now, Awizal. If I’m not mistaken, you also have a ‘friend’ there.” Awizal turned his head as well. Dameus rolled his eyes and took out one of his books. “You two always puzzle me.” He spoke. Awizal shrugged and dashed off into the distant rising sun. Dameus looked at Zodack for a few moments and then tossed him a bit of Zelthan wine in a bottle. Zodack caught it with quick reflexes and thanked Dameus, opening up the top and draining it from top to bottom. Gawking, Dameus once again rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “You may ride ahead of me, you know. I’m just going to be reading.” Zodack raised his eyebrows and slurrily answered “m’kay…” He nudged Thelmiscis with his feet and She began fox trotting. Minutes later, Dameus was by himself. “And of course, he gladly leaves. Sheesh…” He then peered around him in all directions, making sure none of his other companions were nearby. Are you still there? A feminine voice that sounded quite annoyed answered him Well of course! It isn’t like I’m going anywhere, is it? Dameus laughed and replied heartily I’m curious…did anything befall Zodack’s village? A few moments later, the voice answered him. Yes. It is quite sad, really. Doesn’t he have two sons or something? Dameus replied in a disciplined tone One son and one nephew. What brought them up? Did they not make it or anything? Seconds passed and the voice answered him Well, one is collapsed in his saddle. Their horses are running almost in our same direction. Hmm…I wonder how they knew where the northeast direction was. Wait…let me get a closer look. Dameus’ eyebrows raised. What, is there something wrong?
Well…I think one has deep scratch marks on him. Dameus’ eyes widened. Maybe…Maybe he got scratched by a red cloak. Zodack will be furious if he sees this. Where do you think they will end up soon if they pursue their current direction? The voice sounded like it was thinking for a few moments and then spoke Probably the woods of Weldon. I am not sure, though. Aren’t those woods supposed to be enemies with the woods we’re headed towards?
Yes…Luminara, keep watch upon those two. They will need all the blessings possible.
*****
Stefan was hunched over Elasia’s back. Caleb had kept their horses in line after stopping them in a secluded corner and sleeping for a few hours. Caleb had no idea of where they were headed exactly, so he searched his pack and found the small map he had. He opened it and examined it thoroughly. Caleb’s eyes grew to the size of coins as he gazed over every inch. He had no idea the world was that big. Their continent, the continent of Balminia, was in the very middle. It was separated into four different provinces. Their own province of Philliman, the enormous province of Vesterith, the province of Korzal, and the second largest province of Lorrage. Their village was a dot the size of a flea on a continent the size of a fist. And yet…there were four other continents. One continent was double the size of Belminia itself. This was the continent of Uber. It was brimming full of mountain ranges around the rim, not counting the mouth that lead into their continent. Within the continent inbetween the mountains was a large blank plane. It was a desert. The desert of Vargiis. The mountain range was separated into four different provinces. The first, which was the largest, was the province of Dameragon, one of Ortrach, one of Telmin, and one of Arumak. The continent of Uber was located at the bottom left of Balminia.
((Workin from here on))

[Joshua, the Wayne]

((To be continued))