Thank you! Although calling most of them "my characters" is inaccurate. Most of them, I merely cultivate. Zariana is one of mine though, and my brother made Korin with my help, so those belong to me more than most.
Thank you! Although calling most of them "my characters" is inaccurate. Most of them, I merely cultivate. Zariana is one of mine though, and my brother made Korin with my help, so those belong to me more than most.
I always mess that up. You portray them so well, though.
Thank you! Although calling most of them "my characters" is inaccurate. Most of them, I merely cultivate. Zariana is one of mine though, and my brother made Korin with my help, so those belong to me more than most.
I always mess that up. You portray them so well, though.
I do very much like hunting down and tweaking characters to fit in to my story.
-last edited on May 10, 2019 19:05:09 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 10, 2019 19:04:44 GMT
Chapter 114
Ranks of Falkrions formed up around the dragons to protect them from attack as they gathered up a collection of enormous boulders to throw at the defenders. Neceire continued her barrage of ice and snow, mostly attacking soldiers but also working on freezing the gate to the point where they might shatter it. Some distance away, the vicious battle raged on between the dwarves and the rest of the Falkrions. They were not winning, Terra knew, but neither were they truly losing.
And then there came the sound of trumpets. The battle paused for a moment as all looked around, trying to see where they had come from. Slowly, obscured by the darkness and sheets of rain, a small army materialized – the elves, led by Queen Legolie herself. But whose side were they on? The army stopped equidistant from both the castle and the Falkrion army, and four figures separated from it. A thin elf dressed in robes and a larger in armor went toward the castle. Legolie and a woman Terra did not recognize went toward the Falkrions. As they grew closer, Terra realized they were walking straight for her. “What . . . what brings you here, Queen Legolie?” she asked.
Legolie snorted. “I’m here to undo the mess you all seem so intent on working yourselves into. I have a message from Skirj for you, Terra. He wants you to ask yourself, ‘What would Skrag do?’.”
What would Skrag do? The question echoed through Terra’s mind as she surveyed the battlefield. What would Skrag do? Skirj’s words, and her own, came back to her and a chill went down her spine. “What have I done?” she whispered.
“Nothing it’s too late to undo. Stop the war. There’s more going on here than you understand. Don’t trust your dreams.”
Terra nodded. “Go talk to Tinunclus.” She pointed out the Falkrion leader. “I–.” Another realization struck her. “I have to go stop Hithrol.” She took off toward the forest and after a second realized the unfamiliar woman had joined her. As they ran, the woman, whose name it turned out was Elowyn, explained the things Skirj had told them. Terra didn’t want to believe her at first, but she could feel the truth of it. She had been such a fool, and now she had to do something about it.
-last edited on May 11, 2019 20:22:52 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 11, 2019 20:22:20 GMT
Chapter 115
Alis brought her sword up to strike at Hithrol, but an invisible force pushed at her, knocking her back. Hithrol was using magic, the dirty cheater. Alis snarled and leapt at him again, but before she could retaliate, two people burst through the trees, Terra and an elven woman Alis did not recognize. “Stop!” shouted the Mermian, “Hithrol, the nightmares we’ve been having aren’t normal! They were sent! This is what they wanted!”
The elven woman elaborated, “Skirj came to me and told me this. It is all a distraction. There is a man who needed to get the Dragon Knights out of their castle, so he’s been sending nightmares to all of you to get you to fight this war.”
Alis’s legs felt weak. It could be a trick, but . . . Skirj had said this? She looked at Hithrol; he was staring forward, stunned. So, he had been having nightmares, too. It could have been coincidence, perhaps, but she knew it was not. Someone had broken into her mind, again, and fiddled with it, just like Morath and Marrzak had. Alis fell to her knees. The other soldiers looked at her, ready to attack, and she shook her head. The whole war, everything she had known for who knew how long, had been a lie.
Calmly, Queen Virida listened to the Ckoro Egas as he explained the situation. The more he said, the more she believed him. Did it seem crazy to think that they had been manipulated into this whole war through their nightmares? Yes, but it was also frighteningly plausible, and far too consistent with her own observations. And, the more he spoke, the more she realized that, even if they hadn’t been manipulated, this war was a mistake. Why they had not tried to reach an alternative, peaceful, solution, she could not now understand. When Egas was done, she told Gyr to order the troops to stop fighting. To her relief, it seemed Queen Legolie had gotten through to the Falkrions; they were retreating as well.
A few hours later, Virida sat with Legolie, Tinunclus, Hithrol, and Moldof, the dwarven general. “So, what do we do now?” she asked.
Tinunclus responded, still clearly not entirely pleased, “We need to find a place for my people. Many are still angered by the ambush and the losses we have taken.”
“I am well aware,” replied Virida, carefully moderating her tone, “But I’m referring to the situation with the the immensely powerful evil sorcerer.”
Legolie shrugged. “We just hope Skirj can find a way to save the world. At this point, that’s all the hope we have.”
-last edited on May 13, 2019 18:45:39 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 13, 2019 18:45:11 GMT
Chapter 116
Skirj emerged into the room below the castle.
Septimus was on the floor, drawing runes and casting complex webs of spellwork with his hands. The red gemstone, the source of his immense power, his connection to this plane of existence should he fall again, gleamed as he raised it in the air. Skorj stood against one wall, his sword lazily gripped in one hand, clearly bored. Neither was expecting Skirj, and he took full advantage of this, charging immediately at Septimus, spear raised. But Skorj moved more quickly than he had expected, tackling him just before he reached the rings of runes. “I smashed you!”
“Not quite, Dad.” He laced the word with as much venom as he could muster, and with a shout of rage flung his father away.
“Take care of him!” shouted Septimus without pausing in his spellcasting.
Skorj replied angrily. “What does it look like I’m doing?” And then he was on Skirj again, this time swiping at his son with his sword.
Skirj sidestepped, unsure whether Shadowwrath’s spear had the strength to block a sword strike, and followed up a series of rapid jabs that forced his father back a few steps.
In this way, the two of them, father and son, danced back and forth, one striking, the other countering, each in turn. Skirj was younger, more agile, and had better reach with his weapon, but he was also still weak from his injuries. Skorj had the twin advantages of experience and talent, despite his age.
But as they fought, Skirj knew he could not win like this. Even if he managed to defeat his father, Septimus was gaining precious time to finish his spell.
Skorj took a step back, taunting his son. “You were never a true warrior, boy. As much as you tried to be, you were never as strong as I was.”
At that, an idea came to Skirj. “You’re right, father. I’m not a warrior.” With a flick of his wrist, he opened a tiny portal just as Skorj attempted another thrust. The blade went through the portal and out the other end – right into its owner’s back. Skorj gave a cry of surprise and fell forward as Skirj finished his sentence. “I’m a sorcerer.” Closing his eyes, Skirj brought down his spear. “I’m sorry, Skorj, but you haven’t really been my family in a long time.”
-last edited on May 14, 2019 18:41:23 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 14, 2019 18:40:51 GMT
Chapter 117
Sagging a little from exhaustion, Skirj turned to Septimus. “It’s over.”
Septimus didn’t so much as pause in his spellwork. “No, it’s not. I never needed your father. I never needed you. Even if you smash me here, I will return and try again. Eventually, you will fail, and I will win.”
Spear ready, Skirj charged at Septimus, only to be flung away by a wave of the alchemist’s hand. He hit the wall and the spear fell from his fingers, skidding away. An involuntary groan of pain left his lips.
Vision blurry, Skirj looked on as Septimus approached. “You would have been a promising student. I’m sorry it came to this.” He raised a hand to cast another spell, but before he could Skirj kicked him in the knee.
Septimus stumbled back a few steps as Skirj shakily got to his feet. “You’ve been without a body too long; you forgot what pain felt like.” But it was not just pain in Septimus’s eyes, the goblin realized; there was fear as well. On the floor between them, dropped in a moment of shock, was the gemstone.
Both dove for it, but it had rolled toward Skirj and he snatched it before Septimus could. As he gripped the red gemstone, he felt it begin to crumble, turning to a fine red powder in his hand. Septimus, clearly feeling what had happened, looked on in horror. Not entirely understanding what he had done but nevertheless ready to take advantage of it, Skirj grabbed his father’s sword and swung it at his one-time mentor.
There was a second of silence, and then Septimus hit the floor, smashed at last. Wearily, Skirj dissipated a few of the spells the alchemist had cast – most were too strong for him and would have been even if he were fully rested – and began combing through the pockets of both Septimus and Skorj. He found a sack of red-veined leaves, a handful of vials filled with a greenish liquid, and several nasty-looking daggers. All of this, he placed into a pile and hid under Septimus’s cloak. He would destroy the Dragonsbane later, when his strength had recovered a little, but there was one more task to complete now. Using the last of his magical strength, Skirj opened a portal.
-last edited on May 15, 2019 19:47:02 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 15, 2019 19:46:42 GMT
Chapter 118
The instant Hayteleck landed – though, technically, it was more of a flop onto the ground – he transformed back into his normal shape, shedding feathers, beak, and the rest of his birdly accoutrement. Errica landed softly next to him before smoothly transitioning back into her Mermian form. He shot her a joking glare. “I’m never doing that again.”
“Then you’d better hope he’s actually here. Flying is the quickest way for us to travel.”
Hayteleck sighed. When the locator spell had first activated, it had sent them far to the south. Then it had jumped north, and then jumped north again to stop where they were now, not too far from where they had started. “Let’s find out.” He waved a hand to create a light and gasped at what it showed him. An entire section of wall seemed to be missing from the castle, reduced to gray sludge. A few body parts stuck out from it. “I think he’s here.”
Before Errica could reply, they saw a dark blue portal beginning to open in front of them – apparently, they weren’t the only ones who’d found Skirj. Errica shoved Hayteleck forward. “You find him. I’ll distract Cyril.” Nodding, Hayteleck ran through the gap in the wall.
Inside the walls, there was chaos. Only a handful of Dragon Knights could be seen, and they were under attack from what appeared to be a group of bandits barely outnumbering them. With the darkness as their ally, the bandits struck at the Dragon Knights with arrows and blades, flitting away into the shadows before their targets could retaliate. Hayteleck grew his ball of light, illuminating the whole courtyard, and as he did all of them, bandits and soldiers alike, turned to stare at him.
At that moment, an orange portal opened in the center of the courtyard and Skirj stepped through. Hayteleck opened his mouth to call out, but before he could one of the bandits raised his bow and released an arrow straight into the goblin’s throat. Hayteleck screamed in anguish and launched a blast of energy at the bandit, vaporizing him where he stood. He ran to Skirj’s side, but it was too late.
-last edited on May 16, 2019 19:41:47 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 16, 2019 19:40:52 GMT
Chapter 119
Skirj awoke in a void. It seemed to stretch on into eternity, surrounding him with empty, black nothingness. A faint orange glow lit the void nearest Skirj, though there wasn’t really anything for it to illuminate, and it took him a moment to realize he was the light source. He cast his mind back, trying to uncover how he had come to be here.
He remembered smashing Septimus and his father, then opening a portal up to the courtyard to find someone to whom he could explain what had happened. After that, nothing, just a jolt of shock and pain and a burst of yellow-green light.
Experimentally, Skirj tried standing up and found that his exhaustion had vanished. But was that due to rest or had he been magically rejuvenated? Ultimately, he decided, it didn’t really matter. He took a few steps forward. It was a strange sensation; though he could feel his body moving, the bizarre uniformity of his surroundings made it look as if he was walking in place. A thought occurred to him. He imagined the ground sloping up before him and found that as he walked forward he could feel himself moving upward as well, though again there was no visual indication of this.
Taking another step, Skirj looked up and saw a figure in the distance, moving towards him. He sat down to wait. As the figure got closer, he began to make out details. It was a tall man, broad-shouldered, dressed in brown and purple rags and eclectic pieces of pitch-black armor that somehow stood out against the darkness of the void. Where his face should have been there was only a purple mass of flesh with a slit for a mouth. The man stopped a few feet away. “Hello,” said Skirj, “Where are we?”
The man’s deep, jagged voice sent a chill down Skirj’s spine. “We are in the post-mortal plane. You are smashed.”
“Oh.” Skirj thought about that for a moment. “I should have guessed, I suppose, but I don’t remember much from last time. I certainly don’t remember you.”
The man nodded. “I am . . . a recent acquisition by the Keeper of Souls. You may call me the Reaper of Shadows.”
“Very well. Why have you come to me, Reaper of Shadows?”
“The Keeper wishes to speak with you. Follow me.” The Reaper of Shadows turned around and began walking back the way he had come. Skirj followed.
As Skirj walked with the Reaper, a thought occurred to him. “You were Shadowwrath, weren’t you, the Faceless Warrior? I recognize the armor.”
The Reaper nodded. “That was once what I called myself, before I gave my life to the Keeper.”
Skirj awoke in a void. It seemed to stretch on into eternity, surrounding him with empty, black nothingness. A faint orange glow lit the void nearest Skirj, though there wasn’t really anything for it to illuminate, and it took him a moment to realize he was the light source. He cast his mind back, trying to uncover how he had come to be here.
He remembered smashing Septimus and his father, then opening a portal up to the courtyard to find someone to whom he could explain what had happened. After that, nothing, just a jolt of shock and pain and a burst of yellow-green light.
Experimentally, Skirj tried standing up and found that his exhaustion had vanished. But was that due to rest or had he been magically rejuvenated? Ultimately, he decided, it didn’t really matter. He took a few steps forward. It was a strange sensation; though he could feel his body moving, the bizarre uniformity of his surroundings made it look as if he was walking in place. A thought occurred to him. He imagined the ground sloping up before him and found that as he walked forward he could feel himself moving upward as well, though again there was no visual indication of this.
Taking another step, Skirj looked up and saw a figure in the distance, moving towards him. He sat down to wait. As the figure got closer, he began to make out details. It was a tall man, broad-shouldered, dressed in brown and purple rags and eclectic pieces of pitch-black armor that somehow stood out against the darkness of the void. Where his face should have been there was only a purple mass of flesh with a slit for a mouth. The man stopped a few feet away. “Hello,” said Skirj, “Where are we?”
The man’s deep, jagged voice sent a chill down Skirj’s spine. “We are in the post-mortal plane. You are smashed.”
“Oh.” Skirj thought about that for a moment. “I should have guessed, I suppose, but I don’t remember much from last time. I certainly don’t remember you.”
The man nodded. “I am . . . a recent acquisition by the Keeper of Souls. You may call me the Reaper of Shadows.”
“Very well. Why have you come to me, Reaper of Shadows?”
“The Keeper wishes to speak with you. Follow me.” The Reaper of Shadows turned around and began walking back the way he had come. Skirj followed.
As Skirj walked with the Reaper, a thought occurred to him. “You were Shadowwrath, weren’t you, the Faceless Warrior? I recognize the armor.”
The Reaper nodded. “That was once what I called myself, before I gave my life to the Keeper.”
NOOOO!!!! RuleJJ, you're not allowed to keep smashing main characters after I get really attached to them.
