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darknightrei
06/21/2006 2:32 PM

(please view OOC/RECR for details and rules)
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Foreward:

It has been said by a great man that one knows not what the next great war will be fought with...but the following war will be fought with sticks and stones.

It has been ages since the falling of the gods to Ao rocked the tiny corner of the world, no longer named in the words of man, yet the shivers of the land have yet to recede from the parting of destruction's icy grasp. These were the Lost Lands now and primal instinct determined survival. Nearly all traces of civilization wiped clean the once fallen Zhentarim can smell the sweetness of their conquest over these territories as abandoned ruins suitable for the next movement...dark Lord Manshoon's ascendancy towards godhood.

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He'd never go back there..."Damned Zhent..." He had to escape..."always ruining..." But she was still..."my fun."
>"NO MORE!!! LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!!! YOU ARE MINE!!!"< The mind-voice screamed as it tore away at his memories trying to grasp control of the pathectic mortal mind...or maybe not so pathetic. So far its attempts had failed and already its power waned, defeat was inevitable but it would not give in.
Finally he managed to wrench the inky tendrils from his mind, but the following agony was not expected. Stars spotted his vision as he fell to the ground...

'wait...she who?' was his final thought before the darkness took him.
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(OOC: this is where the present story begins)
He awakened in the dirt walled hovel that served as a makeshift tavern for the people of this land, a soothing hand pressed to his forehead. He smiled and faded into sleep wondering who that lovely lady could have been.

[Edited by darknightrei on Wednesday, June 21, 2006 2:38 PM]

Flark
06/25/2006 5:18 AM

Returning from yet another pointless patrol, Olwen and his four fellow warrior priests from the Order of the Steel Fang marched wearily through the swampy undergrowth, back towards the camp. Caked from head to foot in mud, they were tired, hungry and becoming increasingly disillusioned and irritable towards the camp and it's other inhabitants.

[Edited by Flark on Monday, July 17, 2006 10:03 AM]

Sway_Greenwitch
07/11/2006 11:31 AM

In so far as Isimë knew, it had been a quiet day in camp thusfar.
She often avoided the women in camp who gossiped without restraint. She found it tiring the way they chattered about [i]who did what with who...[/i] Isimë wasn't interested in meddling and and engaging in idle blather about others; especially, since they all lived in such close quarters. She didn't think it was healthy. Discounting the smell that permeated all the materials that made up the living quarters in camp, that was.

Isimë often left the confines of the dirty camp behind before anyone could approach her.The young elf prefered to be out in the open air amongst the greenery and animal wonders that remained in this five mile oasis, where the The Legion of the Ten currently lived. It was harsh living and for most, a rude awakening to the reality of the devastation that had robbed them of so much...
She suspected however, that they were lucky that there was anything at all left for them to live on.

In the past year gardens had to be planted and tended, animals captured, raised and bred to keep food in everyone's bellies. Bartering was now the sole means of trade and often there were squabbles among men and women. Relationships of all kinds were put to the test as the strain of trying to survive weighed heavily on those that remained.

Isimë sighed gravely. She was currently observing the activity below from her seated position on a grassy ledge two thirds of the way up the mountain that backed the camp. The gentle elven woman counted her blessings that the opportunity to steal away before anyone had had the chance to snag her attention had shown itself. It was one of the only small pleasures she could afford to enjoy these dark days.
Apart from being a member of the Snowfire tribe, she was very much on her own.

[i]"I suppose this will be the way life must be for the time being. We have not been given much choice in the matter, I know. Though...it would be nice if the atmosphere of the camp weren't so dispiriting."[/i]

Someone coming upon her, might have thought she was talking to herself. She often took to talking to the trees and small animals that surrounded her when alone.
Not to mention her words with the Gods. She always felt that much closer to them when she was in their element, rather than being in a temple that enclosed nothing of what was sacred to them.
She went on...

[i] "There's not much celebrating. We should be rejoicing that we will live to see many happy occasions in the future. We need something to pick up everyone's spirits. I wonder if the Legion of Ten's leaders would consider a night of song and dance..." [/i]

She sighed yet again, resigned to the fact that a fair part of her life would be spent in the rebuilding of all that had been lost in the destruction of the world. But, that didn't mean that everyone had to be oppressed every waking moment. Difficulties could be surmounted with much more ease when the tribes people were chipper rather than downtrodden.

The fact that she was Silver elf contributed greatly to this need of hers for creating happiness around her. Silver elves generally enjoyed laughter and merrymaking and tended to be more light hearted than most other elves.

Isimë's soft eyed gaze strayed toward the land that surrounded the sanctuary in which they had all assembled. It looked as though it had been stripped of everything; she would even dare to say that there was a possibility that the soil was devoid of all nutrients.

The elven woman's small white teeth clenched together unconsciously, her lips pulled taught as her mind mulled over all the of the things that would never be the same again and the things that continue on changing forever.

There wasn't a tree to be found for miles outside of the oasis. The trees that still exsisted within the five mile radius often discussed this great loss[i]~ ...earth without life ...How could the gods let this happen?.~[/i]

In the past year she had felt melancholy listening to the wise old trees who were now at a huge loss in numbers. She often asked them questions in order to derail the conversation toward something less disheartening.

A sudden furious fluttering of leaves and branches brought her out of sulking. [i]~Something was happening...~[/i] Isimë's wide eyes narrowed slightlyvas she stilled herself and tuned in to the whisperings of the trees as they communicated their message.

[Edited by Sway_Greenwitch on Tuesday, July 11, 2006 12:36 PM]

darknightrei
07/15/2006 2:52 PM

He'd been taken to a hole in the center of camp and chained to the ground, on his knees, arms wide. Apparently he'd offended Shadowfox by screaming in terror at awakening in a Drow camp. What else was he supposed to do? Welcome them to human territory? As soon as he washed the blackness from his skin he'd teach them a lesson.

"Traitor-Drow!" they screamed out as they began to throw stones and broken plates.

"Stop!" bursting from the lips of a sweet older woman throughout the ordeal. "Someone call Steel Fang!" from others.

A strong wind blew then, rustling the leaves of the thick foliage and the sounds of armored men approaching was barely audible...

teutonicknight
07/16/2006 9:19 AM

Kreel stared down from the branches. There appeared to be a stoning going on. Some poor sap was being stoned, though why, Kreel did not know. He was just glad enough that it wasn't him down there having stones thrown at his head.

The shifting wind brought a strange sound. The sound of metal banging against metal. Armored troops. "Well, this is going to get interesting," Kreel thought to himself. He looked off in the distance towards where the sound was comming from. If he estimated right, they'd be here in no more than two or three minutes. Upon turning back to the spectacle of the stoning Kreel let out an "EEP!" A monkey had found its way to his branch and was engrossed in studying him. A startlement was all, but it most likely gave his position away.

Kreel punched the monkey and hoped that the people below would take his previous sound as the monkey. The monkey fell out of the tree with a loud screech and a dull thud as it hit the ground. Dazed, the monkey staggered a few steps before falling over again.

Unbeliever
07/16/2006 8:03 PM

A weak breeze softly pushed through the trees, the foliage whispering long-kept secrets unheard. Redryn Gale, seated atop the prow of what was once a mighty airship, heard. There were no words to be found, and the only meaning he understood would be from his own imagination. But, he listened, nonetheless.

While the rest of the Reyearth clan complained of all they'd lost since the crisis, Redryn sat and listened to the music of the jungle. Anyone that saw him would scoff to themselves, sure of what it was he was doing, and sure he was a loon for it. He didn't much care what they thought, though. There was music to be found here, in every rustle of a leaf or bush, in every call of animals unknown. He had only to tune it so others could hear.

Considering the long-since worthless lute in his hands, that could prove to be a difficult matter. The back had been damaged in the airship crash that seemed so long ago. It's final notes had been played just about a year ago. It would take a master craftsmen to ever make it capable of music again.

And master craftsmen, it seemed, would be in short supply for some time to come.

With a forlorn sigh, Redryn slid forward and dropped from the height of the wreckage that now served as his family's home. With his lute leaned safely against its side, he turned his back on the place, and started toward the main camp. His true destination would be a bit further, still, but he decided it would be good to see a few faces before giving in to the isolation of the mountain.

With a bit of newfound determination, as well as his knife and half-finished open flute in his pocket, Redryn Gale left the Reyearth compound.

Flark
07/17/2006 10:01 AM

Nearing the camp, the five companions of the Steel Fang halted upon seeing a monkey fall out of a tree just up ahead of them. The monkey stood up for a moment and staggered only a few steps before falling over again.

"Great stinking balls of Tempus! That swine's been at the ale kegs again!" cried out Dale, one of the younger warriors.

Only Mathius, the senior clergyman remained stunned by the blasphemy, the others were charging towards the unfortunate fellow in a rage with weapons held high above their heads.

"[i]STOP![/i]" shrieked Sabastien, skiding to a halt just as Dale was about to deliver the fatal blow. "Look! There's dirty little greenskin hiding up in the tree!"

"Let's kill it," suggested Dane, looking up at the goblin and rubbing his stubbled chin with a seriously thoughtful look about him.

[Edited by Flark on Monday, July 17, 2006 10:05 AM]

teutonicknight
07/18/2006 1:20 PM

Kreel had been holding still in hopes to avoid notice, but upon hearing who appeared to be the commander point him out to the rest of the armoured men, Kreel jumped. He landed off to the right and ran. Obviously he would stand no chance against a group of armored men. He also thought the gathering of people stoning the drow wouldn't welcome him either. Though, he hoped the would feel the same towards a group of armored men running, waving their swords about. So he made a course to pass close by the group while hopefully avoiding them himself.

If that failed, there was a marshy portion of the jungle ahead where the men's armour would weigh them down in the mud and slow them considerably. Just so long as he could outlast them that long, Kreel thought he would live to see another day.

Remembering what one of the men cried out earlier, Kreel made one other last distracting tactic, "Monkey steal food! Kreel hungry, but monkey eat Kreel food."

darknightrei
07/18/2006 8:23 PM

'Women such as I should NOT be bounding along in the jungle after saviors'
Sharyn was running as fast as she could towards Steel Fang, tripping up on the roots along the way. The sight of the rather rotund woman bounding along the jungle like an overstuffed hand puppet would have caused mirth in some had the situation not been so dire. She reached Olwen, panting heavily, adjusting her chest in a rather unladylike fasion and re-tying her apron.
"Fang, Fang, you have to save..."
Just then she spotted something small and green..and ugly...and awefully like a goblin... The realization that it was a goblin hit her like a sack of wall stone, leaving her flopping heavily in the underbrush in a long and screaming faint.

In the distance, the stoning was becoming a massacre, the drow had drawn sticks from the woods and were taking turns whipping the one the camp called Lucien. Deep gashes welled with blood and welps covered old scars in a layer of new ones. The only sound emitiing from the body was a low, gurgling growl of anger and excruciating pain. Chained helplessly to the ground, he was defenseless.
There was an obvious dilemma here, to kill a goblin, or save a drow...
This truly was the end of the world...

[Edited by darknightrei on Tuesday, July 18, 2006 9:10 PM]

[Edited by darknightrei on Wednesday, July 19, 2006 9:45 AM]

Sway_Greenwitch
07/19/2006 10:04 AM

Isimë's delicate elven features developed a faint frown, as she listened to the trees while they brought her their latest tidings. It seemed that all was not quiet in the camp.

In fact, there were two different situations causing great disturbance among the camp's people. She continued to listen with serious intent as the trees relayed the frantic reactions of the camp dwellers.

The young elf leaned forward, propping herself lightly on the palms her hands as she listened trying to decifer what the problems were from her spot up high. Unfortunately, the trees hid a good part of the camp and so, she was not able to see for herself. She was tempted to ignore the entire situation, trusting that it would all take care of itself in time. She was content to stay where she was.

However, as the trees continued their whisperings she learned that there was a [i]~green skin...and... a dark skin[/i] among the camp's people.[i]" Oh, the pains we suffer at the hands of others!"[/i] She breathed the words with some force.

Isimë was unimpressed by this new development. Her kind had a special dislike for both the Goblinkind and the Drow. The young female could easily guess what kind of uproar these appearances would bring from the people below. The Reyearth especially.

As she struggled with the idea of staying or going, she pushed herself back to a sitting position. She then dusted her hands off and in a single fluid motion rose to her feet. Her mind was burdended with the fact that all this commotion was affecting the environment.

[Edited by Sway_Greenwitch on Wednesday, July 19, 2006 10:07 AM]

Flark
07/19/2006 2:04 PM


"Monkey steal food! Kreel hungry, but monkey eat Kreel food."

Dane and Dale, the two younger clergymen turned to stare at one another in confusion.
"The ale!" shrieked Dale, then the pair sprinted off as fast as they could towards the Steel Fang's makeshift temple of Tempus.

Meanwhile, Olwen was displaying a rather puzzled look towards the large woman who was talking at him. Upon spotting a glimpse of the fleeing goblin she buckled over and fainted right there in front of him, landing in the mud with a loud splat. Olwen blinked a few times to exaggerate his disinterest. Turning his back and slinging his mace over his shoulder, he too headed off in the direction of the temple.

"Sebastien, take charge of the good lady here, I'll try to find out what all this fuss is about." boomed Mathius.

Following the command of his friend and leader, Sebastien hurried over to dutifully check on the woman.

Looking every part the hero with his stoic features and chiseled good looks, Mathius quickly disappeared, making his way towards the centre of the camp he boldly approached the crowd of people.

"IN THE NAME OF TEMPUS, I COMMAND YOU TO STOP THIS COWARDICE AT ONCE!"

teutonicknight
07/19/2006 2:14 PM

Kreel continued to run for a minute before realizing that no one was chasing him. Looking around, Kreel listened for any signs of pursuit. Quiet. Kreel heaved a sigh of relief as he plopped to the ground, somewhat tired after the run.

"Kreel gets old." He confided to himself. "Kreel too old for running. Kreel too old for fighting. Kreel too old." Closing his eyes to rest a minute and regain his breath, Kreel listened to the woods about him. There was a loud shout from the camp, but Kreel was too far to make out any distinct words.

A twig snapped off to Kreel's left and he jumped up and away from the sound. Upon inspection it was just a squirrel that was more startled of Kreel than he was of it. The squirrel bounded away and up a nearby tree. "Kreel be jumpy."

Having regained his wind, Kreel had to make a choice. He could go back to the camp and find out just what was going on, or he could go back to what he called home. Decisions, decisions.

Unbeliever
07/19/2006 2:16 PM

Redryn realized the main camp was astir shortly before he arrived. The day was usually quiet, save for the normal sounds of labor. Today there was a commotion.

Only dimly aware that he'd picked up his pace, Redryn despaired at the idea of being kept from the mountain. He'd been looking forward to finding time for himself to finish his new instrument. It seemed this day was intent on spoiling his plans.

Once inside the camp, he had to avoid the odd passer-by, running at full tilt to the center of the camp. Now Redryn made a point of hurrying along to find out what the cause of the commotion could be. His mind was ablur at the possibilities.

What he found, though, was less than pleasing. A drow, filthy, as their kind tended to be, was on his knees, in chains. He didn't seem to be begging for mercy, but the crowd made it clear that was what they wanted to see. They cursed and taunted him mercilessly.

While Redryn was no friend to their kind, he only looked on. He had no pity for the creature before him, but no desire to make its time in bondage even worse than it already was. He was about to leave the foul situation behind and take to the mountain trail anyway, when a loud cry stopped him in his tracks.

Silence descended on the crowd.

The leader of the Steel Fang, a man that seemed to Redryn to have been overinflated, stepped menacingly into the crowd, every so often glaring down at one spectator or another as he made his way to the center.

Redryn stood rooted to his spot, unable to turn away from what would unfold.

Sway_Greenwitch
07/24/2006 9:11 AM

While she had not decided to stay where she was, Isimë hadn't made any move to start down the mountain, yet. She still hesitated leaving her peaceful spot, wanting to commune with nature rather than the camp dwellers below.

Strange as it was, she suddenly felt as though she was being called. She stepped close to the ledge of the outcropping where she had been sitting earlier and glanced below. There was someone dressed in the robes of her tribe at the base of the mountain, and they were looking up at her.

She then heard distorted yelling from the camp below. If she had to make an assumption, she would have guessed that it was a one of the Steel Fang members.

[i]" Brutes that they are."[/i] she voiced softly to herself..

And again, a faint tingling feeling in her mind. She brushed a gentle palm over her temple while lifting her other to wave at the person below.[i]~I'm coming, I'm coming...[/i]~

She was most definitely being called to join the others of her tribe. Now she knew with certainty that there was trouble, but to call the tribe together? It must be something more serious than she had previously thought. Some action was about to be taken and not lightly.

Putting her feet in motion, she began her descent down the mountain to meet her escort. Isimë dreaded to enter the chaos of camp and whatever else lay in wait...

darknightrei
07/30/2006 11:45 AM

The circle of frenzied drow was beginning to get out of hand. Some had drawn what few magical trinkets had been left to them and had begun to push forward to inflict newer, more creative, types of pain on the night-skin that refused to claim Lloth...or even dunmer blood as his own. There was no reason now, no control...only bloodlust and the primitive urges of true dark elves to torture and kill.

The drow were no longer a tolerable evil in the land of the survivors, but a quickly developing plague.

The cries of the Fang leader only served to incite the entire clan to violence. Dunmer everywhere were grabbing staves and spears and rushing to attack the traitor with everything they had. Lightning spat and crackled as it tore through the chained body, leaving deep black burns and the stench of smoking flesh. Spears thrust through the crowd to transfix Lucien, leaving him pinned by arms and legs like a gossamer marionette as the staves beat him down to the ground, crushing bone and bruising flesh.

The commotion had nearly reached that of a riot. Weapons were being drawn, and the crowd was threatening to attack the villagers. Drow were brandishing weapons at innocents and even threatening the Fang leader.

As if things couldn't be more violent or hectic, cries of "GREENSKIN" and "GOBLIN", having gone ignored thus far, were accompanied now by the sounds of the makeshift war drums easily identified as those of a goblin raiding party. They were an hour away at most and the entire settlement was beginning to panic. "EVERYONE INTO THE TEMPLE," came the cry of Bennigan, the elected leader of the camp. "WE MUST DEFEND THE TEMPLE."

A small girl had thusly exclaimed "why defend the ones who ignore us..." Just then, a roar more ear piercing than any beast and more powerful than any thunder split the sounds of the commotion and a blue-silver glow began to emanate from the dark elf that should have been a corpse in the center of a pile of flailing, angered, beasts...all was silent then and what was heard then would be forever remembered.

[I]The gods are no more...Ao has punished us all...the divine no longer live...thus begins the reckoning and the time of new powers...However, seek your gods still...for they may be closer than ever...even in death...[/I]

"Mystra..." whispered Lucien...and was engulfed in a pillar of silver fire...

[Edited by darknightrei on Sunday, July 30, 2006 11:52 AM]

[Edited by darknightrei on Tuesday, August 1, 2006 2:11 PM]

teutonicknight
08/03/2006 10:43 AM

Kreel heard the sounds of the drums and decided that further examination of the camp was inadvisable. Kreel knew these areas well enough to know where to go to avoid notice in times like these. Unfortunately, that was in the direction the drums were comming from. Likely they had thought to come unnoticed upon the settlement through the swamplands. Though, how they would do that with their drums beating like that, Kreel had no idea. All he knew was that he had to get somewhere safe.

Kreel turned around a few times before thinking of the mountain just outside the forest. That would provide enough distance between him and the settlement for him to not be threatened, but he could still keep a vantage point on what was going on. Deciding on that, he lumbered off.

Marcus_Nelson
08/10/2006 5:53 PM

Unglar raced up the makeshift trail through the forest towards the mountain. It was a difficult trail to find, but Unglar knew it well, having traveled down it to the river to fish almost every day. Now though, with war drums pounding, the sound of fear in the air, and the terror he had come to associate with oncoming violence, he began to flee back to his cave.
Being so close to the Drow lands, Unglar had learned to hide the cave well, and a few tricks about not leaving tracks. He felt a small mote of self pity that in his non-violence he would be forever damned to be surrounded by it, but quickly snuffed the emotion.

"Pity won't keep you alive..." he muttered to himself just as he nearly tripped over an elderly goblin. "What in the nine hells..?!" He said incredulously looking down mildly stunned at this unexpected confrontation.

Unglar quickly assessed the goblin. He was old, and tired...likly fleeing judging by his haggarded appearance. If he could save this life from whatever pursued him, perhaps he would make another step in the road to redemption.

Knowing words would be too slow, Unglar recalled a hand signal from his childhood, a fist to the heart, extending out into and open palm. An old signal, that represented protection and friendship. As he rose his fist to give the signal, he only hoped the old goblin remembered the customs...

teutonicknight
08/29/2006 4:20 PM

Kreel was nearly run over by a giant form. Kreel had apparently not heard the man running towards him because he was so intent on the sound of the drums and getting away from them. Instinctively Kreel fell into a roll and came back up in a crouch, his hand around his dagger. Age may have dimmed some of his senses, but when confronted with a life-or-death situation Kreel's instincts for survival were still sharp.

Though, then, Kreel noticed something. This monstrosity was obviously a Half-Orc by his build, and surprisingly enough he was giving Kreel the sign for friendship! Kreel slightly squinted his eyes in scrupulation of this brute. He wore only one obvious weapon, an old knife. That was odd for one of his kind. They usually carried around multiple instruments of destruction. It could be true that this man didn't want to fight. Or it could be a ploy to put Kreel off-guard.

"What you want?" Kreel asked suspiciously. He didn't loose his grip on his dagger, though.

Sway_Greenwitch
09/06/2006 9:06 AM

There were two paths that led from the base of the mountain which converged into one as they reached the middle of the mountain. Isimë had reached that particular point then, took the most direct route to reach the bottom. Had she been any later or sooner she would have met up with the green skin and his new companion on their way up.

The trees had not yet told her of this odd pairing, they were more interested in the band of Goblins, as they closed in on on the camp.

She knew, as the trees did, that things were not well in the camp. The upset at the appearance of two odd beings in close proximity had tossed all order aside. Now the people were in danger from this imminent Goblin attack.

She frowned as she thought about how,[i] somehow[/i], they would have to try and defend what was theirs. Their only other option was a hasty retreat up the mountain where they could easily defend the mountain path, should things turn awry.

As she reached the base of the mountain and the side of her escort. They began immideiately walking with speed toward the camp. She smiled wanly at the familar collegue and assesed his features with some concern. Her brows drew together at the worried look that she observed there.

[i]" What is the word Jalleal?"[/i]

[i][b] "I'm afraid it's not good Isimë. We have had two upsets in the camp this morning and now are expecting a band of Goblins to come crashing through the jungle at us very soon."[/i][/b]

Isimë nodded quickly as he related the information to her. She already had a good idea about what was going on from the information she had gathered from the trees.
Jalleal continued.

[i][b]"The Snowfire tribe has been called together by Alaunus so that we may cast a calming spell over the entire village. We desperately need this in order to prepare for the attack Isimë. We all need clear heads and calm minds to deal with what's coming."[/i][/b]

Isimë wondered if there was something more he wasn't saying...But at that point they had reached the village and were ushered toward the camp centre where all were assembled.

On her way through the throng she hurriedly pushed past a man dark haired man and banged her knee on something hard. She winced, then turned quickly to see what it was she had hit. Her eyes quickly caught sight of a lute in the man's hand. Presseing her lips together gently she then lifted her gaze to Redryn's face and mouthed a soft[i]" Pardon me sir." [/i] before shrugging and scampering off behind Jalleal. She looked back once again before reaching her tribe and joining hands in a circle that had been formed but couldn't see him through the crowd.

Alaunus head of the Snowfire tribe was in the centre of all. As Isimë had joined the circle he lifted a brow in her direction, then instructed them to begin the calming spell.
The Snowfire tribe lifted their voices in unison as they chanted the spell. Isimë then lifted her own sweet, solitary voice above those already chanting. Her task was to bind the spell so that it lasted long enough to get them through this rough patch.

[i]"Shol sor maer sai eir vaerael caesi, mai sar shi eir tae jholi byr ail thaes. Jhaer air shi mai....Shol sor maer sai eir vaerael caesi, mai sar shi eir tae jholi byr ail thaes. Jhaer air shi mai... ..Shol sor maer sai eir vaerael caesi, mai sar shi eir tae jholi byr ail thaes. Jhaer air shi mai...Shol sor maer sai eir vaerael caesi, mai sar shi eir tae jholi byr ail thaes. Jhaer air shi mai."[/i]

She closed her eyes as she felt the spell complete and her colleagues voices diminish. There was a hush over the entire village as the spell did it's work.
Alaunus then spoke out in the silence following.

[i][b] " Go in peace fellow camp dwellers. We must prepare for what is to come."[/i][/b]

----------------------------------

Each tribe had it's work cut out for them. The leader of the Ten began to orchestrate what had to be done.

Women and children would gather valuables and pack basic needs in case they had escape up the mountain.

All fighting able men would join with the Steel Fang tribe and would plan the defense and possible retreat options should they be needed.

The Snowfire tribe would take charge of the darkskin. He needed much care at the moment and was still very much unconscious.

Soon the Goblins would be upon them.

-----------------------------------

Alaunus approached Isimë slowly as she watched her colleagues as they carried the darkskin to the healing tent.

[i][b] "I know you don't care for the darkskins Isimë , but it is our calling to heal. We've had some strange happenings here this morning, I know you're not ignorant of that fact. There is something strange about this new arrival. We must find out what is happening and why this may have something to do with Mystra".[/i][/b]

Isimë had not taken her eyes from the dreaded creature that was closely related to her own kind. She nodded lightly as her tribe leader spoke knowing that Alaunus was right. She had to steel herself against her feelings whatever they might be. It was for the better good of all.

[i] "Yes, I can't deny my feelings of distrust. I'm naturally opposed to bringing him into the healing tent but, I will stay neutral in the matter. Do not worry about this Alaunus."[/i]

She reassured him with a slight upturn of her lips, her eyes lifting to meet his as the darkskin left her sight.

[i][b]" Prepare yourself for what is to come then."[/i][/b]

Alaunus patted her shoulder as a father would do, then left her side to enter the tent himself.

Isimë expelled a small breath and took a quick look around to see that everyone was indeed calm, then set herself in motion once again.

[i]To the task of packing my own things then...[/i]

Desner_Val
09/11/2006 2:53 PM

Memories seem to fall away from him as he sits up. Pain creeps all throughout his body, all that can be remembered is the deaths of his companions. How could he be alive, all was hopeless. Mud drips off of his body as he stands and attempts to regain his mind. The only clues to anything around him were the four badges of Tempus laying next to the tree where he awoke. Desner draws his short sword. The sun seems to have a hard time sending its shine through the blade. The steel slightly rusty though extremely sharp.

Knowing the only chance he had was to find more of the Steel Fang Order. For his injuries may prove to be extremely life threatening. Pushing through the pain echoing all through his body Desner begins to walk, attempting to follow any signs of life he possibly could. Sword still drawn Desner scans the area ever so carefully as he makes his way on his journey.

The sword falls to the ground as Desner trips over himself, doubling over in pain the screams can be heard for quite a distance. His mind begins to wander back to the days of slavery. Whips slash upon his back as he works harder and harder. Nothing could stop the whips, no matter how hard one would work they would not stop. Death was the only escape from agony....and this would come to mind yet again. Why am I alive....What tricks are these that my lord is playing upon me. A few deep breaths are sucked in before Desner rises yet again, taking his sword into hand.

Forever is what it would seem, not another living being in forever...Time is forgotten and life is close to ending. Waivoring memories begin to flow once more, this time slightly more horrifieng. His brother....A blade is what he was, a lone warrior of Tempus. Blades cling together as the fight echoes onward. Blood flows rapidly as a stomach is pierced, the blade rips through the body as if it was nothing but air. The man then retreats the blade and slashes at another persuer. Though his aim was off, his blade fell short and his reflexes were not quick enough. A persuents blade connects to his throat, ripping away tendons and flesh with a remarkable amount of ease.

Echoes lift through the brush as Desner makes his way toward what he hopes is salvation. Lowering his body Desner begins to slowly move almost doubling over in pain every step. His eyes come across that of goblins...Knowing he would not be able to face these goblins in his state, or even by himself in a fully rejuvinated state, Desner begins to creep away. Hoping he can find a way around them. Continuing to move in silence the vision of a camp comes into sight.

Upon reaching what would appear to be a camp Desner kneels yet again. His sword digs into the ground as he begins to scan the camp, obvious signs of the Steel Fang were scattered about randomly. A slight amount of happiness flows through his mind as he stands and begins to walk to the camp.

Pain would come yet again, agony on such a degree that darkness overwhelmed Desner. Nothing now could be seen though the descent towards the ground was apparent. He would feel the sharp pain of his wounds colliding against the hard ground. Blood would begin to pour yet again from his stomach, and leg. Though pain will cease....Death should come....And now he dreams...beutifull dreams of foreign landscapes and wonderous woman.

[Edited by Desner_Val on Monday, September 11, 2006 3:17 PM]

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