Tales of Norrath

[MysticTrunks01]

(This is nothing more than my vision for the future of Norrath in a series of stories.  Agree or not, it's not ment to focus or direct ingame RP at all from my server Antonia Bayle.  Though a few guilds and people will be mentioned as well as my character telling the stories from the far distant future.   All events are set so far ahead of the timeline we'll never get there anyway.  It's just for fun and something I wanted to do for myself as a challange and one I hope that you will enjoy reading as much as I have enjoyed writing. ) Upon a hill, near what was once known as the Green Knoll in Greater Faydark, a group of children gathered.  There was over a dozen in all, Fae, Koada'Dal, Fier'Dal, two humans and even a Tier'Dal girl and an Iksar boy.  They all had smiles upon their faces, eyes alight with joy and happyness. The air was sweet with the smell of greenery and life.  The trees above still stuggling to reach the suns light, fighting each other like playful children.  The morning dew was just finishing it's retreat back into the air it settled from and the birds were singing their merry songs welcoming the new day. The Children gathered around an ancient memorial stone.  Which over time had been worn away through weather and time.  It had broken and have long ago, the Fae warrior, once proud with his hand raised high and his chin jutted in defiance of the Ancient Battle that it memorialize, now lay in two halves burried in the earth.  They dozen and some sat around in a semi circle about this place, chatting and talking amoung themselves. A shadow crept over the ancient stones from behind and the childrens voices hushed as though they had just entered a tomb.  A wrinkled hand rans over the stone, as it always did when it came to this place.  The old man attatched to it slowly made his way about and took a seat upon the old memorial as though it was his and only his to take. The old man was dressed covered in worn robes that at one time may have been the finest dress in the land, but no more.  They were tattered and covered in holes, a dirty black color.  His face was kind and caring, crows feet pulled at the corner of his eyes and when he smiled, they grew longer and stretched. "Good morning Children,"  he spoke with a slight accent but over time this to had been worn away. In unison or near enough to it for children of no more than ten years old, "Good moooorning Papa."  Even though he was not their father, it was the name he was known by to all. Cool violet eyes, still sharp in their old age, scanned the gathered.  "But where is little Tivloia?" A tiny Fae girl of no more than five raised her hand, he large pink eyes fantic to get his attention.  He tiny golden wings waving furiously behind her, "Oh oh oh!" She spoke as her hand begain to wave back and forth in a blur. The old man smiled and nodded, "Yes Elesia?" Standing the Elesia said, "Sthe goths thick Papa.  Hers tummy was hurtin' and her momma said sthe couldn't come.  Stho i got'sa pay close attention today stho i can tell her what happenths."  Seeming pleased with her self and glad to help she grinned proudly and broadly before sitting down. "Ahh, well that is a shame indeed.  And i'm sure you'll do a great job retelling the tale Elesia."  He clapped his hand sharply. "Now, where were we? .. ah yes!  The The Fall of Freeport..."

[MysticTrunks01]

The old man smiled as he looked at the anticipation and flare in the eyes of the children, his light purple lips pulling at the corners causing, until then, invisable age lines to become visable.  "Remember now children.  This is not the Freeport we know today, run ruled by The Nine.  This was a Freeport of many races, Ogre, Troll, Iksar, Ratonga, Kerrans and the like."  Shaking his head at the hand he knew going to come up.  "Yes little one?" The little Fae boy next to Elesia, Florvlin stood to ask his question, rising to meet his hand held high.  "What is a Ratonga's Papa?"  Opening his mouth with a "tch" sound the old story teller tilted his head back a bit nodding, "Ah yes, I don't believe i've mentioned them much.  The Ratonga were a race of rat like men and women.  They came above in the Age of Turmoil from their lairs far below.  No one knows where they came from or what spawned them.  But they were..." smiling foundly, "good people, for the most part.  They have since returned almost entirely back to their burrows, now and again one is seen but they are a rarity to be assured." Returning to the subject he lowered his head, meeting the eyes of the gathered as he went on, "As i said, this was a different Freeport .  For it was run by the evil Liche, Lucan D'Lere.  A fallen Paladin from the ages passed.  No one know's how this man gained the powers he had acquired, and none who asked were likely to be seen again." "For this man ruled over Freeport, in a giant floating castle above the city, the Twilight Citadel.  It hovered above his subjects like an ominious hammer of the heavens.  The people never knowing when it might fall upon them, no, not litterally Elesia," he spoke in response to the Fae's little hand knowing what she was going to say be the expression of awe on her face at the actual idea of a giant hammer smashing it's citizens at random. "The Twilight Citadel was as much a symbol of power as it was a place.  It's polished granite and metal shown in the sunlight as horrible and magnificent to behold as the Techomage Towers of Steamfont today." "Lucan D'Lere ruled through fear and propoganda.  Instilling in his people that the gods would not help them, that he was, infact, their god.  And it was his pride and arrogence that eventually brought him to his knees.  A combination of the forces of the Queen of Qeynos, for it was ruled then by a kind ruler, and not the Tyrant King, and the forces of Neriak."

[MysticTrunks01]

The little Tier'Dal girl's crimson eyes looked upon the lore teller and raised her hand into the air.  She wore a tight fighting black outfit of a stretchable material.  It was adorned with zippers, for the gnomes had recently perfected the techinology in the last century,  and had pockets and compartements through out.  Her hair was  a royal purple so dark it appeared black in anything but natural light. Acknowledging her with a nod, "Yes T'Rivala?" "Papa, but... I read that Tier'Dal always hated the Qeynosians too... why would they help them to defeat him?" The gathered children sat still as the older than old Tier'Dal continued, "The Queen of Neriak, Cristanos, was nearly as bad as Lucan D'Lere.  But there is an old saying in wars, "The enemy of my enemy, is my friend."  And after the Tier'Dal were removed from Freeport in the purge, the Tier'Dal wanted blood." T'Rivala, seemingly satisified with that, sat back down the metal tabs of the zippers making slight clinking sounds as they touched one another.  Continueding he spoke, his eyes distant as he did so, "The Fall of all great Empires is never one glorious mistake.  It is a series of unfortunate events that takes place over time, culminating in the distruction of an era, or regime.  And this was just as true with the Lich D'Lere." "He was a man stark white hair, pulled tight behind his head.  He had a scar across his face from some long ago battle.  His armor was raven black and seemed to be made of the Void itself, light almost being sucked into it.  He was a nightmare to behold.  When he was seen.  But this was one of his follies.  He was rarely seen." "Why was that, I'm sure some of you are asking, who's to say really.  Perhaps he thought himself better than that, ruling from on high in his Citadel.  Maybe, he feared his population as much as they feared him.  Maybe he had a never ending supply of bad fruits that kept him on the lue in a never ending life of pain and flushing, "he grinned as twelve little giggles decended upon the hillocke. "But never being seen, the people were allowed to grow wrestless.  Which began to tear at the city internally.  His other error was the Tier'Dal, as i mentioned.  Still more was his inability to keep the township fed, full citizens have little to complain of and are less likely to act up after all.  Likely, his most important mistake.  Was underestinmating the female Queen Antonia Bayle, while her bloodline has soured, in her age was the best ruler Norrath had." "When the citizens of Freeport grew restless and begain to fight against the power of Freeport, it's Militia and it's Knights of Freeport, they were repressed by force.  Excessively so.  The casualties were many... and it was this act of the poplace that forced Antonia's hand into action.  Ending the decades long Cold War between the cities.  She began to amass her armies under many generals and captains.  Even from fringe groups such as the Vagabond Knights and the even less likely Legacy of Honor, led by none other than an Ogre Paladin." Several of the children blinked in surprise and he nodded to reassure him, "Yes, even back then the Ogres had begun their seperation into ways outside of the ways or Rallos Zek.  But it was under these Captains and Generals that one of the greatest battles of that age would take place."

[niko_teen]

<p>Very good imagery there. I could see an old man looking so beraggled that on an off glace he might be a corpse. I likes, That and well I also like the concept of Another rending hitting the world. kinda like the wheel of time (Robert jorden) / comming of ages (J R R Tolkien) the whole continueous loop of one age leading into another then back to the begining again.</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

(Thank you for the kind word Niko  <img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> he old Tier'Dals violet eyes scanned over them, his fingers interlaced as he did so, except for the two pointer finger that tapped one another rythmically.  "There are a great manythings to prepair for when it comes to a war.  Most stories only get to the end of the battle.  When the final blow against the awesome foe is struck by the hero and the villian is removed once and for all!  However, I will not skip ahead to the end, nor I bore you, and myself, with the great details that went into this battle.  But I'll tell you the highlights.." He paused a long moment, building suspense and anticipation, "Antonia Bayle knew she could no longer stand by.  The time to act was upon them after the decades of allowing Lucan his attrocities.  She gathered the armies of Qeynos.  They planned out their attack in great detail.  The loses would be great but they had their objectives.  The captains were relayed each of their orders, to which I will get too, do not worry." "Meanwhile, in the caverns of Neriak Cristanos planned as well.  There was, a temporary alliance between the two ancient enemies of Neriak and Qeynos.  Most would say the Tier'Dal then would never align with the humans, elves, halflings and gnomes of Qeynos...  but Cristanos, as Tier'Dal tend to do, had plans.  Neriak wanted to expand it's influence again... and one evil empire in that land was enough.  For that reason, dispite the protests of her peoples, she would attack the Norther section of Freeport, while Bayles forced would attack from the south." With out raising her hand a a high elf girl of ten year old spoke up, "So, like, when does this stop being boring again, Papa?"  Her head tilted back and her voice annoyingly thick with the air of superiority. From two children down, a half-elf boy of nine with dark brown hair and eyes interjected in a tone that was annoyed and begging in a whine, " Yeah!  Come one Papa!  Get to the good stuff!  I wanna hear about them Freeporters gettin' their butts kicked into the ocean!"  He pumped the air with a fist in excitement. Cut off from his story suddenly, the weathered man looked upon each with a sharp eye, "To answer your question, Iskara and Preskiv, I'll be getting to it alot sooner if each of you would both raise your hands when you spoke, and get to the shutting up part in general." Each of them frowned slightly, though Iskara recovered first with a "humf" and crossed her arms as she looked away hottily.  Preskiv, undetered, continued, "That's bull!  Get to the good stuff Pap.. OW!" he cried out with a wince as a hand clobbered him on the top of the head. "No more out of you Preskiv, now be silent,"  the mans voice was stern and reprimanding.  Flexing his fingers he relaced them together.  "As I was saying, Freeport itself prepaired as best it could, but Lucan never foresaw an alliance of like had been forged.  His removal of the Tier'Dal and it's mistake obvious now, he tried to reason with Cristanos.  But all that was returned was the head of his messangers... and their entire guard."  The younger children gasped. "Finally though, after long preperations... the armies of Qeynos marched upon the Commons, seperated by miles from the armies of the Tier'Dal to the north.  Both armies poised for battle.. Lucan prepaired for the assualt.  The time had come for war and he had his work cut out for him."

[niko_teen]

<p>*grumps some crap about niko saying kind words. Kicks the author in the shins*</p><p>Next time I'll brek you knee caps... but no worries i wont mess withyou writting hand... so uh... keep writting while i wrestle with my own next scene</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

Freeport.  The dawn of the Battle of D'Lere. The streets of Freeport were absent of citizens.  By order of the Overlord, all non-esential fighting units were to remain in doors.  Anyone found outside would be considered a foe to the city of Freeport and dispatched on sight.  The militia patrolled the streets looking for signs of sabotage before the battle came from the waiting army outside her gates. A child-like figure dressed in a sold black body suit that clung to her athletic figure races silently along the walls of the great city.  None of this was visable though as over the small frame was a black cloak and over that, the straps hugging tightly to her chest was a sack that bumped and thudded against her back as she jumped up and over each of the indentions that marked the wall every thirty feet. The light was only just now coming over the horizon of the Ocean of Tears, it's tendrils of light licking the sides of building and reflecting back against the tightly shut windows of the city.  She checked her gnomish time piece and cursed in Faerlie, it had taken her long that she thought to get into the city and scale the walls unseen.  The sewers had been long ago shut off and barred, but the ancient sewers, the ones from before Lucans rule had been found with the help of the old ones that had lived from that day.  Ahead her objective came into view.  One of the power stations for the that held aloft the massive tonage of the Twilight Citadel above.  It would be heavily guarded and her success could make the fatalities of the gathered forces outside the city bareable.  Her failure, she shook her head to clear her mind and focus again at the task at hand. Leaping over the last of the protrutions, she skidded to a silent hault and crouched at the corner.  A giant focusing crystal the size of three ogres huddled together lay in an ornate sconce of faysteel and onyx stone.  The snake like tendril of thick pure mana, red as ruby gem, flowed upwards to the gathering point at the base of the Citadel.  Around it, was an assortment of guards, four of them and all of them human and humming with power. She took a calm breath and wiped away the bead of sweat that threatened to trickle down her forehead.  Slowly she removed her hood and black robe.  Her face had two scars.  One starting just between her thin eyebrows and crossing over her overlarge right copper colored eye and stopping at her cheek bone.  The other crossed that one starting above the far corner of her right eye and crossing over the eye and across the bridge of her nose ending at her right jawline.  Copper and white wings unfurred from the robe, the bag  resting at the small of her back between them. Her body tensed and she was gone with a speed that some say could rival that of the gods.  Thwip. Thwip.  Thwip. Was the only sound that was audible as three throwing needles, long thin and extremely sharp on each end, pieces of shiny steel rods no more than 2 milimeters thick and 7 inches long, pierced the throat of the guard with one. His voice box severed and placed into his air way he gasps for air suddenly, clutching his throat which only served to agrivate the wound as he forced the needle is deeper.  He tried to stumble to his partner. His partner to his right however, was already down on his back.  The other two throwing needles have found their way into the visor of the guard piercing through his eyeballs and digging deep into his brain.  He was dead before he hit the ground. Two guards down before she had landed.  One slippered food touched the ground, pushing off with a well muscled and trained leg and a thrust of her powerful wings and she was flying straight for the third guard, who was just now drawing his sword, like an arrow shot from hell.  Her foot flew outward kicking the top of the sword that was almost now unsheathed thrusting it back into it's place of holding.  The guard stunned by the attack, tried to draw the weapon again instead of shield himself.  It was his last mistake.  The final thing he heard was metal on metal as a katar stabbed through his armored chest and pierced his heart. He fell backwards, the tiny fae holding the katars handle like a bridle as she rode the body to the ground,  her copper eyes held fast upon her remaining target.  As the body slammed into the ground she lunged at him with the bounce of the body to propell her forward.  He was prepaired though, it was amazing enough to him as it was three Lucanic Knights had fallen in no more than ten second, but now it was over. Drawing upon his inner magics he had let loose a ball of magic that flew now at his former comrade and his tiny executioner.  His aim was true and half way between the space that seperated them, the magic collided and detonated against the Fae's body.  She flew off course to his right and landed with a loud THUD as her body smashed into the floor, smoking and still. The remaining guard smirked, not one to take chances he gathered another ball of magic to his hand, "I'm not going to take a chance with you... if you aren't dead now, you will be."   Thrusting forth his palm the blue ball of energy loosed and flew at her.  In the blink of an eye between leaving his hand and detonating against her smoking body, the Fae was on her knee's holding out her hands infront of her, they glowed with a fierce green energy as brilliant and alive as the most lusterous tree's in the whole of Norrath and it's Plains.  Shouting a word in the ancient Tunarian language, "Vaeraes!"  The bold of magic sparked bluegreen against the shield and reflect back at it's orgin.  The guard died with a look of shock and horror, his mind having only enough time to register his dead was at hand before it's embrace took him. The Fae got to her feet the rest of the way, the green magic fading from her hands, her breath coming heavily from the exersion.  Wobbling on her feet slightly, she removed her bag from her back.  She had only moments before reinforcements would come at the shouting and noise.  Removing from it a small metalic clockwork box.  She placed the metal key into a small recess with in it and twisted it counter clockwise twice.  Then, carefully, she placed the gnomish bomb beneath the focusing crystal that hummed infront of her. Tiredly, she slumped against the crystal.  She did not have the energy to scale the wall.  She had sealed her fate to accomplish the mission.  She would never see her family again, but she was not afraid or sad.  She knew that her victory would save many lives in it's distraction and it's worth at helping to tople the power structure of Freeport. She had begun to closer her eyes when a sharp whistle from the wall above caught her attention.  A slender and dark figure holding a bow was there on the wall forty feet above.  An arrow shot from that bow and tied to it, was a thin strand of spider silk rope.  The arrow clanked into the ground next to the rust colored Fae.  With out having to be prompted she grabed the arrow and, putting the robe between her legs, sat upon the arrow like an old swing as the slender figure began quickly pulling her up the wall, walking up it with her feet  to assist. In mear seconds she reached the pinacle and came over the edge.  A Tier'Dal Ranger stood before her clad in black chainlink armor, her own face scared across the nose from some centuries old battle.  The Fae smirked, "Thank you Shard-Wolf."  The Tier'Dal only grunted and jerked her head.  The fae nodded and both ran along the wall and away. As the guards below streamed into the alcove that housed the crystal and saw their dead comrades they were baffled, but only for seconds as a blinding flash of light and heat exploded beneath the crystal.  It shattered and sprayed in all directions tearing and ripping at the guards.  With it's energy released suddenly, a second larger explosion shook the entire city of Freeport.  A fireball rolled up lazily above the city, the boom heard for miles and that boom, signaling the start armies of Qeynos and Neriak, to march upon the city.  "And that children.  Is how Little Tiger, a Fae from Kelethin, began the Battle of D'Lere," the weathered old Tier'Dal story teller had glint of pride in his eyes and his mouth pulled into a small smile. (Happy Birthday Yunfei, Thank you for your friendship and all the hours of Roleplay)

[MysticTrunks01]

Clasping his rough and calouse hands infront of him the old man asked, "Does anyone know what happened next?" His violet eyes scanned the area for any raised hands but all that came back to him were a bunch of shaking heads and one bored expression.  Sighing he continued, "The battle began.  The armies collided along the gates of Freeport and the sounds of battle rang out across the Common Lands now that their signal to begin hand sounded within the city and one of the tendrils of magic stopped climbing to the Citadel." "Sadly though, it had not desturbed the soldiers of Freeport as much as they had hoped.  It did not through them into disarray or destroy their resolve.  Unknown to the forces againt the Overlord, he had many powerful mind benders through out the ranks of soldiers.  Utterly loyal to him, controling and washing away the fear of the men.  They fought like animals." "Queen Antonia was dismayed as she watched her forces, even though they had vastly superior numbers with the Tier'Dal, continue to be repelled and pushed back.  She spoke from attop her white war horse, a company of men and guards surrounding her.  Her voice was firm and strong and carried no hint of second guessing her split second decisions, 'General Givardi, I want you to take a team of people into the city through the underground passage the Little Tiger used, take the Wizard Squad Six with you.  Take down that tower."  "General Givardi saluted crisply, he was a sever looking human man with tan leathery skin, his armor was a smoke gray that did not glint or shine in the sun for it was dull and unpolished. 'As you wish my Queen, it will be done.'  And he was gone putting together the squad he was commanded too.  The queen looked to a small Ratonga with mottled brown and white fur.  An eye patch over one eye and a spicy scented cigarello clutched firmly between his furry muzzle.  "Captain Spindel, it's time we put you and your group to use.  There are Coercers amoung the Freeport Army, it's the only explination for their determination and ability to continue even when wounded.  Find them and report their locations.  You know what to look for.  Eyes unfocused, not fighting, very likely hanging to the back of the men they are to rule over." "Spindel spat his cigarello stump onto the ground and nodded his voice decidedly stronger than his small body would seem to command, "Ain't nothin' we can't handle."

[SilverclawII]

<p>I'm wondering if I have just way too much free time on my hands today...ah well.  Not complaining.</p><p>This story made me smile.  Largely because it comes from the home server and I recognize the guild names and a character here and there.  I love the setting of the old storyteller from our present day Norrath telling what's to be our future.</p><p>A few of the usual typos, but as I say, they're nothing to fret about unless you really want me to.</p><p>If you're looking for an additional guild to throw some more discourse in the Freeport interior, might I suggest my own guild, the Arcadian Exiles?  Very much possible since I know that we're in league with the Vagabond Knights.  Spindel may be able to give you more details, if you'd like to investigate that path.</p><p>All in all, a very fine story that implements roleplaying characters from actual gameplay with a little bit of author's license thrown in.  Tell us more of Norrath's future.  I'm very much interested in hearing more on how "Lich D'Lere" (That your own name for him or is it mentioned somewhere in the game?  Either way I love it. :thumbup<img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> gets kicked off his throne.</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

(Yes I'm sure there are plenty of spelling errors, but I don't actually have a spell check installed or MS word, so i'm sort of freehanding it and just doing my best ^^  Thank you for the kind words.  Most of the cameo's are just for fun for my friends that I RP and talk with  and put them in a support role. I'm hoping to keep the majority of the stuff to made up characters that actually do the world changing stuff ^^  ) "And so," the old man said letting out a breath, "They all went about their asigned dut..." He stopped talking as hand shot up, it's owner bopping up and down on their rump as they tried to get his attention with an "oh.. ohoh! OH!"  Slightly annoyed by another interuption, "Yes, Preskiv, what is it now?" Preskiv got to his feet.  His slightly pointed ears the mark of his half blood and his wild hair the other reminder of his wood elf parentage on one side.  "I heard o' General Givardi!"  He grinned proudly at what he apparently considered, a massive wealth of knowledge. The old story teller stared at him with a flat deadpan expression for a long moment.  The moment stretched into the range of uncomfortable as his chin was placed in his hand, the elbow balanced on a knee.  He tapped his cheek with a white eyebrow raising slightly as his violet eyes stared at the boy. Slowly Preskiv grew uneasy and fidgeted under the stare and sad back down, "Thank you.  And I'm sure everyone is vastly impressed with your knowledge Preskiv... But impress them afterwards." Shaking his head and repressing the urge to roll his eyes he continued, "General Gavardi and his squadron set out from the main group.  A contigent of six fighter and six wizards of various skills.  All of them some of the best in their fields.  The hurried on foot quickly skirting the battles and made their way south to the ancient hole in the ground that had long ago served as a rogues entrance to the city via the underground sewer systems." "General Gavardi led them in, looking to the Wizard's commander, a snooty looking high elf, who was not like the wizards he commanded.  Even though he looked like he believed himself above others, he was actually the more humble of wizards.  Most wizards of course, then and now, thought themselves the pinacle of all things." Brittle snorted.  She was a gnomish girl around six year old, with short white hair cut close to her head but still managing to make her look like a cute little girl.  Though as cute as she was, she was a Techomage and from a family of great Technomages.  She also had the overconfidence and self esteeme that implied.  "Wizards of that time, please," she huffed" He grinned, "Brittle, while the methods have improved... it appears something never change."  He chuckled, she snorted.

[AvalonSpirit]

<p>nice depth and your testing a difficult perspective angle for story telling, but its holding very nicely so far.  </p><p>/em giggles while mumbling something about technomages</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p>Ah, good!  Fresh meat!</p><p>The children's interruptions and comments are colorful descriptions and go very well with the setting.  I'm as interested in hearing what they'll say next as I am in hearing how the battle will progress.</p><p>Do keep writing!</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

"General Givardi peered over the top of the street from the ancient sewer hole.  The agent from Kelethin that had come to sabotage the focusing crystal had already cleared the hole of the street that had been paved over it.  Luck was with the General and his squad for no one had yet found the entry point and it came out into an area that was far from the main streets and patrols.  Infact it opened directly into a dead end alley. " "He sank back below the street and motioned with his hand silently letting the rest know the area was clear.  He climbed back down and allowed one of the wizards to go up first.  The elf climbed quickly making the street with the grace that even elves that sit studying all day still poses.  He motioned with his hands and muttered an incantation.  As the spell progressed, his eyes and senses began to take in the entire ally. " "The cracks in the stone.  The soft light that reflected off a nearby window and painted a mirror image in white upon the ground.  The little tufts of weeds that grew from a clump of dirt between the building and street.  All of this was taken in and with a finishing words, he projected this image to the entry way of the ally.  Minus, one giant hole and dibris around it.  For anyone passing by, they would see only an empty ally. "'The illusion is in place General, the others may come up now,' The elf said with a confident nod and serious tone." Brittle's jaw was agape slightly, amazed that suck a primitive form of magic could accomplish such a feet in such detail.  Especially under combat conditions.    The man continued, "The squad clammered out one at a time up the narrow hole until they were all out of the unused sewer." "'Alright people, ' The General Givardi's voice echod slightly as he spoke from inside his helm. 'There are seven crystals in all that power the levitation device used in the Citadel.  One of them is already down.  The Queens told us to take down the rest.  It's not possible for us to take down over half needed to do that... so.  I need to know, Commander Siveri.  Are you and your mage squad able to ... I don't know, infest, the others?  Sabotage them through just one?"

[MysticTrunks01]

He continued, "The mages looked about at one another as the soldiers spread out through the ally into position.  Siviri furrowed his brow, his eyes unfocusing in thought as he mulled over the question a long moment.  The other mages muttered idea's.  'Perhaps we can split up and take them down each, there's no way we can sabotage them all from a single crystal.  We need only take out three more of them to collapse the Citadel.  We surmized long ago the other three were redundant backups,' one said." "Givardi shook his head as he played through the scenario in his mind.  Seperating them three teams of four with two mages and two soldiers each.  The element of surprise was already gone with the battle waging outside and the Kelethin agents destruction.  No matter how good they were, it would not work.  Striking down the idea, "No, we can not seperate our force to that extent.  That would be a catastrophic failure of our operation.'  Givardi's steely eyes looked to Siviri who's concentration was so deep he did not even hear this people to rebuke or silence them." 'Commander," the General questioned. "Finally after another long moments silence Commander Siviri nodded as his eyes refocused to look upon the General.  'It will be extremely complicated and it will require a..." "Yes or no Commander,' Givardi cut off" "The commander nodded, though his expression was annoyed and irritable something he couldn't keep from his voice as he answered, 'Fine.  Yes, General I believe it is possible,'" "'Excellent....  Alright then, we'll move from here to the nearest one.  We'll be as stealth as possible but that won't last long.  How much time will you need once we get there?" "'About ten minutes... maybe longer.  Nothing like this has been attempted before.'" "Givardi frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead rubbing together in canyons of skin, 'People... We'll move fast... and secure the site as best we can to give the mages the time we need.  Alright... Lets go."

[SilverclawII]

<p>/em whistles <i>London Bridges are Falling Down!</i></p><p>Uh, oh! <img src="/smilies/385970365b8ed7503b4294502a458efa.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />  Lyrics...forming...can't...resist...writing.  Drat!  Now I've tweaked a second nursery rhyme to fit with the world of Norrath.  Thanks a lot for the inspiration.  No seriously, thank you.  I think I'll post this little ditties that keep popping into my head.  Maybe a can get a few stuck in everyone else's mind as well. <img src="/smilies/908627bbe5e9f6a080977db8c365caff.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p><p>/em grins at Brittle's expression. <img src="/smilies/97ada74b88049a6d50a6ed40898a03d7.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p><p>Expressions are good, too.  Good use of magic for subtrefuge and descent military speak.  Short, but a nice bit and ends with a nice hook.  Keep writing and I'll keep reading...and tweaking nursery rhymes...<img src="/smilies/49869fe8223507d7223db3451e5321aa.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p>

[MysticTrunks01]

"As General Givardi and his troops move out, back at the main battle..." The air in the semi-circle exhailed in annoyance and a muttering rumble grew from the children.  Twenty-two eyes of every shape, size and color, scowled at him with the venom of a nest of snakes.  "Comes on Papa!!!  NO!  Tell us what Givardiddi did!!!," Elesia squeeked in expasperation, her pink eyes nearly meeting her angry wrinkled nose.  Were she not so adorable at that very moment, he might have been mad at their interuptions and dismissal of the rules. Patting the air with his hands gesturing for them to all calm down they slowly become a dull murmer instead of an annoying torrent.  "Children.. Children... Come now.. I'll get back to General Givardi soon enough, for his tale is that of legendary heroes.  Even still, I must tell you what is happening at the main battle... for foul betrayal was about to take place."  That shut them up. "There now.  Back in the Commonlands the battle had grown to a fevored pitch.  Thanks to Captain Spindel and his group of what what he called "Vagabond Knights" they had located several of the mind benders and dispatched them.  Strong as they are and bending wills, their thicker than most heads could not stop an arrow from penetrating their skull.  Now over a dozen had fallen, and the cohesion of the Freeport army began to crumble." "The Qeynosian and Neriak forces had broken through on several fronts.  One such front was nearly to the gates of West Freeport.  Which then was the main entrance to the city aside from the sea.  A giant gate as tall as seven men and surrounded by giant red stones.  Not a bright red, it was more like death red, the sort of red one sees from blood that has dried." Several of the kinder hearted children made faces.  The others and sneered or rolled their eyes at the first groups reactions.  "So, the combined armies had the upper hand.  The Queen knew too that her General was at this moment working inwardly to defeat the symbol of Freeport and Lucans power.  It was at this time the Queen of Neriak, Cristano's decided to play out her true nature as a Tier'Dal." "A frazzle haired gnome ran up to Queen Bayle gasping, 'Maj.. maj... m.m..' he stammered as he gulped for air.  'The Tier'Dal.. they.. they're RETREATING!  Our army will be outnumbered and outflanked!"

[MysticTrunks01]

"The Queen's pencil then eyebrows knitted together as her brow furrowed and she nodded slowly.  Her advisors where looking to her for orders.  Their faces of horror at the revilation and of anger at the betrayal.  Queen Bayle's face however softened and she nodded.  'Very well, tell our forces not to try to stop them.  Let Neriak scurry back into it's hole, let that fool Queen Cristanos believe herself once again victorious in her betrayals.  It will be no different than her betrayal at Faydark all those centuries ago.'" "The gathered around her gasped and one advisor spoke up.  A human male who's pasty white skin clashed with the navy blue of his robes of state.  'Majesty!  We have to move our forces or Freeport will outflank us!  We'll be crushed by the forces coming out through the Orc Death Field to the North! I insist that you..'" "The funny thing about Queens," the story teller added, "Is while they can be kind and caring rules.  You never want to [Removed for Content] one off.  A lesson this young human learned at that moment as he was silence by a icey glare that would have made a raging dragon stop in it's place and flee back to the wings of Veeshan for comfort.  That ice carried to her voice under tight control, 'Do not dare to insist anything.  You will do as I command or you will be removed and placed in the dungeon for insubordination during times of war!'  She held the mans eyes and he flintched turning away with a nod. "'Yes, Highness, right away.'' "She nodded as he began to turn from her to relay the orders to the field commanders, "Also... Should field commanders think as you did... reassure them, our reinforcements for the Norther flank will be here soon."  He paused with a confused look, before finally nodding and rushing away. "She turned to the near by mages and nodded, 'It's time, send the signal.'  The mages nodded.  They were there not just for combat, but they helped to relay orders via signals and symbols cast high into the air.  A form of instant communication with people when broad orders were to be given.  Not as specific as a runner, but still very effective.  At that moment three of them gathered in a triangular formation.  Each of the three putting their hands into the air, fingers spread wide.  Thumbs touching and the pinkys fingers touching the pinkys of the mage next to them to form a triangle of spread fingers." "Each called forth their arcane magics from within, their hands crackled with power and energy.  A solid beam of violet light shot into the air high above the battle.  It's glow filled the air about the command post climbing over three miles into the sky.  It held their for a solid minute, a shaft of light solid light, before it slowly faded and the mages nodded to their Queen." He leaned forward as though he was about to tell a secret, "And do you children know why?"  They all shook their heads leaning in with him afraid they might miss something.  "Because at that very moment a dwarf on a boat in the Ocean of Tears just North of the Commonlands turned to his crew,"  the story tellers voice took on a thick dwarvish accent and he yelled his next line, drawing startled jumps from the children.  He squinded one eye, "AVAST YE DOGS!  Pull ancor and get some wind in dem sails! Relay to the rest of the fleet we're runnin' ashore!  WE'RE GOIN' TA BATTLE!  ARRAARRRRR!!!!!" "As well to the East of Freeport a human female captain, tanned and leather faced but still beautiful for her age, Fleet Admiral and Captain of the Far Journey II battle class assualt boat, turned to her crew  Captain Ingrd called , 'Mr.Smithers!  Relay to the rest of the fleet, our strafing runs are to begin immediately!'  Behind each the dwarf and human captains was a fleet of Fifteen ships a piece, all with a compliment of soldiers ready to take the place of the Tier'Dal army."

[valkry]

Woot! Ingrd made Fleet Admiral! Wetting down party! (for non-sailors a wetting down was when alcohol was poured over a new rank emblem to 'age' it to match the old uniform, and evolved into the newly promoted buying drinks for friends/coworkers).

[niko_teen]

<p>Ack we have another squid on the boards?<img src="/smilies/0320a00cb4bb5629ab9fc2bc1fcc4e9e.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> I do have to appologise that i am not caught up on the story as to now. It's not for a lack of intrest more that pretty much everythign is being shuffeled around to accomdiate RL. RL sucks.</p><p>Hmm they should make a T-shirt something along that line to go with my luclin T-[Removed for Content], my 'Stupid Green Mobs' shirt and EQ2 respective T.</p><p>But that is beside the point. Attention to detail is what seperates a story from a truely great tale. I'll be getting around to getting caught up at some point here. But don't let that slow you down. <img src="/smilies/e8a506dc4ad763aca51bec4ca7dc8560.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p>

[SilverclawII]

<p><Chuckles></p><p>Nice hook!  I was whining along with the children at the change of scenery, and don't you just love those old storytellers' talent to change characters on the whim?</p><p>Very nice addition.</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

"So children...," he stood with his back popping, a slight wince of the eye at the pain of it, then the relaxed expression that comes from the relief of pressure in his spine leaving him.  He paced around the circle of kids, walking in front of and behind them, forcing their heads crane and twists as he spoke.  "Who here can guess why the Queen of Qeynos, apparently already knowing she had a fleet and soldiers that could fight waiting at sea, would have allied even temporarily with the Dark Elf Queen." They all looked serious for a moment.  Bitting their lips or some tapping a part of their face, like a cheek, chin, or forehead in the exagerated fashion young children do to make sure the adult knows they are indeed trying to think.  The hand of Jargo, a half elf boy who was sloppy looking.  His hair was cut with nothing more than his parents putting a bowl on top of his head and cutting around the edges.  He stammered a bit as he spoke. "'Cause sh.. she was a good guesser and.. and she .. umm.... Thought that maybe they would stay to help?  Cause... they are not all bad."  He looked to T'Rivala for confirmation that he was right instead of the story teller.  T'Rivala only rolled her eyes at him with that look that showed she clearly felt he was an idiot and once again had been completely wrong about something.  When her crimson eyes stopped rolling she spoke up, "No, [Removed for Content].  The Tier'Dal then were even less friendly than they are now."  She looked back up to the Tier'Dal who had paused behind and between the two of them with his arms clasped behind his back, his disheviled black robes fighting for space around his legs in the cool floral scented breeze.  "Papa, she did that because it is better to know where one of your enemies is at all time.  She could not chance that D'Lere would some how manage to get the Tier'Dal in on his side and ambush or out flank the Qeynosian army." He nodded approvingly as she continued, "It seems to me. That she..." Raising a hand he interrupted, "Actually.. the plan we speak of was General Givardi's he was a tactical genius in his day.  But continue.." Unfazed she continued with a nod of her royal violet hair, "General Givardi then.  It seems to me, that it was choice between knowing where your enemy is an expecting their betrayal to come and having them possibly take you out.  The Tier'Dal felt angered and slighted after their exodus from Freeport.  Even though Neriak would likely not have taken anyone that did not swear loyalty to Queen Cristanos.  Tier'Dal are proud.  To be rejected, let alone by a mere human would likely have them festering in their hate." "So it would be far easier for Qeynos to get them to aid that.  But they know the Tier'Dal well enough to understand the simple truth.  Neriak could serve itself by leaving at a tactically inopertune time and thus, the forces of both Qeynos and Freeport would be devistated in the battle, thus leaving the left overs for a clear victory by the Neriak forces.  However, knowing this, General Givardi sent ahead to gained the forces of the Dwarves, Elves and Fae of Faydwar to fill that gap after Neriak left.   Giving the Qeynosian side, a brand new fighting force that was not tired.  Thus, smashing the morale of the Freeporters while boosting that of Qeynos.  Along that line, it would also prevent the Tier'Dal from attacking after, knowing that the numbers would not favor them.  Likely making them continue their retreat home satisfied that Freeport and D'Lere would be usurped." "I have to say, T'Rivala.  I'm impressed, you came up with all that just by hearing my words?" She snorted and shook her head.  "No Papa, I already read this part in General Givardi's Tactics of War."  The story tellers face went flat, his long ears drooping slightly and in a rather deadpan monotone he said, "Remind me never to let you speak out of turn again..."

[MysticTrunks01]

(I just noticed the post above this one did not copy completely so i placed the remainder of that story in there.  Not sure why it did that but there you have it ) "Lets see where where we?... ah yes." "'Mr.Smithers!,' Captain Ingrid shouted, 'Signal boat two through five to fall in line behind us!  The remaining ten shall off load their troops as soon as we finish out strafing run along the  Freeport Bays defenses.  We'll circle around and disembark after that!'" "Her crew was a well oiled machine aboard the Far Journey II.  As I mentioned, it was the the first Qeynosian battle class assault boat.  It was constructed in conjunction with the gnomes.  It turns out, when the gnomes were tempered with reason and a good bit of wariness, they could create massive and destructive devices.  Infact, it was this first joining of such a thing, that over the centuries would lead to the Technomage Wars later." Brittle nodded in agreement, her white fluff of hair rocking with her.  He continued, "The boat for it's time was the largest ever constructed. It spanned over three hundred feed from aft to stern.  It was mostly made of wood, but that had been enchanted by the elves and Fae.  The gnomes had reinforced it with a new lightweight Faysteel alloy for some protection.  But the cannons.  The cannons, children, are where she turned from a ship of amazing craftsmanship to a nightmare of the sea.  And every boat in Captain Ingrids command was an exact replica of their prototype sister ship." "Each side of her carried thirty, so sixty total, Class Two Faysteel Alloy cannons.  Light weight and terribly powerful, the only down side to them was they were still no more accurate than any other canon technology of the day.  Thus... making what happened next a possibly the saddest part of any war.  Yet, still necessary.  Civilian casualties." "The Far Journey II raced along the port.  It began.  Freeport dock side defenses were fired.  THUMP!  Rang out over the bay as it vomited it's arsenal at the attacking ships.  The Militia men running about giving orders and reloading the powders and canon balls.  Most of them fell far to short.  The sheer size of the oncoming boats had skewed the perspective of the canon squad of Freeport.  Due to the size, there eye saw them as much closer than they actually were and thus... fired far to soon." "'FIRE AT WILL!!!!!,'  Captain Ingrid bellowed, her black head wraps tails flapping in the gusting winds.  Her red gold hair braided down her back which was covered in dark brown leathers.  The Far Journey II shuttered.  The canons did not all fire at once, for there was a very real posibility that such a thing could capsize the boat.  She let go of her canons in a alternating pattern.  Her Iron payload hitting Freeport like the hammer of some mighty god." "The dock was obliterated in second.  Men and machines.   Bone and wood.  Shattered.  The second boat came.  The buildings and home along side the dock were utterly destroyed.  Stone and mortar vanished.  Homes.  Trinkets and centuries old family heirlooms.  Men, women, children....  All gone." The children's faces grew angry and dower, "Children..  I understand it is upsetting that so many innocent must pay for the doings of their overlord.  In his rule though, and the continued rule, thousands upon thousands more would have perished.  Already had perished.  Captain Ingrid did her best to minimize the damage but the Qeynosians knew full well.. that inside many of those houses lay Freeport Militia men waiting for their land fall.  Like cowards hiding among the women and children.  It gave them no option.  In War... the lives of a small hand full, for thousands is an acceptable loss.  One that is never made by any leader easily." "The five boats passed now.  The port clear, save for the rubble and bodies.  The remaining ten docked and it's soldiers flooded the streets of Freeport.  When a blinding flash lit up the sky at the center of the city..."

[MysticTrunks01]

The Iksar boy around age 10 blinked his overlarge reptilian eyes.  He was a head taller than the other children.  His gray scales speckled with black shimmered in the light coming through the canopy high above.  He spoke in a throaty rasping whisper, "What wassss it Papa? Wasss, it Lucan?" Smirking the aged man winked and put his violet and worn finger in the air, "Patience dear Thiskra, patience... I'm just getting to that.  So as the attack was commencing upon the docks, just after Antonia Bayle learned of the Dark Elf treachery, General Givardi's squad made it's way through the city of Freeport as silently as twelve men and women could.  They made their way to through the streets and back alleys.  A time or two one of the soldiers, a trained assassin who had long ago given up the bulky armor for her skin tight leathers and stealth, was forced to dispatch a guard." "The wizard commander, his back pressed to the wall while the scout looked around the next corner, spoke quietly to the General, 'I don't like this sir, it's far to quiet within the city.'" "The General frowned beneath his helm and nodded, "I agree Commander.  It means only one of three things.  They have had to divert guards to the battle out front.  The forces Lucan has at his disposal are far less than our intel lead us to believe.  Or, the guards are diverted to the remaining powering crystals for the citadel.  Given the fact that by now likely the idiotic Tier's have abandoned us to suffer casualties, the first option is unlikely.  Our intel being is possible but given the Forces amassed outside the city highly unlikely.  Leaving the third... We are going to have a hell of a fight when we reach the station.  Securing and holding it will be even more difficult." "The scout waved them forward.  Moving as a single entity the group advanced around the corner, the wizards robes making only the faintest of swishing noise which was nothing compared to the must loud metal clank and [Removed for Content] of the armored soldiers.  The commander had a thoughtful scowl upon his face as they moved and thought inwardly, 'There is little chance of us surviving this....  It's a suicide mission.'  His mind went to his beloved wife, back in Qeynos with their daughter of two.  Her chubby cheeks, her rosy nose.  Blond tufts of hair the hung in curls about her crown.  The musical giggle when something surprised her and those deep blue inquisitive eyes, just like her mothers." "The minds of all the soldiers were coming to this same conclusion.  The General made his way forward and infront of them, stood the enormous gates to the inner sanctum of Lucan's dreaded palace.  Beyond that, lay their deaths, and with that the possible life of all they hold dear..."

[MysticTrunks01]

The clash of metal upon metal rang in his ears.  Reverberated through his bones from his hands, sweaty and gripping the hilt of his sword, to the bottoms of his booted feet.  The General of the Qeynos Military had never fought so hard in a life time of his career to the Queen.  A dozen of his best, squared against a dozen the Lucanic Knights, Freeports best. He parried and thrust, his mind giving control to the body's natural reflexes.  The the eyes ability to see and compute surroundings before the conscious mind could comprehend what had happened.  Pivot, thrust, parry, block.   Dodging to his left and ducking low just as a gust of arcane magic sparks by his helm, landing in the face of his opponent.  The Freeporters were good, annoyingly good, but at least with the ones they fought now.  They had not trained together to move as one and think as one as the soldiers and mages that the General had with him. A scream from his left, one of his men?  He could not look for another Lucanic Knight had risen where the last had been felled.  Swinging down in a strong over head thrust, "Commander!  Magic those entry ways shut!" Some where in the thrall of combat came a, "SIR!", confirming the command was heard and was being carried out or already had been.  An elbow to he side of his helm and the taste of hot copper in his mouth brought him fully to bare.  A kick to the stomach of his rival, a risky move, for the leg can be easily chopped at, but it was worth the risk.  The man doubled over leaving the back of his skull bare, a flash of steel later, and the skull was filled with the glowing runes of his sword. He whirled to the next man... only to find there was the familiar face of the Assassin scout staring back at him.  "All clear General, for now."  Nodding, he looked to the crystal that powered out the magic that supplied the Twilight Citadel with it's needed resource to stay aloft. "Commander, you and your mages do what you must we'll hold them back."  The confirmation came and they began their set up.  As they did, he scanned the room and cursed.  Six points of entry into a room that had to be 50 meters round.  The stone walls were high and from the look of things no murder holes existed, but that was something easily concealed.  He knew if a group of Freeporters sieged Castle Qeynos, they'd have a surprise of that sort waiting for them from hidden passages in the walls of the Keep. "Alright... there's only enough for each of us to guard one entry way.  The barriers will go down as soon as the mages start their work.  It'll be up to us to keep them from being touched until then."  He sighed at a corner, where a robed and crumpled figure lay bleeding, eyes open but devoid of life.  "And they are down to only five mages... we can't afford to lose anymore.  It's all or nothing people." He raised the blue runed claymore high into the air and called, "For Qeynos!!!"  The clatter and clank of swords on his as the call was shouted from the remaining eleven, "FOR QEYNOS!!!!"

[SilverclawII]

The General may be a paladin, but he's still an Ogre. Tactful and experienced in the art of his creator. No offense meant to the good general. The children of Zek are quite a force, no matter which side their on. I'm glad this one's for my home city. Still reading; still enjoying it.

[MysticTrunks01]

^_^  Thanks, always good to know i'm not the only one reading them <img src="/smilies/69934afc394145350659cd7add244ca9.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />

[valkry]

/delurk Still here, still adoring your style. /lurk on

[niko_teen]

I've fallen behind and need to get caught up but you've still got my intrest even if I'm not caught up ATM

[MysticTrunks01]

"For QEYNOS!"  The old Tier'Dal shouted as he told the story, thrusting his arm upward as though an imaginary sword was there.  He stood as he did so, the children watching him act it out, until he stopped suddenly.  His brow become low and then his face screwed up slightly. "uhh.. Papa?"  A few of the kids asked with concern.   He just stood there, arm raised to the heavens, mouth slightly open.  Were someone to pass-by the grassy hill they might wonder as to what eleven children were doing around such a remarkable statue for as still as he was. Elesia, the little Fae, asked in a shaking voice, her bottom lip quivering, "i... Is.. he .. is he dead?" The Dark Elf child T'Rivala replied, "No of course not stupid...  I think he's been placed under a spell.  Petrified perhaps?"  She looked to the Iksar Thiskara inquisitively, he only shrugged.  "You're such a big help Thisk." Gringera, the wood elf girl with the sandy hair got to her feet, brushing the grass off her hands as she went to the story teller.  She stalked right up to  and under him, got onto her tippy toes and looked into his eyes.  The violet eyes shifted to look down at her and she shrieked, falling backwards with a thump.  "OW!" She rubbed her rump.  "I think he hurt himself.  My dad has a bad back too, and Papa here is so old mom and dad say he's ancient.  So he has to has a bad back." T'Rivala wrinkled her nose, annoyed she didn't think of that.  "Well yea, there is that.  So what do we do?" In a blur of black hair and slightly pointy ears, Preskiv shot by them all, hopped onto the stone statue the old man was using for a bench and raised his hand, proclaming, "I know how to fix him!" As his hand came down the other ten children shouted and lunged at him in unison, "NOOO!!!"  It was to late, his hand smack with a loud CRACK! against the Tier'Dal's lower back. "GAARAARRRHHHHHHH!!!!", he cried!  The scream echoing through out the Faydark.  Something grinded and then popped into place.  The look on the old man went from pain unimaginable to pure elation as his back snapped into alignment.   Unfortunately, Preskiv didn't see this and brought his hand up to slap at him again.  As his hand fell, the purple wrinkled fingers and a scarred left palm, wrapped around his wrist.  "Thank you, Preskiv...  But once was enough.  E'gads boy, you should look into getting a job with the orcs for prisoner torture." He lifted the little half-elf off his sitting statue and lowered him to the ground with the others.  "Still, thank you child.... even if your approach at medicine is rather unorthidox."  He grinned at the youth russling his hair.  The man sat, carefully, testing his back.  Assured all was okay, he motioned for the rest of the children to sit. "Ok, ok, settle down.  I think i'll skip the physical theatrics for today, now lets continue..."

[SilverclawII]

<p><Tries to keep from laughing so his coworkers don't think he's crazy.></p><p>I like.  You have a way with sounds and screams. <img src="/smilies/e8a506dc4ad763aca51bec4ca7dc8560.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p>

[MysticTrunks01]

"The six Qeynos Royal Guards took positions around the circular room that opened up into the skies above.  The bottom of the Twilight Citadel's massive structure stood above them like a sentinel, its massive weight seeming to push down upon them, blanketing the area in shadow as the sun had passed just behind it's top most spire. The five remaining mages gathered about the Focusing Crystal, Commander Siveri barking his orders, "Ovanis, Tyrinu... you two opposite me on the other side.  Limtrid, Ymandil... flank me on either side."  Each of them nodded and did as instructed creating five individual points around the giant Crystal.  "We've lots Jumala, so this will require every thing we have.  Pull no stops.  Hold. Back. Nothing." Siveri lowered his head taking in a deep breath of stale Freeport air.  He hated this city and everything about it, but now was not the time for such fleeting thoughts, he had to focus.  He spread out his hands on either side of him.  Everything awash in the death glow of red energy pulsing from the crystal, painting everything more so with the absence of direct sunlight.  "We must pool our energies... Gather into each of you all the arcane magics you can.  Then hold it.  Begin!" He himself tapped into the small place inside his chest.  The place were matter and energy mixed and mingled.  Where one converted to the other and back.  In the drawing of all magics there are barriers to overcome children.  Some of you have learned this, others maybe never will.  Commander Siveri released the first barrier, allowing the arcane magic that make up everything.  You, me, the greatest of Tunares tree's, right down to really small rocks.  Magic that forms the very word of Norrath itself. This flooded into Siveri and his counterparts.  The universe seemed to open up to him, and yet... he had only just begun to gather a small percentile of the magic that would be needed, when the armored boots and shouts of Freeport Militia were heard coming in their direction from all six passage ways.

[SilverclawII]

<p><Chuckles> At first I thought "What's Jumala?" then it clicked that they had lost a member of the party.</p><p>Every time I hope your next piece will relieve some of my suspense, it just adds some more.  That's good writing in my opinion.</p><p>My thoughts for the end became, "Please don't be martyrs! Please don't be martyrs! Please don't be martyrs!"</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

"CRACK! The sound of bone and cartilage snapping rang through the air as a armored fist back handed the guard that had rushed at the Qeynosian.  The sounds and echoed in the chamber mixing with the sounds of chanting as the mages gathered more arcane magics into their bodies.  The General and his men and women were holding off the Freeport forces just barely.  Their only advantage thus far was that that Freeport Militia was coming in at seperate times allowing the Qeynosians to lend aid to one another when no one was coming down their corridor allowing for flanking and many deaths by stabbing in the back.  Not the most honorable tactic of battle, but when it came to the battle before them honor had to take a back saddle to reason and tactics. Slowly the bodies of Freeport Militiamen began to pile around the entry ways the Qeynosian warriors muscles ached and burned with the continued exertion and frenzied pace of the battle.  Cuts and wounds beginning to mount and take their toll, and still they fought. Behind them Commander Siveri burned.  Every cell in his body was saturated with mana.  Before him the universe opened.  Planets and stars he had never dreamed of and distances so vast he felt as though he would be swepted away i the extrasensory preception like a nothing more than a leave in the raging torrent of a typhoon.  Still more magic flowed into his elven frame, to a point that few had ever reached and survived.  Will and determination kept him in his physical body, kept him from being pulled into the ether that made the universe and taken out of himself and into the vast nothings of space and the dimensions beyond. Then it happened, his eyes flew up, glowing and burning with the essence of magic.  The other four mages opened their eyes as well, all their hands outstretched, all with that same look of meaning and concentration for all had gone beyond themselves and managed, even if by only the slimest of threads to hold onto what made them human or elven among that torrent that is the universe of true magic that lingers in the horizon of out limited mental capacities that are tied to the world about us from birth by preconceived expectations and limitations of thought. Sivari's voice echoed in the power of the mana, "Now..."  As one, the five mages released the energies letting it pour from their bodies.  Connected to one another as the magic from each was drawn to itself and flowed outward into the red stream from the focusing crystal.  Merging in tight lines a solid almost physcical stream of mana conencted each member to the other creating a five sided hexagon and inside that a star pattern.  I imagine anyone above in the Citadel would have had quite the view as the bluer than blue configuration formed about the contrasting red of the Crystal. The energies poured.  The warriors fought on and killed, taking advantage of another momentary diversion as the militia paused upon the sight of magical prowess.  The distraction of the air itself tingling with energy that had formed all that they were.  Like blood being cleared in a pool of water, the levitation power that kept the citadel afloat above them poisoned with the blue of the mages.  Crawling upwars along the stream.

[MysticTrunks01]

"Slowly the blue mana stream coursed and ebbed like a thousand snakes slithering their way through a stream.  The mages continued their chanting and calling forth more of the arcane energies.  Around them, hell was unleashed.  The army of the Freeport Militia hit them like a wall and the men and women of Qeynos hit back like a juggernaut.  General Givardi slashed down and across the chest of one man, slicing with such strength,  the armor plating open like it was made of parchment, a splash of red filling the air.  Pivoting in the same movement, he reached just in time to grab a blade with his armored glove as it was drawing back.  He thrust his sword up under the helm of the would be attack killing him instantly.  With a yank he freed his sword and twisted to the next man.  Their blades met the scared face of the Militiaman spat and hissed, "You'll never prevail... Freeport is strong, LUCAN is STRONG!"  He shoved at Givardi with all his might causing him to stumble back two steps. Givardi raised his hand at the man fingers splayed, "All tyrants fall... some more literally than others."  A white light flashed from his hand blinding the surprised Militiaman, reaching for his eyes was the last movement he made. The General turned, it was bad.  For his bravado and words, things were not going well.  The mages work was nearly to the summit but two of his people were down and still more Freeporters came. "The corridors are lost!  Form a defensive ring about the mages!  MOVE!"  The four remaining knights took up points about the mages, swords held high.  A ring formed around them of Freeport Knights, encircling them on all sides, leaving no way to escape.  "We hold this position... No. Matter.  WHAT!" The Militia paused for a moment, the strength and determination of Givardi's conviction resonating in their ears as his words echoed about the chamber.   In that second, the mages work reached the levitation crystal at the base of the citadel.  They charged. Like a sea of armored death they closed tight the noose about the Qeynosian raiding party.  Something clapped like like metalic thunder above and the aura about the mages grew into a nova.  "Gene..ral.... down....,"  it was all Commander Siveri said but it was all the warning the General needed. He shouted the order, "SQUAD DOWN!"  If they had any questioning to the wisdom of dropping to the ground with forty enemies incoming they it did not reflect in their movements.  They clattered to their bellies with the scrap of metal and stone.  Above them a the nova brightness of the mana the mages held shot outward in a flaming ring of.  Militia closest to them were slammed backward as though having been shot from a cannon, throwing them into those behind them. Yet while their bodies flew their life energy was ripped forward and upward into the stream.  In no more than a heart beat 40 men and women of Freeport collapsed.  The focusing crystal shattered sending molten crystal shards in all direction, as the suddenly required force the most pure energy shot upwards at the Citadel.  It collided sending a shutter through out Freeport.  As the burst washed over the levitation crystal like a wave upon the rocks, it splintered and fractured.  Pulsing it's way down the remaining crystals energy trails it splashed and splintered four more, leaving no where near the number required to hold up the citadel.  The explosion could be heard for miles.  The Twilight Citadel fell listlessly like a colossus.  So great was the structure that even falling it looked like it only drifted downwards.   It did not fall straight down for their were still two energy streams attempting to hold it upright, instead it was pushed northward, it's mighty told tumbling towards the arena and pits. The battle taking place in the Commonlands as well as with in Freeport from the invading forces by sea, stopped.  Both sides of good and bad turned to watch as the bohemith fell.  The symbol of oppression and rule of Lucan D'Lere crashed upon the walls of Freeport.  Sending dirt and debris into the air.  A wave air pushed outward in all directions as it was displaced and the space between citadel and ground lessened. It continued it's lazy fall.  It's base was the first to hit ground the sound was like that of an angry god.  The air trembled with it's fury.

[MysticTrunks01]

(sorry it's been so long for any that still remember.  Bad things happened but it's calming down again so, here goes....) "There are some events, children, that change the world so suddenly and completely, that when they happen they are remembered clearly for all your life.  Either witnessing these or when you hear about them.  They are etched upon your memory with such vivid clarity that you can remember exactly what it was you were doing at the time and the place and time can come to you as though you stood there at that instant once again. Like a sleeping and dormant beast, caged and forgotten, they can awaken and spring up on you with out notice with nothing more than a passing smell or familiar sound.  These are the moments beyond even the joyous occasions of weddings or births.... and most of the time they are tragic. However, the day the Twilight Citadel fell, the people and maybe even Norrath herself, gave..... a thunderous and mighty cheer." The children watched him closely, a few of the blinked and the older Tier'Dal girl T'Rivala spoke up, "Papa Xannis....   Are you saying you were there?"  Her voice was cautious for she always hated to sound foolish. His violet eye glinted in the flicker of light that passed through the leafy canopy above as he winked at her.  "I'm saying.... Something you will never forget and you will know instantly when it happens, the world has changed.  Sometimes for better, sometimes for not."  She smirked as he continued, the other children looking between them. "That battles all around ceased as the tower fell and smashed over North Freeport.  Crumbling and filling over the death pits in the central square.  Smashing over the Arena that had stood and been rebuilt over the centuries and finally, crushing the outer defensive wall that lead into the Common Lands.  By miracle, or as many would say, 'dumb luck', the in of the Blood Haze was left widely undamaged save for that of debri and many broken windows from the blast of air as the tower fell." "The symbol of oppression had fallen and with it, D'Lere's army stood questioning if their leader had fallen with it.  Sadly it was not ment to be so easy as all that.  Fore Lucan D'Lere did not stay in his tower as it fell.  No, he had used the teleportation circles and now stood face to face, with General Givardi and what remained of his people."

[MysticTrunks01]

There stood Lucan D'Lere, ruler of Freeport.  His dark eyes like black holes taking in all light.  His scared and pox marked face like tanned leather, snarled a smirk at General Givardi.  "Ahhh, dear General," he spoke in a voice of command, of authority, and one of utter confidence. "D'Lere,"  Givardi replied with venom in his voice as if the name itself was a tainted and disgusting thing to be thrown out and buried at the bottom of the sea.  He stood straight and gripped the hilt of his blood stained claymore.  "Lucan D'Lere, by order of the Queen Antonia Bayle of Qeynos you are to stand down and surrender your hold of Freeport, or to be put to death." Lucan only grinned, his own hand falling to the hilt of his sword.  The mages of Qeynos were spent, laying in crumpled heaps around the Crytal they had just tainted to bring down the Twilight Citadel that lay ruined in the city beyond the walled area they now stood.  The army of Freeport had stopped coming with the collapse of the tower, many thinking their leader to be dead. "I believe the third option of resistance will be what i choose,"  he unsheathed his sword and dropped his balance into that of a fighting stance.  The sword was licked with flames of ethereal fire.  Traveling up the blade, grabbing and biting at the air as they came to a stop. Givardi's muscles tensed, "No... how ... you've regained the Soulfire..."  Long ago, D'Lere had taken the sword from the body of an Avatar of Gods during the battle of defiance.  It was lost to him though, and now.. Givardi brought his sword up to block and blow from D'Lere.  There blades locked, their faces just on the other side of each blade.  Now, however, it was Lucans turn to be shocked.  For the blade the General held glowed a brilliant blue light as runes shot up the length of the blade as the Qeynos Claymore came to life. The blades sparked blue and red as the two men eyed one another  threw the red flames and blue aura.  "I did not come unprepaired D'Lere...  As one of the last of the Knights of Marr, you'll pay for all you've done....  This day ends your reign liche." Each pushed off with their swords seperating them with distance of several paces.  D'Lere spoke, "I'll be happy to help extinquish one of the last remaining Knights of Marr...."  And he rushed in, sword aflame.

[valkry]

<p>(Xannis noted the silent girl in the far back of the crowd lean in attentively. While the child never spoke, it was possible to guess from her intrest in the Marr Knights, and her indeterminate genetics...some Human, possibly a few variants of Elvish, maybe even some Halasian, the child might have a family tie to the Marr Twins. She sat still, waiting for his next word.)</p>

[MysticTrunks01]

"Through the sands of history that flow threw the hour glass of time a grain at a time, there are few battles between individuals that could match that of Lucan D'Lere, Ruler of Freeport, and General Trustyn Givardi of Qeynos and the Remnants of Marr. The legendary Qeynos Claymore, believed to have been forged in the planes of the gods, passed down to the Race of Humans long before the creations of it's name sake was but a glinting dream in the first of the Bayle line. It's counterpart in thie battle, the equally legendary Soulfire.  Used through out history for good and evil alike.  A sword used by the Avatar of War over 1,300 years ago in the Battle of Defiance.  Where it's legacy of death continued, with the slaying of the Avatar and the rise of Lucan D'Lere." The children were transfixed.  The assembled pieces of Lucan could explode once more as it did a thousand years ago and they'd hear it as no more than a puff of breath in a crowded room.  The story teller paused a moment to take in that look, it was the only payment he really required for telling such stories of events long past. "'You betrayed the peoples of Norrath D'Lere!  And your wound upon this world is ended!'  Givardi kicked out a foot at the liche ruler of Freeport landing only a glancing blow as D'Lere jumped back at the same time. 'You and you're pathetic Queen... You're idiotic god.   You are NOTHING as compared to the power I yield.  The loss of a simple tower is nothing more than an inconvience!"  The last word was reinforced with a glowing out thrust hand.  A violet light congealed into a plasma in the time it take a blinking eyelid to close but not reopen.  The burning skull formed inside it's fires and was hitting Givardi before that same eyelid would have opened fully again. The General's body was wracked with pain as the plasma skull struck his torso.  His muscles strained, his tendons pulling.  Had he the air to breath he would have screamed but even that was knocked from his body.  The gloved hand tightened upon the Claymore, his muscles threatening to snap and splinter under the increasing pressure of his own muscles strain. Then it was gone.  A bolt of white shot from every part of Givardi and the magic was instantly dispelled.  The General collapsed to a knee, all the while his well trained hand never releasing his weapon.  Slowly his eyes looked up from under his helmed face, white with determination.  The color had left them.  Replaced with a soft white tinted with that of the same blue of the Void Runes upon the sword. Lucan D'Lere, snarled.  Givardi slowly rose with shaking legs as, again, D'Lere thrust out his hand with another plasma skull.  His aim was straight and true, however it was stopped.  A magic that can move as fast as torch light, was held fast by it's face.  Givardi had stretched his hand and caught the plasma palming it in his hand, his fingers inserted into the ghostly sockets.  His fist tightened like a vise, the skull emploded and was no more. Givardi got fully to his feet, the soft blue white eyes glaring with a holy venom.  "They gods have judged you, Lucan D'Lere.  For your crimes.  I send you to them, to be punished for your blasphemy."  Raising the great claymore one-handed, eyes narrowed, "Prepare yourself for the end."

[niko_teen]

Another great post as always. ty

[MysticTrunks01]

"The air crackled.  What took place next, children, happened so quickly most do not even know fully.  So I'll tell you what I believe given the account of survivors of both sides. Two titans clashed.  One of evil of purest black, one of white of purest good.  They moved so quickly, light flashing bright enough to be seen a mile away even beyond the walls that surrounded them in the city of Freeports inner sanctums.   This of course did no kindness to the eyes of those to witness, blinded temporarily.  When the visions cleared.  D'Lere was minus an arm, taken to his knee.  The Soulfire dimming and sputtering in his remaining left arm.   General Givardi having apparently passed six paces beyond Lucan.  He turned slowly "It's over D'Lere, Marr will judge you."  He turned and began stepping to finish the deed, when he froze. D'Lere had begun to laugh.  Not only laugh, but cackle.  A maddened and crazy thing.  It's not a laugh likely any of you have heard in your short years, and if you're lucky, won't in your later longer years.  There are some sounds no man should ever be capable of making but can in fits of rage, or fear.  Say seeing a loved one killed with no way to stop it. This, however, pales in that comparison, for this was not the screaming laugh of one, but thousands.  The sounds of a thousand and more voices, laughing, as if consumed in fever.  The souls of the thousands he'd taken unto himself.  "You'll not leave here, Givardi of the idiot god Marr.  For I carry in me, the souls of those, like you, who have already tried."  Givardi stood as though stone to the ground and watched the impossible.  As spurt of blood and gore shot from the place in which the arm was severed below the shoulder.  The muscle visable, tendons flexed grotesquely to the eye, things that happen below the skin, but there was no skin.  "All in good time, but this will suffice." The arm burst aflame of fire from the very heart of all the evil places Norrath knows and mayhap, even some she doesn't.  The are swished as a great sucking sound pulled at Givardi and now, his body truely did freeze.  Save for his eyes, those still blue white eye, having gone wide as saucers.   As his soul began to tear free from the flesh. D'Lere let loose another cackle, this one in triumph, "None can match my powers Givardi... and thus, this will be the end of another.  The gods are nothing before my power for they have grown weak and soft.  And what does that say of those that believe in them, Givardi, hm?  What do you think?"  And still, the celestial bindings that hold a soul to that of our bodies, continued to tear. "It makes you weaker than the gods you worship so blindly.  To put your faith in beings such as they...  You never had a hope.  Do you feel it Givardi?  The cold?  The void?  Yess, i can see in your eyes you do.  You never had a chance of getting out of here alive." A spectral manifestation had begun to pull from Givardi at this point, the very essence of who he was, he smiled, his lips finding purchase back in the land of sound, "You're right, and i'd never planned to." Valor, children, is a strange and wonderful thing.  It can take the lowest of farmer and make them a knight.  It can be that of saving a princess in need, to helping an old woman home and her groceries.  It comes in many forms.   None though, is more powerful than that valorous act, of sacrificing yourself, for that of others.  There is a powerful magic in this, a magic which D'Lere had long ago known and long ago, pushed from his mind as foolish non-sense.  And thus, the Fall of Freeport and Lucan D'Lere came to the pages of Norraths history. Givardi severed, with his own will and strength, the last vestiges of his souls line to the mortal plain.  His flesh and bone body fell in a heap of clanking armor.  But he, continued on.  Onward he flew, to the enemy of dozens of generations and hundreds of years.  His spectral souls arm grabbed hold of the forearm of D'Lere.  What happened next was a great many things, happening all at once. The spell of D'Lere's that removed and stores the souls of others into himself could not be extinguished until a soul was taken.  Givardi having given up of will, and not the spells doing, gave him a power unto himself.  He latched onto the soul of Lucan D'Lere and drug him into himself.  His own soul, drug into itself, yes i know it sounds like a paradox, and you're right, it is.  It created a loop, ring if you will.  It was this loop and the expenditure of power that destroyed his body, and then... Freed them all.  He exploded in a burst of captured souls.  Then all was silent and no more than three or five seconds having passed. Lucan D'Lere had passed beyond the veil, torn asunder by his own work, and Norrath sighed in with relief.  The gods of light, cheered.  The gods of dark, looked away uncaring for Lucan ment nothing to them. Qeynos, took control of the city of Freeport.  Until the Counsel of the Nine, or simply, The Nine, as they would become later, was formed.  The allience between the two cities it not strong, but improved over time, until the days when Bayle of the Hate took control." The story weaver sighed, and stretched his own bones as he got to his feet.  The children sat blankly, thinking, or so it seemed.  He removed a  pinch smoke leaf from it's place at his belt and rolled a "stinky stick" as the children called them, licking the paper and lighting it with a snap of his finger and spark of chakra.  "So silent little ones.  What is it that troubles you?" Elesia, the little girl of five stood, her tiny fae lip trembling, "Wha? Poppa Thannis?  Wha did the genewil have to die?"  He smiled and patted his lap.  "Come to me little one," she did as bade, clammering into his lap.  "He died, because his life, would by the lived of thousands... many even hundreds of thousands, or a million people plus with the death of one other.  It's not fair is it?"  She shook her little head, her locks of pink hair flaying lightly in the now dying sunlight.  "No, I suppose it's not.  But now you know of General Givardi... and the Fall of Freeport.  One man of many, yes, but a great man all the same.  But, it's gotten late and i'm likely already in trouble with your parents for keeping you out so late.  Scoot."  He kissed little Elesia on the top of the head and helped her down.  The others made their way down the path to the hill, and to the city of Kelethin. The old story teller sighed, a puff of smoke escaping his lips.  "Thus ends, the story's end of The Dark Era of Freeport and it's ruler, may his bones rot."