History of the Viswords, Part I: The Journey to Norrath (2nd ed.)

[SilverclawII]

((What's the 2nd ed. at the end of the title all about?  For those reading for the first time, I had some trouble editing some chapters in the first edition.  So I asked for the moderators if they'd kick that one off the forums so I could start anew.  In this version, most of the posts have been cut down in size in case there comes a need for future editing.  I've kept as many of the original feedbacks that I had as well.  These are the sections where it's someone wrote something and someone else wrote another thing.  Happy reading everyone!))

[SilverclawII]

<p><b>Introduction</b>      Silverclaw Viswords the First looked out of his balcony window and up to the planet in the sky. He was a Vah Shir, born and raised in the city of Shar Vahl, yet now he longed to be on the surface where he could feel he was being called to for help. Help, he couldn’t offer. The crystal blue eyes watered until they overflowed and a tear trailed down his orange and black striped fur.      He was an adventurer, a great warrior, and an explorer of the planet Norrath’s surface. However, since the gods’ released their wrath upon the Nexus portals, there had been no contact from Norrath from Luclin for several decades. As the years passed, he continued to grow more, and more restless.      Though a warrior, a Khala Dun, he was unusually sensitive to the spirits around him. During the great war between the Rallosian Army and the rest of Norrath, he tossed and turned in his sleep as the sprits made the battles known to his unsettled mind. To know that his friends were fighting for their lives and their homes while he sat in the walls of a protected city was tearing his own spirit to shreds. Yet he could do nothing, but wait and hope that the war would end soon.      Finally, the war was over, and the peace that followed after found its way to Silverclaw’s troubled mind, and the years of calm and renewal began.      He grew old, older than a Vah Shir should live. But even when he was too feeble to walk on his own, he continued to tell the stories of the adventures he had had while on Norrath. He told of the cities he had seen, of the friends he had made, and the remorse he felt that he couldn’t do anything to help them when they needed him most. The children were fascinated, the adults were entertained, and some even believed. Amongst these believers was his grandson, Silverclaw <i>III</i>.      Silverclaw <i>III</i> became the spitting image of his grandfather. Maybe this was due to the fact that he rarely saw his own father, who was one of the many ambassadors to the far off city of Katta, and was left in his grandfather’s care. He grew to be a proud and powerful Khala Dun, and achieved the honored rank of an Officer.      Still, his grandfather could see that his Lil’ Silver was not happy. There was a desire there. A yearning. Whatever it was, he knew he had to find out.</p><p>To be continued...</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p>(Introduction Cont.)      It was another evening spent telling of the adventures and places of old.      When the regular crowd had dispersed, Silverclaw<i> I</i> looked at his grandson and asked, “Something troubles you, Lil’ Silver. Would you mind telling this old tiger what it is?”      Silverclaw <i>III</i> stopped taking out the various plates and utensils. He stared at his grandfather for a moment and continued his chore. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.      “No,” his grandfather replied. “Your face is a blank slate, but the spirits are sharing your feeling of longing with me. In fact, I have been meaning to ask you for some time. However, I can’t tell exactly what it is that you long for.”</p><p>     “You should have been a Dar Khura, grandpa.”      “I didn’t have the mental discipline that most shamans had at the time,” Silverclaw <i>I</i> curtly explained. “But don't try changing the subject. Right now this moment is about you.”      There was a long, awkward moment of silence. Finally, Silverclaw <i>III</i> put the things in his hands to the side, braced his hands against the counter and said, “I want to go to Norrath.” He became more lively as he went on. “I want to see the cities you have. I want to see the people you’ve seen. I want to know what day and night are like; not this constant darkness around our home, or the glaring light like on the other side. But what I really want...is to know if there was any other way to Norrath besides the Nexus. Everything depends on that single answer.”      “There was.”      The younger Silverclaw watched his grandfather twist his long whiskers between his fingers thoughtfully. Then he heard the old man whisper so softly that he barely caught the words, “Maybe still is.”      “Really? What is it?”      Silverclaw <i>I</i> frowned and stopped his whisker twisting. “I can’t tell you.”      “What? Why not?”      “It’s too dangerous.”      “Too dangerous?!” was Silverclaw’s <i>III</i> outburst. “Danger doesn’t concern me, grandpa!”      “And that’s exactly why I can’t, and won’t, tell you!” Silver <i>I</i> snapped back. Before the other could stand and leave, the elder gripped the grandson he had raised like his own child by the hand and pulled him close.      For his seething anger, the younger warrior found that he didn’t want to resist. “Silverclaw, my Little Silver,” his grandfather said in that soft voice that was full of a father’s love and concern. “The gods that destroyed the Nexus Portals are as real as you and me, and more powerful than either of us could imagine. No one could stand up to their wrath then, and I seriously doubt you could now.”      “The gods?” Silverclaw <i>III</i> repeated and gently pushed himself away. “Grandfather…I don’t understand.”      The old cat sealed his lips and looked like he wished he could have taken back a sentence or two. “I’ve said too much, already,” he sighed heavily. He then rested a hand on his Lil’ Silver’s shoulder and looked him sternly in the eye. “Let it go, my boy. You don’t need another reason for death to come for you early.”     And that was that.     The preparation and eating of the lastfeast was done in silence. When the time set apart for sleep came, Silverclaw <i>III</i>’s mind was uneasy about his grandfather’s last revelation. What did furless gods have to do with a way to Norrath? Eventually, the fatigue from the day’s activities and the recent meal won over his restless mind, and he drifted off into a deep slumber.      On Norrath, however, no one would sleep well this night, or for several nights to come. For this was the night that would mark the beginning of the greatest cataclysms that would hit the surface of Norrath.      The Rending. ((Edit note: I went over the chapter and tried to add a little more detail and fix some errors and typos. Enjoy all.))</p>

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 1 Of Dreams and Spirits</b>   Screams of help were coming from all around him, that was the first thing he noticed. Wherever he was, the place was in a panic. The ground was shaking so badly he could barely keep his balance and all around him the walls were crumbling into ruins!   A high-pitched squeal carried over the other sounds. A girl, a Human girl, clung to a door that swung widely in the open air. The floor it once opened to was now a heap of rubble on the ground two stories below. She was screaming “Daddy! Daddy, help me!” over and over again!   He wanted to help, but the ground was shaking so badly he couldn’t take two steps without falling over!   “Daddy! Daddy, help me!”   Daddy…   Silverclaw <i>III</i> looked frantically for the only father figure he had known. Where was his grandfather?! The ground shook so hard that even his arms gave out beneath him and he fell facedown on the floor. As he struggled to look up, he saw his grandpa on his belly, trying to do the same. A cloud of dust and bits of debris was settling right over the old Vah Shir's head.   Silverclaw’s gaze followed the cloud up and his eye’s widened in horror.   Half of what looked to have once been a watchtower was falling, and his grandfather was lying right beneath it!   “No! Grandpa!” Silverclaw yelled and he was back in his bed.   Silverclaw <i>III</i> took a long look at his surroundings. Above him was a solid ceiling without crack or fissure. To his sides, the walls still stood erect. He could feel soft sheets of the finely crafted bed beneath him and the soft mattress beneath that. He fell back onto what he knew was a plush pillow and sighed deeply in relief.   He was home.   It was only a nightmare, he knew, though a truly horrifying nightmare at that. The worse one he had had in many years, but it had felt so real. He could still feel his heart pounding.   He covered his face with his hands, and just noticed that they were still shaking. His entire body was shivering like he was freezing to death, but he was hot. Now that he had his mind on it, he felt like he was in the center of a bonfire! He got out of bed, his legs still shaking like the earth was still moving. He wobbled to the washing basin on the far side of the wall.   The bucket nearby was filled with water for the next morning’s wash. He leaned over the basin and dumped the whole thing over his head. He shook himself dry and stared at the reflection in the polished, steel, mirror.   “What’s the matter with me?” he asked the other in the mirror. “I know it was only a dream, but I can still feel the suffering, the helplessness…” He leaned over further and clenched his ears. “Suffering spirits! I can still hear the screaming!”   After a moment of silence, he unclenched his ears was relieved that he could hear nothing louder than the gurgling of the fountain just outside. That was when another scream cut through the night air. There was no mistake now, someone was definitely screaming! And that someone sounded like his grandpa!   In a flash, Silverclaw <i>III</i> was at his grandfather’s bedside. The elder tiger was fast asleep, but it was far from peaceful. Ever time he roared, his body would twist and turn to protect itself from unseen blows.   “Grandpa! Grandpa, wake up!” Silverclaw <i>III</i> cried, but to no avail. He hoisted his grandfather by the shoulders and shook him until the eyes opened partway and the old body relaxed. “Grandpa! Wake up Silverclaw!”   “The buildings…” Silverclaw <i>I</i> whispered. He brushed his face and gripped his grandson by the arm with both hands. “The buildings, they’re falling! The ground’s tearing itself apart…”   “It’s alright grandpa, everything is okay,” Silverclaw <i>III</i> assured. He could see the panic in his grandfather’s eyes. “I had the same nightmare, but it was just that. A bad dream and nothing more.”   “If only that were true, my boy,” his grandfather whispered and let go of the youth’s arm. He eased himself back down on his bed and covered his face with an arm and sobbed, “Seven thousand suffering spirits, I wish that were true!”   Silverclaw <i>III</i> watched his grandfather cry on his bed like he was mourning the loss of dear friend. The sight scared even more than the vivid dream. Finally he gathered enough courage to softly ask, “Papa?” He hadn’t called his grandfather that since he was but a small cub.   The elder Vah Shir lowered his arm and wiped the tears from his eyes as he composed himself. “I don’t know how or why, but for some reason you’ve inherited my sensitivity to the feelings of the spirits about us. I thought I was the only one, especially since I thought I felt it pass your father. That is how they communicate, Lil’ Silver, by what they feel, and when our minds are relaxed, such as in meditation or in sleep, they can display these feelings so well that events can be seen in visions. What we saw…” He squeezed two more tears from his eyes. “What we saw was merely a sample of what’s happening on Norrath right now!”   Silverclaw <i>III</i> just stared down at his grandfather. He wanted to say his grandpa was wrong; he wanted to shake his head in denial. For the sake of his mind, he wanted to do anything but stand there gawking like an idiot!   (Suffering)(Fear) <i>Help us! Our flesh suffers. Help us…help…</i>   His eyes widened in shock. He knew the feelings were not his own, but he had felt them, and in the front of his mind a hundred voices whispered the plea, and were silent. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

<p>(Chapter 1, Cont.)   “You heard them as well, didn’t you?” The way his grandpa asked didn’t require him to answer. “Now you know what I’m saying is the truth. A long time ago, when I first heard their cry for help, my desire to put their troubled souls to peace was so strong my spirit nearly tore from body to go where it couldn’t.” Silverclaw<i> I</i> sat up and clutched at his heart. “And now that desire has returned, and once again I can’t do anything but suffer.”   Silverclaw <i>III</i> was worried. He could feel the same desire tearing at him, too. He heart felt like it would break any second. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing to a heart as ancient as his grandfather’s.   Something was wrong, he could see that. The fur of his predecessor was looked whiter than it should be. He knew that throughout his life that the black stripes on his fur would never changed their color, and yet he saw the ones on his grandfather’s coat fading away.   “But what can we do?” he asked desperately.   His grandpa slowly shook his head. “We can’t do anything. With the Nexus gone, we can’t even get to the planet’s surface.”   “But you said there was another way besides the Nexus!”   “No,” his grandpa said stubbornly, shaking his head more vigorously. “That way is forbidden now.”   “Grandpa, I need to know. You should know that need more than anyone.” He took his grandpa by the shoulders, looked him in the eye and whispered, “I cannot do nothing!”   “The gods may be against me, but there is no other way,” Silverclaw <i>I</i> whispered and laid back down. He was tired…so very, very tired, but he couldn’t go to sleep, not yet. “Listen carefully, my boy. In Shadeweaver Thicket, to the left of the crossroads, just several yards away is a ring of boulders. In the center of that ring is a special book. Just touch its binding and you will be taken to the Plane of Knowledge.”   “The Plane of Knowledge…?”   “Yes, it is the planar crossroad that connects all the great cities of Luclin and Norrath.  It is important that you don’t stay longer than is needed. To the left of your entry point will be a stone. Touch its top and you’ll be taken to outside the city of Qeynos.”   “Qeynos, grandpa? Why there?  What will I be able to do?”   “It is the best place to start as any, I feel. Once this cataclysm has run its course, the Humans will certainly start rebuilding their lives and homes. During this time, they will be more vulnerable to their enemies than ever. They’ll need experienced warriors to come to their defenses. They’ll need you.”</p><p>  “I…I see…” Silverclaw <i>III</i> said reluctantly. He began to realize the heavy burden on his shoulders. Something still felt wrong. “Grandpa…there’s one thing that puzzles me. If this book has been around for so long, why has no one ever traveled between Luclin and Norrath?”</p><p>  “This is why I didn’t wish to tell you, my boy,” Silverclaw<i> I</i> whispered. He clutched his chest and took another deep breath. “The Plane of Knowledge is also the doorstep to the other planes of existence. Champions of Norrath traveled to the Planes of Power for greater adventure and challenge, but it wasn’t enough. They invaded the great palaces there and slew the avatars, the very physical embodiments of their gods! As a grandparent, I cannot imagine you, the grandson I’ve loved for so long, trying to kill me. How then, can I imagine the gods’ feelings of remorse, and anger when their very children drew their weapons on them?”   Silverclaw <i>I</i> paused and took another deep breath. His grandson noted that his breathing was getting shallower. Something was truly wrong, but Silverclaw <i>III</i> didn’t dare interrupt.   “They showed these ‘champions’ the frailty of mortality, and either banished or slew the rest, depending on the mercy of each god,” Silverclaw <i>I</i> continued. “Soon after, they unleashed their anger upon the Nexus and, now, upon Norrath’s very surface. That is why the Plane of Knowledge is forbidden.”</p><p>  “But then…what chance do I have? Why would the gods…to whom our people make no claims to, I might add, make an exception for me?”   “Because, my boy,” Silverclaw <i>I </i>whispered and smiled weakly. “I will go ahead and…and plead our case to them. I believe that…that they will listen. The spirits…be with you…my boy.”</p><p>  The answer hadn’t made any sense. He blinked twice and shook his head once. “Wait, what do you mean you’ll go ahead?”   There was no reply.   “Grandpa?” Silverclaw <i>III</i> asked; again, there was no reply. “Papa?   His grandfather’s eyes were closed; his chest had stopped moving.   Silverclaw <i>III</i> quickly stood. He looked down and shook his head in denial of the image in front of him. As a warrior, death was no stranger in his life. It visited his enemies, and sometimes a member of his party. But never…never!...did he think that it would someday visit his own home.   The shock wore off as fast as it had hit and he bolted out the door. “Help!” he cried through the streets. “Somebody, I need a Dar Khura! Dar Khura!” ((Edit notes: Originally the I's and III's and the spirits' voices were suppose to be itallicized. But since for some odd reason that the posts in these won't do that I'll just have to settle for tell you. Went over the chapter and added a little more detail.  If you can't tell, I was in a rush before to get my main character to Norrath's surface.))</p><p>((Edit note, 2nd ed.:  Yipee! <img src="/smilies/283a16da79f3aa23fe1025c96295f04f.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> Changing the font in the previous chapters works now!))</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p>Some old feed back and replies... Ostac Wrote: Great! Write more! When the old man died it about had me in tears... Love it. Ostac Wrote: Silverpaw,</p><p>Just wondering if you were planning on writing more... SilverclawII Wrote: I'll be writing more soon. Thanks for the feedback and reading, it helps drive the need to write more. Right now, got a new guild to run. Just came here to show the link for my char's biography. On the story side, I've ran into a big writer's delima. Do you know how hard it is to span 500 years? Ostac Wrote: Guess that's why SOE just decided to say "this and this happened, GL!". <img src="/smilies/283a16da79f3aa23fe1025c96295f04f.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p>

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 2 Farewell to Shar Vahl </b>   “From the land we came, to the land we return.”   Silverclaw Viswords the Third stared into the bright flames of the funeral pyre as the elder Dar Khura recited the ritual words that would guide a spirit to the land it served in life.   “Let his wisdom be remembered and let his strength be honored.”   He followed the glowing embers into the night sky until they became one with the brightness of Norrath’s surface.   “As the body dies, let his spirit live on.”   As the ashes of his grandfather rose to the sky, a tear fell to the ground. Others followed and still he stared at the great planet in the sky.   “That he may be with us in our hearts and our minds forever.”   His fists clenched and unclenched as the gears in his mind and spirit worked and grinded.   “Until that time that comes to us all. Farewell, Silverclaw Viswords, farewell.”   He knew what he had to do. <hr />  Each time he went to sleep, the nightmares engulfed him. Each time was a little different, save for feeling of the shaking ground beneath his legs. One time he was caught in a home set ablaze, another he struggled to keep hold of poor soul’s hands before watching him plunge into the deep crevice, and yet another he watched helplessly as a great wave of water came crashing onto of the boat he sailed.   Each time he woke before the worst came upon him, but still the spirits came, bringing their pleas and the feelings of those suffering.   (Sorrow)(Fear) <i>Help us!</i> they pleaded nightly. <i>Our flesh suffers! Our flesh fails! Help us!</i>   And each time he answered to the ceiling of his room. “I will,” he promised. “When the ground ceases its shaking, I will…Papa.” Hearing his own words seemed to satisfy his own troubled mind than the spirits, and so he turned back into his bedding and wept the time away until sleep found him again.   It seemed that the nightmares would never end, and Silverclaw spent much of his waking moments looking up at the planet in the sky, almost expecting the world to divide itself asunder. It never did, though, and one time came when his sleep was left alone by dreams and the spirits didn’t cry for relief when he awoke.   He spent that first waking moment and understood. On the surface of Norah, countless others had shared Silverclaw’s night of peaceful sleep.   The time for him to fulfill his promise had come. <hr />  Silverclaw checked the contents of his backpack carefully, if he forgot anything, chances were he wouldn't be able to come back for it. When he felt thoroughly satisfied that he had all he would need, he went to his grandfather’s bedroom and opened a chest at the foot of the now vacant bed.   “Going somewhere?” a familiar voice called behind him.   He stood with a jolt and turned around suddenly to see a female Vah Shir standing in the bedroom doorway. Her fur was a creamy white with chocolate stripes where it showed. She leaned casually against the frame, her arms crossed across her chest, and a smug smile across her face as only those feline features could.   “Oh, it’s you Esterah,” Silverclaw sighed with a breath of relief, clutching his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! If I had been armed you could have been seriously hurt!” He turned back around and opened the chest once again.   “Don’t change the subject. Where are you going, Silver?”   “What do you mean?” he asked casually as he opened the hidden flap in the top of the chest.   Esterah unfolded her arms and kneeled at his side. “You know exactly what I mean. Your backpack is filled to the brim with your armor, weapons, and supplies, and…what’s that?”   “One platinum piece,” Silverclaw replied as he tucked the coin securely in a small leather bag. He then looped the drawstring around his neck. “My grandfather’s lifesavings from his past adventures.”   Esterah shook her head and growled softly. “See? <i>That’s</i> exactly what I’m talking about.” She stepped to keep pace as went to pick up his backpack. “Silver, please, don’t block me out. We’ve been friends, dear friends, since our individual apprenticeships. I know you miss your grandfather, but can’t you tell me why?”   “Why what?” Silverclaw asked and strapped the backpack on.   “Why you don’t plan on coming back?” she whispered, her emerald green eyes watering.   Silverclaw blinked once, then twice, tried to open his mouth to tell her she was getting worried about nothing, but gave up. He sighed in defeat, removed his backpack, and slowly lowered it to the ground. He turned to her and smiled ever so slightly. “You can really tell, huh?”   Esterah wiped one eye and tried to laugh, but it was weak. “It wasn’t that hard.”   “Alright…you’d better sit down. This may take awhile to explain…” To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

<p>(Chapter 2, Cont.)</p><p>  Silverclaw began his explanation to Esterah. To his surprise, he found himself wanting, needing to tell her everything.   He began with the nightmare he had the night his grandfather died. The conversation they had and his surety that the nightmares he had that night, and the nights following, were visions of disasters happening on Norrath. He told her that his grandfather had passed away because of his weakened spirit and not from a peaceful passing in his sleep as the Dar Khura’s had surmised. And he told her what he planned to do, to avoid his grandfather’s fate.   Esterah sat there before him, her intelligent eyes wide and attentive. Not once while he spoke did she interrupt or try to tell him that these things were merely an effect of his grieving. She hadn’t even laughed and called him crazy, as he had first feared.   When he stopped, Esterah’s ears folded back and she broke eye contact with him. The way her brows furrowed together and her ears flicked, Silverclaw could tell that she was deep in thought.   After some contemplative silence, she finally spoke, “But Silver, you’re just one man.” She looked to him with a shake of her head. “What difference can you hope to achieve for an entire city?”   Silverclaw’s shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “If there is a difference to made to just one person, then I will know that my journey will not have been in vain. Esterah, I know where I am needed, and it’s not within the walls of Shar Vahl.”   Esterah stared at him a moment longer, and looked down at her hands. She was gripping the clothing of her leggings so tightly that Silver could hear some of the fabric beginning to tear. She squeezed her eyes tightly before any tears could escape.   Silverclaw began to reach out to her, wanted to say something. Something to assure her that they’d see each other again, but he knew those words wouldn’t be true, and those words never came. He picked up his backpack from the floor and began to leave the room, but when he reached the doorway, he heard Esterah’s crystal clear voice cry out his name. The pleading in her tone awakened such grief in him he gripped the side of the arc for support.   “<i>I</i> need you,” she said, her voice trembling. Then she cried in anger, “Does that count for nothing!?”   Silverclaw slowly turned to face her, almost afraid to look back.   Esterah’s entire exterior was shaking and she no longer fought to hide the tears that flowed freely from her eyes. Her true feelings now thrown at his feet, it didn’t take him long to realize how badly he didn’t want to say good-bye. Not to her, and not like this. He walked to her in silence and tightly embraced her. She squeezed him tightly and cried into his shoulder, drying her tears upon his tunic.   “If there was a shred of doubt in my mind,” he whispered into her ear. “If I didn’t know these things like I do, I wouldn’t have to be saying good-bye to everything that is so close and dear to my heart. And of all those good-byes, I’m finding this one to be the hardest. We’ve been together for a long time, and I had hoped that it would have been forever. But…” He released the embrace and raised her chin gently until their eyes met again. “I’m sorry, Esterah…I truly am.”   He nearly let her go completely, but she nearly pounced on top of him and wrapped her arms about his neck. He didn’t raise his arms to catch her; he just let her hold onto him as long as she needed. Her scent was so strong, her touch was so warm. He held onto every moment, tried to burn the memory in his mind, because he never wanted to loose it.   “No, Silver, my dearest Silver, we shall never say good-bye. What’s left for me here if I can’t see you again?”   “Esterah…” he whispered. “I can’t stay...” “I know,” she whispered back, and he felt her understanding nod against him. “That’s why I’m coming with you.” ((Edit Notes: Re-read the chapter and in general tried to make things clearer especially the dilemma Silver was going through. Tried to make the last bit a little more touching.))</p>

[SilverclawII]

Some more old feedback, and the first post upon my return after a year since my last story submission. SilverclawII Wrote: Well, I'm back after a long time, and well, I've got to say, I've lost my train of though. Sorry all. Next time I come up with a story, I'll make sure I finish it before it gets posted. Ostac Wrote: I personally enjoyed the update. Looking forward to the next one. SilverclawII Wrote: Ack! Has it's been nearly an entire years since my last post for this. Currently I'm taking a year break from the game. Life's going to be keeping me preety busy for some time. On the plus side, I've found the time to write more of my character's biography. Much has changed in game and in the story for my character. I finally feel like I have comfortably overcame those five hundred years that were driving me nuts! Yay! Thinking to change the title as well. Being the Vah Shir heir of Shar Vahl sounds like an all too common history for most Kerra characters. The Introduction, and Chapter One have changed a bit and Chapter 2 I redid ENITRELY. In addition I return with two all new chapters. I will be writing more soon. Enjoy all, and feel free to give some feedback. Message edited by SilverclawII on 02/28/2007 15:04:53.

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 3 New World </b>   Silverclaw and Esterah found the Book of Knowledge right where his grandpa said it would be. Gripping hands tightly, they reached and touched the leather binding. The book glowed with a bright blue aura; then the aura began to gather and pour from the center of the book‘s pages, like rainwater running down a gutter. The magic filled an oval-shaped space in the air until what looked like a frameless large mirror hovered in front of the two Vah Shir.   Silverclaw tentatively reached out for the portal. When his fingertip reached its reflection, the portal’s mirror surface shimmered and rippled like a puddle of mundane water. Silverclaw quickly withdrew his finger and rubbed it with his thumb. It wasn’t wet like he had expected. In fact, only the shimmering effect of the portal’s surface had been the only sense that he had touched it.   Esterah reached up with her free hand and put it in his. “Scared?”   He breathed deeply and nodded slowly. “Ya.”   She nodded and looked at the portal. “Me too.”   “You sure you want to do this?”   She nodded and gripped his hand even tighter, “As long as you are.”   “Then this is it,” he said and put one foot through the portal. Finding solid ground, he put his whole body in.   Esterah followed after, her hand tightly gripping his. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

(Chatper 3, Cont.)   The light of the portal became brighter and brighter. Silverclaw shielded his eyes with a hand and squinted, but the light ahead was too bright to bear. Finally, he closed his eyes and trudged on forward.   The next thing he knew, the ground had gone out from underneath him, and…and he couldn’t <i>breathe!</i> He opened his eyes and was shocked to see light shimmering down from above and bubbles of air floating to the top. Somehow, he had ended up underwater, and now he needed to get above it! He righted himself in the direction he saw the bubbles float, and with powerful strokes and kicks, he soon broke the surface and took a deep gulp of air.   He began to realizing some things that had escaped him earlier. Things, like the bright sky that shone above, the cold water he was treading in, and the salty taste in his mouth. But the first and foremost difference he noticed was the absence of Esterah’s hand in his own.   He roared her name, “Esterah!” He looked frantically left and right. He spotted a dock, and shore, not far from where he was treading the water, but Esterah wasn’t anywhere nearby. He screamed her name again and kept his eyes and ears open for any clue to her location.   “Silver! Behind you! Over-”   Silverclaw turned around in time to see two flailing hands go up and slap down upon the water’s edge. Esterah’s face broke the surface just as he reached her.   “I got you!” he cried and wrapped an arm about her waist. He then felt the weight bearing both of them down, and he began to kick harder with his legs to keep their heads up. Where in the world was the extra weight coming…then it came to him.   “Esterah, the packs!” he shouted.   She looked at him momentarily; she obviously hadn’t heard him clearly.   “The packs!” he repeated. “Take off your pack! They’re dragging us down!”   Her head turned to the leather on her shoulder in surprise and back to him. “All of it?”   “All of it,” he answered, shrugging off the strap on his free arm. “It’s not worth drowning for!”   She nodded in agreement and quickly followed example.   Moments later, their packs were sinking to the watery depths, but at least, for the moment, they could swim with exhausting themselves.   “Where do we go now?” Esterah asked as she shivered against his chest.   “This way,” Silverclaw replied, turning them around. “There’s a dock and the shore. Not far from here.” He began to sidestroke to the beach; Esterah clung on and kicked weakly. He thought he heard her say something to him, but his ears were under the water half the time as he propelled them through the water.   “You say something?” he asked quickly and went down for another stoke.   “I said,” Esterah cried, pausing when his head went under. “‘I’m sorry.’”   “For what?”   Esterah opened her mouth answer, but then a whistle sounded across the waters.   Both of them turned their heads to the sound. It came from a man on the docks. He was waving to them with one hand; a roped dangled from the other.   The man cupped a hand to his bearded mouth and shouted, “Heads up!” Then the Human twirled the rope. At its end, the section of a wooden beam was tied. With experienced aim, the man let go of the rope and the beam splashed just a foot or so from the two floundering Vah Shir.   Silverclaw paddled to the beam and tightly wrapped his arm around it. He nodded to Esterah and she in turn raised her arm and waved to the man on the dock. The man planted his back foot solidly on the dock’s floor and, using his entire body, he began pulling the two in with long strides.   Soon Silverclaw and Esterah were at the end of the dock. Silverclaw let go of the beam and hugged the nearest pillar.   The man panted heavily and went on his belly to reach for them with a tan, brawny arm. “Here,” he said in what sounded like a heavily accented Vah Shir. “Give me your hand, lady Kerra!”   “Kerra?” Esterah asked and looked up to Human above.   “Yes, you, ma’am,” the man nodded vigorously and shook his extended hand. “Now give me your hand if you want to get out of this bay.” To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 3, Cont.)   “Up you go, Esterah,” Silverclaw said and reached beneath her to push her up out of the water.   She jumped for the stranger’s arm and clawed at the pillar with her feet as the men pushed and pulled. Finally, she collapsed on the solid wooden planks, coughing and spitting out the salty seawater.   The man sat down nearby, breathing deeply, his body perspiring greatly from the effort. “Phew!” he managed to say. “I think you’re the biggest catch I’ve pulled from beneath these docks.” The man clutched his chest and took another deep breath. “I don’t think I got enough strength to go pullin’ your friend out, too.”   “No, need,” Silverclaw growled and lifted himself so far out of the water that he could bring himself to a standing position. He braced his hands against his knees until he could regain more of his strength. “I can manage on my own. Thanks.”   The man whistled. “You must be a Kerra from the Isles to swim like that and still be strong enough to jump out of the water like that.”   “No,” Silverclaw corrected shaking his head. “We’re not from the Isles. My grandpa taught me how to swim when I was a cub, and made sure I practiced when I got older. One of the most grueling endurance training he ever made me do, but I guess I should be thanking for it.” He sat down on the dock and motioned a hand to the Human. “By the way, thanks for the rope, friend.”   “Oh, posh, just call me the Dockmaster,” the Human replied, brushing the compliment aside. “I'm just doing my job. Keeping folks like…eh?” The man looked at Silverclaw and frowned. “What's with the face?”   Silverclaw slapped his mouth to hide what other secrets his face may be betraying. “I’m sorry, but I‘ve never heard a Human with such a heavy accent as yours. I’ll give you credit since I can still understand what you’re saying, though.”   “<i>My</i> accent?” the Dockmaster said and pointed a finger at his chest in question. “Look who’s talking. I'll be letting you know that know that I know how to speak Kerra quite fluently, thank you very much. Where in Bayle’s good name did you two Kerra come from anyways? You refugees that got separated from your group, or somethin’?”   “Were not Kerra, we’re Vah Shir,” Silverclaw corrected, a little irritated at being told how to speak the language he was born with. He noticed that Esterah had finally regained enough of her strength to sit up and decided to check on her, since he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere with their rescuer.   “Bah! Same difference,” the Dockmaster was saying. “My really great-grandpa was a Halasian, but I ain't denying that I’m Human.”   Silverclaw ignored the comment as he checked Esterah over. “You all right?”   “Wet, cold, and tired,” she replied gloomily, but she still smiled up at him. “But grateful to be on solid ground.” She folded her ears back, and her face went back to being miserable. Something more than the cold was bothering her. When Silver voiced his concern she answered, “It was what I was trying to apologize for earlier. If had been a stronger swimmer, you may have been able to save at least one of our packs instead of worrying for me. I hadn’t intended to become another burden for you.”   “Hey, hey, you’re no burden, alright?” he said gently and bent down close. Esterah looked up at him, her expression doubtful. “I mean that! Asides, I think I can take a boat out and recover most of the supplies.” He turned and tried to guess where they fell in. He laughed lightly and said to her, “The water doesn’t look <i>too</i> deep.”   Esterah smiled, but for a brief moment. “What happened to us, Silver?” she asked her brows furrowed. “I followed you through the portal into that bright light; the next thing I recall I was treading water.”   Silverclaw shook his head. “I’m just as puzzled. My grandfather said that the portal should have taken us into the Plane of Knowledge, but I don’t recall anything between Luclin and…wherever here is.”   The Dockmaster shook his head and gaped at them. He then muttered something in his own language.   Silverclaw’s ears perked and he sighed at the man. “No, I don’t think your Kerra is getting rusty,” he assured the Dockmaster in what the Human’s called the Common language. He had to roll the <b>R</b>s and his <b>S</b>s were with a lisp, but he could manage. “I really did say we came from Luclin and supposedly through the Plane of Knowledge, like the spirits directed me and my grandfather.”   Esterah frowned up at Silverclaw’s openness with their new friend. The man was obviously becoming more and more disturbed with the more he was told, but the warrior wasn’t taking any notice.   “I see you can understand Common?” the Dockmaster said and frowned. “Well, I hope you won’t be offended, but...I say that’s crazy! No one’s even seen the moon, Luclin in hundreds of years now, much less been there. And to think that you used a Plane of Power to get here…That just goes beyond insane!”   “And were not supposed to be offended?” Silverclaw scoffed.   The man didn’t seem to have heard the jibe and just sighed and rubbed his temples. “But then again, you two did seem to just fall out of the sky. No boat, no flash of light...” The man seemed almost half-convinced, but he shook his head again and planted his hands solidly on his knees. “What am I saying? Well, where are you two going then if you’re not refugees?”   “Well, like I said before,” Silverclaw began explaining. “My grandfather told me that I should use the Plane of…” Esterah jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow and stopped him mid-sentence. He frowned at her accusingly and rubbed the spot.   She ignored the look and smiled sweetly at the Human. “What my companion here means is that we are trying to find our way to the Human city of Qeynos.” Her mastery of the Common language was so well that she could speak without Silver’s prevalent lisps.   “Yes,” Silverclaw continued. “The spirits informed…OW!” He rubbed his ribs again and looked back to Esterah as she lowered her elbow. “Will you quit that?!”   She turned quickly to him with a scowl and all his accusations suddenly disappeared. She pulled him down close by the collar of his blue tunic and whispered harshly in the Vah Shir tongue, “Not if you keep telling him we fell from a moon no one’s seen in centuries or that you’re on a quest because you heard spirits telling you to!” Silverclaw began to protest, but Esterah stopped him with a yank. “There are things of this world that can’t be explained, Silverclaw, we both know that! But even then, your story lies between either being drunk or deranged!”   Silverclaw frowned very visibly. The words had hurt him more than the jabs he received in the ribs. “Then why did you believe me?” he snapped back.   “Because I know differently!” she replied so strongly that she nearly screamed at him. She paused and gazed at him for a moment with her emerald eyes; letting the words sink in. Finally, she released his tunic and sighed. “Because I know you,” she said in a softer whisper. “Trouble is…<i>he</i> doesn’t.”   Silverclaw looked at Esterah briefly before breaking their gaze. His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh and he humbly nodded an agreement. Perhaps he had been a bit too descriptive about their purpose here.   “Silver, dear,” she said in Common, her voice and smile sweet again. “Why don’t you go see you if you can retrieve any of our gear from the water while I stay and talk with the Dockmaster?”   Silverclaw silently nodded and stood, not trusting himself to say anything.   “Th-there’s a rowboat on the beach...if you didn't see it yet,” the Dockmaster said, and pointed nervously in the direction.   Silverclaw muttered his thanks and sulked off the dock. He would be doing a lot of thinking out in the waters. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

<p>(Chapt 3, Cont.)   “How did you do?” Esterah asked Silverclaw as he came back.   “Not too bad, really,” he replied and set the two packs on the shore. He looked around for their Human friend in time to see him climbing the nearby hill. “Most of the time I spent out there was done learning how to steer that thing and locating the bags. I estimate that the sea floor was only fifteen feet from the surface where we fell in and we were only twenty feet from the edge of the docks.” He jumped out of rowboat and secured it to the nearest post to the best of his abilities. “Funny thing how I could have sworn we were in fifty foot deep water and a good hundred from the shore.”   “Panic tends to exaggerate things,” Esterah said with a slight grin. “And the supplies?”   Silver opened his bag and began tossing thing out onto the shore. “Well, aside from the mushroom bread and spices, most of the food rations should be alright, if a little saltier. The rest of the gear looks like it will work sufficiently once dried out over a fire. We should find a way to dry the weapons and armor before they rust though. What did you learn from our furless friend?”   “Mmm?” Esterah asked, and then her eyes lit up when her memory caught up with her ears. “Oh, yes, the Dockmaster. We’re on an island that’s connected to the mainland by a rope-bridge. He mentioned he had a camp at the isle’s peak, and we were welcomed to stay the...” She turned away from him and her normally clear and confident voice became unusually timid. “...we were welcomed to stay.”   Silverclaw stopped inspecting the gear and looked up at the tigress. She was hugging herself tightly and rubbing her arms like she was trying to ward off a chill.</p><p>  “Esterah?” he asked standing and moving behind her. “Your still not thinking of yourself as excess baggage, are you?”   “No,” she replied shaking her head. “It’s...it’s only recently dawned on me that I’ll never see Shar Vahl again. No Teacher to listen to. No more meals of rockhopper meat and payala nectar.  No bed with sheets made of silkwom silk to lie in.”   Silverclaw solemnly nodded and gripped her shoulders with both hands. Esterah’s right hand came up to mesh her fingers in his. “No grimlings trying to shrink your head or sonic wolves trying to rip you to pieces...” he continued, trying to keep a straight face.   “Oh, stop it!” she said and playfully elbowed him in the stomach with her free arm. She was grateful for his humorous way of looking on the bright side, she really was. It gave her hope that she made the right decision in following him. This time however…She wiped any traces of a smile from her face. “You <i>know</i> that’s not what I mean.”</p><p>  “Sorry,” he said in all seriousness and sighed deeply. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. That very thought struck me while I was out on the boat. I guess I just didn’t want to bring it up. It was never easy leaving Shar Vahl for even other parts of Luclin, but back then, I knew I could always go back. Now all we can do is remember and keep it in our hearts. I knew this was something I was going to have to let go when I began packing, it’s why I was so set on leaving without a word. I thought I knew it even better when we stepped in front of that portal, but actually being here, it’s…” He stopped and looked all about them, taking the moment to absorb the surroundings.   “I know…it’s just all so vast…so new. I just have a hard time believing that I’m standing on the same circle of green and blue I saw in the sky every time I looked up.” She shook her head as she looked up and closed her eyes and tear fell down her cheek. “Not even the sky looks like what it should be. On Luclin, you could always know where you were on the surface as long as you could see the sky. Whether it was pitch dark or a bright white, I always could tell where I was.” She sighed deeply and opened her eyes to the heavens again, blinking away the tears. “But here, it's moving. Slowly, but surely, it’s moving. I haven’t even taken my first step off this shore, and already I feel like I'm lost.”   He allowed a moment to look up into the sky with her, tightly gripping her hand and shoulder. It was a clear and beautiful evening, even if it was their first on Norrath. “We’ll be fine, Esterah,” he assured her softly. “We will find a place for us in this new world.”   “You sound so certain.”   “I am,” he said and released her shoulder to wrap an arm over her. He hugged her close and nuzzled her cheek with the brow of his head. “As long as we have each other, I am.”   Despite her purring, Esterah turned her head to face him with a smirk. “Is this your idea of being romantic or just optimistic?”   “At little bit of both,” he answered with a warm smile. “Does it make you feel any better?”   She merely smiled back at him and affectionately nuzzled him brow-to-brow, purring loudly. ((Edit notes: Originally I wrote the Kerra language the Dockmaster was speaking sound really different to Silver's ears. I decided to leave it up to reader to decide on the differences in the speech when I realized that I'd have to be writing that kind of style with ever Kerra that the couple was going to meet. And who's to say what the exact differences between the languages are? It isn't going to be me.</p><p>Re-read, rewrote, and tried to add more detail to the whole chapter in general. Happy reading everyone!))</p>

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 4 Welcome to Antonica</b>   Esterah led the way up the beaten path where she had seen the Dockmaster depart sometime earlier, Silverclaw trudging closely behind her. One bag full of the equipment that survived the sea was tightly strapped across his back, and a long, bulky, leather roll that contained all their weapons and armor was straddled across his shoulders.   When Esterah’s eyes got above the ridge she stopped to take in the sight and scrambled up on all fours to climb to the top faster.   “Esterah?” Silverclaw called up after her, his face askew with puzzlement.   “Hurry up, you silkworm hatchling, and get your tail moving!” was her excited reply.   “It’s moving! It’s moving!” he huffed at her, and put extra effort in the last few steps of the steepest part of the slope. “But I don’t see what in Kerrath’s mane the big…” The last word dropped with his jaw when he stared out in awe over the newly revealed landscape.   Hidden from the little cove where the dock was were the great stone walls of a city that escaped description and size of anything he had seen or anything he had heard from his grandpa’s stories. It seemed to be built upon its own island, its cliffs barely touching the mainland by a few yards. Silverclaw’s gaze followed the facing wall north until it disappeared over the darkening horizon.   “Wow,” he whispered, fearing anything louder would break the spell the city has placed upon them.   “I never imagined Qeynos would be so big!” Esterah exclaimed. “It’s easily twice the size of Shar Vahl!”   Silverclaw’s brows came down from the top of his head and he frowned at that troubling observation. “Too big,” he said flatly. Esterah looked back at him in question. “Too big to be Qeynos, anyways.” His sigh was heavy with disappointment. “We arrived at the wrong place.”   “Eh, that’s where you’re wrong, my Kerran friend,” said a familiar voice in the Common tongue. The human they referred to as the Dockmaster casually strolled up behind them. “This is indeed the Qeynos that you’re seeking.”   Esterah smiled smugly at the dumbfounded warrior.   “But it’s so big!” Silverclaw continued to press. “Much bigger than the tales my grandfather told me!”   “Well, the city’s definitely grown some since your grandfather’s time I’m sure,” the Dockmaster explained and his friendly expression changed to a sober one as he looked out at the city. “When you’re housing what remains of all the good folk of Norrath, I guess that’s bound to happen to any city.”   “All folk?” Silverclaw asked. Each revelation was getting farther and farther from his expectations.   “Dwarves, Elves, Halflings, you name it. If there was ever a race that served to better the world of Norrath, you’re sure to find them here in the city of Qeynos. Even a few Froglocks can be seen here and there.” He turned his gaze to the couple. “You two aren’t the only one’s looking for new homes.”   “And what about Vah…eh…Kerra?”   The Dockmaster ignored the slip of the race and nodded in response. “Some of your kin are here as well, but you can join them later.” He motioned for them to follow him to the other side of the grassy plateau where several pitched tents were spread out. “Come, you can strike camp here, where it’ll be safe. I’m certain you two have had a hard day. Arriving in a new land and all…”   Silverclaw smiled inwardly as they followed him. He wanted to say that the land wasn’t the only new thing they arrived on, but he decided to keep that thought to himself.   “Silver?” Esterah called softly to him.   He looked down and could see baffled expression on her face.   She motioned him closer, so he tilted his head to the side and perked his ears as they kept walking.   “What’s a day?” she asked.   He didn’t answer but the smile spread across his face even wider. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 4, Cont.)   “Isn’t that a bit big for a cooking fire?” Silverclaw asked as he watched an armored guard put a torch into the center of large pile of wood.   “Aye, for a cooking fire it is,” the Dockmaster replied with a smile and a nod. The flame now climbed high above the head of the guard and the man was quick to back away. “But we’re not going to be using it for cooking, now are we?”   Silverclaw and Esterah exchanged looks and shrugged in unison.   “Oye, Willy!” the guard cried from where he stood and waved. “What kinda friends yah got fer us this night? A pair of Kerra, by the looks of it. Big ones, too! Must be <i>some</i> fish swimmin’ in those waters!”     “Willy?” Esterah asked, failing to suppress a giggle.   The Dockmaster’s shoulder’s hunched up and he hoped that the light was dim enough to hide the reddening in his face. “By Bayle‘s empty crown, Kaplan!” he exploded at the guard. “I told you a thousand times, not to call me Willy! It’s Dockmaster, or Dockmaster Wilson, or even just Wilson if you had a respectful bone in your body, but it is never, ever, Willy!”   “Ahright, ahright, Dockmaster Willy,” Kaplan said ignoring the dagger tipped scowl from his older friend and looked at the two Vah Shir. “But now yah gone and put me at a disadvantage. What’s the names of yer two friends? Or do we just give ‘em names like all pets?”   “<i>Pets?!</i>” Silverclaw and Esterah exclaimed at the same time. Silverclaw’s ears flattened and he growled audibly, but the show seemed to cause the guard’s broad smile to curl up even farther.   “Don’t mind him, good Kerran,” a woman’s voice called and the face attached to it became visible as she stepped in front of the fire, blocking its glow. Her blonde hair appeared darker in the wake of the fire’s bright light, as did her fair skin. “Our little Kappy has been like that since he was posted here.” The woman carried a line of fish in one hand as she approached and threw it, line and all, into the guard’s arms.   Silverclaw sniffed the bundle deeply and his mouth began to water. By their scent, they had just been recently smoked. The soft purring at his arm told him that Esterah was also deeply breathing in the aroma.   The guard quickly held the fish line up with one hand and wiped the scales and oils from his breastplate and arms with the other. “I’m a good head taller than you, Novak,” the guard grumbled defensively.   “Yes, but I’m older, and more experienced,” she stated and in a quick motion took off Kaplan’s helm before he could protest. His skin was a light brown in the light, just a shade lighter than his hair.   Silverclaw could see he was definitely younger than what his armor made him seem to be. As he reached down for his helm, Novak transferred it to her far hand and pinched the young guard’s cheek.   “And that means you’ll always be my little Kappy under all that plate you wear,” she said with puckered lips, wriggling the cheek back and forth with each syllable.   Dockmaster Wilson and Silverclaw grinned with guilty satisfaction as they watch the lesson in humility. Esterah brought a hand up to her muzzle to hide her own, and to stifle another giggle. She seemed absent to the fact, however, that her purring had grown even louder.   “Hey, hey! Leave off, will yah?” Kaplan cried, tugging his face away.   Novak smiled at him innocently as she held up the helm to the guard   “And yah wander why I wear my helm so of’en,” he huffed, snatching the helm and slapping it back over his head. “Gnoll claws and teeth got nuttin’ on those deceptively dainty fingers.”   “Oh, quit your whining boy and get dinner set up,” Wilson laughed, his anger completely gone. “Can’t you see we have guests, or does your helm cover your eyes, too?”   The youthful guard feigned a hurt expression and turned to make his way to some supplies in packs, barrels and crates. He still had enough mirth in him to call back in a singsong voice, “Aye, aye, Willy!”   Wilson couldn’t help grin when he saw Kaplan wisely put some extra step in his gait before a certain boot came up and gave the guard’s armored backside a hefty kick. The Dockmaster had the toe of his right boot reinforced with iron just for that purpose and he never missed an opportunity to use it. When he turned around, he found the two Kerra leaning on each other for support as they laughed loudly and shamelessly. With no one to lean on, Novak could only double over as she clutched her aching sides.   Dockmaster Wilson found the sound infectious and was soon joining in. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 4 Cont.)   After, more proper, introductions the two older humans and the two Vah Shir settled down on a pair of logs that ran parallel of each other. In the center, two barrels with a large wooden plank on top of them served as a makeshift table. Kaplan soon joined them with five clay plates and two wineskins. Both Vah Shir were delighted to find the skin tossed to them was filled with cold milk. The first few swallows were a bit salty and sandy since the skin had been buried in the moist sand close to the shore to keep the milk from spoiling, but neither complained.   Wilson spread a large skin of leather on the top of the barrel and Kaplan returned with the smoked fish and carefully set it on the skin, line and all. After the ritual of welcomes by the hosts and thanks by the guests…and the slapping of a few impatient hands, Silver’s included…dinner began.   Silverclaw sighed deeply and leaned back, one hand bracing him up and the other on top of his stomach. “That was some gooood fish!” he breathed with a wide grin, lightly patting his belly.   “Indeed,” Esterah purred and set her empty plate on top of Silver’s.   Novak, Kaplan, and Dockmaster Wilson sat across the two Vah Shir, each one still finishing the second helping of their dinner. For each helping the Humans finished the Vah Shir had already finished their second and were beginning on their third.   “Really?” Kaplan replied through a mouth full of food. He had taken off his gauntlets to eat, but continue to wear the helm since Novak sat within reach. He took some deep swallows from a nearby wineskin and wiped his mouth. “The way yah two inhaled them, I was beginning to wonder if Kerra even taste what they eat. That would begin to explain how someone could enjoy so much of Novak’s cooking.”   Novak picked up one of Kaplan’s gauntlets and promptly slapped him over the back of his helm without so much as taking her eyes off her plate. She set the gauntlet back down and picked a small fish bone from her own fillet as if nothing had happen.   Kaplan readjusted his helm moved his gauntlets to the other side of his seat, trying to hide his smile as his did so.   Silverclaw chuckled and looked out at the large fire at the edge of the island’s cliff in wonder. “So why build such a large fire for so few people?”   “Well,” the Dockmaster replied. “It’s much easier than rebuilding a lighthouse after each of those god-sent earthquakes. Once things begin to settle down, we’ll build a real lighthouse on this isle. Something that can last several nights with an oil flame instead of gathering enough timber each night to build a house with.”   “I bet the quakes haven’t made it easy on the city either,” Esterah quietly commented.   Wilson nodded. “It’s been a grave ordeal. Walls that were rebuilt after the Rallosian War crumbled again. Refugees that left for that last defense can’t go home again. Paths that were made for horses are divided by miles of choppy unfamiliar seas.”   “The Qeynos Guard seems to be holding up to any gnolls foolish enough to come near the borders and bridges” Novak added and took a swallow of the wineskin and sighed. “But anywhere beyond that is not a question of asking if you’ll find trouble, but just a matter of when it finds you.”   “Except for here, of course,” Wilson reassured their guests.   “Yeah,” Kaplan agreed with a wry smile and an elbow nudge. “No gnoll would dare sneak up on this camp at night. Willy snores so loud that all animals in the area run away in fear that a hungry dragon is…” The young guard was interrupted as one of his gauntlets slapped him once again across the backside of his protected head.   “What the boy here means,” the Dockmaster said as he calmly put the gauntlet back on the log. “Is that with us being so close to the southern gates of the city and the regular patrols that bring our supplies and escort refugees to the city proper, the gnolls are smart enough to stay away.”   “This is the third time that I heard the mention of gnolls,” Silverclaw observed. “What exactly are gnolls?”   “They don’t have them where you’re from, eh?” Wilson asked and the both Vah Shir nodded simultaneously. The man’s nod was accepting. “Let’s see…how to put it? Best way to describe a gnoll is humanoid about a man’s height with a dog-like head and furry body. They’re cunning and ruthless with a firm belief that other beings were made for either food or enslaving.”   The idea of dogs walking and capable of some intelligence wasn’t very pleasing to either of their guests and both pairs of feline ears flattened back at the description.   “They despise manual labor and generally live off of the raiding easy targets or scavenging the abandoned ones,” Novak added. “In broken tribes, they’re more of a nuisance—but when one of them gets enough brains to organize the rest of its friends—well, the threat they pose can become a real one.”   “Does the guard need an extra sword arm?” Silverclaw asked and Esterah gave him a look that made him quickly add, “…or two?”   “Mercenaries, eh?” Wilson stated as he studied them.   Silverclaw splayed his hands before him and shrugged. “More adventures than mercenaries. I’d get…anxious…sitting behind the walls of a protected city. Really, I’m just looking to help in the best way I know how.”   Esterah, Novak, and Wilson smiled warmly at the answer, their eyes glowing with respect. Even Kaplan’s smile was filled mostly with admiration than his usual mirth. Mostly.   “If yer really wanting to be of help to someone, I wouldn’t be lookin’ at draftin’ to the guard as the way to do it unless yah want to be stuck on a borin’ outcrop of land with a pair of old dotards,” the younger man said. He wasn’t slapped across the back of his head this time—since he was confidently sitting on top of both gauntlets. Even then, the precaution proved unnecessary...for the moment.   Wilson actually chuckled. “For once, the boy has a point,” he said and openly laughed as everyone, including Kaplan, at the table looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t question the leaders’ judgment of where to post a guard where…” His voice lowered in volume for a moment as he grumbled, “…except maybe the one they put here.” He raised his voice again to continue. “But I don’t think that enough guards are being spared for where they are most needed.”   Silverclaw turned his ears ahead and leaned forward. “And where do you think they are most needed?” he echoed.   The Dockmaster smile returned. “I’ve gotten word that a farmer family known as the Sayers have been trying to reclaim their homestead from the wilds of the area. The city council granted them some protection and guards, but not enough I believe if they saw the value of such a fortification instead of keeping their noses buried in their own overstuffed suits.” Wilson stopped when he realized he had been shouting that last statement. He sighed and rubbed his knotted brows until he felt he had relaxed enough to continue. “My apologies. Ever since Kane Bayle betrayed Qeynos during the War of the Plagues, the council, and even Lord Bayle, seem to be preparing more for treachery from within than looking to the city’s troubles now. I can’t say I blame them since the entire city nearly fell because of Kane. He may have been Anotonious’s half-brother, but he was still a Bayle!”   Wilson sighed again and waved his hand as if he could fan away the depressing matter from the camp like stray smoke. “Anyways, my point is if you’re looking to help someone, it will be the Sayers. Once properly fortified and supplied I think it will become a vital outposts for trade routes and further patrols farther east into Antonica. <i>If</i> the king and the council learn to look outside the palace walls.”   Silver nodded, genuinely happy for the chance to make a difference. “Thank you for the information. We’ll find them as soon as pos—,” Silverclaw found himself yawning widely at the word “soon” and stretching his hands far ahead him, his fingers clawing at the air between his legs. “Possible,” he finished.   Esterah smiled and managed to partially cover her mouth when the infectious yawn spread to her. “If you don’t mind me asking, Dockmaster Wilson, how does a harbor man know so much about a farmer family?”   “My family used to be neighbors with the Sayers,” he said with a sad smile. He stretched his arms to the sky and shook his head to keep awake. “At least until the quakes broke up our land and raised it on a mountain peak. I still make it a point to find out how the family is doing, though. Their good folk and really deserve more than what this world’s dealt them.”   Esterah ears flattened, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”   Wilson waved the matter away as he did before and stood up. “Forget it. I always enjoyed fishing better than plowing anyways. Well, you two should get some rest. Enjoy it while you can and while the earth is still.”   “Good night,” Novak nodded as she stood as well. “Was a pleasure meeting the both of you.”   Kaplan kept seated on his platted gloves as he grinned impishly. “Hey, Miss Esterah. If the night gets too cold when Silverclaw takes his turn fer watch, I can keep his spot warm.” Novak smoothly plucked the helm from Kaplan’s head and Wilson vigorously slapped the back of the exposed skull. ((Edit notes: Again re-reading the chapters and trying to pluck out mistakes and clear out any places that I think are a bit blurry. I noticed that I gave Kaplan an accent in the beginning, and then for no reason he dropped it. Now Kaplan is speaking like I want him to. I've also done a little research on the Bayle's and that their family didn't end at the war of the plauges. So I put a King Bayle in for the Rending time as appropriate. Enjoy!))

[SilverclawII]

<p><b>Chapter 5 May the Spirits Watch Over You</b>   Silver extended a plated hand out to Dockmaster Wilson as he and Esterah exchanged farewells with the three humans that had welcomed them so warmly to Norrath’s surface. Outfitted with fresh, dry supplies and invaluable information, the two Vah Shir felt more gratitude than they could express. That didn’t stop them from trying, however.   “Thank-you, Dockmaster,” Silverclaw said gripping the man’s hand tightly. “You’ve done so much for us; I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you.”   Wilson smiled up at the tiger-man and shook the hand vigorously. “Just get to the Sayers farmland as soon as you can, and I’ll be assured that these supplies are put to good use.” He noted that the plated glove covered all of his new friend’s hand. All, that is, except for the last digit of each finger.   He saw the same strange design for the open-toed boots as well. Except for the end of his toes and fingers, Silverclaw was covered in heavy plate armor from neck to foot. It had confused him until he saw the warrior fit his hand into one of the gloves and flex his fingers experimentally, baring and retracting the sharp claws in the process.   It became apparent to the Dockmaster that a Kerra’s claws must be a weapon of last resort. However, he really doubted that this one would be forced to use them. Silverclaw had enough weapons to arm a small escort.   On his back, a battle-axe swung from a leather strip. Beneath the axe two swords lay in their sheaths in the dual-wielding cross fashion. Each forearm sported a dagger, held upside-down in their sheaths by specially designed snaps. A keen-edged scimitar that he wore on his left hip along with a large, metal round shield strapped on top of that completed the formidable looking arsenal.   Despite the heavy burden, Silverclaw’s encumbrance was slight and he moved apparent grace and ease. But with so little space left, Silverclaw had to carry the rest of his supplies in one hand.   “Do you remember my directions?” Wilson asked, addressing both newfound friends.   “Follow the path that runs with the city wall until we arrive at the first gate,” Esterah repeated. “After that we are to turn…” She paused since she was still unfamiliar with names of the directions on Norrath’s surface. So instead she pointed at the sun rising in east. “That way and follow the road until we catch up with the Sayers’ company. We’ll get there,” she promised, covering her chest with her treasured harp and making a small bow.   Esterah was an experienced Jharin, a bard as they were more commonly known on Norrath. Even though she wore just a studded leather tunic and greaves and carried only a needle-sharp epée for a weapon, her finally crafted harp combined with her magical songs could keep her protected and armed as well as her mate.   Well...“mate-to-be”, really. It just occurred to Esterah that they didn't know where they would find a Dar Khura in this strange world to properly marry them.   For Esterah and Silverclaw, the “wed-before-bed” was a standard they took pride in as Vah Shir, proving themselves to truly possess deep emotions and morals. Something that their quadruped, far-relations didn’t have.   She wondered what would happen if they couldn’t find a shaman to perform the spirit-binding rituals. Would they need to rely on a furless shaman instead? She decided to put the troubling thought behind her for now.   “I’m sure you will,” Wilson nodded. “Well, just one thing left to say…” He grabbed Silverclaw by the wrist and clapped the top of the plated forearm with his other hand. “May the spirit protect you,” he said in the Kerra language.   The tradition farewell was a welcome surprise for the Vah Shir couple. They smiled warmly at the small piece that reminded them of their home. Silverclaw mirrored Wilson’s actions and returned with the matching reply, “May the spirits watch over you.”</p><hr />  Once they crossed the rope bridge to the main land, both stared to gaze at the land in the morning light with new admiration.   On Luclin, the land never took on a different appearance since the skies appeared to be frozen in time. Now upon Norrath, the hills and plains of Antonica took Silverclaw and Esterah’s breath away for a second time as the light and shadows played upon the land in a completely new perspective.   “So this is morning,” Silverclaw said softly. The sight reminded him of the stories his grandfather told and caused his eyes to water. He carefully wiped the tears from his eyes and sighed deeply.   Esterah eyes were watering as well, but these came from what seemed to be her tenth yawn this morning. “It is beautiful,” she admitted and rubbed an eye with the heel of her palm. “I just wish it had stayed beneath the horizon for a few more hours.”   Silverclaw chuckled upon hearing that, and that drove away the melancholy mood. He had been grateful for her company since they left the gates of their home and, not for the first time, thought that he must have been crazy for thinking that he could have done this alone. “Perhaps a song would help wake you up,” he suggested with a wink. “And a bit of a jog afterwards.”   Esterah nodded knowingly and put her ebony wood harp up to play. She had done this countless times in the past right before the party left on an errand or hunt. “Just a little something to help the journey go faster,” she said with a smile.   “That,” Silver agreed and added, “And I enjoy hearing you play.”   For a moment, Esterah’s fingers froze right before she could pluck the first string. She looked up at her beloved Silver, an amused smile on her face, and then began to play, strumming the harp-strings with the back of her fingers so as to ward against accidentally severing one with her claws. She repeated the little ditty a few times more, increasing the tempo a little with each repetition.   When the last, pure note sang in the air, Silverclaw opened his eyes and began clapping his hands with a little measure of dignity. Esterah giggled, and bowed before her audience of one. “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” she said when she straightened up. “If we don’t leave soon, it’ll be lastfeast before we find the Humans’ camp. And that’s with the song’s magic.”   “Right,” Silverclaw agreed and they immediately took off down the trail together with speeds faster than most horses. Even with weight of his weapons and armor bearing on shoulders, the tiger felt like he could run forever. <hr />  A guard stationed at Qeynos’s southern gate kept a vigilant watch on the ground before him. More specifically, his watch was on the slowly moving shadow of a dagger he had imbedded in the dirt at sunrise. Judging its length, he guessed he had about an hour before the next shift would replace his post.   “Just one more hour,” he muttered softly and leaned as far back as the three-legged stool he sat on would allow him. He stretched his arms high above his head and his yawn was loud and long. It had been an early and uneventful morning.   The sound of metal plates grating against one another interrupted his thoughts about a hot plate and a tall, foaming mug. He opened his eyes to the look for the source when he was so startled to see two, very large Kerra standing within arm’s reach that he lost his balance and fell back in a crash of plates and limbs.   That in turn surprised Silverclaw, who had just opened his mouth, and gave him second thoughts about verifying their directions here. He quickly motioned Esterah that they should go and they speedily went off down the dirt path.   By the time the unfortunate guard had picked himself back up, all that remained of their passing was the dust settling back on the ground. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 5, Cont.)   When the road forked to the south the two companions ignored it and kept their sights on eastern horizon’s slopping hills. The deep ruts from the wheels of a supply wagon (and the occasional piles of waste left by some beast of burden) assured them that they were still headed in the right direction. A nice feeling since the road, which was more a beaten path than a road, was so overgrown in some places that they would loose sight of it for several yards.   For all the potholes, root clusters, and whatever hazard the path threw at them, Esterah thought that they were making good progress. They were just entering a small valley between two hills when she heard Silverclaw’s feet tear up grass and dust as he skidded to an abrupt halt. She turned her head and went down to a sliding stop, turning her body at the same time. In the next moment she was up and head to his side.   She began to ask him why he had stopped without signaling when Silver held up a hand for silence.   The bard didn’t argue. She had seen this before and had learned early on their travels together that when the warrior became still and quiet, it was best to follow suit and wait for him to speak first.   Esterah took in a deep breath to calm the anxiety she felt rising in her. As she did she picked up an ominous scent floating on the slight breeze that flowed through the valley. It made the hair on her neck stand on end and her ears flattened against her head as she turned back to the east.   “Is that…?” Esterah whispered.   “Blood,” Silverclaw finished with a low growl.   The two quickly exchanged looks, each conveying their concerns and conclusions. Then, as one, they bolted down the road toward the conflict.   Each knew there was no guarantee that it was the Sayer party under attack, but that fact hardly mattered. Even if it was just a single traveler, it didn’t matter in the eyes of either. Silverclaw had come to Norrath to make a difference, big or small, and Esterah had come to aid him in that cause. They could only hope that they would be in time to get that chance.   Soon, the howling of a viscous pack of dogs could be heard over the whistle of the rushing wind and the scent of the blood grew stronger as they ran. These fueled their sense of urgency and pushed them to run all the faster. Mere seconds passed before the obscuring hills revealed the southern landscape and the battle in its happening. Silverclaw gave the single for them to stop at a vantage point several yards away.   Always the tactic fighter, the Khala Dun quickly studied the situation. It did appear to be a caravan of some sort, and likely the Sayers’ company. The caved-in walls of an old farmhouse standing within a few yards of the main camp seemed to be too big of a coincidence for the group to be otherwise.   Two, large wagons were in splinters on the camp’s south side, the remains of a makeshift barrier. A horde of creatures—gnolls, by their appearance—was clawing and snapping through the defensive gap, trying to overrun the four standing guards with their sheer numbers.   One fighter in a chainmail shirt; a female, by Silver’s guess, though at this distance he couldn’t be sure; was single-handedly holding the right half of the gap. Her long sword dipped and weaved and each strike bit deeply into gnoll flesh. The blade continued to glow through the stains of the dark blood that covered it.   Two of the camp’s original six defenders were out of the fight. One was on the ground and lying very still in a puddle of dark blood. The other was being carried away by two brave souls from the camps main body. The guard was screaming and howling with all his might as he clutched the shattered kneecap with both hands.   Despite these losses, Silverclaw thought that the defenders would hold against the raid until Esterah grabbed him by his plated shoulder.   “Silverclaw, look!” she shouted and pointed to a gentler slope to the northeast.   “Ah, suffering spirits!” he cursed as he saw eight more gnolls charge down the hill.   “We’ve got to stop them before they reach the camp!” Esterah cried and drew her epée. “Those folk in the ruined structure will be cut down before the guards realize they’ve been ambushed!”   “Then they need to be warned!” Silver added and gripped the her by the shoulder. “Get to the camp. I’ll intercept this new group,” he told her and shook his head when she opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t worry about me! After all…” He turned to the charging gnolls with a grim smile. “…there’s only eight of them.”   “Be careful,” Esterah told him. Silverclaw merely nodded and the sprinted down the rest of the way. “I mean it, Silverclaw!” she shouted at him as they parted ways.   “I will!” he shouted over his shoulder and continued running forward.   Esterah exasperated sigh wasn’t an unfamiliar one. Even if his plan to split up was a sound one, she had read his intentions from the beginning. Silver throws himself in harms way, and she gets sent where she’ll be the most protected. It touched her deeply and frazzled her nerves at the same time. Both knew she was quite capable of taking care of herself, and still Silverclaw would (and has in the past) throw himself in between her and a swinging sword.   Still, she wasn’t as worried for the Khala Dun’s safety as she had so openly protested. After all, there had been only eight. She shared in Silver’s earlier smile and wondered what those canine faces would look like when Silverclaw erupted into that unique fighting style that was the Viswords’ heritage. ((Edit Notes: I had always known that the Shar Vahl fighters were known as Khala Dun and their shamans were call Dar Khura in EQ1. I had forgotten, however, the name for their bards. Looked it up, found them to be called Jharin and added the name to the story as another reference to Esterah. Found some typos that were missed by the spell checker. Fixed those and hopefully cleared up some blurry descriptions such as Silverclaw’s arsenal and his sudden stop in the valley. Happy reading everyone!))

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 6 Legacy of the Viswords </b>   The band of gnoll raiders howled and barked with excitement when they reached the bottom of the hill. Saliva flowed from their jaws in anticipation of easy kills as they raced down the trail. While the first pack kept the camp’s fighters distracted, this band would fall upon the weak and the wounded like a sickle through a field of golden wheat. With such thoughts of chaos and conquest, the gnolls were confused when they recognized the light reflecting off of plate-armor charging in their direction with equal speed.   Confused, but hardly frightened. With the odds eight-to-one in their favor, they charged forward with reckless abandon. Soon they would be dragging this foolish warrior’s body and equipment back to the lair with their victims.   Or so they believed.   About thirty yards away, Silverclaw picked out a gnoll in the cluster as he continued to race ahead. He reached for the hilt right behind the base of his neck, the hilt of a double-headed battle-axe. He dipped his shoulder and his arm and hand followed. In a single, smooth motion, he drew and pitched the axe with all his considerable strength.   <i>One!…</i>   The heavy blade struck the lead gnoll in the center of its left eye, cleaving the socket and skull, and sent its lifeless body crashing into two of its charging comrades. The gnoll’s charge come to a complete halt as the remaining gnolls stopped and gawked at the pile of tangled limbs and fur behind them.   To avoid loosing any momentum, Silverclaw hopped twice on his right foot as he recovered from the throw and continued to close the distance between him and the gnolls. He folded his arms, his hands gripping the hilts of the knives that stuck out just at his elbows. With a small tug, the snaps that kept them upside-down in their sheaths released.   “Hmph,” he smirked when he saw the gnolls still gawking at the first hit. “Dumb as grimlings,” he said to himself, remembering the nasty, dirty humanoids he once fought outside Shar Vahl’s gates. And before the last words had left his mouth, he opened his arms and the daggers flew simultaneously from both his hands.   <i>Two! Three!…</i>   Silverclaw never stopped moving as he mentally counted off. His hands continued in the circle of the throw, going out and up where they closed about the hilts at his shoulders.   The gnoll to Silver’s right died almost instantly as the knife pierced its heart. The one to his left doubled-over, gripping the blade imbedded up to the hilt in its gut. Even as they dropped to the ground, the warrior had closed the last ten yards and was bearing upon the three behind them.   The center gnoll, armed with only with a wooden cudgel, quickly jumped back to a safe distance. The two on the flanks had longer reaching spears, and as one, they lunged at charging warrior.   The tiger-man came in at the gnoll on the right, shoulder leading, both swords still in their sheaths, and his arms raised vulnerably high. The left spearhead barely grazed his abdomen, but the right solidly connected with his open side—where the crude flint blade broke with a loud snap against the tempered breastplate!   Silverclaw allowed himself a smiled and shouted, “Four!…” as he dipped his shoulder in very much the same way he had used to throw the axe at the beginning of the battle. The longsword’s blade came out of its sheath with little resistance and the strength of the arm wielding it bore the gnoll and its broken weapon to ground, striking the side of its neck and cleaving it clear to the collarbone.   “Five!” the warrior roared, and the lighter, slender sword in his left hand sang as it arced through the air with lighting speed. The gnoll brought the wooden pole of its spear up to deflect the attack. The keen edge cut through the wood, the bone between the gnoll’s wide eyes, and the brain matter beneath it. He tugged the bloody blade back with a jerk, and let the newest corpse fall back to the ground.   The Khala Dun calmly turned to face the three remaining gnolls. His sword points confidently lowered to the ground; his stance in perfect balance. His deadly dance had come to a brief intermission as he waited for his enemies to make the first move.   This was the legacy of his family.   This was why he was called Silverclaw of the Six Swords. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

Silverclaw II wrote: Edit Notes: Well, I've just began reading some stories here on the forums and noticed that some authors post the scrip they want read larger than regular chat and replies. So, I've gone and added each chapter it's title name in the message body. Being in just the subject I don't think worked out really well. I tried to edit the size of the text of each chapter, but for some reason that's been driving me up and down the virtual walls , I can't apply this effect to the Introduction, Chapter 1, and Chapter 2. At least chapters 3 through 6 (and hopefully all future additions) now have larger text which I hope makes them easier to read. I also decided to change the name of the story yet a second time. I DO have a second part in the making at the same time, though I'd like the first to be finished before I begin to post the second. Dying for feedback here so if anyone has read this, please let me know. Like it? Hate it? I'm interested in hearing either way. Message edited by SilverclawII on 05/15/2007 17:20:51.

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 6, Cont.)   “It’s impossible, grandpa!” a young Silverclaw protested from where he had fallen. Since he had been admitted as a Khala Dun Apprentice, his grandfather took it upon himself to personally train the young warrior.   “No it isn’t,” his grandfather told him as-matter-of-factly. “You know how to throw an axe. You know how to throw two knives at once. You know how to draw two swords from your shoulder, or a single one from your hip. You can do this!”   “Individually perhaps…” Silverclaw <i>III</i> hesitantly admitted. Then, in a fluster, he threw down all his equipment to arena floor. “But not together, and not with this pile of rejects from the blacksmith…” The cub stopped when he looked up to see his grandfather frowning down on him. There and then, Lil’ Silver knew he had crossed a line. They locked stares until, finally, the younger lowered his eyes and hung his head in shame.   Without as much as a word of rebuke, Silverclaw <i>I</i> walked past the rebellious pupil to the pile of discarded weapons. He bent down, picked up the axe from the pile, and gently brushed off the dirt from its dual blades. “This axe,” he explained softly. “Was given to me by the Dwarven Stormguard from Kelethin. Dwarves are a stout folk, the tallest barely reached my waist, but they have hearts as big as the mountains they called home. It was made for Dwarven hands and height, but I found it's perfect balance and weight to be the perfect first strike in combat.”   He continued to pick up each weapon and describe who gave them to him and where.   The two “knives” were actually small swords made for races even smaller than the Dwarves. One came from the Gemchoppers of Ak’Anon, a noisy city filled with ever-busy Gnomes and their moving, metal servants, the clockworks.   The other came from the Guardians of the Vale, the Halfling regiment that made up the guard of Rivervale. In their home, the Halflings were generally carefree, and their hospitality and food were unmatched. Outside it, however, was proof of their perfect knowledge of the danger that lurked outside their protected homes, and a great wall constructed to keep such dangers from their doors.   “This sword was given to me by the Koada'Vie, or the Felwithe Defenders, as the High Elven fighters were more commonly known back then,” Silverclaw <i>I</i> continued. He swung the light longsword through the air; the metal blade sang. “Light and still strong. Beautiful to behold on moment, and deadly in the next. I can describe the Elves and their weapons all at once.”   He picked up the last of blade, another longsword and looked to Silverclaw <i>III</i> to be certain the cub was still paying attention. “Humans are an interesting lot. Amongst them I have seen the best and the worst, and all in the same city and the same day. The sword is from the Knights of Truth. Against the corrupted leaders that ruled Freeport, they fought for their oppressed kin. In the face of great adversity, I saw in them a rare and great strength.”   The elder Khala Dun stepped to the thirty yard mark and asked, “Do you know why I tell you this, Lil’ Silver?” His grandson shook his head. “So many races that I’ve seen do so much good, even more than the ones that I’ve spoken of, and each different in their own ways. Many say it would be impossible for them to live and work together peacefully, much like you have said it’s impossible for these five weapons to work in concert. They state that such diversity in a party creates great weakness.” He pointed to the wooden practice dummies at the end of the arena. “Watch them,” he instructed.   Lil’ Silver did as he was told, and a split second latter the axe struck the front dummy in the center and carried to the wall. Four counts later: two dummies had the knives embedded up to the hilts in their “heads”, and two more had be cleanly cut in half. It had all happened so fast that the apprentice wasn’t certain when his grandfather left the thirty yard mark or when he appeared in the center of the devastated group with both swords drawn.   “I however,” Silverclaw the First said as he stood and faced his young charge. “Believe it to be their greatest strength. Everyone has something they are best at. Something that were trained or even born to be. Some Khala Dun, some Dar Khura, some Taruun…” He looked up to the sky where Norrath hung above. “...and some other paths that our people have yet to discover. When each member focuses on their individual strengths, instead of the others’ weaknesses, then, my boy, you’ll find that there is nothing you can’t do.”   “Now,” he said to his grandson and tossed the lighter of the two swords. “Try again, and this time count with each weapon you draw. It will help guide your hands while you keep your feet moving at the same time.” To be continued... (I like to post what little I have each chapter, even if it's incomplete. I hope I'm doing it at the right spots and keeping the readers hooked? Any thoughts about this trip down memory lane? Is it a nice detour? Or too far off the beaten path? Please, let me know what you think.)

[SilverclawII]

Some more recent bumps and feedback, hopefully I'm a little wiser and all the bumps have been flattened out. niko_teen Wrote: Well I'm not exactly caught up with your storyline. To be brutally honest the enlarged text is the majoriety of the reason that I have not done so. Sow When ig et home this afternoon i can drop all of it into a word doc and print it to read but int he mean time I sent you a PM, respond if you will. SilverclawII Wrote: Ah, thanks for the feedback on how the pages look. Apparently too big can be as bad as too small. Filters here seem to block access to the windows clipboard, so I don't have access to the Paste tool, so the only tools I got work with is what the forum gives. I've reduced all the chapters that I could to "Font Size 1", though here on the forums, it's still much larger than the regular print, which I think is too small for reading on the screen. At least it's smaller than "Font Size 3". Thanks once again. niko_teen Wrote: font size 1 = 8point text font size 2 = 10 point text - The standard across the forums. SilverclawII Wrote: A little confused since the forum font still looks much larger than 8 point, but that's okay. Ah...mouse wheel...I see. Whoops! Things should be all better now. Message edited by SilverclawII on 05/22/2007 09:28:03. Amethest Wrote: lurking am interested enough to read more and see how this unfolds..hang in there and keep working at it..I think you will be fine. SilverclawII Wrote: Sorry, no real new content I've run into a little problem. Can anyone help me out? I've gone through the introduction and Chapters 1 through 5 and did a little rereading, general cleanup, and adding some more detail. My problem is that my edits in chapters 2 through 4 have too big of bodies to post! Any suggestions on what I should do? Keera Wrote: I think Niko had the same problem trying to fix some things in old posts, I dont think there is anything you can do... SilverclawII Wrote: Ugh...that's not good news... I thought about it and wondered if I could clear the content of this thread, get it locked up, and post a new thread with the larger chapters broken up. My thought was to either add to the end of the title (Trashed) with a link to the new thread, and/or add to the new thread (2nd Edition) or something similiar. Can this be done? Would the moderators have any problem with this? SilverclawII Wrote: Good news, a moderator has told me I'll be able to fix my lack of space trouble by getting this one kicked (reported) and starting a new one. I'll try to keep any feedback given in the new thread. Even...the little bit when I had trouble with font.... If anyone else is having trouble with their edited chapters being too big, take a look at thread "Author Trouble" underneath the "Forum Help and Discussion" part of the "Help Desk." I know this is a bit of a drastic measure, and a real pain for those of you that have those really long stories, but for me I'll be happy to post the story the way I want it to be read. Happy Memorial Day everyone, and keep writing...or reading...or lurking...whatever it is you do. Keera Wrote: Cool, that's great to hear! I really like your story, I have only just started reading it but, so far it leaves me wanting more, which is always a good thing. ;o) Keep up writing!

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 6, Cont.)   Now a stronger, faster, and more experienced fighter, Silverclaw III’s observance of the three remaining gnolls assured him that any real threat they posed was finished. Gnolls were a cowardly lot. This he gathered from their use of overwhelming odds and ambush to their advantage. Now that the gnolls had lost both advantages, this battle was over. And still, they refused to surrender.   The two, larger, gnolls of the group seemed more than willing draw blood for all their barking and growling, but the show was all bark and no bite as neither wanted to be the first to engage combat. Whether it was to appear intimidating or just to hide their fears, the bluff was a poor one.   Perhaps this was in part to the smallest of their little company. The third gnoll, the one that had just escaped the fates of the two spear bearers, planted its paws to the ground where it stood and tucked its tail between its legs. The pathetic wooden club it held tightly in front of its body might as well have been a piece of fire kindling for all the confidence it provided.   Silver knew, and rightly guessed that the gnolls knew it as well, that if they decided to attack, it would be out of desperation. All that would ensue would be a pointless slaughter. The scent of the blood-soaked ground and the filthy dogs caused the Vah Shir to flare his sensitive nostrils several times.   Silverclaw did not enjoy slaughter. Such ruthless practice was the work of the poachers and monsters like the ones he faced off. He was neither.   He ignored the aggressive gnolls and focused intently on the one that was on the very edge of panic. A sly smile crossed his face as an idea that could forgo the unnecessary bloodshed took form.   He squared away and crossed his arms and swords in front him. The sudden stance made the two large gnolls go suddenly quiet while the third let out a loud yelp of terror. All three tensed and waited for the tiger-man to make the next move.   Silver’s sly smile broadened to a toothy grin. <i>If these dogs aren’t going to surrender,</i> he thought. <i>Then perhaps they’ll settle for a cowardly retreat.</i>   With dramatic flare, he took a large step forward, threw his hands behind him and roared at the top of his large lungs.   That was all the encouragement that was needed.   The already terrified gnoll threw its useless stick to the ground and barreled its way past its two, more stubborn, packmates for the hill they had came over. Its frightened whines followed the whelp all the way to the deeper caverns of the mountain lair.   Startled and unstable, the gnolls that were left behind toppled back and fell hard on their seats. With a stream of curses in their barking language, they clawed and tore at the ground as they struggled to get their hind legs beneath them and quickly followed the deserter.   Silverclaw stood up just in time to see them disappear over the hill’s summit. Feeling very smug for finding a way bring the fight to an end without further conflict, he bent down to clean his two swords of the foul-smelling blood.   The smug smile disappeared when he felt the tinge that something was wrong. He stood and saw one of the fleeing gnolls upon the hillside, barking a chant and waving an effigy made of small animal bones in the air. To be continued... (First piece of new material since the 1st edition messup and 2nd edition revival. Woohoo! It just didn't feel right to post all old material.)

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 6, Cont.)   A fetid cloud enveloped him. Small, sickly green spores dotted his armor where the mist settled, and it finally dawned on him that he had been struck by a disease-inducing spell. That knowledge did him little good now, however, and he felt the contents of his stomach begin churning and the bile rise up his throat. He dropped the sword in his right hand and covered to his mouth to fight the flow back down. Even then it was only moments before he doubled-over and spilled the remains of that morning’s firstfeast.   The magical sickness passed his stomach finally settled down, but the heaves had weakened him all the same and left his arms and legs feeling like rubber. He lifted his head weakly and wiped the traces stomach juices from his chin. That was when he saw the second gnoll bearing down on him with the same battle-axe he had used to slay the first of their party in its grimy paws.   “Seven-hundred-suffering-spirits!” Silverclaw muttered, cursing the gnolls for their stubbornness and himself for letting his guard down so soon and so easily. He was told of the gnolls’ cunning, and still he had let his pride and small victory get the better of his judgment.   The rampaging gnoll raised the stolen weapon high over its head. Now it would avenge the humiliating defeat of the raid and the deaths of it s packmates! And the status it would earn if it could claim victory. The prospect of leading a much larger raiding party of its own, or maybe even its own pack as subchief drove it eagerly onward with reckless abandon!   Silver raised the remaining sword in defense, but his movements felt sluggish, and the blade shook in his usually steady hand. It would take all his remaining strength to fend off that first wild swing. All he could do was hope that it was enough.   Then the ground shook. The tremor was small, probably just a dying echo of the earthquakes that tore the continents apart. It lasted only for a second, two at the most, but it was just enough to make the gnoll miss a step and lose its footing.   Never one to question good fortune, Silverclaw ducked and let his opponent’s hazardous momentum do the rest.   The gnoll went over the Vah Shir’s plated back and crash-landed headfirst into the dirt after sailing a good six feet through the air. It spat out tufts of grass and curses as it picked itself back up, furious at this ever-troublesome cat-warrior and at the god Brell for his interference. It wanted to be done with this kill and be gone before…   The evil creature’s last thought was by interrupted by a sudden sharp pain that pierced its back. It looked down, and to its surprise, saw the thin, gleaming blade of an epée sticking out of its chest.   Esterah let the gnoll hang on her sword just long enough for it to comprehend its fate. Then with a twist and jerk, she pulled the epée out of its back and the gnoll died the same moment its body hit the ground.   “You promised you’d be careful,” she chastised the kneeling fighter. She hooked her ebony harp in place and reached down to help her beloved companion up. “Really, Silver, what would you do without…”   “Get down!” he cried and pulled her down by the same hand she’d offered to pull him up with. He pulled the large round shield off its straps and braced it up on the ground behind them. Half-a-second later, the second spell hit.   A frigid blast of wind struck the shield. Silverclaw tucked his head and wrapped his free arm protectively around Esterah. The wind flowed around the enchanted metal; the ground on their left and right were covered in a layer of gray frost.   When the air had become still again the two Vah Shir cautiously opened their eyes.   “How did you…?” Esterah asked, amazed, but not quite sure how to voice her question.   Silver understood perfectly what she meant. “I could hear the spirits,” he answered. “That desecrating dog is using them to cast spells!”   “Are you saying that last monster is a Dar Khura?” she exclaimed, very surprised at this revelation.   “No, young one,” answered a much huskier female voice.   The two turned to see a female Kerra in a sparkling chainmail shirt. Bright yellow eyes gleamed from the shadow of the brown-green cloak and cowl the Kerra had draped over her head and shoulders. In one of her furry hands was a large spear that she used as a walking stick.   “There’s a key difference between their shamans and ours,” she growled, approaching the frozen ground as if she had all the time in the world. “We Mystics, ask the spirits for their help and guide those willing through the Grey. While the gnolls, and all the other dark-hearted souls that practice the Defiler’s art, compel and control.” She stopped and fixed her yes on the remaining gnoll in the distance.   The gnoll Defiler had turned to flee for good this time, but when it looked back and met those piercing yellow eyes, it sat back on its haunches; its face was completely drained of all aggression as it stared into the empty sky.   The calming spirits directed by the Kerra Mystic had trapped it completely in the spell.

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 7 Lady Sayer and the Gnoll Slayer </b>   “Good work, Mirabelle,” said another female voice, this one in the Common tongue. A Human woman approached the Kerra, her cold smile directed at the entranced gnoll.   It was the same Human Silverclaw had seen holding off the right front on her own before he and Esterah entered the fray. She was covered in crusty, drying blood, most of it belonging to the gnolls she recently slew. Still, the gray streaks in her dark hair and the worry lines etched deeply into her face made it clear that she was in her late forties, more than half the average lifespan for most Humans. It surprised the spry warrior to see such an aged woman carry that twinkling sword as comfortably as a sewing needle.   “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mesmerize a foe from so far away before,” the woman finished.   “I guess I just needed the right motivation, M’am,” the Mystic replied, her tone respectful.   “I see…” the Human woman nodded slightly, her attention still on helpless gnoll. “Well I guess that just one thing to do.” She held her sword up before her and said in an icy voice, “Get ‘im, boys!”   The blade’s shimmering glow became a steady pliable light and cloudy mist poured to the ground from its center. The large cloud split and molded and bent with a will of its own until two ghostly wolves stood to either side of sword-wielding woman. As soon as their incorporeal paws touched the solid ground they bounded soundlessly after the hapless gnoll, leaving a trail of mist behind them.   Though the wolves’ appeared less-than-real, the gnoll’s yelps and cries of pain as the two torn into it were very real indeed.   The Mystic, Mirabelle, sighed and shook her head disapprovingly. “Should you be wasting the Gnollslayer’s magic on such a trivial task, Lady Sayer?” She asked. “A good arrow shot could have done the job a lot easier, and much cleaner.”   “But hardly as effective,” the aged woman replied. “The gnolls of today will learn to...‘respect’ the Sayers and the Gnollslayer as their ancestors did before the beginning of the wars and the Rending.”   “Not if you leave none alive to tell the tale,” Maribelle countered.   “The beasts always have one of their whelps watching, you can be sure of that,” Lady Sayer muttered in response and directed her attention back the latest kill. She held the sword up again and cried with a commanding voice, “Marton! Joseph! Return!”   At her call, both of the spirit animals left the fresh remains of their prey and leapt back to her side. Their transparent bodies faded away completely into the mist they came from and the cloud was sucked back into the glowing blade’s center.   “Need I remind you, Mirabelle,” Lady Sayer said as she lowered the magic sword. “That I hired you to be the healer of my camp, and not as my personal advisor?”   The Kerra bowed her head in acknowledgement, “No, Ma’m.”   “And speaking of your work, there is still a dead guard lying in my camp!”   “I attempted to guide the man’s spirit back to his body, Ma’m,” Mirabelle explained, trying to keep the growl in her voice low. “But he has decided not to return from the Grey. For all I know Ma’m, his god has already whisked him away.”   “A lot of good that does me,” the surely woman muttered and shifted her focused on the two Vah Shir as they now stood up. Until now, they had been all-but-forgotten. “You there,” she said, pointing the tip of the sword at Silverclaw’s chest. “This your work?”   The fighter was still recovering from his earlier weakness and had a hard time comprehending what little he heard. “Huh?” he grunted, his face askew with puzzlement.   Lady Sayer misread his expression and she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Why couldn’t have the gods agreed for all races to speak Common?” she grumbled. “Did—you—kill—big—doggies?” she said slowly, accenting each word with exaggerated movements.   Silverclaw balked at that response and snapped, “I understand Common just fine!” The tone was more harsh then he intended, perhaps the gnoll’s spell had left him irritable, so he quickly added, “I just didn’t hear you clearly the first time. And yes, I ‘kill—big—doggies.’”   “Hmm…not bad,” Lady Sayer surmised, looking at the large warrior’s count.  If she had heard the sacasm in his answer, she wasn't showing any sighn.  She smiled briefly and sheathed her sword with practiced ease and said, “Not bad at all. Thank you…uh…”   “Silverclaw Viswords the Third, at your service,” he finished for her, and bowed slightly at the waste. “And this is my beloved companion, Esterah,” he continued, motioning to the Jharin.   “Also at your service,” Esterah added, bowing as well.   “Mirabelle. Your service is welcomed.” the Kerra plesantly replied, mirroring the bow.   “Mirabelle…” Lady Sayer threatened softly.   “Just an old Kerra greeting, Ma’m,” the Mystic assured. She pulled the hood of her cloak back and smiled knowingly. “A ‘very’ old greeting, indeed.”   With her hood pulled back, Silverclaw and Esterah could see that this Kerra was as old as her Human employer. Possibly even older. Gray hairs bordered on the edges of her chin, cheeks and ears. Otherwise the coat was glossy black. Every so often, when the sun would strike a part of her fur just right, even darker jaguar spots would reveal themselves. Four amethyst gems in gold, pin settings were aligned in a four pointed star across the Mystic’s brow and forehead. Even now, in her later years, the sparkle in Mirabelle’s yellow eyes outshone those in the gems.   The camp leader seemed to accept the explanation and went along with the exchange of introductions as to even bow in turn, though just slightly. “Marlea Sayer, and yes, your services were appreciated. Now that they have been rendered, I will let you two be on your way.”   She turned to leave when Silver called “Wait! We…” The woman turned back on him with a fierce scowl that cut him off before he could explain any further.   “If you’re looking for a reward, I’m afraid you’ve saved the wrong camp! Now please, be on your way.”   “You misunderstand,” Esterah said, talking quickly before she, too, could be interrupted by the impulsive Human. “If this is the Sayer camp, than our way is here. Dockmaster Wilson told us that you needed help protecting your camp.”   Marlea took a moment to absorb those words, than she asked, “Ol’ Willy sent the two of you?”   “He hates being called that,” Silverclaw reminded her. He thought a family friend would know better.   A wide grin cracked Marlea Sayer’s stone face. “So he does,” she agreed. “So he does. I guess that means you really met him.”   Both Vah Shir nodded in unison. “Well, Dockmaster or no Dockmaster, I’m going to tell you what I expect of you two, and then you can decide if you want to stay.” The woman was all business again, and paced in front of her new hands like a commander before new recruits. “I want you both to understand that my husband died trying to reclaim this homestead, and that I don’t intend to let his sacrifice be in vain. His family is my family; his dream is my dream; it’s as simple as that. And no flea-bitten, mangy mongrel is going to stop us from accomplishing it!   “I ask much, and give little in return, since much of the resources are have already been expended for this expedition. When you’re not fighting, you’re rebuilding the cabin. When you’re not doing either, than you had best not be awake or alive. You’re payment will be your meals, a relatively safe place to sleep , and whatever baubles you find off the carcasses of the gnolls you slay.”   The five-and-a-half foot woman marched up close to Silverclaw and looked up his over-six-feet frame like she stood ten feet tall. “Do I make myself clear?” she asked him, her tone daring him to try to compromise.   “I came here to help in whatever way I could,” he replied with a small nod. “We understand, and it’ll be our pleasure to help you rebuild your home.”   “More Kerra formalities?” she asked, turning her head to Mirabelle.   “No, Ma’m,” the Kerra Mystic said, smiling and shaking her head. “That’s just him. Admirable character, wouldn’t you agree?”   Marlea didn’t say anything. She just tromped back to the camp, muttering beneath her breath about stubborn gods, complicated rituals, and simple greetings. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

(Chapter 7, Cont.)   Once the warrior woman was a safe distance away, Mirabelle sighed and shook her head sadly. “You mustn’t take anything she says or does personally,” she explained to the pair in her native language. “A constant storm cloud, that one is, no doubt about that. I’m guessing a good mixture of old age and one hardship after another would do that to anyone, but she’s a good leader and can hold her own with the Gnoll Slayer in hand. No doubting that either.”   “I’m just glad she didn’t turn us away,” Esterah replied.   “Turn you away?” the panther woman echoed. “<i>Ha!</i> Not likely. Right now, we’re in need of all the help we can get. Sure, she won’t go and ask you outright, but for all her show and bluster she was practically begging you for her help.”   “Not any kind of begging I’ve ever seen,” Silverclaw remarked.   “It’s just her way of weeding out the reluctant and half-hearted,” Mirabelle assured him. “She knows very well of the danger out here, and won’t take anyone unless they know full well what they’re getting into.”   “Well, both of us know knew the risks when we came here,” Silverclaw assured her in turn, looking briefly to Esterah who immediately nodded in agreement. “And with a capable Dar Khura such as yourself to aide us, I’m certain we’ll be fine.”   “Yes…Dar Khura…” Mirabelle said and smiled dreamily. “Now there’s a title I haven’t heard in a long, long time. You two are full-blooded Vah Shir, aren’t you?” She smiled at their expression. “Don’t look so surprised. Maybe to the furless you appear to be just two very large Kerra, but I can tell the differences when I first laid eyes on you. Not very many Kerra are comfortable in a metal suit, like you, good Khala Dun, and their bards play wooden and leather drums, unlike that finely crafted harp, Lady Jharin. Then when I heard you speak the old offering of service, I knew you two had once lived in Shar Vahl. Tell me, has Luclin’s veil been finally lifted?”   Silverclaw sadly shook his head. “The way we came, I’m afraid there’s no way back,” he told her.   “I see…” the Mystic said and leaned on her spear. “That’s too bad. Either way, if there is anything I can do for either of you, don’t hesitate to ask.”   “Actually,” Esterah said softly and gripped her beloved’s hand tightly. “There is <i>one</i> thing you could do for us? Isn’t there, Silver?”   “Oh?” Silver asked, puzzled for a moment. Esterah’s eyes fell to their clasped hands. “Oh!” he said again, but this time his brows shot to the top of his head. “Yes…” he coughed trying to clear his throat. He felt the blood rising to the tips of his ears, turning them pink. “There…there is <i>one</i> thing.”   “Really?” Mirabelle asked innocently and pulled her hood back over her head to hid her smile. She urged them to continue, even though by this time she had pretty good guess of what they were trying to ask.   “Esterah and I were wondering…that is…” Silverclaw began and then he froze up again. He sighed heavily and prepared himself for another try.   Esterah, filled to the brim with suspense, never gave him that chance and blurted, “We were wondering if you could bind us together as life-mates?” She then covered her mouth with an apologetic “Eep!”   Silver met her eyes, grinning from ear to ear, and merely said, “Thank you.”   “I would be honored,” the elderly Kerra said and bowed low. Then she abruptly stood up, covered her nose, and gagged. “Just…” she said from behind her paw. “…wash up before the rite.” She then quickly turned back to the camp and gagged once more.   It was only then did Silverclaw realize that his greaves were covered in vomit and gnoll blood. He gagged as well and quickly covered his mouth when he merely imagined the sight and smell that Mirabelle must of seen earlier when she bowed.

[SilverclawII]

<b>Chapter 8 Silverclaw Viswords…the Fourth</b>   The first year was full of many events for the newly wedded couple. Just sixth months after their arrival, the new Sayer home was fully erected, just in time for the winter seasons to begin. Three months after the last shingle was placed on the roof, Esterah gave birth to a single cub.   It was a male, with orange and black striped fur that was very much like his father’s. They even shared the odd, horizontal stripes that formed a cross between their eyes. But when the cub’s eyes opened, they saw that they belonged to his mother. As green and bright as a summer leaf held up to the sun.   Holding his newborn son, Silverclaw felt the hope in him grow to radiant flame. It seemed like there was nothing that could darken his days on Norrath. He named the cub, Silverclaw the Fourth, more in honor and memory of his grandfather than himself, but to him, the boy would always be known as his Little Silver. <hr />  After news of the Sayers’ success reached the city, the gates seemed to explode with travelers, adventures, and caravans overnight. The Qeynos leaders sent a permanent guard to watch over the home, and it wasn’t long before a supply train made frequent trips between the Qeynos proper and Sayer Cabin.   Seeing there were places where he was needed more, Silverclaw left with as many that would take him. Esterah and their infant son would join him when possible, especially if there were other families present in the main camp. But there were places where the cub could not go, and many times Silver went without them.   It was hard on both their hearts, but Esterah understood Silverclaw’s pressing desire to aid these pioneers, and there were things that a female could do for her cub that the male just could not.   It was during these times that Silverclaw fought the hardest. For he knew the sooner that the land could be deemed safe, the sooner that the farmers and the craftsman and their families would join the guards in the settlement, and he knew that his own family would not be far behind them.   Four years passed away. With the world’s surface finally still, the inhabitants of Antonica began raising structures in place of those swallowed by earth during the Rending. And with each success, Silverclaw shared in the renewed hope, the joy, and elation after the first family moved their belongings into their new home.   It appeared that the spirits shared the good feelings as well as the bad. To be continued...

[SilverclawII]

<p>  (Chapter 8, Cont.)</p><p>  It was the perfect night at the Sayers’ Cabin. There wasn’t a cloud in the dark blue sky to hide the many twinkling stars. Only the small breeze blowing threw the branches of the nearby old oak could be heard outside. It cooled the warm summer night to just that right temperature where you could just sleep right on top of the bed without stuffy and itchy blankets.   It was a perfectly, peaceful night…so why couldn’t he sleep?   It was past midnight now, and Silverclaw had been awake ever since he put his head against the pillow. He had a horrible feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure if it was disturbed spirits, or his own, and then he wondered if that really mattered. He learned that not all suffering spirits were necessarily rational ones, ones like the ghost he and others saw wandering the near the newly built Windstalker Village.   Tired and frustrated, he got out of bed, taking the greatest of care not to wake Esterah and Lil’ Silver. No need for all three of them to have a sleepless night.   He went down the stairs to the living room, and was surprised, and pleased, to see Mirabelle sitting wide awake and looking his way. The orange glow of the dying coals in the fireplace reflected on the dark liquid contents of two tea cups that sat on a wooden stool nearby. Across from the Kerra Mystic was an empty chair.   “I was wondering when you’d give up and come down, Silverclaw,” Mirabelle said with a smile and motioned to the prepared seat. “You can feel them as well, can’t you?”   “Somewhat,” he answered as he sat down. “When the Rending was happening I could actually hear voices calling out to me. After that…it’s become a bit more vague. Have they told you anything?”   “No, I’ve heard nothing clearly, but it scares me something awful.”   “Something bad is going to happen,” Silver said ominously.   “I agree,” the Mystic replied and picked up her cup and took a few sips of her warm milk   “What can we do about it?”   “Nothing, I’m afraid. It feels like its far away, so it may be nothing for us to worry about...Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Mirabelle admonished. “You can’t save everyone, Silver, no matter how hard you try. There are some things that are just out mortal hands, or paws, whichever you prefer.”   The Vah Shir still didn’t look satisfied; in fact, he looked even more restless than before!   “But you did make a difference in many lives. Who knows? Maybe even my own,” the old Kerra continued, pausing only to take another sip of her drink. “You must learn to give way and accept that not all that is asked for can be given. If you insist on standing your ground, than the spirits will overwhelm your own like a herd of stampeding cattle, and with just as devastating effects.”   There was a moment of silence as Mirabelle let the words sink in. “Now,” she said, lifting up the other cup to the Vah Shir. “Drink up. It’ll help you sleep.”   Silverclaw took the cup in both hands. It was brown, translucent and had several herb leaves floating on the top. He brought it to his nose and experimentally sniffed. A very strong, bittersweet, aroma wafted through his nostrils, and he turned his head and coughed. “What is this?” he demanded, and coughed once more.   “An old family recipe,” Mirabelle said with a grin. “A sedative of sorts that will dull the sense that enables you to feel the spirits about you. The catnip and honey is of my own invention. Makes it really syrupy, but it also taste <i>much</i> better than what my mother gave me when I was a girl.   “Then why don’t you take it?” the young male asked, nodding to her cup.   “Now, now, Silver,” the Mystic said with a knowing smile. She had asked her mother the same thing. “You wouldn’t want me to deprive myself of my only means of defense and healing ability, now would you? Now, be a good boy, and drink your medicine.”   The Khala Dun sighed and brought the cup back up. The liquid had barely touched his lips when he heard a small voice behind him say, “Papa?”   Silverclaw turned around to see Lil’ Silver leaning against the railing of the lowest step, one hand holding the corner of his Papa’s pillow. The cub wasn’t rubbing his eyes like he had just gotten out of bed, but stood there looking at his father with those large, green, eyes.   “Now what are you doing out of bed, Lil’ Silver?” he asked, putting his cup back on the wooden stool. He got out his chair and went down on both knees before his boy.   “Can’t sleep,” the toddler yawned and hobbled the few steps to his father’s arms like he was going to collapse on the floor any moment. He dropped the pillow, wrapped both tiny arms about his father’s big neck and squeezed him tightly.   Silverclaw recognized the need for comfort in that squeeze. He picked his son up in a cradle, patted his back assuredly, and asked softly, “Why didn’t you tell, Momma?”   The little Vah Shir tried to close his eyes, and whispered, “She told me to ask you for help and went back to sleep.”   Silverclaw grinned and began to chortle, but that stopped once he felt his son dig deeper into his embrace and whimper, “I’m scared, Papa?”   “Did you have a bad dream?” he asked softly and started patting and rubbing the frightened cub’s back, again.   He felt the shake of the head against his shoulder and a mumbled, “No.”   “Are you scared that the big dogs will come and take you?”   “No,” Lil’ Silver answered again, but it was so soft this time that his father had to stand him back up on the ground and ask him again.   “Did you see or hear—Look at me, son!—Did you see or hear anything scary?” Silverclaw asked, concerned there might be real danger.   The four-year-old’s nose wrinkled, his eyes began to water, and he started crying. “I don’t know!” he wailed, though not too loudly, afraid that would only get him into bigger trouble. “I’m just scared, Papa! I don’t mean to be, but I am!”   If there was one thing Silverclaw hadn’t wanted to do, it was make his son cry. He gripped his son by the shoulders and made soft shushing sounds. “Hey, hey,” he said until he had his son’s attention again. “You’re not in trouble, okay? You’re <i>not!</i> I just wanted know what scared my Little Silver. I love you, okay?”   “Okay, Papa,” Lil’ Silver echoed, drying one eye.   “So,” the larger Vah Shir sighed. “You’re just scared?”   A little nod.   Silverclaw pursed his lips for a moment and hesitantly asked, “Do you feel like something bad is going to happen if you close your eyes?”   “Uh-huh…” the cub replied and nodded a second time.   That reply filled Silverclaw with dread. His son could feel the spirits as well! Being afraid, and not knowing why, must of confused the young child greatly. It was a wonder he didn’t burst out into tears earlier.   For all the dread he felt, he put on his bravest face for his son and said very softly, “I see...That’s why Papa’s awake, too.”   “Papas get scared, too?” Lil’ Silver asked innocently, drying his other eye.   His father felt his own eyes watering up and nodded ever so slightly. “Papas get scared, too,” he echoed and added, “But I have something that will make the scared feelings go away.”   The father stood and extended his large furry hand.   The son picked the pillow back up in one hand and let his father lead him across the room to the chairs next to the fireplace; to Miss Mirabelle, who made owies better; to the cup filled with the funny tasting water that would make the scared feelings go away.</p><p>((And so my main is born in the world of EverQuest2.  A short chapter, but I enjoyed it.  Dying to know what folks think about it, so do let me know if you've read it.  Happy reading everyone!))</p>

[Amethest]

I really enjoyed your story silver <img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> you kept me interested and intrigued and had to read the whole thing <img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> thanks for passing some time with a good story...

[SilverclawII]

<p><img src="/smilies/283a16da79f3aa23fe1025c96295f04f.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /></p><p>Thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed it.  This is the kind of feedback I look forward to hearing from the readers.  (Heh, what writer doesn't?)  I'm getting to a key part in the story, and hoping that I don't disappoint.</p><p>Again, thanks for the feedback.</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p><b>Chapter 9 Shattered</b>   “Are you sure that was wise?” Mirabelle asked Silverclaw when he returned from upstairs. The little one had fallen asleep in his father’s arms before they reached the stairwell. “I don’t have additional ingredients to make you another dose.”   “He needed it more than me,” Silverclaw replied, looking back to the stairs. “He shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of confusion at that age.”   “And what about you?” the Mystic asked.   “I’ll be alright,” he answered with confident smile. “Compared to what I first experienced during the Rending, this night’s going to be peaceful.”   “Where are you going?” Mirabelle demanded.   The Vah Shir stopped inside the arc of the doorway. “To get some fresh air,” he said over his shoulder. “If I can’t get to sleep, I’m not going to spend it being bored in here.”   “Don’t go too far, Silverclaw,” she called, stopping him a second time. “You may know how to fight your battles with blade and shield, but when it comes to spiritual struggles, you may as well as pull out your claws and teeth.”   “I won’t go past the boughs of the oak tree outside,” he promised and waved with one hand without looking back.   “That, young one,” the old Kerra said softly. “May still be too far. May the spirits protect you.” To be continued...</p><p>((I think you all can guess what's coming up next.  <img src="/smilies/8a80c6485cd926be453217d59a84a888.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />  I need to do a little research on the next scene, but I hope you all enjoy this little teaser.))</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p>((Yay! I've finally been able to write this section of the Chapter. My apologies to any of those lurking and waiting for this. I had been thinking about this scene in the back of my mind since I started writing the story, and when I finally got to it, I couldn't get all my thoughts onto the screen and ended up with a very large writer's block. Took a month break away from it and a good case of boredom to get me seated back at my computer seat and get writing. Once the wheel's got turning the rest seemed easy. Made me wonder why I was having difficulty in the first place. Happy reading all! And... let me know what you think about it .)) (Chapt 9. Cont.)   As soon as he was out of the sight of the cabin’s doorway, Silverclaw let his calm composure go and stumbled to the oak’s trunk. He braced himself against it with one hand and gripped forehead with the other, trying to keep the mixed emotions in his mind from splitting his skull apart.   “Seven thousand suffering spirits!” he cursed and winced, the emotions were getting stronger. So strong in fact he could feel what direction they were coming from. It was coming from the east, but the cabin’s silhouette blocked his view of the horizon. He had to get to the road.   “I’m sorry, Mirabelle,” he grunted as he stood on his own again. “But this is one promise I’m going to have to break.” He was tired and fatigued from the lack of sleep, and the fight to sort his emotions from the distraught spirits was sapping the remaining strength right out of him, but he had to see what they were trying to tell him. So he began stumbling to the highway, far from the reach of the boughs of the oak tree.   As the shadow of the Sayers’ cabin fell away from his vision he squinted and brought his hand protectively over his brow. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the new glow that lit up the horizon. Just rising over the peaks of the Thundering Steppes was a bright and full moon.   Silverclaw’s brows furrowed as the sense of wrongness struck him. He knew that Dranil, the only moon visible from Norrath since the veil was put over Luclin, was in its “new” phase this night. The phase where its face would be dark and only visible by absence of stars. If this moon wasn’t Dranil, than that could have only meant it was…   His arms fell to his sides and he fell to his knees. “Luclin…” he whispered in awe. It was like seeing his grandfather come back to life. When he and Esterah arrived on Norrath’s surface, he knew, had accepted, the fact that he would never see Shar Vahl again, and had put it behind him. It wasn’t until now did he truly understand how badly he missed the city he was born and raised in.   Luclin became brighter and brighter, its surface appeared to turn transparent like a glass bubble in a blower’s furnace, and still the Vah Shir looked on. He was still daydreaming about walking through Shar Vahl’s bazaar with his son and mate in hand when the first fissure broke the uniformity of Luclin’s surface.   That’s when everything clicked in Silver’s mind, and he understood the distraught feelings of the spirits. Seeing that crack took him back more than four years ago, to a time when he looked from that same moon at Norrath, fearing that the planet would break apart. He was reliving that moment, staring into a similar sky with the same fearful expectation, but this time there was no ocean for the broken land to drift into. Just a dark, starry sky…   “No…” he pleaded softly, barely an audible whisper. He was begging, for someone, anyone!, to stop the fissure from growing any larger. It had to stop; it just HAD to stop!   Sadly, Luclin shattered in a blinding flash that lit the dark side of Norrath like the midday sun. “Nooo!!” one of the last Vah Shir screamed in defiance. Then his cry of loss turned into a roar of agony as he shared in the suffering of thousands of souls perished in only seconds.   The loud scream of unaccomplished dreams, unfinished tasks, unsaid words, and all things that required more time in the world of flesh rang through Silverclaw’s mind for what seemed to be an eternity before unconsciousness mercifully brought it to an end.   In reality, his roars had faded away with the Shattering’s light, and nighttime darkened the land once more. To be continued...</p><p>((P.S. Forgive me if I got the name of the other moon wrong.  I've been away from all EQ2 material for some time.))</p>

[Amethest]

omg omg hurry and post next part have to see what happens and how lil silver survives he has to somehow..hurry lol

[SilverclawII]

<p>Thanks so much for the feedback, I'm really glad you're enjoying it.  You've also added a point that I should probably clarify in the next chapter that I hadn't thought about.  Things are a bit busy on this end, so I don't know when the next installment is going to be, but it's good to know that one more person is interested in finding out what happens next.</p><p>Again, thanks much for the feedback. <img src="/smilies/e8a506dc4ad763aca51bec4ca7dc8560.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> Hearing things like this really makes me want to sit at the keyboard and write more.  My guess is that I'm eager to hear more praises.  <img src="/smilies/49869fe8223507d7223db3451e5321aa.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />  Whatever the reason, it sure does help get the gears turning.</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p>  (Chapt. 9, Cont.)</p><p>  "No! Papa, don't go, Papa!"  Lil' Silver's scream of terror brought his mother wide awake. She pushed herself up off her belly and jerked her head to look at her son.  The cub lay curled close by, his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow and fast asleep.  Esterah released the breath she had been holding in a deeply relieved sigh. She watched her little one's calm face scrunch in some form of displeasure and turn himself, pillow and all, to face the other side.  "Papa..." Lil' Silver mumbled in his sleep and his face was calm again.  "Must be a nightmare about the times when you had to leave us," Esterah said softly, thinking that her mate was lying awake behind her. She stroked her precious boy's cheek and forehead. "Spirits, though, he certainly gave us a scare, didn't he, husband?"  Esterah's smile gradually faded as time passed without sound or movement from the other side of the bed. It disappeared altogether when she turned over and saw that the mattress was empty.  "Silverclaw?" she called to the dark room in a harsh whisper. Even with just the faint glow of the starlit sky filtering through the window, the tigress could tell immediately that she and her son were the room's only occupants.  Maybe it was Lil' Silver's recent cry in the dark that put her nerves on edge; maybe it was the prophetic words he screamed, pleading for his father not to go; and again, maybe it was just base instinct and feeling. Whatever the reason, Silverclaw's absence made Esterah worry for her mate's safety more than she knew she should.  She sat up in the bed and hugged her knees close to her chest. Her shoulder's rose and fell as she sighed deeply, her heart longing for her husband's quick and safe return. She continued to try to reassure herself that his absence didn't mean anything, that Silverclaw would be coming back as he always did, but all her assurances and logics fell short of satisfying the uneasiness that seemed to permeate the very air of the room.  "Oh, Silver," she whispered in another wistful sigh. Her wondering mind drew her gaze to the star lit sky in the open window's frame. "Where are you?"  As if in answer, a blinding flash lit her entire world. Esterah turned away instinctively and brought up a protective arm to cover her tightly clenched eyes. Even though her sight was temporarily disabled, there had been nothing wrong with her hearing, and what she heard shocked her far more than what she had briefly glimpsed.  And when the light finally died away so did the sound...and the silence terrified the Jharin far more than the sound itself.  "No," she said in a strained whisper. "Great spirits, please no!" She launched out of the bed without a worry of waking her son. Had she stopped to think about it, she would have found it strange that Lil' Silver hadn’t made a sound, hadn't even batted an eyelash during the entire event. He just continued to sleep through the night as if nothing had ever happened.  But how could she worry about her son, safe and sound in the cabin, when her life-mate was outside, alone, and very likely wounded...or worse? Half of her body leaned over the edge of the window sill as she strained to see the source of that horribly familiar roar of pain and agony.  Her night vision told her that nothing was amiss, but that did little to comfort the tigress. In fact she had to fight herself to keep from jumping from the second-story window to the ground.  As the shock wore away and reasoning set in, she darted for the door, grabbing her harp and epee from their respecitive resting places along the way.  She had to find Mirabelle quickly. If there had been any time that her family needed the Dar Khura, it was now! Because ever since she knew Silverclaw, she had heard him scream like that only once in his lifetime.  Just once!  And that time, he had nearly died.</p>

[Mourti]

<p>I really enjoyed your story, I love hearing stories that connect old EQ1 to the Norrath of EQ2. I'm pretty new to these forums so if your still out there I hope you see this small bit of praise. And if the bug bites, you still got at least one fan hanging on the last word : )</p>

[Jakimo]

<span style="font-size: x-small;font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;">I just caught up with your story, thoroughly enjoyable.  Thank you very much for sharing.  I remember the first edition of the story, and you have done a good job with the revisions.  You are making a good story even better.  Thank you again.</span>

[SilverclawII]

<p>Well, I'm breaking from the game again, and that means the writing bug has successfully bitten me.  With any hope, I got it bad enough to finish this soon.  Thank you Jakimo, and Mourtica for you kind words.  I was quite surprised to see my story still on the first page of the Traveler Tales forums, so thank you both and another thanks to all my unspoken readers.</p><p>I hope you all enjoy the end of Chapter 9.  I got the reaction I wanted out my family (a big thanks to them for being my continual test subjects), and I hope I get something of the same from here.</p>

[SilverclawII]

<p>  (Chapt 9, Cont.)</p><p align="left">  "No! Papa, don't go, Papa!"  Lil' Silver's scream of terror brought his mother wide awake. She pushed herself up off her belly and jerked her head to look at her son.  The cub lay curled close by, his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow and fast asleep.  Esterah released the breath she had been holding in a deeply relieved sigh. She watched her little one's calm face scrunch in some form of displeasure and turn himself, pillow and all, to face the other side.  "Papa..." Lil' Silver mumbled in his sleep and his face was calm again.  "Must be a nightmare about the times when you had to leave us," Esterah said softly, thinking that her mate was lying awake behind her. She stroked her precious boy's cheek and forehead. "Spirits, though, he certainly gave us a scare, didn't he, husband?"  Esterah's smile gradually faded as time passed without sound or movement from the other side of the bed. It disappeared altogether when she turned over and saw that the mattress was empty.  "Silverclaw?" she called to the dark room in a harsh whisper. Even with just the faint glow of the starlit sky filtering through the window, the tigress could tell immediately that she and her son were the room's only occupants.  Maybe it was Lil' Silver's recent cry in the dark that put her nerves on edge; maybe it was the prophetic words he screamed, pleading for his father not to go; and again, maybe it was just base instinct and feeling. Whatever the reason, Silverclaw's absence made Esterah worry for her mate's safety more than she knew she should.  She sat up in the bed and hugged her knees close to her chest. Her shoulder's rose and fell as she sighed deeply, her heart longing for her husband's quick and safe return. She continued to try to reassure herself that his absence didn't mean anything, that Silverclaw would be coming back as he always did, but all her assurances and logics fell short of satisfying the uneasiness that seemed to permeate the very air of the room.  "Oh, Silver," she whispered in another wistful sigh. Her wondering mind drew her gaze to the star lit sky in the open window's frame. "Where are you?"  As if in answer, a blinding flash lit her entire world. Esterah turned away instinctively and brought up a protective arm to cover her tightly clenched eyes. Even though her sight was temporarily disabled, there had been nothing wrong with her hearing, and what she heard shocked her far more than what she had briefly glimpsed.  And when the light finally died away so did the sound...and the silence terrified the Jharin far more than the sound itself.  "No," she said in a strained whisper. "Great spirits, please, no!" She launched out of the bed without a worry of waking her son. Had she stopped to think about it, she would have found it strange that Lil' Silver hadn’t made a sound, hadn't even batted an eyelash during the entire event. He just continued to sleep through the night as if nothing had ever happened.  But how could she worry about her son, safe and sound in the cabin, when her life-mate was outside, alone, and very likely wounded...or worse? Half of her body leaned over the edge of the window sill as she strained to see the source of that horribly familiar roar of pain and agony.  Her night vision told her that nothing was amiss, but that did little to comfort the tigress. In fact she had to fight herself to keep from jumping from the second-story window to the ground.  As the shock wore away and reasoning set in, she darted for the door, grabbing her harp and epee from their respecitive resting places along the way.  She had to find Mirabelle quickly. If there was anytime that her family needed the healer, it was now! In all the time she knew the Khala Dun, she had heard him scream like that only once. Only once!  And that time, he had nearly died.*  *  *  Esterah jumped the last flight of stairs going down. In the main room of the floor she found Mirabelle wide awake and already rising from her seat. With barely a pause, she told the Mystic to follow her and quickly ran outside.  “Silver!” she cried, her head darting left and right. She called her husband’s name several times more, but the voice she longed to hear never replied.  She was close to the spot when she’d heard her mate roar that agonizing roar, she could feel it. She lifted her hands to her lips to shout his name again, but her voice was stopped short when she saw the shattered moon in the night sky.  For a moment she forgot why she was outside and stared at the spectacle in the hanging in the sky among the stars.  Three of the moon’s largest pieces clung to each other in a remnant of the moon’s original spherical shape. The red glow of the core’s warmth could still be seen in the great fissures that kept the pieces from rejoining. A glowing ring made of the planet’s dust and smallest debris spread out from the sides while heavier fragments of all sizes lit the sky beneath in a shower of falling stars and meteors.  The sight filled Esterah with awe and dread at the same time, but only for a moment. She closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously to renew her focus. She had to find the her lost mate, even under an exploding moon. When she opened them again, her focus fell upon a figure lying in the road.  Fearing the worse, she sprinted to the figure’s side. It was certainly a Vah Shir or Kerra male, one with tiger stripes, and he was Silverclaw’s size. Yet, at a glance Esterah knew this couldn’t be her beloved husband. For this stranger’s fur was whiter than her own.   And still, despite this fur color that contrasted her mate’s deep orange, she found herself kneeling at the head of this unconscious stranger for a closer look. Was it because her conscious couldn’t let her leave some in obvious need of help, or was it something else?  There were other peculiarities about him that she was beginning to notice. The first thing was that this stranger had no possessions on him except a pair of cotton britches that he wore…one’s very similar to the pair that Silver wore in the morning as he prepared for the day.  And his back, she knew she had seen it before.  To the furless races, it was difficult to tell the difference between two Kerra that shared the same fur pattern and color. However, each Kerra and Vah Shir had a coat with subtle differences that made them as unique as individual snowflakes. Coupled with their keen noses to detect familiar scents, a Kerra had little trouble finding a family member in a crowd of strangers.  For Esterah, who had memorized the stripes of her husband’s back, she knew that this pattern belonged to Silverclaw. She checked and double-checked, but the patterned matched her mate’s to the smallest measure.  Everything told her that this was the Silverclaw she had been looking for. Everthing that is, except for the glowing, white fur. She racked her brain for such possibility, but nothing came to her.  Esterah knew that her mind wouldn’t be at ease until she could clear her doubts about this mysterious Kerra’s identity. There was a mark that could do that, prove this was her husband, white fur or no.  She took the limp figure by the shoulders and flipped him right-side up. She turned the head straight up, where she could see the features clearly, and gasped in shock before clapping a hand over her mouth.  There they were…the vertical stripes above each brow that struck against the pattern. The cross-shaped stripe belonged only to two living Vah Shir. One was her son. The other, his father.  “Silver?” she said and looked over him quickly. She felt his head and chest for a concussion or broken bones, but there wasn’t one. There were no open wounds, no blood on the ground, just the eerie white fur.  His face looked peaceful, like he was only sleeping. She called his name again and shook him gently.  It was so easy for her to see it now, him blinking his eyes open and grinning that sheepish grin of his. He would apologize for making her worry, she would scold him for doing so, and everything would be alright again.  But he wouldn’t wake up.  “Silver,” she said in a louder voice. “Wake up, Silver. Please, wake up!”* * *  He could hear something.  Something, no, someone was a calling his name. Telling him to wake up. But the voiced seemed so very far away, and he was so tired.  So very, very, tired…* * *  “Silver!” Esterah cried in earnest and shook his shoulders hard enough to wake anyone from the deepest slumber. “You can’t leave us, Silver! Silverclaw!”* * *  Silverclaw could hear the voice more clearly now. It belonged to someone he knew, someone that was very close to him. He opened his eyes and blinked away the bright light. When his vision finally adjusted to the lighting he saw…  “Papa?” he asked, looking at the face of his deceased grandfather.  “Time to get up, Lil’Silver,” the old Vah Shir replied.  Silverclaw the Third pushed himself up and looked around at the unfamiliar gray expanse. “Where am I?”* * *  Esterah bent down and touched her forehead against Silverclaw’s and sobbed. He had not made a sound, not a movement, despite her efforts. This was a sleep she knew she couldn’t wake him from.  “Silverclaw!!”</p>

[niko_teen]

<p>Blah I have to start over because i cannot remember anymore. </p><p><Kicks silver in the shins></p><p> There...</p><p> Now that my Nikoness is sedated I can sit down and read.</p>