Cataclysm of Orr - The Lost Volumes

Guild Wars - The Orrian Cataclysm
The Lost Volumes
Copyright 2006 by David X.

Foreward

This is a story I've decided to work on steadily. I might write a new chapter once a day or once a week whatever suites me. It's the story of the now destroyed kingdom of Orr which, if any of you have read the manual, know about its sad fate. This story details the events leading up to it. Enjoy :P

Prologue

Lucius the Sage woke up to a cold sweat. He had dreamed of a doom so foreboding that his body shook and his mind was dazed. This was no ordinary dream he knew for he was a man of great power. The King’s sage in fact, he served in the royal court of Orr as an oracle. One would could read the winds, read the stars and foretell the fortunes of an empire. But now he felt grim, like impending doom was upon him.
Standing up from his large wooden bed made of fine oak, he approached the window and looked out the window at the great marble streets of Arah. Fine were they and he knew that the kingdom of Orr was unlike any other in the land. For the city of Arah was once inhabited by the long departed gods of Melandru, Dwayna and Balthazar during ancient times. The buildings left behind by the gods were looked after by generations of skilled craftsmen. Some of the finest craftsmen in Tyria.
Using a small amount of his ethereal skills, he summoned some pure water into a goblet by his side and drenched his parched throat and sighed. The beauty of the land was foreshadowed by the Guildwars which had raged for decades and the bloodshed seemed to have no end. Within the inner city of Arah it seemed peaceful for that was where the noble lived. However on the outer rim, it felt like a civil war. Each day there would be dozens of reported conflicts between different households regularly leading to deaths. The Orrian guards had little sway over the outer rim of Arah.
The kingdoms of Ascalon and Kryta weren’t doing very well either. The none-stop bloodshed of the guilds was even more prominent there as it was in Orr.
Lucius sighed heavily, his age and weariness beginning to catch up with him. His white thin hair had an air of sickness to it and his features were ancient.
There was a knocking on his chamber doors which startled him out of his reverie.

“Lucius! The King asks for your presence,” came the deep booming voice of Malgus the necromancer from the far west.

Malgus had a permanent expression of anger on his sharp face and white pupils in his eyes. His skin was deathly white and his back crooked despite his tall stature. He wore a long black robe and Lucius didn’t trust him. The long years of studying the art of necromancy had deformed Malgus to become something of a mix between the living and the dead. Even Malgus’ skin was cold to the touch like a corpse during winter. But it was his soul that Lucius was concerned about for he saw nothing but darkness there. However the King had need of this sickly creature and otherwise Lucius would have pardoned him from service long ago.

“And I see you have become nothing more than a messenger,” Lucius replied.

“It is an emergency council he seeks from all his advisors. Do not think he has some special need of you,” Malgus replied coldly.

The King’s chamber was a magnificent giant hall of marble and adorned with golden ornaments. King Dorian had been the successor to many generations of his blood line and was generally loved by the people. He was a fair man but a courageous man. However many decades with the Guildwars had made him weary and tired.
Before him now were all his twelve advisors standing in front of him with their heads bowed including Lucius and Malgus. Several servants and high officials also crowded into the hall to see what the fuss was about. On the thrown Dorian looked quite concerned, his face a pale white. Beside him on a small chair sat a young man, no older than eighteen and full of cuts and bruises, his clothes tattered and his black hair ruffled. Two monks stood on either side of this young man with their hands on his shoulders meditating to keep him breathing properly. The young man looked close to exhaustion.

“Charr…,” Dorian’s voice boomed across the hall to shushed whispers. “They have broken through the Great Wall.”

There was a long silence throughout the hall before Lucius spoke.

“You mean the Charr have invaded Ascalon?”

“Worse,” Dorian said, his voice slightly shaky. “They have sacked the city and all outlying outposts. They come in great numbers and we believe they are heading this way.”

Stunned mutters erupted before the King urged for silence. Then the young man beside the King spoke with a gasping breath.

“My name is Aiden. I bring news from Ascalon,” he coughed. “I have travelled for days without sleep or rest with a band of Charr on my tail. I am lucky to be alive. The news I bring you is dire and is straight from King Adelbern.”

“Aiden, how many Charr penetrated the Wall?” asked senior advisor Pollock.

“Hundreds… of thousands… maybe millions,” he muttered. “My father…,” he began to shake. “My father died defending the homeland… King Adelbern bids you to prepare your defenses and to spare no man who can fight.”

“The Charr cannot penetrate the walls of Arah. No standing army ever has!” Malgus spoke arrogantly. “I have foreseen this! In my dreams I saw all the Charr who set foot near Arah become obliterated off the face of Tyria!”

“And I have seen the destruction of Arah!” Lucius spoke before he could think about what was coming out of his mouth. “In a dream I had a foresight. Of great and total destruction of our homeland.”

“None sense! For I have also had a foresight of the destruction of the Charr!”

There were mutters around the hall before Dorian stood up from his throne to speak.

“Nevertheless, if either of you is true, we still must defend and hope for victory against this threat. Now we must convene the Council of War!”

Wow...good writing man...made a nice morning read. Keep it up, and I hope others comment on this too...

Excellent, excellent! god I love this place.

Very nice indeed. Well done.

Here's chapter One. So far I'm planning to finish this saga in about 16 chapters and tie it directly into the start of the adventures of those established by the official folklore.

One

Most of Aiden’s wounds had healed throughout the night thanks to the help of the healers nearby who had channelled their skills none stop. Looking outside his tower he could see the large beautiful city of Arah, the City of the Gods. He had only been to Arah once and that was when he was very little. His father had taken him here for his father had wanted for him to see the entire world. His mother had died when he was still a baby and so his father had decided to teach him to be self reliant.

“There’s nobody else you can trust completely and count on except for yourself in this world. And I damn sure are going to make sure that you have all the skills you need to fend for yourself once you’re gone,” his father had told him wearily.

“Where are you going?” the bright eyed young boy had asked.

“All people die. It’s part of nature. Dwayna takes the seed of man into the world and reclaims it once they have had their share.”

And so the lesson had begun in earnest. Aiden had learnt the way of the bow, the sound of the trees, the whispers of the winds and the heart beat of the earth. This troubled him as he gazed upon the young child Cynn whom he had rescued from the fires of the Ascalonian settlements. He found Cynn alone and starving in a house which seemed to have been obliterated by some sort of powerful force. Cynn never spoke about the events before he found her.

“You were watching me sleep?” asked Aiden.

“I wanted to be sure you were ok,” she replied.

Aiden felt weary. He was a young man but he felt old beyond age.

“What do you think will happen to us?” she asked once he had gotten dressed and had something to eat.

“I intend to stay. To defend this place against the Charr. My father loved this city, said that it contained many of the treasures of this world. Just look at the buildings around here,” he pointed to some houses outside. “The finest marble in Tyria. Hand crafted by the gods themselves.”

At that moment an old man entered the room. He wore the brightest white robes Aiden had ever laid eyes upon.

“My name is Lucius,” the man’s voice was troubled. “I have come to gaze upon your thoughts.”

“My thoughts?” asked Aiden.

“You have seen the fall of Ascalon through your own eyes. I wish to see what you have seen.”

Before Aiden could move a muscle Lucius placed his hand upon Aiden’s brow and began chanting. As soon as this occurred Aiden felt his entire body freeze as though paralysed. Then images began to fill his head. The sieges upon the wall, his father fighting alongside him along thousands of guardsmen, the explosion which rocked the world, women and children being slain by foul beasts everywhere. A tear fell out of his left eye.
Lucius moaned and withdrew.

“The armies… they are the largest ever assembled in this world… they will crush Arah like hailstorm upon crops,” the old man said as though foretelling a prophecy.

“But there is still hope right?” Cynn muttered.

“I see a very dark time. Many Orrians will die. But there is hope however… but not for us. I see hope within you young Aiden. I see strength and honour within you. And I sense a great power within Cynn. She will must be taught the ways of the Elementalists,” Lucius eyes became deathly white as though he were in a trance. “For she holds great power… power that will become vital to the salvation of this world!”

Aiden and Cynn both looked at each other befuddled.

“What must I do?” Aiden asked the sage.

“You must travel…” Lucius muttered under his bizarre trance. “Take the girl to the Dark Elemental Tower.”

“You wish for me to seek out the Dark Elementalists for help against the Charr? But they have had no relations with the rest of the world for centuries! And few have ever found the Tower before. In fact nobody even knows where it is!”

“Past the Fetid Plains… you will find the Dead Forest. Centuries ago the Dark Elementalists fought a terrifying war there against the lizard men. Although outnumbered fifty to one, their power was both terrifying and forbidden. The lizard men were destroyed, their race extinct and so the Dark Elementalists were banished from the face of Tyria by all things living. And for centuries they dwell within their Tower that reaches beyond the clouds. Go to the far to the west. You will find them.”

Aiden was finding it hard to take all this in.

“What part does Cynn have to play in all this?” asked Aiden.

“She is the key to defeating the Charr…” and with that last word Lucius fell out of his trance. At first he was confused and for a while was unsure of himself. He looked around the room and wondered where he was. “I’ve been feeling odd lately, I really must go see the monks.”

And with that he left the room.
Without further ado Aiden began packing and making preparations. Since he was a ranger, he travelled light and within a few minutes he had brought all his rations, weapons and some tools to use and was at the stables. He picked the best horse he could find which met with complaint from the stable boy however he was able to obtain a royal decree from King Dorian himself as a royal scout and so took a horse which was both tall, lean and dark. By nightfall he was out of the city gates with Cynn sitting behind him.
And so Aiden’s long journey had begun. He was an impulsive man and acted quickly without time to pause. The humans were at war with the Charr, his father had been slain and all he had left was his mighty bow and a young girl he had saved. If by finding the Dark Elementalists he could defeat the Charr then he was going to give it his best shot.
Aiden looked back at the glowing lights and the mighty city behind him and sighed.

“I hope this place still exists once I come back,” he muttered and rode out into the night.

Meanwhile many leagues away the Charr were but five days march to the capitol of Orr. Ascalon was a smouldering ruin scorched by fire and ash. And deep within the unknown, a dark and hidden foe was yet to show its face.
The Guildwars had officially ended. The war to save mankind had begun.

awesome plz write more soon im looking forward to it =D

This is chapter two and I finally feel that the story is picking up momentum. The previous two chapters I had to spend lots of time establishing stuff so in this one I really had lots of free time to write about action and begin with the plot. To tell the truth I'm making the story up as I write it so I don't really know where it's heading but I'm certain it'll shape itself.

Two

It was nightfall. Aiden had ridden hard all day and his horse which he named Chestnut, had warned him that he would throw him off his back and break his spine if they rode any longer. Aiden then offered to walk and only have the horse carry Cynn to which the horse agreed. When Aiden asked Chestnut why he would rather carry Cynn than himself, the horse replied by farting. Horses had a bizarre sense of humour.

“Aiden, how did you learn to talk with animals?” Cynn asked as they had set up camp in a clearing.

“My father taught me to trust me instincts. He taught me that nature communicates with us via our instincts,” he said as he roasted a rabbit on the open fire.

“What do you mean?” she asked inquisitively.

“Take the sky for instance,” he pointed. “When the clouds are sad they will turn dark. When they feel great sorrow they will even cry. Listen to the whispers on the wind, they will tell you about the texture of the trees, the richness of the grass.”

“And what about animals?”

“Once you trust them and they trust you, you will understand how they feel. Over time this feeling leads to a form of communication. You see animals, unlike humans, don’t require speech to talk. They talk with their instincts, with their feelings.”

Just then a gust of wind blew past the campfire.

“Listen,” Aiden said and they both hushed. “I hear the sound of danger nearby.”

“I feel…” she said as she listened. “I feel the power of the air. Like a thread so fine and so small that it becomes hard to control with the bare hand. I feel almost like I can grab the thread and almost control it.”

“That is quite different to my experiences. However there is danger nearby. You should stay here, I will scout out.”

He told Chestnut not to break any more wind and headed off into some dense trees. Chestnut huffed a laugh and decided that this man had quite a good sense of humour for a human and therefore must be pretty intelligent.”
Aiden swept through the foliage like a gust of wind leaving no sign of his passing until he saw another camp nearby. A small group of Charr were assembled around a camp fire eating meat from a fire. Several humans were nearby locked inside cages with sad looks on their faces.

“Charr scouting party...” he muttered to himself. “Feeding…”

He could distinctly make out a Charr walking around with a part of a cooked human forearm hanging out of its mouth. There was a total of five of them. He had to be swift and efficient. Pulling three arrows out of his quiver, he then took out a piece of flint rock and a small jar of special oil. The oil he wiped onto the arrow heads then with one flick of the flint he was able to produce a spark which landed cleanly on the arrow head. The arrow head went alight immediately. He dipped the other two arrows onto the flame and soon he had three flame arrows. Reading the wind, he placed all three arrows on his recurve bow at once, the tails of the arrows held in position using the gaps between his fingers.
For this shot he had to be precise for it was one of the hardest tricks his father had ever taught him. He required great concentration and skill. Back in the old days his father had spent hours none-stop teaching him the triple shot.

“Why must I learn something so elaborate that I’ll never use?” he had asked both exhausted and tired. His fingers had been shaking with weakness from repeating the same trick over and over.

“I don’t care if you use it only once in your whole life,” his father began. “But one day it will save your life.” And so he had spent the rest of the day practicing until his fingers were numb from the pain.

“You were right,” Aiden mumbled now as he released his hand and sent the arrows flying into the night.

The next moment he could hear the sound of cloth being set alight and the sound of roaring as he hid behind the foliage. Telling from the racket he could pin point at least three Charr who had been injured and another two who were now running around aimlessly.
Wasting no time he placed another arrow into his bow, this time it was an extra sharp one. In one fluid motion he stood up and took aim. His eyes met with the lone Charr who had spotted him and within a split second the Charr had received an arrow straight between the eyes knocking him down.
By now he had been spotted and the remaining Charr who had not been set alight had returned fire with an arrow of his own. It missed Aiden since he stood both under cover and in the dark. Aiden hadn’t paused even to hesitate. With a measured breath he placed a third arrow and aimed. He released both his breath and the arrow at the same time and watched it slam into the eye of his attacker.
The smell of burning Charr flesh filled his nostrils and he almost paused to remember the smells of Ascalon as it lay burning. But he had not time for that. He rushed forwards into the camp amid the chaos and stabbed a panicking Charr in the heart with his dagger. Another Charr rushed at him with his war axe and for a second it seemed that Aiden was left defenceless. Suddenly he kicked up a big pile of dirt with his foot, bringing it up into his foe’s eyes blinding him temporarily. It was enough time for Aiden to go in with a quick kill using his dagger to the temple.
All of a sudden he was knocked down from behind and felt a large foot stomp onto his back pinning him to the ground.
From behind him came the roar the single Charr he had not killed. The Charr was smarter than his companions and had managed to douse the flames off himself by rolling around on the ground.

“Tasty human!” it growled in what little human dialect it knew.
Aiden began to make peace with the earth and the air and said a silent prayer to Dwayna when he heard the voice of Cynn.

“Stop right there!” she said. “I won’t let you kill my friend as long as I live!” she yelled.

The Charr made a sound which seemed to be a burst of laughter.
“I mean it!” she said. She sounded like a little girl throwing a tantrum.

“My axe very big. You human, very small,” growled the Charr. “What you do eh?”

Cynn looked around desperately for some what to defeat this foe. Then she looked at the Charr directly in the eyes. Its eyes showed arrogance and bloodlust. Cynn’s eyes showed desperation and determination. They stared for a while as though having a battle of wills.
Then Aiden noticed something odd. The wind began to talk, however it wasn’t talking in the familiar chaotic way that nature so often spoke with. Now the wind seemed to talk with some sort of order, some sort of organised clarity. And it began to pick up strength. It began to speak of fierce things, of anger and retribution.
What began as a small gust of wind suddenly turned violent and angry and the entire camp began to shake terribly. The eyes of the Charr shifted from arrogance to fear. Then it took a step back, its axe taken out of its hand by the echoes of the wind and thrown far away.
Aiden quickly spun around, took out his weakest arrow and fired it into the Charr’s face in a quick motion, the wind carrying the arrow and causing it to become ten times deadlier than it normally would be.
The wind died down as quickly as it had started.

“What did you do?” asked Aiden.

“The thread…” she began.

Quickly their attention was turned to the prisoners in the cages who had witnessed the entire event.

“I’ll get you guys out,” Aiden assured them and within a few minutes he had unlocked the cages using a key he had found from the corpse of a Charr.
There were three of them. A mother, her child and a young man who seemed about the same age as himself. Aiden explained to the mother and child that Arah was to the east, gave them some food and bid them safe journey. As for the young man, he was known as Little Thom and would in time become a legend.

Meanwhile far away a lone crow, black as the night, graceful as the wind and yet crooked like a deformed old creature flew across the sky past many lands. Its eyes scanned the plain searching and prowling like a predator. Finally it had reached its destination, a broken old shrine located on the outskirts of Arah. The streets which surrounded this shrine were dark and dirty, the foulest of men dwelled here for this was the backwater section of the city. Where all the sewerage was diverted. The air reeked of corruption here. The crow fluttered through the window and perched upon the hand of the necromancer known as Malgus, its master.
Malgus would pray daily to the statue of Grenth at the heart of the shrine and then would proceed to study the occult arts of death a dark basement filled with divining tools and scrolls.

“What news from the Charr?” asked Malgus, his eyes brimming with malcontent as he stared into the crows dark eyes.

“Coming! Death!” it chirped in an inhuman croak like some dying creature trying to mimic speech.

“And what word from my master?”

“They… Will… Come,” it sounded out hoarsely. “Your brethren.”

Malgus grinned. An army of necromancers would come under the guise of aiding King Dorian. And in the last moment they would turn against him. He had already made a pact with the Charr. The destruction of the human lands would aid them in their bid to create a massive army of undead which would ravage all the lands of Tyria. And he, Malgus would lead them as their general.

Awesome writing.

Question: Is Lucius the one who made the Cataclysm happen or was it Vizier...the dude from Sanctum Cay? I have read the whole story so dont know if you mentioned it or not.

I'd figured that if Vizier caused the Cataclysm then logically he should have been wiped out as well. As for who did it I'll leave that a mystery for now.

Awesome writing cant wait to read more

Three

General Dresden set the pile of Charr corpses on fire and stood back with a hand on his nose to prevent the foul smell. It had been the fifth scouting party they had hunted down and killed in just as many days. He knew that there would be dozens more in the field scouting out Orrian outposts and reporting their positions. The least he could do was ensure some of them didn’t make it back.

“Even in death these Charr smell worse than horse dung,” Dresden spat with a menacing look in his eyes. A scar hung under his left eyelid like a sign of malice.

“I wonder why they even bother scouting out our positions,” replied first officer Granice, his tall build made his heavy hammer look like a toy in comparison. “If what our own scouts say is true they have enough troops to wipe mankind off the face of Tyria. If it weren’t for the Guildwars we might still stand a chance.”

Dresden knew about the hardships of the Guildwars for his family had ruled over one of the most powerful guilds in Orr. The Crystal Dynasty guild owned palaces, armies and had commanded a vast amount of respect. And even at the height of their power, an assassin had managed to sneak into his father’s chambers at night and slit the old man’s throat. Dresden had slain the assassin by himself after his ultra sensitive ears picked up something out of the ordinary which woke him up instantly from a deep sleep in the chamber nearby. When Dresden had struck, the assassin was so surprised by the speed at which his swords move that he could see the fear in his eyes. The swords moved like a blur slicing through flesh and armour in such a manner that the assassin’s arms had not fallen off until five seconds after the cuts.
The assassin had been imported from beyond the sea and was of Zaishen heritage. He suspected treachery from Ascalon and had sworn revenge. However the Charr took it for him when they burst over the wall.
Dresden sighed a long sigh. His battle wounds scarred his body like markings of battle. He was tired and weary and had seen enough bloodshed to last most men a lifetime.
Over on the hill the rest of his battalion were practicing the art of the sword with each other and he felt a feeling of pride in his chest as he watched them. But it was probable they would never become as good as him. His skill with a sword was unparalleled. He was a Swordmaster of the highest order and his skill had so exceeded that of his peers that he possessed a very rare skill. His hands had become so strong and ambidextrous that he was able to wield two swords each with an equal amount of skill as though he were only wielding one. With two swords he could parry any attack be it an arrow or a sword or even a hammer.

“Footwork!” he yelled at a stumbling soldier.

“The men are tired. They’ve been pursuing Charr without sleep for the past three days,” Granice told him. “They need some rest or their reflexes won’t be too sharp.”

“There is no rest when the fate of our lands depends on what we do,” Dresden replied.

Granice placed his hand on Dresden’s shoulder for a while then left to prepare the horses.
Suddenly a cry came from atop the hill. Dresden spun around and saw one of his scouts running towards him, a young ranger boy who looked bruised and tattered.

“Sir! The Charr main force!” he yelled.

“Where?” everyone was silent.

“At least four days march to Orr! They’ll be here at nightfall!”

“We must warn Arah,” Dresden said sternly. “Everyone get mounted, we leave straight away,” he ordered to a frantic packing of bags and supplies.
Across the orange horizon he could already see the sun floating just above the land. The scene was a beauty to behold but contrasted strongly against the bloodshed that was to come. He smiled at the irony of it all. He had little doubt that Arah would be destroyed and that he would die defending his city. But he also knew that there was no other path for him, he was a warrior and that was his destiny. He knew that he, like all men would die sooner or later, whether it be of old age or by the axe of an enemy it made no difference to him.

He turned to his men.

“Prepare an ambush,” he ordered without any hesitation in his voice. Every single one of his troops stopped in their tracks and looked at him. “You heard me, we’re going to attack this threat head on.”

Granice approached him and signalled that he needed to speak to him alone.

“We have a few dozen men with us and you propose we take on the main force of the Charr army? Its suicide.”

“No. I wish to slow them down, buy Arah as much time as we can,” he smiled.

The first attack came the next morning. A mass horde of Charr were walking across a clear path that led through the forest. They all moved on foot as there were no beasts that would carry them. They trampled the ground wherever they moved to the resonating beat of their footsteps. The Charr war-leader Uggh thought he noticed something odd about the patch of ground just ahead but decided it was minor, his bestial instincts ignoring the minor details. All of a sudden his forward flank burst into flames and were bloodied by hundreds of sharp spikes which shot out of the ground. They had lost about a dozen soldiers when Uggh pulled back.

“Traps!” he screamed a guttural cry.

The message was relayed quickly by word of mouth all the way to the back of the column which was about fifty miles. Such was the size of this army that they were forced to split into a line formation just to get through the forest area. This in turn made their flanks vulnerable due to the single-file way that they proceeded.
Uggh ordered another bunch of troops to replace his forward flank and this time he was more weary. Snatching a bow from one of his body guards, he fired at the next patch of ground that looked suspicious to him and watched as it burst into flames. The first sign of resistance. But he was not worried, he had more troops to his disposal than there were traps. After all, he was the commander of the biggest standing army in the world of Tyria. This thought made his chest swell with pride and he gave a loud animal-like sneer.

“Timber!” came a voice that was distinctly human deep from the trees which lined the side of the path they were on. The next second many tall trees began to topple down directly onto their path followed by a hail of arrows.

This double strike so confused his troops that they did not know which to react to first, the trees which were falling on them or the arrows which were ripping them to shreds. It all happened so quickly and in an instant most of the forward flanks were suffering casualties. Uggh himself had managed to dodge one of the trees and caught an arrow in his hand in mid-flight. He didn’t become the war-leader from being weak, he was handpicked because he was the fastest, the strongest and the most brutal of them all.

“Return fire!” he ordered his forward flanks while they were already in a state of chaos.

The Charr archers quickly took out their bows and began firing into the darkness of the trees hoping that the sheer number of their shots would take down their foes. But it was hopeless, the many trees provided ample cover and Dresden smiled as he hid in his position behind a fallen log.
Dresden motioned his troops for silence by raising a hand. He looked out at the forward flank of Charr and at the chaos he had caused. More Charr were scuttling over the fallen tree trunks which had blocked their path so they could refill their flanks. He spotted the leader of them all, a big powerful Charr who had sharp eyes and carried a giant axe the size of a man. He knew it would be folly to attempt an assassination as this leader would surely be able to kill any man under Dresden’s command without much effort. He had seen the creature catch an arrow in mid-air after all.
Uggh by now had sent a scout party of forty Charr into the dense forest, more than enough to defeat Dresden’s small force in open battle. However this was not open battle. And Dresden knew this forest like he knew his homeland. His men had rolled dirt and grass on their armours to prevent being smelt out by the Charr. The enemy had keen noses.
Dresden motioned to his men to take up new positions which they obeyed quickly and swiftly.
Stomping through the dense forest, the forty or so Charr walked with their weapons drawn and their senses sharp, but not sharp enough as they had already passed Dresden’s force who were all standing hidden behind tree trunks holding their breath. And now that the Charr had walked passed them, their backs were in full view of the humans.
One group of Orrian soldiers took out bows and aimed their shots, the other group took out their swords and prepared to charge.

“Fire!” Dresden yelled as dozens of arrows shot into the backs of the Charr knocking most of them dead instantly.

Before there was even a time for pause the other group of Orrian soldiers charged in right behind the arrows at full speed cutting down as many Charr as they could before the Charr even had time to spin around. The remaining handful of Charr still standing were swiftly dealt with, Dresden beheading two in one swift movement using both swords.
Dresden’s heart was racing from the adrenaline which came with such bloodlust and the careful and lethal execution excited him. He was about to congratulate his men and move onto the next phase of his plan when suddenly he heard the loud footsteps of heavy beasts running. He turned around and saw what seemed like hundreds of shapes moving towards him in the distance.

“Move!” he ordered and so the men did.

They ran to a pre-determined spot behind a giant fallen log and knocked their bows. This time Uggh had sent an army of over a hundred Charr to take out their human harassers. However Dresden had planned for this also and within moments the new force had stepped into the next bunch of traps that had been planned for them. The advancing Charr stopped abruptly in an area brimming with traps that sprang dust, flame and spikes into the air. From above in the high trees four of Dresden’s men were waiting hidden in the branches with large containers full of oil. They poured the oil down onto the Charr soldiers and another second later a dozen arrows with burning tips fired into the fray setting the hundred Charr on fire.
The screaming of dieing Charr was sickening and inhuman, the smell even worse. They watched for what seemed an hour but was actually a few minutes at the agony. Finally the last fire died down and Dresden was relieved. He had done his duty and probably the most efficient ambush of his career. He would look back on this day with pride and dignity. That all came to a halting crash when he felt the sword slide under his chin.

“Petty humans,” came the growling voice of a Charr.

He looked around and saw the rest of his men all in similar positions with Charr holding swords to their necks.
Then it dawned on him what had happened. The first group of Charr had been sent to locate their position within the forest. The second group was a distraction. However Uggh had sent a third group that would circle around and catch them from behind while they were busy killing the second group.

“Human flesh,” another Charr growled while licking its lips.

Food For the Charr, thought Dresden. How unflattering a way to die.

dude, you are an amazing writer. U should be an author

Thanks to everyone for their support and motivation. Here's chapter four.

Four

Little Thom, despite his name was not little by any means. He was a strongly built young man with much body hair and even more brute strength. But despite this he was rather simple minded and honest. These were qualities that made Aiden smile during the past day as they travelled through the forest and had recently arrived at the foot of a large mountain.

“According to the map there is a secret passage that serves as a shortcut that will take us to the Dead Forest,” Aiden explained gazing at the map.

“But what’s the catch?” Little Thom asked with just a hint of arrogance.

“Well this map seems to be over a century old… and nobody I know of has ever crossed through this passage since this map was written.”

He looked accusingly at the skull and crossbones on the tattered piece of paper which marked the entrance to the passage. But what disturbed him the most was the name of the passage itself: Point of No Return.
Upon entering they all noticed that there was absolutely no light within. The only light came from a torch which Cynn held close to her. Chestnut stood near Cynn for he was afraid of the dark and protested strongly with Aiden not to come here.
The passage was like a giant maze, each path splitting off into five more the deeper they went. It was no surprise that no mortal had dared venture here for a hundred years. Luckily for them they had a map.

“I don’t like this place,” Cynn said as the torch shook in her hand. “It feels like there something alive down here that isn’t natural.”

“I don’t like it either,” replied Aiden. “I can’t sense the wind or the heart beat of Dwayna.”

At that moment they saw a giant stone figure with an inhuman face of such unnatural ferocity they all became startled.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say that was a statue of Grenth,” Little Thom said and shook them all out of a daze. “The necromancers must have built this place.”

They carried on through the darkness without a single spoken word for what seemed like an eternity. They had no sense of time, no sense of direction and no sense of their surroundings. All they had to guide them was a tattered map given to them by Lucius. After a while they decided to rest due to weariness. Chestnut was feeling ill and there was no water or pastures in this place.
The set up a small camp in a cavernous cave-like area where they decided to rest and have something to eat.

“Thom,” said Aiden placing his hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for coming with us.”

“What choice do I have?” he replied. “There’s nothing left for me. The Searing took everything from me. My father’s lands, our prized hogs…”

“I remember your prized hogs,” smiled Aiden. “The pride of the outer settlements I seem to recall.”

“Life was so simple back then. All we had to think about were the land and our annual hog competition. My family stayed well clear of the Guildwars.”

Thom and Aiden had known each other briefly during childhood when Aiden’s father used to get rid of the pesky river skale from destroying the crops. His father took pride in clearing pests for farmer and earned a good living at it too. During the warm season he’d take Aiden with him and together they’d shoot skale. Those were some of his favourite moments of his childhood. And now all that was gone, ripped apart by the Charr. A tear appeared in his eye as he remembered his father fighting a horde of Charr. Outnumbered twenty to one the old man was still able to put up a good fight and take a few down with him.

“Run Aiden! Forget about me!” his father had bid him in the heat of battle, the fires of Ascalon burning, the sky black with smoke.

“What about you?” Aiden yelled back unable to do anything but watch as the Charr surrounded him.

“Dying is part of nature boy,” his father’s voice contained a warmth and character despite his impending death. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

And without another word his father turned and began to fight with boy in hand and dagger in pouch, his chest beaming with pride as he fought off the Charr with his last breath.
Tears streamed down Aiden’s face as he ran further and further away, his legs felt like they were made of stone and a heavy burden upon his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Cynn said sitting close to him.

“Yeah… I was just thinking,” Aiden replied gazing directly into the fire of the torch.

“There’s something I want to tell you about,” she began once Thom lay back against a wall to sleep. “About how you found me.”

Aiden remembered the morning he had found Cynn. It was in one of the outer settlements. She was buried within a heavy ruin that was once her farm house. It had burnt to such a degree that it was pitch black and ready to crumble as though made of charcoal. What alerted him was the sound of a young girl crying. When he investigated he was surprised to find Cynn lying within the rubble with a few minor scratches.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Aiden tried to comfort her. “I know what it’s like.”

“I have a dark secret I’ve not told anyone. When the Charr came and destroyed everything around me something happened,” she had the look of an angry child trying to get rid of a heavy burden.

She was looking out the window of her family home as the Charr surrounded the farm burning everything in sight. Her mother, her father and her brothers ran out armed with swords to fight off this threat but knowing that they would meet their doom.

“I want to help you fight,” she cried as her family were getting ready to meet the Charr threat.

“No Cynn! You are too young, you must stay inside where it’s safe,” her stubborn father replied. Then he placed her hand on her face gently and sighed. “You are my daughter and I love you dearly. It would kill me to see you in any danger.”

“Please daddy.”

“You stay here,” was the final reply.

Moments later she watched and wept as her entire family were slaughtered like the very farm animals they kept before a feast. She banged her fists against the wall in terror as she Charr began to set the farm house on fire. She cried at the sound of beast-like laughter outside. As the fire crept inside and spread her dread turned to pure hatred at the Charr. Closer and closer the flames got, the smoke made her cough uncontrollably. How badly she wanted to just somehow control the flames that were engulfing her and force them upon her foes. Such fury burnt within her that suddenly she let out the loudest yell she had ever though possible and such was the fury that was unleashed that the flames themselves began to reel back.
Outside the farm house the Charr watched in astonishment as the fire leapt up from the hut in the shape of some sinister phoenix that had risen from the ashes. They all tried to flee in terror as the phoenix flew around engulfing everything in its path killing dozens of Charr instantly.
Such chaos had never been seen before by the Charr, it was like something totally unholy and vengeful and unstoppable. A few of the Charr fired arrows at it to no effect before it engulfed them also. A trail of death and destruction was left in its wake before all the fires suddenly just went out seemingly from exhaustion. And inside the house Cynn lay quietly with no tears left to cry and no more will to live.
Aiden wrapped a warm blanket around Cynn and hugged her. At this moment he felt as though he’d give his life to protect her, to save her from the horrors she had faced.

“I’m so sorry,” he said with a sadness in his voice.

They rested for what seemed an eternity in the darkness of the passage known as the Point of No Return until Thom woke up wearily. For a temporary moment he forgot where he was, his dreams had been unpleasant and served as a reminded of what had been destroyed.

“Wake up. We need to move,” he said rousing Aiden and Cynn from their sleep.

They packed quickly and began to move further into the dark unknown with a future that was uncertain and little hope left within them.

Honestly dude, I would buy a book from you. If you are not taking writing in University i will hunt you down and slap you. YOU ARE AMAZING. Keep'em coming.

Five

Just three more days were left to prepare for the oncoming Charr. The defences had been well prepared outside the city perimeter with thousands of Arah’s armed guards lined up along the walls bearing the royal crest. Their weapons promptly sharpened, their armour cleaned. And within the city itself the residents were hysterical with fear, the atmosphere was that of mass panic. A handful of people fled the city to the country-side for safety. However like all big disasters, the majority would stay back to safe-guard their houses and their possessions as though they were the only things that mattered to them in this life.
Houses were being boarded up, shops being closed, the law was hard to contain as so many of Arah’s armed men had been forced into or conscripted into the army.
That day as the sun slowly began to set over the murky orange horizon, Lucius retreated to the Inner Sanctum of the city in a troubled state. All day long he had been having an impending feeling of doom, a feeling so strong it made him physically ill that his gut felt sour and he was unable to eat.
The Inner Sanctum of the city was located right at the city’s heart, straight underneath the royal palace. It was located deep and dark under the ground and was guarded by powerful magical seals.
Lucius walked through the main corridor leading to the Inner Sanctum whispering the chants casually which unsealed each magical door in front of him. All in all there were about thirty doors, each one with a different password required to unseal it. Lucius was one of only a handful who knew the magical chants to open them.
The Inner Sanctum itself was both dark and murky like some sort of abandoned basement that was centuries old. Mould and dust hang in the air and an unnatural light burned from the ceiling which provided just enough illumination for the eyes to see around.

“Artifacts of Power!” Lucius exclaimed in awe as he always did whenever he came to such a place.

Scattered all across the room were dozens upon dozens of the most dangerous artefacts in the land. Artefacts that no one man was allowed to possess for fear of the destructive power he could wield. The law of Arah stated that theft of any such artefact would result in public execution, something that had not occurred for centuries.
The artefacts themselves were assembled by the gods back in the ancient days and were placed into mankind’s hands for safe keeping on the condition that they never be used unless in the most dire situations.
This was a most dire situation.
Lucius’ eyes scanned the artefacts in the room. There was the Sword of Khartoum, a powerful weapon wreathed in flame which is said to have been used by the first hero to slay the powerful Titans. There was the Unnamed Hero’s Skull, a powerful necromancer weapon believed to be made from the skull of that very hero who defeated the Titans. The Original Bow of Ithas lay on a shelf, it was believed to be a bow which never missed its target. He could feel the power emanating from all these artefacts at once, filling his being, beckoning him to their use. But he would have none of it for mankind had sworn an oath to the gods to protect them.

“Beautiful aren’t they?” came a voice from the dark.

“Who are you?!” Lucius demanded to know.

“I was sent for by Malgus. I lead the Dark Aura Guild, the most powerful guild of necromancers in the land. And I was sent to Arah to aide in the oncoming war,” came a voice that was both regal and calm.

“Who gave you permission to enter this place?”

To this question the stranger smiled and took a step out of the darkness. It was only then that Lucius realized the size of this man. He was both tall and extremely strongly built. He wore robes which covered most of his body and a tall round turban-like hat on his head. His face was tanned and he had a slight goatee. But it was his eyes which gave him away as a necromancer. Those twin pale specks which spoke of a lifeless existence devoted to the dark arts. However this man was extremely healthy looking to be a necromancer, a fact which made Lucius wonder.

“I once served in the royal court Arah a few decades ago. I see the seals haven’t been changed.” Then after a slight pause he introduced himself. “My name is Vizier,” he smiled.

Lucius shook his hand hesitantly trying to find out his intentions.

“What leads you to the Inner Sanctum,” he asked Vizier after regaining his composure.

“This place draws me. These artefacts are works of art and I long to glance upon the finest artwork in the land,” Vizier replied but Lucius had a feeling it was more to it than that.

Then all of a sudden Vizier picked up one of the artefacts, the Unnamed Hero’s Skull.
Lucius quickly moved to point his staff at Vizier in a defensive position.

“It’s a marvel such powerful tools are no longer used,” Vizier said casually and coolly.

There was a moment of long silence and Lucius could feel the tension rising through his body like a chill.

“You know the agreement with the gods…” Lucius said, his voice shaky.
Vizier then casually placed the skull back where he found it and smiled warmly.

“Well it’s time I went to prepare my guild for battle,” he said and walked out of the Sanctum leaving Lucius alone.

Sweat was gleaming down Lucius’ forehead. He had seen the greed in Vizier’s face and had tried to read his mind but the barriers were too strong for him to penetrate.

“These necromancers are up to something,” he muttered to himself before he too left the chamber.

Meanwhile several stories above, the King sat on his throne receiving scores of war reports from the front lines. Hundreds of messengers hustled and bustled their way through the royal court each day and the atmosphere there had reached fever pitch. The King had not slept for days and a troubled look crossed his face.

“Your leading general Dresden is reported missing,” came the message from a young man.

This only added to the mounting tensions in the King’s mind. The previous day he had lost an entire battalion who had set up an outpost near Orr’s perimeter. No doubt the main attacking flank of the Charr army had slaughtered them before they could report back.

“Give me a report on troop numbers on our side,” he ordered his chief priest.

“Currently we have two hundred and fifty-two archers, six hundred and nineteen warriors, a dozen elementalists trained in the arts of area effect spells, forty-three monks, fourteen mesmers most of which however were called to duty from the local Actors Guild where the normally perform plays, and a batch of necromancers have just arrived and are awaiting count.”

“And how many do the Charr have?” he asked in a troubled voice.

“Rough estimates… Twenty thousand will battle us at Arah, another eighty thousand right behind if they ever need to replenish their ranks.”

That was a total of over a hundred thousand Charr that would have to be slain in order for them to survive. The King slumped against his thrown trying to overcome his fear with pure determination.
The others in the court looked to him for support and hope for that was all they had left.

“We need more conscripts,” he finally said. “Get every man, woman and child over the age of fourteen and give them a weapon.”

A wave of hopelessness suddenly spread throughout the court. King Dorian was determined to take on this threat head on for the City of the Gods was too precious a thing to have destroyed. His family had sworn a blood oath to guard it with their lives and the lives of their people and he would not be the one to break it. However the true threat was not the Charr. The true threat was within.

awesome plz write more im hooked

what he said

At around Chapter Five I've finally formed together the entire story in my head. Before that I was just writing hoping that the story would form itself. All I'll say is that the conclusion is going to be a gigantic finale of Biblical proportions :P
Anyways here's chapter six, which has also been by far the most difficult chapter to write so far.

Six

“We have arrived the Dead Forest,” proclaimed Aiden as they stepped out from the darkness of the passages, out of the side of the mountain to behold scores upon scores of sickly looking trees as far as the eye could see. “According to this map the Tower of the Dark Elementalists should be somewhere inside this vast forest.”

Little Thom gazed over at the map and sighed.

“Whoever wrote this map didn’t mark it clearly enough. The tower could be anywhere! It’s like a needle in a haystack!”

“Knowing Aiden’s skills I bet he could find that needle,” Cynn joked, it was a pleasant distraction from all the impending feelings of doom they had.
Aiden listened to the wind intently trying to pick up traces of whispers from the leaves.

“These trees… they do not speak as though they are alive,” his voice was sombre. “This place is cursed!”

They all looked at each other out of a growing feeling of dread and proceeded on.
Aiden was right, the colours of the forest were sickly green and drab browns everywhere the went. The trees looked shrivelled and unnatural, like grotesque statues made by some long dead race. The sun light barely penetrated through thick trees and began to remind them of the dark passage the further they travelled inwards.
As they travelled further within strange things began to happen. They began to hear faint voices like bizarre traces in the wind that were hard to make out. A few times Cynn claimed that something cold had touched her but there was nothing around. No animals, no insects, nothing. Even the shape of the trees began to wane as though they were trying to convey a feeling of unwelcomeness to the travellers.

“I don’t like this place,” Cynn spoke in a quiet voice.

“Neither do I. An ancient war was fought here centuries ago and many people died,” Aiden explained. “Their corpses were not properly buried but instead were sunk into the soil gradually. Their spirits still linger here.”

It was no less than a few minutes later that they suddenly witnessed something which stunned them. Before them they saw a plain where thousands of spectral beings stood. These beings were in the forms of men and wore armour and carried swords and were in the middle of a mighty battle like some sort of scene out of another age. Their enemies were not visible and it looked as though they were fighting thin air however the injuries that were inflicted upon them were testament to the hazards of the battle.

“Regroup! This time we have them!” yelled a gruff looking spectre that seemed to be the general of the army.

The rest of the army regrouped and charged at their non-existent attackers only to be torn to shreds by some sort of powerful fire magic that burned them all into scorched bones. Mere seconds later they were back and looking healthy once more and the battle had restarted.

“They must be ghosts,” Cynn said after the shock had subsided.
Aiden approached the army leaving Cynn and Little Thom behind and cowering behind some thick trees.

“Where are you going?” Little Thom asked with a shaky voice.

“To talk to them,” came the reply.

Aiden approached the general who seemed not to acknowledge his presence at all.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the Tower of the Dark Elementalists,” Aiden asked the ghost general.

“Not now,” the general replied without looking down at Aiden. “Today I lead my men to glory.”

And before Aiden could say another word the general bid his men to attack and Aiden could only watch as the thousand or so ghosts ran into fight their none-existent foes. The battle raged for a while and then the general gave the order to regroup.

“Regroup! This time we have them!” he yelled. Aiden sighed and shook his head as once again the ghost army were obliterated.

“This is hopeless,” he moaned as the ghost army respawned a moment later.

By now Cynn and Little Thom had come out of hiding and seemed to be no longer afraid of the ghosts.

“Let me talk to him,” Cynn said and approached the general.

“Eh? What’s a little girl like you doing here?” the general said acknowledging her presence as she approached.

“I’ve come to warn you of their tactics,” she replied. “The king sent me as a spy to find out their strengths and weaknesses and to warn you just before the battle.”

The general grinned and gave a loud barbaric roar.

“And what information do you bring?” he asked.

“I warn you never to regroup during the battle. Doing so will give them enough time to cast a devastating fire spell that will destroy your army in one swift move,” she warned him in a serious tone.

The general seemed to ponder her words for a minute and then thanked her for the information. The ghosts charged into battle gallantly with swords drawn and shields raised. This time however the general did not give the order to regroup and suddenly everything stopped. All the soldiers looked around puzzled and in confusion.

“What’s happened?” the general asked nobody in particular. “I feel as though… as though I’ve been… set free.”

“You have all been dead for centuries, slain by the very foes you fought here. Go now in peace and know that your sacrifices have never been forgotten by the rest of mankind,” Cynn spoke with a wisdom that was far beyond her age.

They all stood in the confusion for a while until the general nodded in silent agreement and they all started to fade like dust being blown away by the wind.

“Wait! Before you go, where is the Tower?” Aiden asked.

“Climb the highest tree and you will see it,” the general replied pointing his finger over at an area beyond the plain. “I bid you farewell…”

And with that the ghost army that haunted the Dead Forests for centuries were no more for they had found peace.
The group walked to where the general had pointed and surely enough, there they found a tree so large, its base would take a grown man several moments just to circle around it. Hundreds of vines hung around it making it easy enough to climb.
Aiden secured himself into position and began to climb the mighty tree, vines in hands and all his gear on floor below him. Cynn and Little Thom looked on, ready to catch him if he ever fell.
With his nimble feet and swift hands, within minutes he was at the top. He looked down at his travelling companions far below him and they seemed to be the size of pebbles. Fortunately for Aiden, he was not afraid of heights.
Clambering through some thick leaves, he peered out at the forest. The view was breathtaking, there were trees as far as the line on the edge of the horizon and the warmth of the sun put a smile on his face for he had not seen it for many days.
But the most spectacular sight was the Tower itself.
To say it was huge was an understatement. It was a giant building made of the blackest stone that reached up far beyond the clouds. It was so high that Aiden had to tip his head over just to examine it. Never in the lands of Tyria did he believe that such a giant building could exist. A building so tall that the top of it reached beyond the heavens. And suddenly he felt a strong feeling of uncertainty. He wondered what sort of people the Dark Elementalists were; these spell casters who had shunned the rest of the world and exiled themselves to live in this tower forever. Would they help against the Charr? So many thoughts and emotions buzzed through Aiden’s head at that moment like a swarm of bees that he nearly forgot where he was.

“Do you see it?” he heard Little Thom’s voice from the foot of the tree.

“It’s amazing!” Aiden exclaimed. “Truly amazing!”

Your commitment and the quality of your writing has me almost speechless...I'm amazed...if you don't have a job yet, become an author, I want to read your books - really!

Quote:

OMG WOW your are a very good writer I love these stories keep em coming you got me hooked

what he said

Thanks to everyone for their support. This short story has swelled to over 24 A4 pages of size 11 font on my word processor with still 6 more chapters left to go! I love the feedback and the number of views this story is getting has exceeded my wildest expectations. Without further ado here's Chapter Seven.

Seven

Morning had arrived in the quiet forests near Arah where the animals once slept and the trees once rumbled. But the peace and tranquillity was interrupted by something sinister and savage.
Hordes of Charr in their tens of thousands sprinted across the land on foot leaving a trail of destruction and chaos. Their footsteps so loud that the earth below them trembled in fear, their anger so savage that they cut their way through the trees crushing and tearing there way ever closer to Arah.
Dresden woke up feeling a terrible headache and to the rumbling of the cage he sat within as it dragged across the ground. His body was badly bruised from the torture the previous night. The Charr had tried to get him to spill the information regarding the defences of the city. Uggh himself and threatened to kill his men one by one each time Dresden refused him. Needless to say Dresden and Granice were now the only survivors from their battalion. That was a decision that made Dresden feel ill. However he saw it as a sacrifice. The life of a few dozen men to give Arah a fighting chance. He would have given his own life too for it. However the Charr had a cruel sense of humour and decided to leave him crest fallen and in pain.

“Sir, we’re close to Arah now,” Granice spoke quietly from the cage nearby. “It is over.”

“It is never over!” Dresden spat. “Even if the odds are one hundred to one, which they are, there is always hope. Don’t you ever forget that!”

Suddenly the horde came to a stop at the top of the hill. Everything came to a crashing silence as the two men waited nervously for what was to come. Dresden peered out of his cage and saw a mountain of Charr figures everywhere he looked. All of them were silent and motionless except for the sound of heavy breathing. Then he noticed someone moving through the ranks towards them. It was Uggh.

“Dresdennnn!” spat the leader of the Charr army.

Uggh unlocked the cages and dragged the two men out and threw them against the dirt floor. Dresden moaned in pain.

“Kill me. I will never tell you anything about the defences,” Dresden said defiantly.

Uggh took a long hard look at Dresden. Here was a man covered in bruises, a black eye and looked as though he had crawled through mud. And despite all this Dresden was still defiant to the very end. Uggh laughed.

“No kill,” Uggh spat as he spoke. “Trade!”

“What?”

And with that Uggh stood Dresden onto his feet and brushed some dirt off his armour. Then dragging him by the hair, Uggh pulled him to the very front of the horde and the marching began again in earnest.
Through trees, paths and woodland they marched for what seemed an eternity. The sound of footsteps echoed like the sounds of thunder. Dresden dared to look behind him and saw what seemed like a sea of Charr.

“What do you mean trade?” he asked Uggh.

The mighty Charr smiled an ugly sinister smile but did not respond. And then they were over the hill.
Before them on a giant clear plain criss-crossed with roads stood the walls of Arah. Built centuries ago from the finest marble they stood as a testament to the power of the gods. And within the walls could be seen giant towers reaching high into the sky. Banners and flags of all colours and multitudes flew from these towers further demonstrating the strength of the gods. A vast ocean lay beyond the city which glinted in the early morning sunlight. The white architecture of it all reflected light which hung down from gaps within the clouds like heavenly drapes. The sight of it all made Dresden’s heart miss a beat. Here was Arah in all its mighty glory.

“May Balthazar watch over us,” prayed Dresden as the march continued down into the plain. The Charr were to reveal themselves to the Orrians at long last.

As the horde moved closer to the city, Dresden could make out catapults and archers mounted all over the walls awaiting the coming onslaught.
In front of the walls themselves was a grand army of men and women fully armed to the teeth in formation with grim looks on their faces. Dresden could make out signs of despair and lost hope in the faces of the men, some of them as young as fourteen.
Behind him, the horde halted and stood in a long line formation like a giant wave about to crash upon a shore.

“We’re here,” Granice muttered besides him, his heart racing and his eyes wide.

There was a long silence as both sides of the conflict stood motionless to gaze upon their enemy and make evaluations. Slowly the front gates of the city began to open, the huge marble door lifting into the air. From within came a procession of cavalry. About a dozen riders dressed in the finest silks. The rider at the front of the procession carried the King’s banner.
Uggh, his three generals and his personal bodyguard of two-hundred strong broke formation with the horde and walked over to meet the procession with Dresden and Granice dragging along behind them.
The two parties met in the middle of the war zone.
King Dorian gazed nervously upon Uggh and the elite Charr bodyguard which could butcher him on the stop if need be. He swallowed his fear and began to speak.

“We wish to negotiate a cease-fire of at least two more days,” he announced. “This will give my army a better chance to prepare and your army to better scout the positions of our defences.” He was calling a bluff to try to buy more time.

Uggh gave out a roar of laughter which started a chain reaction resulting in the entire army heaving with laughter. This lowered the morale of the Orrians further.

“I wish to trade,” Uggh spoke finally after the laughter subsided. He pulled Dresden and Granice into full view of the King. “Your top generals… For your own life!”

Dresden suddenly realized why they had been kept alive. It was some sort of cruel joke that Uggh was going to play. The entire trade was nothing more than a mocking joke.

“You can’t be serious!” the King exclaimed.

The Charr bodyguards drew their swords all of a sudden startling the Orrians.

“You can’t do this! You’re breaking the laws of war!”

“Silly human! To come with such little party!” Uggh bellowed with laughter. “We are Charr! Respect human laws we do not!” And with that Uggh drew his own sword.

In that moment Dresden felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins like a flood bursting from a dam. Time seemed to slow down for him as he watched Uggh begin to swing his sword at King Dorian’s head. And in that quick moment he drew out the blade of one of Uggh’s general’s who stood nearby from its sheath. And within the next second there was a quick flash of light as Uggh’s arm flew into the air and blood spouted out from the stump that was once Uggh’s arm.
Uggh gave a loud moan of pain just as Dresden spun around furthering the momentum he had and sliced Uggh’s head cleanly off his shoulders.
King Dorian stood stunned and unable to move.
The Charr too stood unable to move and in astonishment at what had just happened.
Dresden raised his blood stained sword into the air and faced the Charr army in bold defiance.

“For Orr!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

“Charge!” came the loud battle cry of King Dorian’s voice as behind him echoed the voices of thousands of citizens of Arah.

The standing army of Orrian soldiers that had formed a line along the walls of Arah’s perimeter charged forward towards the Charr with high morale and hope in their voices.
The next thing Dresden knew, he was overcome by bloodlust boldly charging into the fray like an unstoppable demon of death.
The final war of Arah had begun.

Good writing man

if u dont write more i will KILL you this story is awesome u better become a frigin author.......

Since it's the weekend I've been able to write more than usual. In actual fact I've written all the way up to chapter 10 but I don't want to spoil it by releasing all of it at once :P
All I'll say is that the battle has well and truly begun by then.

Eight

Three weary travellers and a horse approached the large entrance of the black tower within which the Dark Elementalists practiced their power exiled from the rest of the world. The tower stood in the centre of dense forest of rotting trees. This forest was surrounded by high mountain peaks which barred off entrance to the forest from the rest of the world. There were only two ways to enter this forest, one was through the secret passage and the other was through a narrow path at the back between two mountain sides. This other path required the traveller to pass through the Fetid Desert which was a cursed and dry land in which nothing could survive for long. As for the secret passage, it was enchanted by a powerful spell which made the entrance invisible to everyone. Anybody who would stumble upon the entrance to this passage which was in the side of a mountain would not be able to see it for it was made to be invisible. However very rarely the Dark Elementalists would temporarily disable the spell which guarded the entrance to the passage to allow a chosen few to enter.

“We’ve been expecting you,” came a quiet and almost sinister voice.
The speaker wore a black cloak and a hood over his face hiding all his features in shadow.

“We were told to come here,” Aiden replied to the shadowy figure who stood upon the top of the steps leading into the tower. “We were sent from Arah to request help against an impending war against the Charr.”

“Speak no more for there is nothing you can say that we do not already know,” replied the shadowy figure. “Now I bid you to enter.”

Two large doors swung open to reveal an even deeper darkness within. The shadowy figure seemed to vanish once he entered.
Chestnut explained to Aiden that he felt a strange aura coming from within and would never enter the tower during his lifetime. Aiden allowed Chestnut to stand wait outside and then hesitantly took the first steps within.
As soon as he was inside, the darkness suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a golden light which beamed from the ceiling. A large granite stair case stood in front of him and he saw other shadowy figures walking around chanting and humming.

“Follow,” said their guide and he led them up the steps.

They were led up many countless storeys through the tower, everywhere they looked they saw cloaked figures meditating, chanting or reading scriptures. There were hallways and corridors all over the place and it seemed as though the tower could house at least ten thousand people at any one time.

“Where are you taking us?” Cynn asked after what seemed like the fiftieth storey they’d climbed.

“To see the masters,” replied the shadowy figure.

Everywhere they went Cynn could feel the threads of spells being weaved in thousands of intricate methods, some so intricate she could not believe they were possible. The dim humming of energy emanated through the walls without pause.
Finally after a very long climb they reached one of the highest levels in the tower, the Chamber of Lords as it was known. On this level was a large set of double doors that seemed to be made of gold. It was guarded by four dark elementalists, in front of them stood a bald boy who looked slightly older than Cynn. He had a bare chest full of strange tattoos that look more like inscriptions and wore silk pants.
The travellers were quite taken aback by the site of this boy.

“Greetings. My name is Mhenlo and the masters will see you now,” the boy said with a warm voice.

Aiden suspected he was no older than sixteen by the face however Mhenlo was very solidly built with quite a muscular and wide frame for his age.
Mhenlo gestured to the dark elementalist guards and they parted. A short while later the door began opening slowly.

“What’s a boy like you doing in this tower?” asked Little Thom.

“My parents sent me here just as the Wall burst open,” he said with a slight bit of regret in his voice. “They were high priests and knew about this secret place… however I have not heard from them again.”

Inside the Chamber of Lords was an amazing sight. It seemed the walls were made of solid gold and decorated with elaborate designs which shone in magnificent glory. Not in the most powerful kingdoms had they ever set eyes on such a place. And at the end of the chamber sat what appeared to be three golden statues of tall men. However they were not statues.

“These are the lords of the Dark Elementalists. All their power was taught to them by these three,” Mhenlo explained. “They were created by the gods to look after the world.”

“What exactly do they do?” Aiden asked in awe.

“They record the history of the world and can see into the future. They are neither good nor evil, they exist to bring balance. For they are the high elders of the Myrsaat”

“The Myrsaat? I’ve never heard of that race before,” replied Aiden.

The three Myrsaat elders had golden flesh and wore golden clothing which was enchanted with mystical properties. Their faces forever hidden behind masks with two small slits that weren’t big enough for anyone to see into their eyes.

“Come,” beckoned the loud booming voice of the leader of the three.
They all moved forward and bowed in front of these mysterious beings.

“These are the three watchers of the Tower. Ryzon the Keeper of Balance, Dekster the Keeper of Records and Ignakion the Keeper of Prophecy,” Mhenlo introduced.

“Rise,” said the three Myrsaat who sat in a commanding position on their golden thrones.

“We have foreseen your coming,” explained Ignakion.

“You come to us in dire times,” Ryzon followed on.

“Aiden, Cynn, Mhenlo and one other who has yet to be found. The four who will bring balance,” Dekster explained.

“Balance? We just want to save our lands!” Aiden burst out. “We need your help to defeat the Charr which are coming to destroy our race.”

“There is nothing for you in Arah,” Ignakion said abruptly. “I have foreseen it. We will not help.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Cynn cried. “We came all this way for your help and now you’re going to just say no?”

“There are far more sinister things in Tyria than the Charr,” explained Ryzon. “That is why you are here.”

“You must go back to Ascalon for now,” said Dekster. “There you will find one more to complete your group. Your group has been prophesized to bring balance to the lands.”

“I don’t care about your prophecy,” Aiden said sternly. “We need the assistance of the Dark Elementalists and they owe mankind a favour for the destruction they’ve caused.”

“The humans brought it upon themselves to be destroyed,” Ignakion said without emotion. “When the gods left Tyria they gave us orders to prevent the destruction of the tower at all costs. We did not seek battle, they came in their fear and their ignorance and we followed the instructions of the gods.”

“That is why we have chosen exile,” said Ryzon. “Now you must go back to Ascalon. There you will find the daughter of a King. With her the four of you will be able to change things.”

“A daughter of a King…” Aiden muttered. “You mean Devona!”
The Myrsaat became silent.

“Tell me,” Little Thom asked with a smirk on his face. “How can four people change the world?”

“The destiny of the world is like a stretched piece of silk suspended in the air,” Dekster explained. “Every soul that dwells in the world is like a tiny pebble that sits on the silk, their weights being able to shift the fabric slightly.”

“However,” began Ignakion. “There are few people whose will is so powerful they are like heavy rocks upon the fabric of destiny. They can distort it with their actions. Cynn, Aiden and Mhenlo, the three of you have major roles to play in the future of Tyria. But with one other you may be able to tip the balance.”

“So we bid you to go. Go back to Ascalon, forget the war in Orr for that destiny has already been forged and cannot be unforged.”

“Go. Seek out the fourth and together you shall become a whole.”

They stared up at the Myrsaat in confusion.

“But what of my training?” Mhenlo asked. “I can’t just leave now.”

“Your training will be complete whether you dwell here or in the wild. That is certain for you are destined for greatness,” said Ryzon. “Go with your new companions and change the world.”

“But remember, once you leave the Tower and the Dead Forest, you may never return. The dark passage will no longer be visible to your eyes. We will wipe your memories of coming here. Once you set foot back in the outside world you will forget all about us and what you have seen here.”

“So once we leave it will be as though we never set foot here?” asked Aiden.

“Not entirely. You will remember only our instructions: Go back to Ascalon and seek out the daughter of the King!”

Frustration filled Aiden’s heart.
In Ascalon, the young lady Devona fought off hordes of Charr in defence of the farmland of her childhood home; meanwhile many thousands of leagues away in Orr a great battle was being fought, a battle to end all battles. But deeper within the walls of Arah, the final hidden threat to mankind which had lingered like a dark cloud had finally decided to surface. And the results of this threat would yield the most dire consequences imaginable.

The Cataclysm of Orr - The Lost Volumes has officially been finished! I've finally written the last chapter and the Epilogue and I have to say I'm very happy with how it's turned out. I almost felt a tear in my eye writing some parts of it (I kid you not). Anyways here's chapter nine, the great battle commences!

Nine

Thunder and fire rained down from the heavens above the skies of Arah like fury from the gods themselves as the flames of war burned below. A vast sea of bodies clashed together like heavy rocks upon earth. On the highest point of the highest tower in Arah a dozen elementalists stood, their staffs raised to the air, fell voices lingering in the wind as they summoned the elements themselves to bring death and destruction to their foes below.
Meanwhile many storeys below on the battlements, catapults fired debris frantically into the sea of Charr spewing dust and bones into the air. A line of archers reinforced the flying chaos by raining down barrages of arrows into the fray maiming and killing all that they touched.
And on the ground itself, thousands upon thousands of feet kicked up dust into the air as blood was shed and lives were lost. Young and old fought alike, some of the young barely in their teens, some of the old too frail to even run.
It was a day that would forever make the lord Balthazar proud.

“Hold the line! Hold the line!” yelled the King as the brave men and women around him fought to keep the oncoming wave of Charr from breaching past them and towards the wall itself.

Arrows flew past his face, his eyes speckled with the blood of his foes, adrenaline pumping through every vein. And in the face of all this death and chaos he stood his ground just like those around him who had sworn their lives to the defence of their homeland. In the corner of his eye he had spotted an incoming arrow which he promptly parried using his great shield, forged by his forefathers while they ruled.

“There’s too many of them! Our healers can’t cope!” yelled the frantic voice of Granice between clangs of metal.

Above on the battlements behind the archers, a handful of monks channelled Dwayna’s energy into patching up deep wounds and stopping heavy bleeding with as much concentration as they could muster. Their brows wet with the sweat which they had worked up.
What had once been a clear blue sky had now become red and dark. The clouds above had changed from a light colour to a dark and almost sinister hue as they rained down meteor debris upon the land.
Dresden made his way through the chaos and confusion of battle knowing that any second may be his last. His line of vision was both blurred and apocalyptic with so many things happening at once he struggled to keep his wits sharp.
His mind guided his hand as two Charr rushed him with their axes, one on either side of him. Swiftly he sidestepped the one on the left and spun around plunging the sword into the back of his opponent and taking it out all in one swift motion. A flash of light occurred as he quickly went into parrying position, the side of his blade deflecting the sharp edge of the axe. For a brief moment he locked gazes with the Charr and the next moment that same face was lying on the ground sliced off from its body.

“Dresden! Fall back! Fall back!” Dorian cried as a heavy axe shattered his shield, splinters flying everywhere. Blood was seeping down from his forehead.

Dresden spat out a mouthful of blood including a tooth as he waded through the destruction to rejoin the line.

“Watchout!” cried a voice from nowhere.

Spinning around he saw a flood of arrows coming towards him and without thinking he raised his shield which took on five of the arrows like a pin cushion. Using his sword he sliced another arrow out of mid-air. He cried in pain as the final arrow struck into his shoulder blade. Taking a deep breath he pulled it out and continued to move.
The Charr had driven the Orrians so far back that by now their backs were touching the wall, their blood to be smeared onto it if the Charr could gain anymore distance.
Dresden strained his way beside Granice to help hold the line as Granice covered him by swinging his mighty hammer in circular motions knocking any approaching Charr to the ground. The loud thud of heavy metal splintering bone could be heard whenever Granice made a swing.
A pile of dead Charr could have almost served as a wall had it been any higher in front of the defenders. Among that pile lay the corpses of women and children who had died to save their land.

“I can’t hold it any longer!” Granice yelled and in that second a Charr axe sliced into his torso bringing him down.

“Granice!” Dresden yelled at the top of his voice as he watched the light fade from his best friend’s eyes. “I will avenge you!” he screamed charging forward moving both swiftly and quickly slicing through flesh and bone like a highly experienced butcher carving through meat.

“Close the line! Close the line!” yelled Dorian as the gap that had opened when Granice died was quickly closed by moving all the soldiers closer together.

Dresden parried and swung in a blind rage not knowing whether he had died or whether he was still alive. His vision was a haze of red and all the soldiers were in awe at his power.
The Charr seemed to back down at the sight of this seemingly indestructible force of nature that was slicing through their flanks. Decapitated heads and limbs flew into the air wherever Dresden went and for a while it seemed as though he were forcing the Charr back single handed.

“Charge!” ordered the King seeing an opportunity to go on the offensive.

And behind Dresden all the rest of the Orrian soldiers surged forwards and began to draw the Charr backwards away from the wall. Screams and shouts went into the air that was now thick with the smell of blood and corpses.
A fresh salvo of sharp arrows rained down upon the Charr cutting many of them up mercilessly. Dresden had revitalised hope within his own ranks once again and Dorian was capitalizing on the new found morale as fast as he could. And in that second a glimmer of belief shined in his eye amid the death. For that second he truly believed that they could actually win.
Today was a day that would be remembered in Tyria for all the ages to come. For it was the greatest battle ever fought and they were heroes.
The blade of Dresden flashed like thunder as it brought death to all who had come to destroy his homeland. And from his power he led all the soldiers of Orr in heart and spirit. But most important of all, he infused within them what they had once never had: Belief.
Meanwhile atop one of the high towers within Arah, Vizier and Malgus watched the battle intently. The intoxicating taste of death was in the air sharpening their control of the dark arts. They could feel death’s energy electrifying the air itself around them. This was a fantastic place to be for a necromancer.

“It is time to lift the shroud of darkness,” Vizier explained. “I’m going to leave this place and head towards the next region of conquest.”

“I know what to do master,” Malgus said with such a sinister look in his eyes that any man with any sanity would have seen his evil intent.
Vizier smiled for now his plan had come to fruition.

“Go. Take the necromancers and lead them to the Inner Sanctum. Once your mission is complete the power of the Charr will be a pittance in comparison to our own,” Vizier’s eyes flashed with greed and malice.

Visions swept through Vizier’s mind. Visions of more death and chaos than thought possible. Like a dark swarm spreading throughout the lands of Tyria, he saw all the world covered in darkness and shadow and awe at the power of the necromancers. And atop a huge pile of skulls he pictured himself sitting upon his thrown, the champion of Grenth; The one who had finally engulfed the work in agony and despair.

“Go now Malgus! Finish it once and for all!” he beckoned.

Amazing stuff. Your a truley talented writer Can't wait for more

plz post at least 1 more chapter today i cant stand reading just a lil bit and then having to stop plz!!!

Ten

A group of ten or so necromancers led by Malgus had infiltrated their way into the Inner Sanctum amid the war outside. It was strange how it was so tranquil so deep underneath the city that the outside war seemed to be just a distraction.
Vizier had explained to Malgus the chants needed to open the seals guarding the Inner Sanctum and Malgus smiled as each gate opened one by one to let him in. He was fast approaching the room with the most powerful artefacts in all of a Tyria. Artefacts so powerful that the gods had forbidden the mortals to ever use them.

“Such a pity,” Malgus snorted as he went in deeper and deeper through the dark corridor.

The Dark Aura guild were now in effect breaking the law of the gods. But Vizier believed that with such power they could counter even the gods retribution. Grenth would probably not react to this however all the other gods would seek great misfortune upon them, particularly Balthazar.
Outside, as the battle raged on, the tide had miraculously turned. The Charr were losing ground, the front lines of their army taking heavy casualties as a man named Dresden sliced and butchered his way to through the hordes followed closely by a long line of Orrian soldiers. The way this battle had turned was unheard of throughout the world.

“Charge on!” King Dorian’s voice screamed bidding his troops to take as much ground as possible and to fight with as much aggressive offence as they could spare.

The elementalists had grown tired by now, their energy depleted as the clouds gave way and the reddish hue that had engulfed the air began to fade. Beams of golden sunlight blasted through the sky shining open the battlefield in a magnificent vigour that seemed to blind the Charr and illuminate the defenders of Orr.
The light was so strong that it penetrated even the dust on the ground below.
With pure sunlight in their eyes and a foe that seemed to believe they were invincible, the Charr made hasty retreats and steadily they were being pushed back across the hill and away from the plain.
Dresden’s rage was so powerful that the pain and weariness in his body could no longer be felt. His eyes were bloodshot with rage, his veins pumping blood at such a rate it was inhuman. Dozens of scars covered his face like decorations on an ancient warrior, his hands heaving with mighty power with each blow he inflicted upon his foes.
King Dorian too could feel the bloodlust, his once polished white armour was now tinged with blood red, sweat gleamed all over his face and his magnificent golden crown stood atop his head like a symbol of power.
The Charr had lost their leader, lost their morale and were being killed at such a rate it seemed that there was nothing else for them to do except retreat.
Never once did Dresden think of the hundred thousand or so Charr he had to kill to win this war, he was living in the present and all that mattered was that he kill as many as he possibly could before he himself was killed. If he was going to die, it sure as hell was going to be a glorious end befitting of the greatest legend.
Time and sound seemed non-existent in the world to Dresden.
Up on the highest tower in Arah, the elementalists had collapsed from exhaustion. The sweat gleaming from their robes seeped onto the cold stone floor they stood upon. But they smiled at the sight of the thin line of defenders drawing back the huge wave of Charr below. It was truly an inspirational sight to view. They thought about the countless paintings that would be dedicated to this event.

“You did good,” Lucius said catching his breath. “You all did very good.”

He sat on the floor of the tower and sighed a long sigh. It seemed then that his dreams of foreboding doom were nothing more than dreams. He rested for he believed the trouble was over.
But it was far from over.
A loud explosion rocked the city gates all of a sudden. Pieces of rocky shrapnel blasted into the air and fell against the buildings of the inner city killing scores of people in a single heart beat. Before Lucius could muster his senses again he heard another explosion. The wall was coming apart.
They all stood up and peered down and to their shock they saw the necromancers standing inside throwing spells and hexes all over the place murdering the citizens of Orr.

“Traitors!” he screamed, his voice travelled across the entire kingdom like a death wail.

Looking even more closely he realized that they all held artefacts of power. And then it dawned on him what had really occurred. The Inner Sanctum had been robbed.
Wearily, the elementalists stood back up and began hurtling fire and lightning at the necromancers on the streets below.
Lucius wasted no time at all. Hurriedly, he began to run as fast as he could descending down the tower, his feet taking him down the many steps as fast as he could run.
Lower and lower he went past the observatory, past the great library, through the King’s dining hall and still he ran. He reached the city streets of Arah were the smell of death and decay was emanating everywhere. Civilians lay dead or dying in the streets as dozens of necromancers went around killing the very old and the very young. There was no resistance within as all who were capable of fighting were outside fighting the Charr.

“Malgus!” he screamed in pure rage.

Standing atop a burning bath house and amidst the flames stood the tall imposing figure of Malgus, clad in pitch black armor, his skin pale as the moonlight. In his hands he held a set of bones that he had stolen from the Inner Sanctum. Those bones were believed to have belonged to a powerful necromancer who had cursed an entire region of land in his last dying breath. The power of that necromancer was infused within those bones for all time.

“Lucius my dear friend!” he bellowed sarcastically. “What brings you here?”

“You’ve betrayed us!” Lucius accused him.

“I’ve longed for the day when the two of us would fight in open combat,” Malgus said as they locked gazes.

There was a moment’s pause until suddenly Malgus fired a dark sinister swarm of what seemed like pure chill towards Lucius. The cold chill projectile struck Lucius straight in the chest knocking the wind and energy out of him and leaving him panting.
Lucius summoned a prayer to Dwayna and was relieved to find this chill had left him momentarily as he got back up and said a powerful incantation.

“By the powers of Balthazar I smite thee with all my spirit!” he cried as a bright beam of light shot out of the sky striking Malgus into a contorted pose of agony.

“It burns!” the necromancer cried.

After the unholy light subsided Malgus moved himself back into standing position clearly in pain. He gazed Lucius directly in the eye and chanted some forbidden words. Immediately Lucius could feel his life force being sucked out of him and although he tried, he could not look away from those deathly white eyes.

“Die old man!” Malgus taunted with a anguished expression on his face as he sapped as much life force as he possibly could.

Finally Lucius felt close to death and collapsed, his breathing laboured and his body heavy.

“It is over Lucius,” said Malgus in a supreme tone of arrogancy and fierce intelligence. “It is over.”

Without another moment, Malgus left him by himself as the city of Arah was no longer what it once was.
With his last dying breath Lucius called forth his final prayer to Dwayna.

“May the light of Dwayna reward me in my moment of need,” he struggled to whisper as he looked up at the heavens. “Bless me with divine intervention!”

And suddenly he felt his breath steadily begin to return to his lungs.
Picking himself off the ground, he quickly made his way to the secret entrance to the Inner Sanctum for there was one last thing left for him to do.
Without pause, he broke through all the sacred seals which guarded the Inner Sanctum and finally he found his way in.
At the very back of the room, beyond the shelves and hidden behind what appeared to be a dead end wall was a secret room that only one person in the entire world knew about.
Lucius’ ancestors had passed the secret of this room from generation to generation as they served the kings of Orr. But never in his lifetime did Lucius believe he would ever need to use this knowledge.
Saying the final chants, the magical seal came undone and the wall turned into a door. Opening the door revealed a small room with inscriptions all over the walls. This was the first time Lucius had ever seen this room.
The inscriptions read in an ancient dialect:

Here lies the Scroll of Balthazar, the Guardian of the Artefacts. This Scroll may only be used in the direst times, when the Artefacts of Power have been stolen by those who seek to use their powers of destruction to enslave the world. Be warned that the scroll may only be used once and the consequences may never be reversed.

Whatever the consequences were, Lucius was prepared to pay them. All around him his city was being destroyed, the Charr were coming and the artefacts had been stolen. He had witnessed the death of innocent civilians and his heart wept with agony.
Tears fell out of his eyes as he took hold of the Scroll of Balthazar, the most powerful of the Artefacts of Power, and he began to chant the words written on that scroll.
The next moment there was a blinding light and he gazed upon the beautiful face of Dwayna as all the pain and suffering left his being.
Outside the battle raged on when suddenly the King’s palace and all its surrounding buildings collapsed. The earth began to shake violently kicking more dust into the air. The tremors became so violent that nobody on either side of the conflict could stand.
All fighting temporarily stopped as they all gazed towards the Orrian capitol of Arah.
From the collapsed rubble of the King’s palace a giant white sphere of pure energy rose out of the ground. It rose higher and higher until it stood suspended in mid air, the tremors stopping as it did.
The sphere looked like a perfectly circular orb of light and at the same time it was surreal, unlike anything that could ever exist.
Everyone gazed at the white floating sphere in mass confusion as it buzzed. The humming of its power could be heard far across the battle field. The sight was so bizarre many believed they had to be dreaming.
And it was then that Dresden knew what was to happen simply out of intuition.
He dropped to his knees on the battlefield, all hope vanished within an instant. And he wept. He wept like he had never wept before. He wept uncontrollably with such sorrow never seen before on a battlefield.
It was over. The Cataclysm had begun.

awesome i cant wait for the next chapter =D

Eleven

Excerpt from Book I: The Lore of Guildwars –
There are few who survived that day, now known as the Catacylsm. While the Charr were never allowed to set foot in Arah, few count what the King’s advisor did on that day as a victory. The resulting explosion felled the invading army where it stood, but so too did it sink the entire peninsula, leaving only a scattering of small islands in its place. The beautiful city of Arah was consumed. What’s left above water now lies in a pile of ruins blackened by the Cataclysm and years of neglect. All the remains of Orr are the wandering dead – those souls unable to rest in the shadows of this great disaster.
-

Two Dark Elementalists escorted Aiden’s party out of the mountain side where the entrance of the Point of No Return lay and bid them farewell. They looked back at the dark entrance as it vanished and was camouflaged by a powerful ward to look like part of the mountain.

“Well I guess it’s over. We’ve failed,” he sighed.

“Don’t say that,” Cynn said placing a hand on his shoulder. “We still have the friendship of our companions.”

She looked around at Aiden, Little Thom, Mhenlo and of course her horse Chestnut.

“And if what they say about destiny is true,” Mhenlo began, a renewed hope in his eyes. “Then perhaps we will someday defeat the Charr.”

“That would still be a long way away,” sighed Aiden.

“You know, with all that’s bad in the world, I still think there are more adventures to look forward to,” said Little Thom. “You know that feeling? Like there’s a long road up ahead and many things will happen for the better.”

Aiden sighed. He thought back to when he was a little boy back when he went out into the wild with his father to hunt wolves. One time the weather had gotten so bad that rain and thunder were pouring down and he didn’t think they’d make it back to the farm alive. But they did and after that there was a beautiful rainbow and his father told him how proud he was that day.
A tear almost fell across his cheek.
They all looked at each other with a feeling of companionship. Then without warning they all felt dazed. Aiden blinked twice and looked around again. This time he wondered where they were.

“How did we get here?” he asked.

The others looked at him with equal confusion.

“I have no idea. I feel like I just woke up from a long dream,” replied Mhenlo.

“Whatever happened I feel we should go back to Ascalon. There’s someone there that I think can help us,” Aiden said as they quickly got their gear prepared and began to march off into the distant sunset on the horizon.

Chestnut snorted a little laugh and decided it was a good thing he hadn’t decided to enter that large tower with the rest of them.
While far away, in the kingdom of Orr there was silence. The war had died down along with the lives of tens of thousands of people, all consumed by the blinding light that had been emitted from the orb once it had opened. They say that as far as Ascalon, the lights to the south could be seen signalling a terrible destruction. It is said that the tears of Dwayna dropped out of the sky on that day.
As for the Charr, the twenty thousand or so that fought on the plains before Arah that day all perished. A new leader was elected by the vast remainder of their army which had now been weakened and forced to slow down. But as all things pass, they set their sights towards the kingdom of Kryta and marched on.
For Malgus however, he and all the members of the Dark Aura guild perished that day, taking the Artefacts of Power with them to the grave. All perished save one, the Lich known as Vizier who had fled before the Cataclysm. In older times he had been known as Vizier the Deceiver and his role in the future of Tyria was still yet to be revealed.
Aiden and his companions travelled on towards Ascalon without any memory of having been to the tower or meeting the Myrsaat for their memories had been wiped. For them, the story had just begun.
The Charr had suffered a major defeat at gates of Arah however they still had most of their army.
A dark shadow loomed over Kryta as an uncertain future plagued its citizens.

Epilogue

At the very top of the Dark Elementalist Tower as it were known to the humans, the high elder Myrsaat Dekster sat in the Chamber of Mirrors. For he was the Keeper of Records and in the many chambers below were libraries he had written chronicling the beginning of the world right up until the end of it.
The Chamber of Mirrors was surrounded by mirrors which circled around the walls, each one served as a looking glass to lands afar. From these mirrors he could see wars being fought on distant continents, sinister beings at work planning the destruction of others, deeds of goodwill and every such thing he wished to see. These were his instruments with which he made his records.
Far across the sea in the lands of the Zaishen, the emperor’s bodyguard had been sentenced to death. Towards Kryta he could see defences being prepared for another oncoming war. And in the burning rubble far away he could see a little girl named Gwen hungry and starving and fleeing for her life without food or sleep. Her only friend was her flute which she had affectionately named.
Finally he reached over to a bookshelf and took out an unfinished tome. Using a feather and some ink he scrawled into the book the final words.

“And with the destruction of Orr and its outlying lands, so ends another chapter of the Lost Volumes,” he wrote feeling glad he had finally completed another book in the volume.

He placed this book back on the shelf among the other hundreds of books within the Lost Volumes series.
Dekster took off his golden Myrsaat mask and rubbed his tired old eyes. It seemed to him that mankind had lost hope. If only they knew what was to come, he smiled.
Meanwhile far, far away Saul D’Alessio rode on his horse through the wilderness blindfolded and with his hands tied back. He had ridden five days non-stop and was dying of starvation and thirst. How badly he had wished it would rain so he could get his next drink.
Saul D’Alessio had been a drunken gambler and thief and had been exiled from the Kingdom of Kryta just days before for theft.

“Bah! The whole world is a joke,” he spat.

After all this time alone he had grown accustomed to talking to himself.

“I hate Kryta. I hate Ascalon. I hate all the human kingdoms! They’re all a bunch of fools!”

But most of all he hated himself. He hated what he had become. He was a nowhere man. He had nothing to live for and stole the petty scraps of others to survive. All his money had been washed down the drain through his alcohol consumption and he felt he had almost lost his will to live.
But little did he know that one day he would become the saviour of mankind.
Up in the Dark Elementalist Tower, the Keeper of Records took out a blank tome and with an ink feather he wrote the title: The Trials of Saul D’Alessio, Saviour of the Human Kingdoms…

Well thats the end of the Catacylsm of Orr - The Lost Volumes. Hoped everyone enjoyed it. Please post any feedback you have or any constructive criticisms and thanks to everybody for the support.

Great writing! You certainly have a lot of talent. Would like to read more of your stories.

thats kind of mean. You leabe us with a cliffhanger like that, are you going to write the rest of the lost tomes?
































Just kidding, they were great. If I haven't already I sign for a sticky.

I might write another Lost Volumes story about how Saul D'Alessio finally defeats the Charr and about Aiden and his friends defending Kryta. Depends on how many chapters it will be tho coz I got work and university to do.

Very great stuff. I'd love to see you write more