Trials of Saul - The Lost Volumes
storm of daeth
awesome chapter i hope you write more today i need my fix
Goats17
As do we all.
storm of daeth
where are you i need my fix *cryes*
d3kst3r
Gah! I'll write some in about 4 hours once I get off work.
d3kst3r
Nine
The next morning was an early start of Saul. The sun once again rose up into the sky above the City of Gold, the secret civilization of the Mursaat, guarded against human intrusion by powerful magic wards similar to those used to hide the valley that contained the hidden tower. But that was yet another story.
The previous night he had been given fruits and meats by the Mursaat, barely cooked as though the mysterious beings had little knowledge of what humans enjoyed eating. Perhaps they simply didn’t care for good tastes.
Whatever, thought Saul as he made his way back to the main square of the city wearing his pure white cloths that never seemed to get dirty. Saul was suspecting that they were enchanted by some sort of spell.
Ryzon was already there and appeared to be teaching some younger Mursaat lessons about philosophy in a language that was alien to him. Upon sensing Saul, Ryzon dismissed his students and turned to him.
“Today we go back to the Grawl infested forest,” he said. “And this time I will teach you to fight.”
Ryzon led him back to the dark forest where he had previously learnt Distortion. Saul had spent the night practicing it until he fell asleep and by now felt as though he could summon it in an instant and keep it on him for long periods of time.
“Now I will give you your weapon,” Ryzon said handing him a broken branch that had fallen from a tree.
“Ok… Is this some sort of joke?” Saul said finding it slightly amusing. “I am to go around killing Grawl using… a branch.”
“We Mursaat never joke,” replied Ryzon.
“Must be a boring race…” commented Saul before Ryzon snapped him out of it with a serious look.
Saul took the branch and held it in his hands. There was nothing odd about it. It was heavy, stupidly shaped even to use as a club and seemed to have been blasted off a tree by a thunder bolt.
“You perceive this as a branch,” began Ryzon. “However a true perception of it would be an ancient stick of wood grown through sunlight and soil, through the never ending toil of the tree from whence it came. It once contained life and was formed by the tree using energy.”
“Yes… In other words it’s a branch,” Saul said cheekily.
“I am not in the mood for stupidity!” Ryzon’s eyes suddenly glowed a deadly shade of red. After a while Ryzon returned his composure and continued the lesson. “Take a good look at the branch and picture it in your mind. Try to feel every single piece of wood, every mark, every scar in your mind.”
Saul decided to give it a go and had quickly formed a quick image of the branch in his mind. And he began to notice much much more. He felt the hollow areas within that insects had once called their home, the buzzing of life that had once flowed through it, the combination of air and water that was used to forge it.
“Now imagine that it is a part of your body. That it is one of your limbs.”
Saul did so and he began to feel… a weird sensation of the branch and how much more stronger than it was than his own flesh.
“Now use the branch. Make it a weapon, a deadly sword so powerful that it can cut through flesh like a hot knife through butter.”
Saul focused hard and the image of the branch in his mind slowly morphed into a black sword covered in spikes and decorated with the skulls of people it had killed. A sword like that could never exist in real life he knew, however in his mind he was the most frightening weapon he had ever conceived. And in his hand, the branch seemed to glow purple.
“There is a band of Grawl living nearby in an encampment. They are the same creatures who slaughtered the one who redeemed your soul.”
Saul understood exactly what had to be done. Wielding his mighty branch he wandered through the shrubs leaving Ryzon far behind. This was his fight.
He walked for what seemed like twenty minutes through dense foliage ignoring the insects buzzing around him and the madness of the jungle that threatened to engulf him. He ignored the voices of the dead accusing him in his mind and the feelings of guilt that had plagued him much of his life. Each step he took he seemed to feel closer to taking vengeance.
And soon he had arrived. Behind a log he peered out and saw a band of a dozen or so Grawl camping in a clearing. They sat on logs and cooked flesh around a fire, the sickening smell made him believe it was human flesh.
“Gran,” he muttered and suddenly rage flared through his being bursting to escape and cause havoc to everything he could find.
The branch had morphed back into a branch as soon as his thoughts shifted to that of rage. Trying as hard as he could, he attempted to morph the branch back into the sword in his mind but however he tried he couldn’t.
“Release your anger and you will be able to wield your power,” the voice of Ryzon buzzed through his mind.
But how could he? These Grawl had killed the one he had cared for and possibly were consuming her right as he watched. His face was red and he wanted nothing more than to kill them all. But at the back of his mind he believed it was foolishness. It would take at least a dozen or so armed men to fight this band of Grawl. One man charging into their camp armed with a branch was a spectacular way to commit suicide. This was madness.
“Use the power within you,” Ryzon’s voice came back to his mind.
Saul took a deep breath and gradually shrugged off all his emotions. He slowed his heart rate back down to normal and felt as cool as ice. No emotion, no thought, only action.
Calmly, he morphed the branch back into the sword that was in his mind and then embraced the darkness causing his own being to split into dozens shifted around him like a crowd of dreams. And then he charged.
He felt no fear as the Grawl spotted him, some of them knocked arrows into their bows and fired. All the arrows seemed to pass right through his body without touching it and slammed into the foliage behind him. He felt no surprise at the fact he was completely unwounded as a second barrage of arrows went through him. In his hand he carried the branch that was both heavy and difficult to manoeuvre. But the Grawl reeled back in absolute terror for they saw with their own eyes a sword so frightening only a demon could have had the courage to wield it.
And the blow come down. Although the branch missed the first Grawl narrowly, a deep wound appeared across its chest and spat out blood. Saul swung again and beheaded the creature using the branch as though it were the sharpest sword in the world, and all of this without even touching the creature physically.
The others drew their swords and attacked him and just like the arrows, the swords passed right through him without causing harm.
His mind cool as ice and his emotions none-existent, he sliced them up like a butcher carving his meat. And then it was over as quickly as it had started.
Saul stood over the carcasses of over a dozen Grawl, a feat that no man could have ever replicated. The blood stains disappeared as soon as they fell on his enchanted white clothing which shone brightly in the light like an angel of death.
He dropped the branch and fell to his knees looking at his own hands and what he had just done.
“By the light of Dwayna!” he cried as emotion returned to him.
Behind him came Ryzon, briefly smiling at what Saul had achieved in such a short amount of time.
“I have just taught you the power of Illusionary Weaponry,” he said. “But there is one last trial for you before your training is complete.”
Saul just stared at himself in utter confusion and disbelief.
The next morning was an early start of Saul. The sun once again rose up into the sky above the City of Gold, the secret civilization of the Mursaat, guarded against human intrusion by powerful magic wards similar to those used to hide the valley that contained the hidden tower. But that was yet another story.
The previous night he had been given fruits and meats by the Mursaat, barely cooked as though the mysterious beings had little knowledge of what humans enjoyed eating. Perhaps they simply didn’t care for good tastes.
Whatever, thought Saul as he made his way back to the main square of the city wearing his pure white cloths that never seemed to get dirty. Saul was suspecting that they were enchanted by some sort of spell.
Ryzon was already there and appeared to be teaching some younger Mursaat lessons about philosophy in a language that was alien to him. Upon sensing Saul, Ryzon dismissed his students and turned to him.
“Today we go back to the Grawl infested forest,” he said. “And this time I will teach you to fight.”
Ryzon led him back to the dark forest where he had previously learnt Distortion. Saul had spent the night practicing it until he fell asleep and by now felt as though he could summon it in an instant and keep it on him for long periods of time.
“Now I will give you your weapon,” Ryzon said handing him a broken branch that had fallen from a tree.
“Ok… Is this some sort of joke?” Saul said finding it slightly amusing. “I am to go around killing Grawl using… a branch.”
“We Mursaat never joke,” replied Ryzon.
“Must be a boring race…” commented Saul before Ryzon snapped him out of it with a serious look.
Saul took the branch and held it in his hands. There was nothing odd about it. It was heavy, stupidly shaped even to use as a club and seemed to have been blasted off a tree by a thunder bolt.
“You perceive this as a branch,” began Ryzon. “However a true perception of it would be an ancient stick of wood grown through sunlight and soil, through the never ending toil of the tree from whence it came. It once contained life and was formed by the tree using energy.”
“Yes… In other words it’s a branch,” Saul said cheekily.
“I am not in the mood for stupidity!” Ryzon’s eyes suddenly glowed a deadly shade of red. After a while Ryzon returned his composure and continued the lesson. “Take a good look at the branch and picture it in your mind. Try to feel every single piece of wood, every mark, every scar in your mind.”
Saul decided to give it a go and had quickly formed a quick image of the branch in his mind. And he began to notice much much more. He felt the hollow areas within that insects had once called their home, the buzzing of life that had once flowed through it, the combination of air and water that was used to forge it.
“Now imagine that it is a part of your body. That it is one of your limbs.”
Saul did so and he began to feel… a weird sensation of the branch and how much more stronger than it was than his own flesh.
“Now use the branch. Make it a weapon, a deadly sword so powerful that it can cut through flesh like a hot knife through butter.”
Saul focused hard and the image of the branch in his mind slowly morphed into a black sword covered in spikes and decorated with the skulls of people it had killed. A sword like that could never exist in real life he knew, however in his mind he was the most frightening weapon he had ever conceived. And in his hand, the branch seemed to glow purple.
“There is a band of Grawl living nearby in an encampment. They are the same creatures who slaughtered the one who redeemed your soul.”
Saul understood exactly what had to be done. Wielding his mighty branch he wandered through the shrubs leaving Ryzon far behind. This was his fight.
He walked for what seemed like twenty minutes through dense foliage ignoring the insects buzzing around him and the madness of the jungle that threatened to engulf him. He ignored the voices of the dead accusing him in his mind and the feelings of guilt that had plagued him much of his life. Each step he took he seemed to feel closer to taking vengeance.
And soon he had arrived. Behind a log he peered out and saw a band of a dozen or so Grawl camping in a clearing. They sat on logs and cooked flesh around a fire, the sickening smell made him believe it was human flesh.
“Gran,” he muttered and suddenly rage flared through his being bursting to escape and cause havoc to everything he could find.
The branch had morphed back into a branch as soon as his thoughts shifted to that of rage. Trying as hard as he could, he attempted to morph the branch back into the sword in his mind but however he tried he couldn’t.
“Release your anger and you will be able to wield your power,” the voice of Ryzon buzzed through his mind.
But how could he? These Grawl had killed the one he had cared for and possibly were consuming her right as he watched. His face was red and he wanted nothing more than to kill them all. But at the back of his mind he believed it was foolishness. It would take at least a dozen or so armed men to fight this band of Grawl. One man charging into their camp armed with a branch was a spectacular way to commit suicide. This was madness.
“Use the power within you,” Ryzon’s voice came back to his mind.
Saul took a deep breath and gradually shrugged off all his emotions. He slowed his heart rate back down to normal and felt as cool as ice. No emotion, no thought, only action.
Calmly, he morphed the branch back into the sword that was in his mind and then embraced the darkness causing his own being to split into dozens shifted around him like a crowd of dreams. And then he charged.
He felt no fear as the Grawl spotted him, some of them knocked arrows into their bows and fired. All the arrows seemed to pass right through his body without touching it and slammed into the foliage behind him. He felt no surprise at the fact he was completely unwounded as a second barrage of arrows went through him. In his hand he carried the branch that was both heavy and difficult to manoeuvre. But the Grawl reeled back in absolute terror for they saw with their own eyes a sword so frightening only a demon could have had the courage to wield it.
And the blow come down. Although the branch missed the first Grawl narrowly, a deep wound appeared across its chest and spat out blood. Saul swung again and beheaded the creature using the branch as though it were the sharpest sword in the world, and all of this without even touching the creature physically.
The others drew their swords and attacked him and just like the arrows, the swords passed right through him without causing harm.
His mind cool as ice and his emotions none-existent, he sliced them up like a butcher carving his meat. And then it was over as quickly as it had started.
Saul stood over the carcasses of over a dozen Grawl, a feat that no man could have ever replicated. The blood stains disappeared as soon as they fell on his enchanted white clothing which shone brightly in the light like an angel of death.
He dropped the branch and fell to his knees looking at his own hands and what he had just done.
“By the light of Dwayna!” he cried as emotion returned to him.
Behind him came Ryzon, briefly smiling at what Saul had achieved in such a short amount of time.
“I have just taught you the power of Illusionary Weaponry,” he said. “But there is one last trial for you before your training is complete.”
Saul just stared at himself in utter confusion and disbelief.
Goats17
YAY, we have our fix now! ^_^
d3kst3r
Ten
“Charge!” yelled Sergio as his company of two hundred soldiers rushed into the clearing amidst the burning village huts and the sight of dead Krytan farmers littering the grasslands.
They surged forward like a red wave against the crash of Charr. The Charr had not expected such a sudden charge and as such, their line was broken as steel clashed with steel and often flesh as well.
Devona’s mighty hammer crashed through Charr armour with such force and brutality that the nearby Charr reeled back at the sight of it. Several arrows struck hard points of her own armour and were deflected off as she stormed through the creatures leading the charge. Beside her Sergio was slicing through the foul creatures with Frostfell in hand and a berserker range in his heart. But for every Charr they slew, two more would spring up to replace it. An axe sliced deep into Devona’s armour catching her temporarily off guard as she took several steps back and the line began to fall.
“Fall back! To the trees!” screamed Sergio to the men around him and the message was quickly passed throughout the line as a hasty retreat was made.
Sergio hated making retreats, there was always a price in the lives of his soldiers to be paid whenever they did.
They ran at full bolt until they reached back into the dense forest areas, the Charr ceasing their plundering and arson to pursue them.
“Back! Back! To the trees!” yelled the defenders of Kryta as the arrows struck them in the back bringing a dozen of them down before they had reached the safety of the woods.
The Charr followed running like wild horses with a taste for human flesh ready to take them on in the darkness of the woods.
High up in the trees, Aidan and his company of rangers sat with their bows knocked and their figures hidden by leaves. They waited until the Charr were in range.
“Barrage!” he called as all the archers rained arrows down upon their foes sticking into their flesh like pins in a pincushion.
Several of the Charr fell and slowly bled to death while the more resilient of them hobbled on towards the trees despite the dozen or so arrows embedded within them.
“Stupid but strong,” Aidan muttered to himself and fired another barrage into the survivors.
More of the Charr fell and there were only a handful left. Even despite this, they continued on towards the forest lumbering on like behemoths.
Cynn stood up from her hiding place and took the threads of fire and air using elemental power and threaded them into a devastating fireball which flew out from her hands and burnt one of the Charr into a statue of ash where he stood. Even from the trees, Aidan and his company could feel the heat wave that resonated from this fireball.
Sergio lunged forward and finished off what was left of the Charr, wiped his sword on one of them and sheathed it casually.
Devona sat down on a log clenching her teeth to take the attention away from the pain in her leg.
“Sit still,” Mhenlo told her and embraced the power of Dwayna as a warm light shone out of his palms. The light seeped into her wounds and slowly it seemed every fibre of broken muscle and flesh began to weave itself back together again until it was fully mended. “There, all better.”
He stood up and went to tend to the other wounded men.
“I have to say, monks are pretty amazing,” Cynn smiled as she sat next to Devona.
“Yeah so long as I don’t get my head sliced off he can patch it up,” Devona replied still nursing her newly repaired wound.
Aidan climbed down from a tree and gaze all the men under his command a nod of approval for their bravery. Despite his very young age, Sergio had seen some sort of wisdom in him and had decided that he should lead the rangers in battle. But the actual truth was that Sergio had known his father from an older time and had known of the skill he possessed. This fact he had never mentioned to Aidan due to a personal reason.
“Just as I feared,” Sergio said with a tinge of regret in his voice as he wandered back from the burning village. “No survivors. We’ve arrived too late.”
“We have avenged those who were killed by the Charr,” Aidan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be content that Elyssa will take them into the soil and the circle will repeat.”
The circle that Aidan spoke about was something his father had taught him. The Circle of Life, the Will of Elyssa. That all things die and revert back into the soil to replenish the next of nature’s creations.
“Aye but what we faced here was merely a small fraction of the main Charr army. This small group was sent to destroy a small village and believed they would come here uncontested. We’ve had a victory here yes, but we have in no way won the war,” said Sergio with an air of wisdom about him. “I must ride back to the encampment to deliver my report to Lord Malan. Take care of my troops while I’m away Aidan.”
The two men nodded at each other and then Sergio mounted his horse and rode off into the darkness of the night forest alone and unguarded.
“He is a good man,” said Aidan with a weariness beyond his age. “But there are not enough like him. The future looks bleak for Kryta. You know that after this we may not be able to return to Ascalon.”
Aidan was implying that they would die in war against the Charr but he dared not say it directly. Thoughts of the Charr sweeping across Tyria dominating all human life in its path was too dire for him to contemplate for long periods of time.
“It is better to meet them in battle then wait for them to hunt us down in our old age,” Devona replied with a tone of defiance. “And I will make sure they remember what we stand for.”
Aidan smiled. In his heart he knew that his friends would be with him no matter how hopeless the situation was. They would follow him to face death itself.
In the darkness of night, Sergio rode lightly and unaccompanied. He preferred to travel alone, anyone else would only slow him down. The main encampment was just a few miles away and was set up as a brief staging point for operations to counter any stray Charr bands that roamed around destroying small villages. Each day generals from each company would report back to the encampment to deliver their reports and to make plans.
Around fifty or so tents were pitched near a wide river which was difficult to cross and made a good defence point against the Charr. Hundreds of Krytan soldiers stood guard every hour of the day and night and nearby several hundred more scouted the lands around to make sure they could not be ambushed. Even despite these numbers they knew they would have to face the Charr with a force of around one hundred thousand.
Sergio sent his horse nearby to graze and approached the large red tent guarded by two elite defenders. That was Lord Malan’s tent.
“Sergio what have you to report?” Malan asked as he entered without greeting him.
“The nearby village of Bren was destroyed before we were able to arrive. However we have defeated the Charr there,” he replied.
“Sit down,” Malan told him casually as he sat on a wooden chair nearby. Under the candlelight Malan’s features were dark and unruly. “There is a Seaboard village,” he began. “It is vital to our operations in the southern provinces.”
“My lord, the Seaboard is completely overrun by Charr. Any attempt to retake it is suicide. They have placed their main encampment in that area.”
“There is a town in the Seaboard that is vital to me. You must retake Orden from the clutches of the Charr.”
“My lord…” Sergio’s voice was aghast with disbelief. “To send my men there is to send them to their deaths.”
Malan smiled and patted Sergio on the shoulder.
“Sergio my friend… We’ve known each other for a long time. You are my greatest general and I have all my faith in you,” he said. “Now lead your company there. Once you have taken it I shall move my encampment there and draw the Charr back out of Kryta.”
Sergio shook his head.
“That is a direct order. I can’t have my own men disobey me in a time of war. You will follow it or you will no longer be considered a Krytan,” Malan’s eyes were deadly cold now.
With guilt wracking his mind, he stepped out of the tent and felt the coldness of the night air.
The next morning they would march to Orden.
“Charge!” yelled Sergio as his company of two hundred soldiers rushed into the clearing amidst the burning village huts and the sight of dead Krytan farmers littering the grasslands.
They surged forward like a red wave against the crash of Charr. The Charr had not expected such a sudden charge and as such, their line was broken as steel clashed with steel and often flesh as well.
Devona’s mighty hammer crashed through Charr armour with such force and brutality that the nearby Charr reeled back at the sight of it. Several arrows struck hard points of her own armour and were deflected off as she stormed through the creatures leading the charge. Beside her Sergio was slicing through the foul creatures with Frostfell in hand and a berserker range in his heart. But for every Charr they slew, two more would spring up to replace it. An axe sliced deep into Devona’s armour catching her temporarily off guard as she took several steps back and the line began to fall.
“Fall back! To the trees!” screamed Sergio to the men around him and the message was quickly passed throughout the line as a hasty retreat was made.
Sergio hated making retreats, there was always a price in the lives of his soldiers to be paid whenever they did.
They ran at full bolt until they reached back into the dense forest areas, the Charr ceasing their plundering and arson to pursue them.
“Back! Back! To the trees!” yelled the defenders of Kryta as the arrows struck them in the back bringing a dozen of them down before they had reached the safety of the woods.
The Charr followed running like wild horses with a taste for human flesh ready to take them on in the darkness of the woods.
High up in the trees, Aidan and his company of rangers sat with their bows knocked and their figures hidden by leaves. They waited until the Charr were in range.
“Barrage!” he called as all the archers rained arrows down upon their foes sticking into their flesh like pins in a pincushion.
Several of the Charr fell and slowly bled to death while the more resilient of them hobbled on towards the trees despite the dozen or so arrows embedded within them.
“Stupid but strong,” Aidan muttered to himself and fired another barrage into the survivors.
More of the Charr fell and there were only a handful left. Even despite this, they continued on towards the forest lumbering on like behemoths.
Cynn stood up from her hiding place and took the threads of fire and air using elemental power and threaded them into a devastating fireball which flew out from her hands and burnt one of the Charr into a statue of ash where he stood. Even from the trees, Aidan and his company could feel the heat wave that resonated from this fireball.
Sergio lunged forward and finished off what was left of the Charr, wiped his sword on one of them and sheathed it casually.
Devona sat down on a log clenching her teeth to take the attention away from the pain in her leg.
“Sit still,” Mhenlo told her and embraced the power of Dwayna as a warm light shone out of his palms. The light seeped into her wounds and slowly it seemed every fibre of broken muscle and flesh began to weave itself back together again until it was fully mended. “There, all better.”
He stood up and went to tend to the other wounded men.
“I have to say, monks are pretty amazing,” Cynn smiled as she sat next to Devona.
“Yeah so long as I don’t get my head sliced off he can patch it up,” Devona replied still nursing her newly repaired wound.
Aidan climbed down from a tree and gaze all the men under his command a nod of approval for their bravery. Despite his very young age, Sergio had seen some sort of wisdom in him and had decided that he should lead the rangers in battle. But the actual truth was that Sergio had known his father from an older time and had known of the skill he possessed. This fact he had never mentioned to Aidan due to a personal reason.
“Just as I feared,” Sergio said with a tinge of regret in his voice as he wandered back from the burning village. “No survivors. We’ve arrived too late.”
“We have avenged those who were killed by the Charr,” Aidan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be content that Elyssa will take them into the soil and the circle will repeat.”
The circle that Aidan spoke about was something his father had taught him. The Circle of Life, the Will of Elyssa. That all things die and revert back into the soil to replenish the next of nature’s creations.
“Aye but what we faced here was merely a small fraction of the main Charr army. This small group was sent to destroy a small village and believed they would come here uncontested. We’ve had a victory here yes, but we have in no way won the war,” said Sergio with an air of wisdom about him. “I must ride back to the encampment to deliver my report to Lord Malan. Take care of my troops while I’m away Aidan.”
The two men nodded at each other and then Sergio mounted his horse and rode off into the darkness of the night forest alone and unguarded.
“He is a good man,” said Aidan with a weariness beyond his age. “But there are not enough like him. The future looks bleak for Kryta. You know that after this we may not be able to return to Ascalon.”
Aidan was implying that they would die in war against the Charr but he dared not say it directly. Thoughts of the Charr sweeping across Tyria dominating all human life in its path was too dire for him to contemplate for long periods of time.
“It is better to meet them in battle then wait for them to hunt us down in our old age,” Devona replied with a tone of defiance. “And I will make sure they remember what we stand for.”
Aidan smiled. In his heart he knew that his friends would be with him no matter how hopeless the situation was. They would follow him to face death itself.
In the darkness of night, Sergio rode lightly and unaccompanied. He preferred to travel alone, anyone else would only slow him down. The main encampment was just a few miles away and was set up as a brief staging point for operations to counter any stray Charr bands that roamed around destroying small villages. Each day generals from each company would report back to the encampment to deliver their reports and to make plans.
Around fifty or so tents were pitched near a wide river which was difficult to cross and made a good defence point against the Charr. Hundreds of Krytan soldiers stood guard every hour of the day and night and nearby several hundred more scouted the lands around to make sure they could not be ambushed. Even despite these numbers they knew they would have to face the Charr with a force of around one hundred thousand.
Sergio sent his horse nearby to graze and approached the large red tent guarded by two elite defenders. That was Lord Malan’s tent.
“Sergio what have you to report?” Malan asked as he entered without greeting him.
“The nearby village of Bren was destroyed before we were able to arrive. However we have defeated the Charr there,” he replied.
“Sit down,” Malan told him casually as he sat on a wooden chair nearby. Under the candlelight Malan’s features were dark and unruly. “There is a Seaboard village,” he began. “It is vital to our operations in the southern provinces.”
“My lord, the Seaboard is completely overrun by Charr. Any attempt to retake it is suicide. They have placed their main encampment in that area.”
“There is a town in the Seaboard that is vital to me. You must retake Orden from the clutches of the Charr.”
“My lord…” Sergio’s voice was aghast with disbelief. “To send my men there is to send them to their deaths.”
Malan smiled and patted Sergio on the shoulder.
“Sergio my friend… We’ve known each other for a long time. You are my greatest general and I have all my faith in you,” he said. “Now lead your company there. Once you have taken it I shall move my encampment there and draw the Charr back out of Kryta.”
Sergio shook his head.
“That is a direct order. I can’t have my own men disobey me in a time of war. You will follow it or you will no longer be considered a Krytan,” Malan’s eyes were deadly cold now.
With guilt wracking his mind, he stepped out of the tent and felt the coldness of the night air.
The next morning they would march to Orden.
Goats17
O good. More. I'm just wondering, when is your book coming out. Get permission from A-Net and publish a book with a bunch of Lost Volumes in them. It would take a while, but you wouldn't have to post them on the Guru. I would buy it eve if it just had these two stories in it.
d3kst3r
I feel the stories I'm currenly writing aren't really fleshed out very much, eg. they're more like short stories than novels. A true novel would take me months to complete with me writing every single day and making lots of revisions. So far with these stories each chapter has only taken an hour to write and I've made no revisions at all.
Eleven
“There lies the cave of the dragon known as Denthclaw,” said Ryzon pointing at a massive dark entrance that stood at the base of a dark mountain that had once been a volcano.
There were many miles away from Tenzin, Ryzon had awoken him early that morning and together they had made a long trek to this spot. Saul was tired from trudging through such rough terrain however Ryzon didn’t seemed to have broken a sweat since he just floated the entire journey. Those strange wing-like appendages never ceased to amaze him.
“You want me to slay a dragon?” Saul blurted out.
“What I want you to do is much more difficult than that,” Ryzon explained. “You must defeat the dragon using only your will.”
Saul had heard Ryzon tell him to do some strange things before such as using the branch to kill Grawl but this was the strangest request he had ever received.
“My will… I still don’t get it.”
“The dragon will destroy you if you attempt to use any skills that I have taught you so far. They are not so easy to slay as Grawl or men. Dragons are magical creatures of great power. Even I dare not confront it,” Ryzon explained.
“You are a powerful Mursaat, I am a mortal human. Why do you expect me to do what you cannot?”
“Because you have destiny!” Ryzon bellowed and looked deep into the cave entrance. “There are some things that even humans cannot comprehend. For I am the Keeper of Balance in this world and you shall know only that.”
Saul took a deep breath and decided not to argue anymore.
“As I have told you your ancestors were great kings. And power of the kings is the power of will itself. Some people can impose their wills on others and the very fabric of reality will shift in their favour. You are a stone upon the thin fabric of reality and if you can learn to use your will you will have great effect on it.”
Saul was quite lost as to what Ryzon was talking about but listened nonetheless. He waited for a while for Ryzon to continue the lesson but the Mursaat said nothing.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me about how to defeat the dragon?” asked Saul.
Ryzon said nothing and when Saul turned around to face him he was gone.
Slowly and hesitantly, he entered the cave, each step bringing him deeper into the darkness. He walked for what seemed like an eternity through the dark passages, every footstep reverberating along the cold walls.
The air inside was damp and was a serious assault on his nose that he was contemplating turning back. But he knew this was a trial and wanted to prove he had what it took to pass it.
Finally, the cave light up.
Resting before him was a giant dragon that spanned almost the length of the large cavern that it slept in. Its red scales glinted as thought enchanted bringing an unnatural light to the cave. Plumes of smoke rose from its nostrils as it breathed. And then its eyes opened.
They were two large yellow eyes that seemed to pierce through anything it stared at. The dragon fixed its gaze on him and he felt himself begin to tremble in fear.
Saul was unarmed and contemplated Distorting but somehow felt as though even that would not save him. A creature of this magnitude was more solid than any arrow or sword. Saul had experimented with Distorting and found that he could not use it to pass through walls or any other very solid objects. All the dragon had to do to kill him was step on him.
Denthclaw roared angrily shaking the entire cave causing little pieces of rock to fall from the ceiling. But Saul did not back down. He stood his ground against the dragon in bold defiance while in the back of his mind he knew the dragon would be able to kill him in one swift move.
Saul stared right at those two big yellow eyes and fought his fear with hatred, a hatred he directed at Denthclaw.
The dragon stopped roaring and locked stares with Saul. The two of them stared at each other seemingly channelling all their anger and hatred at each other through their eyes.
Saul dared not look away even though he wanted to. To look away was to admit defeat.
“You so much as breath I will tear you apart,” though Saul gazing at Denthclaw angrily.
It seemed those big powerful yellow eyes contained the bravery and courage of a hundred men and would not be intimidated even by Grenth himself.
It seemed like almost ten minutes but slowly and surely, Denthclaw’s eyes gazed away and at that moment Saul took a step forward as though taunting the dragon.
His eyes full of rage and fury and with body language that spoke of absolute terror, Saul took another step forward as the giant dragon took a step back.
At that point Saul felt as though he could conquer anything in his path and that nothing could stop him. Saul began to walk forwards as the dragon stepped back retreating to where it slept in both fear and awe of such a powerful man.
Upon leaving the cave, he savoured the sunlight which shone on his skin, breathed the fresh air and marvelled at the world as though everything was suddenly illuminated. He had touched the fabric of reality and stretched it with his will, using it to dominate any adversaries in his way.
“I feel like a king,” said Saul upon seeing Ryzon.
“You have awakened the power in your ancient bloodline,” replied the Mursaat almost casually. “Take a good look at yourself Saul. You are not the man you once were, weak, pathetic and prone to gambling and drinking. I’ve restored you and taught you forbidden powers.”
“I’ve passed the Trials then?”
“You have passed the Trials I have set for you,” Ryzon began. “However there is another Trial you must go through and its outcome will influence all of Tyria.”
Ryzon held out a silver round mirror in front of Saul which showed image strange images instead of his own reflection.
“This is one of the Prophetic Mirrors taken from the Dark Elementalist tower. I suspect Dekster won’t be happy once he finds that I’ve borrowed it…” Ryzon’s voice trailed off. “It will show you events from far away.”
Saul gazed into the mirror and saw the red sky bleeding over Ascalon, a city covered in dust and ashes and broken villages. He saw malnourished people covered in dirt looking for rats to eat just to stay alive. He saw the lands that were once Orr but were now underwater, he saw the city of Arah a broken decrepit ruin deep beneath the sea with thousands of skeletons drifting around it, its glory in tatters.
“The Charr have destroyed Ascalon and left it as a post apocalyptic ruin,” Ryzon explained. “In Orr the great city of the gods was destroyed and its ruins cast underneath the sea.”
And suddenly a familiar sight appeared in the mirror. He saw the bustling streets of Lion’s Arch and the many ships moored at the docks. And in a blink of an eye that image changed to that of burning and people running around, their clothing set alight. Women fed their children poison to take them out of their misery while they slit their own wrists before the Charr could get to them. Men were being cut down to pieces, their limbs littering the streets. And just as suddenly, the image faded and the mirror went black.
“You have taken a glimpse of the future as it will be in the current course of events,” Ryzon said grimly. “The final kingdom of mankind in Tyria will be destroyed by the Charr and they will commit such genocide that the entire continent will belong to them.”
Saul realized his whole body was shaking and tried to shrug off the disturbing images that he had seen.
“Then I must go to Kryta. I must go fight the Charr,” he said with a great defiance. “Not a single Charr will set foot in Lion’s Arch so long as I draw breath!”
Eleven
“There lies the cave of the dragon known as Denthclaw,” said Ryzon pointing at a massive dark entrance that stood at the base of a dark mountain that had once been a volcano.
There were many miles away from Tenzin, Ryzon had awoken him early that morning and together they had made a long trek to this spot. Saul was tired from trudging through such rough terrain however Ryzon didn’t seemed to have broken a sweat since he just floated the entire journey. Those strange wing-like appendages never ceased to amaze him.
“You want me to slay a dragon?” Saul blurted out.
“What I want you to do is much more difficult than that,” Ryzon explained. “You must defeat the dragon using only your will.”
Saul had heard Ryzon tell him to do some strange things before such as using the branch to kill Grawl but this was the strangest request he had ever received.
“My will… I still don’t get it.”
“The dragon will destroy you if you attempt to use any skills that I have taught you so far. They are not so easy to slay as Grawl or men. Dragons are magical creatures of great power. Even I dare not confront it,” Ryzon explained.
“You are a powerful Mursaat, I am a mortal human. Why do you expect me to do what you cannot?”
“Because you have destiny!” Ryzon bellowed and looked deep into the cave entrance. “There are some things that even humans cannot comprehend. For I am the Keeper of Balance in this world and you shall know only that.”
Saul took a deep breath and decided not to argue anymore.
“As I have told you your ancestors were great kings. And power of the kings is the power of will itself. Some people can impose their wills on others and the very fabric of reality will shift in their favour. You are a stone upon the thin fabric of reality and if you can learn to use your will you will have great effect on it.”
Saul was quite lost as to what Ryzon was talking about but listened nonetheless. He waited for a while for Ryzon to continue the lesson but the Mursaat said nothing.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me about how to defeat the dragon?” asked Saul.
Ryzon said nothing and when Saul turned around to face him he was gone.
Slowly and hesitantly, he entered the cave, each step bringing him deeper into the darkness. He walked for what seemed like an eternity through the dark passages, every footstep reverberating along the cold walls.
The air inside was damp and was a serious assault on his nose that he was contemplating turning back. But he knew this was a trial and wanted to prove he had what it took to pass it.
Finally, the cave light up.
Resting before him was a giant dragon that spanned almost the length of the large cavern that it slept in. Its red scales glinted as thought enchanted bringing an unnatural light to the cave. Plumes of smoke rose from its nostrils as it breathed. And then its eyes opened.
They were two large yellow eyes that seemed to pierce through anything it stared at. The dragon fixed its gaze on him and he felt himself begin to tremble in fear.
Saul was unarmed and contemplated Distorting but somehow felt as though even that would not save him. A creature of this magnitude was more solid than any arrow or sword. Saul had experimented with Distorting and found that he could not use it to pass through walls or any other very solid objects. All the dragon had to do to kill him was step on him.
Denthclaw roared angrily shaking the entire cave causing little pieces of rock to fall from the ceiling. But Saul did not back down. He stood his ground against the dragon in bold defiance while in the back of his mind he knew the dragon would be able to kill him in one swift move.
Saul stared right at those two big yellow eyes and fought his fear with hatred, a hatred he directed at Denthclaw.
The dragon stopped roaring and locked stares with Saul. The two of them stared at each other seemingly channelling all their anger and hatred at each other through their eyes.
Saul dared not look away even though he wanted to. To look away was to admit defeat.
“You so much as breath I will tear you apart,” though Saul gazing at Denthclaw angrily.
It seemed those big powerful yellow eyes contained the bravery and courage of a hundred men and would not be intimidated even by Grenth himself.
It seemed like almost ten minutes but slowly and surely, Denthclaw’s eyes gazed away and at that moment Saul took a step forward as though taunting the dragon.
His eyes full of rage and fury and with body language that spoke of absolute terror, Saul took another step forward as the giant dragon took a step back.
At that point Saul felt as though he could conquer anything in his path and that nothing could stop him. Saul began to walk forwards as the dragon stepped back retreating to where it slept in both fear and awe of such a powerful man.
Upon leaving the cave, he savoured the sunlight which shone on his skin, breathed the fresh air and marvelled at the world as though everything was suddenly illuminated. He had touched the fabric of reality and stretched it with his will, using it to dominate any adversaries in his way.
“I feel like a king,” said Saul upon seeing Ryzon.
“You have awakened the power in your ancient bloodline,” replied the Mursaat almost casually. “Take a good look at yourself Saul. You are not the man you once were, weak, pathetic and prone to gambling and drinking. I’ve restored you and taught you forbidden powers.”
“I’ve passed the Trials then?”
“You have passed the Trials I have set for you,” Ryzon began. “However there is another Trial you must go through and its outcome will influence all of Tyria.”
Ryzon held out a silver round mirror in front of Saul which showed image strange images instead of his own reflection.
“This is one of the Prophetic Mirrors taken from the Dark Elementalist tower. I suspect Dekster won’t be happy once he finds that I’ve borrowed it…” Ryzon’s voice trailed off. “It will show you events from far away.”
Saul gazed into the mirror and saw the red sky bleeding over Ascalon, a city covered in dust and ashes and broken villages. He saw malnourished people covered in dirt looking for rats to eat just to stay alive. He saw the lands that were once Orr but were now underwater, he saw the city of Arah a broken decrepit ruin deep beneath the sea with thousands of skeletons drifting around it, its glory in tatters.
“The Charr have destroyed Ascalon and left it as a post apocalyptic ruin,” Ryzon explained. “In Orr the great city of the gods was destroyed and its ruins cast underneath the sea.”
And suddenly a familiar sight appeared in the mirror. He saw the bustling streets of Lion’s Arch and the many ships moored at the docks. And in a blink of an eye that image changed to that of burning and people running around, their clothing set alight. Women fed their children poison to take them out of their misery while they slit their own wrists before the Charr could get to them. Men were being cut down to pieces, their limbs littering the streets. And just as suddenly, the image faded and the mirror went black.
“You have taken a glimpse of the future as it will be in the current course of events,” Ryzon said grimly. “The final kingdom of mankind in Tyria will be destroyed by the Charr and they will commit such genocide that the entire continent will belong to them.”
Saul realized his whole body was shaking and tried to shrug off the disturbing images that he had seen.
“Then I must go to Kryta. I must go fight the Charr,” he said with a great defiance. “Not a single Charr will set foot in Lion’s Arch so long as I draw breath!”
kdhoney44
Great chapter 
Goats17
Ahhh, yes. But you could just combine all of your short stories. Hopefully writing more as you go along, eh? And it's a great chapter too.
d3kst3r
Twelve
Orden lay ahead of the road, heavy foot prints in the ground had marked the passing of the Charr. It was a silent march with Sergio ever vigilant that they would be ambushed soon. After all, they had entered Charr occupied territory. They had already captured all the lands from the Gates of Kryta to the edges of the Seaboard and help key logistics points. Kryta had effectively had all their supplies cut off from entering. The Charr leader Zenn had showed remarkable resourcefulness despite his brutal nature.
“I won’t lie to you Aidan. This is a suicidal attempt to retake a town overrun with Charr. It may be our last march,” Sergio had explained to Aidan before they departed.
“That could be said of any battle. We all die someday but few of us are lucky enough to decide how we go,” Aidan had replied sternly and without fear.
“I would never betray you or your friends.”
“And they would fight with me until the end. I know this” Aidan was ever defiant.
Sergio sighed as the town loomed ever closer, its battered remnant a reminder of the brutality of the Charr. They approached the ruins silently, the only sound was of the footsteps of their horses against the cold grey pavement below. The town seemed to be deserted, there were a few corpses in the street but overall it was peaceful.
Devona was the first off her horse. Cautiously she walked amongst the ruins with her hammer drawn. A cold chill seemed to blow through the air as though the souls of the dead were still restless.
“This place… Such violence,” Mhenlo shivered.
In the corner of her eye Cynn saw a movement.
“I think I saw something,” she whispered to Sergio.
Hurriedly Sergio told the rest of his men to draw their weapons. Cynn followed the movement and ran behind some rubble to investigate further, ready to embrace the powers of the elements any time soon.
“A child!” Cynn gasped.
There was a little girl lying in foetal position under some rubble as though she were using it as a bed. Memories and images of how her own family died suddenly flooded her head.
The girl’s face was muddy and her clothing burnt. She looked malnourished and had not eaten for days.
“I won’t hurt you,” said Cynn as she took some food out of her pouch and handed it to the girl.
The girl hurriedly ate it without speaking and rolled over to sleep.
Among Sergio’s company, more survivors were found within the ruins of Orden. Mainly women and children hiding in the rubble. They barely spoke and hurriedly ate any food and water that was offered to them. But their eyes told of horrors and atrocities unseen. Apparently all the men of the town had died repelling the Charr invasion.
Sergio gathered all the survivors together and made sure they were well fed and given better places to sleep.
“We set up camp here before nightfall,” Sergio ordered as tents started going up and fires began springing around for warmth and cooking.
That night they ate heavily salted fish and eggs. Their food would last them at least four days before they would have to resort to hunting. Though Sergio did not believe they would last four days.
“Now the question is not will the Charr will attack us, but when,” Aidan said as he sat around the campfire and the moon was in full light.
“I don’t doubt it will be soon. These lands are infested by the Charr and news would have reached their main party that we’ve come,” replied Sergio. “However that doesn’t change our mission.”
“You have stationed around five hundred men in this town. We have a good defensive position and scouts patrolling the borders,” said Aidan. “That is quite a sizable force.”
“And the Charr… last reports from Ascalon indicated they had over one hundred thousand.”
“Their numbers will have dwindled!” Devona interrupted. “They would have taken heavy casualties at Orr if the rumours I have heard are true.”
“And even then, lets say they have eighty thousand. That is enough to overrun us. Tactics and strategy mean little against sheer numbers,” Sergio argued. “Malan has sent us to our deaths.”
There was a long silence as though Sergio had just muttered something forbidden.
“Then it will be a good death,” Devona whispered. “I will die doing what I always wanted to do, to destroy as many Charr as I can.”
“From his explanation, Malan has told me that we are to retake this area of Kryta so that they can move forward against the Charr,” Sergio explained. “However I know what the true reason he sent is here is. He has sent us here to destroy as many Charr as we can and to slow down their march towards Lion’s Arch. He has had no plans for us to capture this town at all. He has sent us to our deaths in order to buy Kryta more time.”
“And the survivors? What will happen to them?” Cynn spoke out of nowhere.
“They will also die along with us. But we will die to provide Kryta more time to ready its defences.”
Another cold chill floated through the air.
“My mind is made up then,” Aidan stood up and held onto his bow tightly. “If my death can provide the citizens of the last standing human kingdom in Tyria more time, then I willingly sacrifice it.”
“Me too,” replied Devona also standing.
“Me three,” said Cynn.
Mhenlo, who had been sitting in the dark corner observing them all nodded his approval.
“Everything I have was taken from me by the Charr,” began Mhenlo. “My family, my household, everything. My friends are all I have now and I will not abandon them even to death.”
Sergio nodded and a grave expression crossed his face.
“There is an old saying in Kryta,” said Sergio. “A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser. That is the saying they teach to all those who train in the ways of the sword.” He gave a long sigh.
At that moment they heard a hurried running towards their campfire. It was one of the scouts, a ranger under Aidan’s company. He was breathing hard and panting as though he had run for a long amount of time.
The ranger collapsed to his knees the moment he reached them.
“My lords, the Charr have assembled a large army and are approaching rapidly from the south!” he reported to them.
“Assemble all of my company. Tonight we fight the battle that shall define how we are remembered,” ordered Firstwatch Sergio.
The cold air of the night suddenly became the warm heat of running blood.
Meanwhile a few leagues away a lone rider bearing a white mantle rode at full speed towards Kryta who would change the history of the world forever.
Orden lay ahead of the road, heavy foot prints in the ground had marked the passing of the Charr. It was a silent march with Sergio ever vigilant that they would be ambushed soon. After all, they had entered Charr occupied territory. They had already captured all the lands from the Gates of Kryta to the edges of the Seaboard and help key logistics points. Kryta had effectively had all their supplies cut off from entering. The Charr leader Zenn had showed remarkable resourcefulness despite his brutal nature.
“I won’t lie to you Aidan. This is a suicidal attempt to retake a town overrun with Charr. It may be our last march,” Sergio had explained to Aidan before they departed.
“That could be said of any battle. We all die someday but few of us are lucky enough to decide how we go,” Aidan had replied sternly and without fear.
“I would never betray you or your friends.”
“And they would fight with me until the end. I know this” Aidan was ever defiant.
Sergio sighed as the town loomed ever closer, its battered remnant a reminder of the brutality of the Charr. They approached the ruins silently, the only sound was of the footsteps of their horses against the cold grey pavement below. The town seemed to be deserted, there were a few corpses in the street but overall it was peaceful.
Devona was the first off her horse. Cautiously she walked amongst the ruins with her hammer drawn. A cold chill seemed to blow through the air as though the souls of the dead were still restless.
“This place… Such violence,” Mhenlo shivered.
In the corner of her eye Cynn saw a movement.
“I think I saw something,” she whispered to Sergio.
Hurriedly Sergio told the rest of his men to draw their weapons. Cynn followed the movement and ran behind some rubble to investigate further, ready to embrace the powers of the elements any time soon.
“A child!” Cynn gasped.
There was a little girl lying in foetal position under some rubble as though she were using it as a bed. Memories and images of how her own family died suddenly flooded her head.
The girl’s face was muddy and her clothing burnt. She looked malnourished and had not eaten for days.
“I won’t hurt you,” said Cynn as she took some food out of her pouch and handed it to the girl.
The girl hurriedly ate it without speaking and rolled over to sleep.
Among Sergio’s company, more survivors were found within the ruins of Orden. Mainly women and children hiding in the rubble. They barely spoke and hurriedly ate any food and water that was offered to them. But their eyes told of horrors and atrocities unseen. Apparently all the men of the town had died repelling the Charr invasion.
Sergio gathered all the survivors together and made sure they were well fed and given better places to sleep.
“We set up camp here before nightfall,” Sergio ordered as tents started going up and fires began springing around for warmth and cooking.
That night they ate heavily salted fish and eggs. Their food would last them at least four days before they would have to resort to hunting. Though Sergio did not believe they would last four days.
“Now the question is not will the Charr will attack us, but when,” Aidan said as he sat around the campfire and the moon was in full light.
“I don’t doubt it will be soon. These lands are infested by the Charr and news would have reached their main party that we’ve come,” replied Sergio. “However that doesn’t change our mission.”
“You have stationed around five hundred men in this town. We have a good defensive position and scouts patrolling the borders,” said Aidan. “That is quite a sizable force.”
“And the Charr… last reports from Ascalon indicated they had over one hundred thousand.”
“Their numbers will have dwindled!” Devona interrupted. “They would have taken heavy casualties at Orr if the rumours I have heard are true.”
“And even then, lets say they have eighty thousand. That is enough to overrun us. Tactics and strategy mean little against sheer numbers,” Sergio argued. “Malan has sent us to our deaths.”
There was a long silence as though Sergio had just muttered something forbidden.
“Then it will be a good death,” Devona whispered. “I will die doing what I always wanted to do, to destroy as many Charr as I can.”
“From his explanation, Malan has told me that we are to retake this area of Kryta so that they can move forward against the Charr,” Sergio explained. “However I know what the true reason he sent is here is. He has sent us here to destroy as many Charr as we can and to slow down their march towards Lion’s Arch. He has had no plans for us to capture this town at all. He has sent us to our deaths in order to buy Kryta more time.”
“And the survivors? What will happen to them?” Cynn spoke out of nowhere.
“They will also die along with us. But we will die to provide Kryta more time to ready its defences.”
Another cold chill floated through the air.
“My mind is made up then,” Aidan stood up and held onto his bow tightly. “If my death can provide the citizens of the last standing human kingdom in Tyria more time, then I willingly sacrifice it.”
“Me too,” replied Devona also standing.
“Me three,” said Cynn.
Mhenlo, who had been sitting in the dark corner observing them all nodded his approval.
“Everything I have was taken from me by the Charr,” began Mhenlo. “My family, my household, everything. My friends are all I have now and I will not abandon them even to death.”
Sergio nodded and a grave expression crossed his face.
“There is an old saying in Kryta,” said Sergio. “A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser. That is the saying they teach to all those who train in the ways of the sword.” He gave a long sigh.
At that moment they heard a hurried running towards their campfire. It was one of the scouts, a ranger under Aidan’s company. He was breathing hard and panting as though he had run for a long amount of time.
The ranger collapsed to his knees the moment he reached them.
“My lords, the Charr have assembled a large army and are approaching rapidly from the south!” he reported to them.
“Assemble all of my company. Tonight we fight the battle that shall define how we are remembered,” ordered Firstwatch Sergio.
The cold air of the night suddenly became the warm heat of running blood.
Meanwhile a few leagues away a lone rider bearing a white mantle rode at full speed towards Kryta who would change the history of the world forever.
Goats17
How many chapters are in this Volume again?
d3kst3r
Will be wrapped up in about 5 more chapters.
storm of daeth
awesome i can't wait for more this is better than any book i've ever read in my entire life.
d3kst3r
Wow thats a really strong compliment. Thanks a lot and here's the next chapter.
Thirteen
Aidan nocked an arrow and fired, and then nocked another one with only a breath in between to pause. The smell of death clung to the air like a fetid mist. There was a gash on the right side of his face and beside him Mhenlo was patching up a deep wound that had appeared on his chest.
At night, Aidan seemed to be sharper and more aware, each breath he breathed he could taste the scent of Charr all around and the reek of fear among men. Across his view he could see Sergio slashing away with Frostfell in elegant movements cutting down as many foes as he could.
It was chaos, the humans and the Charr fought with all their might in the town of Oren, fire and dust filling the streets but for every Charr that was killed, two more came to replace him.
Atop the highest building Cynn weaved intricate patterns using the power of the elementalists causing fire and lightning to shoot out from her hands and slamming them into Charr scorching some of them dead and others into burnt out husks. The concentration in her eyes was unlike anything Aidan had seen before.
“We must plan an escape!” Devona said smashing a foe directly over the head with her hammer.
“We’re surrounded! There’s no way out!” Sergio cried next to her as he parried a sword blow and struck back with a counter blow swiftly slicing the Charr across the throat neatly severing its head from its shoulders.
It was true, the Charr were like waves crashing against a tall rock in the middle of the sea. Men were dying everywhere they could see and the fighting became so chaotic that the survivors had to focus on their footwork to avoid tripping over the dead. The amount of blood lying around the ground made fast movements difficult.
Ontop the highest building in Oren, Cynn and Aidan’s company of archers fired at the oncoming army frantically and without pause to think while below on the streets the swordsman led by Sergio and Devona fought back waves upon waves of enemies trying to prevent them from reaching the tall building.
Aidan could see that it would only be a matter of time before all the fighters at street level would be overwhelmed and slaughtered and then the archers would have to pull out their daggers and short swords and begin to fight melee combat, something which they were not trained for.
A stray arrow from one of the Charr archers suddenly struck Mhenlo in the shoulder. Without thinking, Mhenlo pulled the arrow out swiftly and placed his hand on the wound which was now bleeding profusely.
“By the Light of Dwayna,” he muttered as the wound closed up and then he passed out.
“Our monk has passed out from exhaustion!” one of the archers yelled seeing Mhenlo lying on the cold rooftop.
The flames flying out of Cynn’s hands had died down to just a flicker barely enough to light a candle. Hurriedly she grabbed a nearby spare bow and started firing frantically at the army of Charr around them using what little training Aidan had taught her on archery.
Below, Sergio’s company’s circular formation around the tall building had been broken at last. Several Charr saw the opening and streamed pass them into the building itself before Sergio was able to quickly close the gap.
“Prepare your men for melee!” Sergio yelled towards Aidan.
“Blades!” Aidan ordered as the rangers hurriedly put down their bows and drew their blades.
The first of the Charr rushed up the stairs onto the flat rooftop area and was quickly overwhelmed by five or so rangers rushing him with their daggers drawn and slicing off its limbs. Another three Charr appeared right behind the first and slashed the same rangers to death with their skilled swordsmanship abilities.
Aidan rushed forward, crouched quickly so that a sword barely missed taking off his head and then rose up infront of his attacker and slide his dagger deep into the Charr’s heart, past the leather hide. Then he pulled it out as the creature stumbled and then collapsed bleeding to death on the ground.
Aidan’s company had lost about a dozen men before the rooftop was finally cleared of the Charr.
“We can’t hold much longer!” Devona yelled from ground level as an arrow ricocheted off her heavy bloodstained armour.
Sergio by now, no longer had enough men to close the gaps of the formation and a look of defeat crossed his face.
“Everyone! Retreat to the rooftop!” he issued the order as all the men fighting at street level steadily went into the tall building.
The Charr had their victory. They charged into the building after the men slashing and stabbing their way through. Sergio and Devona and a lucky few others had managed to make their way to the rooftop to join Aidan’s company for a last stand against the Charr. Looks of grim determination showed on their faces and for a moment it seemed the battlefield was silent.
The stairway entrance to the rooftop had been barricaded by furniture by now and it was a grim wait for the Charr to rush through and kill them all.
The soldiers looked at each other with a feeling of mutual respect that these people were the last people they’d see before they would die.
“There is an old saying in Kryta,” said Sergio. “A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser.”
“A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser,” Aidan chanted after him. “A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser…” more men were chanting now.
Together they chanted the same verse over and over.
“A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser…” they chanted in unison and with such courage and might an onlooker may have believed that they were expecting to win.
Suddenly a great courage rose up among the ranks drowning out the sound of the Charr breaking through the barricade. And break through they did, with a great crash of swords and metal.
As soon as the Charr began to invade the rooftop, the handful of human survivors rushed them with great aplomb and courage that the Charr were startled and made a temporary halt.
“Death in battle! The greatest glory!” cried Devona hitting a foe so hard that he fell back down the stairway knocking down many other Charr like a stack of falling dominos.
“Crush them,” ordered the Charr general as they regained their composure and charged back up the stairs furiously like a pack of wild animals.
Aidan was stabbed in the thigh bringing him down in great pain that caused him to grit his teeth.
Sergio parried frantically trying to take on six Charr at once before he lost his footing and fell to the ground. Devona jumped to his aide but was knocked back. Cynn stood at the back, unarmed and unable to summon the elements, some Charr saw and rushed her trying for an easy kill.
“It’s over,” cried Aidan as all around them he saw people he knew and loved getting slaughtered.
Suddenly out of nowhere he saw in the corner of his eye a bright figure dressed completely in the finest white cloths he had ever seen. That was all he saw before he passed out from blood loss.
Saul D’Alessio jumped off his horse on the edge of the Seaboard town of Orden with sword in hand and alone, he rushed towards the army of five hundred strong Charr before him. Above him the first beams of daylight beckoned.
“This one’s for Gran,” he muttered before surging forward.
Thirteen
Aidan nocked an arrow and fired, and then nocked another one with only a breath in between to pause. The smell of death clung to the air like a fetid mist. There was a gash on the right side of his face and beside him Mhenlo was patching up a deep wound that had appeared on his chest.
At night, Aidan seemed to be sharper and more aware, each breath he breathed he could taste the scent of Charr all around and the reek of fear among men. Across his view he could see Sergio slashing away with Frostfell in elegant movements cutting down as many foes as he could.
It was chaos, the humans and the Charr fought with all their might in the town of Oren, fire and dust filling the streets but for every Charr that was killed, two more came to replace him.
Atop the highest building Cynn weaved intricate patterns using the power of the elementalists causing fire and lightning to shoot out from her hands and slamming them into Charr scorching some of them dead and others into burnt out husks. The concentration in her eyes was unlike anything Aidan had seen before.
“We must plan an escape!” Devona said smashing a foe directly over the head with her hammer.
“We’re surrounded! There’s no way out!” Sergio cried next to her as he parried a sword blow and struck back with a counter blow swiftly slicing the Charr across the throat neatly severing its head from its shoulders.
It was true, the Charr were like waves crashing against a tall rock in the middle of the sea. Men were dying everywhere they could see and the fighting became so chaotic that the survivors had to focus on their footwork to avoid tripping over the dead. The amount of blood lying around the ground made fast movements difficult.
Ontop the highest building in Oren, Cynn and Aidan’s company of archers fired at the oncoming army frantically and without pause to think while below on the streets the swordsman led by Sergio and Devona fought back waves upon waves of enemies trying to prevent them from reaching the tall building.
Aidan could see that it would only be a matter of time before all the fighters at street level would be overwhelmed and slaughtered and then the archers would have to pull out their daggers and short swords and begin to fight melee combat, something which they were not trained for.
A stray arrow from one of the Charr archers suddenly struck Mhenlo in the shoulder. Without thinking, Mhenlo pulled the arrow out swiftly and placed his hand on the wound which was now bleeding profusely.
“By the Light of Dwayna,” he muttered as the wound closed up and then he passed out.
“Our monk has passed out from exhaustion!” one of the archers yelled seeing Mhenlo lying on the cold rooftop.
The flames flying out of Cynn’s hands had died down to just a flicker barely enough to light a candle. Hurriedly she grabbed a nearby spare bow and started firing frantically at the army of Charr around them using what little training Aidan had taught her on archery.
Below, Sergio’s company’s circular formation around the tall building had been broken at last. Several Charr saw the opening and streamed pass them into the building itself before Sergio was able to quickly close the gap.
“Prepare your men for melee!” Sergio yelled towards Aidan.
“Blades!” Aidan ordered as the rangers hurriedly put down their bows and drew their blades.
The first of the Charr rushed up the stairs onto the flat rooftop area and was quickly overwhelmed by five or so rangers rushing him with their daggers drawn and slicing off its limbs. Another three Charr appeared right behind the first and slashed the same rangers to death with their skilled swordsmanship abilities.
Aidan rushed forward, crouched quickly so that a sword barely missed taking off his head and then rose up infront of his attacker and slide his dagger deep into the Charr’s heart, past the leather hide. Then he pulled it out as the creature stumbled and then collapsed bleeding to death on the ground.
Aidan’s company had lost about a dozen men before the rooftop was finally cleared of the Charr.
“We can’t hold much longer!” Devona yelled from ground level as an arrow ricocheted off her heavy bloodstained armour.
Sergio by now, no longer had enough men to close the gaps of the formation and a look of defeat crossed his face.
“Everyone! Retreat to the rooftop!” he issued the order as all the men fighting at street level steadily went into the tall building.
The Charr had their victory. They charged into the building after the men slashing and stabbing their way through. Sergio and Devona and a lucky few others had managed to make their way to the rooftop to join Aidan’s company for a last stand against the Charr. Looks of grim determination showed on their faces and for a moment it seemed the battlefield was silent.
The stairway entrance to the rooftop had been barricaded by furniture by now and it was a grim wait for the Charr to rush through and kill them all.
The soldiers looked at each other with a feeling of mutual respect that these people were the last people they’d see before they would die.
“There is an old saying in Kryta,” said Sergio. “A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser.”
“A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser,” Aidan chanted after him. “A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser…” more men were chanting now.
Together they chanted the same verse over and over.
“A man who accepts the fact that he will die someday becomes infinitely wiser…” they chanted in unison and with such courage and might an onlooker may have believed that they were expecting to win.
Suddenly a great courage rose up among the ranks drowning out the sound of the Charr breaking through the barricade. And break through they did, with a great crash of swords and metal.
As soon as the Charr began to invade the rooftop, the handful of human survivors rushed them with great aplomb and courage that the Charr were startled and made a temporary halt.
“Death in battle! The greatest glory!” cried Devona hitting a foe so hard that he fell back down the stairway knocking down many other Charr like a stack of falling dominos.
“Crush them,” ordered the Charr general as they regained their composure and charged back up the stairs furiously like a pack of wild animals.
Aidan was stabbed in the thigh bringing him down in great pain that caused him to grit his teeth.
Sergio parried frantically trying to take on six Charr at once before he lost his footing and fell to the ground. Devona jumped to his aide but was knocked back. Cynn stood at the back, unarmed and unable to summon the elements, some Charr saw and rushed her trying for an easy kill.
“It’s over,” cried Aidan as all around them he saw people he knew and loved getting slaughtered.
Suddenly out of nowhere he saw in the corner of his eye a bright figure dressed completely in the finest white cloths he had ever seen. That was all he saw before he passed out from blood loss.
Saul D’Alessio jumped off his horse on the edge of the Seaboard town of Orden with sword in hand and alone, he rushed towards the army of five hundred strong Charr before him. Above him the first beams of daylight beckoned.
“This one’s for Gran,” he muttered before surging forward.
Selerious
Very nice, the battles going to be awesome, Saul going nuts on the charr, can't wait.
Goats17
I don't know what to say. I have used all my compliments. These are perfect.
d3kst3r
Mmmm... I checked it and it seems you're right. I'm going to correct it now.
d3kst3r
The story seems to be going pretty straightforward for the heroes now but there will be 3 major twists before the end that will turn Saul's return completely upside down and force him to endure great sacrifices.
Fourteen
He was at one with his mind, like a single light floating in a sea of darkness. The blade kicked and screamed its way through flesh without mercy or thought, like speckled spectre that cut through the grey mists that was Charr flesh.
“Retreat!” yelled the Charr general as the figure clad in the purest white sliced through their ranks moving unnaturally like something sent by Balthazar itself to claim an ancient vengeance.
Beams of light illuminated the swordsman, bathing him in brightness that hurt their eyes even to gaze at him. Defying all reason and logic, every single blade and arrow aimed towards the figure seemed to pass right through him. It was a walking nightmare. The surreal motion of the flickering blade was so strange that some rubbed their eyes not quite believing what they were seeing. Every graceful movement seemed to slice important arteries, cut down limbs and remove heads from torsos.
“Retreat! Retreat!” cried the Charr general again that he felt his own heart tremble in fear at such a powerful entity that had arrived out of nowhere.
The army made a hasty retreat, many of them not daring to look back at the bizarre being that would haunt their dreams. All in all three dozen Charr had been mercilessly slaughtered by the foe, the formation line had not only been broken, but shattered by just one man.
As the light shone upon him he felt as though it were washing away his old identity, cleaning away his sins and renewing his soul. All the blood that had touched his enchanted clothing had disappeared within moments as he made his way to the tallest building in the centre of Orden.
There were few Krytan survivors there, maybe two dozen he counted and there was a dreadful silence now surrounding the town. Corpses lay all over the streets and the smell of blood hung like a heavy mist.
Finally feeling that the danger had gone, he released the darkness in his mind and felt human emotion re-entering his body. Only then did it dawn on him what he had just done. It was like he had just come out of a trance.
“By the Hand of Balthazar and the Gaze of Grenth!” he exclaimed at the sight before him, his heart suddenly began beating rapidly with both excitement and shock.
The first of the survivors approached him limping using a mighty looking sword as a walking aide.
“My lord…” he bowed deeply despite his wounds. “I am Firstwatch Sergio of Lion’s Arch. Your… Your skill… is amazing!” he stumbled on his own words.
Saul had heard of Sergio before. He was a renowned and famous citizen within Kryta generally beloved by the public and many men were in awe of his achievements. Saul was stunned to see him here bowing to him and calling him a lord.
Other survivors hobbled through the corpses and the ruin towards Saul, all of them looking at him in awe, some were actively gaping.
“My name is Saul D’Alessio,” was all he could think of. “I’m very hungry and very thirsty,” he said before he could believe what he had just said.
But it was true, his stomach was grumbling and his mouth was dry for he had ridden for a long time without pause.
One of the survivors approached him with a flask of water and offered him some dry meats which he ate in a quick hurry. After he wiped his mouth he found it disturbing that they were still staring at him in awe.
“We must leave this place. In a few hours I fear more Charr will arrive to reclaim this land,” he told them which finally got them going.
The monk in their party who looked totally exhausted tended to their wounds and went back into a deep sleep and had to be carried as they made their way on feet slowly back towards Lion’s Arch. Saul was the only one who rode on horseback although he offered it to the others they refused.
“You know these lands well,” said a stern young woman who wore heavy armour and carried a large hammer.
“I was born in these lands,” he replied trying not to give anything away as he rode on.
“My name is Devona. I came here from Ascalon with my friends in order to help the Krytans fight their war,” she said.
“So you had no need to come here and yet you still did despite the overwhelming odds. Why would you do such a thing?”
“The Charr have destroyed everything I have. I would gladly trade my life in exchange for vengeance,” she replied with a dark look.
Saul sighed.
“As would I,” he thought of Gran and the innocent people he had killed himself and felt ashamed.
Before nightfall Saul would learn the names of all those he had saved and feel within himself a slight sense of redemption. Looking back on the last borders of the Seaboard, he sighed. Someday that region would be named after him.
That night they found a quiet clearing in which to set up camp. They had no tents and no sheets to sleep on and so they slept on the cold grass. The rangers in Aidan’s company had no objections to that for they were used to it and had been strengthened by living in the wild for so long. The swordsmen muttered some discomfort but decided to rest after all.
Saul sat staring into the camp fire and rubbing his hands. He had been away from Kryta for so long he almost felt as though he had returned to a foreign land.
“Lord Saul,” Sergio bowed and sat beside him at the fire. “I have a gift for you.”
Sergio unwrapped his mighty Frostfell blade and laid it before Saul.
“You deserve it more than I do,” Sergio said as Saul admired the beautiful craftsmanship of the fell blade.
“It is too great a gift for the likes of me,” Saul replied.
“There is no greater warrior in the land than you,” Sergio replied with a grin. “… my lord.”
Saul picked up Frostfell and held it in his hand. He could feel the power of it, the weight, the dangerous sharp tips.
“This is truly the greatest sword I have ever seen. I thank you,” said Saul giving Sergio his own old sword that the Mursaat had armed him with.
“Better than any branch,” he laughed to himself after Sergio had gone to sleep.
Saul felt an emotion he hadn’t felt since he had worked on Gran’s farm that night. It was a feeling of contentment.
He noticed for the first time that day that Aidan carried a strange looking banner in his pouch. The banner was a piece of old cloth that was blue with a white dragon in its centre. Saul fondly remembered in his early childhood he had the same type of banner. The recognition of the banner made him sit up straight and wonder where Aidan had gotten such a thing but he didn’t wish to ask since Aidan was soundly asleep. He remembered some words that Ryzon had once told him about his heritage.
“Your ancestors were great kings,” Ryzon had explained after Saul had stared down the dragon.
Thinking no more of it Saul went to sleep buried in tiredness. Tomorrow they would set foot in Lion’s Arch and begin defence of the capitol city of Kryta. Little did he know that the blue banner represented the King of Orr and that Aidan had carried it with him ever since he left Arah.
That night his dreams were no longer plagued by the nightmares he had suffered for a long time. He dreamed that the hands of hundreds of thousands of Orrians held him up and carried him towards the sky.
Fourteen
He was at one with his mind, like a single light floating in a sea of darkness. The blade kicked and screamed its way through flesh without mercy or thought, like speckled spectre that cut through the grey mists that was Charr flesh.
“Retreat!” yelled the Charr general as the figure clad in the purest white sliced through their ranks moving unnaturally like something sent by Balthazar itself to claim an ancient vengeance.
Beams of light illuminated the swordsman, bathing him in brightness that hurt their eyes even to gaze at him. Defying all reason and logic, every single blade and arrow aimed towards the figure seemed to pass right through him. It was a walking nightmare. The surreal motion of the flickering blade was so strange that some rubbed their eyes not quite believing what they were seeing. Every graceful movement seemed to slice important arteries, cut down limbs and remove heads from torsos.
“Retreat! Retreat!” cried the Charr general again that he felt his own heart tremble in fear at such a powerful entity that had arrived out of nowhere.
The army made a hasty retreat, many of them not daring to look back at the bizarre being that would haunt their dreams. All in all three dozen Charr had been mercilessly slaughtered by the foe, the formation line had not only been broken, but shattered by just one man.
As the light shone upon him he felt as though it were washing away his old identity, cleaning away his sins and renewing his soul. All the blood that had touched his enchanted clothing had disappeared within moments as he made his way to the tallest building in the centre of Orden.
There were few Krytan survivors there, maybe two dozen he counted and there was a dreadful silence now surrounding the town. Corpses lay all over the streets and the smell of blood hung like a heavy mist.
Finally feeling that the danger had gone, he released the darkness in his mind and felt human emotion re-entering his body. Only then did it dawn on him what he had just done. It was like he had just come out of a trance.
“By the Hand of Balthazar and the Gaze of Grenth!” he exclaimed at the sight before him, his heart suddenly began beating rapidly with both excitement and shock.
The first of the survivors approached him limping using a mighty looking sword as a walking aide.
“My lord…” he bowed deeply despite his wounds. “I am Firstwatch Sergio of Lion’s Arch. Your… Your skill… is amazing!” he stumbled on his own words.
Saul had heard of Sergio before. He was a renowned and famous citizen within Kryta generally beloved by the public and many men were in awe of his achievements. Saul was stunned to see him here bowing to him and calling him a lord.
Other survivors hobbled through the corpses and the ruin towards Saul, all of them looking at him in awe, some were actively gaping.
“My name is Saul D’Alessio,” was all he could think of. “I’m very hungry and very thirsty,” he said before he could believe what he had just said.
But it was true, his stomach was grumbling and his mouth was dry for he had ridden for a long time without pause.
One of the survivors approached him with a flask of water and offered him some dry meats which he ate in a quick hurry. After he wiped his mouth he found it disturbing that they were still staring at him in awe.
“We must leave this place. In a few hours I fear more Charr will arrive to reclaim this land,” he told them which finally got them going.
The monk in their party who looked totally exhausted tended to their wounds and went back into a deep sleep and had to be carried as they made their way on feet slowly back towards Lion’s Arch. Saul was the only one who rode on horseback although he offered it to the others they refused.
“You know these lands well,” said a stern young woman who wore heavy armour and carried a large hammer.
“I was born in these lands,” he replied trying not to give anything away as he rode on.
“My name is Devona. I came here from Ascalon with my friends in order to help the Krytans fight their war,” she said.
“So you had no need to come here and yet you still did despite the overwhelming odds. Why would you do such a thing?”
“The Charr have destroyed everything I have. I would gladly trade my life in exchange for vengeance,” she replied with a dark look.
Saul sighed.
“As would I,” he thought of Gran and the innocent people he had killed himself and felt ashamed.
Before nightfall Saul would learn the names of all those he had saved and feel within himself a slight sense of redemption. Looking back on the last borders of the Seaboard, he sighed. Someday that region would be named after him.
That night they found a quiet clearing in which to set up camp. They had no tents and no sheets to sleep on and so they slept on the cold grass. The rangers in Aidan’s company had no objections to that for they were used to it and had been strengthened by living in the wild for so long. The swordsmen muttered some discomfort but decided to rest after all.
Saul sat staring into the camp fire and rubbing his hands. He had been away from Kryta for so long he almost felt as though he had returned to a foreign land.
“Lord Saul,” Sergio bowed and sat beside him at the fire. “I have a gift for you.”
Sergio unwrapped his mighty Frostfell blade and laid it before Saul.
“You deserve it more than I do,” Sergio said as Saul admired the beautiful craftsmanship of the fell blade.
“It is too great a gift for the likes of me,” Saul replied.
“There is no greater warrior in the land than you,” Sergio replied with a grin. “… my lord.”
Saul picked up Frostfell and held it in his hand. He could feel the power of it, the weight, the dangerous sharp tips.
“This is truly the greatest sword I have ever seen. I thank you,” said Saul giving Sergio his own old sword that the Mursaat had armed him with.
“Better than any branch,” he laughed to himself after Sergio had gone to sleep.
Saul felt an emotion he hadn’t felt since he had worked on Gran’s farm that night. It was a feeling of contentment.
He noticed for the first time that day that Aidan carried a strange looking banner in his pouch. The banner was a piece of old cloth that was blue with a white dragon in its centre. Saul fondly remembered in his early childhood he had the same type of banner. The recognition of the banner made him sit up straight and wonder where Aidan had gotten such a thing but he didn’t wish to ask since Aidan was soundly asleep. He remembered some words that Ryzon had once told him about his heritage.
“Your ancestors were great kings,” Ryzon had explained after Saul had stared down the dragon.
Thinking no more of it Saul went to sleep buried in tiredness. Tomorrow they would set foot in Lion’s Arch and begin defence of the capitol city of Kryta. Little did he know that the blue banner represented the King of Orr and that Aidan had carried it with him ever since he left Arah.
That night his dreams were no longer plagued by the nightmares he had suffered for a long time. He dreamed that the hands of hundreds of thousands of Orrians held him up and carried him towards the sky.
Xceran
I just recently discovered your writing, the lost volumes, and I must say, you are truly a talanted writer.
This is really, really good!!!
I take a bow for you!!
As all the others has said over and over again, I really look forward to the next chapter!!
~Xceran
This is really, really good!!!
I take a bow for you!!
As all the others has said over and over again, I really look forward to the next chapter!!
~Xceran
storm of daeth
wow that last chapter was amazing i can't wait for more you should really think about becoming an author.
Storm Crow
A question to d3kst3r - Do you have a fascination with the subtitle "The Lost Volumes"? I noticed that your "Cataclysm of Orr" thread also had this subtitle...
Just wondering, I don't expect a formal answer.
Just wondering, I don't expect a formal answer.
d3kst3r
Quote:
Originally Posted by Storm Crow
A question to d3kst3r - Do you have a fascination with the subtitle "The Lost Volumes"? I noticed that your "Cataclysm of Orr" thread also had this subtitle...
Just wondering, I don't expect a formal answer. Trials of Saul is the sequel to Cataclysm of Orr hence they are both part of the Lost Volumes collection.
Edit: Also in the stories the Lost Volumes are ancient texts written by a Mursaat scholar that keeps record of history throughout Tyria.
Just wondering, I don't expect a formal answer. Trials of Saul is the sequel to Cataclysm of Orr hence they are both part of the Lost Volumes collection.
Edit: Also in the stories the Lost Volumes are ancient texts written by a Mursaat scholar that keeps record of history throughout Tyria.
Storm Crow
But, wouldn't it seem that if they were part of the same series, the current subtitle would be a pretitle, and the name of the story would come after?
d3kst3r
Well as naming conventions go, you are allowed to have the series title come second although it's a rare occurence. I decided to go that way to distinguish the names of the individual stories better. Anyway a name is just a name, in the end it's the story itself that's more important.
d3kst3r
Haven't had much time to write. Been playing Factions.
Fifteen
The large gates to Lion’s Arch opened up ushering in the survivors of the Orden massacre. Rumours had spread around the town that a hero dressed in white had fought the Charr back and rescued a handful of Krytans. The streets were filling with gossip and by the time the survivors had arrived, the gossip reached fever pitch.
“It is the White Saviour!”
“He’s real!”
“He will save us!”
Lion’s Arch was abound with whispers in the street as Saul walked self consciously through the crowd. The fact that his clothing was pure white and enchanted to never be dirty didn’t help things. The way that the sun illuminated him only proved to many that the gossip was true.
“Look at all the gapers,” Cynn giggled as they parted the crowd on their way to the Keep.
“The rumours are justified. There is no greater warrior in the land,” muttered Aidan.
Hope was kindled in the faces of the old, light seemed to twinkle in their weary eyes at the sight of the White Saviour. Children stared in awe and seemed to feel the power emanating off Saul’s being. Saul shut his ears off before some of the more far fetched rumours he heard muttered began to embarrass him.
After a long, long walk they finally reached the Keep. Malan however, seemed to be expecting him. Beside Malan, Malaquire looked at them with a sad gaze.
“My friend Sergio, it seems you have returned in one piece,” he spoke to the group as he stood at the top of the steps leading into the Keep. “How unfortunate that we have lost Orden.”
“Orden is completely overrun! We’re lucky to have come out with our lives!” Sergio spat with indignation. “I told you it was a suicide run and yet you still continue to stress its tactical importance!”
“Enough!” Malan shouted out as everything fell to silence. After a while he spoke in a whisper. “And I see you have brought a new comer.” His gaze shifted to Saul D’Alessio with disdain in his eyes.
“This man is the weapon to destroy our foes! He is the greatest warrior in the land!” Aidan proclaimed.
“This man was exiled from Kryta just two weeks ago for murder!” Malan replied stunning everyone in sight. “His name is Saul D’Alessio and he is a murderer!”
Saul’s eyes grew wide at the sudden shock.
Malaquire sighed, unfurled a scroll and read it out aloud without much enthusiasm.
“By order of law fifty-five of Kryta,” he cleared his throat. “Any villain to return from exile to Krytan lands will be sentenced to death.”
“This is madness!” Sergio was furious.
A dozen guards emerged from the Keep all heavily armed and surrounded the group.
“We have returned from Orden and this is the reception we get?” Cynn spoke angrily and it seemed for a second a flame ignited in her eyes.
“You cannot arrest him! He is our only hope against the Charr!” protested Mhenlo.
The guards drew their swords and seemed ready to strike them at any minute. Saul sighed.
“I will see no more bloodshed of my fellow countrymen,” he said without lacking any confidence.
Saul emerged from the group and let himself be led away as the others looked on in disbelief.
“Now go help prepare the defences,” Malan ordered Sergio and then turned his back and walked into the Keep.
Sergio shook his head in great disdain.
“Malan is out of his mind,” he said.
“I’m sorry my old friend but it is Krytan law. Malan will uphold the law at all costs, even you know that,” Malaquire replied. “Even if it means the destruction of Kryta.”
“There won’t be any laws left if we do not free Saul,” said Sergio.
“Is he really the great warrior that all the rumours have told of? Some of the things I’ve heard are extremely far fetched,” Malaquire spoke casually for the first time since their reunion.
“He is a warrior of godly power. I saw him slaughter through an army of Charr all by himself without taking a single injury. His fighting style is… unnatural,” Aidan explained. “And when he is nearby, in the breeze I feel a kind of presence… like he is a large rock against the pond that is destiny. He seems to be able to shape it to his own will.”
Meanwhile Saul was led deep underground beneath the Keep into a dank cell infested by rats. The only sunlight that entered came from a small hole in a crack in the roof.
He felt cold as the heavy iron door shut behind him and slowly adjusted his eyes to the darkness.
“Tomorrow you shall be executed,” one of the guard’s said casually before leaving.
In the loneliness, Saul called upon the powers of Distortion and moved his hand against the cell wall. Despite being able to allow small objects such as swords and arrows to pass through him, he was unable to pass through anything as solid and heavy as a wall. Even his power had limits.
He gave a long sigh and then sat against the wall. He closed his eyes and drew upon the darkness that Ryzon had taught him about. And he found himself floating in nothingness, as though he were really there. In the void he focused on his surroundings hard experimenting with this strange world.
“Avenge me!” came a hollow eerie voice.
“Seek vengeance for my son!” came another voice.
For a second Saul thought he was imagining things but soon he heard thousands of voices all calling for some sort of revenge.
He blinked against the dark void and focused on the vast nothingness before him. All of a sudden it was like piercing through the veil of the surface of water. The darkness disappeared and he saw the void as it actually was.
Everywhere he saw hundreds of thousands of lost souls floating around beside him. Their bodies were hollow and emitted a pale light. They were the spirits of those who had died at the Cataclysm of Orr.
Suddenly he realized where his power came from. Comprehension dawned on him. Ryzon had not told him the full details. Saul D’Alessio was the descendent of the kings of Orr and after its destruction, the unavenged souls somehow found him within the void. It was their will and thirst for revenge that gave him such powerful earthly powers. The souls were like a well of unlimited energy that Saul could draw upon to do great feats that no other mortal was capable of.
But at the same time he was haunted.
The thousands of voices seemed to all call to him at the same time.
“Avenge me! Avenge my family!”
The voices in his head overwhelmed his thoughts and in the void they tugged against his soul in all directions pleading and begging him for vengeance.
“Get away! Get away!” he yelled without any words.
And just like that his eyes opened and he was back in his cell once again. A cold sweat covered his back. The battle of Lion’s Arch would soon begin and Saul was stuck in a dark cell, tormented by the spirits within.
Fifteen
The large gates to Lion’s Arch opened up ushering in the survivors of the Orden massacre. Rumours had spread around the town that a hero dressed in white had fought the Charr back and rescued a handful of Krytans. The streets were filling with gossip and by the time the survivors had arrived, the gossip reached fever pitch.
“It is the White Saviour!”
“He’s real!”
“He will save us!”
Lion’s Arch was abound with whispers in the street as Saul walked self consciously through the crowd. The fact that his clothing was pure white and enchanted to never be dirty didn’t help things. The way that the sun illuminated him only proved to many that the gossip was true.
“Look at all the gapers,” Cynn giggled as they parted the crowd on their way to the Keep.
“The rumours are justified. There is no greater warrior in the land,” muttered Aidan.
Hope was kindled in the faces of the old, light seemed to twinkle in their weary eyes at the sight of the White Saviour. Children stared in awe and seemed to feel the power emanating off Saul’s being. Saul shut his ears off before some of the more far fetched rumours he heard muttered began to embarrass him.
After a long, long walk they finally reached the Keep. Malan however, seemed to be expecting him. Beside Malan, Malaquire looked at them with a sad gaze.
“My friend Sergio, it seems you have returned in one piece,” he spoke to the group as he stood at the top of the steps leading into the Keep. “How unfortunate that we have lost Orden.”
“Orden is completely overrun! We’re lucky to have come out with our lives!” Sergio spat with indignation. “I told you it was a suicide run and yet you still continue to stress its tactical importance!”
“Enough!” Malan shouted out as everything fell to silence. After a while he spoke in a whisper. “And I see you have brought a new comer.” His gaze shifted to Saul D’Alessio with disdain in his eyes.
“This man is the weapon to destroy our foes! He is the greatest warrior in the land!” Aidan proclaimed.
“This man was exiled from Kryta just two weeks ago for murder!” Malan replied stunning everyone in sight. “His name is Saul D’Alessio and he is a murderer!”
Saul’s eyes grew wide at the sudden shock.
Malaquire sighed, unfurled a scroll and read it out aloud without much enthusiasm.
“By order of law fifty-five of Kryta,” he cleared his throat. “Any villain to return from exile to Krytan lands will be sentenced to death.”
“This is madness!” Sergio was furious.
A dozen guards emerged from the Keep all heavily armed and surrounded the group.
“We have returned from Orden and this is the reception we get?” Cynn spoke angrily and it seemed for a second a flame ignited in her eyes.
“You cannot arrest him! He is our only hope against the Charr!” protested Mhenlo.
The guards drew their swords and seemed ready to strike them at any minute. Saul sighed.
“I will see no more bloodshed of my fellow countrymen,” he said without lacking any confidence.
Saul emerged from the group and let himself be led away as the others looked on in disbelief.
“Now go help prepare the defences,” Malan ordered Sergio and then turned his back and walked into the Keep.
Sergio shook his head in great disdain.
“Malan is out of his mind,” he said.
“I’m sorry my old friend but it is Krytan law. Malan will uphold the law at all costs, even you know that,” Malaquire replied. “Even if it means the destruction of Kryta.”
“There won’t be any laws left if we do not free Saul,” said Sergio.
“Is he really the great warrior that all the rumours have told of? Some of the things I’ve heard are extremely far fetched,” Malaquire spoke casually for the first time since their reunion.
“He is a warrior of godly power. I saw him slaughter through an army of Charr all by himself without taking a single injury. His fighting style is… unnatural,” Aidan explained. “And when he is nearby, in the breeze I feel a kind of presence… like he is a large rock against the pond that is destiny. He seems to be able to shape it to his own will.”
Meanwhile Saul was led deep underground beneath the Keep into a dank cell infested by rats. The only sunlight that entered came from a small hole in a crack in the roof.
He felt cold as the heavy iron door shut behind him and slowly adjusted his eyes to the darkness.
“Tomorrow you shall be executed,” one of the guard’s said casually before leaving.
In the loneliness, Saul called upon the powers of Distortion and moved his hand against the cell wall. Despite being able to allow small objects such as swords and arrows to pass through him, he was unable to pass through anything as solid and heavy as a wall. Even his power had limits.
He gave a long sigh and then sat against the wall. He closed his eyes and drew upon the darkness that Ryzon had taught him about. And he found himself floating in nothingness, as though he were really there. In the void he focused on his surroundings hard experimenting with this strange world.
“Avenge me!” came a hollow eerie voice.
“Seek vengeance for my son!” came another voice.
For a second Saul thought he was imagining things but soon he heard thousands of voices all calling for some sort of revenge.
He blinked against the dark void and focused on the vast nothingness before him. All of a sudden it was like piercing through the veil of the surface of water. The darkness disappeared and he saw the void as it actually was.
Everywhere he saw hundreds of thousands of lost souls floating around beside him. Their bodies were hollow and emitted a pale light. They were the spirits of those who had died at the Cataclysm of Orr.
Suddenly he realized where his power came from. Comprehension dawned on him. Ryzon had not told him the full details. Saul D’Alessio was the descendent of the kings of Orr and after its destruction, the unavenged souls somehow found him within the void. It was their will and thirst for revenge that gave him such powerful earthly powers. The souls were like a well of unlimited energy that Saul could draw upon to do great feats that no other mortal was capable of.
But at the same time he was haunted.
The thousands of voices seemed to all call to him at the same time.
“Avenge me! Avenge my family!”
The voices in his head overwhelmed his thoughts and in the void they tugged against his soul in all directions pleading and begging him for vengeance.
“Get away! Get away!” he yelled without any words.
And just like that his eyes opened and he was back in his cell once again. A cold sweat covered his back. The battle of Lion’s Arch would soon begin and Saul was stuck in a dark cell, tormented by the spirits within.
storm of daeth
sounds great i can't wait for the battle of lions arch =D
Goats17
Geez, any more chapters like these and I will have3 to start using l337sp33k to convey how good these are. One of the best stoies that I have ever read.
storm of daeth
major bump fell to second page we need more
Goats17
Yes we do, where are you D3kst3r?
storm of daeth
i need my fix if you dont write more soon ill have to start writing angry letters!
Goats17
It's been 10 days D3kst3r, we're getting impatient......................................... ......................
storm of daeth
im gonna send him a message
d3kst3r
Sorry about the delay. Suffered a bit of writer's block lately. And also lots of assignments due.
Sixteen
Darkened clouds began to amass across the sky as a mighty sea of Charr flooded into view over the hilltop. The small walls around Lion’s Arch stood like a fragile barrier ready to be swept away. These walls were unlike those in Ascalon or Arah, they were not built to withstand an invasion. Malan knew this and kept his main army outside to await the onslaught in glorious battle.
The thick dark clouds made the air seem grey with impending death and dread.
“Here lies the final bastion of humanity in Tyria,” snorted Zenn licking the blood off his axe. “We shall break them.”
On the other side of the battle field Malan rode on his horse donned in the finest Krytan armour with an air of arrogance about him. He strutted in front of the assembled army of around a few thousand or so. They were all the fighting men that were able to be tracked down in Kryta, some of them had barely seen bloodshed before.
“We should have died in the Searing,” said Devona whispering amid the nervous clatter of the ranks. “It’s time to pay homage to that.”
“There is no finer death than dying in battle among friends,” replied Aidan.
All throughout Lion’s Arch, the old, the sick, the women and the children were sewing their death beds. Some of them drew swords ready to die fighting with their last ounce of breath. Their homes and their families would be destroyed before them and they knew what had to be done.
Some of the less bold hid themselves in their shops and their homes and barricaded the doors. The harbour was totally deserted, not a single ship that had not left remained. All those that had left had gone with full loads of refugees.
“Look at them,” sneered Zenn. “They’re frightened. I can smell it on their flesh.”
The other Charr began to cheer.
“Whatever happens, know that you have lived a good life,” Malaquire said patting Sergio’s shoulder.
Sergio sighed as he held Frostfell.
“It is a pity that our one hope lies locked up in the dungeons below,” he sighed.
Up ahead, a single drop of rain fell. It glided swiftly until it dropped onto Devona’s cheek. The Charr formation had stopped moving.
“Charge!” Malan ordered in a moment of madness, his troops unsure of what to do. “Charge!” he yelled again as they reluctantly complied.
The Defenders of Kryta surged forwards towards an army than was far greater than their own. The casualties came fast and heavy. Thousands of arrows were exchanged between both sides and lives were lost by the hundreds before a single sword was swung, their corpses lay on the ground like obstacles.
“Draw!” Malan ordered as his troops did so.
Sergio ducked under a Charr axe and rolled forward taking out the legs of another Charr as he did so. Beside him Devona had already become smeared with blood. Mhenlo was frantically healing wounds and trying to prevent nearby troops from dying. The battle was so chaotic that clouds of dust smeared most of the air around them that visibility became quit low. Bodies and limbs were appearing and disappearing out of mists of dust and destruction as the ground became heavier with corpses each moment.
“We’ve lost more than a fifth of our forces!” cried Aidan’s voice out of the mists. “This is madness!”
“We’re not here to win!” replied Devona as she hammered a Charr into the ground.
Currently the line of defenders and the line of Charr had been even and neither lost or gained ground. However for each Charr killed many more would come to take his place whereas the defenders would have no replacements. Over time the defender’s line would be broken by sheer numbers.
Aidan was nocking and firing shots more frantically than he had ever done. His arm became strained by the work and his shots became less and less accurate but over such a short range there was much need for accuracy.
In the far corner of the dusty battlefield he managed to spot a single Charr who was taller than the rest and wore armour lined with gold.
“Devona! Regroup to me!” he yelled as Devona hastily rushed to his side. “Leader,” he pointed.
She knew what to do and without hesitation she rushed him. Aidan took careful aim and fired an arrow into Zenn’s shoulder. The powerful Charr who did not seem to even notice as it killed a Krytan defender by beheading. Aidan quickly fired another arrow and then a third, both of them implanted into the Charr’s torso.
“If we keep this up we’ll all be killed!” Sergio cried.
“Push on!” Malan ordered coldly.
Meanwhile far from the battlefield, in the cold depths under the Keep, Cynn crept silently through the dark passages. The sound of fighting and violence could be heard even in this remote and sealed off place and every step she took, she felt guilty that she wasn’t up there helping the fight. But she had a more important role.
All the guards had gone to fight and the area was deserted. There were the remains of skeletons all over the place where prisoners had died in their cells. These sights gave Cynn a cold chill.
It wasn’t long until she found the cell where Saul D’Alessio was kept. It was by far the easiest to find since she could hear his tortured screams echoing through the prison.
“Saul! Are you alright?” she asked.
“Make them stop!” he cried at the top of his voice. “These voices in my head! The spirits of the Orrians! They will not leave me alone!”
“We’ve got to get you out of here. We’ll all die if you do not join the battle,” she was pleading now.
Within the cell Saul pulled his slumped body off the cold stone and leaned his weight against the door. Try as he might he could not open it.
“Stand back Saul,” ordered Cynn.
Closing her eyes she let the feel of the elements sweep over her. She entered an altered state of consciousness where every single gust of wind seemed visible, every flicker of flame seemed solid, every particle of dirt was fully detailed and every drop of water was alive. Then she took a hold of one of the threads of fire and began to shape it building it bigger and bigger within her palm until it was nearly bursting.
With a deep breath she released the fireball as it hurtled into the door blasting it asunder.
“Saul! Are you ok?” she screamed as the smoke cleared.
Lying on the ground with a face full of cold sweat, Saul struggled to stand.
“The voices… I can barely walk,” he whimpered.
Cynn rushed to his side and helped him up.
“You must fight Saul. If there is any life left in you then you must fight. Otherwise all of Tyria will fall to the Charr. This is our last stand. Right here right now,” her voice was filled with determination.
Saul brushed off the pain within him and for a second seemed to be able to move normally. But in his eyes there was a deep strain.
And in his mind a new voice had emerged among the spirits of the dead. It was the voice of Balthazar himself.
Sixteen
Darkened clouds began to amass across the sky as a mighty sea of Charr flooded into view over the hilltop. The small walls around Lion’s Arch stood like a fragile barrier ready to be swept away. These walls were unlike those in Ascalon or Arah, they were not built to withstand an invasion. Malan knew this and kept his main army outside to await the onslaught in glorious battle.
The thick dark clouds made the air seem grey with impending death and dread.
“Here lies the final bastion of humanity in Tyria,” snorted Zenn licking the blood off his axe. “We shall break them.”
On the other side of the battle field Malan rode on his horse donned in the finest Krytan armour with an air of arrogance about him. He strutted in front of the assembled army of around a few thousand or so. They were all the fighting men that were able to be tracked down in Kryta, some of them had barely seen bloodshed before.
“We should have died in the Searing,” said Devona whispering amid the nervous clatter of the ranks. “It’s time to pay homage to that.”
“There is no finer death than dying in battle among friends,” replied Aidan.
All throughout Lion’s Arch, the old, the sick, the women and the children were sewing their death beds. Some of them drew swords ready to die fighting with their last ounce of breath. Their homes and their families would be destroyed before them and they knew what had to be done.
Some of the less bold hid themselves in their shops and their homes and barricaded the doors. The harbour was totally deserted, not a single ship that had not left remained. All those that had left had gone with full loads of refugees.
“Look at them,” sneered Zenn. “They’re frightened. I can smell it on their flesh.”
The other Charr began to cheer.
“Whatever happens, know that you have lived a good life,” Malaquire said patting Sergio’s shoulder.
Sergio sighed as he held Frostfell.
“It is a pity that our one hope lies locked up in the dungeons below,” he sighed.
Up ahead, a single drop of rain fell. It glided swiftly until it dropped onto Devona’s cheek. The Charr formation had stopped moving.
“Charge!” Malan ordered in a moment of madness, his troops unsure of what to do. “Charge!” he yelled again as they reluctantly complied.
The Defenders of Kryta surged forwards towards an army than was far greater than their own. The casualties came fast and heavy. Thousands of arrows were exchanged between both sides and lives were lost by the hundreds before a single sword was swung, their corpses lay on the ground like obstacles.
“Draw!” Malan ordered as his troops did so.
Sergio ducked under a Charr axe and rolled forward taking out the legs of another Charr as he did so. Beside him Devona had already become smeared with blood. Mhenlo was frantically healing wounds and trying to prevent nearby troops from dying. The battle was so chaotic that clouds of dust smeared most of the air around them that visibility became quit low. Bodies and limbs were appearing and disappearing out of mists of dust and destruction as the ground became heavier with corpses each moment.
“We’ve lost more than a fifth of our forces!” cried Aidan’s voice out of the mists. “This is madness!”
“We’re not here to win!” replied Devona as she hammered a Charr into the ground.
Currently the line of defenders and the line of Charr had been even and neither lost or gained ground. However for each Charr killed many more would come to take his place whereas the defenders would have no replacements. Over time the defender’s line would be broken by sheer numbers.
Aidan was nocking and firing shots more frantically than he had ever done. His arm became strained by the work and his shots became less and less accurate but over such a short range there was much need for accuracy.
In the far corner of the dusty battlefield he managed to spot a single Charr who was taller than the rest and wore armour lined with gold.
“Devona! Regroup to me!” he yelled as Devona hastily rushed to his side. “Leader,” he pointed.
She knew what to do and without hesitation she rushed him. Aidan took careful aim and fired an arrow into Zenn’s shoulder. The powerful Charr who did not seem to even notice as it killed a Krytan defender by beheading. Aidan quickly fired another arrow and then a third, both of them implanted into the Charr’s torso.
“If we keep this up we’ll all be killed!” Sergio cried.
“Push on!” Malan ordered coldly.
Meanwhile far from the battlefield, in the cold depths under the Keep, Cynn crept silently through the dark passages. The sound of fighting and violence could be heard even in this remote and sealed off place and every step she took, she felt guilty that she wasn’t up there helping the fight. But she had a more important role.
All the guards had gone to fight and the area was deserted. There were the remains of skeletons all over the place where prisoners had died in their cells. These sights gave Cynn a cold chill.
It wasn’t long until she found the cell where Saul D’Alessio was kept. It was by far the easiest to find since she could hear his tortured screams echoing through the prison.
“Saul! Are you alright?” she asked.
“Make them stop!” he cried at the top of his voice. “These voices in my head! The spirits of the Orrians! They will not leave me alone!”
“We’ve got to get you out of here. We’ll all die if you do not join the battle,” she was pleading now.
Within the cell Saul pulled his slumped body off the cold stone and leaned his weight against the door. Try as he might he could not open it.
“Stand back Saul,” ordered Cynn.
Closing her eyes she let the feel of the elements sweep over her. She entered an altered state of consciousness where every single gust of wind seemed visible, every flicker of flame seemed solid, every particle of dirt was fully detailed and every drop of water was alive. Then she took a hold of one of the threads of fire and began to shape it building it bigger and bigger within her palm until it was nearly bursting.
With a deep breath she released the fireball as it hurtled into the door blasting it asunder.
“Saul! Are you ok?” she screamed as the smoke cleared.
Lying on the ground with a face full of cold sweat, Saul struggled to stand.
“The voices… I can barely walk,” he whimpered.
Cynn rushed to his side and helped him up.
“You must fight Saul. If there is any life left in you then you must fight. Otherwise all of Tyria will fall to the Charr. This is our last stand. Right here right now,” her voice was filled with determination.
Saul brushed off the pain within him and for a second seemed to be able to move normally. But in his eyes there was a deep strain.
And in his mind a new voice had emerged among the spirits of the dead. It was the voice of Balthazar himself.
Goats17
I am getting so fired up for this next part, I think me and Storm are your greatest fans D3kst3r. Wow, these are some of the greatest stories that I have ever read, and I have read Phillip Pullman, Tolkien, Jules Verne, and (the greatest of the group) D3kst3r. No joke.
storm of daeth
you are by far one of the best authors i have ever read something from and i've read from tom clancy and some others whom i forgot their name lol but for the love of all that is holy write more. and me and goats are youre biggest fans lol
Goats17
5 days and no fix....*shudders*
storm of daeth
if you don't write more soon ill blow up this senior/daycare center! *straps bomb to chest and pushes button* WTF!? ah crap i forgot the triple A's.......
Goats17
I got some.................*hands them over*
Do you have an extra bomb?
Do you have an extra bomb?