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Post by Kalor on Aug 12, 2008 19:43:57 GMT -5
Zhan paused, "Pick up your sword, demon. I will not strike down a defenseless opponent in a duel, not even you." Zhan did however take the time to heal his minor wounds picked up in the duel, and wiped his blade clean on the grass.
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Post by Balthazan the Destoyer on Aug 15, 2008 15:09:33 GMT -5
Balthazan slowly got to his feet. He chuckled as he walked over to where his sword lay. "Honor... heh... Its the only thing you mortals have going for you." He stooped over and grabbed his sword. He turned to face the paladin with his shield raised and began to advance. He swung his blade in a wide upper cut.
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Post by Land Of Zargon on Aug 16, 2008 14:29:36 GMT -5
The world was a swirling mess of powerful magic of both good and evil origins crashing about the land... Or thats how it seemed to Stron. It seems fate dealt a cruel hand to the dragon king, for as Stron (still holding open the doors) gazed across the field you could see all that was unfolding. Great masters of good and evil wove there powerful magics to defeat one another. It became painfully obvious to Stron in that moment that he was not the young drake he once was... And at that moment Stron realized that he had made a grave mistake. All across the field men of all nations fought and died, each depending on the other and every one of them loyal to there lords and to Gorgraz... Stron while trying to lead his people the best he could, while trying to make sure as many as possible survived had made a terrible miscalculation. The doors he had opened where stressing him greatly, but he could not stop for if he did the resulting imbalance would be catosrophic... and there in lies Strons mistake. Stron was old and his once powerful magic reserves had fallen with time and even knowing this he had decided to summon the two most feared doors of all here, where nearly all of Gorgraz had assembled.
"What a fool Ive become..." still concentrating on the doors Stron sent an urgent telepathic message to Tahora. With the speed of sound behind her Tahora speed to her kings side. The great king she knew was in a poor state his lustrous scales where matted and dim, his breathing was growing shallow from the strain of the great doors, but what scared Tahora most of all where her kings eyes. The once lustrous green eyes that shined with deep knowledge where dull and faded. "Yes my liege? What is it?" Stron did not look at her. "Tahora Ive called you because you are my most trusted agent..." Tahora reeled back at the comment then with great pain realized what he meant. Dogin had long been Strons top agent so much so that to everyone it seemed as if Dogin was his adopted son, but now that he was gone... Stron continued "Ive called you here to tell you that your king is a fool." Tahora didn't know where this was going but she listened without interruption. "Ive lived a long time as is our races nature and as king I have done alot of good, but only now do I see how truly foolish I was. I was always so occupied with kingly matters like preserving the balance or looking to the future that I shouldered every problem of the kingdom myself. Never once did I ask for anyone else to help bear the wight of the nation for me, for I thought thats what a king was supposed to do. Only now do I see the truth... That there where always people helping me bear the wight without ever being asked. Agents such as you and Dogin where always there doing the impossible for the good of all. Never once did I personal thank any of you for your selfless deeds, never once. Yet you and Dogin where there to take up the mantle if ever the world needed you... Now he's gone and the world will never see his like again. I blame no one but myself for what happened to Dogin and in my grief I blundered and decided to summon these wretched doors... Now I am nearing my limit and everyone lives are at stake because of me. I'm a horrible king." Tahora shook her head "You are wrong my good king this war was Balthazans doing. You should not blame yourself for what he has caused. Know that if he where here, Dogin would say the same thing." Stron's eyes shifted ever so slightly "Your words are to kind for one such as me to hear, but I still blame myself for Dogin. I have committed a great sin by summoning these doors again." Tahora was shocked by what he said next. "Tahora I must atone for what I have done. I leave you with my last orders to you. Give Dogin the burial only reserved for the greatest of hero's! You and only you can give him such, burn his body and scatter the ashes along the great air currents of Gorgraz! Spread them far and wide with the speed that only you have! His ashes will settle all around Gorgraz and maybe, just maybe the world will be a better place for it."
With that Stron broke his concentration for he could hold it no longer. Storn lept into the air and flew up to the great doors of life and death as they where now beginning to close. With no energy left of his own Stron dug deep within himself to his very life ecenss and brought it forth form within him. Encased in a blinding light Stron sent out two blasts of light so intense that the field was blinded by its ferocity. With that light Stron banished the doors back to where they came from before they could close and with his remaining force he filled the void in power left behind in the doors great wake. The emerald king Stron dissipated in a wash of light, but with his death he saved everyone that was still fighting on that field.
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Post by Realm of Dargath on Aug 16, 2008 19:12:38 GMT -5
The dwarves had been fighting even harder once they found the benefits of the doors of life and death. Many received gruesome wounds, but kept on fighting. The warriors were momentarily blinded by a bright flash of light. When their vision returned, they found large gaps in their lines, where the wounded had fallen dead. Demons began pouring into the gaps causing the dwarves to fall back and regroup.
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Post by Kalor on Aug 16, 2008 22:09:33 GMT -5
Zhan blocked the massive upper cut wit an equally powerful blow, the swords locked, each opponent trying to overwhelm the other to strike the killing blow.
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Post by Balthazan the Destoyer on Aug 18, 2008 8:12:33 GMT -5
Balthazan had took grab his blade with his shield had as well as his sword had to keep from loosing his grip. He would begin to push the old man over backwards, but then he would be pushed over in return. They remained in the delicate balance for what could have been minutes or even hours. Balthazan could feel the end growing near, he could only hope that his performance would please her...
As his concentration began to falter, his hold on the sword became more relaxed. "There is nothing you can do human, if you do not fall here you will fall in time. You will be taken by the darkness and there is nothing your gods can do to stop it."
Balthazan lost the power struggle as Zhan's blade pushed his own, spinning him to one side.
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Post by Kalor on Aug 20, 2008 14:44:55 GMT -5
"Words, my Lord, nothing more." The old Paladin said calmly as his blade came crashing down onto the Demon Lord. He straightened, as the corpse of the great demon fell, it "Is finished.."
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Post by Land of Shadows on Aug 20, 2008 16:44:23 GMT -5
Karon had wasted to much time, the world was starting to fight his full existence in it. Karon roared and increased the intensity of his flames his swings became even mightier as he fought for his existence and against his foe, but at that time Karon felt it... No... its what he didn't feel that made him angry. For at that time the essence of Balthazan dissipated from the field. This sent Karon into a frenzied rage "I was to kill Balthazan!" He roared and the earth shook, his flames burned hotter changing from orange to blue until they burned so hot it gave off a crimson light. The earth he stood upon was turned into a blinding white pile of molten slag under the intense heat. As Karon's presence grew even more powerful the earth itself fought his existence even more, bolts of lighting struck about the giant creature. Every second he remained in his form sent unbearable pain into the dark lords body, but he fought back the pain with a wall of anger, malice, and hatred.
In this, Karons most powerful moment he showed his followers how terribly strong he was by being able to completely enter the world... But it was at this moment when Karon was at his mightiest that Fabador saw how he could defeat his master once and for all. It wouldn't take place today, nor would it tomorrow, but Fabador has seen his masters weakness... Time was on his side, for he would choose when to exploit his masters weakness and take up the mantle of Dark Lord himself.
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Post by Balthazan the Destoyer on Aug 21, 2008 15:44:39 GMT -5
Balthazan's body lay where it had fallen. A dark smoke began to billow forth from the holes in his armor and then the peices of the armor fell away from one another as the body that held them together faded away. The Terror Knights were nowhere to been seen, as though they had never been there. The cloud of smoke lazily drifted east, toward the mountains. As they floated away. An evil laugh echoed through the mind of the paladin.
The demons on the front line that had already engaged in combat kept on fighting, but they had lost their vigor. Some of them started retreating. The ones who had not reached the front line began wondering around the field. They had been reduced to their normal state due to the absents of leadership. They now existed as mere creatures of the dark, running on instinct. A great many of them turned and headed back toward the mountains where they had come from. Some of them, mostly wraith hounds, continued attacking, though they were weaker and their attacks were not coordinated and thus easy to stop.
Balthazan was defeated, Gorgraz was saved. However his defeat had been planed by higher powers...
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Post by Land Of Zargon on Aug 26, 2008 13:09:59 GMT -5
After the battle there where no shouts of victory in the Zargonian camp. Word traveled quickly of there great kings demise, even if the other nations never knew of his sacrifice they would always know and hold it within there hearts. Medical teams ran all across the lines tending to those with dire wounds first and putting those to far gone out of there misery with a passing prayer. All around the camp soldiers waited to be told what to do, many morned for fellow soldiers, many morned for there lost king, and others mourned lost friends.
An old gray furred Skrieve walked about the camp giving advice, orders, and encouragement to the troops with his wisdom. He was Viscar the Skrieve peoples leader. Now Viscar stood looking out across the field wondering what would happen next he was not alone for long, as a slender black Grogowen joined him. Viscar turned to face his old friend "Kallen I see your in one piece." Kallen smiled "And here I was worrying your heart would stop in the middle of the fight you oldfur." They both forced a laugh out despite the carnage around them, as they stopped the both gazed out at the field. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us don't we Viscar?" The old wolf solemnly nodded his head. "We must see that our dead are given the proper respects and that the remaining troops get home." Kallen gazed at the camp few people where in high spirtes for all had lost someone they knew. "We all knew there would be great risks going into this battle and that if we failed here all of Gorgraz would die with us, but now that its over its easy to loss sight of that victory with all that we've lost to gain it." Viscar let out a sigh. "As always you think to much if you would see to the preparations for our departure." She gave a nod then walked off and as she did Viscar watched her go. It was still hard to think of her as the leader of the Grogowen people.
Everywhere troops where preparing to move out some loaded equipment while others dealt with there fallen comrades, but of to the side of the army a group of people assembled. They all stood with solemn faces as more of there members came to join them among them Tahora strode forward. "Fellow agents... This battle was a success and the balance should swing back into place, but we cannot forget those among us who have fallen." An elderly Skrieve stepped forward and looked at the gathering faces "We have lost a great deal of our members today... We must honor there memories and build there funeral pyres here upon the field in which they fell. Each of them are our brothers and sisters and because of that I wish for each of you to pay your respects once the pyres are light." The old Skrieve turned to look at a line of body's that they had laid out, each was a fellow agent that needed to be put to rest. The others followed his sight to the body's and no one spoke for a long moment until the old Skrieve broke the silence. "Attend the pyries... Put our friends to rest." The crowd broke up and went to the task of building there friends final bed. After all had been built it was time to light them... Those closest to the fallen where charged with lighting the pyres and putting there friends to rest, it was a dreadful business filled with sadness and tears. Joe lifted Dogins body and placed it in a dignified fashion upon his pyrie... Large tears ran like rivers down the mighty giants face his thoughts where a jumble of the past adventures with his friend muddled with the regrets of the present and finally the hopes of a future that would never be. Tahora being the second closest friend of Dogins stood by the pyre and watched, as Joe's body shook from his tears and sadness she felt helpless to do anything about it. Tahora felt like her insides where in a knot as she tried to fight back the tears that welled up inside. She was brought back to the real world as Joes hand grasped her shoulder she looked up at his tear streaked face. "Its ok Tahora... Dogins not here to judge you for your tears." Tahora cried like she hadn't done since she was a young drake in the academy, she buried her face into Joes furry chest. "Why Joe? Why would..." All other words became drowned out by her tears. Joe didn't have an answer... No... There was no answer to such a question.
(Hey sam you want to post and get Calana here? Or is she unable to move? In which case I'm going to modify this post and light the pyres.)
Characters
Viscar has been leader for awhile now. Before he was made leader he became a seasoned general upon being made leader of his people that experience help him greatly aid his country. Viscar has detached himself from personal worry and now only thinks about his country and what he can do to make it better, to some he may seem cold or standoffish but don't be fooled he is as wise as they come and one of the most dedicated people in Zargon.
Kallen (yes its a female Grogowen... Big shocker there eh?) was made leader only four years ago. Before that she was a child of the Strong fist tribe. A womens roll in the Grogowens race is often overlooked for they do not go to war often, but it is often said that a Grogowen female in heat is one of the scariest sights in all of Gorgraz. So when Kallen competed to become the Hardfists champion many laughed thinking she would be unable to do such especially at such a young age. But in true Grogowen fashion she let her fists do the talking by becoming not only the Hardfist champion but the Grand champion! That was eight years ago (Champion tournaments are held every four years which means this years are about to start) after four years of being grand champion she had proven herself not only as a capable warrior but as a suitable leader of the Grogowen people, so when it came time for the old leader Borgoran to step down he and his council decided that Kallen had what it took to be leader. Few questioned his decision as many of the Grogowen people grew to respect Kallens position and power, so before the next champion tournament (the one that made Joe Grand champion) Borgoran proclaimed Kallen leader over the Grogowens. Under her rule the Grogowen people have thrived, but there are some that question her strength in battle. This is because she did not compete in the tournament four years ago, because of that many of the younger generation have forgotten the strength she displayed and are growing bolder in there dreams and there ambitions. (Joe though he harbors no ill will toward Kallen does wish he had the opportunity to fight her all those years ago... The ruler cannot be the Grand Champion so he cannot compete.)
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Post by Jonok Coldfury on Aug 28, 2008 0:36:24 GMT -5
Konoj roared in anger as his prey scattered in all directions. He threw the demon head to the ground as he stumbled in a clumsy pursuit. The ale had made him quick and agile, but only when his feet were firmly planted in one spot. When moving, the effects of the ale were highly counter productive. Soon the demons were too far away to purse. Konoj began laughing as he slid Frostwater back into its sheath. What's so funny, Konoj? Konoj's laughter died down. "I can't wait to see how you deal with my ale, Jonok, thats whats so funny." A concussion spread out from him, disturbing the snow and dirt. Jonok was himself again. He immediately began to sway. He quickly pulled his staff from its sheath and used it as a walking stick. Even with the added support, walking was a chore. Some of the soldiers rushed out to him to help him back.
They sat him down within the boundary of the camp. As soon as he had situated himself comfortably, he began to dish out orders. He sent men in all directions with orders for various sections of the army. Some of them were sent to begin gathering the dead to prepare them for the journey home. Others were to prepare an expedition to the gateway that had released the plague of evil onto the land. The purpose of the expedition was to seal the gateway again, hopefully for good.
Meanwhile, in the Guardian's tent, Dran was nervously twitching as he sat beside the bed of the still unconscious Calana Swiftpaw. I had been hours since the healers had left, but she still hadn't moved. Dran was brooding over what it could mean. "Will she ever wake up? Will she be the same person? Is only her guardian spirit left? As he fidgeted, he sat with his face only a few inches from hers, watching for any hint of movement. Waiting. Suddenly she sat up and in a loud, commanding voice she shouted, "NO!" nearly knocking Dran over backwards in suprise. It wasn't a scream, nor was it a command. It was something in the middle. The heavy cloth that had been laid across her eyes was now draped across her muzzle, though it still covered her eyes. "Milady, please don't..." Before Dran could finish she seized the cloth and ripped it away from her face. She gasped. Nothing. She could see nothing. Her eyes felt extremely dry and irritated. Her hands were hurting as well. As she flexed them in front of her face, trying to see them, she could feel them tensing up. By touch she could tell they were wrapped in bandages. "What's happened?" she asked to the darkness around her. Dran stood and stepped around so that he was infront of her. "Whos there? I can hear you moving!" "It's alright, milady, It Dran, the Quartermaster. You passed out after you created that column of fire. The healers tended to you , but weren't sure if you would make it." As Dran spoke, Calana was carefully rubbing her eyes. "I should go find them and tell them you are awake. Your father will want to know too." "No!" she said in much the same tone as she had used when she sat up. "But mil..." "No." she said much more softly. She felt around for the bandage that had been laid across her face. She finally found it with a little assistance from Dran. She pulled it tightly across her eyes and tied it behind her head. The bandage was the perfect size and shape for such a use. "The healers must have known I would be... like this." she though to herself, not even wanting to voice what she was in her own head.
She swung her legs off the bed, which sent Dran into worry. "Milady, What are you doing? you need to stay in bed." Calana turned her head toward the sound of his voice. "Dran, call me Calana. I will have a long time to rest. There are some things that cannot wait. I need to see him." "Who?" "The one you carried away for me." She said as she painfully rose to her feet. Her whole body ached and she was tired, but she wasn't going to rest. She knew that armies quickly dealt with their dead if they did at all and that, if she wasn't already too late, she would have to move quickly if she was to make it. She held out her hand in front of her. "Guide me." "Milady, I don't think..." "Quartermaster, unless you truly want to anger me, you will do as I ask now, not later. If you do not do this, I will never forgive you. Do you understand?" Dran didn't answer, he just hesitantly took her hand and led her out of the tent.
It was cold outside, it felt wonderful on her hands, which, she was beginning to realized, had been burned by Firewind. She tried not to think about where she was going, not because of who was there, but because of what it would mean. She wanted to see Dogin off, but at the same time, to say goodbye is to say goodbye. It would be difficult, but she was strong. She had been strong for him before, she would be strong for him now, and she would be strong for him always. Other emotions and thoughts swam through her mind as well. Thoughts about her eyes, her father, the families of the dead, of Joe, of the other agents. She did not think about the fighting because she had determined through the absents of the sounds of war that the battle was over. They were sill alive so they must have won. Dran led her through the White Sash's camp and into the Zargonian camp. It took him a while, but he found the place where he had left Dogin's body. "Well, mila... Calana, I left him here, but he's gone." Calana bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears that had built up more and more with each step. "What's going on around us?" she asked as she tried to determine what sounds were what. "They're building funeral pyres." "Do you see him on one of those?" Dran strained to see the ones who were prepared to the funeral fires. "There I see him." "GO!" Calana shouted. Dran darted off, pulling her along. She was having difficulty running. She would often trip or stumble, but her determination kept her from falling. Dran slid to a stop beside the pyre and grunted in disappointment. "I'm sorry, milady, I was wrong. This isn't him." Calana's shoulders sank. The tears began to slip through. She wouldn't get to say her good byes, to honor him one last time. She began to shake and sniffle. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying to regain herself, and thats when she smelled him. She sniffed again. He was near. She still had a hold on Dran's hand so she began dragging him along as she followed the trail. She could also smell Joe's scent. She began moving faster and faster. Soon she was in an all out sprint. She had to get there before the fire was started. It seemed like everything would be ok if she could just get there before the fire was lit. It seemed like by getting there before the fire started, Dogin would still be alive. She could smell smoke and hear fires, she knew that other pyres had been lit. She was getting closer, she could smell it and she could feel it in her gut. She stopped dead in her tracks.
The scent was strong now. She had to be only feet from him. She could sense his presents. She could also sense Joe. She dropped Dran's hand and began feeling her way forward, with her hands outstretched in front of her. She had to be close... she had to be...
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Post by Land Of Zargon on Aug 28, 2008 9:57:46 GMT -5
Joe turned at the sound of someone approaching, as he turned he saw what looked like Calana but she was heavily bandaged and her eyes where covered. Joe sagged his shoulders for it was a great loss for her too. Joe tried to still his shaking voice as he approached, but before he could get to her Tahora stopped him. Admitting he was not up to such a task Joe to a few steps back and watched his friend through tearing eyes. Tahora approached Calana "I.. I'm sorry Calana... When your finished I must light the pyre." Not knowing what else to say Tahora backed off and looked down the line of pyres. The snow had left all the timber in the area damp and wet, but that didn't matter too much because Dragoths used there own flames to start the pyres. Few things burn hotter than that of a Dragoths flame. Many of the pyres where being lit and those that had attended to them paid there respects and began to walk to other pyres to pay there last respects to them as well. All down the line soldiers and agents alike put there friends to rest, with them went many tears, many regrets, many hopes, and many dreams. But the war was over... A victory for all of Gorgraz had accrued, so then why did it not feel like such a victory?
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Post by Jonok Coldfury on Aug 28, 2008 23:42:10 GMT -5
Calana recognized the feminine voice. She recognized it, it was the Dragoth she had met with Dogin on the mountain. She could also hear Joe. She didn't know how she knew it was him she was hearing, but she knew. She slowly took steps forward, feeling her way toward the pyre. She had no idea how close she was. Suddenly her foot hit something solid. She slowly moved her hands until they hit something as well. It was the pyre. She hesitantly felt her way across the top of the sticks and logs until her hand found flesh. It was his hand. She felt her way up his arm, past the shoulder, to his neck. She lifted her hand and found his muzzle and face. She said nothing because she was having to bite her lip to keep it from quivering. She placed her head near Dogin's, just being near him again was calming, but she knew this would be the last time. The tears began to soak into the bandage that covered her eyes. Soft whimpers escaped her lips. The longer she held it in, the more it hurt and the more the emotions tried to escape. She began to tremble as she placed her forehead against his cheek. The emotion continued to well up inside her. She threw her head back and howled to the sky, a loud mournful howl, one that could pierce even the hardest of hearts. She took comfort in believing Dogin had heard her, and, though she couldn't hear him, he was howling back. As she lowered her head, her howl gave way to deep sobbing. She buried her face in the crook of her arm, which was resting on the pyre. She let herself cry for a moment and then began to force herself to stop. She was sniffling when she lifted her head again. "I'll see you again one day, on your side of the river." she whispered in his ear. She gently kissed his forehead and then stepped back. "Goodbye." she whispered.
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Post by Land Of Zargon on Aug 29, 2008 1:15:23 GMT -5
Joe sat motionless as he watched his friend for what would be the last time. Tahora walked to the foot of the pyre and looked at Dogin for the last time. "Goodbye friend." Joe echoed her "Goodbye..." With that Tahora breathed deeply and blew forth her blazing inner fire to light Dogins pyre. The flames burned hot and fast despite the dampness of the wood and Dogin was sent off to the world beyond in the style fit for an agent of Zargon. Both Tahora and Joe sat there and watched there friend off... They had no one else to pay respects too. Among the agents they where the only ones left of there generation, all the older agents had retired and there was to far of a gap between them and they younger generation to form any kind of bond. "With Dogin goes the best among us..." Joe mumbled to himself Tahora nodded in agreement with him. Both Joe and Tahora held no tears back when it came to remembering Dogin...
After the fire went out only ashes remained normally the agents would put them into some form of vase and either give them to family or place them among the hall of hero's in Zargon. That wasn't the case with Dogin... Stron had made it very clear what Tahora was to do with his ashes, it was one of Strons last orders to her. Tears fell as she gathered up the ashes "I go to complete the late kings last orders... To spread Dogins ashes far across Grograz along the great wind currents of the sky, so that maybe the world would be better for it..." Joe through teary eyes nodded his acceptance "That sounds like something he would have liked. He always did love the wind." Tahora picked up the vase that held her friends ashes and as she prepared to take off Joe piped in. "Tahora... Gods speed." Tahora nodded then flexed her wings upward and redyed herself for take off. With large flaps of her mighty wings she ascended to the sky sending a gust of wind in all directions. Soon she was high above the ravaged field the snow field clouds would make flying hard, but for Dogins sake and for Strons she would blaze a path thorough the sky. Joe watched as she picked up speed heading east to the start of the eastern air stream, before she left sight Joe could see the ripple as she broke the sound barrier and he could also see that she began to glow from the heat she generated from such speed. She navigated the air as if the sky where her own backyard and soon she found the beginning of the eastern air current. At the extreme speed that she was moving the slightest movement of the body could be disastrous, so first she was forced to slow down enough so that she could make a hole in the vase so tiny that only a little of the ash could come out at any one time... No matter the speed. With that she regained her speed and flew with the eastern current, with her incredible speed she flew along the eastern current until it became the central current. She made several laps of the central current because it was the main air stream of Gorgraz it was the largest and blew to almost every corner of the continent overlapping all the others in several spots. With Dogins ashes spread to the great winds of Gorgraz Tahora decided to return to the field and aid her fellow soldiers. Tahora looked around before setting off at another breakneck pace "Fly far and true Dogin... May you forever watch over this land and all the people within it. Goodbye dear friend."
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Post by Jonok Coldfury on Aug 29, 2008 2:05:01 GMT -5
Calana stood in silence as Tahora started the fire. As the fire burned, she stood straight and tall. She began to hum the Song of the Widow, a song sung by a wife to her late husband. It could also be sung by a husband to his late wife, but is then referred to as the Song of the Widower. Her eyes had dried, the tears no longer came. The sniffling had stopped. A small trickle of happiness began to flow back into her heart, for she knew deep inside that Dogin had finally moved on to a place where he could take the rest he had earned in life. "One day... one day we will be together again. One day..." A hint of a smile spread across her face as memories of the past came back to her, memories of the good times, and thoughts of when she would go to join him. She slowly backed away as the fire grew in intensity. She stood until the fire had taken its course. She wished she could have seen Tahora take off and fly into the distance. She did hear the concussive boom as the Dragoth shot off over the horizon. She turned to where she thought Joe was and took a step forward. She lowered her head as she tried to think of a way to comfort him. She knew he had to feel something like how she felt because he had known Dogin for so long. She lifted her head and held out a hand. "Take care, Joe... May Gorgraz guide you."
In the distance, the White Sash was preparing the dead for the journey home. The bodies were burned under the watchful eye of mages. Soon the carefully constructed fires died out, leaving nothing but the slightly scorched bones. These bones were wrapped in the sash of their former owners. On the sash was the warriors family crest and name, making them identifiable. A large wagon had been pulled onto the field through the portway and the wrapped bones were placed on board. They would be taken back to Cornar, where they would be ground into bone powder either by the priests or by family members. Then the bone powder would be taken in vases and urns to the Circle of Sentinels by the family of the fallen warrior. There, the powder would be spread amongst the ground remains of their ancestors.
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Post by Realm of Dargath on Aug 31, 2008 11:35:47 GMT -5
The dwarves began to cheer as the demon horde fell into disarray. They were rolling out kegs of ale before the last of the cursed creatures had disappeared into the distant forest. The sharp shooters continued to pick off their enemy as they made their retreat.
Tarn stood on the platform, leaning forward against the rail. It was only now that the full reality of what he had done hit him. He had killed the dwarven king... who had no heir. He may have saved his people during the war, but in the aftermath, Tarn was afraid he may have brought about an age that would be the darkest in the history of the dwarves. He watched them men as they drank and sang to the victory, totally oblivious to what the future could hold. Steps would have to be taken, steps to prevent them from breaking apart at the seems...
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Post by Land Of Zargon on Sept 1, 2008 19:09:05 GMT -5
"May Gorgraz guide us all..." Came the response of Joe who gazed up at the cloud filled sky. "Were sure going to need it without Dogin to light the way... He's gone now I know he is, but somehow I feel as if he's still here watching us." Joe contemplated his thought for a moment before giving out a sigh. "No matter how dark the path got along our journeys Dogin was always there to light the way... Together we could go anywhere do anything, but now he's gone and nothing will ever fill the void left behind in his wake..." Joe gave another long drawn out sigh a sigh filled with emotion, then suddenly he gave a small chuckle. "If he where here now he would have smacked me good by now... I wonder if he's watching now, and if he is would he be laughing at us? Or would he cry with us?... I don't think Dogin would laugh at us right now, nor do I think he would cry with us over his own death. Thats just who Dogin was..."
The tears where starting to cease flowing from Joe's face... Though he had cried for his friend the true weight of his friends death wouldn't hit Joe until later, for now it just felt as if this was all one of Dogins bad jokes. Like at any moment he would come hoping down from one of the trees with some silly grin spread across his muzzle... Joe knew that wasn't true, but he still couldn't grasp the concept that he was truly gone. For weeks after this incident Joe will probably still make a second helping at breakfast, or call to ask Dogin something... Only to remember that his friend is gone. Forever...
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Post by Kalor on Sept 6, 2008 17:19:56 GMT -5
The battle was over, the Field of Full Spectrum was littered with the bodies of the soldiers of Good, Neutral and Evil. The remaining demons were in full rout, the allied forces of Gorgraz, however, were to tired to pursue. Karon, Lord of the Shadows, sighed the evil sigh of creature who’s bloodlust was sated. “Your taste for blood surely isn’t sated yet, Shade King?” Said a silky smooth voice in Karon’s ear. “My Lord Fabian,” Karon said bowing. A mist materialized in front of the Shade King coalescing into a well dressed elven noble. “My dear Shade Lord, the killing isn’t done yet, look, enemies still yet live.” His fine elven finger pointed to the diminished Kalorian force across the field. The new paladins were tending the wounded and standing watch. Their white robes and mirthril breastplates sparkled in the light. Karon looked to the paladins and the Kalorin army, then back to his dark master. If that is what you wish then it shall be done. Fabian smiled. "Good then all is settled...My elves are already trying to establish a foothold on the cursed Kalorian’s coast and the goblins and orcs are organizing. Togeather we will crush the blot of Light that is Kalor!” “Yes, Mi’Lord…”
Zhan Silvermane stood with the Ten of the Twelve that still lived. “You are to be king then?” “No,” The silver haired man said. “There is yet one who lives of Kalana’s Bloodline, she, not I, wilt inherit the throne of Kalor. But we must hurry back with all haste to help the Home Guard repel this Elven incursion into Kalor.” Zhan then noticed a figure walking towards them. “Ah, Master Jonok, welcome!” The huge Cereashan Guardian towered over Zhan, but the Ten could look him in the face. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything, supplies, healing, anything of that nature. My men will be moving out soon and I didn’t want to leave without making sure everyone was taken care of.” The Guardian said. “No, I thank thee. We are almost done here, but thine generosity is recognized and I…” He was interrupted by the yelp of alarm that came from the human sentries. “The Shadow are attacking!” Came one voice over the din of screams of alarm. The few remaining sergeants began screaming “To Arms!!” The remaining regulars took up positions and formed ranks. The white robed paladins responded as well, organizing and charging into the oncoming Urgals before even the first of the regular units had organized. “Kimber slay me!” Zhan shouted. “Marshall Brand, organize the counter attack, I shall lead the Ten and join our paladin brothers! Master Jonok, we will be needing the White Sash and the Zargonians, please!” Before the two men could answer he was gone, charging the Shadow army. Jonok nodded to the Marshall and jogged away to his army.
The Zargonian army looked to the sounds of battle as the Kalorian people did battle with those from the Land of Shadows. Many took up arms and prepaired to advance, many others followed there actions... But then on one of the remaining battlements a voice shouted out. "Cease and be still my brothers!" Those below looked up at the figure. The Skrieve leader Viscar... "We cannot help the Kalorians... Not today." A group of younger recruits started to protest. "We cant sit and do nothing! Yea we have to do something!" Before anymore could say anything Viscar spoke. "We are in no postion to aid the Kalorians, nor can we even if we where!" Older soldiers understood his meaning, but the young where still no ready to quite. "But still!" Before anymore could be said Kallen spoke up. "Hold your tounges! We all wish to help them..." Kallen looked at the ground a look of helplessness on her face. "Attend to our wounded... See to the preperations for departure, any further talk of this will be delt with harshly." One of the bolder recurits was about to speak, but Kallen gave a spoke again. "Move!" Agents that had already put there friends to rest started to move about and follow orders, the more expericance soldiers followed suit, then the younger recurits started to move turning there back on those that needed them. All did what they where told and all where sadend...
In the heavens, in the Temple of Twilight, where the Quorum of Twilight meets Zargon sat on his throne, surrounded by the other Lords of Twilight. "There is nothing to discuss." Said Zargon to end a previous conversation. "The balance has shifted... It has already been decided, there is nothing to discuss." Though Zargon turned away... None could miss the tears in his eyes.
The humans were dying, the were outnumbered, they were falling like leaves in autumn. The paladins were walking arsenals of Palador’s Wrath, Edon the Honorable had a shade in one hand squeezing the evil out of it, and the other grasped a golden flaming hammer that was currently pounding the daylights out of another Shade. A third jumped on his back, seeking to bring the big man down. Tossing away the Shade in his hand like a rag-doll, Edon grabbed the other and wrung its neck with a roar. “Fifteen! Fifteen of you have died by my hands!” He turned and saw fifteen more, all heading his way. With speed and grace, the White Sash flowed like a silver sea through the lines of the Kalorians. They soon made the front lines and began to bolster the out-numbered, weary ranks. It had taken them a long time to move out because many of them had already removed their armor and weapons, they had also been spread out over a large area, tending to the fallen. Even with the help of the White Sash and the scant Elves of the Erodrean there was no way to withstand the onslaught of Urgals and Shades. Edon the Honorable had fallen, and to give the troops more time Gulio and his brother Amaril had given the ultimate sacrifice, they allowed their bodies to become conduits of the Pantheon’s holy energies incinerating the Shadow, holding them back, but in the end incinerating themselves. The Kalorians ran. The White Sash backed off, hoping they had not invoked war between the Shadow army and themselves. The army of Kalor limped back into their home nation, expecting to find it overrun by Elves. They were wrong. The paladins in training left at home had risen to combat this threat and had realized their full potential, a mere five hundred paladins leading a combined army of no more than five thousand had driven the ten thousand odd invasion force away. Now begins the story of Kalor’s biggest military buildup of all time. With the hitherto unknown Adrie Steele installed as the youngest ruler of Kalor, a scant sixteen years old, Kalor prepared for the war to come. With every man capable of wielding a sword armed, and with a full force of paladins at her disposal, Kalor seemed to posses the power to weather this storm. They never expected what happened next. The Elves and Shadow signed a treaty, and they enticed the goblins and orcs to join their ranks, essentially uniting the forces of evil. Town after city after fortress fell to the exorable force of darkness. The Forces of Kalor and the few remaining Erodrean fought valiantly against the Forces of Evil, but for every victory there were several defeats, they moved to defend Capital City fielding the strongest force Kalor had ever seen, in excess of five hundred thousand men at arms, paladins, priests, and war-wizards.
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Post by Jonok Coldfury on Sept 7, 2008 0:51:31 GMT -5
Calana's ears perked up as the comotion began. "Dran, what's going on?" Dran shook his head as he looked down the field. "The last thing this world needs now. More war." "The demons?" "No, mila... Calana. The Shadow has turned against Kalor." Calana began to shift the information around in her mind. "So the White Sash will help. But those from Zargon... cannot. Why must the ways of the world be so cruel?" She stood listening as the first sounds of battle reached them. "You may take me back to the tent, Dran." Dran blinked in disbelief. "You don't want to go and fight, milady?" he asked in as much of a mocking tone as the situation would allow. Calana sighed heavily before responding. "I would be no use on the front. And I have caused you enough hardship. I will do as I am told. I will go and rest." She held out a hand, and Dran quickly took it, as though he were afraid she would change her mind.
They made their way through the Zargonian camp. Calana could hear the younger soldiers cursing the Balance, saying they should be fighting, but she also heard them doing what they were told as they said these things.
The creashian camp was nearly empty and very quiet, as most of those able to fight had gone to aid the humans. The only sound was the soft crackle of the snow falling. She had Dran stop so she could scoop up some of the snow into a ball. She held it loosely in her free hand as they started off again. The ice felt wonderful on her hand.
She sat down on the cot as soon as they entered the tent. The wound from the arrow had begun to throb slightly just before they entered the tent. Taking her weight off the leg helped, but it was still uncomfortable. She carefully pulled her legs back onto the cot and laid her head on the pillow. Many questions floated through her mind.
Calana Swiftpaw had gained many wounds from the Demon War, some would heal completely, others would leave scars and give her pain for a long time. But she would always be strong. She would be strong for the one who was strong for everyone else. For the one who died fighting for people he would never see, who died to protect life. She would be strong for the only person she truly cared for with the very core of her being. She would forever be strong for the one called Dogin Hood.
The White Sash fought until they humans began to retreat. They were pulling out, heading home. The creashian warriors fell back as well. They returned to their camp and cautiously continued the work they had dropped when the fighting had started. The expedition left on its mission and returned several days later having successfully closed the gateway and sealed it with powerful magic. Then they collapsed the cavern and the tunnel leading to it, hoping to stop the cursed place from being found again. The White Sash pulled out of the field, leaving it as it had been. Soldiers were sent into Kalor to help aid the humans, but the cereashian numbers were too few and too late. It had been over a week since the Shadow army had turned on the humans when the first group of soldiers left Cornar to aid Kalor. There was nothing the protectors of Gorgraz could do. They were a dying race. They did not have the numbers to keep peace between the great nations. Once again, the cereashian nation began to fade into the background, saving what little strength it had left in hopes that it would be of use again one day, that one day they would take their place in the world again as true protectors, taking up the full role the gods had charged them with.
"One day..." Jonok muttered, drumming his fingers on his desk, "One day we will regain the respect we once had. One day..." He looked down at the drying in on the pages before him. After testing how dry it was, he closed the book and ran his fingers across the golden lettering of the title The Third Demon War. Beneath the grand golden letters, in a modest black ink and simple lettering, were the words "By Jonok Coldfury Strongskull." He slowly stood, lifting the book as he did. He stepped over to a book shelf and slid it into the space beside The Demon Wars. "One day the killing will stop. I only hope someone is still alive to enjoy it."
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Post by Land Of Zargon on Sept 8, 2008 21:32:53 GMT -5
The Zargonian army packed there things and prepared for the long trip home. Kallen and Viscar stood looking over the preparations. "Do you think we should talk with any of the other races?" Viscar looked at Kallen then looked out over the field and shook his head. "You mean those that are left? No... If they wished to talk they would have done so... Besides we have our own problems." Viscar looked back at the troops. "There all down because they couldn't help Kalor..." Kallen nodded her head with a sad sigh. "Strons dead... Whats going to happen Viscar?" Viscar swished his tail around as he thought of a response. "We will return home and bring the news of both a victory and a defeat... The Dragoth sages will search for a future king. It is now our duty to shoulder the responsibility's of the Dragoths leader... Or at least until the new king is decided and becomes accustomed to his new duty's."
Kallen was silent for awhile, then she looked up at the sky as the gentle snow fell down. "The tournament isn't far off..." Viscar looked over at her. "You worried about it?" She shook her head. "Its not so much the tournament that has me worried, but the younger generations partaking in it... Many recently have started to doubt my strength to lead." Viscar stood silent now swishing his tail back and forth. "Well I can only see a few options for you..." He smiled slightly. "None of which suit you." She turned to him. "O really? And what would those be?" He continued. "Either you remind them of your strength..." Kallen shook her head. "No... I cant do that it would be bad for me to undermine the champions new title..." Viscar nodded "I thought as much. Well then I suppose you could submit." He said this with a sarcastic tone. Kallens burning eyes where answer enough. "Fine fine..." Viscar said as he thought some more, the next idea he got made him chuckle a bit witch upset Kallen. "What now?" Viscar got stopped chuckling "O its nothing another idea just came to me... But theres no way you could pull it off." Kallen responded with a stern womanly attitude that Viscar knew she would. "O? And what cant I possible do?" Viscar looked over slyly at her. "Well you could find yourself a personal champion... Someone who's strength was unquestioned by all and..." He didnt get to say more, for Kallen was red with both embarrassment and anger. "Thats out of the question! What makes you think I need a man to help me!..." Then she thought about it for a moment. "What do you mean I cant pull that off?" Even the old strict Viscar was laughing at that. "It was only a joke Kallen I know you don't need another person to help you..." Kallen was stood silently. "Hey now don't be like that..." Kallen cut him off. "Its true though... Theres no way I myself could attract a mate. They would all be lured by the title of king." Viscar now regretted what he had said. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure theres someone out there..." The conversations that followed where all distant with each of them thinking over there own problems. Kallen was deep in thought over the upcoming tournament and over Viscars comment, even if it was a joke... Was it true? Meanwhile Viscar was thinking about the future of his country and his role in maintain it.
Everything was ready and the Zargonian army started there long slow trek out of the field and back home. The weeks and months that followed life in the Land of Zargon returned to normal. Viscar was kept busy by the amount of work thrust upon him with Strons death. Kallen was also kept busy by such work, but she had to prepair for the tournament that was drawing closer. The Dragoth people where in lament for there lost king while the Dragoth sages searched for a fitting replacement. Someone with the skills required to be king, someone that would become a good leader of there people and take on the responsibility's of such a title.
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