Flame of Aaerna: Chapter I

[Elrol]

Ok, the RP now begins, my say goes, not to sound like a butthole. Please play by the rules, don't godplay, or act as if you are the unstoppable invicible, all powerful character who can be done no harm. Stay to the rules and we'll all have fun. I'd also like to add that i'll be playing my character Elrol along with you all, but i'll keep things fair, and play him as if he knows not much more than the rest of you, you have my word.Remember what I said in the sign up thread, and have fun! Here we go!!!!!!!!

 

[PROLOGUE]

 

The world is old, older than many who live now will ever dream to imagine. Ancient forces of times past stalk the earth still. An unseen shadow grows as each day passes. Time is now more precious than all the treasures of the Dwarven halls.

 

The leaves of Fall can be found now; reds and yellows dotted among the greens of summer past. The elves of Thorien Vale ready themselves for the winter ahead. The dwarves within their mountain halls know not of the season, they are too busy with their mining and treasure seeking. To the west Procurian farmers reap in some of the last of their crops, storing up for the winter ahead. It is a time of change, and a time of fun. For it is in the fall when the harvest festival begins in Mryn. People from afar come each year to partake in the festivites. Strong man competitions, booths of all sorts of foreign goods, and foods of every variety are among a few of the attractions that draws the crowds. But this year, will be a bit different...

 

[CHAPTER I]

 

---King Ronan suffered another night plaqued by the same forboding nightmare, one in which he chased the same illusive flame only to see it exstinguished as he neared it. Waking in a cold sweat, he shot straight up in bed, still panting from the dreadful ordeal. When woud he stop?, he thought. He was growing so very weary of this tantalizing event that came upon him every night as he lay down to rest; hoping for a peaceful, nightmare free, night. Now that he thought about it, it hadn't been this bad a fortnight ago, occuring randomly through the week, but lately it had been happening everytime he dozed off. With such a lack of sleep, he was growing ever so tired, and ever so longful for just a bit of uninterrupted sleep. Just the previous morning he had dozed off while listening to the new taxation policies and their reprocutions, only to be prodded awake by a very disgruntled looking advisor. He had refused to admit it for a long while, but this problem's growing intensity was beginning to interer with his responsibilities as king of Mryn. Something had to be done and soon, though he had been very reluctant to come to this conclusion since the odd dreams had began weeks ago. Tommorrow he would call the town Seer to his halls to try to make sense of it all, and perhaps lay rest to this nightly event. Yes, tommorrow, it would finally come to an end, he thought.

 

He lay back on his pillow and stared up at his bed's canopy, as it slowly blurred away, and he was off asleep yet again. Moments later, he shot up in bed again, but this time not from a nightmare, he had heard something. There was a sound, and feeling coming from outside his window. He lept from the bed, still in his night gown and marched over to the window, his senses tingling.

 

Below Mryn was layed out like a tapestry of twinkling lights, all intricately weaved into their place over the years since the reforming of the Procurian Empire. The city seemed well, King Ronan could find nothing amis, nothing out of the ordinary. He gazed down the ivy strangled wall below and saw noone within on the castle lawn or on any of the nearby turrets or ledges. He made way to go back to bed, but just as he did something caught his eye. It was not a gleam or a glimmer. It was instead a bit of darkness, precariously out of place.

 

Along the east wall, there was nothing but dark, but a full moon glowed brightly above. There were no trees, or obstructions to stop the moon's rays from striking the east wall, yet as he looked harder it was as pitch as the bottom of an ale barrel. And he stared at it, with curiousity, wondering how such a feat was being acheived, and at the same time a pit of fear arose within him. He watched it carefully, eyeing it with interest, and then just as sudden as he had spotted it, it grew. It overtook the east guard tower, and the guard lamps went black. Then, yet again it grew it was now over the East wall and inside the city walls, lamps and lights being snuffed out in its path. The King spun to the the West, scanning for any signs of entry by the mysterious darkness on that side. Another patch of darkness now closed in on the west side aswell, yearning to meet it's brother on the east side of town. Torchlamps continued to go out, making a darkened pathway toward the town's center, and then mergin in the center and heading south, toward the castle gates. And although every inch of his body told him to run, he was rooted to the spot. He gazed, unable to turn his away from the ominous scene unfolding before his eyes. With every moment it grew closer the castle gates, having overtaken half the city by now. And just as it came within 30 yards of the castle walls, a shriek rang out through the night air. A shriek of utter evil, and despair; ne of defeat, and warning. The frist rays of twilight swept over the horizon, spearing the oncoming darkness with it's neverending rays of sunshine. With this the mysterious darkness receded just as quickly as it had appeared, shrinking back behind the city walls and dissappearing into the wilderness beyond.

 

The King's eyes surveyed the city below, all seemed well, the darkness had apparently caused no damage save for killing more than half the towns streetlamps, and torchlights. His city was safe, he was safe, all was well. It was just a cloud, that's all it was a cloud must have floated over the city, blocking the moon, that's what it was, he thought encouragingly. And just has happiness, and relieve overcame him, his door burst open, one of his guards standing their bent over striving for breathe. "Sire!!!..........town........dark.........people........vanished", he managed to get out between breaths. "What?" replied the King, "Catch your breath first son." The man stood for a moment, seemed to catch his breath and attempted to speak again, "Sire, the darkness came, and when it left, we investigated the town, and everywhere we searched that the darkness had inhabited just moments before the people they...", at this he broke off. "They what?, out with it, son, out with it." "Sire, they're gone, they vanished, no sign of them. There was no indication of a struggle, nothing, everyone who was inside that dark is gone, not a trace. We can't find them." Panic overcame the King,

"You are sure of this?"

"Yes Sire I am, most sure of this."

"Very well, private, go to my study, open the top left drawer of my desk, you know the one I'm speakin of?", the soldier gave a curt nod, "In there you will find a thick roll of parchment bring it here at once. On your way alert my chief advisor to gather the remaining townsfolk to the castle coutyard, double the guard around the city, and send scouts into the forest, perhaps they can send a forewarning, should it return." Without hesitation, the he rushed out of the room, and returned minutes later, out of breath once again, and clutching the parchment roll.

"Did you tell my advisor?"

"Yes, Sire, I did indeed, here is the parchment you asked for."

The King snatched it, and began unrolling it. He strode over to his beside, grasped his quill and began scribbling away, using the castle wall as a writing desk. He handed it back to the soldier.

"This is a note, with list of names, exist the castle gates, turn left at the first oak you see, and you'll find a small cottage with shabby blue paint. Give this to him, he'll know where to find them, and what to do. Do not, lose this list, do not stop for anything. It is urgent he get this at once, though i do not doubt he suspects exactly as i do"

"May I ask sire, what it is you suspect, what is all this about?"

"There is a great danger awakened, an evil long witheld for centuries, and I fear it has been released upon this world, time is of the essence, now GO!!!"

The soldier flew from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

Now we must wait, the King thought, wait, and hope they arrive in time.........---

 

 

 

 

A tall elven man walked the length of the alleyway and steped into the streaming light of the lampost just feet away. His hair was long and black, highly untidy, the points of his ears poking out from long streaming mess. A solid gold hoop, with a red ruby in its center hung from his left ear. His skin, was a pale white, and had the appearance of almost being seethrough. A long streaming black leather trenchcoat trailed the ground at his feet. It had a few restiched spots, apparently holes, and a bit of wear and tear. At the back two slits started at about shoulder height and continued to the bottom creating a long hanging section in the middle of the two slits.It was unbuttoned all theway down and revealed a dark brown shirt tucked into a bare of black hide pants. A thick leather belt looped it's way around his waist and held a small short sword on his left, and a crossbow on his right. The sword's hilt was a deep bronze, and the handle highly polished oak from years of use. It's scabbard made of a plain leather variety, and a small leather braid down the middle showing glints of blade through it. A bolt quiver strapped itself to his left thigh, and contained a tightly packed amount of crossbow bolts. His feet were glad in soft hide boots, blackened by the dirt of the wilds. Protruding from the top of his right boot, was clearly the handle of a dagger. Both his hands were covered in leather hide gloves, the fingers having wore out of both of them. A solitary raven perched on his shoulder.

 

He took a left and continued down the street, took a right at the next alley, and into a dead end. He paused for a moment, took a solitary glance around, and walked straight through the wall before him, only to emerge seconds later in a dimly lit corridor. To his left was a dead end, and to the right a door, he opened it and proceeded down a narrow staircase and atlast emerged into a rather large dome shaped room, piled with books, odd looking black instruments, and bird cage(the door open), and piles upon piles of yellowing parchment. In the very center of the room stood a table with an odd shaped three-dimensional map with little figures moving about it's surface. He walked over to the far end and sat down at a desk, barely visible through the piled mess. A window set in the wall behind him showed a view of a waterway, though which a rather large passenger ship was now travelling. He gazed experessionless out at it, and then turned his head to peer around the room. A mirror hung on the opposite wall, except that it held no reflection but a slivery vapour of smoke. He reached inside his cloak, and his hand emerged with a piece of parchment, sealed with wax. He carefully opened it, and leaned back in his chair as he did so. It folded open and he began to read, his expression growing a bit more interested as he went on.

 

DearMaster Elrol, the King of Mryn requests your presence.

 

Sincerely, Spencer Kingsfield

 

He looked up from the letter and over at the raven who had now perched itself inside the birdcage hanging from the cieling. "Looks like We're needed in Mryn old friend. Come on Corvus, let us be off, wouldn't want to keep old Ronan waiting." And with this he started rummaging through the room gathering objects, and packing them in a small leather pack loaded with pockets........

[Fishystick]

Aravid was growing tired. Nothing seen or heard in three days. No animals, no food. Even before the three empty days there hadn't been much. Two rabbits and a some bread had kept him going almost a week now. Never before in his thirtytwo years of life had he experienced such a lack of animals in one place. It amazed him that he hadn't seen anything, not even tracks. It couldn't be because of the seasons changing, there was always something to be found even during the coldest of winters.

 

It was a month now since he had left Valmar and the others. They had always found it amusing that he, a simple human, could do what he could. Although they knew he had been taught the arts of a ranger by elves like themselves, they still found it strange that he knew what he did. Aravid scratched his chin and looked forward towards the edge of the forest. The sun was rising behind him and the air was warm. Still, no sounds were heard and the forest was totally quiet. "Not a good sign", he muttered to himself and took a firm hold of his sword. The longsword he had hanging in a sheath from his belt was, like the bow over his shoulder, made by elves. They were both good and reliable weapons.

 

He was dressed well enough to melt in with the woods around him, but still protected enough to handle a fight. He wore black leather boots, thick brown pants, a heavy leather belt and a green/brown tunic. Over the tunic he had a heavy leather cuirass and a long green hooded cloak covered in dust and dirt. On his back hung a quiver filled with long steel arrows. In his belt he also carried several smaller things such as a whetstone, a tinderbox, one pouch containing several coins, another one containing his pipe and tobacco and a small knife mostly used to skin animals.

 

Aravid was a little over 6 foot tall and broad across the shoulders. Although he didn't look like it, he was both fast and enduring. He was also pretty strong for his size, but several men he knew outmatched him. His hair was long and black, fading to grey, and so was the stubble on his chin. He looked older than he was, but his thirtytwo year long life had still taught him some important lessons.

 

Aravid reached the edge of the forest and looked out. "Mryn, unless I'm mistaken", he told himself and thought of the many roads he had walked and the maps he had memorized. He battled his own mind for a brief moment, then gave up his hunt and headed towards the city to find a good meal.

[Adelbert]

Tom Foxhole was a happy halfling, he lived a quiet life in his home, a foxhole he had dug out and made big enough for him. He was about 3 foot tall with curly black hair. He didn't care much about anything except food and drinks. In his earlier years Tom had travelled a lot. Tom the halfling had wandered all around and his interest in mapmaking had rewarded him with knowledge of many places. Three years ago when Tom turned 45 he decided his exploring days were over and soon he found his little foxhole where he built his home.

 

These days, he didn't do much except for taking care of his garden and brewing his ale. Tom had his life laid out in front of him as he didn't speak to anyone except for those few that came to visit him now and then. Although this was about to change. A couple of days ago he had received a visit from Oldman Oaktree who lived in a giant oak near some human city he didn't know the name of, nor did he care. Oldman and Tom had spent days discussing their old wanderings together, and this made Tom eager to grab his hikingstaff and go wandering about again. So when Oldman was returning home, Tom Foxhole packed some things in his backpack, put on his old wandering clothes(brown pants and a white tunic with a short green cloak over his shoulders, no boots since his feet were to big to fit in any), hung his short knife in his belt and grabbed a hiking staff.

 

The trip to Oldman's oaktree went along without any problems and after a week or so, Tom was returning home. As he was crossing a small dirt path two young boys came walking about around a bunch of trees. The two were laughing and jumping around and they didn't really notice Tom untill one of them spotted the carved pipe sticking out of his mouth.

 

"Hey, I don't know you", the boy stated and pointed at Tom. "Not surprising", he answered and continued walking. "Hey now wait a minute!" the other boy shouted. "I bet you're not old enough to be smoking that", he said and inspected Tom. The halfling, quite surprised that they thought he was just a kid stopped and watched the two youngsters. "I'll let you know I'm probably older than the two of you together times two."

 

After some discussig back and forth how Tom could be so old and yet so small the two boys decided that he was either a very short man or a normal-sized lieing youngster. They convinced him to follow them to their hometown and restock on his food supplies since he had eaten almost everything he had. Although he didn't usually buy things he always kept some spare gold and silver since he had heard that the "longfolk" exchanged them for things.

 

As they went of down the road Tom asked the two what the place was called. "Mryn it is", one of the boys said, "mister", he added and laughed. "Mryn, you say?" Tom answered and thought for a moment. He hadn't been around this spot for years but he could recall that name. Probably some small fishing village, it was all fine with him if they had food.

[Peregrine]

DearMaster Ryskin, the King of Mryn requests your presence.

 

Sincerely, Spencer Kingsfield

 

Captain Aleksi sar-Ryskin sighed wearily as he read the note that had been slipped under his door sometime in the past night. A note that had forced a decision on him, a decision he wanted very much to avoid. After over two centuries of life, Aleksi was no longer the young man whose epic adventures had drawn the note to him. Even the elven blood in his family could only slow the burdens of age, not stop them completely. And so he had retired, given his last farewell to the army he had once commanded, and retired to the peaceful house overlooking the ocean to enjoy the twilight years of his life. It was a well earned gift, a rest he had dreamed of for years, and had no intention of leaving.

 

But on the other hand, he had sworn an oath to the king... and more importantly, to the people of Mryn. He held that thought for long moments, memories flooding back into his mind as he considered the true meaning of that promise. For the first time in years, Aleksi was truly worried. The king had known of his retirement, had personally handed him the officer's sword that still hung above the fireplace. He wouldn't call on that oath lightly... whatever had driven him to send the note was of critical importance.

 

As he considered that last point, Aleksi realized that his choice was in fact no choice at all. Now, as it had been, and as it would be until his last breath in this world, it would be Captain sar-Ryskin. And Captain sar-Ryskin could never abandon his kingdom in its most desperate hour. Might as well give the bards one last tale to sing of, he thought as he began to pack for the long journey ahead of him.

[nickleback04]

Aethelwyne was worried. He had always been a loner, and had never liked to interfere in other people's affairs, except in life or death situations. Aged a mere one hundred and thirty seven years old, his humble forest abode and his trusty weapons were all he had left in this world. He knew something big and important was about to happen in the kingdom of King Ronan, but what, he did not know.

Wings, his falcon, returned within a few hours of being dispatched, and he had news for Aethelwyne, in the form of a note;

 

DearMaster Aethelwyne, the King of Mryn requests your presence,

 

Sincerely, Spenser Kingsfield

 

Aethelwyne was now puzzled more than anything. How had anyone got hold of his bird for long enough to tie a note onto him? And how did the King know of him? His skill with weapons was surely only known inside the kingdom of the Elves, not out in the wide world. But he could not deny, the note had him intrigued. The King of Mryn, wanted to see him? Then he must surely go.

 

And so he began packing. Having lived on his own, he did not have any emotional attatchment to much in the house. He pullen on his deep green elf tunic, a pair of thick brown pants, his shoes of the Wind, enabling him to run as fast of the wind, a belt of cow hide, and finaly, his cloak of camouflage. By the stars, had that helped him over the years. Then came the weapons. He put on his quiver of hand crafted arrows onto his back, and then he prepared his bow. The bow of Foster, the forest guardian. He had entered an archery competition to win this. Apart from the bloodbath at the end when Foster decided he didn't want to give away his bow after all, it had been a rather pleasant day. He swung it onto his back, and then retrieved Oberon from the bottom draw of the dresser by his bed. This blade had been carved by the dwarves, from the little know about material called frill. All he knew was that he had killed seven people with it, and that it was indestructible. He put Oberon into his boot, clearly visible, but safely secured. Then he pulled out a sheath for a shortsword. He tied it to his belt, and then rummaged around on top of his chest of drawers for his sword. He found it.

 

Windbreaker, the sword itself, had been made by elven smiths over four thousand years ago. It was a shortsword, and was made of shaped granite from deep in a dwarven mine, and encased in an alloy of mithril, pure silver, and titanium. This metal was unknown to all but a few great smiths. Aethelwyne only knew the name of this unbreakable material, but he also knew that he would trust his life to the sword. With an affectionate glance, he slid the sowrd into the scabbard at his side. He glanced around. Now only the odds and ends needed packing. He pulled out a bag made from pure cowhide, and put a tinderboz, a knife, a pouch filled to bursting with stolen coins, and his whetstone. Had he forgotten anything? Of course! Wings, his falcon looked at him with dissaproving eyes. Sometimes, he could swear the bird actually read his mind. He shook his head, as if to chase the thought out of his head. He beckoned for the bird to come to him. Without hesitation, the bird flew to his shoulder. The familiar weight of the bird made him fell better about his journey already. He walked out of the door, locked it, and crept out of the thick growth of thorns that encased his small home. He looked back. The king of Mryn needs me he thought. And so, he set off without a second thought. An adventure, at last!

[Fishystick]

As Aravid was making his way through the city streets he noticed that the streets were not as busy as you would have expected, but it didn't really bother him. He watched the houses as he passed them, remembering that there was a good tavern located somewhere in the city. Atleast it was here a year ago..

 

"The forester's hideout", he said when he spoted the sign he was looking for. A worn sign portraying a black figure behind two trees. Whoever painted the sign obviously didn't care about the result as long as he got paid for it. Aravid pushed the door open and stepped inside. Even though the sun was rising there wasn't much light to be found because of the tables leaned against the walls, covering the two small windows.

 

"We're closed", a heavy man said from behind the bar. "You're always closed to the wrong people, woodsman", Aravid said and grinned. Woodsman cursed as his head hit a big barrel. "I haven't heard anyone say that in.." he started. "A year and a few months", Aravid finished. "Aravid! You crazed wanderer, where have you been?", the barkeeper shouted and hurried out from behind the bar. "With the elves, as always", Aravid answered as they shook hands.

 

"Spare me your stories, ranger", Woodsman said and inspected his friend. "I see you haven't changed at all", he stated. "And I see you've changed a lot", Aravid answered and laughed. "Why do you keep your tables standing against the walls, friend?", he asked and went over to look at the tables. "Strange things going on these days, ranger" Woodsman told him and went to tip a table over so they could sit down.

 

After some drinks and catching up to old memories Woodsman the barkeeper suddenly stood up and rushed over to a pile of paper on a wooden crate. "I just remembered someone came in here with this note for you. I told them that I didn't know where you were or when you would return but they assured me you would get it soon enough. Important news probably."

 

Aravid accepted the note, obviously read over and over again judging by the dirty fingerprints all over the paper. Aravid sent an ironic look towards Woodsman. "Couldn't keep your hands away, could you?", he said and folded the note open.

 

DearMaster Aravid, the King of Mryn requests your presence,

 

Sincerely, Spenser Kingsfield

 

The ranger turned the note around and looked all around for any other writings. "Who left this here?", he asked and watched his friend who was looking quite uneasy and sweaty. "I don't know who it was, someone from the town guard maybe", he said and wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "Oh come on, haven't I told you to look out for suspicious people? Very well, I'm needed so the tales and stories are going to have to wait untill this business is taken care of. With those last words he emptied his mug of beer and walked out of the tavern headed towards the castle.

[nickleback04]

As Aethelwyne strode through the gates, he noticed the city was quiet. Too quiet. He knew of a small tavern, 'the forester's hideout', where he knew he could stay for a while. He didnt know he was retracing the steps of Aravid, only hours before him. He turned around sharply, and drew Windbreaker from it's scabbard. What a fool i am. There hasn't been any sound, or any sight, of anyone since i arrived. My mind is playing tricks on me in my *old* age. And so he sheathed the blade, and continued to look for the tavern.

 

A little later, he saw the familiar sign with the man hiding behind two trees painted upon it in a haphazard fashion. He pushed open the door, and was greeted by the sight of the bartender pushing a polished table up against the wall. "So Aravid, back so soon?" he says, not looking round.

 

"I be not this Aravid you talk of, barkeep", Aethelwyne says, "i be your good friend Aethelwyne."

"Aethelwyne, eh? Never heard of him. O, and by the way, were closed."

"You're always closed to the wrong people, woodsman", the Elf says, and grins.

"O, that Aethelwyne. Sorry, my memory seems to be drifting away..." *a large burp errupts from his mouth* "But not my appetite. How about yours?"

"Sorry, friend, but I have important business to attend to. The king needs me."

"You're not the only one. Aravid came by only a couple of hours before you. I, I mean he, got a note from some Kingsfield guy"...

"Me too!"

"... telling him that the king nneds him. I wish you wouldn't interrupt me."

"Sorry, can't help it. If I could just have a beer before I leave, I would be most grateful. I'm sorry, but i have no money so you'll have to put it on my tab..."

"You don't have a tab! Have it on the house."

"Thank you, kind sir" concludes Aethelwyne.

 

While the pair talk for a few minutes over the beer, Aethelwyne's falcon, Wings, emitts a large sqwuak. "Is that the time? I must be off! Thank you good friend, for your hospitality, but i must depart. Goodbye"

And he draws his cloak around him and leaves.

 

"And thanks for the free drink" he mutters, patting his bulging pouch of money, and he allows himself a brief smile. He heads towards the castle thinking, this is going to be such good fun.

[Elrol]

Miles away in Falicita, Elrol continued his packing. Corvus rested his head under one wing, knowing very well he had plenty of time to nap. It would take Elrol forever to find anything in this mess. Elrol placed the final item into his pack, a whetstone, and got up to look through his books. He knew it was here somewhere. "Ah yes", he mumbed as he opened one of the thick heavily bound volumes in the corner. A largely wrinkled piece of parchmnet, folded within the pages, fell out. He reached down and picked it up, unfolding it slowly. "I'll definately need this."

 

THE MAP

 

After careful deliberation over the map he folded it back up, put it in a smaller leather book and stuffed it away in his pack. With this final item packed away Elrol stood up and walked over to the far wall. "Mryn...", he thought, its been a while. And with this thought a rush of memories flooded back.

 

It had been 40 years since the Renegade wars. He had been stationed Mryn. What ever possessed him to join the fight, he never could figure out. The post has been a simple one, not enough action for Elrol though. He seemed to be the only one who was dissapointed in the amount of action and danger the position held. He had been put here by chance, the others however had been "posted" here by their wealthy relations higher up in command. Elrol knew all too well, these were the petted, rich kids who had merely joined because their fathers had been great heroes back in the Waylander wars. They were here for their own protection to sum it up. Elrol surmized he had been put there merely because of his inexperience with the legion. They thought him useless on the front, and had to put him somewhere. It seemed for a while Elrol was the only one who didn't belong here. Then after being stationed in Mryn for two months a new arrival would change all that. The current commander Captian Semuval was reassigned to the front and a replacement had arrived. His name was Ryskin, but he preferred his full title Captain sar-Ryskin. Ryskin knew his duty well, and expected everyone else to follow in suite. Elrol never really like the Captain much he seemed to look down on Elrol for being assigned to this post. Elrol figured Ryskin assumed he was just like the rest of the rich spoiled brats. But though there never was much of desire to be in his presence, Elrol still respected Ryskin. And soon a relationship of respectful hatred began that would cause a major effect on the outcome of the Renegade Wars. Ryskin and Elrol, along with some new found companions helped find and avert a plot that could have very well turned the tide against the Legion. The previous King died while Elrol was in Mryn and his son, barely old enough to be a man, took over in his place. Ronan though various circumstances became one of Elrol's companions that swayed the war in the Legion's favor. Ronan was young then, and very naieve to the workings of the world, but he was a fast learner. He came out of the war a sharp witted, and highly skilled warrior; A man fit to lead.

 

When the war was over Elrol left Mryn. With no war to fight he left for greater adventures in far off lands. He never knew what happened to Captain Ryskin. He assumed he stayed in the service. But Ryskin was not a topic Elrol regularly wondered about, so he really didn't care, and didn't really desire much to meet him again. Elrol could only wonder what Ronan needed now after all this time, and how he had found him. I guess he'd find out soon enough.

 

Leaving his memories Elrol focused his gaze on the wall and shouted at Corvus. "Hey!, wake up you lazy bird." Corvus jolted awake, and wearily glided from the cage to Elrol's shoulder. A small pedastool stood before a mirror hanging on the wall. The mirror held no reflection only wisps of vapour. Upon the pedastool lay several oddly shaped and coloured gems, all set within tiny grooves carved into the pedastool. Elrol slowly rearranged the Gems watched as the wisps within the mirror slowly swirled and changed colours. "I think this should get us slightly outside of town, that'll keep us from raising any suspicion to the residents." And with that he steped through the mirror and vanished.

 

Less than a quarter mile outside of Mryn a small glimmer of light formed within the trees. It slowly grew wider and wider, taking on a rectangle shape. A silhoueted figured stepped out, and the gateway closed swiftly shut behind him. "Too bad that thing doesn't work both ways. Lets hope we don't have to get back in a hurry." He emerged from the wood and found the road. Wagon tracks dug deep into the brown earth leading to and from Mryn, a sign that the city was a bit more popular than 40 years ago. He took a deep breath and began his walk toward the citygates, the raven still perched stiffly on his shoulder.

 

[As a reference a square on that gride is roughly 400 square miles, that's 20 miles to a side.]

[Adelbert]

Tom Foxhole the halfling had reached the city gates of Myrn with the two youngsters. "Now where can I buy some food?" he asked and looked around like he was searching for a pile of food. "Can't you read?" one of the boys asked and pointed at a big sign indicating that the marketplace was straight ahead.

 

"Why would I know how to read?" Tom answered and peered forward. There was obviously a crowd gathering, but he didn't see any vendors. "So you're telling me you're that old and can't even read?", the boy asked and looked very surprised. This didn't make Tom any happier since he had always seen himself as very intelligent.

 

The halfling thanked the boys for their guidance and continued on his march towards the market. As soon as he reached the square he heard people muttering and talking all around him. He pulled the shirt of a tall man dressed very strange, atleast to his eye. At first the man didn't spot him, then Tom pulled his shirt again and he looked down.

 

"Whattaya want kid?", the man asked in a very rude tone and watched the halfling. "I'm wondering where I may buy some food", Tom answered. "Well do I look like some kind of food vendor to you?", the man almost shouted. What Tom had misstaken for a common citizen was in fact a guard, and a very rude one. The tall man shoved him out of the way and marched towards two older men arguing over something.

 

The halfling, very insulted by the man, spotted a sign with three letters he could put together. "I..n..n..Inn", he muttered and walked towards the open door. Just as he was about to reach the door he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw another guard watching him with doubt in his eyes. Since the guard was dressed like the earlier rude man Tom didn't quite know if he was allowed to ask for directions, so he just stod there.

 

"Are.. are you Tom Foxhole?" the guard asked and watched the halfling. "Tom Foxhole is my name, why do you ask it?" he answered. The guard, obviously relieved that he had found the correct person sighed and let go of Tom's shoulder. "Good, your presence is requested by the king", he said. "The king? What king is that?", Tom asked.

 

The guard looked very surprised and just pointed towards the castle without a word. The halfling turned around to go see what this king wanted and if he was just as strange as the others in this city, some who didn't speak and some who spoke to much. He was also hoping that he would find something to eat along the way since he was getting very hungry by now.

[draighox]

Into the morning sun Selaunius rode, as the wind blew his long hair. It has been a while since he hunted orcs, almost two weeks now. Those villigers needed help, and he killed the orcs with pleasure. They are done for. Now, there was a rumor that somebody sighted orcs somewhere near Pryn Wood. That's where the rider was heading. Killing orcs was Selaunius' life. He enjoyed it, as his hatred for orcs was so strong. They always destroy beautiful things, they kill and torture people, they are evil.

 

The rider's sword handle glistened in the rising sun. This was his father's sword, Gleamer. He had slain many orcs before he passed it to his son. The leather armor was thick enaugh to break an orc axe, but light enaugh to let its bearer run easily. The cloak, usually protecting Selaunius from dust and rain, now blew carelessly in the wind, because the road was grassy and there was no dust, there was no sight of raindrops either.

 

Myro, the human's steed was running with energy and grace. Quite calm now, he would go into rage if orcs appeared, and charge at them so that his master would kill them. Myro and Selaunius were very likeminded.

 

Selaunius rode a bit further and saw a villige near the road. "Good", the human thought, "I could use some ale." He entered the villige and saw an inn imediately. It was the largest building in the villige, though old and mossy. Selaunius asked the innkeeper to feed his horse and ordered a tankard of ale. As he was drinking, he heard another rider. The rider stopped his horse and began talking urgently to the innkeeper, who was outside, taking care of Myro. Selaunius couldn't hear anything, but the man seemed tense and maybe angry. Soon he left the innkeeper and walked into the inn where Selaunius was sitting. The man was wearing a tunic with Mryn's blazon.

 

"Are you Selaunius the Orcslayer?" he asked.

"Yes, they call me that." answered Selaunius.

"I have a messege for you" said the man.

 

He handed Selaunius a scroll and walked away. Selaunius opened it and read.

 

Dear Master Selaunius, the King of Mryn requests your presence,

 

Sincerely, Spenser Kingsfield

 

"I wonder what the king wants from me. Well, it's just a few days road from here."