QUOTE (grym @ Aug 13 2007, 04:30 PM) 
would anyone mind if I post a super long short story (Super long compared to others that have been posted)?
Your wish is my command! I bring you The Adventures of Hassar and Glathil! This is an episodical adventure of two Kopatsarins, set in the mystical world of Alturon. It is written episodically, so there are teasers between each week's worth of writing. Speaking of the writing: it's an amatuer attempt at a story. The style gets better as I go on (or so I like to make myself believe).
And so, without further ado, here it is. Please take some time to review it after you've read. Also, I'd like to request all replies to stay on topic. We have countless forum games and spam threads to be random in, so let's keep this a serious discussion.
The Adventures of Hassar and Glathil
Hassar the Ranger snuck along the cliffside on his approach to the enemy fortress, while Glathil the Mage strode boldly toward the gates. Hassar slipped, screaming as he fell into the abyss, unknowingly drawing the attention of all the guards. Four blasts of fire later, Glathil was lord of the Keep.
“Hey Hassar, nice work on those glider wings. Did that really slow your fall?”
“Certainly. I must admit I was just a tad surprised about the screaming ghost part. Wasn’t it your job to distract them and my job to take ‘em out?”
“I’ll admit, the illusion was a spur of the moment idea, but you have to concede that it worked.”
“…three hours. Three hours spent on planning and getting ready! You think a “spur of the moment” idea is worth the risk?!?”
“Alright, so maybe you didn’t see the guard that was looking at you.”
“Oh, so now you tell me.”
“Enough of this” Glathil said, “When do you think they’re going to promote us? We’ve been capturing outposts like this for nearly two years. Our borders have nearly doubled.”
“Ah, get off yourself. They’ll make us Fire Knights when they want to. You don’t like what we do?”
“It’s interesting enough, but what’s the point? I thought we were just getting them back for flooding the Eastern Plains on us. That was three years ago, yet here we still are. I mean, do you know anybody who actually saw the flooding? I ask everybody I know, and not one of them can tell me what it looked like. Isn’t that just a bit odd?”
“The High Mage himself said it happened! Obviously…”
Who is the High Mage? Why are they still fighting? When will they ever stop? Come in next week, and you might find some of the answers.
Two days after the securing of the outpost, a company of archers arrived to secure it against enemy retaliation. Along with them came the message that Hassar and Glathil were to be sent to headquarters: the great city of Naelsahm Kopatsur.
That morning, while on the road, Hassar said to Glathil “This is wonderful. I haven’t been home in ages. It will be great to see all the people, stroll the marketplace, meet old friends.”
“I cannot wait to see the Tower again. A glimmering white shaft reaching to the sky, to disappear among the clouds...Now that’s a keep that would be hard to take.”
“Oh grow up. When are you going to stop worrying about war and towers and junk like that? Lighten up.”
Sometime later, they paused for lunch, and then headed out again. Glathil couldn’t keep from feeling like he was being watched. Something was out there...No, it was just his imagination. No wait, what’s that shadow by the tree?
“Do you feel it too?” Glathil whispered.
“Yea,” Hassar replied, “I keep thinking something’s out there, but right when I turn, it vanishes.”
They continued on for some ways until Hassar noticed something coming up on the road.
Hassar whispered, “See that narrow coming up? I know that place. There’s a small bluff with an overhand over the road. If someone’s watching us, they’ll do it from up there. So when we get there, I want you to act like you’re asleep, and make an illusion to cover up my absence.”
“While you...?”
“Climb up the tunnel in the side of the bluff.”
Hassar and Glathil continued to the narrows, and stopped in the shadow of the overhang to take shade from the midday sun. Glathil lay down while Hassar stood watch. All was calm until...
“Gotcha, you little urchin! Who are you??”
Glathil heard Hassar and quickly ran out from the overhang and scrambled up one of the easier slopes to the top. Hassar was standing up top, holding a struggling...
“Just a boy?”
“Seemingly so.” Hassar said.
Glathil came closer to help Hassar. He looked at the boy, and then stopped aghast.
“Hassar, this is one of the Moon Clan.”
What is the Moon Clan? Friends? Foes? What is Glathil so upset about? What will they do with their captive? Read next week to find out.
“Let go of me! Let go!”
Hassar dropped the boy to the ground. Glathil stood ready to incinerate him if there should be any...problems.
“Well, yes, I’m Moon Clan. But that doesn’t mean quite as much as it used to, ever since your type began attacking us. But that’s not my point. I came to ask for help.”
“Help??,” asked Glathil.
“...yes..”
Hassar interjected, “Since when does the Moon Clan need help??”
“Since now! Do I have to beg!?!?”
“I’m sorry,” Glathil replied. “The least we can do is listen. If something’s troubling the Moon Clan, then the rest of us may well be in danger too. What’s the problem?”
“I can’t describe it properly. It’s huge. It seems to be made of earth. It’s three times larger than our largest warrior. Flung him near seven lengths when it smashed him. Our mages started in on it, and we were making good progress: our mages excel in earth magic. We ran into a problem though. It seems smarter than other creatures we’ve dealt with. When it realized it was losing, it ran back, and found a cave and hid in it.”
“What kept you from killing it then and there?”
“It’s the river source. It absorbed so much water, our mages can’t touch it. We need a water mage. We’ve got it pinned down inside, but we don’t know how much longer we can hold this. I was hoping you and your friend could help.”
Glathil and Hassar conversed in low tones for a moment.
“Look,” Glathil said, “ I don’t believe in helping the enemy, but this war is getting out of hand. Someone needs to stop this.”
They set out at once for the Moon Clan village. They approached it unnoticed. There seem to be far-off sounds of fighting, but all else was peaceful. An old man exited a house and walked up to them.
He asked, “Just who do you think you are?? Marching on our lands like you own the place! Explain yourself!”
Hassar started, “We came to help, beca...”
“We need no help! Leave now!”
Glathil started to move toward the man. He was met by a wall of earth shooting out of the ground, which grew more defined, and turned into the shape a man. He had the proportions of a bull. He defined the term strong in every way.
“STOP!!!”
Glathil backed almost four feet, faster than he thought physically possible.
“No! Don’t! They’re here to help!” The boy shouted on their behalf. “Let them at least try. They can’t do any harm if they tried anyway. Please?”
“To think of a high warrior taking advice from his own son....Come.”
They followed to a cave entrance, where a group of Moon Clan mages was trying to keep the behemoth trapped inside.
“Well, good luck in there,” the boy said. “You’ll need it. And by the way, my name’s Zauk”
What will they do to stop the beast? Will the Moon Clan let them leave? Will they even survive? Come in next week to find out!
Hassar and Glathil were led by Zauk’s father, Kazahn, down the slope near the cave entrance. Kazahn gave them instructions to help as much as possible before heading to the fray himself.
“Hey Hassar,” Glathil said, “leave this one to me. I got it. Should be no trouble at all”
Hassar moved back a little ways and sat down dejectedly. It wasn’t like Glathil to just order him around, but he must have his reasons. And so far he’d seen no end to Glathil’s magic prowess, so he assumed it would be over quick.
The behemoth of earth surged forth out of the cave, and threw a blast of water at the nearest Moon Clan mage. This was not as a shower of water as comes from hose, but a vortex of hyper-pressurized liquid. But as the bolt neared its target, it swerved off just enough to miss, turning the tree behind it to toothpicks nearly instantaneously. Glathil didn’t stop to admire his handiwork, but moved on towards the beast, still 30 feet away. The creature recognized this new threat, and sent a wall of earth to confront it. Glathil did an astonishing leap (though not out of proportion for Kopatsarins such as himself) 10 feet in the air, shooting a blast of fire at the apex of his jump. His shot missed, but distracted the creature enough to allow Glathil to get within striking distance with his broadsword. He moved to pull the sword from its sheath, only to find that he had dropped it upon landing his jump. He turned back to retrieve it. However, as he stooped down to pick it up, a gargantuan arm reached down and grabbed him, lifting him high into the air. It started to squeeze......
“AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHH”
Twang, zip. Twang, zip.
The creature bellowed with pain as Hassar’s arrows met their target. Hassar roared his defiance of the beast., and it charged him, water leaking from its newly inflicted wounds. Hassar then dropped his bow, and started running at the beast himself, which had dropped the unconscious Glathil to the side. Just when it seemed that that would collide, Hassar slid under the creature’s legs. The monster turned just in time to see Hassar stand up from unsheathing the sword. Hassar stood ready as the thing rushed at him again. He jumped onto the outstretched arm right as it grasped the air where he had been standing. He ran up the arm, using it as a ramp, barely evading the other hand as it moved to strike him down. Upon reaching the shoulder of the earth giant, he leaped. High he soared, twisting, twirling. He surged downward, head first, with the blade pointing towards the monster’s head. The sword buried its tip in head of the beast, and cleaved a gaping hole from there down the side of the behemoth. The creature howled in pain and fury, decreasing in size as the water it had absorbed drained from it. It turned to retreat back into the cave to find Kazahn blocking its path. And with three strokes, combined with near superhuman strength, Kazahn rent it in two. It fell to earth, a pile of rubble and was no more.
The dust cleared, and Kazahn approached Hassar as he was attempting to revive Glathil. When Glathil finally awoke, he said, “My gratitude goes to you men. Without you, we would never have been able to fend this creature off. You are free to go wherever should you desire.”
“Thank you,” Hassar replied, “I think we’ll be back on the road as soon as Glathil gets his feet.”
“Ooh! Ooh!!” Zauk piped up, “Can I go too???”
Will Zauk be allowed to go with Hassar and Glathil? What will they find when the reach the great city of Naelsahm Kopatsur? Will we ever hear of the Moon Clan again? Come in next week to find out!
“No, Zauk. You can’t come with us. While I’m not worried about you, there are many Kopatsarins who view the Kavasgz with contempt. They would be a danger to you.”
Zauk sighed deeply. “...Ok. If you ever come this way again though, you have to come see me.”
“Alright,” said Glathil, who had by now recovered. “But I doubt it....you’re supposed to be the enemy......... We’d best be going.”
Kazahn thanked Glathil and Hassar, and assured them that if they ever met in battle, he’d not kill them if he had the chance. While grim, Hassar and Glathil took it in stride. Given this Kavasgz’ earth magic and raw physical power, it was a definite possibility. They promised the same, though perhaps with less conviction, and headed back up the path out of the valley of the Moon Clan to the surrounding forest.
* * * * *
Only a short time had passed when Glathil suddenly went rigid midstride, his head bent in sudden concentration. He quickly relaxed and turn to the trail again, complaining loudly about a headache.
Hassar noticed Glathil’s bizarre behavior, but remained silent until they were traversing a particularly sparse area of the trail.
Hassar then whispered, “What happened back there?”
“We’re being followed.”
“How can you be sure? You weren’t when this happened before.”
“I’m certain. This time, whoever it is is cloaking himself with magic. I don’t recognize the feel of it, so at least we know it’s not any of the mages from the fight against the earth beast. I think it’s a new follower.”
“What’s with us being followed all the time??”
“Well, if he doesn’t act before we reach the city, I’m not going to worry about it. Naelsahm Kopatsur is sure protection from just about anything short of a million man army. Just remain vigilant. It’s impossible for me to discover the what type of thing is following us employing my own magic. And any use of probing magic would tip him off that we know he’s here for sure.”
The time passed slowly on. By evening, they could see the White Tower in the distance, the jewel of the Kopatsarin race. Yet their pursuer had not confronted them. The endless hours of constant mental guard had worn away at them, but they were soon to reach the safety of the Naelsahm Kopatsur, the capital of the aptly named Kopatsarins. There they could receive shelter and inform their captains of the pursuers they had dealt with. However, both men knew to exclude any information about the Moon Clan. There was no need to repay friendship with evil.
Soon, they were able to see the open plains surrounding the city, Hassar noticed a column of foot soldiers moving towards them, clothed in the red battle gear of the Avenger class.
Then, Glathil suddenly whispered to Hassar, “He’s gone.”
“Who?”
“Whoever was following us. He just disappeared.”
“How?”
“You think I know everything? Just be careful. It could be a trick to make us unwary.”
They drew their weapons and held them at the ready, but nothing stirred. They continued walking. They had nearly passed out of the forest, and were turning the corner towards the grasslands beyond, when the earth opened up in front of them. It swallowed them up, and then closed over them with a ripple like water, trapping them inside that which would be their tomb.
The first thing Glathil saw when he looked up from where he fell was the two green orbs floating in void of the chamber.
A familiar voice said, “Remember me?”
“......Zauk?”
What is Zauk doing? Why is he doing it? What does he have against these two helpful adventurers? What will become of Glathil and Hassar? Only next week holds the answers!
Glathil’s anger flared. The risk taken, the danger faced, and THIS?!?! The boy returning the gift given with traps and trickery??? His eyes flashed piercing white, and the air began to pulsate around him with the power building inside.
“No! Wait!” Zauk cried quickly. The green glow of his eyes diminished to their normal tint, all traces of his magic quickly hidden.
“What are you doing?!?” Glathil boomed at him.
“Wait. The column of soldiers. What were they dressed in?”
“Doesn’t matter! Why do you bother with such trivial things?? They were just.......wait...red... that’s Avenger class! Where do you know about this?”
“Our mages attack your fortresses. We then get tracked down by those men in red. Doesn’t take much to know what they are.”
“But why trick Hassar and I? You trailed us all the way here, then swallowed us with your earth magic. Why???”
“I came with....I don’t know why...I guess I just was hoping...it doesn’t matter now. If you could feel my cloak, then you’ll know this. I left a few minutes before I buried you to investigate that column. I heard the commander giving his orders to his men. They’re to track down and kill the mage Glathil and the archer Hassar. They’re wearing magic resistant armor and equipped with low grade lirthim shields.”
Glathil’s rage calmed, and his voice lost its anger. “Hmm... anti archer and anti-mage. They’re definitely after us. Well, in that case, they know that we’ve helped your tribe, and have declared us enemies...”
Hassar spoke up, “Glathil, what are we going to do??? We’ve lived there our entire lives! We can’t just leave! Why don’t we go talk to the High Mage? Maybe we could sort this out that way.”
“Has he ever given mercy to an enemy? Can you remember just once?”
Hassar quieted. No. The High Mage never gave mercy. Not once. Not ever.
“We’re outcasts now, Hassar. Probably more of a shock for you though. I was planning on leaving soon anyway. This whole war...killing all these people...I’m getting tired of it. Well, first things first, we have to change our looks. I’ve got just the thing”
Glathil rummage through his satchel and carefully removed many small objects and a metal vial. He opened the vial and very carefully poured its contents on the other metal objects. These soon began to grow, and became recognizable as...
“LIRTHIM?? A full lirthim set of armor???”
“Two. I thought you might join me when I left. Anyway, I realized the need for some good armor. No physical attack can pierce these sets, and it takes super-strong magic. I figured they’d be good, so I swiped a set.”
“Alright you two,” Zauk interjected. “Get those on to yourselves. We’ve got an army to outwit. They’ll come on yer tracks sooner or later, and follow them to here, so we have to act fast.”
Glathil and Hassar were donning the new armor when suddenly the cave began to shift around them as Zauk moved them out from under the path. The roof loomed closer, and Glathil, now fully armored, leaped up through the soil to the forest floor, followed by his friends.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
Zauk provided them the answer. “East.”
Suddenly, one of the Avenger’s tracking animals let out a roar, and the chase was on.
Why are they going east? Can Zauk actually help them? What will Hassar and Glathil do as outcasts from their own race? Can the three evade the Avengers? Come in next week for answers!
Out of the mist of the encroaching night came the roars of the tracker’s beasts. Glathil, Hassar, and Zauk stood stock still, but only for a minute breadth of time. Then all three started running in unison toward the east, a last-ditch effort for survival against the legendary Avengers.
Footfalls echoed in an empty world, devoid of meaning. Time ceased as the trio sped their way through a world of shadows, weaving through the giant trunks of the ageless pines. It was a footrace of greatest speed and highest stakes; the three men running without ceasing while the Avengers came ever behind. They hardly stopped for anything. They lost all sense of being as the days blurred by. By the third day of nonstop running, Zauk and Hassar were beginning to flag behind. Glathil was fine, for Kopatsarins never sleep, being beings of substance and structure dissimilar to that of humans. Although Kavasgz are tough and enduring, even they need sleep at some point. Zauk was no exception. Hassar...he was a Kopatsarin...Glathil could not fathom the reason that he was falling behind...there was something behind it, but he was not worried about it then.
The forest thinned, and eventually broke, bringing them to a broken land of jagged, barren hills, and sudden canyons. Their endurance and skill were pushed to the very limit as they leapt across the hills and over the steep ravines.
Hassar panted, “We can’t go on any longer like this, Glathil. We need rest.”
“But where?”
“Perhaps Zauk could hide us...”
They called the run to a halt, asking Zauk if he could hide them somewhere underground. Zauk, hardly conscious, agreed. The hole he created, though hardly as subtle and intricate as his trap, was functional. Leaving only a small shaft for air, they climbed in, and within seconds Zauk and Hassar were asleep. Glathil took the time to meditate...deeply.
The Guardians of the Breaks stirred...intruders in their land??? How dare they!!! The Guardians moved quickly, and by daybreak, it was finished. The intruders would never leave their tomb...
Glathil’s sixth sense finally broke through to his consciousness. He came to in a misty fog...something was hindering his thoughts...drawing him to sleep..............sleep......................sleep.............sleep???
NO
He awoke in a fire of anger, finding himself in a thick black fog which threatened his very existence. He kicked the others until they regained consciousness. There was instantaneous understanding among them...something, someone, had poisoned them, and if they didn’t get out soon, they wouldn’t get out at all.
Glathil tried his fire magic, but the solid earthen chamber held them fast. He began to dig upward when he noticed Zauk...who merely stood there, as if resigned to his fate.
Zauk’s eyes suddenly flashed brilliant green. The earth around them shook. Then they fell, plummeting downward through the earth, pushed by the strongest of earth magics. Glathil dove at Zauk, who was obviously out of his mind. He was taking them the opposite way they should go!
Then they broke through the roof. They crashed onto the stone walkway in a pile of rubble, dust settling on the ground beside them.
Zauk mumbled, “It was either up or down...down was closer.”
Glathil began to speak, but was suddenly awestruck by the room they had landed in, or rather, the room outside the hallway they had landed in. It was colossal, a vast structure, with a large, red-tinted slab of stone set in its exact center. Monolithic columns supported the incomprehensible weight of the roof. Excluding the hole they had made upon their entry, not a single stone was out of place.
But it was empty. Nothing stirred. An overwhelming silence, an aura more powerful than that of the room itself, held sway.
The group walked the short distance to the end of the hallway, where they were able to see the source of the light which illuminated the room. The globe rested in the outstretched arms of a statue of a man with two swords strapped to his back. He stood against the near wall. It was obvious—whoever carved this sculpture spent unimaginable time.
They moved over to the statue, feeling its polished surface in their hands.
They looked up to see the shadows. The Guardians had come. Their ethereal forms slipped out from behind columns, out of archways, and from the floor itself. The shadows were of mist, but the weapons they held were real; maces bristling with spikes, halberds, greatswords, claws, spears, flails, every weapon imaginable to mind.
Behind them, out of their sight, the man emerged from the statue. So long imprisoned...he coldly stared at the shadows, then turned to the men who had come. They were strong—he could sense it. But they were ignorant. They didn’t know how to defeat the Guardians of the Temple of Light.
The trio readied their weapons and magic. Glathil said under his breath, “Out of the frying pan, into the fire...”
The man, now standing in their midst, replied.
“And now, my friends, you’ve walked direct into the furnace.”
Who is this man? What is he doing trapped in a statue?? How will they defeat the Guardians of the Temple??? And why won’t I go to a third page to show the battle????
Bah. You’ll just have to wait till next week, you impatient person.
The group was shocked by this man’s sudden appearance. There he was, two black swords strapped to his back, with a fire in his eyes.
“Do not be alarmed,” he said, “I am the Servant of the Black Fire, the one true left. These shadows are merely the corrupted images of the men who once protected it. They are sad...they used to be my friends. Now, they only remember their task. When I saw them changing...” he shuddered, “it was horrible. So I made this statue of myself, and trapped my soul inside it that I may be true to my mission should need ever arise without becoming one of them. But centuries later, when I knew the power had left...the great Magic which we had served, I felt it wise to finally leave the Temple. There was no need to stay. But when I attempted to do such, they attacked... I’m sorry. I digress. They won’t let us out alive unless we fight our way out.” He turned to them. “. Help me fight these demons. Remember, they are shades. Our weapons cannot harm them...”
Thud!
The shade slammed into him with amazing force, knocking him over. It raised its warhammer for the final blow. Glathil reacted instantly, blasting fire into it. But the flames passed through, and the creature remained unharmed. The hammer came down. CRASH! The Servant had dodged the blow with astounding speed, and was already back on his feet. He leapt high over the shade’s head as it swung again. As he landed, he reached through the shade’s....erm...shade, grabbing its weapon. He threw the warhammer at a different shade, and both the weapon and shade exploded on contact.
The other men took the hint. They sheathed their own blades and ran at the other shades. Every time a shade’s weapon hit another shade, it exploded, turning the shade to naught. The battle raged silently throughout the room, but it was evident that the men were not going to win. For every shade they destroyed, more came in. The battle was not going well.
Zauk fought his way over towards a wall, but he blundered. He got himself trapped, away from his fellow men. He was finally hit against the wall and knocked unconscious. A wisp of shadow entered into his mouth, and his eyes turned black.
Glathil saw it happen.
“Noooooooo!!!!” He screamed. His rage built, an unbearable fury, adding to his power. Shades turned to dust all around him as he fought, but he could gain no traction. He could not move closer. Suddenly, the largest shade of them all loomed above him, wielding the greatest mace he had ever seen. WHAM!! ...make that the greatest mace he had ever felt...
Glathil soared through the air, high above the heads of his companions. He struck the statue with chilling force, but he was not unconscious, unfortunately so. His bones were shattered, and he was bleeding from many places. As he lay there, by whatever quirk of chance, or cruelty of fate, the globe fell.
Glathil looked upwards as the globe of light fell. It shattered upon impact, light filling the room. But Glathil... Pain surged through every pore. The Darkness of the globe stormed in, wreaking havoc down to his very soul, bringing with it the greatest torture ever felt. A look of torment crossed Glathil’s face as the Light of his soul fought with the Darkness of the globe.
Then it was gone. Glathil was shaken to his core, but the pain was gone. There was nothing but a numb feeling in all of his body. His eyes glowed black in the brightness of the room.
The shades rushed from all sides, ignoring the other combatants. But Glathil suddenly lashed out at them, throwing a web of strange dark material around them, entrapping them. Glathil’s face was that of wild glee as the shades were destroyed by the Black Fire he now wielded, turning to naught.
The other shades stopped attacking.
For the Master had returned.
His companions looked at Glathil in horror as they bore witness to what happened. What had happened to Glathil? What had he become?
Glathil stood in the midst of the shades as they bowed to him in homage. He gestured towards the prostrate figure of Zauk, heaped against a wall. Instantly, a mist departed from Zauk, and floated into the air, turning to nothing. Zauk awoke, standing up and moving towards the rest of the company.
Glathil suddenly spoke in an ancient tongue, a language forgotten by all but the servants of the Temple of Light. A look of understanding passed upon the faces of the shades. Then, looking upward, they turned into smoke, and then to nothing.
Glathil stood by the statue. He suddenly wavered, and then fell to the ground, knowing no more.
Then the Temple began to fall. Hassar instantly took charge of the group as sections of the roof fell about them. He picked up Glathil and ran after the Servant of The Black Fire. For if anyone knew the way out, it would be him. The group ran through endless corridors, forever only one step ahead of being crushed by giant boulders that fell from the ceiling and walls.
They finally came upon a staircase heading upward, a broad sweep of stairs that no doubt had been the main entrance to this Temple in ages long passed. But when they reached the last step, they were trapped. The stairway ended with a great wall of earth that blocked any further movement.
But Zauk was not at all foiled by this obstacle. He began removing huge chunks of earth from the wall, throwing them back down into the darkening stairwell, carving a pathway up towards the promise of freedom and life.
Then, suddenly, they had arrived. They stood blinking as the sun beat down upon them in the now welcome environment of the Breaks. No one recognized where they were, but anywhere was better than in that infernal place they had left behind. They walked to a nearby grove of palms and sprawled in the shade.
All but one. He jumped up and down upon, kissing the ground every now and then. His enthusiasm was not shared by the others, but they truly understood it. After having spent less than a day in the Temple, they could not imagine how he had not lost his sanity from the eternity he had spent inside it.
After a couple minutes of resting, Hassar turned, and tended to Glathil.
“Well, he’s not dead, but I have no idea what’s happened to him. He’s not doing well either... Unless he gets a Healer, he’s going to die.”
What has happened to Glathil? Will they find a Healer in time? And who is this man who they have rescued from the Temple of Light? More explanations to come next week! (I promise)
Zauk asked the man they had saved in the Temple, “Hey, what’s yer name?”
“Baron.”
“Of what?”
He had a quizzical look for a moment, but then replied, “Just Baron.”
Hassar then spoke, “Well, Glathil’s not dead, but I have no idea what’s happened to him. He’s not doing well either... Unless he gets a Healer, he’s going to die.”
The realization shook them back to real life. Suddenly, all intents of rest were shoved aside. They must help Glathil survive.
Hassar, now in charge with Glathil’s unconsciousness, got them all in order, and then headed out. They paused for a few minutes to create a sled to drag Glathil in, and then headed out at a fast walk, each man with a hand on the line. They headed for the high plateaus of the Agbahins, which they hoped to reach by sunset. Unfortunately, they were only accessible through one of the highest mountain ranges. Even now, they troop could see the ice-covered peaks of the Aerr Mountains thrusting up from the ground.
The new day now shone with its full intensity, but none of them complained, even through the night of little sleep, the searing heat, and the sweltering humidity.
The day dragged slowly on as the group worked forward through the ragged terrain of the Breaks. It was softening now as they came to the footholds of the Aerr Mountains, but soon they would miss it. A mountain climb by one’s self is bad enough. A mountain climb carrying another, nigh unbearable. But either luck, fate, or a good sense of direction guided them, for they struck a large and well-tended road soon after they began the climb.
High up in the peaks, they paused briefly for an unsavory meal, then pressed forward through the rapidly cooling air. Soon they were in the mountains proper, with the cold air around them. Noses ran like faucets, and a sniffle was ever to be heard, but they continued on. Glathil seemed to feel nothing of the effects of the weather. His skin was warm to the touch, but not overwarm. Whatever had invaded his mind certainly didn’t want him dead, but the battle continued silently throughout the day.
Soon the group encountered the first patches of snow gleaming in the afternoon sun. They weren’t the last. They passed drifts and mounds of snow as the temperature dropped even further.
As they passed into the high peaks, the temperature dropped below freezing. The snow began to block sections of the road, and sheets of ice appeared all around. As they turned a corner in the road, they saw it.
A lake. A frozen lake, to be specific, stretched out in front of them for over a mile. They was no way around, to go under would take too long, and going above was not an option.
Hassar mumbled curses under his breath at their bad fortune, but Baron continued out to the lake.
Hassar shouted to him, “Hey! Wait! We can’t go out there. It’s impossible to get ourselves and Glathil across. We’ll have to go around.”
Baron turned back to them. “Around? Why so?”
“We can’t find any grip on the ice. Think!”
A slow smile passed Baron’s face as he made an odd request. He asked them for their shoes. They began to protest, but as Baron quite obviously had an idea, the protestation didn’t last very long.
Baron, upon receiving their shoes, quickly ran his hands over them, and then handed them back. Zauk and Hassar quickly put the shoes back on, cursing Baron under their breath for making their feet cold without providing any sort of solution.
Baron said, “Let us continue.”
Hassar stepped closer. “Do you get it, man??? We can’t even walk across the lake, much less drag anything! Why..."
“But you are.”
“...huh?”
Hassar looked down to find that he truly was standing on the ice. He tried his grip. It was as solid as if he was wearing cleats with iron spikes.
“How...”
“Later. We must press on.”
Hassar and Zauk took up again the burden of Glathil, and began the long walk across the lake. They never slipped, not even once.
The walk went fast, and by the time they were standing near the far side edge of the lake, they could see the great plateaus of the Agbahins standing imposingly less than a league away.
But they also saw the Beasts, along with their red armored Masters. The Avengers had found them. But how? It didn’t matter. No one ever escaped them.
Baron knew instinctively that these were enemies. And, unbeknownst to anyone else, quietly began to hover a fraction of an inch above the ground.
They all lay down their burden drew their weapons. Hassar was safe from most anything, wearing a beautiful set of pure black Lirthim armor. Zauk quickly fashioned himself a covering of rock from stones he summoned. Baron was unarmored, but unlike any of the others, he was completely unafraid. He approached the Avengers in a commanding air, and spoke to them in a voice deep as a growl.
“Move yourselves off the road.”
The Avenger captain responded by drawing his sword and charging him. Baron didn’t move a muscle as the sword came whistling down toward his head. But where the captain thought to hit flesh, he hit ice. Baron was no longer there, but a foot to the side. The commander swung sideways, but again the blow did not fall. This continued for a few more jabs, until the commander barked a single order, and all hell broke loose. Beasts charged and swords rang in the snowy glade as the small troop fought desperately to hold off the Avengers. Avengers fell on every side, but they were inching closer and closer to where Glathil lay. As finally they encircled the sled, Hassar knew he’d finally have to reveal his secret.
He unstrapped the breastplate of his armor, and stood, as if in contemplation. Then, he arched his back, and flexed his muscles. His shirt ripped as he revealed his Agbahin legacy. Wings. They soon grew to full size, an awesome span. He walked over to the sled, picked it up, and without warning, began his flight.
A half hour later, Zauk and Baron stood alone in the glade, their enemies dead. But it came without warning to them when they were picked up from their rest and catapulted through the air.
What has happened to Zauk and Baron? Is Glathil safe? Will I think you’ll be satisfied with the few explanations I've given, or will I reveal more?? When will the next episode even be???
Glathil’s mind swam in a vast sea of chaos, buffeted by waves of confusion, and hammered with the blinding force of a thousand disjointed memories as this ancient power hard-wired itself to him. Deep within his consciousness, he saw a figure, vague and ethereal, gradually growing clearer. It what that of a man, tall as a giant, strong as a demon, the wings of a dragon, and glowing eyes of the darkest black. It emanated an aura of wisdom, anger, and supreme power. It looked about itself, as if admiring the invisible world without. Then its eyes turned to Glathil, boring into him, seeing all his bad decisions, his lack of foresight; every last one of his faults. Then it faded into the nether of his mind...
Glathil awoke with a start, dripping in a cold sweat. His mind was focused with sudden clarity as he took in the world around him. The room was black as pitch, but, though he did not comprehend it, it was visible as day, as a room under a blacklight. Zauk was asleep in a corner. Glathil could make out numerous wounds from a battle, already treated by a very good Healer. Glathil rose to a sitting position, and was astonished. All of his broken bones and torn muscles had been reset and healed. Glathil inspected the room, opening drawers, searching through cabinets. He found nothing until...aha...a small crystal. He sat on the large bed and peered into it. The crystal worked its magic upon him, and his vision turned in upon himself. Glathil understood instinctively. A meditation amulet. As his memory of the past few days was blurred, and his mind out of sorts, he relented to the magic of the crystal, and wove himself into the magics of the mind.
* * * * *
He was brought to the present by a hand shaking his shoulder. Before his mind was cleared or even recognizant of it, his arm whipped around, catching the intruder by the wrist. When he returned to consciousness, Glathil saw himself holding Hassar by the wrist in a vice grip. He realized what had happened, and let go.
“Ouch. What was that all about, Glathil?”, said Hassar, wringing his hand.
“I don’t know...”
“It’s ok. There are many things here even I’m not so sure about. Maybe it’s some sort of protection spell by the Master Healer”
“Could be”, Glathil said, not believing himself.
“Well, it’s time for breakfast. Feel like eating?”
“Yea, I’m starved.”
As they walked down the hallway toward the dining hall, they were met by Baron, coming from his own room. A look of shocked recognition passed his face as he saw Glathil, turning towards a demeanor of submission and respect. Glathil was confounded by his actions, and questioned him on it.
Baron responded, “It is the Master. His mark is clear to those who know what it looks like.”
Glathil said, “So you know something about all this? I would very much like to hear all about it.”
“Alright. I will start at the beginning. I was born a human in a small village in a rural area, many millennia ago. I lived a rather normal life, until one day, something materialized in a ruin nearby. As I recognized the force of magic at work, I was the first to be there. What I tell you now few living have heard. I saw a man, incredibly strong, slumped near a portal. He was very weak, and oozing magic in waves. I nearly went insane with the power of the magic thrust upon me. He spoke in a tongue I did not understand, but I eventually grasped his meaning. He wanted something, anything, of magic essence that he could bind himself to, and thus not lose any more of his power. I ran to the village, and stole the one thing I knew was magical: an orb of power, left by the Kavasgz to protect us from the lesser demons that prowled the wilderness beyond. Already, his magic had manifested some of its minor forms in me. By the time he had sealed his self within the orb, I had become the master of two things, [Through many attempts, he was able to explain the ideas of friction and inertia to them]. We made something of a cult, dedicated to his preservation; indeed, some of us believed he was a god. And the rest you know. His magic eventually started turning us into shades, one at a time. Many fled, but some stayed. Of those that stayed, only I survive, thanks to you.”
This conversation lasted them well through the meal. Afterwards, they set out to explore the vast city which they had all miraculously gotten to. It was the capital of the tall, fierce Agbahins, protected from the elements without by strong magics, and controlled from within by a king, elected from among the populace every century. As Agbahins are immortal, this term is short, contrary to the opinions of the lesser creatures that dwelt unknowing of them just miles away.
The city was immeasurably old, constructed entirely from marble, mined centuries ago at latest. Gardens lined the walkways, and a sweet smell permeated the air. Trees grew here and there betwixt the vast halls of powerful lords. In the center of the city was a partition wall, surrounding a low mesa. It was here great duels took place among the stronger members of society that shaped the life and politics of the city. And it was here that the group was eventually drawn, to marvel at the displays of power by the great and small of the Agbahins.
They arrived in time to view a most spectacular duel. They gleaned that the subject of the duel was a most stunning woman, which two men vowed to wed. As they had been unable to settle their differences peaceably, they turned to a faster, more decisive method—a duel to the death.
The duel lasted nearly two hours. In the meantime, winds of gale and hurricane force rocked the mesa and swords clashed in deafening rings as they battled to the bitter end. Eventually, it came down to a show of raw power, as one of the men rocketed the other into the dividing wall, then drew his sword, and cut the unconscious body of his opponent to pieces.
After the duel, they walked around the arena, speaking in hushed tones about the events that had just taken place. However, it soon became obvious that they, in specific, Zauk, had become the subject of a very mean conversation of a group of younger Agbahins. They felt him so weak that they did not even deign to hide their contempt for his very presence.
Zauk remained calm.
They continued their endless barrage of insults, covering all sorts of subjects, insulting him head to toe.
Zauk became angry.
Yet still the group proceeded to demean every aspect of the young warrior. And Zauk, having shown a considerable amount of patience, finally turned and confronted them.
And thus the duel began.
How will Zauk fare in the duel? Will Glathil suffer any more effects of his experiences in the Temple of Light? What will they do after this? Next week begins the strongest episode yet.
A change came over Zauk as he faced the young Agbahin fool. His eyes, normally dull grey, flashed a brilliant, deep green. His normal clothes, a mere set of dark green pants and shirt disappeared under a sudden sheet of rock, as Zauk summoned up a coat of armor from the stones beneath his feet. In the end, he stood, a stony grey monster, a thousand points sharp as daggers protruding off the armor. Into his hand he conjured a massive warhammer, as tall as he himself, with such a monstrous head as to boggle the mind, but which he swung with the ease of a rapier—his earth magic doing most of the work.
The young Agbahin expected not such a formidable opponent to materialize out of this normal looking young Kavasgz, but in all honesty, he did his best. Cooler heads on both sides, however, saved the duel from turning into a war.
The Agbahin mage did a backwards somersault, flipping himself twenty feet backward, partly with the help of magic of his own. Zauk merely stood, a smug smile barely discernable on his stone covered face, as the Agbahin mage sent an awe-inspiring vortex of super-charged air magic at him. The blast hit Zauk square in the shoulder, ripping off his armor and exposing the raw skin underneath. Zauk roared in defiance and met the next blast with a boulder ripped from the ground below. The boulder shattered at the blow, but Zauk used the smokescreen to his advantage. As Zauk flung another boulder of incredible proportions, the Agbahin mage panicked. He shot another, and then another blast of air, both blocked by the stones Zauk threw. As the smoke cleared from the last shot, Zauk rushed through, and delivered a crushing blow to the Agbahin’s plate armor, crunching in the entire chest section. But before Zauk could deliver the killing blow, a stronger mage rescued his friend.
Zauk faced off with the new opponent, his breathing hard, but his determination strong. This new mage sent another blast of air, similar to that of the other, towards Zauk. Zauk attempted to use the same method as the last one to dispose of this new challenger, but just as he swung his immense warhammer, the Agbahin mage leapt clear above his head, firing an extra strength bolt of air at Zauk as he passed overhead. It hit him square in the back, shearing off his armor from his neck to the middle of his back. Zauk turned, and with piercing rage in his eyes, charged the Agbahin.
There is nothing quite like an angry Kavasgz with nothing to lose bearing down upon you. It is supremely terrifying. But the Agbahin held his cool with a certain amount of effort, and sent multitudes of blasts like needles at the charging figure. Zauk’s armor became riddled with holes as many of these hit him, blood oozing from the open wounds. Finally, Zauk was hit in the face with a strong vortex. He fell over on the ground, unmoving, ripped to pieces by the relentless attack. The Agbahin moved, his sword now drawn to avenge his friend.
But the blow never fell. As the sword sped ringing through the air, a blinding flash met it mid-arc. Next anyone knew, it was singing through the air, landing blade down in the stripped earth. And between Zauk and the Agbahin stood Baron. Baron was a tall man, strong, and clothed in a suit of his own designing. His armor was a leather harness, reinforced by blocks of a rare, whitish wood on the shoulders and forearms. However, the attention to detail required in its creation was entirely lost on the Agbahin mage, who, without pause, drew a hidden dagger, and flashed it towards Baron’s open chest. But as his arm came out, Baron, quicker than thought, waved his hand at the approaching blade. Glathil looked on with mouth agape as he saw what happened next. The arm holding the blade reversed direction, smashing into the Agbahin’s chest, winding him completely, and knocking him backward (one must remember—Agbahins are no weaklings).
The Agbahin stood himself up and threw down the dagger in disgust. Impossible! But perhaps....
He quickly stepped over and retrieved his dagger. Dust sprang up from the hard-packed earth as he sped towards the calm, solitary figure of Baron, but the closer he got, the slower he became. He strained against the force with all his might, but his pace slowed to a walk. Finally, he stood within striking distance. His hand again flew out at Baron, and, predictably, Baron summoned his magic in response.
And fell into the trap. The Agbahin’s hand again reversed directions and knocked him into the ground. But the magic he had summoned—a simple rush of air—rocked Baron back twice as far. The Agbahin quickly recovered and retreated nigh the whole length of the field, and stood in a fighting stance, a cruel smile upon his face.
Baron stood up, annoyed at his falling into such a simple trap, revealing his one weakness to a no doubt intelligent enemy. But there still was a chance...
Baron began an all-out rush at his newly arisen foe. Aided by his magic, he gained velocity with more speed than the greatest of sprinters. Shapes and colors swam around the Agbahin as he shot wave upon wave of needle-like blasts of air. But nothing was fast enough to fool the Physics Mage. With simple hand motions he changed his own inertia, dodging the blasts like they were lumbering moths. A fury of magic unleashed his direction did nothing to slow him, and so with frightful speed, he met the Agbahin head on.
Baron sent showers of blows upon the Agbahin, breaking numerous bones before he let the poor Agbahin fall to the floor. He began to walk off the field.
“Come back! I challenge you!”, an armored Agbahin shouted.
Baron turned, and so another fight began. To save you the boring bits, I’ll simply say it such: the Agbahin unleashed a hellish amount of magic upon Baron, and Baron, for the most part, evaded it with blinding speed and agility.
Finally, they both stood panting upon the field facing one another. The Agbahin then pulled the most cowardly move he could make.
Baron heard a rush of wind about him and, fearing another attack, decided to turn the tables, and instead bring the attacks to the attacker.
He rushed the Agbahin, but the Agbahin just slipped away. Baron began to find it harder to breath...ah...the Agbahin was just wearing him down.
Now, instead of his body, he used his magic to propel himself at an outrageous speed at his adversary, but yet again the Agbahin remained just out of his grasp. Breathing was becoming extremely difficult, and his vision began to blur.
Hassar watched the battle with considerable contempt as the Agbahin’s plan began to succeed.
Suddenly, Baron could force no more air into his lungs. His consciousness took leave of his control, and he fell upon the ground. As the vacuum around him took full effect, he began to turn blue. His organs shut down, and he began to die.
Will Baron die? What will happen next? Will Glathil pursue a protracted vendetta against the Agbahins, or will they all just get slaughtered then and there? Come in next week.
Hassar jumped from the sidelines as he dashed to save Baron, who had been trapped within a vacuum created by the Agbahin mage. He threw up a wall of air which broke through the vacuum, allowing Baron to breathe. At the same time, he knocked down the Agbahin Mage with a guided gale. The Agbahin leapt, and took to the sky upon his wings. Hassar, having not retracted his wings since rescuing Glathil upon the frozen lake, followed suit.
They flew about, launching blasts of air upon one another. Hassar was hit once, and almost was thrown to the ground, but was barely able to keep up. They kept this up for some time, but then, the Agbahin, having had more experience in aerial combat, climbed to an extremely high altitude. Once high above Hassar, he tucked his wings like and eagle and dove, plummeting down. Along the way, he gathered magic upon magic until he held a hurricane force in his grip. Hassar looked up, and reacted as fast as he could. Using his Kopatsarin water magic, he blasted supercooled steam at the Agbahin, deadening his air magic somewhat, and also freezing his wings. With his wings frozen, the Agbahin could not slow his descent. He fell screaming to earth, landing with a sickening thud, like meat being hit with a hammer.
Hassar looked, aghast. He had not meant to kill the man. He only wanted to protect Baron. But obviously his motives weren't being considered—two more Agbahin Mages took to the sky, seeking revenge for their fallen brother. Hassar, not wanting to fight, did his best to dodge their magic and swords, trying to reason with them. But they would have none of it. Hassar began to flee from the battle. What had started as a competitive duel had turned into a deathmatch with fatal possibilities. As he flew the circle of the air above the arena, his magic, having been used, was beginning to run out. Unlike true Agbahins, he had to continually rely on magic to even stay in the air. With his magic running out, his wings began acting strange.
Glathil watched from below as Hassar dodged about, even as a light began to appear from the wings of Hassar. Soon, white feathers began to fall about them, some of them even on fire. Hassar began to have real difficulties staying aloft. The pain he endured was severe as his wings began to disintegrate. With the overload on his senses, and his magic failing him, he began to black out.
Glathil watched from the sky as Hassar's wings disappeared completely as he lost consciousness. Hassar began to fall from above. Glathil, fearing his fate to be similar to that of the late Agbahin Mage, began to run to where Hassar would land.
But he wasn't being fast enough. He just knew it. He forced himself to run harder, a last ditch effort to save his friend's life. But even this didn't help. Hassar was still falling, falling, and Glathil would not be able to save him.
Hassar's body was now clearly visible, but Glathil rushed on, not believing that he could not help him. The body was only one hundred feet from the ground now, with Glathil being half as far away. But Hassar was just outside his grasp. Glathil debated for a split second, and then launched his black fire. To the astonishment of all—including himself—he was able to catch Hassar with this arcane magic. Which, though it normally did, this time did not burn nor electrocute. Glathil pulled the magic in and grabbed Hassar's limp form. He begin to walk off the arena, carrying Hassar. But the other two Agbahin Mages were not satisfied. They landed in front of him, drew their swords, and advanced.
Glathil called to them, “Halt! I am not your foe. As of him, you have won! Your enemy lies nearly dead within my grasp.”
One replied, “Nearly dead...”, he said with a cruel smile upon his face. “That is indeed the problem. Hand him over, unless you too wish to get hurt!”
Glathil responded, cold and menacingly, “Do not, my dear friends, make threats you cannot enforce.” Glathil's eyes began to glow black.
One of the Agbahins shouted “Fool!”, and then they both attacked.
Glathil quickly but carefully laid down Hassar, even as the two Agbahins charged. With no time to spare, he flashed out his magic, hitting a blow that sent them flying. The very air around Glathil began to grow dark. As they recovered, he summoned up a shield to block their vicious blasts of air. They approached him a second time. This time, he did not hesitate. He sent a flaming ribbing of Black Fire at them, lighting their clothes with a powerful magic flame that consumed their attire. They ran humiliated off the field as the magic rendered them... uncovered.
Yet still more Agbahins lurked around. Another group, nearly a dozen strong, attacked. But Glathil was in fine form. He fed off the residual magic of the arena, making himself stronger than ever. As each new foe arrived in turn, he blasted them out of the air with powerful spheres of magic.
The earth began to rise about his feet. The air in the arena turned cold and dead as the sky darkened around the epicenter of Glathil. The ground rose to where Glathil was standing on top of a steep hill, cracking as it shifted. Storm clouds gathered, and the wind began to rush.
His visage was terrible, yet awesome, as deeper than the earth, and louder than the storm, Glathil roared out to the crowd below, “Are there none who can oppose me? Are there none who dare challenge?”
The Agbahins, a proud people, responded immediately. All the bystanders took to the air, and began to blast apart the area. Glathil took a few hits, getting tossed around some, yet at the same time feeding off the magic. With a blow that shook the city, Glathil called down a huge tower of impenetrable black magic, shielding himself from every attack and blow.
With such magic being employed, the metropolis unleashed its enforcers upon the troublemaker. They took to the skies and began to send wave upon wave of supercharged air upon Glathil. With such a beating given to it, the shield collapsed. The enforcers turned their attention to Glathil himself, blasting him with such powerful magic that it could uproot a forest. But Glathil didn't move—not one inch. Glathil raised his arms to the heavens.
From the horizon, faster than the eagles, a dragon of Black Fire flew towards the solitary figure upon the hilltop. Colossal, it completely blocked out the sun, A single blow of its magical breath threw the Agbahin Mages from the sky. Glathil leaped hundreds of feet into the air, mounting his magical beast. He sat for a moment upon his mythical steed, victorious over all.
Then, a part of the true Glathil began to cry out from deep within himself. Glathil isn't a killer. Glathil isn't a dominator. Glathil doesn't hurt the innocent it screamed. From deep within the trapping of another's magic, Glathil wrenched himself back from the edge of the pit of evil. Someone else, something else, had used him. He had let himself get taken up in the magic, almost becoming that person. He had saved himself just barely in time.
As Glathil dropped all his magics, and lowered himself to the ground, he shuddered. He knew who was doing this to him, and he knew where it resided.
In himself.
Will Glathil be able to clear this with the Agbahin authorities? Will he be able to heal his friends? And most importantly, will he be able to save himself from what is now a part of himself?
Thus ends part one of the Tales of Alturon
Hassar is cool.