Ffh Nes Ii

[MasterofDisasta]

My orders aren't in yet, but I'm finishing them up right now. I'll post when they're done so you can put up your stories.

Edit: Something just came up, I won't be able to finish these until 5 PM forum time today, sorry.

 

[hbar]

Orders in. Here's hoping the three lurkers are aiming somewhere away from me...

 

[kenkrajen]

Are MasterofDisaster's orders in? I have a story or two to post, but I don't want to influence what he does by putting them up too early.

smells like a counter attack, are you tipping ur hand?

 

[Seon]

Story time *_*. I hope it is not that massive project Sidar was working on if it is, than I feel sorry for the poor Luchuirup and the Als. If it is something like the Great Library(ie: good thing to loot), than there is something wrong about the 'priority' in the minds of the Sidar(Digs a hole in the ground to hide)

 

[orangelex44]

No, not exactly. I'm going to be making a whole bunch of paper flowers, and giving them out to all the little dwarven girls so we can be friends. The boys get basketballs. I didn't want Master to try and steal them away from the children.

 

[Tyrs]

Well, my orders are in. I'm excited to see how this turn unravels

 

[Terrance888]

Immy, can you send a copy of my stats without my orders to Ekolite please? I can't change the spreadsheet.

 

[Immaculate]

I really don't like the idea of doing that. I'm sorry but if you want him to see your stats you'll have to paraphrase it...
I don't consider it ethical to send one players stats to another even if they ask for it. What you do is up to you but i'm not getting involved.

 

[Seon]

No, not exactly. I'm going to be making a whole bunch of paper flowers, and giving them out to all the little dwarven girls so we can be friends. The boys get basketballs. I didn't want Master to try and steal them away from the children.

Okay now you finally shed some light into Sidar set of priorities and mindset.

 

[Ekolite]

Orders will be in at about 9:00 am tomorrow, our time.

 

[orangelex44]

Yeah. Puppies and rainbows, that's the Sidar...

 

[MasterofDisasta]

I just sent my orders in, so lets hear those stories.

No, not exactly. I'm going to be making a whole bunch of paper flowers, and giving them out to all the little dwarven girls so we can be friends. The boys get basketballs. I didn't want Master to try and steal them away from the children.

Ha, good luck with that plan - you'll never be able to tell the boys and girls apart. Unless you somehow organized a giant project to find out how to detect the subtle differences between dwarf genders and then managed to educate your entire populace about it ....


... I think I just just discovered the Sidar's secret project.

 

[orangelex44]

First of all; there is a bit of a timeline issue here. The first story starts slightly before the last update; together, all four of them could last anything from three years to ten. The point is, the events here occur rather early in the 25-year turn.


There are four stories in total; the first one is quite different from anything else I've done, while the other three are really just a single, long story split into three parts. The two storylines impact each other a bit, in some overt ways and some more subtle.

Here, I have the first story, which uses the major character from my last efforts. He is... rather different than he used to be, not that he was a common sort to begin with. You'll understand what I mean later.

I also put the first section of my second storyline in this post, since I have to split them up to maintain the charater limit for the forum. That story is more Lanun-esque, but there are a certain number of twists that show the difference between them and the Sidar. Between the two stories, there are a lot of events that are never explicitly stated that effect what everyone does, and why. I may or may not bring some of them into future efforts; some of them you'll find out through the update. Note, I believe I still managed not to completely reveal just what my "secret project" consists of. Keep wondering on that, guys...

All in all, what these stories have done is changed what I view the Sidar to be, and completely altered the civilization's worldview. Just wait until you see my new flag...

Prepare for a triple post, all.




Creation

Spoiler :

-FLASH-

He remembered the north. Again. The pitiful handful of diseased refugees, those who had crossed mountains and rivers and survived a forest full of enemy troops - slaughtered one and all, at range, with no attempt to communicate or order them to turn back. Slaughtered at his orders, and often enough by his hands.

He remembered the terror, when he realized that it had not been enough as he and his men began to develop the signs anyway... they'd kept themselves under a quarantine to keep the Militia safe, but the Scouts were surely doomed. Some men had suicided, others had tried to run and been killed by their brethren. In desperation, he'd ordered his troops to follow him out of Sidar lands and along the path of their enemies, and miraculously, all had followed and none went missing. The plague was stopped, but he and his men were slowly dying as they marched behind the enemy to the doomed city...



-FLASH-

There were fires everywhere. Buildings, set alight in combat, in resistance, in retribution - people, plague victims or casualties of war - trees, from the recent lightning storm. A few had survived the march, and those very few had disguised themselves and gained entry to the city. One had wondered why they bothered, and that one had been killed at his own hands. Executed. They were all infected by now, and most were wounded, but they were still in better shape than many in the city.

Death comes to all, even the Shades. It is good to remember this. It is better to remember that death comes to your enemies, and that you can grant it to them...



-FLASH-

Corbus were weaker than they appeared; they had weak avian bones from their twisted heritage, and a skilled warrior could easily kill one with bare hands alone. There had been four of them around the child; all had died, and the child would not survive the hour. He thought he might, though his plague-weary bones cried only for death. Or perhaps Death; this plague gave it's victims visions, and Death lay often in front of his eyes.

More were coming. Not Corbus. 'Al. Slavers as well. Why not? A few more could die today; perhaps if he was lucky he'd be counted among them.



-FLASH-

A miracle, of sorts. His fever broke; the plague was weakening. He thought the others were all dead, yet he survived. Death was still close, though, always just in the corner of his eye. He was due for a heart-to-heart with the ghoul, but not just yet. He had finally remembered his duties, and as much as he enjoyed this piecewise killing of enemies, it was time to make the process more efficient.

Some had recognized him; how, he had no clue, since he no longer recognized himself. He tried to tell them the Captain was dead, but they still pledged to follow him. Whatever; they were willing to fight, so he would lead them in a dead man's name. Some were hiding in the sewers below, others in the streets along, and yet others in the buildings above; their target was coming directly at him. The proud dwarves, leading a scruffy pack of Hallowed. Let them come. He smiled, and drew his sword as a thrown spear pierced the lead dwarf through the eye.



-FLASH-

They were still willing to fight, but he knew they were no longer able. There were too many enemies, too many 'Al and dwarves and bird-freaks and slaves, too many of each and too many of all, and too few still able to raise sword against them. It was a doomed cause from the start, one more in a series. It was enough, it was time, he was SICK of these doomed endeavors and TIRED of always fighting the odds, always seeming to do just enough to make the next loss harder, harsher. Shades were supposed to get less attached to the world, more able to accept these things, but this crucible had changed him. Was he more human, now, than he had been in a long time? Or was he something different entirely, some meta-Shade or post-Shade or a simple aberration, a fluke of horror and pain? Too late to know.

It was time to talk to Death. He turned, and this time the fiend no longer fled to the corner of his eye. He turned, and It was right there, RIGHT THERE in front of him to talk to. He hadn't expected such courtesy.

"Greetings, Death," he said. "I believe you wanted something of me?"

Death smiled. "You are mistaken. I do not desire you to do anything. Not even die. I came, instead, to offer you my help - an offer I do not make to just anyone, and an offer that you have been trying to refuse for quite a long time now."

Sigh. Death was going to be difficult about it. "Please.... ask me anything, Death, and I will do it. I'll climb the highest mountain, swim to the furthest sea, swear fealty, anything... just let me go. Let me release. I give back to you what I took so long ago - my life. It's yours to take, just please, TAKE IT!" He was screaming now, a pitiful screech forced through a hoarse throat. He stopped, and whispered. "Please."

A laugh. The black-coated bastard was laughing at him. Despite his own promise to himself, he felt anger. Anger, and sorrow, and pain, and a slew of other feelings he had tried so long to keep inside. He would break soon, yet he would never break. He'd promised himself that. A paradox.

Death laughed once more. "You presume much. You did not take your life from me; I never had it in the first place. I hold no one's life; every man keeps that to himself. It has always been yours to give. If you had truly, truly wanted to give it to me, you would have done so long ago. No, dear Shade, you can keep the life you value so much and so little. I have other plans for you."

Lies. All lies. They had to be. Death refused him, now as he always had. Even when he was willing, when he offered his life of his own will, Death still refused. Fine. Let him refuse. He'd take his own life, then, and force Death to accept it. He placed his sword at his neck, and pushed.

Death smiled. The sword drew blood, then stopped. Death was grinning now, a horrible rictus that infuriated him. His anger rose, and the sword dropped from his throat and rose to attack. A swing, some resistance, then the sword left his hand.

"You still live, Shade. You still live. No longer are you a Shade. You are no longer a shadow in this world, tenuous and without influence. No, today you are Adam, a new man, and one who will create new life..."

"NNNNNNNnnnnnnnooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!" Adam screamed. "I AM DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME! I AM DEAD!!!!" The sword still lay where he'd dropped it at Death's disappeared feet. He picked it up.

"I am dead." He looked at his reflection in the blade. "Dead." He dropped to his knees, and bowed his head. "Dead." He put the sword in his scabbard. "I am dead, and yet Adam lives. Damn you, Death. Damn you and your tricks. I had wanted no part in this. I had wanted death. That was all I ever wanted, I think."

Another laugh came within his mind. Adam rose to his feet, and started walking without caring where his feet lay. Apparently without thought, they turned towards the Darkvale road.


-FLASH-

He simply walked past the Luichirp sentries at the new border. Perhaps his new patron had blinded them, perhaps they simply didn't care about a single bedraggled man, perhaps they were flummoxed by his audacity to walk right past them in the middle of the road. Whatever it was, he left the occupied lands that were once his own and continued toward the capitol. The Sidar pickets didn't stop him, either.

They were waiting there for him. A priest, dressed in grey so dark it looked black, along with two nearly identical men in regal clothes. Brothers. Waiting for a king.

"Welcome, Adam." the priest said as he approached the trio. "We have been expecting you. Laroth had told me much."

"Laroth, is it?" Adam grimaced. "Name him truly. Death he is, the avatar of the ending, and a god."

The brothers Horonz looked at each other. Adam knew what they were thinking - they doubtless knew as he did that Laroth was a mortal. Or rather, was once mortal. No matter - Death the man had become. None would dispute the matter with him, not anymore. He had seen death and Death, and they were one and the same.

Adam continued. "As he has become Death, so we have become the Dying. Shades we are no longer. Shades are shadows, lost in the world and not of it. All who participate in the world must die, so as the Dying we must take action within the world. Further, as the Dying, it is our duty to see that all are taken to that sweet end, and not abducted by minions of undeath, be they demons or angels, knowing or unknowing, willing or no. Death is our goal, gentlemen - for us, for others, and in the far future, for the world. All must die in their time - we shall see to it that this sacred pact is kept."

So the king said, so it would be. The first named to die were of his own people; a harsh command, but just by everyone's judgment. Die they did, and in that very hour the first legions of Adam were born in the Gray Arch, to ensure that all would meet their Death.



Death watches us all. Some he watches more closely than others. Some he has us watch on his behalf. Many of those we watch are called to him, and we are glad to escort them to Death’s alter.
canta 1, verse 1, Proverbs of Adam

The Three Brothers, part 1]

Spoiler :

The Storymaster begins, "A story, eh? You younglings want a story? That I can give you. Shades hold many stories, echoes of lost ages, ages long dead except for our minds...

But perhaps you do not wish to hear such ancient tales. Perhaps you wish to hear of a more modern era, our time of blood and death. That I can do. Let us start, then, with the brothers; not the brothers Horonz that are part of our nation's leaders, but three brothers unknown to you as of yet.

Ajax, Anrai, and Aimo. Those were their names. Ajax was the eldest, though none of them were much older than you are now. Ajax had yet to see his fifth decade, Anrai and Aimo were in the midst of their third, not twins, yet only a bare year separated them. Ajax was a warrior, born to the task it seemed, and the two younger men had followed him into the acts of war.

Whilst Ajax was the near epitome of a soldier, Anrai and Aimo were most definately not. Anrai was more the thinker, weak of limb but able to make up for this lack with a quick mind. Aimo, the youngest, was without both of these advantages. His only talent seemed to be the blessing of Death Himself, since Aimo managed to escape the grasp of Old Bones time and again.

You know enough of the brothers now, I think. Time to get along with the tale..."



It was stupid, is what it was. Citizens, armed with nothing better than clubs and stones, had faced off against the best spearmen of the 'Al. The outcome was a given.

Ajax almost regretted the disappearance of the Captain. Despite the Elder Shade's obvious decline into insanity, Soldier had never lost his good battle instincts, and would have been able to convince these dead men to put themselves to better use. Ajax, being nothing but a common grunt (albiet a Scout, with an implied elite status, but still a grunt) had not been able to do so. Stupid idiots. Still, Soldier had obviously been losing it, and Ajax did not regret leaving the man to his own devices and working himself into the resistance instead. Besides, it had meant a promotion - Ajax was a commander of his own cell, and the way things were going, would soon be the last commander of any cell.

Looking at the site of the massacre from his perch on the building above, he spied a couple slaver bodies buried beneath the dozens of Sidar. It hadn't been a complete loss, then. To the 'Al, a single soldier was pretty much indispensible at the moment, while to the Sidar, citizens were a dime a dozen. Of course, the Sidar were losing many dozens, and the 'Al were far from the only people occupying the city. Proving that point was the mixed squad of Luichirp and Hallowed who were approaching the bloody street. The Hallowed soldiers looked at the 'Al with obvious dislike, even hatred, but the dwarves always managed to keep the peace somehow. Soon the ravens would show up as well, since despite their earlier declaration of neutrality the featherfreaks were taking their sweet damn time to extract their men from the city.

When the Corbus eventually showed up, they would be able to see him watching the area. Avian eyes were better than human. Ajax sighed, and started to move down through the building. He threw a cowl over his head as he exited to a side street, and immediately blended in with the rest of the Shaded citizens. He was glad he was a resistance member, rather than an occupier; the Sidar had well-earned reputations for stealth and insularity, and being able to hide and hate were the two skills needed for a good resistance. It didn't hurt that Shades all tended to look like one another, especially as they aged. Natives easily recognized one another, but the only occupying army that seemed to be able to do the same were the Hallowed, and even they could be decieved using the simplest of tactics. Thus, an individual Sidar was invisible in the greater mass, meaning that Ajax's still walked the streets instead of hanging on the walls.

The whole resistance, really, was stupid. What would it gain? Ajax knew as well as anyone could what the leaders back at Darkvale had to work with, and no matter how he thought about it he kept coming to the same conclusion: help was not coming. The Sidar were too weak. There simply was no one available to regain the city, and in fact, it would be difficult for his nation to survive at all.

Stupid or not, his innate Sidar dislike of outsiders still worked on him, and he knew that he would never stop trying to force these invaders out. The Luichirp, the 'Al, the Hallowed, even the oh-so-peaceful Corbus - they could capture Sidar lands, but holding them would always be a costly preposition. As long as the Sidar still lived, anyway.

Motion, at the corners of his eyes. He's spent too long on mental soliloques - and now he was surrounded. Cloaked men moved in on him from all directions. There were a very few Sidar who cooperated with the invaders; he'd killed most of them, but a remnant of a remnant still remained. Were they now coming to take revenge?

Then the man in front of him lowered his veil, and Ajax froze.

"Anrai?!?! What are you doing here?" Ajax was talking too loudly, he knew it, but couldn't stop himself. "What madness possessed you to desert and come here?"

His brother smiled. "Not desertion, brother. Madness I'll grant. We cannot talk here, though - do you have a... quieter... place for my friends and I?"

Twenty minutes later, and they were all hidden away within a partially burnt warehouse. It was originally condemned by the authorities, but with a little subtle urging the building had been spared from demolition. Instead, the resistance had taken over, rebuilt what was necessary, and were kept hidden from prying eyes. Currently, some six dozen men were inside, nearly half of whom had come with Anrai. Without their outer coverings, it was obvious that they were all Militia, like Anrai... was? Had been?

"Brother, this city means death to you. Perhaps, if you leave now, you can escape it." Ajax said.

Anrai gave a wry smile. "Death? I think not. If you can survive with nothing but dumb muscle, I'm sure I'll be fine. I can avoid fights, when I must." As if to refute that last statement, Anrai was held a small dagger in his hands, playing it from one to the other.

"That is not the point. This city is beset with plague. More than one in ten lie dead; nearly one in three are sick and look to die." Ajax pleaded. "I do not know whose blessing let me survive my bout with the damned sickness, but I do not trust the same will happen to you. Leave, please..." Ajax had never been good at pleading.

"You think I had no knowledge of the disease?" Anrai's smile grew slightly. "I volunteered to come. We all did, with the knowledge that our deaths were a virtual certainty. Death comes to us all, in His own time; whatever shall happen shall happen, and I do not wish to hear more on the matter. Adam told me you still lived and fought in the city, and I felt I could do no less. Along with the men here, nearly a third of the Eighth Militia are slowly and secretly making their way here, carrying food, gold, and the best information attainable."

Impossible. Such an endeavor meant that Darkvale would be woefully unprotected. Yet someone, somewhere, obviously thought the risk worth the reward, and here was the proof. His oh-so-smart yet stupid brother, along with dozens of soldiers. Militia, but nonetheless experienced, and better by far than the raw civilians he'd had to work with. Too bad that half of them would be useless within a week; he'd have to get as much use out of them as quickly as possible. Damn Anrai, anyway... always wanting to be the knight in shining damn armor. Maybe he'd beat the odds with the plague; hadn't Ajax? Maybe...


Three weeks, and he knew. It was no use. Anrai was sick, and none knew of anything that might help his brother. Ajax saw him die, slowly, day after day. The worst part was that Anrai had never stopped smiling, never stopped trying to help in whatever way he could, and if anything seemed to become happier every day at the thought of meeting his death. Or Death, as Ajax's mind kept phrasing it, but that couldn't be right.

"Ajax, this is useless. Even with my reinforcements, the best you'll ever do is kill a couple hundred of the invaders." Anrai coughed, a terrible convolution that involved his whole body in a painful dance of sorts. He recovered, eyes watering, then went on. "Accept it. What you must do is kill the right couple hundred invaders, and we might yet do some good."

Ajax knew his brother was better at this sort of thing than he was, but dammit, it was so hard to listen and reason when Anrai lay on his deathbed. He tried to hear what Anrai was saying, though.

"Who should I kill, then? Tell me, and I'll do it, and then I can get you out of this damn hellhole."

Anrai's smile was back. "Hellhole, brother? This was once a mighty city, and now you claim it as a hellhole? Perhaps it is less than pleasant... but you presume much when you try to limit my stay here. I find this hell to be quite acceptable. Better than the barracks, anyway."

Ajax gave a weak attempt at a smile; it did not harm to humor Anrai, though it tore his heart to do so.

Anrai gave a careful chuckle; sometimes a laugh would set off a cough. "There, you can see the lighter side of things. Now, as to who to kill... I misled you a bit when I said that. It is not precisely who dies, but rather, it's how they die. Your goal must be to split this unnatural alliance of our enemies. If the 'Al and Hallowed can be persuaded to fight each other despite the Luichirp, then it will be impossible for this occupation to persist. Start a war, brother..." He raised his hand, and in it lay a dagger.

Anrai's eternal smile turned on his brother, and this time it was returned in truth. Ajax grasped the hand and dagger, and he felt some last remnant of strength in those fingers. For a moment, they shared in the joy that is revenge. Then Anrai began coughing again, and the moment shattered as Ajax tried to comfort his brother.


Four days later, a newly-dug grave was found outside the city. It was unmarked, with only a small dagger jammed in the ground to serve as a headstone. A day after that, a dozen Hallowed troopers were reported missing, and the bodies of three 'Al spearmen with Hallowed arrows in their throats were lying in front of the Luichirp headquarters. And so Death began to infest the city.





Aimo hated his job. It really had been his own fault; he'd joined the Militia on a whim, with a damned coinflip. He hadn't minded it initially, but that was before they started making him do all this wierd s***. Really, these people had been dead for years, so what possible good was it going to do to carry the bodies back home anyway? They were nothing but bones...


"... ... ..."

The children look up at the Storymaster. "Aren't you going to keep going?"

With a smile, the Storymaster shakes his head. "Not today, children. I believe I have given you enough to think about for the moment. Perhaps tomorrow I will tell you the story of the third brother, if you remember to ask. For now, if you still wish to listen, I have others you may wish to hear.

Perhaps a tale of fallen Patria? Or, maybe, one of the Wandering Sage's stories? Some say that the Sage doesn't exist, but I know better. The Sage was the one who caused the Age of Ice to end, with nothing but a sword, a prayer, and some Amurite rabble..."

 

[orangelex44]

The Three Brothers, part 2

Spoiler :

The Storymaster begins, "Yet another story, children? I suppose I can do that for you. What is it you want to hear?"

The various children around him all start gibbering excitedly, each one of them shouting for their own favorite story. Except for one, that is.

The Storymaster notices, and bends down to speak to the quiet child. "Shadyn, you don't want to hear a story today?"

The girl looks up at him. "Storymaster, I do want to hear a story. I was trying to remember the name of which one I wanted to hear. I think it was the tale of... Amo? Emo? Elmo?"

The Storymaster smiles. "Aimo. I wondered if any of you would remember. Very good, Shadyn. I shall continue, then, my tale of the three brothers with the story of the third and youngest brother, Aimo, the lucky..."
Put the bones in the bags. Put the bags in the boxes. Put the boxes in the carts. Haul the carts back to Darkvale. Return for more bones.

Aimo wondered what crime he had committed to be stuck in this purgatory. Surely his sins were exonerated by now! Damn his commander, anyway, for "volunteering" Aimo for this farce of a duty.

More bones. More bags. More boxes. More damn carts, and more effing hauling.

Black Tower had been a relatively small outpost, but even a small outpost held thousands of people, and that meant there were tens of thousands of bones. Thousands of bags. Hundreds of boxes. And seemingly unending hauls...

Aimo had to stop this. Thinking too much about what he was doing would drive him crazy, if it hadn't already. Did crazy people know they were insane? Did wondering whether you were insant mean you were insane? Diverting questions, and Aimo hated diverting questions. Bring some alcohol! Bring some women! This boy needs to purge his mind! It was not to be, however. Only more of this horrid work, and more, and more...

Three months of duty, and finally the last cart was loaded and hauled. If Aimo would have been a reflective soul, he reflected, he would say it was a morbidly impressive sight. However, being completely unreflecting, it was simply a monument to his wasted time.

Then came the new orders from on high: empty the boxes. Where, he asked along with his pitiful comrades. Right where they are, was the answer, and Aimo once again started wondering if he was insane. He was convinced that he was the last sane man in the world, and that must mean it was him that lost his mind. Obediantly, angrily, he began.

The neatly stacked boxes, full of bags of bones, were dumped out on the ground. The bags were ripped open, the bones left in piles everywhere. Aimo rather guessed that this was less than healthy for him, to be handling all these bodily remains, but what the hell. He was only a Shade, with a potentially unlimited life to cut short. Not important at all, really.

Yet healthy he stayed, along with the rest of the shanghai'd Militiamen. Even the worrisome Disease he'd heard about was not in evidence; apparently the intervening decades between these people's death and transportation had caused the Disease to move off. He hoped so, anyway - all of them were forced to stay away from people "for the duration," whatever the hell that meant.

Another two weeks, and the job was done. A joyous occasion. Until, that is, he saw that someone from on high thought so to... since the day they finished, a dozen important-looking individuals came to look over the bone-strewn field. One of them looked suspiciously like Adam himself, but that couldn't be right.

The Militiamen were herded well away from the Very Important People, by some men with the look of grunts. Aimo looked at his nine compatriots, then at the six well-armed, determined-looking guards. He moved slightly away from the guards, placing himself at the rear of the Militia grouping. It wouldn't do to get on the bad side of these guys, since he'd be without good backup.

The People in the Field (Aimo thought of these things as Important Things Worth Capitalizing in his Mind) were apparently wandering around aimlessly. Odd, that - Aimo had been sure that there were exactly six of them out there, but now he kept counting seven. Insane again? Or just forgetful, and bad at math?

Finally, the People in the Field Met. Not met, but Met, with the air of something about to Happen. To Aimo's suddenly Interested eye, the person who looked a lot like Adam was obviously deferred to by the rest of the the People. Except, possibly, for one of them, who was wearing a decidely unrespectful smirk. Odd, that none of the others seemed to comment on his unseemly behavior, but then again, the rest of them all seemed to be simply ignoring him entirely. Even the maybe-Adam simply gave the odd man a single glance, which was more than the rest did at all.

Aimo waited, and the Important People Waited. And they waited and Waited. Until...



Aimo ran. The blood on his face was slowly cooling and drying from the wind of his pace, but he wasn't about to stop for simple things like washing off. No, life was a bit more important right now. And forgetting everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes; that was very important too.


"Storymaster," the girl Shadyn asks. "Why did you skip over part of the story? It sounds important."

The Storymaster pauses in his telling. "It is important, yes. However, I do not wish to tell that part just yet... you'll have to trust me, Shadyn. I promise I'll tell you of it later. For now, let's go back to Aimo, and hear the rest of his tale first."

Aimo didn't know where else to go, so he went to find his brother. Not Ajax; Ajax was always judging, always being the "responsible" one. No, he wanted Anrai. He'd be able to consider the problem more carefully, and Anrai somehow managed not to make Aimo feel like an a** for getting into these situations.

The problem was that he didn't know where the hell Anrai was. They'd been assigned to two different Militia divisions, and currently the Eighth Militia had seemed to drop off the map. Perhaps they were dead. Or worse, maybe they were... Aimo stopped thinking. Not thinking was safer.

Actually, now that Aimo thought about it, he really didn't know where Ajax would be, either. The Scouts were always scattered all over, so it wasn't really surprising, but usually there were some rumors traveling around that gave a little clue to their location. Now, there were none. Just his luck - both his brothers get themselves lost, just when he could really use the help. People always said he was lucky since he'd almost died a couple times in his life and ended up fine; Aimo knew the opposite was true, since he'd almost managed to die twice. Or, he supposed, three times now. Possibly four. Stop thinking.

Living in the woods south of Darkvale wasn't so bad, though. There were no bones, at least. Stop it! Anyway, food was plentiful if you knew how to look, and in summer the weather was nearly perfect.

Of course, one can only stop thinking for so long, and for Aimo, "so long" was about two weeks. That was when he met the deserter.

Perhaps "met" wasn't the right turn. "Stumbled upon" might be better, since this particular deserter was in less than prime condition. Aimo literally tripped over the man, and it took him a good five seconds to realize what he'd hit his foot on. Mr. Deserter was less than recognizable, probably because of the small bush growing through his right eye socket.

Aimo knew his bones (he'd better, by now), and this fellow was an excellent specimen of a skeleton. Pearly white, with none of that annoying flesh to make things stinky, the only real flaw was that his cranium was rather obviously smashed in with a club. A really big club. At this point, Aimo started to have that little niggling feeling that he was going to start thinking again, but before he could start running away in terror Mr. Deserter began speaking.

Aimo had long ago finished his internal debate over his insanity, and concluded that yes, he was completely gone. So, hearing Mr. Deserter talk didn't bother him so much, especially when Mr. Deserter was firmly attached to the ground by the aforementioned bush and several strong vines. No, what bothered him was that the skeleton was answering questions he hadn't asked, and telling him things he didn't actually know beforehand. Things that he could prove, meaning that there was a very small chance that he wasn't just hallucinating. Damn.

"Good morning, Aimo!" Mr. Deserter began cheerfully. "I've been trying to talk to you for a while now, since our last conversation didn't end so well. You remember our last talk, I trust?"

Aimo, reluctantly, nodded. He wondered if it did any good, since the skeleton didn't actually have any eyes to see his nod, but damn if he was going to actually start talking to himself. Or what he really hoped was himself.

"Good." Mr. Deserter hadn't minded the nod, apparently. "Anyway, while I'd much like to catch up a little, neither you nor I have the time for it. You're about to travel to Shroudane, and I have an appointment to make."

Funny.

"Go to Shroudane, Aimo. Your brothers are there, and it would do Ajax some good to see you. When you get there, would you be so kind as to check up on a few friends of mine? They're going to be visiting me soon, and I'd like for you to travel with them on their upcoming trip."

He really hated this. Sarcasm, irony, and crappy humor? Didn't he deserve better that that?

"Now, Aimo, if you understood me, please nod again so I can go. I don't want to leave you confused."

With a sigh, Aimo nodded again, and waited for Mr. Deserter to speak again. The skeleton lay mute, and after a minute, Aimo reluctantly began to walk away. Towards Shroudane. Damn.


The city had looked better the last time he'd been here. It was less... destroyed, that time. Plus, people had seemed - well, not friendly, but at least accepting of others. Now, everyone seemed to hate each other, and he'd already seen at least a couple fights in the streets between oddly garbed men. He'd originally wondered how he was going to find his brothers, but now that he was actually here, he was much less concerned. Only a small fraction of the former crowds now traveled the streets. Hell, at this rate, he'd probably see...

"Aimo?"

...one of them any time now. Aimo turned, and there stood Ajax.

________________________________________


Ajax couldn't believe it. He'd already lost one brother to this damn place, and now the nightmare was complete. His youngest sibling was here too, and was almost certainly going to die. Hell did lie on Erebus, these days.

"How did you get here? Weren't you posted with the Third, up near Black Tower?"

Aimo's smiled, and for a second, looked almost exactly like Anrai had. Except for the eyes; Anrai had never looked quite so... haunted. "I was given a... temporary leave of absence. Or perhaps additional detached duty; it wasn't quite clear at the time, and I wasn't able to stay and ask. It's good to see you, anyway. I heard you and Anrai were here."

Ajax nearly cried. "Anrai... he's dead, baby brother. He fell to the plague more than a month ago."

"What? I was told..." Aimo's smile disappeared, replaced by anger. "... or was I? He's still here, isn't he? That clever bastard." He was muttering to himself. Suddenly, he shook himself and looked up at Ajax.

"We'll have a drink to his memory, then. One drink, while you tell me of his last heroic exploits. Then I must leave; I have someone I have to meet. Mutual friends, and all."

Ajax wondered whatever the hell his brother was talking about, but let it slide. A drink would do him good.

The Storymaster paused once more. "I know I promised I would go back to that other part of the story children, but I'm getting a bit tired. Tomorrow, I'll finish. For today, let's end with a happy tale; perhaps I should tell you of the plight of Maurau the cow?"

The Three Brothers, part 3

Spoiler :

The Storymaster begins, "Welcome, children. Welcome. Come closer to the fire, the rain today makes it cold. I wouldn't want any of you to get sick on my behalf."

"I believe I promised you all - and especially you, Shadyn - that I would finish the tale of the three brothers today. We left off with Ajax and Aimo, the two surviving brothers..."

The drink was good, but for once Aimo had meant it when he said "one". He'd left with a few rushed pleasantries, and a very confused Ajax could no nothing by stare at his brother's rapid exit. He'd almost been tempted to follow the younger sibling to see just what was so important to do when Anrai was lying dead in the ground, but what would be the point? Aimo was, frankly, a not-so-insignificant disappointment to Ajax, and he'd long ago given up hoping for any majoy change in his brother.

Ajax ordered another drink, and pondered. He wasn't very good at pondering, but the first drink had been strong enough to put him in an introspective mood. Anrai's death had not been for nothing; his advice in his last days had been a tipping point in the city. Ajax had, indeed, killed only a bare hundred people with his reinforcements but their deaths were having a disproportionate effect on the invaders. Where once the Luichirp had managed to keep the peace, it was becoming apparent that even the Elohim of yore wouldn't be able to do more than stand aside from the hate that now rose in the city.

The Hallowed and 'Al were at each other's throats. Perhaps their leaders were smart enough to realize that not everything was as it seemed, but the rank-and-file were too damned pissed off to care. Bar brawlshad been an hourly event until the troops were restricted access to drink; a mistake, since that stopped not one but two methods of tension release. Murders were starting to occur that Ajax hadn't created, and every new body was like another swing of the axe at the bonds between the allies. Even a small fraction of the dwarves were becoming... highly opinionated, and gathering their weapons for a rainy day.

Ajax's glass was empty again. He resisted the urge to get hammered, and instead rose to leave. There was more work to do, and more blood to spill.



Aimo wasn't quite sure how he'd found it, but he was sure. The little mound of dirt, with a rusty dagger thrust at it's head, was where his brother had been buried. Dead of disease, but a disease he would never have gotten were it not for these new invaders. On an impulse, he took the rusty dagger from the ground.

He heard a cough from behind him.

"Hello again, Aimo."

He turned. There stood Death, in all his raggedy glory. Really, for a master of the Underworld, shouldn't the God have some better clothes than an black-on-black patchwork cloak, a torn wide-brimmed hat, and grey robe? Hell, the robe appeared to be merely dirty, and originally white. Although, on second thought, perhaps new clothes weren't readily available down there; Old Bones was probably lucky to still have muscles and skin.

"It's time."

Time for what, he wondered? He noticed his arm was moving slightly. Odd, that. He didn't really know why it was doing that. You't think he would know, since it was his. He idly watched his hand rise.

And then plunge the rusty dagger into his heart.

Death walked closer as Aimo collapsed on the ground. He waited a second, then with a slight look of distaste he bent down and grabbed the now-bloody hand of the Shade, and pulled.

"Don't be so damned melodramatic. Get up."

Aimo laughed. "It's my death, Death. I can do what I want." He looked down at the dagger still embedde in his chest. "Perhaps I'll keep it there. At least no one will mistake me for one of my betters. Or alivers, if you prefer."

"Do whatever you want. I suppose you already have, since killing yourself wasn't necessary. Let none say that Death is a harsh taskmaster. I have only one true rule; all else can be negotiated. Just remember, they're coming to meet you now. Be ready when they arrive. General."

Aimo's smile didn't waver. "I'm no general. Just a dead man walking, who can't seem to ever get away from his problems. Damn all bones, anyway."

He took the dagger from his heart. The wound still dribbled a little blood, but less than he'd thought it would. He looked back up, but Death was gone from his sight. Sight only; Death would never truly leave, since Aimo now brought the god with him everywhere he went. Whistling and smiling, Aimo began to walk back toward the city. He still had to meet with those friends of Mr. Deserter. These invaders were about to get big problems.


There is a long pause.

Finally, Shadyn raises her hand and her voice. "Storymaster, this is a good ending, but you never told us what happened with Aimo and the bones!"

"I guess I didn't, did I?" The Storymaster gives a small laugh. "It's not so important, really. Aimo just had a little talk with a couple new friends of his."

He tells another story, then another. Soon enough, the children tire and leave. The Storymaster leans back in his chair.

"Aimo, Aimo, Aimo..." He quietly speaks to himself. "You always were a fool."


The Important People suddenly looked toward Darkvale. So did the Militia around Aimo, and then he heard it too. A wind, but an odd wind... It seemded to carry voices in it. You couldn't hear any words, and in fact if you listened closely enough it sounded like a regular wind. Still, Aimo had a nagging feeling about it.

The noise grew, and grew. It sounded like a giant storm was brewing, butwhen the wind actually appeared there was no more disturbance than that of a slight breeze. A couple leaves fell, and some clothes moved, but no more. Yet the effect this had on the Very Important People was astounding.

They ran - ran - toward the small collection of armsmen at the field's edge. Only the Adam-like person and the disrespectful one looked calm, as they casually sauntered at the rear of the group. Aimo edged further toward the rear of his group.

Something was Happening. The field looked as if it was... moving. Not an earthquake, which were relatively common in the area, but Something else. The bones. Damn.

The first of the Very Important People looked to be some military official. He slowed, panting with the exertion of running, and gasped out, "Kill them."

Uh-oh.

Aimo, if nothing else, had good reactions. The small dagger hidden in his left boot was in his hand, then in a stomach, within a second of the military man's order. With one Militiaman on the ground to slow pursuit, he turned and sprinted. He heard at least one head roll on the ground behind him.

It was useless, he knew. Surely there were more guards scattered around the woods here, to protect the People and to keep the Militia from escaping. It was worth a shot. He'd always been told he was lucky.

Fifteen minutes, and he knew it was no good. He was holed up in a less-than-well-disguised cave, and at least ten guards were standing right outside it. In a second, they would gain the confidence to enter and finish him off for good.

He heard a step from behind him. Wait... behind him? He was at the rear of the cave! He started turning, and by doing so missed seeing the rock that was thrown at him from the front of the cave. It landed on his right temple.

He woke to see eyes. Two of them, grey, that were mere inches away from his own. The dagger was no longer in his hand, and he heard voices as well.

"Should we kill him, sir?"

The eyes moved, and resolved into the odd man from before. The man that was now certainly Adam was also there, on his other side, looking at him. He looked away, and spoke.

"No. Make sure of the others. Forget about this one. He'll die soon enough."

More steps, as whoever else was in the cave left. Adam glanced back down at Aimo.

"Do you know why I spared you, soldier?"

"No." Aimo lied. "People say I'm lucky; could it be that?"

Adam laughed, a chuckle that showed genuine humor. "Lucky, is it? No, that is not why I saved you. To be honest, even I don't know why you yet live."

"Is it because I can see him?" Aimo pointed at the second man, who had given up scrutiny of Aimo and instead was investigating the depths of the cave.

"Ah." Adam followed the finger, then looked back at Aimo. "So Death does come to you today. I probably should have guessed that. Well, then - I'll leave you two to talk. There will be no one to block your exit, if you survive the experience." He gave a bow to the second man, then left Aimo's sight like the ghosts Sidar were mistaken for.

There was a pregnant pause. "Well?" AImo finally said.

"I am death, destroyer of worlds. You should have more patience." The man walked back toward Aimo. "I always liked that quote, although you may not appreciate it. It's a misquotation, actually; the original applies even better to both of our situations." He sat down on a convenient rock. "The people that came up with that are exceptionally quotable, actually. You wouldn't know, since you've yet to meet any of that particular... type of person, I suppose is a good way to put it."

"What?"

"A man of few words, I see. Or, perhaps, one with a taste for sarcasm. I can deal with either. Aimo, you are indeed as lucky as you claim. I've chosen you for an... experiment of mine."

What in the hells was this? An experiment? Of Death's?

"If I say no?"

Death looked at him. "I didn't ask you anything, did I? No, you don't really have a choice. I will, however, give you a period of time to finish any business you may have now."

"How generous."

"I try. Now, I believe it is time for us both to leave. I have other things to attend to, and the good General Rolthiff's men are about to come kill you if you stay here." With that, Death rose and started walking out of the cave.

"But... Adam said I'd be left alone!"

Death looked back once more. "Well, he did, but I told him to do otherwise about ten seconds ago. You better hurry. There's an exit at the back; I wonder how you ever missed it the first time you came in here?" He smiled, and resumed walking. "And by the way, I gave that dagger of yours to your brother. I didn't want anyone to accidentally hurt themselves using it here, and he’ll get more use out of it right now. Have fun!"



The Storymaster sighs. A fool he may have been at times, but Aimo didn't deserve the handling he'd got at Death's hands. Perhaps the same could be said for anyone, however.

He rises, and leaves his home. The rain has stopped; now is a perfect time to harvest from his garden.

As he pulls weeds, a passing neighbor calls out a greeting.

"Good day, Storymaster Anrai! How are you today?"





Death is a release; you let go, and then you fall into darkness. Not so terrible, since the darkness is that of peace, not that of screams and evil that the Ashen Veil hides so poorly. What some do not realize, though, is that you do not lie at the edge of a precipice, holding to the edge. No; you are held up by another, and sometimes He does not let go when you do.

canta 7, verse 33, Proverbs of Adam

(fun fact: all together, these are 18 pages in MS Word)

 

[orangelex44]

My new flag; created with the assistance of MS Paint. It's tough to see at high res, but there are a few... splashes... of color in it.

Spoiler :

Player: orangelex44
Civilization: Sidar
Capital: Darkvale (province 10)
Leader: Adam
Government: Centralized Hierocracy
Labor Civic: <unknown>
Economic Civic: <unknown>
Religious Civic: <unknown, follows Death Cult>
Economy: closed
Resources: wheat (I'm going to get this back!), goat
Trade: Hell, no!
Public Technologies: reconaissance, communal farming
Bee-line Tech: Camouflage
Public Military: peasant militia x2, scout

[sigh]... there we go. I'm done for a while, now. We'll see if that effort can gain me some advantage in my little altercation

 

[Seon]

[sigh]... there we go. I'm done for a while, now. We'll see if that effort can gain me some advantage in my little altercation

Supersoldiers of death himself ? so that was your plan all along. The plague leaves some survivor stronger and better than what was before? Am i Reading it correctly? That was some awesome project you had there... although I guessed it 2 days ago &#12615;&#12613;&#12615;. (How? pure lucky guess, I guessed that you were planning something dangerous...)

 

[Terrance888]

"Slowly, Slowly..." Kirgi manuvered the men. A few, who discarded the General Issue Battle-hoe and took their slings instead are preparing in case the mission failed. A few borrowed herding canes. Others tried yet again to jump as high as the Fists of Legend.

Their goal? To capture the Elephants.

There are many ideas: Plan the Eli-food Tree there and alclimatize them to settle here. Build a minor wall strong enough to keep them here. Have men go and feed them every day closer and closer. One boy already climbed on one for a few minuets and foound that he can stir by pushing the ears before he was thrown off. They only have a few days before they migrate back for another few years. They MUST be stopped and studied.

The Herders started to wave them to the river. The Elephants have see that if they follow the Crane they will get food inside their emptying body, if they don't they have seen the flying stones and the flashing blades. They headed toward the river.

At the river the Riders lept up onto their backs. Again, the Elephants are used to this, for if they let these weird animals stay they will get more food.

Finally, the newest to help keep them safe to be studied... a tough leather string imported by a small-time hunter arround the Ir-o-kee border. Today they will only put it against the Elephants skin, tomarrow they will tie it.

DAMN IT. The Elephants bucked the riders! "Warning Volley!"

The elephants didn't understand. They did it right and just want to get away from the Dead Skin, but they have learned their lesson. Tomarrow a few will want the food and fear the stones enought to let them put the Leather upon their backs,

It is going to be another tougth day.

 

[orangelex44]

Sadly, my new... creations... may be somewhat less than true supersoldiers, but nevertheless I expect them to create an interesting battle in the near future.


EDIT: and good luck with the Elephants, mate. Although I always preferred Oliphaunts, since they're wicked badass.

 

[MasterofDisasta]

Wow, those were some great stories orangelex.

It was a strange mix of pleasure and pain for me - reading something so compelling with the increasing realization that I'm in deep trouble.

Well, no one ever said war was easy.

Edit: Well, at least I was lucky enough to have moved all of the Hallowed units out of Shroudane, which should at least put a kink in that particular plan.

 

[thomas.berubeg]

Orangealex... Amurite Rabble? just you wait!

Edit: Good Stories, By the way.