_And now, after a short hiatus, we will return to the Arquenia Saga by beginning Book II: The Northlands... There is going to be some different stuff this time. I will now have the schedule about writing about the Xavier Team on Tuesdays, and writing about anything else in the world of Arquenia on Saturdays...

Part XXXVII: Team of Seven

Date: Yippah 4th, 114 A.U.

There was a loud grounding noise as the long concealed doors in the side of the mountain slowly creaked open for the first time in over a hundred years. Pieces of rock fell down, falling on the ground as the doors slid open to reveal the blackness behind it. Two shining beams of light shone out of it.

From out of the darkness, a slick low-hovering air ship moved out from under it, dust swirling underneath it, as it moved out from the doors, which slowly grinded shut behind it. The air ship moved forth for the first time in years, and away from where it had been stored for the many years since the Great Upheaval.

It was free.


A human named Astrid… …A healer for the party…

Astrid looked out the window at the mountainous landscape as it moved by, Monty beside her. The last couple weeks had been so busy… they had almost made her forget what she had done. Almost. Astrid bit her lip and she thought back at the hectic planning that had eventually led into a fluid ceremony where the members of the Xavier team had been appointed and sent out on their mission a couple hours ago. And the hypocrisy of it. That they were going to send a murderer out to try and stop the elves. That they actually thought she was worthy to fight against the elves.

She wasn’t.


An elf with ambition… … An outlaw yet by birth

Rider looked forward as the air ship moved forward through the mountains and his mind flirted back to his past—about the last time he had been out here in the open. Jaigran Outlaw, an elf who had been named after the fabled Emperor of the elves. It was his unusual last name that had elected him to be a member of the prophesy. It was his frightening first name that led him to take the nickname of Rider.

And it was the same name that almost was a hint of whom he had become: how he had fled from the elves and found those rebels that still fought against the elves, continually pressing and working, mostly with the dwarves, to get their leaders to fight actively against the dwarves until an emissary from Araelia found him and brought him to meet Governor Astrid and join the prophesy.

So that he could use his ambition to destroy the elves.


A Sla’ad will lead the group… … One who saw a slaughter great

Reynyagn checked the equipment at the front of the old machine to make sure that it was still running well. It still seemed to be working fine, despite being hardly used since the Great Upheaval. The Great Upheaval. Reynyagn’s mind went back to that day when the elves began their attack on the inhabitants of Arquenia and committed themselves to a rigorous onslaught that brought about their rise to rule…

It had been on that day that Reynyagn had been finally made free from his previous captors and found his way to discover a small group of Sla’ad trying to survive. And it was then that he used all of his previous experiment to lead them and help them to be able to survive the horror of the days to come.
And now, he didn’t know if they still lived.


An orc will help… … One will betray his friends

Number 994 didn’t particularly care for his part of the prophesy—if it was indeed a prophesy—and he found it kind of outrageous as well. That he would betray his friends? He hadn’t betrayed them… Number 994 was racking up a wealth of information to be able to help to destroy the rebels once he returned to the Mothership.

And friends? For an orc, that sort of thing was an abomination. That a true-bred orc would have friends? It was an abomination, one that would only tear himself from the main cause. An abomination. Number 994 was slightly amused by the long speech and presentation that led up to the appointment of the Xavier Team. To think that seven people would be able to destroy the power of the Emperor.

Pure folly.

…will help elf… …another will lose them all!

Zarien wished that the prophesy had been otherwise. That something else would have been prophesied about one of the two elves. That he would keep them all, instead of lose them all. Was his life all in the hands of fate? Was it fate that stripped him of his comrades and made him to lose his leg?
Was there a greater purpose in all of this?

Goblin will show great expertise... … A warrior seeks to lead and yet it won’t be granted him.

Flek wasn’t completely sure why he was the one who sought to lead… Why was it him who wanted to lead and yet unable to do so? He understood why he was the warrior… and it was to his misfortune that let him know why he had great expertise, but why did he seek to lead? And what would the fact that he wouldn’t be granted that leadership entail for their party and their success?

You know, Flek.

A dwarf who has a sign upon his head for his fixed place… … one who bears Old Weapons.

Jroldin hesitantly put the golden corsha axe back into the box that he had originally found it in. According to Brother Tomas’ indication, the strange corsha weapon he had found was once the Old Weapon of the Dwarves, a powerful artifact that once had great importance before it mysteriously disappeared. And ever so mysteriously reappeared when Jroldin happened to find it. He didn’t know what it was, but it was an Old Weapon. And Brother Tomas was sure that the prophesy had caused him to find it.

Jroldin was disturbed by that fact.

Seven members of the prophesy looked ahead to their quest along with their comrades: Reklen, Monty, and Brother Tomas all looking ahead to the demise of the elves. That their group of seven, along with their three companions, might be able to strike down the elven tyranny.

_The last part of Book I: The Star...  So sit back, and enjoy the conclusion of Book I: The Star.  I will after go on a week hiatus of rest, and then return on a Tuesday-Saturday posting schedule on January 31st, 2012.

Part XXXVI: The Xavier Team

Date: Amanela 20th, 114 A.U.

“So these are the great mountains in the north…” Flek said as the cruiser began to make its way on a winding route up the mountain that was already obscured by the darkness of the night.

“Not quite…” Reynyagn said. “There are greater mountains further north than these, although these are regarded by many as the northern mountains as few other than the dwarves, orcs, and a few elves ever ventured further north…”

“The orcs?” Flek said. “I know why the dwarves since they live here, but why…?”

“The orcs lived in the northern mountainous regions,” Reynyagn replied. “Although they had a few outposts and cities down here, south of the dwarven mountains, they stayed to themselves primarily north. The only ones who had contact with them was the dwarves, and the elves, seeing as their lands to the west went far enough North so that they had contact with them. It is likely for that reason that they, being the more reclusive of the races, were willing to join themselves with the orcs.”

“Ah, ok…” Flek said.

“We are not more reclusive than other races,” Number 994 stated.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Reynyagn said. “Perhaps what has been in the past is not the same in the present. However, I am no judge of the present; I have not seen many orcs or read anything about them now. But I do know the facts of the past, as cited by many well-known and reliable historians.”

“Does your knowledge explain to you why the Emperor has lived so long?” Zarien asked.

Reynyagn was silent for a moment. “The Emperor has indeed lived much longer than the average elf,” he said. “By far… As for why he has lived so long…” Reynyagn paused. “I do not know. I have heard rumors… inklings of things… but nothing conclusive, and so, I do not have any answer for you.”

“I wonder if there are any dwarves up here…” Reklen said.

“I hope so,” Flek said, joining in Reklen in gazing out the window.

“I would tend to doubt it…” Reynyagn said. “If the dwarves survived, they did so by staying hidden, not by staying out… and also given the darkness of the night-”

“What’s that?” Reklen said, gesturing to a light in the distance.


“You all ready?” Governor Astrid asked as she got into the old elevator.

“I suppose,” Jroldin said as he looked up at the ceiling. He moved back to make space for Brother Tomas, Astrid, Monty, and two guards. He stared back at Rider, the elf whom he had recently been introduced to: the elf whom Astrid thought could possible be a member of the prophesy.

“Then we’ll go up,” Governor Astrid said, pushing a button. “We’ll go up to the surface, and once again see the night sky that has been hidden from us for so long.” The elevator doors closed and the elevator slowly made up its shaft—a path that it had not often travelled—up toward the surface far above—a freedom which so long ago had been taken from them.


“Keep your position on that moving light,” Flek said, eagerly moving up next to Zarien.

“I’m working on it, I’m working on it,” Zarien said, spinning the wheel to follow the light in a chase up the mountain. “This machine isn’t exactly made for quick chases though…”

“I’m trying to chart its course and what kind of machine it might be,” Reynyagn called from where he was at another part of the controls. “I may be able to get a reading on it.”

“Is there a way to get to the roof of this vehicle?” Number 994 asked, gesturing to the ceiling. “If we get close enough, I can safely take it down without hurting its inhabitants.”
“There’s a hatch in the back,” Reynyagn said without taking his eyes off of the controls. “You can get it up there and see if we can get close enough for you.”

“Will do,” Number 994 said, and he ran back to the hatch.

“Getting closer…” Zarien said as he spun the vehicle to try and keep up with their target’s erratic route.

“What is that?” Flek asked.



The elevator doors that had been concealed in the face of the mountain slowly opened and cool air slipped in to its passengers. And slowly, they stepped out into the plateau and the cold night air. To their right, shining in the star, was a bright blue star. Transfixed to the glow, as if moved by some outside force, Astrid and Jroldin stepped forward at the same moment.

“It’s…” Astrid said.

“It’s captivating,” the elf Rider said, stepping beside them. “It is the call of the star. And it is calling us for a purpose: to strike down the elven tyranny.”


The vehicle screeched to a halt, and slowly, Reynyagn stepped out, eyes captivated by the sight in front of him, as Flek, Zarien, and Number 994 followed him, Reklen following close behind.

In front of them, the electric blue star shone forth, illuminating the night sky, silhouetting the figures in front of it.

“It’s just a star…” Reklen mumbled.

“Yes,” Reynyagn said, stepping forward as the others followed him. “But it is so much more… It is calling the team toward them.”

“It… it is as if I know my destiny…” Zarien said. “That after all these days, I know what I should be doing.”

“A sense of duty non-conforming to the good for all orcs is wrong,” Number 994 said. “And yet…”

“It is our destiny,” Flek said, stepping forward toward the figures also looking to the star. “Andf it is a destiny we must embrace.

The figures near the star turned toward them. “Who?” one began.

“We are the members of the Xavier Team,” Reynyagn said. “And we are here to fulfill our destiny. We are the hope of Arquenia.”

End of Book I

_One more part to the finish!

Part XXXV: Naming Day

Date: Amanela 19th, 114 A.U.

A low hollow note sounded on the gong and Jroldin nervously shuffled his feet as he peeked out from behind the door at the small group of people gathered in the Great Cathedral. His heart was still racing a bit from nearly getting killed after a gunman tried to shoot him before the gunman realized that he had shot all of his bullets already.

After that hadn’t been any less chaotic either. Between scourging the hideout of the gunmen, meeting up with his dad and learning that his dad had actually remembered about Naming Day, and being rushed out here, his heart was still racing. Brother Tomas was beside him, and Jroldin spotted Astrid and Monty out in the audience. Brother Tomas had wanted them to come to try and talk with them and Governor Astrid later, after the Naming Day ceremony. He was pretty convinced that Astrid was part of the prophesy. Jroldin watched as the doors to the sanctuary opened and Governor Astrid came in, followed by four guards and… an elf!

Jroldin remembered what Governor Astrid had said about finding an elf that possibly was a member of the prophesy, but still, to have an elf for his Naming Day ceremony… This fact only made Jroldin more nervous.

Jroldin slowly turned toward Brother Tomas who was standing beside him, waiting with him. “I’m so nervous,” Jroldin said.

“Such feelings are not uncommon,” Brother Tomas said.

“Yes, but…” Jroldin said, and he sighed. “I don’t even know what I want my new name to be.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Brother Tomas said. “Most people generally have some idea or another, or…”

“I never talked about it with my dad,” Jroldin said. “And I don’t know… I don’t really have any good ideas…”

“Well, a name is a serious thing…” Brother Tomas said.

“Thanks,” Jroldin said. “That’s real encouraging.”

“I’m sorry,” Brother Tomas said. “I would give you some help, even some personal experience, but, being a human…”

“Yeah, I know…” Jroldin said, and he leaned back against the wall. “I just hope I can figure something out in time…”

“I’m sure you will,” Brother Tomas said reassuringly. Just then, Oldin came around the corner of the hall way on his left. Jroldin glanced to the right at the door leading to the sanctuary before turning back.

“Hello Jroldin,” Oldin said, wiping his brow. “Sorry I’m a bit late; I was meeting some people at the door.”

“That’s okay,” Jroldin said, and he pursed his lips. “I just…”

“What?”

“I dunno…” Jroldin said. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do up there—what I’m going to say, what name I’m going to make for myself, I…”

“You’ll do fine,” Oldin said kindly. “I myself didn’t come up with my name until I was asked to give it, and then it just came out of my mouth. Perhaps it will be the same for you.”

“Maybe…” Jroldin said, still a bit unsure.

“You’ll do fine,” Oldin said. He turned to Brother Tomas. “Are you ready?”

Brother Tomas nodded. “Everything in place.”

“Then if it’s fine with you and you’re ready enough,” Oldin said, gesturing to Jroldin. “Then we’ll begin.”



Jroldin breathed softly, for once actually enjoying every bit of a ceremony. But, throughout it between the dripping of oil upon his head and the long-winded speech by Brother Pietre, his mind racked for a possible name to give himself. Finally, Brother Tomas gestured to him, and Jroldin’s heart pounded. It was time for him to give the traditional speech. And at the end of it, to give his name.

“Greetings, all,” said Jroldin. “I… I’ve been thinking a good bit about what I should say here, and what I should give for my new name…” Jroldin paused. “I confess that I’m a bit frightened with choosing a new name, a name that will stick with me for the rest of my life. And I suppose the previous events of today between being kidnapped and being rescued and all of that doesn’t help with my nervousness.” Some people in the crowd laughed. “But,” Jroldin continued. “I suppose that I’m not just able to procrastinate here with my name like I have done so often with my homework.” A lot of people laughed in the crowd this time, and Jroldin smiled. “But I suppose that this isn’t something I can procrastinate like my homework. It’s something I need to do. And looking ahead to my future, seeing as a good many people think that I might be the dwarf in Xavier’s prophesy, I suppose that it looks like it is time for me to really grow up and become a man. And that’s what this day is supposed to be for a dwarf. To become a man. To grow up.” Jroldin paused. “And to be honest, I’m not ready for this. And not because I don’t want to become a man. But because I’m not there yet. I’m ready, I think. But I’m not there yet.

“But I suppose that perhaps it doesn’t matter,” Jroldin said. “Perhaps the Naming Day is just supposed to point one ahead to something, even though he isn’t there yet, and so…” Jroldin took a deep breath, and in that moment he decided. “And so I will give a name to point me ahead for the thing which I seek. And so, as is customary with this Naming Day ceremony, my name is no longer Jroldin. This day my name is Jacob.”

“However, if you look at me, I am not a man. I am not close to being one. The Naming Day is to point me ahead… But how can I have a new name when I am not yet a man?” Jroldin paused. “Therefore, I look ahead to the day when I can inherit the name Jacob, but until then…” Jroldin paused. “Until then my name is Jroldin. Just Jroldin. Until the day cometh when I will inherit my new name. Then I will be Jacob. But for now I am Jroldin. Just Jroldin.”

Question of the Day:Who will win the comment contest?

_Part THirty Four... the end approaches...  One special post will come out tomorrow, and then one on Saturday to finish up Book I: The Star.

Part XXXIV: A Star Shall Lead Them

Date: Amanela 18th, 114 A.U.

“You’re… mad…” Zarien forced out as he tried to escape the electrical field that the orc had put him in. “Let… me… go!”

“Shut your clamour,” Number 994 said as he hailed the speeder.

At that moment, Zarien managed to move so that a tree was in between him and Number 994. As the electrical current fizzled, free, Zarien ignored the burning pain in his chest and, grabbing a long stick as a weapon, leapt out on the opposite side of the tree, readying the stick to thrust into the orc’s neck.

Number 994 turned and shot a bolt of lightning. Ducking, Zarien moved forward and leapt once more to come down upon the orc, smashing his makeshift spear into Number 994’s chest. Before he could do so, something hit him from up ahead. A wide net, its ends holding heavy metal balls, crashed into him, his feet catching and his body being pushed back so that he flew backwards onto the ground as the net closed around him.

Desperate, Zarien struggled to get out of the net, but it was too late. The speeder slowed to a halt near the orc, and someone leapt out. It was… a goblin?

Looking much too small to be a goblin, the goblin scurried forward and leapt on top of Zarien as it brandished a corsha dagger. “Your life is in our hands,” the goblin said.

“No!” Number 994 protested. “You’ve got the wrong person! I’m the rebel! It’s the orc that-”

“Don’t move, elf,” another voice said. Zarien turned to see two more figures coming toward him, the orc slowly following close behind. One of them was a goblin. The other was a tall dark form that made Zarien shiver. Could it be? He had heard stories about what Sla’ad were supposed to look like, but he had never imagined…

“Speak, elf,” the Sla’ad said. “We will not take your life without reason.”

“I am not Jaigran’s soldier,” Zarien snapped. “It is the orc who is your enemy here, and not I. I have been fighting against Jaigran and his Empire while mister orc here has been doing what he can to stop me.”

The Sla’ad turned to the orc. “Is this true?”

“If I wanted to kill the elf, I would have done so days ago,” Number 994 said slowly. “As is, after we escaped the MOthership, we have been together for the most part, just going who knows where, though partly after that blasted bright star in the sky.”

“You were attacking him when we arrived,” the taller goblin pointed out.

“I thought you were elves,” Number 994 replied curtly. “And I didn’t wish to die.”

No one spoke for a bit. “Just let me go,” Zarien said. “The orc has admitted my innocence. I think we can trust him as long as we don’t meet any other elves. I think.”

“The star…” the Sla’ad murmured.

“What?” Zarien asked.

“You were following the star,” the Sla’ad said.

“So?”

“An orc will help elf…” the Sla’ad murmured. “An orc and elf together following a star…”

“Your point?” Zarien asked.

“There is a prophesy,” the Sla’ad said. “One about the downfall of the greatest evil to rise in Arquenia and the only way to stop them. The Xavier Prophesy.” A chill ran down Zarien’s spine. He knew about the Xavier Prophesy, although the Emperor did his best to burn any copies of it.

“We too have been following the star,” the Sla’ad said. “I, Reynyagn, a Sla’ad perhaps to lead a group as well as one who saw a great slaughter. My companion, Flek, a goblin with great expertise who possibly is the warrior who seeks to lead. Only you…” He cocked his head. “The orc will help elf, yes… But which… Mayhaps one of you would be the betrayer…”

“And I lost them all,” Zarien said.

“Excuse me?”

“I lost them all,” Zarien said, painstakingly standing up while still in the net. “The prophesy said one would betray his friends and another would lose them all. Not less than a week ago, all of my friends were killed by an attack of the Emperor in the Mothership. If we can get the orc to betray his friends…” Number 994 didn’t seem particularly pleased by this proposition.

“The star will guide us,” Reynyagn said. “According to the prophesy, the star would gather the members of the prophesy together. Will this plan for the prophesy work? I see only one way of finding out whether or not we really are the members of the prophesy…”

“Follow the star north into the mountains,” Zarien said, gesturing to the mountains.

“Aye,” Reynyagn said. “According to my calculations, with the help of some charts on our machine, it seems that we must go far north beyond the mountains to where the star’s position on the earth would traditionally be held.”

“We go north then,” Zarien said, as the smaller goblin cut the ropes of the net that he was in.

“If your friend decides to come with us,” Flek remarked. “I mean, if he’s a traitor to the cause and is all for Emperor Jaigran and all.”

“I will come with you,” Number 994 said. “But I will make no promises about my allegiance and about where my proper place truly is.”

“The prophesy will sort it all out,” Reynyagn remarked. “If he’s good with coming with us…”

“We go forward,” Number 994 said.

Question of the Week:What are you most looking forward to in my serial?

_Naming Day is coming soon for Jroldin... In fact, it's on Amanela 19th, the current day for Jroldin's story... What do you think will happen for naming day? Does Jroldin get a new name? Find out soon...

Part XXXIII: Takedown

Date: Amanela 19th, 114 A.U.

“Move, move, move!” Oldin yelled into his walkie-talkie as he shot down another hapless guard. “Swarm the hideout, grab the leader, and get the prisoners! Now move!” Oldin didn’t usually participate in the forefront of their missions, but with his son’s life at stake, nothing was going to keep him away from the forefront of their mission. After speaking with the Governor last week, he likewise had the Araelian Guard working with the FRI. Astrid was very frantic to keep his son from death.

Stepping forward, Oldin quickly leapt into the hole that their explosion had created and pressed himself against the wall of the hall way, automatically aiming his gun in the right direction, before inching down the wall, keeping an eye on his wrist device that showed where he and Jroldin were. At long last, all of his training with Jroldin about what to do when captured and all of his precautions against it had born fruit. Nevertheless, Oldin would have been happier if all of his training with Jroldin had been wasted than for this to happen.



“Clear the records!” the man screeched. “Detonate the explosives and get out of here! Fred and Mike! You come with me to get the prisoners! Now move!” Brushing past the men who were putting fuses alongside the doorway, he hurried toward the staircase to their makeshift prison. Stupid guards. Stupid Jroldin. Thanks to the smart-alek son of the FRI head, their whole division of the mission had been compromised and blown open. It was thanks to the second bug that they had placed in the cell that had cued them into the reason for their compromised cover. He would have strangled Jroldin for this if not for the fact that the boss still wanted him. But there were other ways of taking revenge.


“I hear footsteps,” Jroldin said. “Someone’s coming down the stairs.”

“Someone to put a bullet in the back of our heads no doubt, or to transport us to another facility, if they have one!” Monty said. “They’re not just going to let us get away scot-free if they’re coming down for us!” From below, they heard explosions and sounds of fighting. Suddenly, an armed figure burst in through the prison doors, followed by two other men. Jroldin recognized the man as his questioner.

The man pointed his gun at them. “No wrong moves!” he screamed out. “Or else!” He turned to the other men. “The dwarf is the only important one. The others-”

“Move!” Monty yelled, and tackled his sister to the ground as bullets whizzed overhead. At the same moment, the floor collapsed.

Jroldin flailed his limbs as he fell through the floor with Brother Tomas. A moment later, and Monty had leapt after them, holding a struggling Astrid. Jroldin hit the ground hard and rolled to the side, apparently in the middle of a gun fight. On one side, multiple members of the Araelian guard collapsed. Jroldin spun his head to see a couple gang members a couple feet away—two holding guns, the other holding a long box made out of some strange-looking material.

Ignoring the pain in his right side, Jroldin leapt up and leapt towards the nearest gun-man, still a bit dazed from the explosion that had blown apart the hall way. Unfortunately, the gunman wasn’t totally dazed. As he neatly sidestepped Jroldin, Jroldin instead tackled the middle man that was holding the strange box

The man collapsed and dropped his box as bullets whistled overhead. Jroldin glanced to the side to see Monty leaping after a man while Astrid moved back and Brother Tomas made for Jroldin. Grabbing the box, Jroldin leapt up and smashed it against one of the gunmen.

The box slammed into the man, but only surprised the man. As Jroldin stumbled forward, he felt something jut forward out of the bottom of the box. It seemed to be an iron pole. Using it to grasp better, Jroldin slammed it again at the man, and, as the man fell back, the box broke.

The box flew away, part of the box melting, to reveal a corsha battle axe. But, instead of normal colored corsha, the axe head was golden. Just as Monty and Jroldin had taken down the two gunmen, a new troope came running around the corner—five gang members, readying their weapons.

Ignoring all else, Jroldin ran forward, swinging his axe, suddenly emboldened. As the bullets flew toward him, they seemed to move slower, and his aim more cleaner. As if by instinct, Jroldin sliced the bullets as they sped toward him, melting them with his axe. And, as the gunmen turned to leave, Jroldin swung forward with his axe

The weight of the axe surprised him, and Jroldin lurched forward along with the axe, cutting through a man and toppling forward, narrowly avoiding burning himself with the axe. As if by instinct, Jroldin swung the corsha axe up to block another shot. Two men toppled over, killed by Monty’s shooting. He must have taken a gun from one of those gunmen.

Wishing that he had had foresight enough to do that, Jroldin rolled around and flung the axe, killing the remaining two gunmen. The corsha axehead sliced through them and went into the wall, its axehead going completely into the wall so that only the handle stuck out. Oops.

And then Jroldin saw the man pointing a gun right at him—the man that Jroldin had thought that Monty had killed. Bigger oops. And the man squeezed the trigger.

Question of the Week:Does Jroldin get a new name for Naming Day? And what will it be?

_Part Thirty Two... We're moving up Book I!

Part XXXII: Nemesis Unite!

Date: Amanela 15th, 114 A.U.

Zarien was rudely awakened as his body jerked to the side. Eyes wide open, Zarien looked up into the eyes of the orc.

“Hello, rebel elf,” the orc said. And then a web of lightning shot out from his hand, connecting with various points of Zarien’s body. As Zarien went rigid, the orc lifted him in the air.

“You… were… dead…” Zarien forced out of his unwilling lips.

“Not quite,” the orc snapped. “And the Mothership is gone! I have searched for it for days and have not found it!” His eyes narrowed. “And you’ll pay for it!”

“Wait!” Zarien forced out. “Don’t kill me!”

“Give me one good reason not to kill you for ruining my life!” the orc snapped.

“Your… life… isn’t… ruined…” Zarien said, arching his back in pain. “Join… me… you… may… hate… me… but… together…”

“Why should I help your worthless skin!” the orc said. A bolt of lightning later and Zarien was thrown against the tree. Zarien collapsed and looked up.

“Any suspicious moves, and I’ll hold you in the air again,” the orc snapped.

“Two… are… better than one… in survival,” Zarien gasped out. “And there.. are no longer… any rivalries… between us… now that the elves are gone… right?”

The orc seemed to think about this for a moment. “And wait for you to backstab me.”

“That… would be foolish…” Zarien said.

“I’m not going to be doublecrossed,” the orc said bluntly.

“Your chances of survival… are better with me…” Zarien said. “Please… keep my gun if you don’t trust me…”

The orc thought about that for a moment, and then picked up Zarien’s gun from where it lay nearby. “Deal, elf,” he said. “But the moment I spot an elven patrol, you’re mine.”

“Whatever…” Zarien said, slowly standing up as he leaned against the tree. I’ll just escape the moment I see an elven patrol… “What’s your name?”

“Names are for the uncivilized,” the orc said. “For those who aren’t organized enough to have a better system. I am Number 994, the nine hundred and ninety fourth most powerful orc in Arquenia.”

“You don’t… have a name?...” Zarien asked, still a bit breathless from being thrown against the tree.

“Names are for those races that are disorganized,” Number 994 said.

“What-ever…” Zarien said. “So I’m disorganized. What’s next?”

“Your friends are all ours and dead,” Number 994 said.

The reminder stung Zarien. “Would you shut up, if you have any feelings at all?” he snapped. “Look, I just lost all of my friends and all you’re doing is gloating.”

“I…” Number 994 said, but he was then silent.

Zarien wiped his face. “I’ve hunted some the last couple days out here, but don’t have infinite bullets in my gun.”

“Animals are easily stunned,” Number 994 said, snapping his fingers to let a tinge of lightning run through them.

“I guess we won’t starve then,” Zarien said. “It would be good to find some civilization though…”

Number 994 narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you wouldn’t mean elven civilization.”

“I was more hoping for a forgotten tribe out here,” Zarien said. “More civilization than those blasted elves got. Why do you even care for the elves? All they do is exalt themselves over you.”

“We are equal with the elves,” Number 994 said, though his voice betrayed a bit of doubt. “There will be no tribes either. The Mothership’s radars would have picked them up; they would just as easily have been captured or killed.”

“There are mountains up ahead,” Zarien said. “Maybe the Mothership didn’t go so far and we can find dwarves.”

“They’d shoot us on sight, genius,” Number 994 stated bluntly.

“I can live with that,” Zarien said. “We’ll find some way for them to accept us. Now are you going to go along with me, or not?”

The orc muttered something under his breath that sounded akin to ‘I was supposed to be the leader here.’ “Fine,” the orc said. “But don’t think that you’re so cocky and in charge here, rebel.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Zarien said. “Name’s Zarien, by the way, as we’re actually personal enough to have names, which is much more than what I can say for an orc.”

A small shock ran through Zarien’s bones. “Careful what you say, rebel.”



Amanela 18th, 114 A.U.

“It would really be nice if I could actually call you a name instead of a number every time,” Zarien grumbled. “Don’t orcs have nicknames?”

“Rule Seventy Seven: An orc’s sole purpose is to serve the greater good to the expense of his own good,” Number 994 said. “Any personal item, such as a name, is better nil than there.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Course I do,” Number 994 said, though there was a bit of hesitancy to his voice.

“Just admit it and rebel,” Zarien said. “It’s not like anyone can stop you out here. We can start anew—make a new place without the constraints of everything old.” The orc stopped and paused. Zarien turned, and the orc stared in the distance, a sign of hope tingling in his eyes.

But then he shook his head. “The Emperor’s fleet would in due time find us and kill us,” Number 994 said. “Apart from the Emperor, there is no life.”

“Yeah?” Zarien asked. “Well I’ll be the first to find life outside of the Emperor. If I do that, then will you join us? Or would you rather be alone trying to find your way again.”

“Well…” Number 994 said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the answer…” Zarien grumbled. “You would like it, but you can’t say anything against the greater good and what nots and-”

“Elves!” Number 994 cried.

“What-” Zarien began, but then he was flung against a tree.

Number 994 pointed with one hand, and kept Zarien electrically pressed against the tree with the other. “A speeder! The elves have come! I am rejoined!”

Question of the Week: What book would you like to see made into a movie?

_Well, it's about time that plot lines start to interconnect--especially given that I have just under two weeks to finish Book I, and I plan to have all the plots connected by the end of it all! Anyways, Happy Saturday, all!


Part XXXI: Strangers Thrown Together

Date: Amanela 19th, 114 A.U.

Astrid groggily woke up to see her vision constantly focusing and refocusing as she tried to figure out where she was. The coldness of the room, the hardness of the rock, and the unfamiliar people around her was her first clue that she wasn’t in her bed at home. And then it hit her. Literally.

“Ow!” Astrid said.

“Sorry,” the dwarf said. “Didn’t see ya there. What are you doing on the ground anyways?”

“I was sleeping,” Astrid said, sitting up.

The dwarf looked at her floppy mattress nearby. “I kind of thought that was what that was for,” he said, gesturing to the mattress.

“Look, I move in my sleep, ok?” Astrid said. “And I just woke up here; I have no idea where I am or whatever.”

“Ah,” the dwarf said. “The name’s Jroldin. You’re in a nicely caged prison cell, courtesy of whoever kidnapped us here. Who are you?”

“Astrid,” Astrid replied. “I’m a nurse.”

“How’d you get to have your brother as a spy?” Jroldin asked.

Astrid’s eyes open wide, suddenly awake. “How did you know he was a spy?”

“The guards were talking about it,” Jroldin said, and he shrugged and then grinned. “That and I looted his pockets.” He flashed an FRI badge in her face. Astrid inwardly groaned.

“Anyways,” Jroldin said, “How’d you get the honor of being brought to this cell. The guards seemed pretty ticked at you. They said they were going to have to deal with you. What’d you do to offend them?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Astrid mumbled.

“Just try and make them really ticked at you,” Jroldin said. “And then the questioning goes easy.”

“But I don’t want to make them ticked at me,” Astrid protested.

“Well, not in that way,” Jroldin said. “But I mean-”

“You’re a nurse named Astrid?” Brother Tomas said, stepping up.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering how a brown-robed priest got in here. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Jroldin asked.

Brother Tomas pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Remember Jroldin?” he asked. “The prophesy? A woman named Astrid? And a healer in the party? Doesn’t it seem a bit coincidental that you could meet up like that? Mayhaps the prophesy is calling you together!”

“What prophesy?” Astrid asked.

“Xavier’s prophesy!” Brother Tomas said. “About the team of seven who would save the world from destruction!”

Astrid stared at Brother Tomas. “You think I’m a member of the prophesy?”

“Well, maybe not,” Brother Tomas said. “But I would not automatically discount it. After all-”

“What’s up with the glowing crown?” a voice said from behind, and Monty entered into the flickering firelight.

“What crown?” Astrid asked.

“The crown on the dwarf’s head, of course,” Monty said. “The freaking thing glows! I can’t believe the guards didn’t confiscate it from him.”

“I don’t see any crown…” Astrid said, wondering what had happened to her brother.

“Long story,” Brother Tomas interjected. “Basically not everyone can see his crown. But, given that this cell is probably bugged-”

“They already know about the crown, remember?” Jroldin asked. “They bugged me.”

“Still-” Brother Tomas said. “It still isn’t wise to be giving them a continuous stream of information, and-”

“Ah, why, Brother Tomas!” Monty said, stepping forward to shake Brother Tomas’ hand. “It’s so nice to see you. I must say that I am a bit confused about why you are in a cell, but, I suppose it might be nice to see you all the same. Oh, and I’ll take that back,” he said, snagging his badge out of Jroldin’s hands. “I wonder why they didn’t take it when they searched me, though…”

“I dunno… the guards seem rather stupid if you ask me, as well as whoever is listening to the recording they are playing since they bugged the cell,” Jroldin said. “You know, they seem to lose their temper a lot, too. I was talking with one of their leaders, and boy, was he ever angry.”

“It doesn’t seem wise to be getting the leader angry…” Monty said, and he put a finger to his lips as he reached up the wall.”

“My dad taught me all my tricks about dealing with nasty gang leaders and such,” Jroldin said. “I suppose that also means I outrank you?”

“What?” Monty said, removing something from the wall. “I don’t get your… oh…”

“Yep,” Jroldin said. “Remove the ‘jr’ from my name, and I’m Oldin, leader of the FRI, and giving me a higher rank than you.”

“Very funny…” Monty said, and he looked around. “I wonder where we are.” Putting a finger to his lips, he pointed at an object in his hand—a bug. Monty crushed it.

“Fraid I can’t help you there,” Jroldin said. “I asked, but he got rather mad. Although that might have been because I included the timeshare comment…”

“There are better things to do than to make people who hold your life in their hands to be ticked at you,” Monty said.

“I suppose,” Jroldin said. “But-”

At that moment, there was a loud explosion up ahead. Running feet and gunshots soon fired. Monty instinctively ducked and reached for where his gun would have been if it hadn’t been confiscated. “What was that?”

“Oh that?” Jroldin asked, leaning relaxingly against the wall. “That’s probably my dad crashing in to break me out. See, when they searched me for my dad’s tracers, they didn’t search me terribly well to see if I had a second tracer, and so they didn’t find the one in my mouth. Oh well; I suppose there are worse things in life than the bad guys being thwarted in their evil plans. Have fun failing, Mr. Bad Guy bugging us! I’ll see you in the jail cell!”

“Well, I just kind of removed the bug..." Monty muttered. "So he ain't going to hear that."

"Awww..."

_Six more parts until the series has the finale of Book I: The Star... As I'm looking ahead to Book II, I'm wondering what suggestions you would like to make not for the content of my posts, but if you'd like a different schedule of posting or other stuff related to how I do the stories that you would like changed for Book II...

Part XXX: Over Plain

Date: Amanela 17th, 114 A.U.

A small slick enclosed cruiser that was a bit bigger than the hover cars that were commonly used before the Great Upheaval, and was also better armored and manned with guns, flew ten feet above the grassy plains of the Renior. Inside of the vehicle were two goblins and a Sla’ad.

“These plains used to mark a constant feuding point between the elves and the humans,” Reynyagn was saying. “The elves’ lands were to the west, while the humans in the east, and this was where their boundaries met and intermingled. Usualy it was only diplomatic struggles as opposed to wars, but it was still a constant feud before…” Reynyagn paused.

“You know a lot about this sort of stuff,” Flek casually remarked while moving a piece in his game of Regicide against Reklen. Reklen was the only person that Flek could really call a good friend, and thus he was the only person Flek wanted to bring with him. Reynyagn was watching the game and sometimes commenting on their moves.

“I should,” Reynyagn said bitterly. “I watched the whole drama play out of the elves’ attack, though in prison.”

“In prison?” Flek asked.

“It was the only reason I escaped the Great Massacre of the Sla’ad,” Reynyagn said. “I watched Falshorn and all of my companions die; they only took me hostage, having scattered and destroyed all the other Sla’ad, for specimen use I suppose and such. Fortunately for my sake, I suppose, after capturing me, they didn’t do much with me except to leave me alone.” There was heavy bitterness in his voice. “Sometimes they came to talk with me or question me, but not often. Only one human seemed to care about me, and she was specially targeted and killed by the elves for her high government position.”

“I’m sorry,” Flek said, making a move.

“Do not be overly sorry for me,” Reynyagn said. “I may have been in prison, but they gave me a fair amount of freedom in how much information I could absorb. It was because of the readings and studies and watchings of the affairs of them that I got a foundation to be able to lead the scattered Sla’ad. Without that, I do not think I would have been able to keep us alive and under the threat and watching eyes of the elves in the sky.”

“Well that’s all good, I suppose then…” Flek said, pondering the position on the board.

“Where do you think the star leads?” Reklen asked, his enjoyment of his advanced position in the board obvious.

“I have been trying to track it,” Reynyagn said after making sure that the vehicle’s automatic straight course would still be going well. “According to my estimates, it appears to be pointing north to the mountains.”

“Wonder what we’ll find there,” Reklen said. “The other members of your prophesy team?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Reynyagn said. “Back in the old days, the dwarves had control and rule over the mountains. Mayhaps we will still find some of them in the North. I pray that they have not been completely exterminated by the elves. If we find no one, then I suppose that we’re just going to have to set up camp there and wait until we find someone. The prophesy said that the star would bring all of the members together, and I trust the prophesy to eventually bring them all here. Depending on how things play out, I’m hoping to hit the mountains in four days or so. If my memory suffices me, though, I think there’s a good bit of jungle around the mountains, so we’ll have to see how that is.” At that moment, a beeping noise began. Reynyagn moved to the controls as Flek made a move on the board.

“Flek!” Reynyagn said. “Reklen—come up here.” The two moved up to the front to see some sort of air ship in the distance.

“An elven craft?” Flek asked.

“And not just any elven craft,” Reynyagn said. “Look at the size of it that’s on the radar! That isn’t any of their flying cities, and for it to be that size and not to be one of their cities means one thing: the Mothership.” A chill ran down Flek’s spine. He had heard many stories about the Mothership, the head of the Imperial Fleet of the Elves that roamed the skies searching for any survivors down below to either kill them or enslave them in one of their work cities.

“It’s coming toward us by the looks of it,” Reynyagn said. “And there are usually a lot of smaller vehicles flanking it and looking for people. So there is no way that we are going to let ourselves get anywhere close to that beast. So we’re going to turn to the east away from them and pray that they don’t notice us on the radars.”

“This machine has our radar-scrambling signals,” Flek commented.

“Mayhaps it will lead them off,” Reynyagn said. “Mayhaps it won’t. You forget that they now know that your people live in the forest and that their signals aren’t reaching them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already figured out that somethings wrong.”

“Wait!” Flek said. “You don’t think that the Mothership is heading towards-”

“You can pray that they don’t,” Reynyagn said. “The Mothership would indeed be useless for its ship since the trees in your forest would block off them using the Mothership to attack—at least—it would very much slow it down, but the amount of men on it…” Reynyagn seemed to ponder it. “At the very least, I’ll send a message to Lord Freglak,” he said, sitting down at the computer. They’d gotten an operating system to correspond with Lord Freglak through a satellite in space that had been put up before the Great Upheaval and had been since long-forgotten. “Although I’m not sure if there’s anything he would do. In the Mothership’s one hundred and fifteen year history, it hasn’t lost any battles. And it’s won huge battles, and razed great cities. When thinking about the Mothership, remember this. It is because of that monstrosity that the elves were able to conquer Arquenia. And it is with that that they rule the skies.”

Question of the Week:What would you like changed about the method of posting?

_And onto the part... this part is best read while listening to the Imperial March from Star Wars Episode V. If you can, read it while listening to it. If you can't, shame on you for not having the soundtrack for the Imperial March. And if you want to hear more about the main villain of the series, I plan on writing a good bit about him in Book II: The Northlands. (See here, I just came up with the name for Book I a couple posts ago, and I already know the name for Book II...)

Part XXIX: Emperor Jaigran

Date: Amanela 12th, 114 A.U.

“All Hail Emperor Jaigran, Duke of the Upper Skies, Lord of the Lower Earth, First of the Supreme Elves, Highest of the Flyers, General of the Imperial Army, Emperor of Arquenia!” the herald called out, and all those present in the throne room fell to their knees to bow down to Emperor Jaigran of the elves, all except the two erect rebel elves, who only stood the taller. Before them, Emperor Jaigran sat upon his throne, two pure white wings bursting out behind him.

Flyte genes ran throughout the elven race, and one to two out of every thousand elves was gifted with wings, which began to grow when they were three, and came to fruition when an elf came of age at ten. They then stayed with the elf the whole life before withering, decaying, and falling off around the age of forty five, which was shortly before when an elf generally died of old age. Emperor Jaigran was an exception to this rule, having already lived nearly one hundred and fifty years and still showing no signs of old age. Many rumors abounded to why he had not yet died, but it was clear that he wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon.

Emperor Jaigran rose from his white ivory throne and slowly strode forward. He was small for an elf, being only four feet high and thus a dwarf to the usual-seven foot elves. However, his size did nothing to lessen his intimidating presence. As he walked down the aisle toward the two chained rebels, elves and orcs moved to the side, not wishing to be anywhere close to him. They had all heard stories of his rage.

“So,” Emperor Jaigran said as he strode forward. “You would not bow down to your Lord and Emperor?”

“I would never bow to one as murderous as you until I lost complete sense of my body,” the male elf spat, although Emperor Jaigran noticed a twinge in his eyes. Emperor Jaigran noticed many things.

“Have not my men worked on you throughout the night?” Emperor Jaigran asked, seeing the bags under their eyes. “Tell me, do you really want to endure that again?” Both elves subconsciously winced, and fear was evident upon their faces.

“We got much information from these two rebels,” Unyihi Garum said in a gravelly voice. “By the time we were done with them, information was spewing out of their mouths to keep their wretched skin untouched by our methods.”

Emperor Jaigran noted the shame on their faces and laughed. “Come now,” he said. “There is no point in denying the fact that you fell to it. What shame is there in telling the truth when all your companions have been destroyed? Your cause is hopeless and your lives are in the palm of my hand.”

“You can break our bodies, but you can’t break our spirits,” the female elf said softly.

“Can I not?” Emperor Jaigran asked. “If you spoke the truth, then why did you give in to our torture? Your words may speak one thing, but your actions speak another.” He laughed and put his hand on the female elf’s chin, despite her struggling. “What is your name?”

When she refused to speak, Unyihi Garum answered. “Her name is Cortna, zar,” he said.

“Cortna,” Emperor Jaigran said, a touch of honey flowing from his soft-speaking lips. His voice was soft, even though the words he spake were not. “I could break you, do you know that?” Cortna averted her gaze. “Ah yes,” he continued firmly. “I could break your body and spirit so that you were in total subjection to me. You could not resist it. I could make you so that you no longer knew what reality was. Do you think you could resist it? Of all the people I have tried it on, only one woman resisted it, a past companion by the name of Astrid, and she was unusual.”

Emperor Jaigran watched her eyes. “Do you wonder that I admit my one defeat?” he asked. “It would appear that you think me as a lying scoundrel. But that is untrue. Truth is the one thing that keeps the world alive. Truth reigns supreme under my domain, and while I speak with you, I will not lie, and neither will you, unless you want your skin flayed and bloodied. Tell me, Cortna, do you want to be broken?”

A slow tear trickled out of Cortna’s closed eyes, and she did not answer.

“Swear allegiance to me,” Emperor Jaigran said. “Or I will first slowly deal with your friend here, and then I will deal with you. I will break your spirit if you do not relent.”

A sob burst out from Cortna’s throat and then she began to weep. She made as if to collapse, but the guards on either side of her held her up.

“Already you have lost your resolute spirit,” Emperor Jaigran softly murmured. “What is the point of this prolonging agony? Swear allegiance to my name!” He turned to her companion. “And what of you? Will you follow the same fate as her?”

The elf kept a stoic face. “You claim to want truth above all else,” he said firmly. “And yet you threaten to make it so that we know no truth by threatening to cause us to no longer know what is reality. But you underestimate us, elf. We are the same kind as you, and we are the same with our brethren down on the earth, and even with these orcs, who you secretly treat as underlings. We are not the Master Race, and you are the lowest creature ever to be born, and to the dust will you die with a wretched death.”

Emperor Jaigran smiled. “Really,” he said. “Your confidence betrays you. If you have not already in the night’s ordeal, you will be recanting your words quicker than your mouth can move.” He turned to Cortna. “Well?” he asked. “Swear allegiance, or think about the methods that you experienced last night. And play them in your mind again, but seven times worse, and done to your companion before your eyes. What will it be?”

Cortna sobbed and slowly looked up, tears falling down her face and trickling down. Another sob escaped her mouth and she spoke. “I…” she said, and then she began to further sob as Emperor Jaigran and all of his men watched. Behind Jaigran, some elves laughed mockingly.

“I swear allegiance,” Cortna softly whispered.

“Louder,” Emperor Jaigran commanded. “And fully.”

“I swear allegiance to Emperor Jaigran,” Cortna said louder, as tears trickled down her face. “Duke of the Upper Skies, Lord of the Lower Earth, First of the Supreme Elves, Highest of the Flyers, General of the Imperial Army, Emperor of Arquenia; I swear allegiance and bend my mind, my spirit, and my full being to his one and supreme will, this I swear.”

There was silence before Emperor Jaigran spoke. “Well done,” he softly said. “But not good enough. Ah yes, I can see your face, and I can see through your eyes, those twin gateways to the mind. There is yet resistance in you, is there not?” He paused. “Guards!” he yelled. “Take the two of them back into the doctoring cells. I care not for the life of the male elf. Use him to break her completely and totally to my will. And when she is broken, bring her back to me. Thus saith the Emperor.”

Question of the Week:Which literary character does Emperor Jaigran most remind you of?