_Part LII: Tangled in Their Own Web

Date: Yippah 17th, 114 A.U.

Governor Astrid impatiently tapped her foot as she waited for her signal to go out on stage with the talk show host to talk about her campaign. She had argued this as far as she could go with her campaign manager but to no avail. All that her manager had had to do was to bring up the poll numbers—42% for Astrid, 43% for Iraina with 16% undecided, and Astrid knew that she had lost.

The red light flashed. That was the signal. Governor Astrid quickly walked on stage as she spotted the smiling talk show host, Julia Verne. Astrid saw right through her fake clip-on smile—just like she saw through Julia’s repeated claims that she was neutral in this race. Astrid knew right where Julia would be placing the ballot when election day came in two days.

“Governor Astrid!” Julia exclaimed, vigorously shaking Astrid’s hand. “Why, it’s so good to see you!”

“Same to you,” Astrid said, but she made no attempt to smile. No sense lying about things. Then again, her campaign manager would not be happy to see her like this on the most popular talk show in Araelia. Astrid managed to force a smile.

“Please, sit down,” Julia said motioning to the chair.

Astrid did so, eyes casting around to look for any opportunity possible to do something to change their footing. Astrid did not like feeling in an inferior position. And a conversation with a talk show host who secretly wanted Iraina to win did not make Astrid feel like she was in a superior position.

“So, Governor Astrid,” Julia said upon sitting down. “The elections are in two days and you are currently at a deadlock with Mr. Iraina. How confident do you feel about this election?”

“Well, I haven’t been elected time and time again for the past hundred years because I failed,” Astrid said, cracking a smile. “No, I’m very confident that my voters, who have seen my record, see that I’m the candidate in this race who they can be sure will bring our city to greatness again.”

“It’s funny you should mention your reelection streak,” Julia said, her eyes beginning to narrow. “A good many voters have begun to be expressing concern that because of your long term in office, you can’t connect with the average person anymore—that you’re too aloof from the issues of the common man.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Astrid said, trying to choke back her anger. “I have seen no such statistic or poll about the voters. Look at my record. I have had an abundance of experience—both in serving as governor in Araelia, and as part of the ruling Triumvirate before the Great Upheaval.”

“Yes, the Great Upheaval,” Julia said. “Now, Mr. Iraina has raised the point that the Triumvirate were helpless against the elves and were unprepared for them. He brings up the point that you are at least partially to blame for the disaster. Do you think that’s what the voters want to hear?”

Astrid glowered at Julia’s loaded question. “No government on Arquenia was ready to deal with Jaigran and his elves,” she rebutted. “If the greatest minds alive couldn’t see what was happening, how can that be held against me?”

“Well, for someone who holds their position in the Triumvirate as a pro rather than a con, I don’t see how that can’t be held against you, don’t you think?” Julia asked. It was all Astrid could do to keep herself from exposing Julia for how pro-Iraina she was. Of course, Julia had dozens of different possible answers to both defend herself and make her look bad. Astrid sometimes wanted to strangle her.

“No, I don’t see things that way,” Astrid said. “I have had over a century of experience in government while my opponent has had none. I can’t see all that experience as a negative for my side.”

“Don’t you think you’ve been in government long enough?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Don’t you think you’re monopolizing the governorship when there are plenty of citizens able to keep the job?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Astrid said, turning to gaze out into the video cameras, and through them to the watching audience. “There’s no rule that no one else can run.”

“But none of the people running are more qualified than you.”

“I’m the best qualified candidate, yes,” Astrid said, uneasy about where this conversation is going.

“So why don’t the voters think that way?”

“What?”

“According to recent polls, you and Iraina are at a deadlock,” Julia said. “If you’re the best qualified candidate, why have all these voters, who for the past century have supported you, suddenly turned aside to Iraina.”

“Do you have an answer for that?” Astrid said, laughing as she tried to turn it into a joke. “I mean, voters have a lot of issues they’re judging on and-”

“Well, according to the polls, the majority of people voting for Iraina are doing so because of his strong stance toward the elves,” Julia said. “Are you really better qualified to deal with them?”

“Yes; I’ve had a century’s worth of experience fighting against them.”

“You mean hiding from them.” Julia’s support for Iraina was becoming more and more obvious.

“No, I mean fighting them,” Astrid said. “We have not been idle for the past century, contrary to popular myth. There are a good many operations-”

“Name me one of them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Name me one of those operations,” Julia said, leaning back. “Name me one of the operations you undertook against the elves.”

Astrid smiled. “I would, except I’m under a restraining order. Strategic intelligence, you know?”

“So on the one issue that the majority of voters care about the most, you can’t tell us why you’re better than Iraina?”

“No,” Astrid said. “You were there when I elected the Xavier Team. Is not-”

“You claim responsibility for the Xavier Team?”

“Yes,” Astrid said. “I sent out the call and-”

“But I thought you believed in the prophesy.”

Astrid’s blood froze. “Of course I do, I-”

“Because the prophesy gives the star the responsibility for calling the Xavier Team, not Governor Astrid,” Julia said. “But here you are, claiming responsibility for the star. So, I assume you don’t believe in the prophesy?”

Astrid floundered for a response.

Question of the Week:Give a backstory for Iraina. I haven't come up with much of one so I want to hear yours...

_Part LI: Mostly About Orcs

Date: Yippah 13th, 114 A.U.

“We have found people who claim to be your companions.” Reynyagn turned from talking to the orc to see the orc sentries along with Number 994 and Monty.

“Number 994! Monty!” Reynyagn cried out, running toward them. “I can’t believe they found you.”

“Aye,” Number 994 said. “Though, to be precise—we found them.”

“They came to us when we were scouting the ravine,” one of the sentries said. “It would appear that not all were taken by the northern orcish tribe alliance.”

“The northern orcish tribe alliance?” Monty asked.

“The largest alliance of the orcs apart from the Empire up here in the north,” the orc leader said, walking over to stand by Reynyagn. “We are one of the few tribes who have not united under their standard and who still seek to fight against them.”

“They captured our companions then,” Monty said, turning a heel. “They captured Astrid.”

“That is what we believe, yes,” the orc leader said. “Unless they, like you, escaped. I am Orglan Garum, ruler of the Farghorn Tribe of the Northern Orcs.”

“I am Monty, the brother of Astrid of the Xavier Team, and part of the Resistance against the Empire,” Monty said.

“I’m Number 994, previously under Unyihi Garum’s standard, of the Imperial Orcs,” Number 994 said, lying about the “previously” line.

Even so, Orglan bristled at the line. “Unyihi’s band?” he snarled. “You had better have your allegiances in line, Number 994.”

“As I do,” Number 994 lied. “I am part of the Xavier Team, am I not?”

“I suppose…” Orglan said, though he kept his glare. “Just as long as you stay there.” He turned to Reynyagn. “Well, I suppose we have more with us for our plan?”

“Aye,” Reynyagn said. “They’ll be happy to join us.”

“Happy to do what?”

“We can’t rescue our companions easily,” Reynyagn said, walking over to the desk that sat in Orglan’s main chamber. “The orcs that have them are too strong to face head on and it will be rather time consuming to seek them out.”

“So?” Monty asked, stalking over.

“So we have a better plan,” Reynyagn said, pointing to the map as Number 994 walked over. “Because it would appear that we have a striking opportunity here.” He placed his finger on the map.

“What’s that?” Monty asked. “It’s just some ancient city by the markings, so I don’t see-”

“Emperor Jaigran is at that city,” Orglan said. “Our sentries have with their own eyes seen the Emperor in that ancient city. He is guarded heavily—but less heavily than he would otherwise.”

“Wait-” Monty said, his head spinning. “Do you mean?”

“We’ve been planning an attack on Emperor Jaigran,” Orglan said. “In days we will be sending out our attack force to take them by surprise. And slay the Emperor of Arquenia.”



Number 994 shut the door slowly and then looked around in the small room that he was in. He let out a curse word as he stalked over toward the window. It would be clear that he would have to do something if he was going to save the Emperor from death. At the very least, he was the Emperor of Arquenia. He did have a heavy guard around him to keep him safe. But still… Number 994 had been impressed with the plan that Reynyagn and Orglan had drawn up for their surprise attack on the Emperor.

Number 994 didn’t like to be impressed by his enemies plans.

Rule 21: At all times, know who your enemies are.

Number 994 knew who his enemies were. He knew who his friends are. He would just have to figure out how to keep them from killing the Emperor without blowing his cover. Number 994 didn’t like having to make plans.

This had been why he had been in his division in the first place. All he had to do was take commands and do them. He had his own area of expertise in monitoring the computers and he was good at that. He would keep the Mothership running and he would do it well. It was a simple enough job. At least—it was until the Garum took him out of his proper place and, after a fantastical string of events, landed him as part of a team to destroy the elves. Ah, the irony. Number 994 hated irony.

Number 994 looked out the window and, in the distance, could make out what he believed to be the mountain upon which Tzel-Maret was located. If only it were closer so that he could get there… If only-

But it wasn’t that way. He was outside his field of expertise and he would have to do something to keep the plotters from killing the Emperor. Number 994 wanted to believe that the Emperor would be able to defend himself…

But Number 994 had a sinking feeling in his heart that the Emperor might just be caught off guard.



“I don’t trust him.”

“Number 994 is a valuable member of our party; I’m sure his familiarity with how Unyihi’s orcs work will be a major asset to us.”

“I still don’t trust him,” Orglan snapped. “He’s an Imperial orc. And everyone knows that Imperial orcs can’t be trusted.”

“He’s on our side—I’ve seen it,” Reynyagn retorted. “I’m confident that he won’t betray us. If he had wanted to do that, he would have done it a long time before. Trust me on this, Orglan. Number 994 won’t betray us.”

Orglan pursed his lips. “Fine. Have it your way, Sla’ad—but mark my words. I will trust you on Number 994’s allegiances but if you’re wrong…”

Reynyagn nodded. “I understand.”

Orglan lifted his head. “Yes, you would understand. The fate of this mission may land upon your trust of Number 994, Reynyagn. Make your choice well.”

Question of the Day:What are Reynyagn's and Rider's battle plans to take out the Emperor?

_Part L: Rebel Sister

Date: Yippah 15th, 114 A.U.

“So what exactly does the Emperor want in the ancient ruins of Tzel-Maret.”

“Emperor does as pleases,” a gruff winged elf named Hazael said. “Question him we do not.”

“Well, I know that yu do not question one the likes of the emperor,” Sereth replied as she plucked out a cheerful tune on her guitar. It always helped to calm her to play one of her instruments. And Sereth didn’t feel very safe with all of the elves looming about her and continually watching her. . “But I think that we still can know what the emperor’s purposes are.”

“Emperor not told us,” Hazael said. “I cannot tell you.”

“Well, if ye cannae tell the likes of me,” Sereth asked. “Could you at least let me use your little communicator thing to call my sister?”

Hazael’s gaze flipped down toward his prized communicator. “You want use military communicator for small talk.”

“Aye, I do,” Sereth said, strumming along as she kept her care-free attitude. “After all, service on the communicators is free, and I don’t see you using it.”

“They’re for strictly military use,” the lead elf snapped. “They’re not to be used for such frivolous purposes.” Sereth glanced at the lead elf and noted his arching eyebrows and stretched face. Prideful idiot.

“Who is this sister,” Hazael said.

“Och, well, her name is Cortna, though I don’t suppose that you would know who she is. She serves on the Mothership.”

The lead elf suddenly bristled and flipped around to stare at her. “Who?”

“Her name’s Cortna. Don’t know why you would care, though. Not like she-”

The lead elf stiffly walked toward her. “Long black hair? Red birthmark on cheek?”

“Well, yes! Do ya actually know her. I wouldn’t think that-”

The lead elf abruptly sat on the side of the table opposite Sereth. “This sister of yours is a known traitor to the Empire.”

Sereth’s gaze froze and her hand that she had been strumming her guitar with dropped as she suddenly realized that Cortna must have become more overt in her disgust for the Empire. “She what?”

“She was part of a rebel organization who sought to cripple the elven defenses,” the lead elf snapped. “A traitor to the Empire.”

“Well, you cannae suppose that one who has been on the ground for the past decade is exactly in touch with her sister often,” Sereth said, throwing up a defense. “Besides, yu must have the wrong person. My sister wouldn’t do anything against the Empire.”

“Your sister did,” the elf snapped. “One of the leaders in the rebel group, I believe. She got her due reward.”

Sereth’s flippant expression on her face froze as she tried to hide the terror behind her. “Och,” she said, nervously laughing. “I suppose yu punished her for it, then?”

“She has entered into reeducation,” the elf said, watching her face. “I believe that she had special care.”

“Well, that wouldnae a be my sister then,” Sereth said. “A loyal member of the Empire she is. The Mothership is a big place, ya know. Cortna is a common name.”

“Cortna is common,” Hazael agreed. “Sereth not seem traitor. Emperor wouldn’t want traitor.”

“I suppose,” the lead elf snapped as he pushed away from the table. “I might do some background checks though—just to check and see if that rebel scum is related to you.”

“Och, well, I’m telling you she’s not,” Sereth said. “Of course, given that I havenae a seen her for a decade, I suppose she could have turned traitor, but I donnae think-” That’s when Sereth realized that the lead elf was already gone and that it was only her and blank in the room.

“We arrive Tzel-Maret soon,” Hazael said. “Quick ship. Emperor should be waiting.”

Sereth muttered something under her breath. “Well, I suppose I should be ready for the Emperor.”

Hazael moved toward the door to leave and then quickly turned around, looking around as if to make sure that no one else was nearby. “Prepare sound story,” Hazael said. “Emperor quick notice discrepancies. Watch back.” And then he quickly flew out of the room.

Sereth jolted upwards as she realized what blank was saying. He knew then… He saw through her lies, and… he protected her. Sereth stood up. Best to be prepared for meeting the Emperor. Her sister had often disagreed with her about how to best deal with the Empire. But she had promised not to get involved in anything large when Sereth had decided that it would be best to avoid the situation then be in it. But it would appear that in a decade, Cortna had decided not to fulfill her word.

Sereth knew too well what reeducation would do to an elf.



The air machine slowly lowered itself down into a large enough space to land as Sereth gazed out at the abandoned citadel of Tzel-Maret. The memories were flying back to her of the place and of the different things that she had discovered there at her first archaeological dig. Sereth noticed the larger elven air machine that had already landed. It looked like they had already set up a camp. And as Sereth watched, she noticed a group of elves waiting. A short winged elf stood flanked by seven guards, each holding a fire-stick in one hand, and a gun in the other. Sereth cocked her head and wondered why they were all holding fire-sticks.

The machine landed and Sereth slowly walked to the door that was slowly opening and gazed out at the gangplank that was lowering. She gazed across at the Emperor of Arquenia and felt a prod in her back from an elf impatient for her to go. It was time to meet the Emperor of Arquenia.

Question of the Day: Make up your own question for this part AND answer it. Best answer wins.

_You know that wish corruption game? Don't ever play it with an orc.

Part IL: Wish Corruption

Date: Yippah 12th, 114 A.U.

Rider quickly took in everything in the room—the wooden desk, the array of trophies on the wall, the detailed maps of the region, the small assortment of weapons, the lack of torture instruments, and the physical nature of his questioner—as he was brought into the room and sat down in the chair opposite his questioner at the desk. The orc guards quickly exited as Rider quickly determined that it wouldn’t be easy to get out of his hand cuffs. It could still be done though, and keeping his hands away from the questioner’s view, began to fiddle with them.

“I am Farshore Garum, the leader of our noble tribe,” the questioner said. “I have heard that you claim to be part of the mythical Xavier Team who will destroy the elves.”

“I am,” Rider said, looking up. “My name is Rider of the Xavier Team who will destroy the elves and their empire.”

“I see.” Farshore bristled at the statement. “Do you think,” he said slowly. “That your motley band, which is unable to resist us, is able to not only resist but destroy the elves?”

“The prophesy said we would be tested in the northlands,” Rider said. “This is merely the testing. I believe the prophesy, and the prophesy says that we will be able to do it. We will escape your grasp.”

Farshore laughed at the statement. “Few have—even some of the best of Jaigran’s legions have been unable to escape from us or our fellow tribes. You will be no exception.”

Rider’s mind raced. “You are enemies of Jaigran, then.”

Farshore’s gaze narrowed. “I am the one giving the rules here, elf,” he said. “I am asking the questions. We are the enemies of all who would dare to trespass into our lands and show partiality to none. Thus is the state of the Northern Tribes.”

“You may be assured that we will exit your territory as soon as possible,” Rider said.

“And you may be assured that I will not take a simple apology as truth,” Farshore snapped. “Too many have trespassed our lands and have claimed that they would never returned. What they neglected to mention was that they would tell their allies and bring the wrath of the Emperor upon us.”

“We are different.”

“No,” Farshore said, letting a tingle of electricity run across his fingers. “You are not different from the rest of them. Like the others you would manipulate me to free you. Ah, but there is a price to pay for trespassing our lands.”

“What kind of a price?” Rider asked nervously as he tried to free himself from the handcuffs.

“Ah, yes—the price for trespassing,” Farshore said. “Some trespassers we have deemed better dead than alive. Others we have blinded to be put to use as slaves. Others have been used for… other… purposes. If you wish to avoid death, elf, I would suggest that you work to have a say in what you will be used for.”

“Let us fight,” Rider said. “Let us fight the elves and bring down their tyranny. You cannot stand against them.”

Farshore laughed. “I knew you would say that, elf. Your kind is predictable. Unlike your expectations, however, I will grant your request, albeit under a different kind of answer than you may have wanted.”

Rider’s head jerked up. “You will free us?”

Farshore laughed again. “No, elf,” he said. “You will be our warriors. That will be your punishment. You shall fight for us until you die.” A chill ran down Rider’s back as he began to get inklings about what Farshore was going to do. “Our spies have brought us word about an elven expedition into the lands. The Emperor himself will be coming for an unknown purpose. And so we will take our vengeance on trespassers. You will fight for us against the Emperor. But, of course, we can’t have any doublecrossing…”

“What are you getting at?”

“Our medics will implant electric devices in your brains with enough power to send high voltage into your brain, killing you instantly,” Farshore said. “And we will have the controls.”

Rider swallowed. “So you mean-”

“Yes, elf,” Farshore said. “Try to escape from our bonds and your freedom will be short-lived. Your sole purpose in life from henceforth is to serve us. And any disobedience will not be tolerated. Congratulations, elf. You have gained your wish.”

“So I see,” Rider said stiffly.

“Our medics will be in to see you and your companions soon once you’ve been neutralized,” Farshore said. “Once your devices have been planted you will be free.”

“A cruel freedom you promise,” Rider stated bluntly.

“It’s better than death or having your eyes gouged out as a slave,” Farshore retorted. “Watch your mouth, elf. You serve us from now on and you will henceforth refer to me as Garum as all orcs do. Any misdemeanors will bring you punishment. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

Question of the Week: It's wish corruption time! Play as an ORC (so make the answer a bit orc-ish) and corrupt the following wish: "I wish that Jaigran would be epicly defeated."

_Got back from visiting Patrick Henry College... very good and enlightening visit but quite tiring... Anyways, this is why I'm glad that I plan ahead here with these posts...

Who was the winner of last time? Well, we got a lot of great entries, but one just took the cake. "Rule Number 12: What's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine too. Rule Number 17: Treat people in your debt like family... exploit them. Rule Number 84: You are not responsible for the stupidity of other races."

Part XLVIII: Overextension

Date: Yippah 16th, 114 A.U.

Major Erklen peered through his telescope at the elven cruisers that were scouting along the premises. It had taken the elves a week to step outside of their now-fully fortified base but finally they were venturing in the right direction—away from their base and right to where Major Erklen wanted them.

Major Erklen held his breath as his finger hovered above the button that would doom the elves to die. Just a couple more feet… Major Erklen pressed the button. Suddenly, from the trees around the cruisers, goblins leapt out. Guns were fired, and the elves collapsed, their cruisers smashing into the trees. The goblins immediately let out a whoop and one fired his long range gun. There was a bang as the bullet flew over the forest. Escaping the tree line, the bullet suddenly self-imploded, creating a ball of fire that blew over the forest. Now the elves knew where they were.

Major Erklen pressed down the button on his walkie talkie. “All right—good work guys. The elves know we’re here. Now come back and make ready for their advance.”



The drop-planes came first. Zooming over the top of the foliage, it darted under the goblin attack ships as elves came pouring down ropes from the underside of the ship, falling down into the battle field that the goblins had before planned to have and immediately engaging in battle with the goblins.

Major Erklen nodded with approval as the next round of dropships to come were immediately decimated by a ready goblin attack force. Now the elves would be sure to come with more.

Sure enough, the next wave came, this time of sleek elven fighters. The goblin aircraft swerved around them as the elves poured their air assault upon them. More elven dropships cruised underneath the battle to bring more reinforcements to the seen. All was good—all was good for now. Major Erklen pushed a button to alert his soldiers that Phase I was over. It was time for Phase II: Retreat.

The goblins on foot suddenly fell back from the firing lines and fled as the aircraft did the same. After a moment of hesitation the elves followed, leaping toward the fleeing goblins. Just a bit further… a bit further…

Major Erklen’s hand wavered on the button before he decisively pushed down, spelling the elves fate.



The forest floor was shattered as it blew to pieces underneath the over-confident elves, trees collapsing and fire exploding from the planted bombs. Missiles broke loose from plastic trees to collide into the elves attack fleet. Major Erklen stepped back for a moment as the smoke cleared. The battlefield was a chaos of blinded elves running over each other and looking for their wounded comrades. And then the ground gave out from under them—collapsing in on itself as the beams that had once held the ground up gave way. The elves fell down into the waiting regiment of goblins. There were some yells from beneath. And then there was silence.


Major Erklen stepped back, giving a sigh of relief. They had just dealt the elves a mortal blow that would take long to recover. The silent forest air was only broken by the murmurs of the goblins who saw the carnage that they had just done to the elves. Phase III had just been completed to the destruction of the elven army. And now they would advance to the crags and finish off the elves in the Great Forest.

That was before Major Erklen saw the great elven attack vehicle flying toward them.



“The goblin army is in retreat, sir!”

“I know it, blast it all,” Lord Freglak snapped as he worked the Codex. “Major Erklen has just informed me.” Freglak cursed under his breath. All the time that he and Reynyagn had worked on the elaborate trap and it had gone to smithereens. Although Freglak couldn’t tell yet whether or not the blame fell on Major Erklen, Freglak knew that Reynyagn wouldn’t have fallen into the same trap if he had stayed. Instead, the goblin forces had been taken completely unawares by the elven surprise assault right after they had lost what seemed to be a great portion of their army.

And now they were on the retreat.



“I want you to make that news front cover,” Freglak snapped to the anxious goblin reporter. “I want the face of that priest on the front of every paper so that the people can see who it is that is causing our defeat. Go! Get it done!” Freglak watched as the reporter hurried out of the room to publish Jaine’s blunderous speech about what should be done about the elves.

Freglak stalked over to the window and looked out at the forest around him. For however much that defeat may have cost them, if he would be able to blame it on the priesthood he may yet accomplish more than his uncle would have dreamed of being able to do.

The priests had held control over the Great Forest for too long. His uncle had drilled that into him when young as his uncle tried to force the priest’s to have no other option than to make Freglak lord when he died. And having that training and seeing such an opportunity, Freglak was prepared to take it. If he could only manage to turn the populace against the priests and toward Freglak as their only possible savior, everything would fall into place. With the people behind him, he would have the power and backing to do nearly anything he wanted. And that would begin with the destruction of the order of priests. And the ordination of Freglak as the sole Lord-Protector of the Great Forest, a dictator with the complete power to do whatever he wanted. With everything at his disposal to strike back against the elven tyranny.

Question of the Day:What did High Priest Jaine say?

_As you read this part you may be getting a feel that, well, things are different in Book II, especially now. Darker, and without hope. What can I say? Did not the Xavier prophesy foretell this already? Should be no surprise... :P The prophesy said that the Xavier Team would be tried in the fire... And I think that's what's happening now--albeit in a much colder fashion than a fire.

Part XLVII: Scattering Wind

Date: Yippah 11th, 114 A.U.

Iron chains held him to the wall where he slumped, helpless and hopeless. Wifts of spirit and glimmers of the woman passed by him, a woman holding a cup of water, a woman with compassion in her eyes. A woman who didn’t hate him. One who promised to work with her position in the Triumvirate to regain him his freedom. One who brought him books. One who helped him.

All in one motion torn away and put in the face of a maniacal foe who wished death and destruction for all races. An elf so twisted and corrupted that he would wrack his vengeance on his previous companion in the Xavier Team because she would not allow him to gain power. One whom Reynyagn had thought dead before he had seen her face as the Governor of Araelia. One who had too soon be torn away as Reynyagn had to accept his own destiny as one of the new Xavier Team.

A destiny which seemed all too sure to have a speedy ending.


A cold wind whipped the snow into Reynyagn’s face as he contemplated what was underneath him for several minutes as his brain awoke. The cold penetrated his senses and warned Reynyagn of the coming danger. Sla’ad were much more vulnerable to the extremes than normal beings. Their ability of being unable to be hurt by most physical material came at an extreme price—their vulnerability to the elements.

Reynyagn stood up, rubbing his fur coat as he looked around. The last thing he remembered was stumbling off the cliff after being attacked by that orc. Now he found himself in the middle of a deep gorge with long cliffs around either side and a wind blowing into him. He would have to get moving—fast—before his body froze. Because once that happened, there was no going back.

Reynyagn quickly moved, trying to run through the snow as he looked for shelter. Reynyagn’s run was a weak run. His joints already were stiffening. He should still be able to survive a couple hours, but… The distance he was able to cover each hour would dramatically diminish as his body continued to freeze up.



Rule Number 43: At any opportunity, use your enemies to benefit your cause.

Number 994 stared at Monty’s limp body nearby as he looked back up at the great distance that the avalanche had carried them. They had gone far and deep. And his ruse had kept him alive. His companions were gone—either dead or captured. And that suited Number 994 just fine.

Number 994 slowly nudged Monty’s body. Monty groaned and rolled to the side. Number 994 was slightly irked. As much as he didn’t care for the human, Number 994 knew that it wouldn’t be wise to be in an icy wilderness such as this and be alone. Besides—their companions were gone. He could always take out Monty. And Monty knew nothing of his true allegiances.

“Get up,” Number 994 said, nudging Monty some more. He wondered if Monty was dead. Bending down, Number 994 pushed Monty’s hood back, opening Monty’s face to the cold air. Number 994 wondered why Monty’s face was blue. Number 994 hesitantly poked Monty’s face, wondering if it was a dye. It wasn’t. Number 994 wondered why and how humans were able to change their skin color.

Number 994 had finished searching Monty’s pockets and pilfering all of the useful weapons that Monty had when Monty began to move. Number 994 stepped back, hiding his stolen items in his coat. Number 994 hadn’t thought he needed the coat—not like electric-orcs like him minded the cold—but then again, the coat was a pretty good place to hide stolen materials.

“Uhhhh…” Monty said. “What… what…?”

“We’re down here in gorge,” Number 994 said. “An avalanche carried us down.”

Monty looked around. “But what… what attacked us—where is Astrid?”

“Renegade orcs attacked us,” Number 994 said. “I tried to defeat them but got carried away in avalanche. Your sister was knocked out. I don’t know where she is.”

“We have to find her,” Monty said quickly, struggling to stand up. Number 994 put his hand out to help him up.

“We will leave the gorge,” Number 994 said, bobbing his head as if in agreement. If Monty was too intent on rescuing his sister, he could always kill him off if he proved to be more of a hindrance than an aid. It would be what the Garum would want him to do. Number 994 turned back to Monty, who was strangely fidgeting and bobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

“Why the shaking?” he asked, gesturing toward Monty.

“It’s called shivering,” Monty said. “It’s what we do when we’re cold. Don’t you shiver?”

“Only the weaker fire-orcs hate cold,” Number 994 said. “Our race born and raised here. I no suffer cold.”

“Wish I could say the same for me…” Monty said, continuing to shake in a shiver. “Do you think we can find shelter to build a fire?”

“We can find shelter,” Number 994 said, seeing the importance of finding a base to stop at to consider their options. “You can build fire if you have ability so that you can stop shaking in a shiver.”

“Good,” Monty said, trudging forward. “Tell me when you see one.”

“Aye,” Number 994 said, taking up the rear. “We will look for a shelter.”

Question of the Day:Give me one of the ninety nine orc rules to follow... The best one gets points...

_Part XLVI: Watching Shadows

Date: Yippah 14th, 114 A.U.

Caiman suddenly snapped alert, instantly looking around the hall before he made sure there were no approaching threats. He glanced at the other guards, but they remained alert and resolute. One glanced at him with a look that told Caiman that he should have been paying more attention.

Caiman stifled a yawn; it was his first day in this portion of the guard after all. Caiman had been recently moved up here due to an unexpected shortage of guards for Jaigran—and because Caiman was one of the better ones in his division. There was always a shortage of guards for Jaigran. Caiman had yet to discover if that was due to more guards needed or if the guards mysteriously disappeared in some incident with the Emperor. Caiman hoped it wasn’t the latter.

Trying to keep himself awake in the middle of the night, Caiman bounced slightly on his heels before one of the guards glared at him. That’s right. He was supposed to be resolute and stiff. Caiman tried to stand stiffly, barely looking at the other guards. He was beginning to wish he had been able to stay in his division—more relaxed and carefree with his friends—instead of having to be super-on-duty here both since they were guarding the Emperor and since they were outside the Mothership in some fast crusier that the Emperor was using to go somewhere.

The Emperor never went anywhere.

Caiman wondered how his fellow guards would take a prank. One look at his fellow guards and he immediately dismissed the idea.

Playing a prank on one of them would be a baaaad idea.

At that moment, there was a scream from inside the Emperor’s chambers. The guards instantly leapt up and rushed for the door, Caiman getting into the mob. The door opened first and Emperor Jaigran leapt out, his face as pale as chalk and a… a golden corsha spear in his hand? Caiman had thought that the Emperor had long ago dismissed them as aged weapons that were no longer good… But then again…

“My Emperor!” the tallest and eldest-looking guard cried. “What is it?”

The short emperor’s gaze didn’t leave the room. “Turn on the lights.”

“Excuse me?”

“Turn on the lights you blasted idiot!” Jaigran said, moving back. “I want all the lights on! Purge the darkness! NOW!”

The guards immediately bustled over each other to move in to turn on the light. Caiman tried to peek over their shoulders to see what was in the room, but he couldn’t see anything in it—anything out of the ordinary that is.

“What is it, my Emperor?” the eldest guard asked.

“A Sla’ad,” Emperor Jaigran said, clenching his teeth. “There was a Sla’ad in there that tried to murder me.”

The guards moved further into the room. “I don’t see anything…” the eldest guard began.

Jaigran’s wings unfurled and Caiman had just felt the rushing air pushed back by Jaigran’s wings when Jaigran had flown into the room and hovered face-to-face with the guard, his corsha spear outstretched.

“ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?!”

“No, my Emperor!” the guard said, backing up. “I just thought-”

Jaigran dropped to the floor. For some reason that Caiman couldn’t figure out, it seemed that Emperor Jaigran actually enjoyed being so short. Maybe it was because he could still order people around. Or maybe it was because… Caiman bit his lip to keep from laughing as he remembered a dirty joke that one of his friends had told him to humorously explain the reason.

“You didn’t think,” Jaigran snapped. “There was some Sla’ad abomination in here that tried to murder me.” His eyes flitted from side to side and then he drew back. “The shadows…”

“The what?”

“The Sla’ad conceal themselves in shadows!” Jaigran roared. “Get lamps in here! Purge the darkness from the corners! He could still be in here!”

Caiman somehow wondered that in the far places of the room there could a Sla’ad hidden but he moved to do as he was told and came running back with a couple lamps to search the room.

“Search around the edges—now!” Jaigran said, moving to the center of the room away from the shadows. “Search every dark spot for the Sla’ad! He can’t have gotten out of here!” Caiman nervously searched, but thankfully found no trace of a Sla’ad.

“We can’t find any trace of one… sir…” the eldest guard said.

“There was a Sla’ad here,” Emperor Jaigran said, a strange look in his eyes. “He was here. He tried to kill me.”

“Sir, I-”

“There is a new change in regulations,” Jaigran said, his gaze darting around the room. “From henceforth there are always to be two additional guards around me with fire-poles.” Caiman had heard of fire-poles. They were long staffs that fire-orcs made that had a fierce light glowing at the top of the staff. “Wherever I go, I will be so accompanied,” Jaigran quickly said. “There will be no shadows nearby me for a Sla’ad to hide in.”

“Sir… you really don’t think that-”

“Shut up!” Jaigran yelled. “There is a Sla’ad stalking me! I thought I had seen glimpses—snips of something in the shadows watching me—waiting its time for the right moment to strike—Now do it! Or I’ll make you my living fire-stick.”

“Yes sir,” the guard said. “Caiman! Get over here and go find some firesticks!” Caiman nervously hurried over to the door as the guard held it open. Caiman glanced back at Jaigran who was putting away his weapon.

“Is there really one,” Caiman said. “Or did he dream-”

“Just get the fire-sticks,” the guard said in a low voice. “The Emperor’s word is the Emperor’s word. If he believes his dream, it is our job to do the same.”

“Wh-”

“Go.”

Question of the Day: In light of Jaigran's paranoia, tell stories of extreme paranoia

_Part Thirty Five! For last post,m my favorite answer was Kerstin's: "It's an old archaeological dig that was abandoned because of earthquakes. The emperor wants to go because he thinks there is some secret stash of riches (or some other treasure) there, but some areas were damaged too much by the earthquakes and so he needs someone who has worked there before to help him avoid the damaged areas. They might bump into someone (maybe someone who used to be the janitor) who got left behind when the place was evacuated, and in his years alone, he turned bad (could he be won back?). He then discovered the treasure and will do anything to protect it. "

Part XLV: Broken

Date: Yippah 11th, 114 A.U.

It was the cold that first let Astrid know that she was still alive. Astrid gradually came to feel the cold hard rock that she was lying on and her eyes slowly focused on the bodies lying around her. The headache and the stiff iron manacles let her know that she wasn’t a ghost.

Astrid slowly pushed herself slightly off the ground as she looked at the members of the Xavier Team, all held to the wall with long chains that attached to the manacles on their wrist. All Astrid could remember was seeing Flek and Zarien fall and then collapsing to the snow as something overwhelmed her senses. That was when Astrid realized that they didn’t have all the members of the party there.

Astrid forced her unmoving body as she counted the forms. Four, five, six, seven. No. She must have miscounted. But there they were: only seven. As she frantically strained at the chains, she tried to figure out who was there. The small figure was Jroldin, she could see Flek’s goblin ears pointing out of his cloak, that was most certainly Brother Tomas’ robe… Kailen’s small goblin body she could finally make out, but she couldn’t make out the last figure, shrouded by his cloak and the darkness. It had to be Monty, it had to be. Astrid wished that they hadn’t decided to all adopt a similar garb of brown cloaks, at least for the Xavier Team. But—but that meant—since Monty wasn’t part of the Xavier Team he didn’t have-

“Monty!” Astrid shrieked as she moved at her chains. Some of the limp figures moved slightly. The last figure slowly rolled and his hood was undone. Zarien’s sleeping face stared back at her. Astrid screamed.

“Ah, so our prisoners have awaked.” From outside their cell, a tall orc came into view. The blue orc’s slick black hair was tied back into a pony tail and black gauntlets were around his hand. “I hadn’t thought you would be awake so soon. Our pulse was made to keep you out for longer.”

“What did you do with the rest of them!” Astrid shrieked. “Where is my brother?!”

“Ah,” the orc said. “A pity it is. You see, some members of your party are just too clever for their own good. Your orc friend thought he could fake a knock out and then try to rescue you all. Some hero he is.” A faint smile trickled across the orc’s lips. “He only managed to grab one human—your brother I would assume—before he was taken out by a sudden avalanche and went over the side like that clumsy Sla’ad. It really was quite a pity that he had to go over. It all didn’t have to happen if he cooperated more. And we would have loved to have captured that Sla’ad. Quite a group you made.” A voiceless scream emitted from Astrid’s lips.

“Sad for them?” the orc asked. “Don’t be, lady. They got their just deserts for trespassing. And it may be that you will wish that you received their face by the time all is said and over. You have much explaining to do.”

“I won’t say anything to you,” Astrid said behind clenched teeth. There was a gruffled moan and some of her companions began to stir.”

“Oh, but that would be rather unrational of you,” the orc said. “Unless you happen to actually enjoy the pain of torture.” The orc inserted a key into the lock of the cell door and opened it, entering. “I was going to wait until more of you awakened, but there’s no reason to wait. How is it, woman? Perhaps you can begin by letting me know your name.”

“I won’t tell you anything,” Astrid snapped.

“Oh, why isn’t that sad,” the orc drawled. “I’m sure I could change your mind. Your companions, for starters. It’s about time that some of them awakened for questioning, isn’t it?” A light flashed in the orcs eyes and lightning burst out from his gauntlets, hitting Kailen’s small form. Kailen struggled and was lifted into the air as he gave a scream before the lightning stopped and he fell roughly to the floor. Kailen rolled as he tried to rip his cloak off of him. Other members of the party were awakening now.

“Your name is all I’m asking, lady,” the orc said smoothly. “It isn’t that hard, is it?

“Leave her alone.” Astrid turned toward Flek, who was sitting up on one elbow while pointing a shaky finger at the orc. “We’re not going to tell you anything until you give us an explanation for this.”

“Ah, it is my turn to explain first, is it?” the orc asked, an edge to his voice. “Just think about this, goblin. It is never good to make rash promises.” Lightning again sparked at his gauntlets and before Astrid could do anything, a blast of lightning slammed Kailen, still recovering from the last attack, against the wall.

“Stop it!” Flek roared as he scrambled to his feet. “That’s my friend!”

“Ah, I know,” the orc said suavely as Kailen fell back to the floor. “That’s why I’m doing this, see? I can force you to do whatever I want without giving you anything. If you really must know my name, my name is Rishka. Now, will you give me your names, or must I turn the power up on your friend again.”

“I’m Flek,” Flek spat. “And her name is Astrid. What do you want with us?”

“Ah, but that’s the question I wanted to ask you,” Rishka said. “How about you tell me first what you are doing in these parts and what would explain your motley band.”

“And tell you all of our plans against you and your emperor?” Flek said. “I would sooner cut off my own left arm.”

A light flashed in the orc’s eyes. “Stubborn will you be?” he snapped. “Very well, I will test your request—but not on yourself.”

Flek lunged at his chains as, too late, he saw what was about to happen. A barrage of lightning hit the still staggering Kailen. Kailen clutched at his manacles as the electricity pulsed through it and was thrown back. He held out his hand, trying to stop the lightning but to no avail as Flek screamed for his best friend. Kailen tried to say something, but it was lost before there was a snap.

Rishka stepped back as Kailen limply collapsed. “I will return when you are in a better frame of mind,” the orc said. “I can’t imagine it will be easy to have just lost your friend for your own impulsiveness. Maybe that will make you think twice before speaking rashly again.” And with that, the orc left as Flek collapsed to the floor in sobs as Astrid stared with eyes unfocused at the cell. Monty, Reynyagn, and Number 994 all gone by an avalanche, and now Kailen. The Xavier Team was broken.

Question of the Day: Time to play the bad guy. What would you do next as Rishka?