_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."

_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?

_Part XLIV: Sereth

Date: Yippah 13th, 114 A.U.

It was in the dark of night when the aircraft flew over the jungle foliage and stopped as ropes dropped down to the ground. Four darkened figures slid down the ropes to the top of the broken-down building, pausing and pointing their guns around before making sure that the coast was clear. And with that, as the aircraft flew off, they quickly climbed down from the building, turning on their night-vision goggles, and began to spread out from the building, searching for their quarry.



“Sereth!” Sereth stood up quickly from the carvings she was examining and ran out of the corridors of the building out into the open air to see one of her companions running toward her.

“Sereth! Sereth! Oh, there you are!”

“Och, what is it, Flen?”

“There are some elves here to see you! They say that they bear an important message from the Emperor!” Flen said, near breathless.

A message from the Emperor himself. Fat chance of that. But Sereth knew that she had to go along. “I donnae like this,” she muttered.

“Yes, well they didn’t seem to have much patience,” Flen said. “So if you can come back to camp-”

“Well, best to not keep them waiting,” Sereth said, hitching her backpack up higher. “Ah well, let’s see what they want.” She walked with Flen back to the camp, where Sereth saw two of the elves pacing while the other two were looking at the supplies.

“What are you doin’ with mae supplies?” Sereth asked as she steppe forward. “And what didst ye want with me?”

“Ah, are you Sereth?” one of the elves asked, as he strode forward.

“Och, well, I don’t see anyone else a’respondin’ to the naeme,” Sereth said. “What do ya want with me?”

“We’ve been given an important message from the Emperor,” the elf responded. “We’re from the elven guard and have been given the duty of finding you.”

“And what do ya want me for?” Sereth asked, still doubting if they really were given their message from the Emperor.

“According to our file on you, you have done some work at Tzel-Maret, is that right?” the elf asked.

“Ah, yes, Tzel-Maret,” Sereth said. “I remember it like it were yesterdae; a magnificent citadel it was, and with many good artifacts. But what do ya want me for? I haven’t been to Tzel-Maret for ten years, I believe; haven’t gone that far up north for a while.”

“The Emperor requests your presence at Tzel-Maret,” the elf said.

“What are ya trying to pull on me? Do ya mean to tell me that the Emperor himself wants an archaeologist and historian such as myself to go all the way north to Tzel-Maret?”

“Yes,” the elf said. “The Emperor is planning a visit to Tzel-Maret and requests your services as a guide.”

Thoughts flew past Sereth’s mind faster than she could catch them. Were they actually serious that the Emperor wanted her to come all the way up from here just to be his guide? But of course it would be an honor, but Sereth still had lingering doubts about their purpose… And what would the Emperor be wanting to do at Tzel-Maret?

“Well, I suppose that I donnae have much choice but to comply,” Sereth responded. “I assume you have proper identification and papers so that I know that you’re not trying to pull something on mae?”

“We have the papers,” the elf grumbled, fishing them out of his pack. “Now will ya come with me? I have to signal the ship to pick us up?”

“Well, I suppose I ought to,” Sereth said and she looked back at her companions. “But wait, will ya? What are my companions supposed to do? I just can’t exactly leave them here and we still have to pack up our equipment and-”

“We only have room on the ship for one person,” the elf snapped. “Your companions are going to have to stay here until you get back—if you get back, that is. “

“Are ya threatening me?”

“For crying out loud, I’m not threatening you, miss historian,” the elf said. “But I am merely pointing out that the Emperor does and the Emperor wills and if he decides to take you around for whatever places he wants to be visiting, you could very easily be gone for a long time.”

“But, my frien-”

“Well, they’re going to have to stay here, girl. We don’t have the space for them and we don’t have much time either.” The elf pointed to the aircraft that was flying toward them. “Now the ship is close to arrival. If you wanted to grab any other possessions before we went, it would be best to do it now before the ship gets here. We need to get going up to Tzel-Maret immediately. We have to catch another aircraft that’s going there in time and the Emperor does not like to be waiting on people.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Sereth grumbled as she looked around to try and see what she would have to grab. She usually packed most of the things she had in the backpack she carried around in case she ran into an emergency in one of the ruins, but just to make sure…

“You’re leaving us?” Flen asked, running up to her.

“Well, I’m afraid so,” Sereth replied, pursing her lips. “I can’t exactly argue much with him, seeing that he has the warrants and all, and I can’t think of any other options. I’ll be back here sooner than you know it, Flen. Just stick around these parts and when I’m free of my duties, I’ll return. I hope I’ll be seeing you again, then.”

“Yeah… same here…” Flen said glumly.

“Hey! The aircraft is here!” the elf yelled. “Get on over here so we can take off!”

“Very well, very well, hold your trousers,” Sereth said. And with that she turned from her friends and her past life ready to embark the air craft to take her to see the Emperor at Tzel-Maret. Because somehow, Sereth doubted that her life was going to do anything but take a sharp dramatic change. But for the worse or for the better, she couldn’t tell.

Question of the Day:What is at Tzel-Maret?

_Cliff-hanger!

Part XLIII: Breakdown

Date: Yippah 10th, 114 A.U.

The harsh wind blew across the snow-covered mountains, blowing the snow around to find a new settling place as it whistled through the crevices. Blowing across the snow-covered valleys of the upper mountains Winding around spires and rocks, it blew past the stranded air ship in the process.

Rider watched the shivering Flek step of the ship into the freezing cold to join the others huddled around the front of the machine. Rider had been wondering how long it would take before Flek finally got the nerve to come out into the cold. Flek didn’t really seem to like the cold.

“How is it?” Flek asked, putting his hands in his pockets to try and keep them warm.

“I…” Number 994 weakly said as he probed the machine with his mind. “I… I don’t…” He scrunched his eyes shut as he pressed more firmly on the engine.

“I can’t see anything on the outside to explain the breakdown,” Reynyagn said. “Maybe-”

“Got it,” Number 994 said, and he pulled back from the engine, opening his eyes. “I figured out where the problem was.”

“Can you fix it easily?” Rider asked.

“I’m not sure,” Number 994 said, pursing his lips. “I don’t think so—at least—not easily. It’s kind of hard to explain to you, but basically the elements weathered down part of the machine that was unprotected—the machine wasn’t made for this sort of terrain. From the information I gathered, I think there’s a pretty good gash in the underside of this that we should check out. I don’t think I can fix it, so I’ll have to rework the system to go around the damaged spot. I’m not completely sure how I’m going to do that…”

“Well, best to get it raised up a bit or something,” Reynyagn said. “And then we can take a look at the physical damage done. I think I might be able to move the machine up that much, so-”

“Don’t move,” Rider hissed, sliding a long corsha rapier out of its sheath. “There’s something watching us.” His eyes darted to where he thought he had seen the movement but he saw nothing—at least right now he saw nothing.

“What is it?” Astrid asked, an element of fear to her voice.

“I just sensed movement,” Rider said. “Just be on your guard.” They were silent for several minutes. Rider looked around but he could still see nothing. Maybe it was nothing, but still… His instincts rarely failed him.

“I don’t see anything,” Reynyagn said as he looked around. “Where was it?”

“Well, it was from that direction,” Rider said, slowly gesturing with his head. “But then from that direction, I thought I-”

Whatever he was about to say was lost as suddenly, Zarien gave a cry, clutching his head, and collapsed to the ground. Flek spun around, reaching for his swords, as he moved to defend himself, but just as he saw his attacker he too clutched at his head and collapsed. Astrid and Brother Tomas fell at the same time. Rider turned to see the attackers but saw nothing. Something flashed by his eye and Kailen and Jroldin also fell down.

“Where is it coming from?” Monty yelled, and fired his gun toward what he thought was the source before he too collapsed. It was now only Rider, Reynyagn, and Number 994.

“Get in the ship!” Rider yelled. “Maybe in there we can be safe!”

“I know what-” Number 994 began before he too clutched at his head. His eyes bulged and it seemed like for a moment he was fighting against it. But then he also went limp and collapsed. But Rider and Reynyagn were already moving. Rider made it to the door just as Reynyagn gave a cry. Tripping backwards, Reynyagn stared outwards as he flung his arms to either side while holding his head. Powerless to help his friend, it was all Rider could do to get in the vehicle before he watched Reynyagn fall back limply and off the cliff down toward whatever was below. Rider’s eyes followed Reynyagn’s descent as he bit his lip.

Rider slammed the door to the airship shut as his mouth opened wide, agape. Then he sharply turned, looking around through the windows at the world outside to try and catch whatever their assailant was.

They can’t be dead. The rest of the Xavier team just can’t be dead. Rider turned his head but couldn’t see anything through the snow. Then, a dark figure emerged and walked toward them. Rider tried to see who it was, but couldn’t make out any details. Leaping for the door, Rider slid the lock before leaping back, sword ready to meet the figure. Several other figures emerged, but thanks to the fierceness of the storm, Rider couldn’t make out anything. He stepped back, almost paralyzed with fear, before he gritted his teeth. He would do this. He would rescue his comrades.

Making for the weapons stash, Rider withdrew a powerful blaster gun from the hold and had just begun to turn back when the front window of the machine shattered with a resounding clap. As snow blew into his eyes, Rider pointed the gun wildly, trying to see who it was. Before he could spot someone though, a sharp wave of pain cascaded into his mind, reducing his usage of his other senses. Rider shot wildly toward the front window as he stumbled back, unable to speak. The pain ripped through his mind as milliseconds seemed like minutes. Rider felt himself fall forward as his hands moved toward his pained head. Rider faintly remembered hitting the ground. But try as he might he couldn’t remember anything else as the darkness came to meet him.

Question of the Week:What will happen to the Xavier Team?

_After reading this part some may ask, what does it matter? Why should you care who is governor? Well... I'm just going to keep that my little secret ^_^ But what do you think? What part do you think the governorship of Araelia will play in the long-term, and who do you support for governor? And do you think Astrid is honest with her foreign policy, or is it all mostly a political gimmick?

Part XLII: Debate

Date: Yippah 13th, 114 A.U.

Iraina looked in the mirror as his stylist put the last finishing touches on his hair before Iraina put on the dark shades that he would wear until he got up on the podium, finishing off his look. His good looks, combined with his call to arouse the city to go out to war against the elves had gotten the youth well on his side; all that was now needed was to convince those in the city who had been alive for longer than that and were more firmly behind the aged Astrid. After checking with the stylist to make sure he was good, Iraina sat down in the seat in preparation for when the limousine stopped at the town hall where he would have his debate with the Governor. Iraina was ready.

The limousine pulled to a stop, and Iraina waited for his guards to get to the door before he opened it, smiling and waving to the waiting crowd. Raising his hand in the air as a salute, he met the many hands that were held out towards him and laughed along with the crowd as he made his way toward the town hall, grinning and having fun with the rest of the jubilant crowd. Get them worked up; get them in a frenzy about him—make them in love with him. It would only further to increase the votes.



“You have to be on top of things at this debate, Astrid,” her campaign manager was saying. “The spike you got for the Xavier Team is almost gone and you’re going to need something to convince the people who joined you for the Xavier Team to get back with you. You need to make them just as jubilant as before with any information that you have from them.”

“But the information we’ve gotten from them so far-”

“Make them excited, Astrid,” the campaign manager said. “Iraina’s lead is only growing in the polls; you have to come out and hit him now. Alright?”

“All right,” Astrid said, pursing her lips. “I’ll do it.”


Iraina stepped up to his podium and deftly removed his shades, placing them under the podium, as he smiled at the crowd. A moment later, Astrid came out to the stage and deliberatively walked to the podium, crisply arranging herself there. Iraina noticed her tenseness and relaxed a little more. It would look good to the voters. He watched as the debate moderator came out and smiled. Their efforts to get a moderator sympathetic to his side had worked; now it was time to use all of his advantages to continue his rise to match Governor Astrid.


“This question is fielded to you from John Wilson from the eighth district,” the moderator said. “The question is, Candidate Iraina, you have said that you want to move aggressively against the elves. My question is, how do you plan on outmatching the forces of the elves?”

Iraina relaxed a bit. He had rehearsed his answer to this many times. “Well, Mr. Wilson,” Iraina said. “One doesn’t need to have greater forces than the elves to be able to defeat them. When the elves first rose to power, they didn’t primarily gain that power through the strength of arms but through the element of surprise. Thanks to some certain lax policies of our governor, we have refused to strike even though we are able.

I have evidence from a former cabinet member to our governor that shows that we have very detailed reports of the elves strengths and where their weak points are; furthermore, we have had such information for decades and have even been in positions to unleash a devastating strike against them. The only thing that has stopped us before from hitting the elves hard with a surprise surgical strike is because we have a governor who has consistently vetoed all efforts by us the people to try and regain our freedom. This is not acceptable; we have been subjugated by the elves too long—let’s stop electing a hesitating governor and elect someone who has bold plans to take that which is rightfully ours.” The crowd erupted in applause as Iraina smiled. Let’s see Astrid try and defend against that.

“Governor, a thirty second rebuttal?” the moderator asked.

“Thank you,” Astrid said as the applause died down. “My fellow candidate here wishes to both take the glory and the claimed failures of my previous policies in office. As we heard him say, one of the best benefits we have in this battle is the element of surprise. But while my fellow candidate here has wished to take stabs at all my policies, he has forgotten to point out that the only reason we have the surprise is because I’ve given us that advantage through our years of secrecy. Before now we haven’t been able to strike against them because we simply lacked the strength. It is only a fool that strikes when he isn’t ready. But as I have shown throughout my record, I am willing and I have done my best to ready ourselves to be able to strike out against them. It is through my patience that we’ve had time to gather a team of prophesy to go out and fight against the elves. So, unless my colleague would like to take the glory for my work in electing the Xavier Team, let’s look at who really has the record of working against the elves, all right?” The crowd again erupted in applause. But Iraina was ready in his rebuttal.

“Governor Astrid has claimed,” Iraina said, “that we have been merely waiting for the right opportunity to strike out against the elves and that all the advantages we have are because of her. Now, people of Araelia, let me ask you. Why is it that for months of our campaigning here, our governor argued time and time again that there was no use fighting against the elves until she started losing her inevitability in the polls? She would like to take all the praise for the Xavier Team and use that to prove that she wants to fight aggressively, but who was on that side first? Time and time again in this election I’ve argued for an aggressive push while she has flipped her side just to try and win this election so that she can go back to the same-old policies. Well, let me tell you something. I’m not running for the same-old policies! I’m not flipping sides just to gain votes! Governor Astrid has emphasized her stable side over the years, but if she’s willing to change her stable side at a moment’s notice in order to gain votes, what does that say about the stability of her side?” The crowd roared in applause as Iraina noticed Astrid bite her lip. Governor Astrid fumbled her response as Iraina relaxed to the roaring of the crowd. His numbers were going to be rising. His numbers were going to be rising.

Question of the Week:What are your answers for my above questions?

_Part Forty One... Back to the Xavier Team... Haven't had many comments lately, except for my short story parts... I better come up with my new comment contest soon for comments :P

Part XLI: Detour

Date: Yippah 8th, 114 A.U.

The rising sun cast its healing beams abroad to touch the rocky mountainside and the air ship that moved past it. Jroldin yawned as he left his quarters toward the front of the ship. Reynyagn was already out and staring intently at something up ahead. Jroldin moved next to Reynyagn and cocked his head to peer around him to see the mountains ahead.

“What is it?” Jroldin asked, seeing Reynyagn’s intent stare.

“Out there,” Reynyagn said, gesturing. Jroldin looked at where Reynyagn was gesturing and thought he could make out what Reynyagn was pointing at. It looked like a gray mass in the distance—almost looking like one of the mountains from Jroldin’s distance, though Jroldin thought it might be flying.

“What is it?” Jroldin asked.

“I’m trying to get some readings on it,” Reynyagn said. “But I think…” Reynyagn paused. “It’s rather far out and large enough that I suspect it to be an elven city.”

Jroldin focused on the small grey mass in the distance. “What?”

“A huge flying city,” Reynyagn said. “Picture it like one of the above-ground cities of old—just on a large base and having massive powerful thrusters on the bottom side that keep it afloat. It is in such cities that many elves live.”

“You mean…” Jroldin said. “That that’s-” The computer beeped and Reynyagn moved to see its reading.

“Yes,” Reynyagn said, looking at the screen. “That’s a huge floating elven city. And trust me. We don’t want to get anywhere near it.”

“We could go around it,” Jroldin said. “It looks like-”

“I’ve been checking that out,” Reynyagn said. “But the options aren’t terrible alluring. To the right, once we avoid the city we’d be moving toward a place blanketed by storms. And without a lot of tools in case the airship is hit, I’d rather not go there. And to the left we’d be moving back to the elves’ traditional homeland…”

“So?”

“I suppose it should be fine…” Reynyagn said. “But I worry about there being more cities there… I know that there are a fair amount of elven ground cities and labor camps there… And it will be higher elevation; I suppose this machine is supposed to do that, but given that we’ve only been trying it closer to the ground, I’m not sure how well it will withstand the higher elevation.”

“Well, if the problem there might be cities, given that there’s a flying city here, unless being off track is that bad…” Jroldin began.

“True,” Reynyagn said. “Better to go for a lower chance there than an automatic chance here of hitting a city. We go left then…” He began punching numbers into the computer as Rider came out.

“Greetings,” Rider said as he joined them. “What are you doing?” Jroldin quickly explained the problem and their solution.

“Very well, I suppose,” Rider said, and he pursed his lips as he clenched his hand into a fist. “I came from the elves’ traditional homeland.”

“Oh!” Jroldin said, intrigued to hear some of Rider’s mysterious past. “What did you do there?”

Rider said nothing for a moment before speaking. “I was a slave,” he said. “It’s unusual for an elf to be a slave, yes, but I was one. My parents had done something horribly wrong and so they got stripped of their status as an elf and were sent to work with the other races in the labor camps.”

“Labor camps?” Jroldin interrupted.

“It’s what the elves have done with most of the survivors from the other races,” Rider said. “They capture them and bring them to many of their labor camps where they do much of the menial labor required to keep their weak bodies from doing any work. It was at that labor camp that I spent the first ten years of my life at before I managed to get an opening and escaped. I nearly died, but I managed to escape. Fortune smiled on me so that I met with a dwarven scout party and joined them, and by that means managed to come into the mountains away from being constantly hunted.”

“Oh…” Jroldin said. “So that’s why you are an outcast.”

“Aye,” Rider said. “They treat them worse like animals, the elves do to the other races. Mind my words, Jroldin. There are few fates worse than being in the labor camps. I would sooner befriend a dog than one of those mongrel elves. I could strangle them all with my bare hands.”

Jroldin stepped back at the harshness of Rider’s words.

“You wouldn’t react so if you’ve seen the things that I have seen,” Rider said. “And I have seen things, Jroldin. Scenes that few, except perhaps you, Reynyagn—especially you given that you were a witness of the massacre—have seen. If you ever wonder why it is that you are fighting against the elves, go no further than to ask me. Or visit one of the labor camps for yourselves.” Rider spat on the ground. “Wicked beings.” And with that, he spun on a heel and left. Jroldin watched him go, unsure of what to say.

“He’s seen awful things,” Reynyagn said, as if he was reading Jroldin’s mind. “Things that have taken me over a century to wipe out of my mind. There are many horrible things in life, Jroldin. Take heed that you do not dwell upon them.”

Question of the Week: What do you think about Rider?