Well, I don't usually have an unrelated joke in my random section here, but it was so funny I thought i would... To have best celebrated Columbus Day two weeks ago, the best way to do so would be to find some random person's house, marched in and said, "This is my house now!!!" (For those who do not get it, think about what Columbus did...

But anyways, after the comments for my last post, I have decided to pick that the winner gets to help create a character for the Arquenia Saga. So here are the rules of a contest: You get 2 pts for the first time you comment on a post and 1 pt for the second time--so you can get in total 3 pts for commenting for each post (you only get pts for the most recent post). This contest will run until the end of this year, by which time Book I of the Arquenia Saga will end (don't have a name for Book I yet: hence no real "official" info on that). At that time, whoever has the most pts will be able to come up with a character of any race with his/her name (or some other name if they would so desire), come up with their personality/background to some extent, etc.

Part IX: The Assault

Date: Amanela 1st, 114 A.U.

Commander Elnyan held his head in his hands in sheer panic. The ship was being attacked—and the radars didn’t even sense all the new intelligent beings, even though it was obvious they were here! In desperation he grabbed a phone and quickly dialed the number.

“Hello? HQ!” he said. “This is Commander Elnyan with the captured Sla’ad! We’ve got huge trouble here—huge! The radars aren’t working so a group of goblins are assaulting the ship and have almost broken in! They blew up the guardships with missiles! …. YES! The radars aren’t registering anything! ...” An explosion shook the ship. “Look! That’s them getting into the ship now! The radar must be broken or something! I’ll try to get us out of this, but I don’t know… yes… yes sir!” Elnyan slammed down the phone in indignation. His fault. The radars malfunctioning was his fault. Elnyan gritted his teeth. He would get this ship back to the Mothership in one piece… or else.


Glancing at the guards coming up behind him, Flek leapt into the air, grabbing his two arjla corsha swords from the twin sheaths strapped onto his back. The arjla swords were a work of goblin mastery. Unlike most swords, these swords had two half-spherical metal parts that attached to the handle of the sword. Flek pushed a button on the handle and the two half-spheres snapped shut to form a sphere with a hole on the one end for Flek’s arm. Inside the sphere and along the scabbard there were various buttons and sliders for Flek’s hand to move. By pushing different buttons and sliding different sliders, Flek was able to make the blade rotate, as well as come down at an angle so that the blade made a 90 degree angle with the handle. A true work of mastery, arjla swords were hard to make and expensive to buy, especially when they had the burning corsha metal for their blades. They were also extremely difficult to use. But, when used well, arjla swords were a terror on the battle field.

Landing on the ground, Flek ran forward, slicing the air with his swords. The elves began to fire their guns. Flek watched the bullets speed toward him. Flek flicked the swords and sliced the bullets speeding toward him in half. The mysterious properties of corsha allowed it to in some way enhance one’s reflexes and reaction time so that corsha weapons could actually be used to block bullets.

Blocking all the bullets, Flek made one last leap to reach the started elves and attacked them. The corsha blades swung through the air, hitting their targets. From the corner of his eye, Flek saw other goblins leaping down to help. In short matter of time, the battle was all over, with no casualties.

“All right!” Flek said, pinning the last elf to the wall. “Here’s the deal. Either you tell us where to find the Sla’ad, or I’ll kill you. Let’s be quick now; I don’t want to waste time.”

“Th-the Sla’ad?” the elf asked. “Go to the left… take the second hall way to the right and he’s in a cell there! Please don’t kill me!”

“Thanks for the information,” Flek said. “Can’t have you fighting against us, though, so I’m afraid…”

“No!” the elf shrieked, but it was all too late.




Reynyagn had been asleep in the pitch-black cell when the explosion woke him up. His eyes flickered open and he slowly stood up. The elves had been stupid enough to put him in a darkened cell, a perfect cell, if one were possible, for a Sla’ad. Reynyagn slowly walked over to the door and waited. Something was up. He knew it. And whatever happened, he’d be ready for it.

Folding his hands, Reynyagn walked back and sat down in a darkened corner against the wall, waiting to see if something would happen. He had waited five minutes before he heard noises outside the door and immediately stood up. Reynyagn silently ran over to the door, his feet not even touching the ground, but instead only hovering an inch above the floor when he stepped.

A brilliant light cut through the door and Reynyagn tensed. A corsha sword; one thing he knew already: the intruders weren’t elves or orcs. None of them would dare stoop to using an Old Weapon. Unfortunately, that also meant that the invaders had in hand the one weapon that could kill a Sla’ad. With a creak, the door swung open. Reynyagn moved behind the door and watched as the intruders entered. Two goblins entered the room, looking around. One held two arjla corsha swords, the other was small and held two corsha daggers. Reynyagn gauged his opposition before making his move.

“That lying elf-” the tall one began. Suddenly, Reynyagn materialized out of the shadows. The tall one gave a small cry of surprise before Reynyagn grabbed him in a headlock and drew him back into the darkness.

“No wrong moves or I snap his neck,” Reynyagn said. “Tell me what you want. Now.”

“We’re here to rescue you!” Reynyagn’s captive said, no fear expressed in his voice. “Come now; release me. Snap my neck and the rest of my crew will be more than happy to kill you.” He gestured to the rest of their force outside the door. “Come now; what would be the purpose of coming in here if not to rescue you? To capture you for ourselves? We’ve got bigger enemies than the random Sla’ad.”

“Fair enough,” Reynyagn said, releasing the goblin.

“Name’s Flek,” Flek said. “Now that we’ve got you, let’s get out of here. Our airships following overhead!”

Flek ran toward the door, Reynyagn following. “Why leave the ship, though?” Reynyagn said. “The guard force stationed on this ship is pitiful. As long as you disabled the guardship, why not take this ship? I can steer it, and think about how valuable an elven ship could be in our hands?”

Flek stopped running for a moment, paused, and cocked his head, before grinning. “Let’s do it,” he said.

Question of the Week:If you could change one thing about the serial as it is going along right now, what would it be?

No comments on my last couple posts... How sad... I've been thinking of doing a contest to see who can get the most comments per post; something like 2 pts for one comment on a post, 3 pts for two comments on a post (as long as they aren't something like 'this comment is to get a pt!' and they aren't consecutive...) But I need a prize for the winner...

Part VIII: Jroldin

Date: Amanela 2nd, 114 A.U.

Jroldin slowly walked downstairs to the kitchen, wondering what they had for breakfast. They had been running out of food lately, and it always took a while for his dad to remember to get to the store. And as for Jroldin’s mom, Jroldin wasn’t completely sure what happened to her. The only thing that he knew was that she was gone, and that he had only vague impressions of her. Dad didn’t like to talk about it much.

Jroldin managed to find some slices of bread hiding in the drawer that had all the pots and pans. His dad usually liked to try to hide food there to make sure that he had something to eat and hadn’t yet found out that Jroldin had discovered it. Jroldin took two of the four slices and put them in the toaster before sitting down at the table, waiting for them to be done.

Leaning back in his chair, Jroldin took down the calendar and threw it away. It was a new year. Jroldin wasn’t sure that they had a new calendar for the year 114, and, after fruitlessly looking until the toast popped, Jroldin gave up and sat down again to eat his toast.

Glancing at his watch, which had the date on it, Jroldin started mentally counting the days to his seventeenth birthday and Naming Day. It was a dwarvish tradition never to name the child until his seventeenth birthday. Until then, the child just took his father’s or mother’s name and added the abbreviation for Junior, Jr, somewhere within his name. Sometimes their name could be kind of awkward, like with Jroldin’s friend Mjrark. And sometimes the name was near unpronounceable and so they’d just pick some nickname for them. Jroldin never completely understood this specific dwarvish tradition.

Jroldin wasn’t exactly sure what his dad was planning for naming day. Naming day was traditionally the day that the new dward adult moved out of the house and got a job and such, but his dad hadn’t talked about it at all, or if Jroldin would be able to choose his own name, as the tradition had developed at this time, or if he was going to go back to the old tradition of him just choosing his name. In fact, his dad hadn’t talked about Naming Day at all. Jroldin wondered if it was intentional.

Finishing his toast, Jroldin put his plate with the stack of plates in the sink and walked toward the counter, where he saw a note. He briefly scanned the note. Nothing interesting, just dad saying that he’d be later than usual, just as he’d been the last couple weeks. It figures. His dad was trying to work on some uber-secretive case, as always, and tended to be late.

Jroldin sat down on a couch and wondered what to do. Upon the ending of the last year, he was now in the awkward situation where he was done all of his schooling, but didn’t really have much to do since no one hired anyone younger than seventeen. At least in the dwarf section of Araelia. Jroldin pondered trying to get a job in the greater, human, section of Araelia. It wasn’t a regular occurrence for a dwarf. Jroldin shrugged; it wouldn’t be that long for naming day; I mean, he wasn’t one of those dwarves who had their naming day toward the end of the year and had a whole year free, so Jroldin didn’t worry about that.

Picking up the phone, Jroldin decided to call Mjrark to see what he was planning on doing today. Dialing his number, Jroldin waited for the phone to ring a couple times, before he remembered that it was kind of early in the morning, and Mjrark’s family generally slept in late. Just as he heard an angry voice say hello on the other end, Jroldin put the phone back on the receiver. He hoped that Mjrark’s family didn’t have caller ID.



At 11:03 sharp, three pairs of eyes watched Jroldin as he left the house to go to a meeting with his friends. Sitting in a parked car, the three men watched as Jroldin got into a hovercar and drove off.

“Follow him,” one of the men said, and the car soon revved up, and moved out into the street, tailing Jroldin.

“According to what he said to his friends on the phone, he’s going to the Marclay Arcade,” one of the other men said. “So we don’t have to follow him directly there. Just take another route.”

“Do you have the bug to plant on him?” another asked.

“Yeah,” one of them replied. “I’ve got it. It’ll be an easy job. Just go in, make a distraction, get the bug on him, and get out of there. We’ve done tougher things before.”

“Just so long as it works out fine,” he said. “Boss’ll be mad if we mess up this job.”



Jroldin swaggered into the Marclay Arcade, looking around for his friends. Spotting them, he jogged over to where they were in a group, trying to decide about what to do.

“They got some new shootin’ games over to the left,” Mjrark was saying. “Or we can continue our adventure at the Five4Fighting zone to the right.”

“New is good,” Jroldin said. “I say let’s try something new. Five4Fighting is gettin’ old.” As they continued to discuss what to do, Jroldin didn’t notice the man coming behind him. Too absorbed in his conversation, he didn’t notice the small antenna carefully placed in his hair. He did notice a man running away from the arcade, but he didn’t think much about it.

Perhaps he should have.

Question of the Week:What do you think should be a prize for a commenting contest?

Well, today is my first (and hopefully only) Friday post...  I'm gone all Saturday at a youth retreat, and weebly doesn't let me to automate it posting it automatically on Saturday, so...   Anyways, today I get to introduce one of the major villains in the Arquenia Saga, Unyihi Garum. And for those wondering, I'm really specific on his pronunciation. He is pronounced as "Oon-yih-hee Gar-oom." Not "un-yi-hi Gar-um" or anything like that. Oonyihhee Garoom.

Part VII: Unyihi Garum

Date: Amanela 2nd, 114 A.U.

“Red alert! Red alert!” The siren went on wailing even though everyone had already heard it over a dozen times. “Western 4th Command Center down! Lack of communication! This is red alert! Red alert!”

Unyihi Garum shook his head and gritted his teeth as he flew down the road in the hovering motorcycle-like contraption, modified for its specific use in the Mothership. Coming to the turn, he made a sharp spin of the wheel to the left and cruised into a parking lot before leaping out and walking through an open door to the Western Computer Control Center.

“I want reports now of the damage!” Unyihi barked out. An impressive size for an orc, Unyihi’s had golden skin, a sharp contrast to the normal blues and reds of orcish skin. He had been gifted with the dual-gift of wielding fire and electricity, in contrast to all other elves, who could only wield one type which was decided by their genes at birth. Wielding electricity was the more dominant factor in the genes, but there were a good many who could wield fire. Unyihi Garum could do both.

“The Western 4th Command Center has been, according to all reports, sabotaged, zar!” a blue orc said, running up to him. Unyihi glanced at the number on his forehead. 997. It was an OK rank for an orc tasked to be on the Mothership.

“What are the reports about who did it?” Unyihi barked out.

“We have found some security footage of an elf throwing a bomb into the main computer room, Garum, zar!” Number 997 said. “According to reports, the elf got down through the air tubes. The cycle was changed right after the last check on that system to cycle the robots away, giving the elf time to get down there. Our people are still working on identifying the elf! Much of the framework of the Western 4th Section, as well as all its software, has been undermined, and-”

“Cease report,” Unyihi snapped. “Others will deal with framework issues. What task was the 4th Command Center tasked with doing?”
“The Western 4th Command Center was mostly tasked with managing the Western Prison as well as helping with various other, normal tasks, to run the Western 4th Section, zar!” Number 997 said.

Unyihi thought about that for a moment before giving orders: “I want your team to reprogram the other systems to temporarily perform the work that the sabotaged Command Center got done as well as their own, and to identify the elf who was the cause for this! I also want you to find out who cycled out the robots. Now get to it!”

“Yes, zar!” Number 997 said, and bowing, turned around and returned to his comrades. Unyihi Garum briskly left the room, taking a quick glance at his watch, before getting on the hovering motorcycle and speeding out back onto the road. He put his hand in his pocket to pull out a cell phone, one specifically made for communications within the security force of the Mothership. Unyihi seriously doubted that whoever was in charge of this was just trying to do some sabotage work that could be quickly cleaned up. In fact, Unyihi had a pretty good idea of the larger scheme that they were trying to pull off.

“Hello!” Unyihi said. “I want all teams in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Western Sections to provide immediate backup to the Western Prison. I want all men stationed at the Western Prison to be on code red alert immediately and to be prepared for a planned jailbreak from the outside!”

“Yes, Garum, zar!”

“Yes, zar!”

“Yes, Garum, zar!” The responses begin flooding back as Unyihi put down the cell phone and accelerated on the motorcycle. Whatever rebel group it was, he bet they were going for the prison. And Unyihi wanted to make sure that their scheme didn’t get any farther than the sabotaging of the 4th Western Command Center.



Unyihi Garum arrived at the intersection of one of the halls leading to the main center of the Western Prison to find it a scene of chaos. A quick overview of the situation told him that most of the Mothership forces were in the halls outside, trying to get into the main center of the Western Prison, barricaded presumably by the rebels. The Mothership forces were hiding around the corner, popping out only briefly to shoot and try to hit someone, before popping back. Unyihi watched the exchange of fire going on for a couple moments before gritting his teeth.

“You’re getting nowhere by this!” Unyihi roared. “We need to take them down, now!” Stepping out from behind the corner, Unyihi gazed down the hallway at the makeshift barricade and at the guns pointed out of it. Unyihi let out a roar of rage and stretched out his hand before the rebels could do anything. A stream of lightning mixed with fire shot out of it, hitting the center of the barricade.

With a huge explosion, the barricade was up in flames, screams emitting from behind it. Unyihi quickly walked forward, eyes alert, as he drew near. Bullets began to randomly fly through the screen of smoke and fire, none of them hitting him.

Unyihi sent a wave of crackling electricity through the smoke screen and satisfactorily heard screams of pain as he hit his target. “Follow me!” Unyihi snapped to the cowering elves behind him, who grudgingly replied.

Stepping up to the barrier, Unyihi stretched out his hand and let the fire wrap around his hand. Then Unyihi made a motion with the hand and all the fire snuffed out, the smoke beginning to clear. Unyihi bent down and picked up the charred table that had made a barricade, an impressive feat for an orc, as all orcs were physically extremely weak, and tossed it to the side, to reveal a shocked group of elves who were trying to herd escaped convicts through a door.

Unyihi gave a roar and shot out another wave of crackling lightning, picking out his targets. The lightning struck each of them, lifting them up into the air. Unyihi curled his fingers into a fist and the victims suddenly grasped at their throats. A tighter fist and all muscles in their body went tense. The elves behind Unyihi ran out from behind him, shooting down other rebels. Suddenly, Unyihi released his fist and extended his arm, sending all his victims flying against the wall with sickening crunches.

Already the rebels, mostly elves, were fleeing the room. A couple tried to shoot at Unyihi. Unyihi mindlessly sent out electric pulses, making the bullets bounce off from its original course. Another wave of electricity, and the hapless shooters were caught in Unyihi’s power. Unyihi curled his hand into a fist. And at that same moment, the computers kicked on again, and the doors of the hall that led to the jail cells slid shut.

Question of the Week:What makes a really good villain? (This is not a question of whether or not you like Unyihi, or whether he is a good villain or not, though you can answer that if you want. It's void of any context whatever: What makes a good villain?)

And now we get to move on to Part VI... maybe I'll actually get some comments on this post?  I'm thinking about making a contest where you get pts by commenting...  back to that later...
Part VI: Truth or Mere Politics?

Date: Amanela 2nd, 114 A.U.

“Well, Justin, I must say that regardless of whether or not the speech was merely for political purposes, or whether she truly meant everything she said, that was really a great speech,” the newscaster said.

“Well, I can’t disagree with you there, Reagan!” Justin said. “Either way we look at it, that was a very motivational and moving speech; very nicely planned there by Governor Astrid. Although, as we have been hinting at, there has been some controversy about whether or not the Governor actually meant everything she said, or if she was merely using here platform as the leader of the Remembrance Session as a façade for her campaign purposes.”

“And that’s something that a lot of members from Iraina’s political team has really called foul on,” Reagan said. “Although we have yet to get an official response from Iraina himself, a lot of prominent members in his campaign team have really denounced Astrid for unjustly using her position to try to sway votes to her cause.”

“And really,” Justin said, “Iraina’s campaign team needs everything that they can get to pull ahead. Recent polls show Astrid still at a 30% lead in the polls, which, although it is great, really, I think it’s pretty impressive for someone running against Astrid to get.”

“Which brings us to our next talking point,” Reagan said. “Has Astrid weakened over the years? Just ten years ago, we all would have thought it impossible for someone to actually have a slight bit of a fighting chance against Astrid. After really saving many from the elvish destruction, she’s had the Governorship of Araelia for 112 years now. But now, we actually have someone opposing Astrid, and doing a pretty darn good job at that. Let’s look at what Reed, the lead spokesman for Iraina, has to say about this.”

A video popped up on the television screen of Reed, a dark-colored man who was standing behind a podium. “Well, we also saw it,” Reed said. “Quite a big speech coming from Governor Astrid. But what I want to ask you is, does she really mean it? As we all know, throughout her last 28 terms of being governor, she has stuck to a very non-militaristic very passive view to how we should interact with the elves. And now, all of a sudden, once Iraina comes up saying that we should actively fight against the elves, now she says that we should fight against them? I don’t know what you think, but I think that this is mere political talk, campaign promises, aimed at to do nothing else but to try and win this political campaign instead of actually thinking about what is best for Araelia. Furthermore-“

Astrid turned off the television. She was going to have to get to the hospital soon to perform her duties as a nurse, and she didn’t feel like continuing to listen to all the talk about what Governor Astrid truly meant by her speech. Astrid had managed to get to the Remembrance Ceremony only an hour late, which although it meant that she had to skip half of the dances and presentations, she had still been able to see half of the dances and presentations and also seen the Remembrance Session, a session of which she was sure would write down its name in history.

Astrid thought that Governor Astrid, her namesake, had been telling the truth when she had added on to the last part of the session. She seemed to sincere to just be doing it all for political garbage. Astrid shook her head. Enough of thinking about politics and true meanings behind words. She was supposed to get to the hospital. And she wasn’t going to be late because she was thinking of nonsense.



“Good thing you’re here, Astrid,” the secretary said, ruffling through a folder. “A man named Jeffrey Taylor has just arrived here. He was transported here by ambulance because of a heart attack. All of the other doctors are currently employed or still trying to get here, and so as head nurse, I’d like you to go take charge of the situation. He is in emergency room 3”

“Right away, ma’am,” Astrid said and quickly hurried down the corridor to emergency room 3. She hoped that it wasn’t so bad that she wouldn’t able to perform the duties by herself. She could probably get promoted pretty well in the system if she was able to pull this one through.



“And here’s the computer’s report on Mr. Taylor,” the nurse said. “I haven’t had time to look at it yet, so…”

“Thank you,” Astrid said, quickly scanning the computer report. She paused, and her head cocked, and she tapped at the figure. This was odd… this didn’t seem to look like a normal heart attack would… Although to the more untrained mind it would, Astrid knew for certain that this wasn’t usual. The heart attack seemed much too weak to do such damage…

Astrid opened her mouth to speak when suddenly there was a gasping noise. Astrid turned to see Mr. Taylor, on the operating table, jerk up, staring intently at Astrid, and then his eyes went dull and his limp body collapsed to the table. And the heart beat meter let out a high pitched sound of alarm.



Astrid left the room, a bit shaken, and still quite puzzled. It was indeed the eighth death that she had seen in person, but that didn’t avoid the chill that flew through her bones. And she still didn’t understand the computer report. None of it made sense. The heart attack was much too weak to have put him in this state of condition, and yet, there he was, dead. It just didn’t match up.

Astrid was so intent on the report, that she didn’t realize the man walking up to her until she nearly collided into him. She jerked her head up. “Oh, excuse me…” she said. “It was my mist-”

Suddenly, the man grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into a broom closet, letting the door close behind them, dim light showing through the cracks of the door.

“Wha-” Astrid asked, fear coursing through her heart.

“You had better not show that report to anyone,” the man said. “Unless you think that your life is worthless. Which it is.”

Question of the Week: Which style of writing do you like more? Long detailed writing like Dickens or short to-the-point writing like Hemmingway?

And here we go on to the second round of stories to start meeting old friends again and not just meeting new ones! (not to say that meeting new ones isn't good... however, if all i did was to introduce new characters I would first not get very far in this story unless I was extremely creative (and I'm not that creative) and secondly I would get lots of people mad with me because they can't keep track of all the characters and I'd lose all my readers... and that would be very sad... ) Anyways, enough of my long parenthetical musings!

V: Operation Capture

Date: Amanela 1st, 114 A.U.

High above the thick canopy trees of the Great Forest, five elven airships quickly moved across the sky with precious cargo, a rare Sla’ad. Commander Elnyan, the man given the duty of bringing this Sla’ad to the Mothership, glanced at the detection screen once more, even though he had already glanced on it innumerable times on the trip. The detection screen showed how many intelligent living beings were within a three hundred mile radius of the airship. Even though every other time he had checked there hadn’t been any, although there had been an occasionally one far off away, Elnyan was still paranoid. If he messed up on this delivery, there would be consequences. And Elnyan didn’t want to think about what those consequences would be.



Flek gritted his teeth as the airship continued to accelerate, flying up past the canopied trees of the Great Forest and up into the air. Flek could see the airship afar off. He slowly moved his hand to his watch-like contraption on his wrist, painstakingly annoying the pressure that was put on his hand to fly back against the seat because of the rapid acceleration of the venicle. Flek put his hand over the contraption and waited, as the airship quickly drew closer to the five elven ships and he slowly mouthed out the words. Three. Two. One.

Flek pushed a button on his watch. Two seconds later, from a place well beyond where the elven ships were, Flek managed to spot four air missiles soaring out, flying toward the four airships guarding the central one. Flek again mouthed out words. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev-

The missiles hit their targets dead on, sending an explosion of fire and metal shrapnel flying through the air, the explosion hiding the center ship from view. Flek could feel his airship begin to slow down as it began to near the last elven ship standing. Flek noticed the elven airship accelerate as it flew past the firey remains of the other ships. Flek sighed and turned away and began to tap his fingers, impatiently waiting for the signal.

“Constant velocity now reached,” a mechanical voice said. Flek quickly unbuckled his seat belts, along with all the others.

“All right!” Flek said. “Get out your boarding gear and prepare to make landing!" Flek quickly buckled on his landing gear, a backpack with a tube coming out of it that was connected to a large gun-like contraption. After fastening it, Flek moved to the back of the airship, his other comrades following him. A large hole soon opened in the floor, revealing the elven ship beneath them.

“Get in the lineup!” Flek said, and the goblins began to lineup behind him. Flek watched as the elven ship changed its velocity several times, trying to shake off the goblin ship. Flek waited for a good moment, and then fired the trigger on his backpack-gun contraption.

A rope flew out from the gun, a suction cup at the end of it, flying down until it attached itself on the ship. As soon as it attached, the rope went taut. Flek went flying down toward the airship, and pushed another button on the backpack. A parachute blossomed out of it, helping to slow his fall. But still the airship loomed closer. With a jolt, Flek hit the airship, and fell forward onto his face, the impact jarring his bones. Flek shook his head, got up, and raised his arm, making the sign for the next goblin to come down.

The goblin came down, and then another, and another. Flek wasn’t sure how many they’d be able to get down on the airship before the elves realized what was happening and would try more drastic moves. Finally, on the eighth member coming down, the elven airship took a quick plunge downwards. Flek staggered backwards, holding onto the taut rope for support. The eighth member flew wildly through the air as he was pulled closer to the ship. The airship continued to plunge down toward the trees and Flek felt a chill grow in his heart. What if the elves are going to go kamikaze to keep us from getting the Sla’ad?

Suddenly, the airship rocketed upward and Flek breathed out. They were safe. Well, all except for the hapless eighth goblin. The eighth goblin, Kailen, the general pessimistic one of the group gave a scream as he continued to fly downward and went on to smash against the trees. Flek heard a sickening crunch. The rope continued to wind up, pulling Kailen’s smashed body onto the top of the aircraft. Flek shuddered.

Flek held down another button on his watch. “All right, Cornun,” he said. “Seven of us have safely landed. Kailen got smashed against the trees, so he isn’t with us anymore. The elves know what’s up right now, so no use sending any more men down to get smashed against the trees. We’ll finish this out from here. Over.”

“Received your message,” Cornun’s voice said. “We await further instructions. May the Mother Tree be with you. Over.”

Flek shut off communication and looked at the other men, swiftly nodding. “All right!” he said. “Let’s get moving! We have to get in here, get the Sla’ad, and get the heck out of here as soon as possible. Can’t waste time trying to kill all the enemies in here. Reklen! Get the explosion going!”

Reklen, an unusually small goblin, moved out away from the group, going against the rope that attached him to the airship, and then put a metal plate on the top of the airship. The metal plate snapped to the top, and Reklen ran back to them. As soon as he was back, he pressed a button on a small device he held. An explosion shook the ship back and forth as the explosion opened up a hole in the ceiling.

Flek waited for the place to cool down a bit before speaking. “Ok!” Flek said. Unbuckle your backpacks and let’s move down there!” Unstrapping his backpack, Flek ran lightly across the roof and dropped down into the hole, landing in a corridor.

And with two groups of guards running toward him from the two opposite ends of the corridor, fully armed, and ready for battle.

Question of the Week: In the next part featuring Flek, we're going to learn about a very strange type of sword that many of the great goblin fighters use. What do you think is going to be different about this strange type of sword that the goblins use that will make it difficult to use, but very rewarding if you know how to work it?

A significantly longer part this time: close to three times as long as my average post. Pay attention to the date. As you might notice, as the last part was on Amanela 2nd, this is still back on Amanela 1st... Don't worry too much over it though. Although this serial might not be in chronological order, when it isn't, I'll keep it from being too confusing by having the different time lines through the different story threads... Oh, and in case you are wondering, I did immensely enjoy writing about everything that Jroldin was doing during the ceremony... For a character that I didn't know much about when I first wrote this part, I now seem to know a lot more of his personality...

Part IV: The Remembrance Ceremony

Date: Amanela 1st, 114 A.U.

Jroldin fidgeted in his seat in the great “outside” auditorium. The outside part was a big joke to him. Less than half a percent in this crowd of around one hundred thousand people could have ever seen the real outside. It was great in size though… Jroldin would give it that. Anything to support a population of around half the size of the whole city was large enough to be called great.

Jroldin wished he didn’t have to attend the Remembrance ceremony. He had been to it every year all sixteen years of his life. But his dad had said that he had to lest the media think anything bad about him. For once, Jroldin wished that his dad wasn’t such a big figure, being the head of the Resistance Bureau of Investigation and all.. then he might be able to skip this event, but no… The Remembrance ceremony could at least have something different each year so that they didn’t just do the same thing over and over again…

Well… The crowning point of the ceremony, the Rememberance Session, had to be the same. All the dances and presentations before and such were different, but they were all so boring! Jroldin had just had to sit through two hours of watching all of it. Some lame form of entertainment. Jroldin would much rather have gone to the arcade for his version of true entertainment. And now they had been waiting a half hour for the Remembrance Session to begin so that the whole stupid thing could be over.

There was a mass cheering throughout the crowd as Astrid, governor of Araelia, walked onto the stage, her face nearly grotesquely enlarged over the movie screens designed to help those who weren’t as fortunate to be in the first couple hundred roles. Jroldin leaned his head back to see the screen. Seeing what Astrid would look like enlarged like this would be amusing at the least.

“Welcome fellowcitizens of Araelia and fellowmembers of the Resistance!” Astrid said. “According to my statistics we now have 96,600 citizens of Araelia here and 5,100 dwarves from the various cities of the Resistance!” Jroldin watched her enlarged wrinkles move as her mouth opened wide to speak, giving a clear look into her mouth. Her face looked large and plastic on the screen. You could really see how old Astrid was on the screen. Jroldin wasn’t too sure about how old she was. It was one of those things he was supposed to know but he didn’t. Jroldin was guessing 147, but he wasn’t exactly sure.

“Today is the 114th anniversary of the Great Upheaval, when the elves turned against us and rose up into the skies,” Astrid said. “Today is also the 96th year that we have performed the Remembrance Ceremony, to remind those born after the Great Upheaval, what we have lost.” The video cameras zoomed out from Astrid to catch the big screen behind her. Jroldin was a bit saddened, as now he couldn’t stare intently on her enlarged plastic phase and looked again toward Astrid. The curtains were pulling back to reveal the screen where they’d show the documentaries during Astrid’s speech about what happened long, long ago.

“One hundred and twenty eight years ago,” Astrid said. “The Kingdom of the Sla’ad, under the leadership of Falknor, declared open hostilities upon the human kingdom of Farlund, seeking to claim more territory on themselves.” The screen behind her saw Sla’ad, armed, running out to battle. The Sla’ad looked like ghostly shadows on the screen.

“For a while it was just Falknor and the Sla’ad fighting it out,” Astrid said. “Until the bloody and horrible day of Fralium came.” A sad music came out upon the loud speakers and the screen showed a city, razed to the ground, rubble all around. “The Sla’ad made a surprise attack on the thriving city of Fralium, and using powerful bombs and their military force, completely razed the city to the ground, killing all but for a few of the previous inhabitants of the city. The human kingdom of Farlund soon after collapsed.” A low drum beat began to play through the loudspeakers. “And thus, following the horrible tragedy, the races of the world combined to fight against this pressing darkness. Screenshots showed of each of the six races of Arquenia, the dwarves, the humans, the elves, the orcs, the goblins, and the Sla’ad. “And, following Xavier’s Prophesy, they elected together one member from each race to join together to form the Xavier Team, to smite the Sla’ad and free the world from the upcoming evil. I was selected to join the team for the human representative, and also… Jaigran.” A slide flashed on the screen of Jaigran’s face, his eyebrows narrowed and his face hardened, staring down as firelight lit up his face.

“Our team did well at first,” Astrid said. “Believing ourselves to be the team that was prophesied by Xavier we did well, leading the armies to battle, handling espionage and sabotage missions, and ultimately breaking down their defenses.” A slide showed of five people from each of the different races excepting the Sla’ad, running through a corridor, weapons ready for a battle. Astrid looked a lot younger.

“Finally, having with the help of all the nations crushed the Sla’ad, we held up almost all of the remaining Sla’ad in the world in the Fortress of Varasheet. Their leaders killed and most all of their defenses gone, the Sla’ad begged for mercy.” A slide showed of a fortress, the slide entitled the Fortress of Varasheet. The fortress was mostly underground, only parts of it sticking out.

“The Council granted them mercy upon the condition they went to the far North, never to return,” Astrid said. “But then, the disaster struck.” Scenes showed of a wall being blown up, armed forces running through, and Sla’ad fleeing. “It soon became obvious that the Council had lied to the Sla’ad, and, under the leadership of Jaigran, who operated this apart from the team, slaughtered all the Sla’ad that were in Varasheet.” A slow drumbeat could be heard across the sound system. “The team had done its work, but all was not well. Jaigran, fueled with ambition, rose up in the eyes of the Council and soon became the head of all the armies of the elves. The now General Jaigran, in 7 B.U. then went to the Council to seek to be made a member of the Council in replacement of the recently retired Council member.” Footage showed on the screen behind Astrid of Jaigran, entering into the room and talking with the Council members, although now sound was heard. “At that time, the different races and nations were governed by a Council made up of three different members that oversaw world affairs. The position went to me rather than Jaigran,” Astrid said. “And this act enfuriated Jaigran. He claimed that he had been the best choice and vehemently left the Council room. He then left the capital city Erenspeth and went to his own people.” Footage showed of Jaigran leaving the council room, ablaze with anger.

“General Jaigran soon became the spokesman and the voice for the elves, impassioning many of the elves about their ancestral heritage and of their great deeds. He even reached out and called upon the orcs also, seeking to unite the two races into one faction. As the elves and orcs were joined to him, he secretly worked on his greatest plan of all, the Mothership.” The slide showed a rotating view of the Mothership, a mammoth white air ship. “Five miles long and two miles wide, the making of the ship was a feat in and of itself, much more the fact that it was constructed in only seven years and that it was able to be kept secret from the outside world.”

“Finally,” Astrid said. “General Jaigran came once more to the Council. Coming to us, he demanded that the Council should be governed by one ruler over them, and that that member should be him.” Footage showed of the scene. “Of course, we denied him the power. Angry, he threatened us, and told us that we would regret this day for the rest of our lives if we did not relent. And of course, we refused to give in. And then he unleashed his final plan.” Footage showed of him yelling, and of armed elves bursting into the room. “Having previously overwhelmed the guards, the attack party took us by surprise and held us hostage. Blowing up the wall, a small aircraft came down to carry us off.” Footage continued to be shown of the scene. “And, taking us away, he drove it into the elves’ borders and to the site of their colossal feat, the Mothership.” Footage again showed of the ship.

“Taking us on board, the Mothership took to flight, and, with the elves slew of air vehicles that they had created, unleashed a devastating attack on the capital city, Erenspeth. Erenspeth defenses were outclassed and outmatched and, bombed, the city fell, being utterly devastated and razed to the ground.”

Astrid paused for a moment of reflection as images played on the screen of the smoking remains of the once glorious city of Erenspeth before she continued.. “Having destroyed Erenspeth, the elves then made a massive and quick assault against all the other nations, with the orcs on their side. With the Mothership on their side, the elves were able to destroy all opposing aircraft and made it clear to all who the masters of the skies were. It soon became apparent that it was no longer safe to stay above ground. But by then, it was too late.” Images showed in rapid succession of the different major cities under attack from the air.

“The dwarves managed to escape much of the destruction in their underground cities, but the other races were not so fortunate,” Astrid said. “As we all know, all humans were either destroyed or enslaved to the elves except for those who escaped to the underground tunnels. The goblins likewise were scattered, and no one knows what has become of them. We still believe some to be alive, but if they are, they would be like the Sla’ad, having been devastated and forgotten.” A graphic showed of the map of the world, slowly being overcome by red.

“Having destroyed all opposition, the elves and orcs then took to the sky, finishing the Great Upheaval,” Astrid said. “They soon began to create flying cities and soon it became apparent to all that the elves’ abode was in the skies, just like all the poems and prophesies said. Proclaiming himself emperor, and the elves as the master race, Jaigran thus became the ruler of all Arquenia.” An image showed of the official image of Emperor Jaigran that was perpetuated.

“Except for us,” Astrid said, almost in a whisper. “The ruler of all except for those who have joined the Resistance, the group of dwarves and humans who still seek to win out against Emperor Jaigran and the elves! Today I am now proud to announce that Araelia, the only free human city in the whole world, has now hit the mark of having 200,000 inhabitants!” Cheering erupted throughout the stadium.

Jroldin suddenly shook his head. How did… How had he become so captivated by the presentation? He’d seen it every year and it was so boring and yet… Jroldin scratched his head.

Astrid waited until the cheering to die down. “And now, as my last words before the Remembrance ceremony ends,” Astrid said. “I would like to recite the words of Xavier’s prophesy. Although my team believed ourselves to be the team, it has become obvious that a greater threat than the Sla’ad has come.” Astrid closed her eyes as curtains moved across the slide. And then she spoke.

“The wars go by the kingdoms fade and new kingdoms will come.
New nations rise new earthly powers and yet the world endures.
But yet a greater threat than any that have come before.
A greater threat now rises yet and still will break the shore.
Its power grows the kingdoms fade and all becomes entrapped.
The greatness of the nations will all be ascribed to it.

But yet a hope still stands!
But yet a hope still stands!

A team will rise out of the dust and out the ashes sure.
A member one from every race will bring it to a close.
And when it’s fruition is met it will go out for sure
To smite the power that has come to take away its peace
The power that is above and beyond all that lives and breathes
A power that yet threatens to destroy the earth with fire.

But now a hope doth rise!
But now a hope doth rise!”


Jroldin leaned closer to hear the words better in time for when Xavier messed up. All the lines had a clear beat and rhythm except for one, about which there was a slew of debate about. Jroldin’s personal opinion was that Xavier was no true prophet, just a rambling old man, and that here he had showed his fallibility in messing up his poem.

“A human named Astrid and an elf with ambition.
A Sla’ad will lead the group
An orc will help elf and goblin will show great expertise.
A dwarf who has a sign upon his head for his fixed place.
The seven will be unified in purpose and in mind

But yet a hope secures!
But yet a hope secures!


Jroldin smirked. Another place where Xavier had messed up. He had counted seven members when there had only been six. Jroldin was sure that there was a lot of attempts by scholars to try to make up for that fact. Weak attempts to try to explain an obviously failed prophesy.

“A healer for the party and one who bears Old Weapons.
A warrior seeks to lead and yet it won’t be granted him.
One will betray his friends and another will lose them all!
An outlaw yet by birth and one who saw a slaughter great.
These qualities they all must have if they will seek success.

And now a hope will rise!
And now a hope will rise!”


Silence fell upon the group as Astrid finished reciting the prophesy. Jroldin yawned. Finally. The Remembrance Ceremony was over and now he would finally be able to leave and wouldn’t have to return for at least a year… hopefully more than that.

But Astrid wasn’t finished. “Thus the words of Xavier’s prophesy,” she said. She fell silent for a couple moments before speaking. “It has now been one hundred and fourteen years since the Great Upheaval and four hundred and eighty nine days since Xavier first recited the prophesy.” Jroldin’s ears perked up. This was new. And it was an unwritten rule of the Remembrance Session that everything had to be exactly the same year after year.

“The elves have been authority for so long, and we have no powers to stop them,” Astrid said, her voice ringing out over the auditorium. The curtains behind her rolled back to reveal footage of the Mothership, of the floating cities, of the elves airship fleet, and upon elves in military attire. “They have taken the skies and now rule them with an iron fist! It has become clear to all that no earthly weapons can stop them!” Jroldin cocked his head. It was clear to all? Maybe most humans who still trusted in prophesy and the Old Weapons, but definitely not for most all the dwarves.

“But we have no need to fight with earthly weapons alone!” Astrid called out. “Not when we have Xavier’s prophesy on our side! The time past should suffice us to have stayed hidden and to do nothing! The time has now come for us to take action! The time has come for us to call into affect a new team, one appointed by Xavier’s prophesy, to go and take back that which has been lost to us by the elves!”

“This day I pledge unto you that we shall not remain in hiding waiting for the elves to exterminate us! Our hope for victory against the elves is found in the words of Xavier’s prophesy! We will not rest, we will not truly rest, until we will find the candidate for Xavier’s prophesy to go back and win back that which the elves have so unjustly taken from us! And that team, armed with the prophesy, shall give this land a new birth of freedom, that peace may rule the land and that we shall not be in hiding anymore! The change and the resurrection movement starts now, for freedom, and by Xavier’s prophesy!”

And the crowd erupted in mad jubilation.

Question of the Week:Do you believe in the prophesy? What do you think about it?

There's actually a funny story about this part. I had written most of this part here when I was stuck in one of my stories one day so just wrote a random page and a half about something completely different, just off the seat of my pants. This was way before I started the Arquenia Saga. When thinking about what I wanted to do with this part, I realized that the thing I had written previously would work great, as long as I added to it some and changed it to fit into the setting. And so, here Part III is...

Part III: Zarien

Date: Amanela 2nd, 114 A.U.

Four minutes. The captain had handed him the time bomb that he was supposed to plant in part of the most advanced, most guarded, and most infamous air ship in the whole world and he had only been given three minutes to get in, plant the bomb, and get out.

Make that three minutes and fifty five seconds.

Zarien mopped the sweat off his brow and then quickly dived into the air pipe. The air pipes were the way that they had finally figured out how to get through to sabotage the Western 4th Command Center. The prep crew had somehow managed to cycle out the robots that roamed the air pipes looking for intruders for, coincidentally, another four minutes. Zarien clambered down the pipe, activating the sticky gloves for the hundred foot drop into the lowest levels. Zarien took a couple turns before he came to it. The great pit, as the prep crew had jokingly called it. The shaft that would get Zarien down to the bottom level of the Mothership without having to go anymore advanced forms of security. Zarien took a deep breath and with a yell, jumped down, counting as he fell.

"One...two...three...."

As soon as Zarien counted to the number six, he stuck his hands out. The sticky gloves attached to the metal duct and Zarien jarred to a stop, his arms feeling as if they'd break because of the stop. If he had been any race other than being an elf, Zarien was sure he would have broken one of his arms, if not worse. Zarien took a couple deep breaths, and then dropped the remaining ten feet to the bottom.

Landing lightly on his legs, Zarien crawled through a couple more feet of air pipes to come to a ventilator. Quickly cutting it with a rare corsha knife, he clambered into the room and checked the time on the time bomb. Two minutes and forty five seconds. He hadn't done it fast enough. He had done demos and prep for this before. And he needed to get through the air shafts in a minute to have enough time to do everything.

Oh well. Guess there's no escape this time.

Zarien burst out of the room into the hallway, gun in hand. From prep and demos, he knew right where the guard would be. Before he could even see the guard he shot, twice, one hitting the guard, the other hitting the video camera. They were both inactive by the time he could see them.

Zarien ran down the hall and then burst through a door into the computer room. The room was huge, almost too huge for being only one of the twenty power rooms that was used to power the west side of the Mothership. A blast in here would desolate this part of the airship. And then the rebels would be able to continue their plan.

Zarien threw the time bomb like a frisbee to have it hit a computer and then slide to the floor. The time bomb had been made tough. Zarien watched it land, and then fled the room. He had seen the time before he had thrown it. He had two and a half minutes remaining. Because once the bomb exploded, everyone in the near vicinity was probably going to die.

Zarien dashed down the hall toward the door to the ventilator, when suddenly, two armed elves dashed around the corner to meet him. Zarien's mouth dropped open. This was never part of the arrangement. All of the elves were supposed to be asleep after the wild chaotic celebration of Victory Day! There weren’t supposed to be any extra guards running around down here!

Zarien threw himself to the ground, firing his gun. Gunfire sprayed where he had just been. Two shots and the armed elves were down. Zarien picked himself up and dashed into the room, throwing himself into the shaft and clunking his head.

Ignoring the pain, Zarien scurried to the main shaft and looked up. it was a long way up. Zarien leapt up, using the sticky hands to clamber up the wall. Zarien was going to die if he did it the normal way. He had to take risks. Zarien didn't wait for one hand to properly attach before he moved himself forward, hanging by one hand at a time and ignoring the sticky pads on his feet. Using them would take too long.

Ignoring the tense pain of his arms, Zarien moved up the shaft. One of his hands slipped and he barely held on. He continued on, making good time. His mind raced. This was faster than he’d ever been in the practice simulations. Maybe he’d actually be able to get out of here alive!

Suddenly, Zarien heard a whirring sound above him and looked up to see a dark shape descending. Zarien opened his mouth slightly and then gave out a loud yell of indignation. The prep team had promised to divert all the robots! They said they’d been positive that the orcs wouldn’t be able to discover it in enough time to catch him! Gritting his teeth, he scurried up, trying to get to the exit pipe before the robot. He was getting closer… closer…

Zarien threw himself into the exit pipe just as a mechanical arm of the robot grabbed his angle. Zarien gave a yell and jerked back, grabbing the corsha knife. Slicing through the robot’s arm, Zarien threw himself further back into the tunnel when he heard a muffled sound behind him. And then a cosmic wave smashed into him.

Question of the Week:
(Disclaimer: I am not in any way promising this to be every week, but it should be pretty regular. The question may or may not refer to the part of the story that I just wrote, or to the story at all.) Out of curiosity, how many people are currently reading this serial?

Today I get to introduce my first female character into the story... and my first human character... To help escape confusion that could come up, this Astrid is NOT the Astrid that was mentioned in the prologue; that was a different Astrid... confusing to have two Astrids in the story, especially when they both are major/semi-major characters--yes, I know. But I have my reasons for it (good reasons too!) So please don't get too confused... If you do get too confused, comment about it and I'll see if I can make it less confusing.

Part II: Astrid

Date: Amanela 1st, 114 A.U

“A corsha miner has been injured in mining district D7,” the loudspeakers announced. “Help is requested immediately.” Astrid muttered something under her breath as she moved toward the ambulance. She hoped it was a quick and easy fix; this was going to make her miss the annual Remembrance Ceremony.

Getting in the ambulance, she nodded to her co-worker, which had gotten in the driver’s seat. “Let’s make this snappy,” Astrid said. “Ok?”

“I’ll do my best,” the man said as he drove the ambulance out from the hospital parking lot. The hangar doors opened, and the ambulance moved out.

Lights shone down from the lights in the Great Cavern as the ambulance made its way down the street toward mining district D7. The ambulance made its way through the streets for ten minutes, sirens blaring, before it turned down into a tunnel that connected the Great Cavern to the Dyorvak Cavern.

Astrid tapped her fingers impatiently against the door of the ambulance as she watched the lights fly by on the tunnel ceiling. The ambulance was one of the more higher-tech vehicles in the city of Araelia, using the best hovering technology available. Astrid always had secretly wanted to be able to sometime get outside with one of these hovering vehicles to see how far they would be able to get off the ground, but, of course, it was too dangerous.

The vehicle pulled into a large cavern, though it was smaller than the Great Cavern. The ambulance moved around the outer side of the cavern and started passing tunnels to different mining sections. D4, D5, D6…

“D7! Turn left here!” Astrid said.

“I know what I’m doing,” the man said. “Relax, Astrid…” The ambulance pulled in through the tunnel until it emerged in a much smaller cavern than the others. There were some low buildings near the entrance to the cavern. Half of the cavern was empty, small corsha remains scattered throughout the area. The other half was full of corsha stalagmites and stalactites growing up and down out of the ground.

The ambulance came to a halt a couple yards away from the nearest corsha stalagmite, and Astrid jumped out, carrying her medical kit with her. Weaving her way through the corsha outcroppings, she looked for a wounded miner, staying as far away from the corsha as possible. The corsha glowed, bringing light to this cavern. It was the burning corsha metal that slowly grew in certain caverns, that was used for all the weapons, not including guns. The burning corsha could slice through most substances, one of the exceptions being itself, once it had expired and merely become a normal metal that didn’t burn at all. Astrid knew more about corsha than she wanted to. Too many miners got hurt by an accident with it. And with corsha, any accident was a bad accident.

Astrid heard a cry and ran over to a miner, propped up on the ground, two of his buddies next to him. “What’s the matter?” Astrid asked, running over to see the miner.

“Was mining…” the miner said through gritted teeth. “I slipped, and the corsha cut my leg…”

Astrid knelt down and examined his leg. The miner had a three inch wide gash that began right below his knee and ran down his leg. The miner and his two friends seemed to have been trying to stop the blood, but there was still blood flowing.

Astrid opened her medical kit and got out a strip of gauze, and carefully laid it and then began to press it against the wound. “Hold it there, please,” she said to one of the miner’s two friends, and then rummaged through the medical kit. Getting out her supplies, she waited for the gauze pad to take effect before taking it off. The cut had stopped bleeding so Astrid examined it more. The wound was deepest and most open in the middle. It was going to need stitches.

“This might sting some,” Astrid said, as she opened a bottle. “I’m going to be using this to clean off the wound first. I’m going to have to put some stitches in for the wound.” She dripped some of the liquid on a washcloth and then slowly ran it around the wound.

Astrid turned to see the ambulance driver beside her. “Michael!’ she said, reading his name tag. “Go get me the supplies for putting in stitches!” Michael ran off, and Astrid picked up a bottle. She took some out of it and prepared a shot.

“I’m going to be giving you a shot close to the gash to numb up the wound for the stitches,” Astrid said mechanically and she gave him the shot as Michael came back with the kit that she needed.

Astrid waited some for the shot to take affect, and then drew a slightly thicker needle from her pack. “Now here’s the part where I’d rather you didn’t look at the wound,” she said. “I’m going to be running the needle around the wound and I need to know if you can still feel pain, or if the shot has taken effect. If you feel any pain, tell me.” The man looked away and Astrid began slowly running the needle around the edges of the wound.

“Ow, that was painful,” the miner said.

“Ok…” Astrid said, continuing to run the needle around the wound.

“That was slightly painful…” the miner said. “This is fine… slightly more painful… very painful..”

“Ok,” Astrid said and withdrew the needle, waiting dome more to let the shot take more effect.

“I’m going to try that again,” Astrid said after a few minutes, and redid it. This time the miner said anything. “Ok; good,” Astrid said. “We’re now going to do the stitches. You can watch if you want, but if you feel any queasiness or nervousness, I’d rather you stopped. The last thing we want is for you to faint here.” Astrid turned to Michael, who handed her a curved metal needle that was attached to a thick thread. Taking a deep breath, Astrid pinched the skin together with her hand and began to thread the thread through the wound.



Astrid slammed the door shut and withdrew her breath as Michael got into the ambulance. “Whew! Glad that’s over!” she said, and looked at the time. It was 12:45. The ceremony would be starting in 15 minutes. “Try to get to the hospital as quick as possible. I don’t want to miss much of the ceremony.”

And we move along to Part I!  I'm going to be beginning to introduce some of the main characters over these next couple parts, so we'll be meeting new characters for each of the next four parts before we start to add more to the existing characters.  And we'll begin with Flek, the goblin.

Part I: Flek
Date: Amanela 1st, 114 A.U.

“Sardu. Morben. Sardu. Morben.” The chanting ran throughout the trees of the Great Forest.

“Behold! The Mother Tree!” the priest shouted, his voice rising in the air. “All bow down to Her Greatness that has protected us from the elves on high!”

“Sardu! Morben!” the crowd cried.

“To the Mother Tree we now bear reverence! Let the sacrifices come forth!” the priest cried.

“Shut it off…” Freglak groaned.

“But, but you promised-“ the goblin said.

“I said turn it off!” Freglak yelled, and the goblin turned off the TV, ending the chanting of the goblins.

“Good riddance,” Freglak said, and wiped his hand across his face. He glared at the goblin. “Not a word to the High Priest about this!”

“Yes sir!” the goblin said timidly.

“You may go now,” Freglak growled, and the goblin left. Lord Freglak, lord of the goblins, had long ago lost faith in the Mother Tree, which was only a huge long-lived tree. He had finally convinced the High Priest to let him skip the annual Celebration of the Mother Tree in exchange for watching it on TV, but had grown sick of the murderous mayhem already. Lord Freglak swore under his breath, and then stood up, crossing his arms. He uncrossed them to push a button to open up the sound system.

“Flek!” Freglak yelled. “Get in here!” He stopped pressing the button, and sat down in his couch, slouching, and he began to file his fingernails.
Flek burst into the room. “Lord Freglak!” he said bowing. “I am here at your command!” Flek was an average height for a goblin. His great cunning and thinking on the fly, had brought him up through the ranks of the army until he was now in a position so great that he could have become the general of the whole goblin army if he wanted. As it was, Flek had no need of that position and instead was a goblin warrior independent of the army and commanded only by Freglak.

“Listen up,” Freglak said. “All the rest of the goblins are off bowing and giving homage to some stupid tree that they think will save them from the elves. Sickening homage it is. But that is beside the point. All the priests are off adoring the Mother Tree. They wouldn’t notice if we sent off a team of goblins armed with guns to go off on Operation Capture.”

“Yes sir!” Flek said. “I’ll lead off the team right away!” He made, as if to leave, and then turned. “I assume that you have nothing against my using the corsha weapons to accomplish the mission?”

“Of course not,” Freglak said. “Just because I’m not an Old-Weapon-only activist like those stupid priests doesn’t mean that I’m for guns-only. Go ahead and use your weapons and get this mission done already!”

“Yes sir!” Flek said and he scampered off. Flek had long gotten used to Freglak’s personality and his hidden hatred for the priests and their outrageous customs. Flek didn’t care at all for the Mother Tree, but he’d bow down to it or whatever would most advance his position.

Flek got in the elevator and punched the button to go down to the garage. The doors opened, and he ran out, to meet the rest of the team waiting for him. There were ten in the party in all, not including Flek. Flek walked past them, high fiving some and exchanging quick comments with others.

“Reklen, my man! You’re looking alert today!” “Kailen! Glad to know that you recovered from your sickness in time!” “Cornun! Let’s look a bit more upbeat shall we!” Flek paused at the end of the line and clapped his hands together. “All right! Let’s get started on Operation Capture, shall we? Kailen! What were the latest coordinates for the elf ship?”

“The ship was last tracked at B14 N20,” Kailen said. “In other words, when I last checked ten minutes ago, at the current speed it should be past the Great Forest in around an hour.”

“Great,” Flek said. “Are the missile teams ready? Everything must be perfect for this play.”

“The missile teams were ready when I last checked,” Cornun said. “They await your signal!”

“Good,” Flek said. “Let’s get loaded into the ship!” Flek tried to pace his breathing as they got into the airship. This was the operation that they had been planning for the past twenty years, the plan they’d been hoping for ever since the Great Upheaval. After this mission, the elves would know of their power, and would be confident of that they still existed. The dense foliage of the Great Forest had kept them safe from the elves from seeing them, and their technology had disabled their radars, but after this, the elves wouldn’t be blinded by it anymore. They would know.

Flek shook his head and then boarded into the ship with his crew. “Get the hatches open and let’s send this thing off! Everyone get in your positions!” He went and strapped himself into his seat along with the eight other warriors, the other two goblins manning the vehicle. Flek felt the vehicle move forward and heard the grinding as the hangar doors opened. The machine began to tilt upwards and Flek closed his eyes. The machine made a humming noise and then there was the sound of an explosion as the machine took off into the air. Flek felt himself pushed back in his seat. It became harder and harder for him to breathe and he felt a burning pain in his chest. Flek gritted his teeth and shifted his head as the machine rose into the air.



The High Priest turned his eyes from the sacrifices to see the airship bursting from the Capitol and quickly rising into the air. His eyes narrowed. His duty was with the Mother Tree now, but afterwards… Freglak would have to answer to him about this.