Part XC: Plans in Motion

Date: Kornun 30th, 114 A.U.

Arzjlan slouched against the tree, wondering why they still had to keep watch for the elven airships.  He hadn’t seen any in all the times that he’d been on watch, and he’d been on a watch many time for their tribe of Sla’ad.  Nevertheless, it was his duty, and it was a duty that he had sworn to fulfill. 

Straightening up, Azjlan looked through the night vision goggles at the sky around and still saw nothing, before looking around at the hills around.  Ever since the elves had taken control and few dared to walk in open ground, without anyone to hunt them, the wild beasts had grown more and more numerous and spread out, no longer confined to the places where they could best hide from them.  That, in Azjlan’s mind, was what he most was to look out for: wild animals that could tear their camp to shreds.  There had been quite a few times that he’d had to fend against them.

Azjlan turned again to gaze out at the night sky, running his gaze across the sky but still saw nothing. 

Ten elves slowly slid down on ropes, guns in their teeth as they silently exited from the silent airship.  According to the radar, there was one person outside the camp, on one of the hills around it.  But he still had not seen them.  Moving silently, they moved forward toward the tree where they had finally deduced that he was.  For a sentry—if that was what he was, which most of the leaders had assumed—he had forgotten the most obvious rule.  Never turn your back to one side.  Once this Sla’ad was incapacitated, they would have free rein to drop their elves all around the other side of the camp and surround it before coming in.

Azjlan rubbed his head as he looked back up at the sky before looking at his watch.  His watch should be over soon.  It probably wouldn’t hurt to go back and see where his replacement was.  Straightening up he moved beside the tree and by chance looked back.  And Azjlan screamed.


Moving down the hill as fast as he could, Azjlan heard the shots firing behind him, feeling many of them bounce off his elusive flesh.  Even the fact that the gun shots couldn’t hurt him seeing as he was a Sla’ad didn’t make Azjlan feel any better.  He had failed his tribe.  At a most crucial time.

"Attack!  Attack!  We’re under attack!” Azjlan roared as he rushed forward.  “We’re under attack!  Get to your arms!”  Sla’ad started bursting out of the tent as Azjlan moved forward, watching with his night vision goggles as all around the outskirts of the camp, elves slid down on their zip lines.  How could he have failed his people at such a crucial time?

Azjlan quickly joined the others, having left the elves behind for a moment as he turned toward them.  “They’re surrounding us on our sides!” he said.  “I beg your pardon—I failed-”

“None of that right now,” their leader, Zavarja roared.  “Get all of the women and children behind us, Hzavlar.  We can’t be compassed about on our sides.  We will take down the elves from this side and then form a battalion to guard those behind.”

Azjlan turned around to see the elves coming down the hill, guns firing, as Hzavlar ran back to gather the rest of the people.  Azjlan began to feel his spirits again moving upward.  If the elves thought that the gun bullets would hurt them, they would be woefully unprepared for the revelation that gun bullets had no impact on Sla’ad.  And after their Emperor had marked the corsha weapons as ancient and outdated, there would be no chance of them having the one weapon that could hurt them.  Azjlan drew out his corsha rezquiert as the elves rushed upon them, the Sla’ad drawing their weapons to repel these foolish elves.

Suddenly, the elves twisted and turned, pulling glowing daggers out of their pouches as they suddenly hurled themselves upon them with a new vigor.  Azjlan gave a cry as many surprised Sla’ad were instantly cut down, not expecting the elves to have corsha weapons on them.  Swinging his rezquiert, Azjlan slashed the face of one the elves as the elf stumbled backwards as several Sla’ad behind him drew their guns.

Guns fired, but before they could meet their target, an orc behind the elves sent them flinging aside with his lightning bolts.  No, no, no.  Azjlan hurled himself forward, swinging his rezquiert around like a mad man.  There was a sudden blow to his head.  And, seeing stars, Azjlan fell back into darkness.


“I just got a message back from our commander,” the Watcher said.  “Our forces quickly surprised and overcame the Sla’ad with an elaborate feint of pretended ignorance.  They captured two of the Sla’ad for you to question—an older Sla’ad who was part of the defense forces at the capital city, and a younger Sla’ad, who may be a useful tool to get the older Sla’ad to succumb to our methods of re-education.”

“Very good,” Emperor Jaigran said.  “Perhaps they would also know about the Sla’ad who stalks me.”

The Watcher bristled.  “You are mad, Jaigran, if you still believe in a Sla’ad that stalks you.”

"I am not mad!” Jaigran snapped.  “I have seen him lurking in the shadows, never leaving them for fear of being seen, but merely waiting and biding his time.  I nearly died once before finding you.  I will not let him get at me again.”

"You have mixed nightmare with reality,” the Watcher retorted.  “For such a brilliant mind to have conceived the Great Upheaval, you already appear to be falling to the paranoia that have haunted so many a great ruler.  It is such paranoia that have caused their downfall.”

“I will not fall for this,” Jaigran snapped, glaring at his ally.  “I am following by your principles: namely, to leave nothing loose and to assume nothing about the enemy. I will not be defeated by some cheap assassination.  We will question the Sla’ad about many things once they’ve been re-educated.  Teach them all the things you want.  But I will ask them my questions.”

“Very well.”

Question of the Day: What are your thoughts on the Sla'ad whom Jaigran thinks is stalking him?

Pts!  Warbaron: 17, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

Part LXXXIX: Departure

Date: Kornun 27^th, 114 A.U.

Reynyagn left the rest of the Xavier Team, finishing up their packing, and ran across the field, his shadowy form moving fluidly through the landscape until he came to his old tent and slipped in.  His wife came up to meet him, gazing at him with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Reynyagn whispered, embracing her.  “It seems wrong that after being gone for so long, at a time when you counted me dead, that I should return for such a short time, only to leave again.”

“You must,” his wife replied, biting back her visible tears.  “What comfort would it be to me if you rejected our cause of taking down the Emperor in order to stay with me?  Our children need a better future.  You are doing an honorable thing, Reynyagn, one you were trained your whole life to be able to accomplish.  All of your achievements have led you up to this task.  How can I stand in the way of you accomplishing this purpose?  Go, and may the blessing of the Great One be with you.”

“I love you too,” Reynyagn replied.  “And as soon as our victory is won, I’ll come back to get you.”

“I know,” she replied.  “And I will keep waiting until that day comes, Reynyagn.  Until death do us part.”

           

“Well,” Tzjearjlan said.  “I regret that we could not welcome you here longer—I would have been intrigued to hear more of your mysterious kind that has been kept hidden for so many centuries—but I suppose that it is your duty to carry on and figure out how you can stop the Emperor and his army of elves.”

“Yes,” Augger said.  “I believe that when it’s all said and done, that many will be looking for more information about us, as I can scarcely feign that we would still be kept hidden when the war is over.  I hope to try to return to the chief city of the auggers, whose location I have found in my memories, and try to make restitution there for what my ancestor did.  And then with all the augger-slayers gone, mayhaps we may again come out into the open.”

 “I hope so as well,” Tzjearjlan said.  “Though to tell you the truth, I expect your experience will be one similar to many here.  We have all suffered harm at the hands of the elves.  Yours won’t be the only group coming out of isolation, though you have experienced it more than the rest of us.”

“Aye,” Augger said.  “Did Brother Tomas give you the spare radio to communicate with us?”

“He did indeed,” Tzjearjlan said.  “We’ll notify you as soon as we’ve collected all the blueprints of the Mothership into one master document.  And always know that if you ever need us, we have the resources to lend you not only our men for war, but also to try to lead the other wandering Sla’ad tribes into sending men to join you in making war on the elves.”

“I thank you for your support,” Augger said.  “I know not what our plans will be once we have found the Arglem and once we have the blueprint of the Mothership, but we’ll have a lot more than we started with.  And perhaps by working together with the goblins and the Resistance, we will be able to come up with a plan.”

“I hope so as well,” Tzjearjlan said.  “Fare ye well with your travelings.”

“And with yours.”

 

Reynyagn shut the door on the luggage hold before stepping back to look at the ship that they had prepared, which the Sla’ad had graciously donated them to be able to quicken their return to the assigned meeting place to meet up with the rest of the team.  The Sla’ad had given them all the information they had on the Arglem and where it might be found, enough to at least guide them in a vague direction of where the Arglem might be.  Reynyagn hoped that the rest of the team had been able to gather the rest of the information they’d need to find it.  And with a deft nod, he moved to the cockpit where the others were ready.

The Sla’ad waved them off as they went, moving upwards into the air before they leveled out to cruise over the plains.  And with that Reynyagn breathed out a pent-up sigh.  They had accomplished their purpose for their leg of the journey.  Their part of this mission was over.

“Well,” Augger said, obviously feeling the same feelings as Reynyagn.  “That trip went well.”

“Yes,” Brother Tomas said.  “Not only do we have as much information as we could get, although I suspect we all would have wanted more, but in a few months, they ought to have as close to a complete blueprint of the Mothership done, which would unarguably aid us in defeating them if events so transpire.”

“Yeah…” said Jroldin, generally agreeing with everyone else there.  “Now to put the information we have into action.”

"Yes,” Brother Tomas said.  “And may the blessing of the Great one be upon us."

Question of the Day:

Posting this a day late after working all day yesterday for the Romney campaign and then staying up until 1:00 to watch election results...  Many apologies for the lateness...

Part LXXXVIII: Awakening

Date: Kornun 21st, 114 A.U.

The sun was shining directly into his face when Zarien woke up, finding himself no longer in a darkened room, but in blinding light.  Startled, and expecting to find himself in the Mothership, Zarien turned around as he realized his lack of any real bonds apart from the seat belt to find himself in a small airship that looked like an escape pod.  There were two elves—one with wings, in the front row of the ship.  And Cortna, asleep, was sitting across the small two-foot aisle from him.

"Cortna!”  Zarien said, moving to undo the seat belt that loosely held him in.

“Stop.”  One of the two elves in the front turned back to look at him, alarm in her eyes.

“Hey!” Zarien said, staring at her.  “You were that elf that were at the Citadel-”

"Yes, I’m Sereth—the one that you mistook for my twin sister,” the elf said curtly. “And before you continue-”

“But I haven’t seen Cortna for such a long time,” Zarien said, undoing his seat belt.  “I-”

“Stop,” Sereth snapped, and Zarien noticed a tinge of pain in her eyes.  “That’s why you have to stop and listen,” she said in a quieter voice.  “Cortna…  she isn’t like she used to be, Zarien.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…  I don’t know how you used to know each other,” Sereth said.  “Although since you’re part of the Xavier Team, I would assume that you met her in the resistance group she was a part of, but…  She got captured, Zarien.”

“I know,” Zarien said.  “I thought she was dead—but she’s still alive, and-”

“The Emperor indoctrinated her, Zarien.”

Zarien’s blood ran cold.  “What?!”

“The Emperor broke her in order to gain all the secrets he could from her before forcing her into submission,” Sereth whispered, one tear running down her cheek.  “She won’t recognize you, Zarien.  She is a devout Imperialist, although she doesn’t know exactly what Hazael and I are doing.  She’s barely alive, almost like a robot in how she conducts herself…  She’s broken, Zarien.  She’s broken.”

The escape pod slowly pulled into the port of the relatively small ship, workmen guiding it in and making sure it was secure before the door opened and the inhabitants came out.  With some quick words to the workers, the group continued inside, Sereth holding Cortna tightly, Zarien trailing behind, not exactly sure about what to do, as they walked in.

“I’m going to take Cortna to her room so that we don’t have to mask our words while talking to the leader,” Sereth said.  “You two can go on ahead; Hazael, you can introduce Zarien to him, and I’ll return soon.”

“Let me help with Cortna,” Zarien quickly volunteered.  “I-”

“You will do no such thing,” Sereth snapped, whirling around to face him.  “She is my sister and you have no right upon her.”

Zarien opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t get the words out.  How was he to explain how deep his relationship with Cortna had been, or what it might have been?

“I have no sister,” Cortna emotionlessly muttered as Sereth prodded her along down the hall.

“Let’s go…” Hazael said quietly, and after a moment’s hesitation, Zarien followed.

Zarien hadn’t been expecting the leader of the elven resistance group to bow to him the moment they met.

“But of course it is my duty,” the leader, an elf named Rezja responded as he straightened up.  “After all, as a member of the Xavier Team, you are one of the seven leaders in our effort to overthrow the elven anarchy.  We’ve been tracking you for some time though we haven’t managed to make contact with you yet.”

“I see…” Zarien said, and then he suddenly jerked up.  “You’ve been tracking us?!”

“Over your radios,” Rezja said.  “Don’t be alarmed.  We have limited access into the elven central system, but we’ve intercepted the waves enough so that they think they’ve already analyzed their content when they haven’t.  The elves have a greatly sophisticated tracking system for radio waves.  You were lucky to get caught by us.”

“I see…” Zarien said again, pondering this for a minute before looking back up.  “So how many men are part of your group.”

            “Well, our number is embarrassingly few,” Rezja said.  “There are less than a hundred men and we only have a handful of bases around the elven ships.  Still, we’re working on it, and given that we only started a year ago, we feel like we’ve made much progress.”

“I assume the elves think this airship is one of their own?” Zarien asked.

“It’s in their computer systems as some exploratory ship or whatever,” Rezja said.

“Was our group in contact with yours?” Zarien asked, narrowing his gaze.

“At the time that your group was in operation, we were still working on making this ship and giving it the right specifications to escape the elves’ notice,” Rezja said.  “It was a month or so after your group met its final demise that we began looking for contacts in other places.”

“I see…” Zarien said, repeating the phrase for the third time that meeting as Sereth entered the room. 

“So, why are you here?” Rezja asked.

“I’ll speak for him,” Sereth interrupted.  “We were watching their mission to rescue Hagion.  They found and rescued Hagion, but Zarien here got captured.  He was on route to the Mothership when we broke him out of his prison.  We haven’t been able to pick up any communication from the rest of the Xavier Team, and so we brought him here.”

“And what do you plan to do here?” Rezja asked.

“Figure out how to get back with the rest of my team, before they plan some big search and rescue mission to find me,” Zarien said.  “Can we contact them?”

“Unfortunately, not,” Rezja said.  “Although our equipment can pick up your signal and make the elves think that they’ve already examined it, our equipment can’t send out a precise-enough signal to communicate with your channels.  It’s a bit complicated to someone non-versed in your field, but basically we can receive anything from a 2.6 to a 3.0 signal, but we can’t narrow down what your signal is enough to know if it’s a 2.718 or a 2.743, and so on.  Our best hope of returning you to them is to wait until they use them again, either to communicate to each other, or with your Resistance base back home, and hopefully they’ll drop a hint to where they are or where they’re going.”

“Shoot,” Zarien said glumly.  “I had left it up to the others to know the precise location of our meeting place is...  So I’m stuck here?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Rezja said.  “Until they can use their long-distance radios…  You’re stuck.”

Question of the Day: What should Zarien do now?

Or not...  I forgot to put it on my list, so I didn't post last Thursday.  I'll do it next THursday then, since I'm a bit behind...

Part LXXXVII: Rebirth of the Mothertree

Kornun 29th, 114 A.U.

"The elves have begun to press stronger on our forces, sir,” the hologram of Major Erklen spoke.  “We have held our ground and are continuing to make progress, but it has become evident by the ships going to and from the elven forces that they have finally begun to bring their own reinforcements to the battle.  As such, our current forces will not do.  We need more reinforcements to continue to fight back the elves effectively.  I now stand to receive my orders, sir.”

“I will gather more goblins and more equipment for you to fight the elves,” Lord-Protector Freglak spoke.  “The elves have finally realized that they are in danger of being defeated by us, but their realization has come too late.  Attack them in one large assault to bring them down before enough reinforcements come.  We will visit a colossal humiliating defeat upon them.  And they will know that their reign of terror is coming to an end over Arquenia.”



“You have heard the tales.  You have believed the rumors.  You have seen the sacrilege that has been committed day after day upon our grounds,” Jaine whispered as he moved in front of the audience, his shoulders hunched, a wild look in his eyes.  “You have seen the blasphemy that has been committed in front of our faces day by day by our Lord, the goblin who would claim the title of Protector for himself.  You have asked—you have questioned your beliefs because the Mothertree slumbers.  You have wondered if power yet resided in the Protector of the goblins.  And I stand before you to  announce that it does.  The Mothertree still liveth and has appeared to be, anointing me to proclaim a new Order of the Mothertree.  The infidels and the hypocrites have been purged and now we stand to bring together a new Order—an Order where we will rise to greatness such as has never been seen before.  The Mothertree has awakened.  And we will rise out of the ashes.

“Do you question my words?  Do you ask for signs?  Do you seek proof, proof that the Mothertree still lives and that she slumbers not?  O ye of little faith, that ye doubt the word of the High Priest, the spokesman of the Mothertree.  Yet has she heard your cries and your pleas.  She accepts your request.  Behold!  The power of the Mothertree!”  There was the whistling of the wind in the air and the branches of the trees swayed back and forth as the small audience looked around, wondering if High Priest Jaine had finally snapped into insanity. 

Suddenly, the branches moved, morphing as they moved together, surrounding Jaine like a halo as they moved around, new shoots growing off of them as the dead branches burst into full bloom, weaving into a wreath as the audience below them gasped in amazement and wonder.

“The Mothertree lives!” High Priest Jaine cried out as the Mothertree stretched out its branches again to its original position.  “She has awakened to restore parts of the old and to awaken a New order!  We live by the rules that we were founded on, but we go forward in a new future and mission that the Mothertree has revealed to us!  As the Spring brings forth new life on the barren tree, so will we reclaim our former glory and more.  The Mothertree has spoken to me and this she has said: ‘From the race of the goblins, I will call forth an order to bring an end to the reign of the elves.  I will restore the former glory of the goblins and by my power will you stand upon the necks of your enemies.’  Thus has the Mothertree spoken!  You have seen your power; now stand in awe and bow your heads.  Proclaim the Mothertree as your own again and spread the news that the Mothertree liveth!”

“Liar!”  There was a hush, as Jaine looked across the crowd, to see who had spoken.

“You lie!”  A goblin stood up, pointing his finger at Jaine.  Jaine knew who he was.  Myrik was a feisty media person who ran a popular show on one of the television networks, and an adamant supporter of Freglak. 

“You have conjured tricks to try to throw a veil over our eyes,” Myrik continued.  “What is this miracle you claim to show us but an illusion—something which never happened but which you made us believe happened.  If the Mothertree is what you claim it is, prove it.  Like you had any possibility of doing so.”

Jaine narrowed his eyes, seething hatred toward Myrik.  Like he could control the Mothertree with the flick of a button.  The blasphemy of Myrik’s claim.  Jaine opened his mouth to speak, but before he could speak, a loud groaning went through the tree and Jaine stepped back. 

Wind passed by the Mothertree and it swayed.  Suddenly, large roots burst up out of the ground.  Myrik gave a scream as the roots suddenly grasped him, lifting him up into the air as he struggled, the roots producing spikes which drove into his flesh, rippling through him as he gasped out an inaudible word.  And then the root doubled down, sinking to the earth as it took Myrik down with him, the earth closing again over them as Myrik disappeared from sight.

Silence fell upon the crowd as they stared at the ground, looking like nothing had happened.  A couple news reporters fled, wishing that they had had the foresight to bring video cameras to capture the incident on tape. 

And then Jaine spoke, speaking in a whisper that the listeners strained their ears to here.  “Behold her power,” Jaine whispered.  “The blasphemer has gotten what he wished for.  The Mothertree has wracked her own vengeance on the goblin that would dare stand against her.  The Mothertree lives and a new Order has risen up to carry her spirit and her power on to victory.  Now go out and spread the word.  Let it ring in the treetops: The Mothertree lives.”

Pts!  Warbaron: 1o, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

In other words: Warbaron continues to dominate.

Part LXXXV: The Birthplace of the Mothership

Date: Kornun 25th, 114 A.U.

Jroldin stepped out of the tent, letting the flap shut behind him.  They had gotten to the valley that the Mothership had been built in late last night and so hadn’t bothered to look at any of it until the next morning.  The place had been deserted for over a century, but no one had bothered to clean up.  Tools were somewhat scattered around, and a lot of the scaffolding was still around.  Jroldin could see the built-out depression where the Mothership had once rested, small towers surrounding the depression where workers had once used the towers to enter into the Mothership.  A century of decay had done its work though, and the place was in a bad need of repair.  Jroldin went over and sat on the edge of the small cliff that formed part of the depression of where the Mothership once rested and started eating the apple he had brought with him from the tent.

A couple minutes later, Brother Tomas joined him, bundling his robe around him as he sat and cast his gaze around the area.  “Well,” he finally said.  “This is it.”

“Yep.”  Jroldin said.  “The birthplace of the very bad.  Maybe we can use it to make a Mothership for us.”

“Probably not,” Brother Tomas reminded him.  “Remember—the elves’ radar would pick up something that bit.”

  “True…” Jroldin said, sighing.  “Oh well…”

"Besides,” Brother Tomas reminded him. “That’s not the way that the Xavier Team is supposed to overwhelm the evil.”

“Right…” Jroldin said.  “But how are we supposed to overwhelm Jaigran?”

“I’ve been doing research on it as much as I can out here, since I brought a lot of books with me,” Brother Tomas said.  “Though I did have to leave a lot of them back north at the volcano that we found Augger since we had to hitchhike over a lot of the mountains after the machine broke down.  But I’ve arrived at certain conclusions.  Not the least of which is that you play an important role.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Jroldin.  From what I could glean from what we still have of Xavier’s prophecies and other such works, the Priest-King plays an important role in the party.  But it appears that most of it has to deal with the aftermath.  The Priest-King seems less important for the Xavier Team to defeat the great evil, but seems to be an integral part of establishing peace once the evil is vanquished. Once Jaigran is defeated, the prophesy would indicate that you will be essential to recreating peace and order once his reign is ended.”

"So what does that have to do with how we defeat him?”

“I don’t think that the prophesies indicate that the cause will be won as a part of some massive battle, Jroldin,” Brother Tomas said. “In other words, although it may happen that way, I think it will involve figuring out exactly how Jaigran plans to bring a greater cataclysm on the world—which the prophecies indicate will happen—and then stopping him in some sort of final showdown.  Our battle won’t be won by the strength of our forces, but by the Great One working through the Xavier Team to accomplish his purposes.”

“I see…” Jroldin said, still not fully believing in the Great One, as heard a voice calling them from behind.  “Well, it appears that it’s time to break up camp.”

“Yes,” Brother Tomas said. “It’s time to explore the birthplace of the Mothership.”

“And this is the central planning building,” a Sla’ad whose name Jroldin didn’t think was even possible to pronounce was saying.  He was standing in front of a very large tower that Jroldin gawked at.

“That building was all for planning?”

“Yes.  From the records it seems to have been the building in charge of this whole operation.  A lot of planning meetings and blueprints being drawn up here to direct the Mothership’s growth,” the Sla’ad said.  “We got most of our maps and blueprints from this place.”

“And they just left a lot of the blueprints out?” Reynyagn asked, incredulously.

“The then-General Jaigran didn’t have much time to waste,” the Sla’ad said.  “From the reports we picked up, the Mothership was behind schedule—as would be expected for an engineering feat like this—and Jaigran didn’t have time to wait to cleanup before he wrought the Great Upheaval.  And once their swift-striking elven fleet had desolated a lot of the world, they didn’t see much point in cleaning up much of their paperwork, having already taken control of basically all the world.  Some of the blueprints were taken as reference to make the floating cities, but the others no one bothered to clean up, leaving a treasure trove for us.”

“I can imagine…” Augger remarked.  “It always is striking how throughout the course of history, people are so easy to assume victory before it is finally wrought.  And how their missed facts always seem to backfire in the end, however long it may take.”

“And it looks like it took us a century, but we still managed it,” Brother Tomas said.  “Many thanks to the Sla’ad here.”

  "Anyways,” the Sla’ad said.  “There’s a large blueprint on the wall you may be interested to see to give you a picture of the massiveness of the Mothership.  It was attached to the wall, so we couldn’t remove it, but we took multiple photographs of it.”

Jroldin stared at the large Mothership blueprint that spanned the wall, a preliminary blueprint that showed some of the most important features of the Mothership.  Five miles long and two miles wide, the Mothership was sketched against the backdrop of one of the elven cities, showing the mind-blowing largeness of the Mothership.  The control room of the Mothership was huge—nearly the size of a building for all the variables in it.  There were massive dorms sketched for the Mothership, along with what looked like to be a giant extendable sword that lowered from the Mothership, but Jroldin wasn’t quite sure if it really was a giant sword.

“This was only a preliminary sketch of the most important features to include,” the Sla’ad was saying.  “So it is by no means an accurate sketch, but it shows a lot of the most important features of the ship.”  There were huge blasters the size of buildings sketched on the ship, along with the resources needed to stock what seemed to be a small city’s size of inhabitants.  And as Jroldin stepped back before the sketch depicting the Mothership in its full majesty ,there was only one thought in his mind.

How are we supposed to stop this thing?

Question of the Day: Well--how are they?  How are they supposed to stop this thing?

Pts!  Warbaron: 7, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

Part LXXXIV: Warning Shots

Date: Kornun 30th, 114 A.U.

"Ah, former Governor Astrid.”  The man whirled around lazily on the chair where he slouched against it, flicking his fingers against the armrest.  “How good it is to see you again.”

“Same to you,” Astrid said coldly, sitting down at a chair opposite him as she flipped open her briefcase, filing through the various papers neatly organized inside.  “Good to know someone is having a relaxing time.”

Iraina laughed, taking off his sunglasses as he looked at Astrid, letting his sunglasses balance on his fingertips.  “And I see that someone still has not given up the feud of the election.  Isn’t that supposed to be over now?  Bi-partisanship and working together to get the job done?”

“Well, when you define bi-partisanship as making sure that your way is the only possible way, I guess so,” Astrid said, pursing her lips, pulling out a stack of papers.  “Here’s my report.”

Iraina took the stapled stack of papers and began to look through them.  “Unless I’m mistaken, we’re really not that different in that area, me and you,” he drawled.  “I mean, from what I heard, you had to do a whole lot of wrangling to get yourself as the official spokesman of the Xavier Team before I took office.  Suureee, that was a really bi-partisan, nice thing to do for the new governor.”

“Yes—well—it was my duty,” Astrid snapped, trying to keep herself from blowing up again at Governor Iraina.

“Yes, and silencing any real attempts of bi-partisanship before it could begin by forcing our competing principles to continue to clash with each other.” Iraina lowered the stack of papers to gaze directly into Astrid’s eyes.  “I believe I got as much of a referendum as we could get that last election.  The voters wanted a change of leadership—new blood to start flowing in the government—a change that you’re not accepting.”

Astrid bristled at Iraina’s attack, wondering why the debate between them had switched between matters of policy to matters of fairness.  “I had started a task with the Xavier Team,” she repeated, almost as if she was still reiterating her talking points of the election.  “And I mean to see it finished.”

“The voters didn’t want you to finish it,” Iraina whispered.  “They wanted me to take control of it, an effort that you are confounding with your refusal to share your duties with anyone else.”

“Yes, well, I think my experience in war is much better than yours,” Astrid said, reassuring herself of her extensive experience working against the elves.

“Oh, we’re not going to go there again,” Iraina said.  Holding up the stack of stapled papers, he moved his arm to the side and dropped them on the floor, listening to the papers flutter and crash against the carpet.  “If you’re not willing to come to a compromise about this issue, this will mean extreme measures.  And I don’t want to go there.”

“Then don’t,” Astrid said.  “You can begin by reading my report on the current progress of the Xavier Team and trying to work with me about how we can guide them to their goal of destroying the Emperor.”

“Oh, so I get to work with you now!” Iraina said.  “So perhaps that means you can give me the means to contact and receive messages from the Xavier Team.  Maybe I can actually put some of my own foreign policy into play!”

“The Senate gave me that job,” Astrid said.  “I can’t just give it to anyone else.”

“Oh yes, the Senate,” Iraina said smoothly.  “The Senate you forced to follow you.  Now I’m looking at the facts, Astrid.  And I’m seeing a different set-up in Senate than when you were governor.  And any act that Senate passes can be revoked.”

A flash of heat went through Astrid.  “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean,” Iraina said, his voice hardening as he lowered his voice again into a whisper.  “Either work—truly work—with me, Astrid.  Let me actually have the ability to get what I want passed, as the voters put me in office to accomplish, or I’ll go public with this.”

“You can’t go public with military affairs!” Astrid snapped.  “There’s a reason these meetings have been behind closed doors.  The next thing you’ll be suggesting is to make all of our espionage efforts public information!”

“I’m not going to share the nitty-gritty details,” Iraina retorted.  “But I will tell them how you refuse to work with me in any meaningful way or to accept my advice.  I’ll bring a proposal to Senate to revoke your status as the Spokesman of the Xavier Team.  And I’ll get the public behind me to make the senators all vote to put me back in control of foreign policy, like you were as Governor.  Isn’t that the Golden Rule?  Do unto others as you would have them do to you?  Something tells me that if you won, you wouldn’t want me butting in your way by being the Spokesman for the Xavier Team and forcing my foreign policy beliefs down your throat.”

“It isn’t like that!” Astrid protested.

“Then work with me and give me access to the Xavier Team!” Iraina demanded.  “Look at my proposal to give more direct orders and suggestions to the Xavier Team and to be in a more constant flow of communication with them.  At least be willing to compromise.  Or else we’re going to have to take this to a further authority to get this settled once and for all.  You already received your referendum on your policies.  Now give up your power.”

“I can’t let you ruin the Xavier Team,” Astrid whispered, her eyes flashing.

“I see.”  Iraina’s eyes narrowed.  “Then you have drawn the battle lines, Astrid.  I have no other solution.  It’s time to take this to the higher authorities.”

Question of the Week: How will Astrid stop Iraina's plan?

Part LXXXIII: Going Rogue

Date: Kornun 20th, 114 A.U.

The two guards were taken out before they even knew what was happening.  The two elves had just walked by when suddenly they had turned on them, one slamming the other hard against the corridor wall, while the other punched him in the solar plexus.  Another hard bang to the head and they both were out.  Hazael quickly fished the keys out of the one man’s pocket and opened the lock.  Sereth ran in, flicking on the lights, as they came to Zarien’s limp body, tied to the chair.

“Quickly.  Not much time have we.” Hazael said.  Sereth quickly fished out her knife and quickly broke Zarien’s bonds, ripping his gag and blindfold off of him.

“He’ll still be unconscious for several hours at least,” Hazael said.  “I’ll take him.”  Lifting him up, Hazael slung Zarien over his shoulder and the two of them dashed out of the room, quickly shutting the door behind him.  Feet tapping down the corridor, they moved down some steps into the small dark room where the escape pod was.  Hazael quickly dumped Zarien in the escape pod next to the sleeping Cortna.

“Get them both buckled into their seats,” Hazael said.  “I’ll get us out.”  They had slipped Cortna some sleeping pills so that she wouldn’t know what was happening.  Her knowing what was going on seemed to always end up in trouble, as she would inevitably try to alert the elves about what we were doing.  Despite their hard work, they still found themselves unable to break through what the elves had done to Cortna’s mind in their re-education chambers.  They had nothing left but hope, a blind hope that had showed itself to be placed in nothing concrete so far.

Sereth moved them into two of the four seats and fastened them up while Hazael moved to a computer in the room, quickly hacking into it to access the main control panel to send energy into the escape pod.  The elves generally locked the escape pod so that only the commander of the ship could activate, so as to deter escapees from easily escaping during it.  Unfortunately for the elves, Hazael’s field of study was in computers, and he had become quite adept at hacking into them ever since he made the choice to finally separate himself from the elves instead of being a spy among them.

“Done,” Hazael finally said as lights in the escape pod went on.  “Let’s go.”  Dashing toward the escape pod, Hazael stepped in and shut the door behind him, sitting down at the control panel and pushing the button to let them out.  The floor began tilting as it opened up underneath them as Hazael pulled some levers as the escape pod dropped.  Pulling the steering wheel, Hazael flicked a switch and jets flamed out behind the escape pod as they propelled themselves through the sky, away from the elven ship.

“There we are,” Hazael said, breathing a sigh of relief.  “And assuming they don’t catch us now and chase us down—which they shouldn’t—we’re home free.”

“Good thing,” Sereth said, stretching her limbs.  “I grew tired of hiding out in that ship long ago.”

“Bringing Cortna didn’t help anything…” Hazael reminded her.

“I know,” Sereth said, sounding a bit exasperated.  “But, I mean…  I don’t know…  I know it isn’t rational or anything, but…”

“I know,” Hazael said quietly.  “But sometimes we must lay aside fears.  Must accept logic.”

“I know…” Sereth said, biting her fingernails.  “But…  I don’t…  I can’t trust anyone…  I don’t know…!”

“Explanation not needed,” Hazael said.  “I know how emotions trump logic.”

“Emotions aren’t trumping logic…” Sereth said.  “It just…  I don’t know…”  She muttered something else but Hazael couldn’t catch it as they continued to move away from the airship.  After ten minutes, when the elven airship was far out of sight, Hazael gave another released breath and pulled a lever to slow the escape pod down.

“Alright,” Sereth said.  “We’re free from the ship.  You want to input the coordinates of the rebel’s ship.”

“Yes…” Hazael said as he began typing in stuff to the small screen.  “What are the current coordinates of the ship right now?”

“I believe it was last right above the previous human capitol…” Sereth said.  “So somewhere around 200, 351.  Once there, we can send out radar and communicate with the rebel ship and cue into it.”

“Sounds good.”  Hazael typed in the coordinates and the ship rotated before rocketing out in another direction as they both relaxed in their seats, the ship moving forward over the ground as it moved toward the place of the ancient human capitol.

“So…” Hazael said.  “How will you break it?”

“Excuse me?”

“How will you break it to Zarien?”

“Oh…  you mean Cortna…”

“Yes.  Did he not think you Cortna last time?”

“Yes…” Sereth said, her cheeks reddening at the scene.  “I…  I hadn’t realized then how close the two of them were…  Hopefully Cortna will still be asleep when Zarien awakes so that the first thing he notices isn’t her, well, her problem.”

“Yes,” Hazael said.  “Do you know where Xavier Team is?”

“Not the rest of them, no,” Sereth moaned.  “If I did, I’d take him to them and not have to deal with what he’s going to say when he hears about Cortna.  But they haven’t used their radios with the other team at all, so I haven’t been able to spy in on them...  Which means we have to take him to the rebel base.”

“That’s bad?”

“Oh, I don’t care what happens to him when at the rebel base,” Sereth said.  “I worry about what his reaction will be when he meets me and remeets Cortna.  I mean…  if he does like Cortna…”

“He’s won’t leave us alone, yes,” Hazael said.  “And you don’t like it.”

“She’s my sister,” Sereth said, a bit defensively.  “And I don’t want his affections to go elsewhere.”

A small smile grew on Hazael’s face.  “I see.  Well.  Go on we must.”

  "Go on we must,” Cortna agreed.  And they flew forward through the sky.

Question of the Day: What will Zarien do/say when he awakes?

My apologies for my tardiness...  You guys don't give much of a competition!  :P  Only one person comments per post, making the pts more competitive, but little competition for the rewards...

Pts!  Pts!  Warbaron: 7, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

Part LXXXII: Home of the Auggers

Date: Kornun 23rd, 114 A.U.

In the center of the ancient meeting place of the Council of Arquenia, there stands a circular stone platform that rises a foot off of the ground.  Above it, the ceiling opens up, creating a hole in the roof the exact shape of the platform and directly above it.  In the center of the stone platform is a blue circle, bearing no significant purpose at first glance.  But in the middle of every day for millennia, an electric blue beam moves across the sea and land, passing over the stone platform in the center of the platform.  For millennia, this passing over the blue dot has marked noonday in Arquenia.  This platform is therefore called the Noon-Marker.  For millennia, the blue beam of light that stretches far up into the heavens beyond has remained steadfast in its faithful marking of noonday.

Until now.

“I call this meeting to order!” the Chief Augger said, standing up.  His name was Grandine and his generation of Auggers had led the people for centuries.  Fifty eight years old, he was already growing weary of his task and looking ahead to when he could pass into the blessed place of the Great One and his next in line would take his place.  But his time would come.  And for now he was to do his task.

“Thank you, Brother Grandine,” another augger said, standing up.  His name was Tragun, the keeper of the Noon-Marker, like his father and his father’s father before him had been.

“I come bearing a report of the strange events concerning the Noon-Marker,” Tragun said.  “As we all know, for millennia, the Noon-Marker has been faithful in keeping the time of noon.  But in the past five months, the Noon-Marker has been wavering.  It appears to follow a ten to fourteen day cycle of its wavering away from the Noon Marker.  Each day, the beam of light moves further and further away from the Noon-Marker, passing through the city as we have noticed in alarm.  Every ten to fourteen days, the beam then seems to reset itself, passing again through the Noon-Marker, before beginning another cycle of moving further and further away.  I have studied its happenings for the past months, and, seeing as the Noon-Marker seems to be broken and this is not a temporary thing, we have called this meeting to discuss its going on.”

“I will speak,” Yarvil spoke. One of the sages among the auggers, Yarvil was one of the few that delved deeply into the vaults of the collective memories of his ancestors. Most auggers didn’t, being warned away once for the many gruesome and horrible scenes and memories contained in the collective memory.  Few auggers braved the reliving of the memories of their fathers and continued to delve deeply into their memory, but those that did so were regarded well among the augger kind.  Those were the sages, and the leaders of the auggers.

“My memories stretch back to the setting of the Noon-Marker,” Yarvil said.  “It was on this island that we were all created and here that the Great One formed the thrones for us, gave us the Seven Golden Corsha Weapons, and appointed the First Watcher to be the guardian and keeper of Arquenia.  It was the First Watcher who set the Noon-Marker to track time, and it is upon this that we have relied on for the millennia.  In the past couple months, I have tried again to contact the Sixth Watcher, but it has been in vain.  As he has been ever since we returned to this island following our near extinction in the mainland, the Watcher did not respond.  As we have concluded time and time before, the Watcher appears to have moved on to another Central place.  And so we can find no help there.”

"This wavering of the Noon-Beam is not a light thing to be taken up,” another augger said.  “For years it has been a constant setting of time for us.  Now, with the wavering of the Noon-Beam, time itself seems to be wavering.  How long will it be before the Noon-Beam must decide to go back to a constant or to veer off the edge?  And with the wavering of the Noon-Beam, time itself must either stay constant or come to a perpetual end.  The Noon-Beam must be fixed and set back to its proper state.”

“It is a thing that only the Watcher can do,” Grandine, the Chief Augger said.  “We had never before in the generations previous have had to orchestrate and run such things as the Noon-Beam.  In the first age, it was the Watcher who ran it and who kept the planet in motion.  With the silence of the Sixth Watcher, such grave events must drive us to make a greater effort to discern where the Sixth Watcher has went and how we might bring the Noon-Beam back into its proper place in time.”

“We have two options then,” another augger said.  “To venture outside our island to the mainland of Arquenia…  or to enter the doorway of the Watcher.”  Silence fell upon the group.

“Venturing to the mainland would be folly,” Grandine finally said.  “From our last reports from our scouts, the elves still have control there, and they would capture us at first sight.  No.  We must stay here outside of their domain.  Which would leave only one option, and one that I am ready to take.  We must enter the doorway of the Watcher.”

“No one has done such a thing since the creation,” Yarvil said.  “It is forbidden to enter that domain which the Watcher alone may walk.”

“Yes, the Watcher said that we must not enter therein,” Grandine said.  “And as the Great One has commanded, we are to submit to those in authority.  But the Watcher has been gone for centuries.  He might be dead.  We must discover what happened to him in order that we might fix the Noon-Beam and align it again to the Noon-Stone.  We must do what no augger or any other race has done before.  We must enter the domain of the Watcher.”

Question of the Day: What will they find in the domain of the Watcher?

Sorry for the lack of a question last time...  I had written a question, but weebly didn't save it before I posted so it wasn't there...  Anyways...

Pts!  Warbaron: 4, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

Part LXXXI: Not Enough Time

Date: Kornun 19th, 114 A.U.

Zarien dashed down the hallway of the apartment building as he hoped he would get to an elevator before the rest of the elves did.  He had barely managed to fend off the elves down the trap door, but by the time they were killed, there wasn’t enough time to board the ship along with the others.  Punching a button, Zarien waited as the elevator ascended to meet him.

The doors opened and Zarien had just enough time to see the orcs in the elevator before he leapt to the side.  Shooting madly, bullets flung into the elevator as a crackle of lightning flew out, almost hitting him.  This wasn’t going to work.  Mind racing, Zarien pulled a grenade out of his belt and pulled the pin, flinging it into the elevator before jumping aside.  One orc tried to escape but it was too late as Zarien shot him down.  A couple seconds later the grenade went off, blowing the elevator and the orcs inside to shreds.  He wouldn’t be able to fight off all the elves that would be downstairs.  He needed to get out another way.

Running at one of the doors, Zarien shot at the lock a couple times before kicking it open.  A dwarf turned to see him and gave a roar of anger as Zarien leapt passed him towards the window.

“Sorry!” Zarien yelled, and twisting to go back-first, threw himself out the window.  Glass pierced his back as he twisted, pointing at one of the buildings and fired the zip-line to bring him over to the building. Airships flew overhead, still focused on the escaping ship of the Xavier Team.  Bother.

"We’re trying to get back around to find you, but I’m not sure how we’re going to do it!” Flek said.  “I just got word from Number 994 and he said he’d be able to meet us at the meeting point.”

“Just forget about me!” Zarien said as momentum carried him forward to a roof of the building he had flew to.  “I’ll just escape my own way and you can pick me up outside the camp when everything’s quiet.  Just get out of here and we’ll meet up later!”

“Alright,” Flek said, and the line went dead.  Leaping off the building, Zarien aimed for the building furthest set apart and closest to the quarries.  He had just enough line to get there and he could escape in the quarries.  Zipping through the air, Zarien watched as the airships still didn’t seem to notice him.  Releasing the line just before impact, Zarien flew over the parapet of the building and onto the top.  And then a wave of electricity flooded his senses and everything blanked out.


“Get up.”  Zarien groggily shook his head as he found himself held up by two strong elves before the presence of an orc.

“Ugh,” Zarien said, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to regain focus.  “What do you want?”

“I am Number 1,314,” the orc said.  “I am in charge of security at the labor camp.  Who are you and why did you come here?”

If only Number 994 had been with him.  Zarien knew that a 994 would easily be able to best a 1,314 in the orcish hierarchy.  “My name is Zarien,” Zarien finally said.  “I’m a member of the Xavier Team.”  The Emperor already knew that the Xavier Team existed, so it shouldn’t be too much of a help to know that they had been here.

The information had its intended effect and Zarien watched the fear flash through Number 1,314’s eyes.  If he just was able to be free, Zarien was sure that he’d be able to overpower them.  Course getting out of this slave camp would be a whole other problem to deal with.

“Why are you here?” Number 1,314 spat.  “According to all reliable history, Emperor Jaigran was part of the Xavier Team, not whoever you think you are.”

“We’re here to overthrow your rule,” Zarien said casually.  “And whether we’re the real Xavier Team or not, we nearly killed your Emperor last Yippah, so if your Emperor is afraid of us, you ought to be too.”

“You lie,” Number 1,314 spat.  “I heard nothing of an assassination attempt on the Emperor.”

“Probably because he’s too embarrassed to admit it,” Zarien retorted.  “Did you hear of the Emperor’s trip to the Citadel of Tzel-Maret?  It almost ended in disaster for your favorite tyrant.”

“I had heard rumors…” Number 1,314 muttered before looking up.  “Very well, elf.  You’ve sealed your own fate then.  We’ll send you in the next transport ship to the Mothership and will send you to Emperor Jaigran to deal with.  Guards, take this elf to the prison cells and guard him well.  I’ll alert the Emperor about this development.”


Zarien was only in the cells for a couple hours before the guards came again to get him. 

“The Emperor wants you delivered to him as fast as we can,” the one guard spat.  “And so it’s off to the Mothership for you.” Zarien glowered at them as they hauled him out of the room and led him toward the transport ship, all the while trying to figure out if he could escape and if not, what he was going to say to Jaigran in order to best preserve the cause of the Xavier Team.  He supposed it was too much to hope that Flek and the others would be able to rescue him.  By the time they realized that they had waited long enough for him to show up at their appointed place, he would be long gone.  A pit began to form in Flek’s stomach.

He was led into a metal garage, a large transport ship waiting and ready for takeoff.  “They’ve put enough guards to keep you secure,” one of the guards sneered.  “And the goblins aren’t going to rescue you like they did your Sla’ad companion.”  Zarien jolted.  Since when had the Emperor connected that the Sla’ad they had captured which the goblins had freed was the same Sla’ad that was part of the Xavier Team?  Or maybe it was just too obvious.

“We’ll see about that,” Zarien spat.  And with that, the guards transferred him to a new set of guards that led him into the transport ship.  He was strapped down in a seat in a dark room in the center of the ship, blindfolded and gagged—as if not having a blindfold or a gag would help him much—and then the door to the cell was shut.  And Zarien heard the rumbles as the transport ship took off into the sky.  There was a hissing noise and Zarien thought he smelled something as his senses gave way.  He realized that it was knockout gas just as he finally lost consciousness.

Question of the Day: What should Zarien say to Jaigran to best preserve the cause of the Xavier Team?