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Author Comment Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 5 (7/11/01 7:15:22 pm) Reply The Story of Gyrfalcon -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My life... how long it has been since I was born. Despite my appearance, I am older, far older, then the people around me. I have watched an elf from infancy to death, and still I remain this age. I am Immortal. I am a demigod. I am Gyrfalcon, the battlemage. Yet, you ask, how did I come to be these things? Very well, then, I will tell you a story. The story of my beginnings, and how I became an archmage… Chapter 1- A Simple, Happy Life "Hey, Gyr!" Gyrfalcon was distracted by the shout, and his head turned slightly towards the speaker. Too late, he turned back to his opponent, and brought his shinai down in an attempt to block the shinai arcing towards his ribs. A touch too slow, Gyrfalcon gasped in pain as the heavy blow landed, the force still heavy enough to leave a bruise through the padded training armor Gyrfalcon was wearing. His opponent stepped back and pulled off the men covering his face. The action revealed the face of his teacher, and his father. "Gyr, you have to be *focused*! You can't let simple noises distract you when you're fighting... unless, of course, it sounds like someone coming up behind you with a knife." He chuckled as he said that, and Gyrfalcon managed a slight chuckle through his embarrassment as well. Gyrfalcon looked at his father, and was still amazed by what he saw. Darek, his father, was 45, with wings of grey at his temples, yet still moved like he was 15 years younger. His eyes sparkled with intelligence, and you could see the experience of his life in them. To Gyrfalcon, he was always warm, but always firm when instructing Gyrfalcon in the way of the sword. Darek was a member of the town militia- indeed, he was the second in command, and he also served as the town's swordmaster, though currently Gyrfalcon was his only apprentice. "Well, I think it is time for us to knock it off. I should go help Shariel with dinner, and I think one of your friends wants to speak with you. Warm up a bit more tomorrow- you were stiff for the first few rounds, and that cost you a few extra hits." With this final piece of advice, Darek gripped Gyrfalcon's shoulder once, then walked over to the equipment rack and began taking off his practice armor. Gyrfalcon joined him and quickly replaced his armor on the rack. He turned and walked towards the gate, where a figure cried out "Hurry it up, will you?" Before turning and jogging away. Gyrfalcon chuckled to himself- Aldric, the boy at the gate, had no sense of patience. Gyrfalcon smiled slightly and broke into a jog, ignoring the pain from the bruises he has gained during the practice. Quickly, Gyrfalcon caught up with Aldric and fell into step beside him. Aldric looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Gyrfalcon stood at 6'2", his shoulders still broadening out to their adult dimensions. Still slender, he was fairly muscular from the near-daily practice sessions he had with his father. His hands were callused from long hours practicing his swordsmanship. His green eyes shone with intelligence and mirth, and he kept his hair cut short, keeping his slightly-pointed ears exposed to the stares of strangers who were not used to, or perhaps not comfortable with, half-elves. Gyrfalcon had learned to ignore their stares and remember the friendship of his few true friends, such as Aldric. Aldric finally spoke as his visual inspection of his friend ended. "So... you leave at the end of the week?" He asked Gyrfalcon. "Yeah, its time I learned a profession, after all." Gyrfalcon replied with a note of humor in his voice. Humans began training halfway through their 16th year. Aldric, for example, was most likely going to apprentice to his uncle, who was owned a store in the village. "But... a ranger?" "What's wrong with being a ranger?" "You could have joined the militia, and stayed close at home. Esmerelda like you..." Gyrfalcon chuckled "Sure she does. She only pretends to get closer to you." "You're avoiding the question." Aldric said, pursuing the earlier subject. "Basically... because I'm more comfortable out in the woodlands." "You and your elven blood!" Aldric said, in jest. "You better believe it!" Gyrfalcon replied with a smile on his face. The two friends parted paths as Aldric turned up the path to his house, and Gyrfalcon continued on to his home for his own dinner. The village was quiet and peaceful… Chapter 2- Hints of the Shadow in Sylvan forest Gyrfalcon waited patiently, eyes scanning the trail for the approaching goblins. This would be the first time in his two years of apprenticeship to the ranger that Gyrfalcon would engage in combat. This would be the first time in Gyrfalcon's young life that he would have to kill something. Nervousness bubbled up within Gyrfalcon, to be pushed back again. Gyrfalcon slowly tightened and released each muscle, both to ward off cramping and to use some of his excess nervous energy. To kill something- could he do it? The goblins were acknowledged as evil, yes, but they were sentient creatures… The time for contemplation was over, for the goblins had appeared, but with them was something altogether unexpected- a drow. Gyrfalcon's blood ran cold as he saw the drow appear at the end of the trail. To face goblins was bad enough, but to face a powerful and skilled drow! Then more goblins appeared, and suddenly Gyrfalcon was more then ready to kill every goblin, to face and slay the drow if he was capable… The goblins carried, bound to a pole, an elf. Or rather, the remains of an elf. He had been tortured, for no better reason then the delight these evil creatures found in his pain and screams of agony. Now, Gyrfalcon knew, his corpse was being carried for another reason- dinner for the goblins. Gyrfalcon's vision turned red, and without a conscious thought, his arm pumped once, twice, then again and again in rapid secession, plucking throwing knives off the belt around his waist. As the five on the left side of his belt flew through the air, Gyrfalcon switched hands and continued to throw from the remaining five on the other side of his belt. Even as bright steel flashed through the air to bury itself in goblin flesh, Gyrfalcon heard the hiss of an arrow screaming through the air. It embedded itself in the eye of the largest goblin, no doubt the leader. The goblins were frozen in shock and surprise as knives and arrows fell among their ranks, claiming life after life. Gyrfalcon noticed the drow dive suddenly, avoiding the arrow meant for his chest. The arrow flew on to claim the life of one of the goblins bearing the pole. Gyrfalcon's hand found only empty leather as he reached for the next knife, and without though he drew his sword from the sheath on his back and leapt from branch he crouched on, screaming his war-cry, the shriek of a gyrfalcon diving on it's prey. The two goblin scouts below him looked up in surprise. It was the last action they would ever take, as Gyrfalcon landed between them and sliced across. One fell with a slashed throat, the other with a deep wound across his chest that had reached to his heart, stilling it forever. Gyrfalcon stalked forward into the middle of the group, to find the goblins all dead. Several had knives sticking from their eyes or throats, and one had died when a knife had made it through its crude hide armor to pierce a lung- drowned in its own blood. However, many more had arrows in them, piercing heads and hearts in equal numbers. Gyrfalcon felt suddenly nauseous at the sight of the death around him, but he forced it down, reminding himself that enemies were in the area, including a deadly drow… Had that thought been a summons? Whatever the reason, as Gyrfalcon remembered the fact the drow still lived, the area around him disappeared. A globe of darkness, one of the many of the abilities of the drow. Another ability was their skill in blind fighting… Even as Gyrfalcon thought this, he heard the slightest sound of grass under boot- the attire of the drow had made him suspect that this one was from the Underdark, used to the shifting heat patterns of infravision in the underground and the stride needed to remain silent on echoing stone, not dry grass… Gyrfalcon thought these thoughts as he threw himself to the side in a roll. He heard the swishing as the drow's deadly blade slashed through the area he was standing, and the continued sound of dry grass crushed under booted foot as the drow followed Gyrfalcon, stabbing again and again in his attempts to slay one of the rangers so that he might deal with the other. Gyrfalcon continued his roll, and luck was with him, in a fashion. Gyrfalcon rolled onto a slope, and rolling as he was, down the slope he went. Picking up speed, he managed to separate from the drow and clear the globe of darkness. As Gyrfalcon struggled to his feet at the bottom of the slope, the drow likewise cleared the globe. Without pause, the drow leapt down at Gyrfalcon, his slender sword leading right for Gyrfalcon's breast. Gyrfalcon had other plans then dying that day, however, and slammed the drow's blade far to the side with his katana as the drow impacted with him. Gyrfalcon shuffled back a step to keep his balance, but for the shorter and lighter drow, the impact was disastrous. He fell back in a stumbled, but recovered by going into a roll again. The roll ended in a sprawl as an arrow slammed into his tumbling body. As the drow tried to get up, a final arrow struck it in the throat. He died instantly. Gyrfalcon looked into the face of his master, the man training him in the arts of being a ranger. He looked at Gyrfalcon coldly for a second, before finally allowing the ice to melt from his eyes. "You were impetuous, Gyrfalcon. While the ambush was a success, if you had allowed more of the enemy get into the kill zone, it would have been easier. As it is, I dealt with the three surviving goblins at the rear." The man, an elf in heritage, sighed and looked at the drow. His features darkened and he looked back to Gyrfalcon, his voice grim. "On the other hand, any closer and the drow might have noticed you hiding in the trees. Goblins are too stupid to look up for concealed enemies. The drow are not. All in all, good work. Now come, let us see what we might learn of our enemy. Drow aren't often sighted with goblins in this area." Gyrfalcon and his master returned to the center of the carnage and quickly looted the elves for signs of allegiance, valuables, and to retrieve their knives and arrows, respectively. Gyrfalcon then headed to the back of the column to search the goblins there. He quickly retrieved the arrows and the few coins the goblins had, then he came upon the corpse of the elf. His eyes had been ripped from his skull, his jaw smashed, his chest cut open and his entrails… Gyrfalcon whirled away and vomited. He knelt there, a string of saliva dangling from his lip, tears in his eyes. No one deserved the fate this hapless elf had found. What sort of demons where these creatures? "Minions of Bel Tie'va." The voice of his master answered from behind him. Gyrfalcon looked back, tears still running down his cheeks as his master knelt by the elf. The elf wore an expression of great sorrow on his face, for the loss of one elf was that much more unexpected and damaging then the loss of one human. Elves could live for centuries, and with so many fewer, the loss was that much more keen. "Master… Bel Ti'eva… who-" Gyrfalcon started to ask before his master cut him off abruptly. "Bel Tie'va. A Necromancer who controls a nearby kingdom. The drow was a member of his army, one of their Eddk'Tina. Assassins, scouts, spies, murderers… they do all that and more. His orders were to scout this area, though the reason was not given. Gyrfalcon felt cold- the town he was born in, Muriska, was one of the many independent towns in Terra, under the dominion of no Mage Lord. If the spies of a Mage Lord was scouting the area… "Master… they're going to- to attack Muriska, aren't they?" He said, his voice an equal blend of shock and horror. "We don't know that… but we should tell the town leaders just to be on the safe side. Why don't you go get cleaned up at the stream… I'll place the elf somewhere he can return to nature, and then we can gather and burn the goblin bodies." Gyrfalcon nodded woodenly and staggered off to find the stream to clean up. The pyre backlit the two forms as they walked away in the darkness. One form lingered and stared at the burning forms- "Please, Gods and Goddesses… let the Necromancer leave Muriska alone…" Gyrfalcon whispered before turning and running to catch up with his master. He still had much to learn, and suddenly it seemed much more important… Edited by: Gyrfalcon25 at: 7/11/01 7:22:50 pm Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 11 (7/29/01 8:27:59 pm) Reply Re: The Story of Gyrfalcon -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 3- Ruin and Pain It was two years after the first contact with the scouts of the Necromancer that his army came. Gyrfalcon had completed his training the year before, and was a ranger of the forests, serving besides his former master, now his friend. For two years, the rangers and the scouts of the militia had skirmished against the scouts of the Necromancer. Now his troops had come. Gyrfalcon raced through the forest, feet finding the trails that he knew best, slowly leaving behind the goblin worg riders. Gyrfalcon broke into a clearing, and stumbled to a halt. In the sky, he could see a rising cloud of smoke… not a plume, or several plumes even, but a cloud of black smoke, interspersed with flames. Muriska was burning. Gyrfalcon's home was burning, and he knew that most likely, everyone he knew was dead. The goblin raiders burst into the clearing behind Gyrfalcon, and he whirled and drew his sword. Sorrow had become a burning rage. The raiders were well trained by goblin standards, and they survived a whole half-minute more then they would have if they had been unarmed. After the battle, Gyrfalcon bound the one wound he had received, a cut along his forearm. The goblin who had done so paid immediately, Gyrfalcon giving it a pair of mortal wounds in a split second before whirling to guard his back from another raider sneaking up behind him. The battle was over, yet the smoke remained. More goblins no doubt infested the woods, and could stumble onto Gyrfalcon at any time, but he didn't care. Muriska was destroyed, his family and friends were dead... In the dark woods, surrounded by the corpses of his enemies, Gyrfalcon wept for the dead, and wept for himself, his world destroyed. It was morning. Gyrfalcon had managed to survive through the night, aided by the hectic rush as the Necromancer's forces withdrew. Gyrfalcon knew not why they would do so, instead of garrisoning the land they had taken, but it meant he had survived. He had found the body of his mentor, his friend. Around his mentor, the goblins and orcs were piled three or four deep, and close by were the bodies of several trolls, still smoldering from the fiery arrows his friend had killed them with. Gyrfalcon gently carried his mentor away, and placed him in a secret, verdant location that has escaped the ravaging of the Necromancer's brutal forces. His friend had loved this location, had found peace and solace here. Now, his body would feed the earth of his favorite place and help maintain its beauty. Gyrfalcon choked back tears once more as he left, knowing that his mentor would not wish tears as his parting gift. The old elf had died defending what he loved, and the retreat meant that what he loved would continue to exist. Gyrfalcon slowly walked down the trail towards the ruins of Muriska. The town was indeed a ruin. Fires had swept from one wall to another, and everything wooden was gone. The stone walls were blistered and scorched, blackened with soot. Here and there, some had cracked and fallen from the heat. The other wall was in even worse condition, broken and smashed from the siege engines and battle magics of the Necromancer and his force. Despite that, the dead were carpeted thickly all around the city, and were even deeper inside. The necromancer had paid a dire price for this victory, obviously underestimating the fighting spirit of the citizens of Muriska when they knew there backs were to the wall. But all that fighting spirit of the thousands of Muriska could not save them from the tens of thousands of undead summoned by the Necromancer… Gyrfalcon's eyes widened- undead! Surely with this bountiful supply of the newly dead and the again dead, the Necromancer would have spent time animating the bodies, even as only zombies… Something had happened, something major. To force the Necromancer to run for home, could only mean… he was being attacked by another Archmage. In that confusion, Gyrfalcon could strike… could breech the battle lines and find the Necromancer. Gyrfalcon knew he would most likely die on this course, but he was determined to slay the Necromancer. Gyrfalcon left Muriska soon after, following the trails of the Necromancer's armies, determined to find and slay the foul being who had destroyed his home, his life. Gyrfalcon had only one thing left. Vengence. Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 19 (8/28/01 11:28:09 pm) Reply Re: The Story of Gyrfalcon -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- last update, the story is done to your apathy. *shrug* Chapter 4- Hell on Earth two months after I left Muriska, I found my way to the Necromancer's citadel. It had been difficult getting through the battle lines, but luckily the senses of the undead sentries of the Necromancer were easy to evade, and the living sentries had been silenced. Now, I stood before the outer wall of his castle… and yes, like any castle of a self-respecting necromancer, it was dark and ominous… Gyrfalcon looked up at the imposing walls of the fortress, but he felt no discouragement at their foreboding size. They were made out of roughly hewn chunks of granite, held together by magic, not mortar. To Gyrfalcon's eyes, they presented hand and footholds aplenty… With one last quick glance around, Gyrfalcon started his climb, one black shape against the black walls… In normal times, that would not have helped him against the senses of the dark elves that called this infernal city home, or the wraith sentinels, or even one of the lich that served their lord and master. But the armies of the other Archmage were close enough to the city now that every spare soldier, even the militia, had been called out to the front to bolster the Necromancer's sagging lines. The war hadn't been going well for the Necromancer. His armies had fallen before the other mage's summoned creatures- Gyrfalcon had passed by one such battle, had watched in awe as wings of some type of flier had swooped down to tear apart the undead as scaly lizardmen smashed apart skeletons in savage battle. Gyrfalcon had had to hide in the forest as angelic patrols swooped past, flushing out small bands of wraiths and ghouls and falling on them with the sound of a joyous, metallic choir ringing in the air. The war had moved steadily inward to the Necromancer's citadel, and the confusion of the war gave Gyrfalcon the opportunity to stage his attack on the Necromancer himself. Gyrfalcon climbed over the wall less then five minutes after he began his climb, and dropped into a crouch, listening and looking for sentries. There were none on the wall, though the light in the tower arrow slits said that some guards could be found there… Hurrying quickly, Gyrfalcon descended down the staircase that led up to the wall, and hugging the shadows, made his way to the inner wall. There, he found his first challenge, a pair of zombies who moaned and shuffled at him, only to fall to the ground as the edge of Gyrfalcon's fine katana sheared through their necks, and in doing so severed the unlife that animated their corpses. With a quick glance around to insure that his brief skirmish had not been noticed, Gyrfalcon climbed over the inner wall as well, and dropped into the inner courtyard. A quick search revealed only one way in, which didn't surprise Gyrfalcon- as far as he could tell, all of the Necromancer's servants were undead, skeletons mostly, to avoid the stench and rot of the zombies. Gyrfalcon entered through the front door of the tower, his every sense alert, his katana drawn. Yet no traps sprung, no monsters confronted him, nothing happened at all… Gyrfalcon didn't pause to question his good fortune, but instead sprinted up the stairs that faced the entrance. The stairs doubled back again and again, with no doors leading off at any landing. Eventually, having moved from a sprint to a steady pace to conserve energy, Gyrfalcon came to a door at the head of the stairs. He paused to catch his breath and listen for occupants beyond the door…. He heard nothing, no movement, no breathing… He mustered his courage and entered, and saw that he was in a massive antechamber. Across from where he entered were two massive bronze doors, covered with arcane signals and disturbing images of undead being raised and vile rites being preformed. Gyrfalcon's fascination with the doors nearly cost him his life. He heard a slight scrape behind him to his right and threw himself away and to the left. However, he stumbled as he came to his feet, and had to throw himself into another roll. This saved his life as well as a fireball flew past his head, singing some hairs. It would have struck him full on if he had not moved. Gyrfalcon came to his feet and faced his attackers, and he screamed. Horror, pain, rage, fear… his scream echoed but a few of his emotions as he faced his attackers. As he faced the undead creatures that had been his parents. His mother, once a beautiful elf in life, and a potent spell caster, had been changed into a lich, her fair features all but gone to rot. Her face was locked in a skeletal smile as demonic black fires played in her eye sockets where her bright blue eyes, which had sparkled so often in merriment, had once resided. What had happened to his father Gyrfalcon had a little more trouble identifying, but as they traded sword blows, Gyrfalcon keeping the creature between him and the lich to provide cover from any spells it could cast. Finally, as Gyrfalcon nearly lost his head to a cunning move, he understood. His father was a zombie, yes, but a special sort that was difficult to create. A Ju-ju zombie, possessing nearly all the skills of the person in life, but gifted with more intelligence and evil then a normal zombie. Now, Gyrfalcon faced what had been his father in mortal combat, his head still whirling. Tears trickled down Gyrfalcon's face as he fought, and finally he managed to choke out a whisper to the spirits of his parents, even as his defensive blade work shifted to offense "I will release your bodies from the bondage they are held in by the Necromancer…" Gyrfalcon's eyes burned with rage as he batted his foe's blade, first one direction, then another. His sword speed up until it was a blur, matched by the zombie. The scream of metal became constant, as Gyrfalcon narrowed down his focus to the one moment, when either one would make a mistake… Yet as Gyrfalcon narrowed his focus, he expanded his senses, and heard the slight scrape of bony foot against stone, and the quiet, hissing and clicking chant as the lich prepared to launch a spell at Gyrfalcon. With a sudden frenzy, Gyrfalcon hacked away at his opponent, which left him open. His opponent leaned into the blow that would hack halfway through Gyrfalcon. Except Gyrfalcon had done this intentionally, and threw himself into a roll that left the zombie between the lich and himself. The fireball hit the ju-ju zombie right in the back, and blew it apart. Undeterred, the demonic intelligence that controlled the lich began another chant at its now visible target. The visible and charging target. Gyrfalcon struck down the lich in a flurry of blows, splitting open the skull and allowing the possessing lifeforce no home, dispelling it to the void, to wander as a powerless spirit, forever. Tears of grief and rage trickled down Gyrfalcon's face as he made his way to the huge bronze doors and opened one to slip between them. The Necromancer would pay. Chapter 5- Retribution at hand Gyrfalcon entered the sanctum of the Necromancer, his grief transformed into a burning rage. He found his nemesis, Bel Tie'va, known most often as the Necromancer. The monster stood in the center of a pentagram, and was lost in the throes of a building spell. Arcane phrases rolled from his lips as his hands traced symbols in the air. In front of him hung suspended a parchment, and a quill pen, and his tone as he chanted seemed to be of argument. As phrases rolled from his lips, words appeared on the parchment, filling in the last few lines of the nearly completed document. Gyrfalcon's blood ran cold, though he did not know the meaning of the parchment. He charged at the Necromancer, silent as death, hoping to slay the foul monster immediately. But this was the Necromancer's inner sanctum, and in here he knew all. He whirled around to face Gyrfalcon's charge, and the paper spun with him to remain in front, needing only his signature to complete it. Gyrfalcon's katana rent that work with his first swipe, but his second and third bounced off the Necromancer as if he were made of stone. Gyrfalcon reared back for another blow but found himself instead floating upwards and away slightly, and twisted helplessly in the Necromancer's grasp. Then he was flying backwards, and his leg folded in a place it wasn't supposed to as he hit the far wall with a thud and a sickening cracking noise. Gyrfalcon nearly blacked out from agony, and wasn't even aware of it as his katana slid from his loosened grip and fell to the ground with a peal of metal on stone. The Necromancer then noticed the rent paper, slowly turning to ash and he stalked out of the circle, trembling with ill-suppressed rage. "How dare you?! You ruined hours of work you little wretch! I'll flay your hide, you lesser creature!" The Necromancer railed at Gyrfalcon, the light of madness in his dark eyes. Gyrfalcon shook his head, trying to fight through the pain pulsing up his shattered leg to focus on the Necromancer. He tasted the bitter draught of failure- he had no way to combat the magic of the Necromancer, and he knew he would shortly be dead. The Necromancer was screaming now, spittle flying from his mouth and collecting at the corners of it with each word "Do you know how long it took me to hammer out those terms? DO YOU?!" The Necromancer continued to sputter about how difficult it would be to gain such favorable terms again, about the time lost in penning a new contract. The time was lost, and the Necromancer was suddenly out of time. The tower rocked under a magical assault, as the battle between the Necromancer and his foe reached the capital city. The unexpected assault disrupted the Necromancer's concentration, and Gyrfalcon fell to the ground with a cry of pain as he tried to straighten his injured leg to brace his fall. He fell to a crouch, balancing on his good leg as the Necromancer whirled away and started towards the circle, already muttering the beginning phrases of a summoning spell. Gyrfalcon felt the energy building within him, the manifestation of all his hatred of the Necromancer, his anger at the murder of his hometown, his fear… everything he felt at that moment began to build within him. Without conscious thought, his hands begin to move in a specific pattern and he chanted, silently at first but rising slowly into a crescendo. With just a step to go until Bel Tie'va entered his protective and shielding magical circle, Gyrfalcon reached the culmination of his chant. The room burst into flames, the flames turning white-hot as Gyrfalcon poured all his emotions into the spell. Casting a spell in such a fashion was incredibly dangerous because of the chance the spell could run wild, but when cast successfully, the spell became much more effective then usual. In this case, however, the spell seemed to go beyond even the limits of emotion-wrought magic as the air shimmered and blurred, becoming super-heated and rippling like water. Gyrfalcon gasped for breath, sweat bursting from his body only to immediately evaporate in the heat that enveloped him, though the flames did not extend to the corner of the tower that he crouched in. The last image that he saw before passing out from the heat and pain was Bel Tie'va dancing in agony, shrouded in the flames of rage and revenge. Chapter 6- Retribution Completed Gyrfalcon awoke suddenly, the cool tingling of healing magic flowing through him. He looked up into the swarthy face of a bear of a man, who was chanting a simple healing spell, his brow furrowed in concentration, as though the magic came hard to him. But even if the spell was difficult for the man, its effects were obvious as Gyrfalcon's broken leg straightened and his cuts and bruises disappeared. The man completed the final chant and looked down at Gyrfalcon, a strange expression on his face. Gyrfalcon rolled to his feet and put his back to the wall as a pair of lizardmen guards hissed at him, clenching their weapons at his sudden movement. The man waved a hand and the two creatures fell back. The man continued to study Gyrfalcon and the half-elf returned the scrutiny. The man was dressed in flowing red robes, though the way they bulged out slightly and the gleam of metal through a slash on the sleeve of the robe made Gyrfalcon suspect that the man wore armor beneath the robes. He was impressively large, with a flowing black beard and gray-streaked hair. He had a beak of a nose and his blue eyes were piercing. Finally, as each ended his scrutiny of the other, the man spoke. "Well, assassin, you saved me a bit of trouble by dealing with that fool, though I would have liked to personally stick his head on a pike." The man rumbled. Gyrfalcon glared at him in return. "I am no assassin. I came not for money, but for revenge." He spat. "Revenge? Really… and for what of Bel's many foul deeds did you seek revenge?" the robed figure said. "Was it any greater this his offenses against me? He attacked me repeatedly, and took hundreds of acres of my lands!" the figure finished in a roar. Gyrfalcon didn't back down, though he now knew that this was the Necromancer's opponent, another powerful Archmage. "He killed my family, destroyed my home, and ruined my life. Acres can be regained, but those three things cannot!" The man regarded Gyrfalcon. Finally, he spoke once more. "Yes, you are correct. Acres can be regained, but what of the lives of those men who stood to defend their homes? What of those slain or captured when Bel's troops rampaged through my country, pillaging and looting? Your reason for vengeance was personal, mine for the lives of those lost to Bel Tie'va's hunger for power. But then, I am responsible for the fate of half a million people, and you are responsible for only yourself." The man stopped and started softly chanting. Gyrfalcon tensed his muscles and prepared to dodge, though he knew that the Archmage could instantly kill him with one of many, many spells. Gyrfalcon had gotten incredibly lucky with the Necromancer, and he knew it. The spell went off, yet it did not bring fiery destruction to Gyrfalcon. Instead, the man's eyes widened. He looked at Gyrfalcon with new respect. "You have the makings of an Archmage within you… I make you an offer: come with me and learn from me, learn how to control the mighty arts of fire." Gyrfalcon hesitated- what was in it for the Archmage? Why make the offer at all? The man saw the look on Gyrfalcon's face and spoke "Ah, I can see your hesitance. What does he gain, you think? I gain an apprentice, one who can help my summon my creatures, help secure my kingdom. I gain a loyal advisor, for I have seen your aura and I know that you will not betray your spoken word. And you? You gain the abilities and powers of an Archmage, and most of all the ability to make sure that what Bel Tie'va did will never be repeated by another Archmage against someone you care for." Gyrfalcon closed his eyes in thought, and the Archmage waited patiently, though that did not come easily to him. Gyrfalcon opened his eyes and gave his response. Epilogue- Beyond Retribution I accepted Arailn Delmarn's offer, and became his apprentice. Master Delmarn was a master of Eradication magic. I grew to respect his power, but we never became friends. When all was said and done, Master Delmarn cared more for his lost land then the people who died, cared more for the might of his army then the cries of the hungry within his lands. I learned all that I could of the Eradication arts and left Master Delmarn. I founded a new kingdom, the capital city the rebuilt city of Muriska. I learned magic and grew in power. But I always remembered where I came from, I saw it every time I looked out a window. I fought for my people, never for my pride. I fought so that no others within the kingdom would have to follow my path. The path of vengence. Yui Temae Quill-Bearer Posts: 54 (8/29/01 9:23:31 am) Reply An Interlude and Prelude? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yui stands in the shadows, the pleased look in her eyes in stark contrast to the solemn expression held by the rest of her face. When she steps into the flickering light of the candle on Gyrfalcon's desk, her compassion is hidden by the cowl of her cloak. Quietly, so as not to disturb the reflections of the half-elf as he sits staring at his penned work, she whispers, "Pain often does have a way of forging us into something new, does it not?" Surprised, he looks up, his hand automatically reaching towards the hilt of his katana, which he belatedly remembers is hung beside the bed in these, his personal chambers. Bowing her head as she lowers the cowl from around her features, the eavesdropping Huntress has the good graces to feel shame at her interruption. "I... I beg forgiveness, Master Bard. I was coming to deliver a message, but I did not wish to disturb you. I know I ... should have gone, but your story caught me. To face your own parents so corrupted..." Yui merely shakes her head, speechless, as her eyes take on a thoughtful look. With a start, she returns her attention to her errand and reaches into her cloak to remove a small piece of parchment tied with a silken, green bow. Bowing slightly, she carefully places it beside his hand on the desk. "Please excuse my rudeness, Gyrfalcon. I'll leave you to your memories..." ... because they stab at too many of my own. "... Good night." Her smile is short and hollow before she turns to make her way back into the darkness. Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 21 (8/29/01 12:03:34 pm) Reply Re: An Interlude and Prelude? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gyrfalcon spoke just before the Huntress stepped into the shadows. "No… no apologies needed. Yes, to face the forms of my own parents, twisted into undead monsters was horrible… but no doubt many others have faced horrors just as great… or greater. Good night, Yui-chan." Gyrfalcon got the sense that Yui nodded once, slowly, before disappearing into the shadows and then through the shadows. As she left, Gyrfalcon sighed and shivered slightly. He didn't like it when people stepped out of the shadows like that, moved through the shadows like that… He had fought a Shade Lord, had helped slay a Shadow Dragon, and he felt that the Plane of Shadows was best left undisturbed. With a shrug, Gyrfalcon dismissed the thoughts and picked up the scroll, feeling the silk of the ribbon beneath his fingers as he slid it off and unrolled the scroll to read the message.

Yui Temae Quill-Bearer Posts: 54 (8/29/01 9:23:31 am) Reply An Interlude and Prelude? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yui stands in the shadows, the pleased look in her eyes in stark contrast to the solemn expression held by the rest of her face. When she steps into the flickering light of the candle on Gyrfalcon's desk, her compassion is hidden by the cowl of her cloak. Quietly, so as not to disturb the reflections of the half-elf as he sits staring at his penned work, she whispers, "Pain often does have a way of forging us into something new, does it not?" Surprised, he looks up, his hand automatically reaching towards the hilt of his katana, which he belatedly remembers is hung beside the bed in these, his personal chambers. Bowing her head as she lowers the cowl from around her features, the eavesdropping Huntress has the good graces to feel shame at her interruption. "I... I beg forgiveness, Master Bard. I was coming to deliver a message, but I did not wish to disturb you. I know I ... should have gone, but your story caught me. To face your own parents so corrupted..." Yui merely shakes her head, speechless, as her eyes take on a thoughtful look. With a start, she returns her attention to her errand and reaches into her cloak to remove a small piece of parchment tied with a silken, green bow. Bowing slightly, she carefully places it beside his hand on the desk. "Please excuse my rudeness, Gyrfalcon. I'll leave you to your memories..." ... because they stab at too many of my own. "... Good night." Her smile is short and hollow before she turns to make her way back into the darkness.

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 19 (8/28/01 11:28:09 pm) Reply Re: The Story of Gyrfalcon -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- last update, the story is done to your apathy. *shrug* Chapter 4- Hell on Earth two months after I left Muriska, I found my way to the Necromancer's citadel. It had been difficult getting through the battle lines, but luckily the senses of the undead sentries of the Necromancer were easy to evade, and the living sentries had been silenced. Now, I stood before the outer wall of his castle… and yes, like any castle of a self-respecting necromancer, it was dark and ominous… Gyrfalcon looked up at the imposing walls of the fortress, but he felt no discouragement at their foreboding size. They were made out of roughly hewn chunks of granite, held together by magic, not mortar. To Gyrfalcon's eyes, they presented hand and footholds aplenty… With one last quick glance around, Gyrfalcon started his climb, one black shape against the black walls… In normal times, that would not have helped him against the senses of the dark elves that called this infernal city home, or the wraith sentinels, or even one of the lich that served their lord and master. But the armies of the other Archmage were close enough to the city now that every spare soldier, even the militia, had been called out to the front to bolster the Necromancer's sagging lines. The war hadn't been going well for the Necromancer. His armies had fallen before the other mage's summoned creatures- Gyrfalcon had passed by one such battle, had watched in awe as wings of some type of flier had swooped down to tear apart the undead as scaly lizardmen smashed apart skeletons in savage battle. Gyrfalcon had had to hide in the forest as angelic patrols swooped past, flushing out small bands of wraiths and ghouls and falling on them with the sound of a joyous, metallic choir ringing in the air. The war had moved steadily inward to the Necromancer's citadel, and the confusion of the war gave Gyrfalcon the opportunity to stage his attack on the Necromancer himself. Gyrfalcon climbed over the wall less then five minutes after he began his climb, and dropped into a crouch, listening and looking for sentries. There were none on the wall, though the light in the tower arrow slits said that some guards could be found there… Hurrying quickly, Gyrfalcon descended down the staircase that led up to the wall, and hugging the shadows, made his way to the inner wall. There, he found his first challenge, a pair of zombies who moaned and shuffled at him, only to fall to the ground as the edge of Gyrfalcon's fine katana sheared through their necks, and in doing so severed the unlife that animated their corpses. With a quick glance around to insure that his brief skirmish had not been noticed, Gyrfalcon climbed over the inner wall as well, and dropped into the inner courtyard. A quick search revealed only one way in, which didn't surprise Gyrfalcon- as far as he could tell, all of the Necromancer's servants were undead, skeletons mostly, to avoid the stench and rot of the zombies. Gyrfalcon entered through the front door of the tower, his every sense alert, his katana drawn. Yet no traps sprung, no monsters confronted him, nothing happened at all… Gyrfalcon didn't pause to question his good fortune, but instead sprinted up the stairs that faced the entrance. The stairs doubled back again and again, with no doors leading off at any landing. Eventually, having moved from a sprint to a steady pace to conserve energy, Gyrfalcon came to a door at the head of the stairs. He paused to catch his breath and listen for occupants beyond the door…. He heard nothing, no movement, no breathing… He mustered his courage and entered, and saw that he was in a massive antechamber. Across from where he entered were two massive bronze doors, covered with arcane signals and disturbing images of undead being raised and vile rites being preformed. Gyrfalcon's fascination with the doors nearly cost him his life. He heard a slight scrape behind him to his right and threw himself away and to the left. However, he stumbled as he came to his feet, and had to throw himself into another roll. This saved his life as well as a fireball flew past his head, singing some hairs. It would have struck him full on if he had not moved. Gyrfalcon came to his feet and faced his attackers, and he screamed. Horror, pain, rage, fear… his scream echoed but a few of his emotions as he faced his attackers. As he faced the undead creatures that had been his parents. His mother, once a beautiful elf in life, and a potent spell caster, had been changed into a lich, her fair features all but gone to rot. Her face was locked in a skeletal smile as demonic black fires played in her eye sockets where her bright blue eyes, which had sparkled so often in merriment, had once resided. What had happened to his father Gyrfalcon had a little more trouble identifying, but as they traded sword blows, Gyrfalcon keeping the creature between him and the lich to provide cover from any spells it could cast. Finally, as Gyrfalcon nearly lost his head to a cunning move, he understood. His father was a zombie, yes, but a special sort that was difficult to create. A Ju-ju zombie, possessing nearly all the skills of the person in life, but gifted with more intelligence and evil then a normal zombie. Now, Gyrfalcon faced what had been his father in mortal combat, his head still whirling. Tears trickled down Gyrfalcon's face as he fought, and finally he managed to choke out a whisper to the spirits of his parents, even as his defensive blade work shifted to offense "I will release your bodies from the bondage they are held in by the Necromancer…" Gyrfalcon's eyes burned with rage as he batted his foe's blade, first one direction, then another. His sword speed up until it was a blur, matched by the zombie. The scream of metal became constant, as Gyrfalcon narrowed down his focus to the one moment, when either one would make a mistake… Yet as Gyrfalcon narrowed his focus, he expanded his senses, and heard the slight scrape of bony foot against stone, and the quiet, hissing and clicking chant as the lich prepared to launch a spell at Gyrfalcon. With a sudden frenzy, Gyrfalcon hacked away at his opponent, which left him open. His opponent leaned into the blow that would hack halfway through Gyrfalcon. Except Gyrfalcon had done this intentionally, and threw himself into a roll that left the zombie between the lich and himself. The fireball hit the ju-ju zombie right in the back, and blew it apart. Undeterred, the demonic intelligence that controlled the lich began another chant at its now visible target. The visible and charging target. Gyrfalcon struck down the lich in a flurry of blows, splitting open the skull and allowing the possessing lifeforce no home, dispelling it to the void, to wander as a powerless spirit, forever. Tears of grief and rage trickled down Gyrfalcon's face as he made his way to the huge bronze doors and opened one to slip between them. The Necromancer would pay. Chapter 5- Retribution at hand Gyrfalcon entered the sanctum of the Necromancer, his grief transformed into a burning rage. He found his nemesis, Bel Tie'va, known most often as the Necromancer. The monster stood in the center of a pentagram, and was lost in the throes of a building spell. Arcane phrases rolled from his lips as his hands traced symbols in the air. In front of him hung suspended a parchment, and a quill pen, and his tone as he chanted seemed to be of argument. As phrases rolled from his lips, words appeared on the parchment, filling in the last few lines of the nearly completed document. Gyrfalcon's blood ran cold, though he did not know the meaning of the parchment. He charged at the Necromancer, silent as death, hoping to slay the foul monster immediately. But this was the Necromancer's inner sanctum, and in here he knew all. He whirled around to face Gyrfalcon's charge, and the paper spun with him to remain in front, needing only his signature to complete it. Gyrfalcon's katana rent that work with his first swipe, but his second and third bounced off the Necromancer as if he were made of stone. Gyrfalcon reared back for another blow but found himself instead floating upwards and away slightly, and twisted helplessly in the Necromancer's grasp. Then he was flying backwards, and his leg folded in a place it wasn't supposed to as he hit the far wall with a thud and a sickening cracking noise. Gyrfalcon nearly blacked out from agony, and wasn't even aware of it as his katana slid from his loosened grip and fell to the ground with a peal of metal on stone. The Necromancer then noticed the rent paper, slowly turning to ash and he stalked out of the circle, trembling with ill-suppressed rage. "How dare you?! You ruined hours of work you little wretch! I'll flay your hide, you lesser creature!" The Necromancer railed at Gyrfalcon, the light of madness in his dark eyes. Gyrfalcon shook his head, trying to fight through the pain pulsing up his shattered leg to focus on the Necromancer. He tasted the bitter draught of failure- he had no way to combat the magic of the Necromancer, and he knew he would shortly be dead. The Necromancer was screaming now, spittle flying from his mouth and collecting at the corners of it with each word "Do you know how long it took me to hammer out those terms? DO YOU?!" The Necromancer continued to sputter about how difficult it would be to gain such favorable terms again, about the time lost in penning a new contract. The time was lost, and the Necromancer was suddenly out of time. The tower rocked under a magical assault, as the battle between the Necromancer and his foe reached the capital city. The unexpected assault disrupted the Necromancer's concentration, and Gyrfalcon fell to the ground with a cry of pain as he tried to straighten his injured leg to brace his fall. He fell to a crouch, balancing on his good leg as the Necromancer whirled away and started towards the circle, already muttering the beginning phrases of a summoning spell. Gyrfalcon felt the energy building within him, the manifestation of all his hatred of the Necromancer, his anger at the murder of his hometown, his fear… everything he felt at that moment began to build within him. Without conscious thought, his hands begin to move in a specific pattern and he chanted, silently at first but rising slowly into a crescendo. With just a step to go until Bel Tie'va entered his protective and shielding magical circle, Gyrfalcon reached the culmination of his chant. The room burst into flames, the flames turning white-hot as Gyrfalcon poured all his emotions into the spell. Casting a spell in such a fashion was incredibly dangerous because of the chance the spell could run wild, but when cast successfully, the spell became much more effective then usual. In this case, however, the spell seemed to go beyond even the limits of emotion-wrought magic as the air shimmered and blurred, becoming super-heated and rippling like water. Gyrfalcon gasped for breath, sweat bursting from his body only to immediately evaporate in the heat that enveloped him, though the flames did not extend to the corner of the tower that he crouched in. The last image that he saw before passing out from the heat and pain was Bel Tie'va dancing in agony, shrouded in the flames of rage and revenge. Chapter 6- Retribution Completed Gyrfalcon awoke suddenly, the cool tingling of healing magic flowing through him. He looked up into the swarthy face of a bear of a man, who was chanting a simple healing spell, his brow furrowed in concentration, as though the magic came hard to him. But even if the spell was difficult for the man, its effects were obvious as Gyrfalcon's broken leg straightened and his cuts and bruises disappeared. The man completed the final chant and looked down at Gyrfalcon, a strange expression on his face. Gyrfalcon rolled to his feet and put his back to the wall as a pair of lizardmen guards hissed at him, clenching their weapons at his sudden movement. The man waved a hand and the two creatures fell back. The man continued to study Gyrfalcon and the half-elf returned the scrutiny. The man was dressed in flowing red robes, though the way they bulged out slightly and the gleam of metal through a slash on the sleeve of the robe made Gyrfalcon suspect that the man wore armor beneath the robes. He was impressively large, with a flowing black beard and gray-streaked hair. He had a beak of a nose and his blue eyes were piercing. Finally, as each ended his scrutiny of the other, the man spoke. "Well, assassin, you saved me a bit of trouble by dealing with that fool, though I would have liked to personally stick his head on a pike." The man rumbled. Gyrfalcon glared at him in return. "I am no assassin. I came not for money, but for revenge." He spat. "Revenge? Really… and for what of Bel's many foul deeds did you seek revenge?" the robed figure said. "Was it any greater this his offenses against me? He attacked me repeatedly, and took hundreds of acres of my lands!" the figure finished in a roar. Gyrfalcon didn't back down, though he now knew that this was the Necromancer's opponent, another powerful Archmage. "He killed my family, destroyed my home, and ruined my life. Acres can be regained, but those three things cannot!" The man regarded Gyrfalcon. Finally, he spoke once more. "Yes, you are correct. Acres can be regained, but what of the lives of those men who stood to defend their homes? What of those slain or captured when Bel's troops rampaged through my country, pillaging and looting? Your reason for vengeance was personal, mine for the lives of those lost to Bel Tie'va's hunger for power. But then, I am responsible for the fate of half a million people, and you are responsible for only yourself." The man stopped and started softly chanting. Gyrfalcon tensed his muscles and prepared to dodge, though he knew that the Archmage could instantly kill him with one of many, many spells. Gyrfalcon had gotten incredibly lucky with the Necromancer, and he knew it. The spell went off, yet it did not bring fiery destruction to Gyrfalcon. Instead, the man's eyes widened. He looked at Gyrfalcon with new respect. "You have the makings of an Archmage within you… I make you an offer: come with me and learn from me, learn how to control the mighty arts of fire." Gyrfalcon hesitated- what was in it for the Archmage? Why make the offer at all? The man saw the look on Gyrfalcon's face and spoke "Ah, I can see your hesitance. What does he gain, you think? I gain an apprentice, one who can help my summon my creatures, help secure my kingdom. I gain a loyal advisor, for I have seen your aura and I know that you will not betray your spoken word. And you? You gain the abilities and powers of an Archmage, and most of all the ability to make sure that what Bel Tie'va did will never be repeated by another Archmage against someone you care for." Gyrfalcon closed his eyes in thought, and the Archmage waited patiently, though that did not come easily to him. Gyrfalcon opened his eyes and gave his response. Epilogue- Beyond Retribution I accepted Arailn Delmarn's offer, and became his apprentice. Master Delmarn was a master of Eradication magic. I grew to respect his power, but we never became friends. When all was said and done, Master Delmarn cared more for his lost land then the people who died, cared more for the might of his army then the cries of the hungry within his lands. I learned all that I could of the Eradication arts and left Master Delmarn. I founded a new kingdom, the capital city the rebuilt city of Muriska. I learned magic and grew in power. But I always remembered where I came from, I saw it every time I looked out a window. I fought for my people, never for my pride. I fought so that no others within the kingdom would have to follow my path. The path of vengence.

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 11 (7/29/01 8:27:59 pm) Reply Re: The Story of Gyrfalcon -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 3- Ruin and Pain It was two years after the first contact with the scouts of the Necromancer that his army came. Gyrfalcon had completed his training the year before, and was a ranger of the forests, serving besides his former master, now his friend. For two years, the rangers and the scouts of the militia had skirmished against the scouts of the Necromancer. Now his troops had come. Gyrfalcon raced through the forest, feet finding the trails that he knew best, slowly leaving behind the goblin worg riders. Gyrfalcon broke into a clearing, and stumbled to a halt. In the sky, he could see a rising cloud of smoke… not a plume, or several plumes even, but a cloud of black smoke, interspersed with flames. Muriska was burning. Gyrfalcon's home was burning, and he knew that most likely, everyone he knew was dead. The goblin raiders burst into the clearing behind Gyrfalcon, and he whirled and drew his sword. Sorrow had become a burning rage. The raiders were well trained by goblin standards, and they survived a whole half-minute more then they would have if they had been unarmed. After the battle, Gyrfalcon bound the one wound he had received, a cut along his forearm. The goblin who had done so paid immediately, Gyrfalcon giving it a pair of mortal wounds in a split second before whirling to guard his back from another raider sneaking up behind him. The battle was over, yet the smoke remained. More goblins no doubt infested the woods, and could stumble onto Gyrfalcon at any time, but he didn't care. Muriska was destroyed, his family and friends were dead... In the dark woods, surrounded by the corpses of his enemies, Gyrfalcon wept for the dead, and wept for himself, his world destroyed. It was morning. Gyrfalcon had managed to survive through the night, aided by the hectic rush as the Necromancer's forces withdrew. Gyrfalcon knew not why they would do so, instead of garrisoning the land they had taken, but it meant he had survived. He had found the body of his mentor, his friend. Around his mentor, the goblins and orcs were piled three or four deep, and close by were the bodies of several trolls, still smoldering from the fiery arrows his friend had killed them with. Gyrfalcon gently carried his mentor away, and placed him in a secret, verdant location that has escaped the ravaging of the Necromancer's brutal forces. His friend had loved this location, had found peace and solace here. Now, his body would feed the earth of his favorite place and help maintain its beauty. Gyrfalcon choked back tears once more as he left, knowing that his mentor would not wish tears as his parting gift. The old elf had died defending what he loved, and the retreat meant that what he loved would continue to exist. Gyrfalcon slowly walked down the trail towards the ruins of Muriska. The town was indeed a ruin. Fires had swept from one wall to another, and everything wooden was gone. The stone walls were blistered and scorched, blackened with soot. Here and there, some had cracked and fallen from the heat. The other wall was in even worse condition, broken and smashed from the siege engines and battle magics of the Necromancer and his force. Despite that, the dead were carpeted thickly all around the city, and were even deeper inside. The necromancer had paid a dire price for this victory, obviously underestimating the fighting spirit of the citizens of Muriska when they knew there backs were to the wall. But all that fighting spirit of the thousands of Muriska could not save them from the tens of thousands of undead summoned by the Necromancer… Gyrfalcon's eyes widened- undead! Surely with this bountiful supply of the newly dead and the again dead, the Necromancer would have spent time animating the bodies, even as only zombies… Something had happened, something major. To force the Necromancer to run for home, could only mean… he was being attacked by another Archmage. In that confusion, Gyrfalcon could strike… could breech the battle lines and find the Necromancer. Gyrfalcon knew he would most likely die on this course, but he was determined to slay the Necromancer. Gyrfalcon left Muriska soon after, following the trails of the Necromancer's armies, determined to find and slay the foul being who had destroyed his home, his life. Gyrfalcon had only one thing left. Vengence.

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 5 (7/11/01 7:15:22 pm) Reply The Story of Gyrfalcon -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My life... how long it has been since I was born. Despite my appearance, I am older, far older, then the people around me. I have watched an elf from infancy to death, and still I remain this age. I am Immortal. I am a demigod. I am Gyrfalcon, the battlemage. Yet, you ask, how did I come to be these things? Very well, then, I will tell you a story. The story of my beginnings, and how I became an archmage… Chapter 1- A Simple, Happy Life "Hey, Gyr!" Gyrfalcon was distracted by the shout, and his head turned slightly towards the speaker. Too late, he turned back to his opponent, and brought his shinai down in an attempt to block the shinai arcing towards his ribs. A touch too slow, Gyrfalcon gasped in pain as the heavy blow landed, the force still heavy enough to leave a bruise through the padded training armor Gyrfalcon was wearing. His opponent stepped back and pulled off the men covering his face. The action revealed the face of his teacher, and his father. "Gyr, you have to be *focused*! You can't let simple noises distract you when you're fighting... unless, of course, it sounds like someone coming up behind you with a knife." He chuckled as he said that, and Gyrfalcon managed a slight chuckle through his embarrassment as well. Gyrfalcon looked at his father, and was still amazed by what he saw. Darek, his father, was 45, with wings of grey at his temples, yet still moved like he was 15 years younger. His eyes sparkled with intelligence, and you could see the experience of his life in them. To Gyrfalcon, he was always warm, but always firm when instructing Gyrfalcon in the way of the sword. Darek was a member of the town militia- indeed, he was the second in command, and he also served as the town's swordmaster, though currently Gyrfalcon was his only apprentice. "Well, I think it is time for us to knock it off. I should go help Shariel with dinner, and I think one of your friends wants to speak with you. Warm up a bit more tomorrow- you were stiff for the first few rounds, and that cost you a few extra hits." With this final piece of advice, Darek gripped Gyrfalcon's shoulder once, then walked over to the equipment rack and began taking off his practice armor. Gyrfalcon joined him and quickly replaced his armor on the rack. He turned and walked towards the gate, where a figure cried out "Hurry it up, will you?" Before turning and jogging away. Gyrfalcon chuckled to himself- Aldric, the boy at the gate, had no sense of patience. Gyrfalcon smiled slightly and broke into a jog, ignoring the pain from the bruises he has gained during the practice. Quickly, Gyrfalcon caught up with Aldric and fell into step beside him. Aldric looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Gyrfalcon stood at 6'2", his shoulders still broadening out to their adult dimensions. Still slender, he was fairly muscular from the near-daily practice sessions he had with his father. His hands were callused from long hours practicing his swordsmanship. His green eyes shone with intelligence and mirth, and he kept his hair cut short, keeping his slightly-pointed ears exposed to the stares of strangers who were not used to, or perhaps not comfortable with, half-elves. Gyrfalcon had learned to ignore their stares and remember the friendship of his few true friends, such as Aldric. Aldric finally spoke as his visual inspection of his friend ended. "So... you leave at the end of the week?" He asked Gyrfalcon. "Yeah, its time I learned a profession, after all." Gyrfalcon replied with a note of humor in his voice. Humans began training halfway through their 16th year. Aldric, for example, was most likely going to apprentice to his uncle, who was owned a store in the village. "But... a ranger?" "What's wrong with being a ranger?" "You could have joined the militia, and stayed close at home. Esmerelda like you..." Gyrfalcon chuckled "Sure she does. She only pretends to get closer to you." "You're avoiding the question." Aldric said, pursuing the earlier subject. "Basically... because I'm more comfortable out in the woodlands." "You and your elven blood!" Aldric said, in jest. "You better believe it!" Gyrfalcon replied with a smile on his face. The two friends parted paths as Aldric turned up the path to his house, and Gyrfalcon continued on to his home for his own dinner. The village was quiet and peaceful… Chapter 2- Hints of the Shadow in Sylvan forest Gyrfalcon waited patiently, eyes scanning the trail for the approaching goblins. This would be the first time in his two years of apprenticeship to the ranger that Gyrfalcon would engage in combat. This would be the first time in Gyrfalcon's young life that he would have to kill something. Nervousness bubbled up within Gyrfalcon, to be pushed back again. Gyrfalcon slowly tightened and released each muscle, both to ward off cramping and to use some of his excess nervous energy. To kill something- could he do it? The goblins were acknowledged as evil, yes, but they were sentient creatures… The time for contemplation was over, for the goblins had appeared, but with them was something altogether unexpected- a drow. Gyrfalcon's blood ran cold as he saw the drow appear at the end of the trail. To face goblins was bad enough, but to face a powerful and skilled drow! Then more goblins appeared, and suddenly Gyrfalcon was more then ready to kill every goblin, to face and slay the drow if he was capable… The goblins carried, bound to a pole, an elf. Or rather, the remains of an elf. He had been tortured, for no better reason then the delight these evil creatures found in his pain and screams of agony. Now, Gyrfalcon knew, his corpse was being carried for another reason- dinner for the goblins. Gyrfalcon's vision turned red, and without a conscious thought, his arm pumped once, twice, then again and again in rapid secession, plucking throwing knives off the belt around his waist. As the five on the left side of his belt flew through the air, Gyrfalcon switched hands and continued to throw from the remaining five on the other side of his belt. Even as bright steel flashed through the air to bury itself in goblin flesh, Gyrfalcon heard the hiss of an arrow screaming through the air. It embedded itself in the eye of the largest goblin, no doubt the leader. The goblins were frozen in shock and surprise as knives and arrows fell among their ranks, claiming life after life. Gyrfalcon noticed the drow dive suddenly, avoiding the arrow meant for his chest. The arrow flew on to claim the life of one of the goblins bearing the pole. Gyrfalcon's hand found only empty leather as he reached for the next knife, and without though he drew his sword from the sheath on his back and leapt from branch he crouched on, screaming his war-cry, the shriek of a gyrfalcon diving on it's prey. The two goblin scouts below him looked up in surprise. It was the last action they would ever take, as Gyrfalcon landed between them and sliced across. One fell with a slashed throat, the other with a deep wound across his chest that had reached to his heart, stilling it forever. Gyrfalcon stalked forward into the middle of the group, to find the goblins all dead. Several had knives sticking from their eyes or throats, and one had died when a knife had made it through its crude hide armor to pierce a lung- drowned in its own blood. However, many more had arrows in them, piercing heads and hearts in equal numbers. Gyrfalcon felt suddenly nauseous at the sight of the death around him, but he forced it down, reminding himself that enemies were in the area, including a deadly drow… Had that thought been a summons? Whatever the reason, as Gyrfalcon remembered the fact the drow still lived, the area around him disappeared. A globe of darkness, one of the many of the abilities of the drow. Another ability was their skill in blind fighting… Even as Gyrfalcon thought this, he heard the slightest sound of grass under boot- the attire of the drow had made him suspect that this one was from the Underdark, used to the shifting heat patterns of infravision in the underground and the stride needed to remain silent on echoing stone, not dry grass… Gyrfalcon thought these thoughts as he threw himself to the side in a roll. He heard the swishing as the drow's deadly blade slashed through the area he was standing, and the continued sound of dry grass crushed under booted foot as the drow followed Gyrfalcon, stabbing again and again in his attempts to slay one of the rangers so that he might deal with the other. Gyrfalcon continued his roll, and luck was with him, in a fashion. Gyrfalcon rolled onto a slope, and rolling as he was, down the slope he went. Picking up speed, he managed to separate from the drow and clear the globe of darkness. As Gyrfalcon struggled to his feet at the bottom of the slope, the drow likewise cleared the globe. Without pause, the drow leapt down at Gyrfalcon, his slender sword leading right for Gyrfalcon's breast. Gyrfalcon had other plans then dying that day, however, and slammed the drow's blade far to the side with his katana as the drow impacted with him. Gyrfalcon shuffled back a step to keep his balance, but for the shorter and lighter drow, the impact was disastrous. He fell back in a stumbled, but recovered by going into a roll again. The roll ended in a sprawl as an arrow slammed into his tumbling body. As the drow tried to get up, a final arrow struck it in the throat. He died instantly. Gyrfalcon looked into the face of his master, the man training him in the arts of being a ranger. He looked at Gyrfalcon coldly for a second, before finally allowing the ice to melt from his eyes. "You were impetuous, Gyrfalcon. While the ambush was a success, if you had allowed more of the enemy get into the kill zone, it would have been easier. As it is, I dealt with the three surviving goblins at the rear." The man, an elf in heritage, sighed and looked at the drow. His features darkened and he looked back to Gyrfalcon, his voice grim. "On the other hand, any closer and the drow might have noticed you hiding in the trees. Goblins are too stupid to look up for concealed enemies. The drow are not. All in all, good work. Now come, let us see what we might learn of our enemy. Drow aren't often sighted with goblins in this area." Gyrfalcon and his master returned to the center of the carnage and quickly looted the elves for signs of allegiance, valuables, and to retrieve their knives and arrows, respectively. Gyrfalcon then headed to the back of the column to search the goblins there. He quickly retrieved the arrows and the few coins the goblins had, then he came upon the corpse of the elf. His eyes had been ripped from his skull, his jaw smashed, his chest cut open and his entrails… Gyrfalcon whirled away and vomited. He knelt there, a string of saliva dangling from his lip, tears in his eyes. No one deserved the fate this hapless elf had found. What sort of demons where these creatures? "Minions of Bel Tie'va." The voice of his master answered from behind him. Gyrfalcon looked back, tears still running down his cheeks as his master knelt by the elf. The elf wore an expression of great sorrow on his face, for the loss of one elf was that much more unexpected and damaging then the loss of one human. Elves could live for centuries, and with so many fewer, the loss was that much more keen. "Master… Bel Ti'eva… who-" Gyrfalcon started to ask before his master cut him off abruptly. "Bel Tie'va. A Necromancer who controls a nearby kingdom. The drow was a member of his army, one of their Eddk'Tina. Assassins, scouts, spies, murderers… they do all that and more. His orders were to scout this area, though the reason was not given. Gyrfalcon felt cold- the town he was born in, Muriska, was one of the many independent towns in Terra, under the dominion of no Mage Lord. If the spies of a Mage Lord was scouting the area… "Master… they're going to- to attack Muriska, aren't they?" He said, his voice an equal blend of shock and horror. "We don't know that… but we should tell the town leaders just to be on the safe side. Why don't you go get cleaned up at the stream… I'll place the elf somewhere he can return to nature, and then we can gather and burn the goblin bodies." Gyrfalcon nodded woodenly and staggered off to find the stream to clean up. The pyre backlit the two forms as they walked away in the darkness. One form lingered and stared at the burning forms- "Please, Gods and Goddesses… let the Necromancer leave Muriska alone…" Gyrfalcon whispered before turning and running to catch up with his master. He still had much to learn, and suddenly it seemed much more important… Edited by: Gyrfalcon25 at: 7/11/01 7:22:50 pm

Zadown Storyteller Posts: 67 (8/30/01 1:02:18 am) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dawn sets the horizont to fire and colors the house with warm hues. A few larger dust motes dance in the reddish rays of light, without any background music, in eerie silence. Shadows creep lower, escape to the darker holes and hide behind the furniture, and slowly the stage of the night's drama is illuminated in it's all bleak but puzzling detail. A splash of already somewhat dried blood stains the wooden wall, in one place. The scream has faded, if there was one, and so nothing tells how it has gotten there. Some of the furniture that was upright in the evening has fallen, lighter spot on the floor telling where they used to stand in peace for ages and ages. It is very peaceful here, in one forgotten gateway to the Lost Paths. Nothing disturbs the silence.

Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 63 (8/23/01 6:19:19 am) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Evening is here. The writer sits still on the chair, paralyzed by fear, feeling the enormous house all around him like a beast stalking him; its doors are maws, its darkening windows are eyes. He is already inside it - there is no place to hide. And here he needs to be, frightening or not. To leave would be the last failure he could stomach in his life, which is already one long road of mistakes and wrong paths. He glances at the other pen on the table and shudders. The writer wonders if perhaps this is how it begins, small details, like the evening star, a wrong pen, a soft sound heard where there should be none. He turns to look at the window, both afraid and lured by it and sure enough, it hasn't gone away: a tiny red light hanging in the sky, sky which is so pale yet no other stars can be seen. He wrenches his gaze away and nods to himself, in the dark. The writer looks around - deep shadows, shallow ones, a few old useless pieces of furniture standing here and there, some of them fallen already. Odd mixture of boredom and frightening, energizing excitement surges through him. He wishes he'd brought a watch.

Author Comment Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 60 (8/19/01 12:40:54 pm) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The writer sits on a wooden chair, tapping the desk with the pen in his hand, slowly and irregurarily. Around him, the room and the house look old, dry, used up - like faded photographs, all colors yellow and brown. Sunlight shines through the dirty windows, but does not dare to invade too blatantly; no brilliant lances of light, just an ambient glow. A soft sound from the attic between two tap-taps of the pen disturbs the writer, and he rises his head. A peculiar yearning twists his prematurely aged face. He strains to hear the sound, but it is gone, and a heavy silence permeates the house. It is a hot afternoon. Night is a long way off. Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 61 (8/20/01 12:31:20 am) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The writer writes. He thinks that he has calculated the risks, that nothing will go badly wrong .. but still. There shouldn't have been a noise in the afternoon, not yet. All the books talked of the night and only of the night. So, he writes down himself, his deeds and failures, his current situation and his last will, all in one disjointed story of bitterness and almost-success. A disquieting thought enters his head - what if the books are wrong? He feels a chill and pauses in his work. Then, he continues, a little quicker and a little more nervous. Heat lessens a fraction - the blurry shadows, created by the ambient glow of the sunlight, deepen. Night is still a long way off. Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 62 (8/20/01 9:22:48 am) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The writer stacks the papers, the result of his work, to a neat pile and stops to listen. Sunburnt silence. The colors are already wandering from the yellow gold of the day to the blue silver of the evening - it is still hot, but he can almost feel the inevitable end of it, the coolness that will follow. He rises from the wooden chair and walks around the room, feeling nervous. Everything looks very ordinary, wooden, cheap, decrepit. He fancies he can sense something in the air, already, then he comes to the conclusion it is just his nerves playing games on him. He glances up, towards the attic. The place, just above the ceiling, calls to him. He knows that he will have to go there, sooner or later. Not yet, though, not yet. There are still some hours to go. A sudden sound - the fear of the half-unknown, of the potential and the night, hits him suddenly with great force, jolting his heart, making him pale, his hands shake, all in a fraction of a second. Then he turns to look and sees it was just his pen, falling from the table. He calms down and picks it up. Then he sees his own pen, right there where he left it, on the table. He stares at the pen in his hand like it was some poisonous viper. There are still some hours to go.

Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 61 (8/20/01 12:31:20 am) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The writer writes. He thinks that he has calculated the risks, that nothing will go badly wrong .. but still. There shouldn't have been a noise in the afternoon, not yet. All the books talked of the night and only of the night. So, he writes down himself, his deeds and failures, his current situation and his last will, all in one disjointed story of bitterness and almost-success. A disquieting thought enters his head - what if the books are wrong? He feels a chill and pauses in his work. Then, he continues, a little quicker and a little more nervous. Heat lessens a fraction - the blurry shadows, created by the ambient glow of the sunlight, deepen. Night is still a long way off.

Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 60 (8/19/01 12:40:54 pm) Reply On the Lost Paths -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The writer sits on a wooden chair, tapping the desk with the pen in his hand, slowly and irregurarily. Around him, the room and the house look old, dry, used up - like faded photographs, all colors yellow and brown. Sunlight shines through the dirty windows, but does not dare to invade too blatantly; no brilliant lances of light, just an ambient glow. A soft sound from the attic between two tap-taps of the pen disturbs the writer, and he rises his head. A peculiar yearning twists his prematurely aged face. He strains to hear the sound, but it is gone, and a heavy silence permeates the house. It is a hot afternoon. Night is a long way off.

Zadown Bard Posts: 75 (9/5/01 3:51:54 pm) Reply On the Lost Paths II -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She wishes that she'd listed more back then when everything was as it should be, back in the sun and the childhood, back when it was still a day. Now it is too late, way too late, late late late late late... She can only fish the old words from his frightened memory, try to find a crack in the doom of present, try to find a door back to normality, try try try try... Eyes glistening wetly from tears of angusih in her dark corner she tries to recall... "You know how the shadows seem to move in the dark of the night, twisting to frightening shapes? How the entire night seems to move around you and your bed seems like the only refuge in the world?" Yes yes yes these are the words the shadows they are moving now deeper to that memory, deeper deeper... "They are not always mere shadows, my child, no matter what the other adults tell you. I am not from around here - I do not belong to this land of money and machines. Nobody knows here anything any more, they..." I want to remember know now now know, I need it now! "...the time of two moons. Then, somewhere, where the portals are near and the paths beckon, the guardians wake up, shadows of teeth and claw, and they move around like living things..." Yes yes frightening even then weeks I could not sleep properly asking after moons moons moons, I can see two lights shining outside yellow red yellow red red red... I want them off of my head, off off! ".. and then you, my child..." I can't remember! They are here now moving with teeth and I can't, not not not what I must do? "... and then ..."

Cerulean Quill-Bearer Posts: 28 (9/12/01 9:36:41 am) Reply Re: Alternate Definitions -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I loved these! More please!

Zool47 Elder Posts: 74 (9/11/01 1:36:57 am) Reply Re: Alternate Definitions -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oy! ~Zool~ Elder of Elders, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. Bard of Terra, Patron Saint of Aspiring Bards. Elder than dirt, more foolish than a jester, able to trip over the smallest logic in a single step. It's... Oh, you know.

El Jakob Initiate Posts: 13 (9/7/01 11:21:47 am) Reply Alternate Definitions -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Washington Post published a contest for readers in which they were asked to supply alternate meanings for various words. The following were the winning entries: Coffee (n.), a person who is coughed upon. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightie. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp. Gargoyle (n.), an olive-flavored mouthwash. Flatulence (n.) the emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam. 0yster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddish expressions. Circumvent (n.), the opening in the front of boxer shorts. Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck there. And let's add ..... Pokemon (n), A Jamaican proctologist

Reply Re: A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What a beautifully rendered Image! I, of course, LOVE it! Bravo! Ozymandias the Elder Founder Posts: 30 (9/12/01 4:20:28 pm) Reply Re: A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You're a mage of many talents, Sir. Bravo.

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 166 (9/12/01 12:16:47 pm) Reply Re: A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What a beautifully rendered Image! I, of course, LOVE it! Bravo!

Cerulean Quill-Bearer Posts: 29 (9/12/01 9:39:11 am) Reply Re: A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a delicately drawn, wonderfully evocative piece. Thank you for sharing it.

Yui Temae Quill-Bearer Posts: 45 (8/14/01 10:22:59 am) Reply Re: A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yui smiles dreamily at the images running rampant through her mind and intones in a distracted voice, "... sometimes it doesn't take paints or cameras to make someone see what you do... Beautiful..."

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 15 (8/13/01 12:36:20 pm) Reply Re: A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Gyrfalcon applauds* Very good, Zadown. I like it a lot. =)

Zadown Quill-Bearer Posts: 56 (8/13/01 11:18:29 am) Reply A Sunset -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I can't paint and sometimes I wish I could ... but I can always write... It is a normal evening in the late summer in Finland. Rain has ended, and most of the clouds have gone away, leaving only a few odd ones behind, long trails of mountain-sized jet planes. Sky is steely blue-grey, already fading to black from the corners. In the horizont, above a lake, a massive anvil-shaped cloud blocks the sunset, standing there alone. Only a few fiery rays of violet-red escape from behind it, bathing some random clouds with blood. Under this sky walks a lone figure. He is clothed in black and grey, his pale, almost white skin looking even more pale against his dark clothes. Bald and skinny, a trench coat billowing around him, he is looks like some eccentric monk from an unknown sect of Tech Buddhism on a pilgrimage here in Real Life. All around him are colors: the various deep greens of wet bushes, trees and grass, the rich grey of the asphalt, man-made orange stars of streetlights, winking into existence one by one. He alone is devoid of them; black and white, some shades in between. He goes down a winding asphalted path, glances at an intruding (but dark and silent) motor home with distaste, and continues, past a sand beach, past boats, to a pier made of rocks tied together with wire netting. The man looks around, trying to see all there is to see. Water and forest, sky mirroring itself to the lake, dark trees surrounding everything. Here and there he catches a glimpse of civilization - behind him stands a factory, constellations of electric lights flash in the distance to the right, boats line the pier where he stands. But all in all, the view is mostly ruled by nature. Musing, he does not notice a water bird, and both are startled. The bird swims away, splashing. After a while, having seen the sunset, the man walks away, thinking.

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 181 (9/20/01 10:04:31 am) Reply Necessary Surgery -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hold the scapel Raise the blade Beware of scars That will not fade. A delicate cut? A Ripper's slash? Consolidate power - We'll need more cash. For every one That's starry-eyed Behind a flag A huskster'll hide. So examine close Jingoistic phrase Don't lose the patient Seeking praise. Some for glory Some for power Some for rage Wear hatred's flower.

Yui Temae Quill-Bearer Posts: 81 (9/13/01 9:39:58 am) Reply Re: Necessary Surgery -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yui sighs a bit, eyes downcast. "Well done, Peredhil... I only wish there weren't an event to link it to. Still, it speaks clearly and has meaningful things to say, I think."

Ozymandias the Elder Founder Posts: 31 (9/12/01 4:28:15 pm) Reply Re: Necessary Surgery -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A poet, too? Well. Well done! It's always refreshing to read good poetry that *doesn't* sound bourgeious (sp?). Well, maybe not bourgeious. More like poetry that's emotive, rather than wordy.

Cerulean Quill-Bearer Posts: 31 (9/12/01 2:33:16 pm) Reply Re: Necessary Surgery -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A powerful work about the body politic Peredhil. Cerulean hugs her friend quietly

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 167 (9/12/01 12:41:56 pm) Reply Necessary Surgery -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- sometime you write the poems that limp instead of flow... Dark brooding clouds billow and cascade ashy rain Soundless people crying in inexpressable pain Soulless spiders spin their pointless political plot Deadened to the suffering which they've wrought The Humanity body reacts in distressed shock The tumorous people cheer and mock The cancerous ones spread poison and deceit Hoping to infect, to metastasize and defeat Humanity must rise up and come together Ascending like eagles above the stormy weather Rejecting the infections of prejudice and hate Tolerating differing parts before its too late. Letting foot not reject the very different tongue Denying not horny work hand for straining pink lung Uniting in health, straining toward breath rejecting the hate, lest we all end in death. Edit for grammatical error Edited by: peredhil31 at: 9/12/01 3:37:37 pm