Hey, are your stories available for download somewhere? I'd like to read
through them all over again.
----- Original Message -----
From: "johnny tai" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
To: <[email protected]>
Sent: Tuesday, February 07, 2006 10:41 AM
Subject: audyssey: innocence avenged - an Alter Aeon story-prolog and
chapter I
> The Saga of Stormblade.
> -----------------
> Entry VII: Innocence Avenged.
> ------------------
> This tale contains a spoiler for one of the game deeds. It also contains
> offensive language and violence. Please do not read if you are easily
> offended, or do not wish to get the spoiler.
> ------------------
> Prolog: Revelation.
> -----------------
> Walking into the schoolyard, I immediately spotted him. The young,
> agitated orc was a sorry site to behold, with his bruised face and fearful
> eyes. He was dressed in the vest and helm that were common gears for all
> new
> students, but he had no weapon, not even a pocket knife. Small for an orc,
> the youngling looked up at me with fear in his eyes, and, admirably, a
> trace
> of defiance. I had no particular love for his race. In fact, I had
> destroyed
> enough of them, yet this tiny creature looked so pitiful that I could not
> help but to smile gently upon the creature reassuringly.
> Leaning forward, I greeted the young orc with my gauntleted fist pressed
> to my breastplate, for I had no desire to extend my hand to such vile
> race,
> pity or not.
> "Hail, young one," I tried to make my voice less contemptuous, but even I
> could hear the distaste in my tone. 'Oh well,' I thought, 'He's just going
> to have to deal with it.' After all, he was quite lucky that I did not
> strike him down like I had done to so many of his kind. "It is brought to
> my
> knoledge that you have been wronged?"
> The orcish child looked at me in puzzlement, not comprehending my way of
> speech. He was, obviously, not instructed in the art of High Speech.
> Sighing
> to myself, I switched to more common tongue, "I've heard that you are
> having
> problem with the school?"
> This time, the orc's eyes blazed with anger, and in a winy voice, he
> began
> to tell me of his trouble.
> Hopping up and down, he yelled, "I came to learn fight, they took sword!"
> "Who took your sword?" I asked, trying not to let the winy sound of his
> voice get to me.
> "Human... Bad human thinks he's tough! 'Oh he orc he must be bad guy nyah
> nyah'."
> "I will get it back for you." I said.
> "Oh you human you must be smelly."
> Well, my armor did smell a bit, but I got his point. Not all human
> smelled, and probably not all orcs were evil. In my younger days, I
> might've
> debated the point, but I knew enough to recognize the wisdom in the young
> orc's rant.
> Pointing at himself, the orc said, "Oh he just little he get beat up."
> Anger took over, and the orc went on shouting with a trace of madness in
> his
> eyes. "Oh you old and in mud school you can't get in Mud U haha!" Throwing
> his head back, the orc cackled with insane glee. Stomping about, the orc
> looked generally pissed.
> He was still shouting as I turned and walked away. "I get it back I get
> it
> back and then I'll show him..."
> -----------------
> End Prolog.
> -----------------
> Chapter I: Redemption.
> -------------
> I gaze hard at the leader of the guards. 'I dare ye not cast such a spell
> in the name of thy god, for the spell will certainly harm thy own kind!'
> 'Step away from the human, Sarina!' He shouts, not slowing the weave.
> To my horror and surprise, the young djinni holds her spot, protectively
> before me. 'I shall not allow ye, in my presence, to harm my charge who I
> have just healed!'
> His lips pull back in a faint smile. 'Very well then. For the fate of a
> traitor is no short of death as far as the temple law declares!' Then, he
> releases the spell...
> I see the spell coming, as clearly as I see the defiance in the young
> healer's eyes. I see the spell of harm, and place my own shield before the
> girl's body, knowing all the while that it is not enough... What can I
> do?!
> No time to push her aside, no time to move myself before her, for although
> the spell seems to come at the speed so slow, it is actually travelling at
> the speed of light.
> The scream, oh the scream! It's Sarina, the young healer who has just
> healed me, and oh how she screams! Then the spell hits me, right through
> her
> falling body it passes and hits me with none of its dreadful effect lost.
> Oh
> the pain, it's unbearable!
> Blood... Blood is everywhere. My blood, and hers! I see her falling to
> the
> ground at my feet. Her face, so pale... Her blood's pouring out of her
> small
> body... Why is she still smiling up at me? Red, my vision is turning
> red...
> The bloodfever, it's taking me in, and, I, welcome, its, embrace!!!
> ****************
> Dead, they're all dead now. Bodies everywhere, torn from limb to limb. The
> smell of blood is so thick. My sword, it's so heavy and slick with the
> blood
> of the guards. My hands, they are bloody too. It's what I am used to, what
> I
> am made for... Killing. Yes, I am good at such, but can I protect and save
> as well? No. She's dead. She who has died to defend her belief. She who
> has
> died because I, the last son of Stormblade, failed to defend her who
> healed
> me... No...No...Nooooooooo!!!!!
> -----------------
> "Noooooooooo!"
> "Arise, Master Stormblade... In the name of Dentin, arise!"
> The echo of the scream, my scream, rang in my head, and I felt the gentle
> hand of the priest shaking me, gently but assertively. Sitting up, I
> surveyed my surrounding. Traces of sunlight streaked into the room from
> shaded windows, and I saw that I was in the small chapel waypoint, south
> of
> the graveyard of Thalos. I had apparently slept on one of the chapel's
> many
> long benches. My bones and muscles were stiff and aching, and my face was
> wet with sweats and tears - the memory of my nightmare. I was a sorry
> sight
> to behold, and not many people would've been able to identify me as the
> well-known, harden warrior who was known as The Blade Seeker, if they were
> to walk into the chapel right at that moment.
> The priest, a holy man of goodness, gazed down at me with kindness in his
> wise, old eyes. He looked to be a man of middle age, yet something
> terrible
> had turned his hair white and made his eyes looked as though they had
> witnessed all the pain and suffering in the world. He was just a lad when
> he
> first settled in this chapel, and never was there a man more faithful and
> kind such as he. The horror that changed him forever took place about a
> decade ago. It was an event so singular and horrifying that it deserves a
> tale of its own. All that I'd say now is that many priests had gone down
> to
> the levels that were hidden below the chapel, and this man who now stood
> beside me was the only one to return. What had befallen the rest, he would
> not say for fear of the words themselves would recall the dreadful memory
> of
> those long, dark hours of which he knelt in prayer behind an overturned
> sarcophagus, heard and witnessed the creatures of the night, while these
> same creatures roared for his blood. "Ye are restless, Master Stormblade."
> He stated matter-of-factly.
> "aye," I answered as I stood up and stretched. My wounds had healed while
> I
> slept, or maybe the good priest had healed me, but that wound upon my
> heart
> throbbed like an asp's bite.
> Not in the mind for words, I walked stiffly over to the corner where my
> armors and sword lied and, slowly, I donned my battle gears. With my sword
> and flute case strapped to my back, I turned and found the priest still
> watching me with those soothing eyes of his, and was suddenly overwhelmed
> by
> a desire to fall upon my knees and beg for forgiveness which he could
> never
> grant. "Father," I began doubtfully. "I fear that I have wronged..."
> The priest nodded and kept his eyes on mine. "We all have been, and will
> be, tis the weakness of mortal heart."
> "My hands... They are bloody." I said, gazing down at my gauntlets, the
> mithril gleamed in the thin light. No trace of blood was left upon my
> gauntlets of course, but I think he knew what I meant.
> "And that pains thee?" He asked with something akin to amusement in his
> eyes. "Ye of the follower of the Goddess of Insanity, a warrior who lives
> by
> his fame and skill with arms, ye who laugh death in the face, and ye are
> pained by the blood thy hands hast spilled?"
> "Nay," I looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. "Tis the blood that
> spilled
> due to my failed attempt to protect..."
> "Ah," understanding dawned in his eyes. "We hast all failed one or more in
> our past. Even skilled warriors such as ye cannot save all."
> "Indeed, but for all thy philosophies dost not quell the pain that eats at
> my heart like the poison of a serpent."
> "To that," the priest said sadly, "My only counsel is for thou to find
> ways
> to serve and protect others, and hope that the deeds thou complete in the
> name of goodness will cleanse thy soul. Go now. I shall pray for ye."
> He was still looking at my back as I strode through the chapel's door,
> into
> the golden light of the morn.
> -------------
> West of the city of Ralnoth, on the edge of the small forest, a watch
> tower stood idly on the border between civilization and the wilderness of
> the western plain. From atop the tower, one could see over the west
> citywall
> and observe what was taking place in the city itself. To the south, one
> could survey the swamp and the abandoned castle of the Mad Alchemist, and
> to
> the north, the rusty gate of the city's huge cemetery provided a gloomy
> view. The mean purpose of the tower however, was to keep a close watch on
> the west plain, just encase any unseen threat was to approach Ralnoth from
> that direction.
> The tower itself was a construction of thick tree trunks, bound together
> by heavy ropes. Four sturdy wooden posts were set firmly into the ground,
> and there was a long ladder lashed to the eastern side of the tower which
> provided a long ascent up to an open-air hut, situated at the highest
> point
> of the construction.
> Two guards were appointed to guard the tower at all hours, and one of the
> three specially trained highwatch scouts was to remain on duty atop the
> tower for at least eight hours a day. Due to the great vantage view from
> the
> top of the tower, the highwatch scouts seldom missed any news that was
> going
> on around the area, making them a great source for information.
> ----------------
> After leaving the chapel, I journeyed north from the Great Southern Road,
> past the fallen city of Thalos and the famed Monk Tower, and after a full
> day of travel, I arrived in Ralnoth. The journey was long, but it gave me
> a
> great oppertunity to think about what the priest had said. The pain of the
> failure still clawed at my heart, but at least now I knew I had hope.
> The Southern Road was quiet at this time of the year. Not many people
> would travel in the area for awhile now due to the countless rumors
> surrounding the annihilation of the djinni race. The most believed, and
> probable, of these rumors was the tale of a great demon invasion upon the
> sanctuary of the djinnis', but of course, I knew better. Rumor also had it
> that, after witnessing the gruesome execution of his four champions, the
> djinni headmaster had gone insane with fear and was attacking anyone and
> anything that came into his sight. Well, maybe one day I would have to do
> something about the crazed djinni, but at this moment, he was not my
> priority.
> Night had fallen when I walked through the southern gate of the city of
> Ralnoth, but the streets were crowded with adventurers, thieves, and
> merchants of various trades. Some of these adventurers I recognized and
> hailed, and some appeared to know me, although not all of them greeted me
> with friendly glances. Guards and sentries patrolled the streets, mostly
> mercenaries with rough backgrounds and little skills. These guards were
> useful only in numbers or when facing off with children and inexperienced
> adventurers, but mostly they tried hard to keep out of the ways of
> short-tempered rogues and wandering warriors. Despite their efforts to
> keep
> peace with the many battle-harden killers whom wandered the city, these
> guards were, at the best of times, barely civilized. Thus, it was not
> uncommon for one to come across discarded cityguard's equipments and
> corpses
> in dark alleys and back-streets.
> The huge Unholy Temple of Dentin situated in the center of the city. It
> brightened the Central Square with its many magical lanterns and torches.
> There were many activities going around the temple at all times, but my
> interest lied strictly on the saloon which was located southeast of the
> Unholy Temple, across from the Clerics Guild. After a whole day of
> travelling, I was not going to deny myself of at least a mug of ale and a
> warm meal.
> A big man greeted me at the entrance of the saloon. He was a hand taller
> than I, and was built like a golem, but despite of his great size and
> warlike appearance, Roan was a lamb at heart. The saloon owner had hired
> him
> to keep the saloon in good order, and that he did well.
> "Master Stormblade! Welcome back!" The big man roared and clapped me on my
> shoulder, nearly knocking me onto my knees.
> "It's good to be back." I said, nodding at the big man.
> "You do be seeking ales and a maiden for the night?" Roan said, and I
> wished
> he would keep his voice down.
> "Actually," I said, "I just need a quick meal and a mug for the road. I am
> not staying in town this eve."
> "Ah!" Roan said with delight. "More adventures eh? How exciting. Well, in
> you go now, Master Stormblade, we just got a new shipment of the most
> tender
> griffin steaks!"
> "Um," I said as I walked past the small giant. "I have had your griffin
> steaks before. I think I will be quite content with beef."
> After a satisfying meal at the saloon, I set out towards the west gate of
> the city. First, I made a quick stop at the armorer's place and left him
> my
> helm to be repaired. Thus, with my sword strapped to my back, along with
> my
> flute case and shield, I left the city and entered the western forest. The
> forest was quiet and dark in the heart of night, but that did not concern
> me. Walking slowly, I allowed myself to relax in the darkness. My trained
> ears could hear sounds of small animals moving about in the forest, and
> there was a light breeze that eased my mind of the pain. Reaching up with
> one gloved hand, I trace my finger along the long scar on my cheek,
> remembering all too well, the life and world I had left behind. In that
> other life, other world, I had walked through a dark forest just like this
> one, except I was not alone when I did. My friends, practically my only
> family, were with me then, and twas then that the goblins had lured us
> into
> their trap. I could still remember the rage of the battle that followed,
> and
> the pain when one of those foul creatures brought its runed blade down
> upon
> my face. Oh what I would give to be back in that battle, among my friends,
> but alas, TORA was no more, and I was alone in this world where pain and
> suffer would never end...
> My train of thoughts was cut short when I spotted the watch tower ahead.
> Two guards were lounging against one of the wooden beams, passing a bottle
> back and forth between them. They were dressed in the standard leather
> armors of Ralnoth's cityguards, but they had the look of mercenaries. What
> made the whole situation worse was the fact that they were obviously quite
> drunk. As I approached the tower, one of them leapt to his feet.
> "Who goes there?!" the guard shouted, his hand dipping towards the sword
> at
> his waste.
> "Pharel Stormblade of Blackwind. I come in peace." I answered, walking
> into
> the circle of light casted by their lantern. "I am here to converse with
> the
> highwatch..."
> The two guards first looked at one another, and started whispering
> excitedly in each other's ears. Their next move however, was quite
> unexpected, for they both stepped forward with drawn blades and barred my
> path.
> "What's this outrage?" I asked, puzzled by the aggressive behavior.
> "Silence!" The guard who first spoke up sneered at me. "You are wanted for
> the murder of Lenier the ranger-trainer, scum of Blackwind!"
> A light began to dawn in my mind. These men had heard of the death of
> Lenier the Rangers Guild's master and, with their nerves boosted by the
> liquor and their judgement blinded by the prospect of bounty, they were
> going to try to take me in. No, maybe they weren't even thinking about
> taking me in, for I had not heard of any order for such action. It was
> clear
> to me that these mercenaries would try to dispose of me and just take my
> head to the city council and demand payment.
> "Lenier fought me in a duel, and died a honorable death. Wouldst low lives
> such as ye denounce his honor and call this murder?" I said calmly,
> pointing
> out the true event.
> "Ha!" the same guard spat. "Save your excuse for the executioner to hear!"
> Well, at least I did try to reason, and I was not in the mind to let
> these
> men trifle with my patient. Taking a step back to give myself room, encase
> I
> had to draw my blade, I looked into the speaker's eyes and said softly,
> "and
> how do you propose to take me in?"
> A flicker of doubt past over their faces, but in the end, the liquor and
> bounty won out. Raising his blade, the speaker stepped forward, the point
> of
> his blade inches away from my throat. "I order you to submit yourself and
> your blade under my custody! Now hand me your sheathed blade!"
> "No," I said simply.
> "What?" the guard was taken aback, obviously not expecting someone to
> refuse
> when a sword was being pointed at his throat.
> "I said, no."
> "I will have your blade!" he roared, not liking the fact that he was
> failing
> to scare me. "Hand me the blade, or die!"
> "As you wish," I said, and with a fluent motion, I ducked beneath his
> sword
> and placed my enchanted dagger into his guts. The man screamed in pain as
> I
> wrenched my blade free of his body, his sword fell from his hand with a
> clink. In the corner of my eyes, I saw the other guard hesitate before he
> too joined the battle. With the first guard holding his guts and groaning
> in
> pain, and the second guard's hesitation before attacking, I had ample time
> to replace my dagger and draw the long elven blade from its sheath.
> Turning
> at the waste, I parried the second guard's stroke with the side of my
> blade
> and, continuing my own swing, my blade glided along his and scratched his
> sword-hand. With a yelp, he leapt back, barely holding on to his sword.
> Stepping forward to press my attack, I did not sense the other guard in
> time
> to avoid his trip. Kicking my legs out from under me, the man sent me
> crashing to the ground. Unfortunate for him was the fact that I did not
> loosen the grip on my sword as I landed, and the fact that he was already
> fatally wounded by the stomach wound which I had inflicted with my dagger.
> Having retreaved his own sword, the guard stabbed madly at the spot where
> I
> went down, but I had already rolled away. With my back against the earth,
> I
> rolled on one shoulder and lashed out with both legs in a devastating
> double
> kick which by chance, struck him in his wounded stomach. With a scream,
> the
> man dropped his sword for the second time and staggered back. Sensing the
> movement in the air to my right, I rolled and avoided the thrust of the
> second guard's blade. I spun in a half circle, still laying on the ground,
> and tripped my assailant. 'Have a taste of your own medicine!' I thought
> as
> I rolled to my knees. With one fatally wounded guard in front of me, and a
> tripped one behind, I quickly decided my next move. Grasping the hilt of
> my
> sword with both hands, I put all my weight behind the swing. My blade
> flared
> with its enchantment as it whooshed through the air in a left to right
> diagonal course. The long elven blade passed through the body of the guard
> before me at the waste, cleaving the man in half, and continued downward
> in
> a circle and ***massacred*** the other guard who was just getting to his
> feet. I was showered by a jet of blood as the two halves of the dead guard
> fell to the ground, his guts spilling out in a gruesome display of crimson
> heap. This was not even a battle. This was a slaughter. The guards were so
> overmatched that they did not even trigger my bloodfever. Wiping the blood
> off of my face with my cloak, I stood up and turned to face the remaining
> guard. My last swing did not kill him, but he was fatally wounded and had
> no
> fight left in him.
> "Have mercy!" he cried.
> Walking up to the man, I grabbed him by his hair and forced him to look
> up
> at me. "The wind of darkness has none," and I removed his head with a
> clean
> sweep of my blade. Letting the decapitated head fall to the ground beside
> the headless torso, I started to climb the ladder.
> The eve cloaked me like a shroud as I ascended slowly up the ladder. My
> armor and shield made the climb rather tedious and more than just a little
> dangerous, but I just gritted my teeth and continued on. The wood growned
> and creaked beneath my weight, and as I started to get used to the upward
> motion, I became better at climbing.
> ***You learn from your mistakes and become better at climbing!***You gain
> 98000 experience points!***
> Finally reaching the platform, I pulled myself bodily over the guardrail
> and stood, panting heavily. 'I must be getting old.' I thought gloomily to
> myself as I leaned my back against the rail.
> "Have a care!" a voice called out as I observed a tall man come striding
> out
> of the hut. "Your armor and steels are heavy, your person's stout, and the
> rail has not seen repair for aeons. Have a care!"
> He was about my hight, with slight build and a spring in his steps. He
> wore light leather armor and a white tunic with the mark of the highwatch
> guards, a rising sun, emblazoned upon the breast. A heavy-duty crossbow
> rested easily beneath his left arm, and I saw the hilt of a short sword
> protruding from his belt. The smile upon his lean feature was that of
> amusement, and he came forth with his right hand extended towards me.
> "Such
> skills with a blade! Such ferocity! Ye are a true man of the sword! To who
> do I be having the luck of addressing?"
> To which I bowed and replied, "Pharel Stormblade of Blackwind. I have
> come
> in the name of peace, alas peace was I denied."
> The man, after looking me over for a second or two, bursted out into
> genuine laughter. "Ye may have sought peace," he said, still chuckling,
> "yet
> peace hast never been thy design." Getting himself under control, he bowed
> and said, "I do be called Faerine. Faerine Fleetfoot at thy service."
> "Well met Faerine Fleetfoot, Ranger-commander of the Ralnoth Highwatch
> Guards." I saluted him, addressing him by his proper title. "And now," I
> continued, my eyes on his, "do I come in and share thy fire, or will thou
> raise the alarm and place me under arrest for the death of those two down
> below?"
> "Quoth arrest my duty be, then arrest must I venture." he replied, his
> eyes
> never dropped their amused gaze. "Quoth murder be done, then an arrest
> must
> I risk. However," and here he smiled good-heartedly, "twas the battle had
> I
> witnessed, and heard the words exchanged, and the poor lads didst bring
> themselves the end they deserved. Come, Pharel Stormblade of Blackwind,
> Seeker of Blades and the Guardian in Silver, I be proud to have thou share
> my fire!"
> "Wouldst thou have coffee?" Fleefoot offered as we sat down by the small
> stove in the center of the hut.
> "Nay ye have wine?" I asked, feeling the chill of the night draining away.
> "Nay," the man laughed and pushed a mug of dark liquid toward me. "Tis not
> permitted on duty."
> "Twas not the case with those two lying below." I said, removing my
> gauntlets to allow the warmth from the steaming mug to warm my hands.
> "Some of us," Fleefoot grinned as he sipped at his mug, "do not follow the
> proper code."
> "And ye doth?" I asked somewhat cheekily.
> "Aye," he answered and took another sip.
> After a comfortable pause, the scout looked at me and nodded. "Now then,"
> he said, "Tis not that I do not enjoy the company, yet I've a feeling that
> ye hath not traveled the distance for idle words, so let us get down to
> business, for the night is long, and I have yet ticks of watch to stand."
> ----------
> "So ye seek deeds. Deeds of goodness?" Fleefoot asked after I revealed my
> reason for visiting.
> "Aye."
> "Let us see then," he said, withdrawing a small notebook from the inside
> of
> his tunic. "As ye know, we of the scouts hear strange tales and rumours,
> and
> many of which might lead to great deeds and adventures."
> "Fame and greatness I seek not, just a peace of mind." I replied as he
> thumbed through his records.
> "Here we've a few cases which no one hath yet accepted," he grinned,
> replacing the book.
> "And I shall hear of them." I said, leaning forward to listen.
> "There are rumours of an orc child who hast raised disturbance near the
> Ralnoth School for Newbies. The child claims that he hath been wronged by
> human, yet due to his race, no one hath yet acknowledged the claim."
> "An orc child? Seeking teaching from Ralnoth? This is most interesting." I
> said, my interest roused.
> "Also," the scout continued, "a great fire hath taken place far west of
> here. Rumours tell of a whole village perished in the fire. Look here..."
> He
> stood up and strode over to the guardrail.
> Getting up and following, I saw him pointing westward into the distance.
> "Traces of smoke can still be beheld beneath the blanket of night."
> Indeed, as I peered into the night, I could see snaking shadows of what
> looked to be the remain of a fire.
> "Tis a remote village that hath no connection to trades or royalty, thus
> no
> one hath journey out into the west land to investigate the fire." Fleefoot
> said as we reclaimed our seats by the stove.
> "I think," I said as I pulled on my gauntlets and stood up. "I'll begin
> with
> the young orc's claim."
> As I stood up and prepared to leave, Fleefoot raised a hand. "These are
> not deeds of venture, and might not be of thy type. A warrior of thy fame
> should consider investigating the
> annihilation of the djinni race."
> "Nay," I replied, walking towards the ladder. "I hath just returned from
> the
> djinni territory."
> "Ah!" Fleefoot came to his feet excitedly, "Maybe ye can shine some light
> upon the rumour then?"
> "Rumour of?"
> "Of a great demonic invasion that wiped out the four djinni trainers and
> left the headmaster crazed..."
> With my hands on the rail, I turned and gazed deeply into Fleefoot's eyes.
> "No demon. No invasion. They have been devoured by the wind." Then, I left
> him, still standing, his mouth agape.
>
>
>
>
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