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> Astari Guard, The Tazryl Story.
Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:14 PM
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Chapter 1: Tazryl

A young Astari, or more commonly known as night elf, was sleeping under an old Greater Heart Wood tree, somewhere deep within the Northern Silvest Forest. Laying on the ground to his right was a lumberjack axe, to his left his sheathed swords sat propped up against the tree. The birds, perched in the trees thick branches, twittered peacefully. The young night elf, male, wore a simple green cloth tunic, leather leggings, and arm guards. His skin was a soft peach color, that of most humans. His hair was short unkempt brown hair.

He was in essence both human and Astari. His mother was a human mage from the city of Josody, whiles his father a proud warrior, and was a Night Elf. This gave the young Astari a human looking body, while being blessed with all the attributes of a Night Elf.

Although Astari and Human marriage is often accepted amongst the race’s culture, some think of it as an ultimate crime against their race and should be punished with nothing less then death. It was because of this he had to endure the teasing and taunts of others. These actions often ended with physically violence. As he grew older these attacks increased. As this happened he continued to train with the sword.

A sword in his hand feels as natural as breathing to the young astari. He thanks those who held deep seeded prejudice against him for finding his love for swords. He had been lured into a trap. He was led into the forest, almost a mile away from town. There they cornered him and tried to attack them. He was only ten then. He looked around for some kind of weapon, any kind. The gods were on his side that day; at his foot was a rather thick stick. Picking it up, he held it like he would a two-handed sword.

It was probably that stick that saved his life that day, not that he escaped unharmed. Two broken ribs, his left arm shattered, and plenty of cuts and bruises. But until the very end he fought valiantly in the end taking down about half of the group, which consisted of about ten astari of various size and age.

When he returned to his home; bloodied and moaning in pain and still clutching to the stick that now served as a walking stick. His father, Guard Captain of Whisperdale, and member of the Astari Guard, demanded the names of his attackers. They were severely punished and forced to leave Whisperdale.

His wounds were nothing for a powerful mage like his mother, but magic and healing potions can heal only so much. When healed, he asked his father to teach him how to fight with a sword.

He trained with is father for three years. They trained with all sorts of weapons along with training archery.

On his thirteenth birthday, the Darkwoods exploded with chaos. The Orc Chieftain, Chugga had been slowly invading and taking over territory within the Darkwoods had finally gone too far.
Tazryl was sent to live in Silvest with his Uncle from his Mother’s side. He was a celebrated warrior who specializes in large blades. It saddened Tazryl’s father to not be able to teach him to survive in the wild, but he knew that he was needed to fight.
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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:15 PM
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Chapter 2: Rose Blackthorn.

Tazryl woke with a start, he had been dreaming of the day four years ago that nearly killed him. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. It took him a moment to figure out where he was. Then he remembered, he was supposed to cut some firewood.

Stretching out, he got up and buckled his swords and picked up the lumberjack axe and shouldered it. He walked a bit east until he could see two small buildings, the North Silvest Outpost.

"Hey!" Tazryl shouted as he climbed out of the wooded area. The Outpost was guarded by four guards dressed in mesh chainmail with brown tunics covering them.
"Well look who it is, the great student returns!" One of the guards shouted waving his hand wildly.
"Please tell me you’re here for just a friendly visit," Another one said as Tazryl came closer. Tazryl had often come to the outpost guards, whom have become great friends over the past year, in search for supplies he was supposed to get himself.
"I was supposed to cut wood today, but." Tazryl was interrupted by laughter.
"When will you come by just for a friendly visit?" Russell, the leader, said and then shouted, "Gary!" Then a man came out of one of the small buildings, much shorter then Russell.
"Yes Russell" Gary asked as he came towards the small gathering of the men.
"Fetch our young friend the rest of our firewood," Russell demanded calmly, "Fear not, I have sent our lumberjack to refresh our stock."

Tazryl accepted the firewood and said his farewells. It had been only a year since he arrived in Silvest. Life was drastically different then the one in Whisperdale. Here he was fully accepted, while at Whisperdale he had to be cautious. It did not take long before his training resumed. Uncle Gartlyn worked him night and day. He learned of the various animals and creatures in the world, from Desert Scarabs to Stone Giants. Learned the usefulness of Bloodroot and where best to find it, to tame various animals from the peaceful deer to the hostile brown bears.

While not working or learning new stuff, Tazryl was able to walk freely in the city. Blessed with the Astari’s grace and dexterity and light of step, he was easily able to sneak around the town, learning all sorts of secrets. That Madison, the wife of the General Store’s owner, was having an affair with Howard Capp or that Lord Aelfwyn was planning to strike out against the Kobold King to the northeast a thing that was supposed to be known only to him and a handful of his most loyal knights’. In Whisperdale Tazryl could never have accomplished this.

Life, for the first time in his memory, was good. He missed his mother and father, often laying wake at night thinking about them and whether or not they were alive. Little word has escaped the Darkwoods about the war.

Tazryl was now walking through the forest back to his home, he had decided to leave the lumberjack axe back at the outpost. Thoughts of his life in Silvest were on his mind when he could hear the light footsteps coming from behind him. Another great thing he inherited from his father was the keen hearing. If he were attacked he would be vulnerable, his sword still sheathed, but worst of all was that his hands were full of firewood. Tazryl quickened his pace in hopes the pursuer would reveal them self, and to get home faster. Tazryl lived with his uncle Gartlyn just north of Silvest, half a mile from town.


After realizing that just running would not shake, or reveal the unknown follower, he took a quick left, now heading east, he jumped over the bushes and other easily dodge able obstacles. After awhile and still no luck, he took a right, and dived into group of large bushes. Still holding the firewood tightly, and rolled. He crouched low and turned around to observe, the hunted had become the hunter.

A few moments past before the pursuer revealed them; she was a young women, not much bigger or older then Tazryl. She wore basic leather armor, and a black whip hung at her hip. She had dirty blonde hair tied neatly in a bun. She walked carefully, trying to find a lead to where Tazryl had gone.

Tazryl carefully set the firewood down, then reached for the dagger he had hid in his boots. He looked up at the female to make sure he had not given himself away. Then he began to crawl behind the underbrush, as if he were a cat stalking his prey. By then, the female had started to investigate the area he had just left.

Tazryl continued to stalk his prey, then he noticed that the female was reaching for her whip. She had obviously discovered the firewood. Just before her hand clasped around the whip, Tazryl’s dagger found a resting place against the female’s soft skin.

‘To slow," Tazryl whispered into her ear, "Rose Blackthorn."
"You still use that dull bladed dagger," She mocked, then said sternly, "What makes you think I am alone, and not a decoy?" Rose said, Tazryl cursed under his breath as he turned around, and then laughed.
"You are alone," Tazryl said over his shoulder, but then felt the cool metal of a dagger pressed against his neck.
"My how you have slacked off!" she roared with a triumphant tone, "Have you forgot a basic rule, never to turn your back on an enemy?" Rose said with a grin. Tazryl laughed, she had won the day.

Rose Blackthorn was half human half Astari, just like Tazryl. She on the other hand was born and raised in Silvest, never once had she stepped into the grand forest of the Darkwoods. They had met in the first week of Tazryl’s arrival.

The second they had met, Tazryl knew they would become fast friends. Ever since they met they started an never ending game of and mouse. Both would attempt to try and sneak up on one another, honing in on their keen senses. Tazryl had the upper hand, he had lived in a world where he had to use his keen senses, where as Rose had lived comfortably in the city of Silvest.

"What brings you out here?" Tazryl asked Rose, now walking towards Garylin’s house.
"My mother is now traveling to the Darkwoods to aid in the…" Rose paused and fell to her knees. Tazryl ran to her, kneeled down and lifted her chin. He could see the tears roll down her soft cheeks. He could see the deep sorrow in her eyes, and scolded himself when he had not noticed earlier. She had already lost her father in the war, a strong warrior and member of the Astari Guard. It was a rare sight to see her cry, angry and moody, but never crying. It was only a week ago did she learn of her fathers fate. She cried for days after words refusing to speak to anyone but Tazryl.

"Your mother is a strong and powerful mage," Tazryl stared into her blue eyes, "She will not fall to the likes of an orc!" Tazryl roared as he grabbed her shoulders and lifted her up. She pulled away.
"My father was also strong!" She roared in protest, but then fell to her knees again, she continued to cry, this time louder.

Tazryl once again grabbed her shoulders and forced her to her feet. She whimpered silently. Tazryl embraced her in a hug. It pained him to see her so miserable and could do little to stop it. All he could do is hug her, and hope that she could understand that he would stand by her now and forever.

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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:16 PM
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Chapter Three: The Pain She Felt, the Sorrow He Now Understands.

It was a week after his encounter with Rose. At the request of her mother, who was an old friend of Gartlyn, she came to stay them. Gartlyn resumed her training. Rose Blackthorn was a battle mage, whose combat skills lacked compared to her magic ability. Still, she would be a tough opponent to face. Tazryl thought bitterly as he watched Rose and Gartlyn practicing in the small clearing that his house was.

Gartlyn was a large muscular man, strong and proud, he was a staggering six and a half feet. His hair was a short brown. He was currently using a long wooden pole as a weapon. He wore basic leather armor. Rose, had her hair in a neat bug, also using a wooden pole. She too wore the basic leather armor.

Tazryl found himself staring at Rose; she was gorgeous with a great figure. Although she was a more slender build, she was incredibly strong. It had taken Tazryl a couple of days to be able to stand for so long! Yet on her first day of training with the giant weapon master, she had easily blocked numerous attacks before getting hit. When she did mess up, Tazryl was almost happy, but then quickly scolded himself. How could he think like that?

Tazryl continued to stare at her when the couriers arrived. They stood about six feet tall, wearing the traditional Astari Guard Armor; fine crafted mesh chainmail, with a crimson tunic, each had a steel helmet upon their heads. The one on Tazryl’s left, was a dark skinned Astari, who held a longbow in his hand. The one on Tazryl’s right had soft gray skin, and two swords placed neatly on his hips.

Tazryl was the first to notice them; Rose and Gartlyn were too involved in their sparring match. His heart sank at the sight of the two strangers. He feared this day ever since he arrived in silvest, and his worries were not diminished when he learned of Rose’s father’s death. Tazryl eyed them for a second, wondering if he could just sit here pretend he never saw them, maybe even hold onto the belief that nothing was wrong.

"Foolish girl!" Tazryl heard his Uncle shout. He wanted to look over at the sparring match, but his eyes were locked on the 2 couriers, still unnoticed to anyone but himself. They stared at each other for the longest time. Tazryl could see that the two couriers were exhausted and had sorrow filled eyes.

"Greetings, I am Mazrath of the Astari Guard," The one with the pale gray skin said, "We have come to you with…" He paused. Tazryl focused his vision on him and noticed he was crying, a sure sign of horrible news from the war. "We are sorry to inform you that your father, Captain Sazfien, was killed in the line of duty." Mazrath chocked on the last few words. "As was your mother, Lady Helen." He was prepared to lose his father, or thought he was, but the idea of losing his mother was another thing. His insides boiled, anger over powered all his senses. His scimitars appeared in his hands and rushed head on towards the two Astari Guard. He wanted to blame them for his parent’s death!

The dark skinned Night Elf, pulled out an arrow and drew the bow string back. But Mazrath stopped him. He drew out his swords and engaged the young warrior in battle.

Tazryl tried to jab at his opponent, but Mazrath simply slapped the blade away. Frustrated, Tazryl went into a series of jabs and horizontal swings with his swords. Mazrath eyed the young warrior and almost laughed, his attack was poor and his defense was even worse. With a couple simple parries, Mazrath jabbed his blade at Tazryl cutting both his shoulders. But the cuts were not deep, and the rage Tazryl felt overpowered the pain.

Rose and Gartlyn turned around at the sound of the steel swords clashing against each other, both were fully confused. When and why was Tazryl fighting the man? Gartlyn could tell that his student and nephew was overcome with rage and sorrow, but could not tell why.

Rose on the other hand knew full well why he was angry and upset. They were the same to men who told her that her father died. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she bowed her head, so that she was staring into the ground, watching her tears fall to the earth.

Tazryl, almost unknowingly, planned to use a crappy offense and to show various weaknesses in his defense. His feint worked, Mazrath tried once again to attack Tazryl’s attack but his swords were quickly parried. Tazryl could see the stunned face on Mazrath’s face as he went into a serious of common routines taught to him by his uncle. Soon Mazrath was on the defensive, only with the aid of his keen eyes could he see the whirling blades held by the young warrior.

Mazrath was being pushed back by a mere kid! If his former master could see him now, he would surely have been punished! Mazrath jumped back to distance himself. Tazryl ran after him, just as Mazrath hoped. When he came near, Mazrath sidestepped sending Tazryl stumbling past him. With quick movements, Mazrath hit Tazryl squarely on the back with the hilt of one of his blades.

Tazryl fell to the ground tumbling until he hit a tree. His back ached with pain and his rage subsided. He tried to get back up and continue the fight but only fell to his knees. Standing on his hands and knees, he gasped for air. He could faintly hear Mazrath walking towards him. For the first time, he wondered what the punishment was for attacking an Astari Guard. He heard Mazrath sheath his sword just before he collapsed into darkness.

Hours passed before Tazryl woke up, the sun was setting. He looked around and found he was in his bed, his shoulders bandaged. His back still ached, but he ignored it when he saw Rose sitting in a chair beside him. He could hear her crying into her hands. A sound he detested beyond anything.

"What’s wrong?" Tazryl asked.
"I’m so sorry…" Rose began but then stopped.
"What?" Tazryl asked, but then the days events flooded his mind. His eyes became teary, trying to fight back his tears he said, "They are with Lady Ulthien now… in some grand garden." But he said it more to himself then to Rose.
"You… really think so?" She asked almost hopefully.
"Yes, I do." Tazryl began to cry though. He knew that his parents were at peace with Ulthien Goddess of life, but it still pain to know that he would never get to see his parents alive again. He could only pray that when his time came he would be reunited.

Tazryl patted the spot next to him on his bed. Slowly Rose got up and sat down next to him. He put his arms around her and she buried her face into his chest. Together they mourned the deaths of all those who died in the war between the Astari and the Orc Chieftain Chugga. But most of all, they mourned for the deaths of their fallen family
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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:16 PM
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Chapter Four: Chugga’s Expansion.

The Orc Chieftain, Chugga was not someone to be fooled around with. Even by Orc standards he was large and powerful. He commanded an army of thousands of Orcs, goblins, kobolds and ogres. His reign began with a small settlement north of Darkfell, near the lake that’s found southwest of Gulley.

Chugga had large muscles. His skin was an olive green, his eyes sharp and always alert. His armor consisted of steel platemail and his weapon of choice was his great axe.

Chugga was sitting at his throne in the Orc’s village just southwest of Gulley, feasting on a rather large ham leg, when a messenger barged into the throne room with out being invited.

"Ye dare enter me throne room?" The large orc roared spewing meat from his mouth, "I is have yer head for dis!" He continued to spew food from his mouth. Disturbing the great Orc during his meal time was a terrible mistake. Many servants, even one of his brothers, lost their lives because of this. The messenger was a Goblin runt with a coarse dark green skin, no taller than four feet, his hair thin and brittle. Goblins were not known for their looks, or their intellect, but they were loyal to any powerful creature to no end.

"Sorrys me Lord!" the Goblin squeaked, "Buts I haves greats news!" He shouted, ignoring the angry glared from the large orc chieftain. "Gulley has fallen me lord!" The goblin continued. The angry glare on the orc chieftain was replaced with a grin. During the beginning of Chugga’s campaign, Gulley was heavily reinforced, up until recently was there anyway for him to strike. The Goblin runt would never know how close he was dying, chugga chuckled to himself.

"Good!" the orc chieftain shouted causing more food to fly everywhere; a particularly huge piece hit the goblin in the head. "Our victory is soon!" The goblin left the chamber, fearing if he stayed any longer he would surely be punished.

The large Orc Chieftain was very pleased with this news. Another great victory in the last week! The Astari guard resistance is crumbling, would only be a matter of time before the rest of the Darkwoods fell to their knees… then he would have his revenge on his youngest brother… Targon.

Chugga was the eldest son; the right to become Krog’s patron was his right! Only if he fell, should Targon be even considered becoming Patron! He was off fighting a band of ogres; his comrades saw him fall into the river but never surfaced. After a week after being declared dead, their father died. Because Chugga was supposedly dead, Targon was only one left to fill in the role. But once Chugga returned he was supposed to be patron! But Brother denied his claim!

Chugga left the his homeland, traveled the Battle Plains and joined the Renegade Orcs, soon he became Chieftain, moving into the heart of the Darkwoods he decided to take them as his own kingdom, why be a patron when you could be king!? Promising the orcs that followed him glory and wealth, it was all too easy to command them. His campaign, although remained unnoticed for a long time, had managed to pull an army of kobolds, orcs, goblins, and ogres. It was only after his raid on Darkfell did anyone realize what he had been up to!

Now, with another city in his grasp… he would send his army to Josody in the northeast part of the Darkwoods where he could start building a fleet of ships!
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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:17 PM
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Chapter Five: The Unwelcomed.

Five years had passed since the couriers arrived at Gartlyn’s to deliver the news of Tazryl’s fallen parents. During those years, Gartlyn passed away. Although Tazryl and Rose felt much grief about the tragedy, they knew full well that the strong weapon master was ready for death. He had sternly told them that when his time has come, do not shed a tear, but to send laughter echoing through out the forest.

Around the same time of Gartlyn’s death, Rose’s mother was slain. The meeting between Tazryl and the courier Mazrath was a bitter one. Both eyed each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. The meeting did not end with a fight, but Tazryl noticed a small smile on Mazrath’s face as he left.

Chugga’s expansion only increased over the five years. Although he had many great victories, he still had not been able to capture a new town since the day Gulley fell to its knees.

King Lotor did nothing to join the Astari Guard’s forces. Few human towns even bothered to help with the war, and Targon refused to accept his brother could be the cause of it all. The Night elf and Orc relationship was almost nonexistent. They tolerated one another, but that was even limited.

After Tazryl lost his uncle and Rose lost her mother, they decided they would join the fight. They were trained to battle by one of Silvest’s best weapon masters. Both were formidable foes in the battle field, and Rose’s way with magic only increased her power. They set sail towards Whisperdale on one of the few supply ships sent from King Lotor. It was a week long journey, but they could wait. They would spar against each other for hours honing their skills. Rose even taught him some basic body magic.

"So this is whisperdale…" Rose whispered as the City of Whisperdale came into sight, one of the last Astari strongholds left. Whisperdale was a grand city in the southwestern portion of the Darkwoods. Instead of clearing the area out to build, they built around the trees. Although some trees were cut down to make room, most of it was kept alive. The city consisted of three sections. The northwest side consisted of the bank, City Hall, the tavern, and the Blacksmith where one could buy armor and weapons. The southern portion consisted of large farming area, leatherworking shop, and carpentry store. The Northeast portion of the city held the Temple and the cemetery. Outside of town on the west side, farm animals were kept along with larger farming land. Together the citizens of Whisperdale would work together in farming the land.

"Yes Rose, this is Whisperdale," Tazryl whispered back. The sight of the city brought both joy and pain to the young astari. There he had been tormented, but found his true calling.

The docks were mostly empty; a few ships were being rocked gently by the waters. As their shipped docked, Tazryl was staring at Rose. Her dirty blonde hair was let down, and currently flapping in the wind. She wore magic imbued leather armor. As light as a feather, yet stronger then steel.

Tazryl was wearing his thrallen armor, given to him by his uncle a week before he died. The Thrallen gear, made from the finest Thralenite, was a silver color. He left his helmet and gauntlets in his room. His two scimitars were replaced by two made also from Thralenite.

When they left the ship they were greeted by a group of Night Elves, each wearing the traditional Astari Guard armor. The leader, but the looks of it, stood at the front of the group. He had a light gray skin, and cold grey eyes and a long curved scar the shape of a cresent moon on the left side of the face. Tazryl knew that face all to well, it had haunted him since he was ten. He had lead the group that attacked him… Drenix was his name.

"Greetings travelers," He had a deep voice. "I am Captain Drenix, leader of the Whisperdale Resistance." He said with great pride. He eyed them for a moment then said, "Who are you and what business do you have here?"

"I am Tazryl, son of Sazfien," Tazryl said almost challenging him.
"I am Rose Blackthorn," She said politely.

Drenix stared at the two of them for a moment. If there was anything he hated more than Half-breeds, he would be thoroughly surprised. Oh how he loathed them, he believed with all his heart that Night elves should not mate with anything but another elf… to breed with a being of inferior quality is the worst crime anyone could commit. When he looked at the two half-breeds he wish he could pull out his war hammer and kill them where they stood. "Well met young warriors, what business do you have here?" He asked bluntly. Tazryl could hear the venom in his voice, and by the looks of Rose, he could tell she heard it too.

"We wish to join the fight against Chugga’s army." Tazryl answered, staring into Drenix’s eyes. "We believe that we can be of value in this war."

"I would rather surrender then to let filthy half-breeds serve in my ranks!" Drenix roared. "Your kind is nothing but garbage, hell I would cut you down, but you’re a waste of time! Be gone!" Thinking he humiliated them, he turned around and began to walk away.

Tazryl had become used to the treatment, but when he turned his gaze to Rose and found her on the brink of tears, a flame burned within Tazryl. It was as if the swords just appeared in his hands. With incredible speed, he was behind Drenix in a heart beat. His blades now rested on either side of Drenix’s neck, making a V formation. As his opponent reached for his War Hammer, Tazryl pressed his blades hard against his skin, drawing a neat line of blood. Then, he brought his leg up and placed his foot on his back and pushed with all his might, sending Drenix into the crowed. It all happened within a few seconds.

"So we are garbage are we?" Tazryl mocked, "Then what are you?" Tazryl could hear Rose laugh. Even her laugh was beautiful! He could listen to it for hours and never grow bored of it…

"He has betrayed us! Seize him!" Drenix commanded the soldiers around him. Obediently, they drew their weapons, and came at them. Although heavily out numbered and odds of leaving alive were slim, Tazryl’s actions inspired Rose. She withdrew her deadly whip and wand. While her whip got to work, her wand began to glow a soft red color. She uttered two simple words "Flame Strike," a second later, two of the four soldiers charging at her became engulfed in flames, a third one felt the wrath of her magic whip, the fourth found and opening in her defense. Tazryl, scimitars whirling with devastating speed and accuracy, was busy with three soldiers. He could just barely see as the soldier was able to thrust his sword, slicing at Rose’s side. Her scream of pain turned the flame inside Tazryl into a relentless wild fire.

His scimitars speed increased, easily breaking through the soldier’s defense. He could see his right scimitar would one of his opponent’s shoulders, cutting at it as if it were warm butter. Blood sprayed out as he pulled back the sword, his left scimitar had disarmed the two soldiers. Alarmed, they retreated.

Trying to calm himself, he made the mistake of looking over towards Rose. The two soldiers that were engulfed in flames from her attack were now in the water. The one who suffered the whip’s wrath had deep cuts on his face. The one who had wounded Rose stood over her with a look of pure hatred with a mix of lust, but not the lust for her body, but the lust for her death.

Tazryl rushed over at her and was just able to parry away the blow that would have ended her life. Before the soldier could react, Tazryl plunged both swords into his chest killing him instantly. Tazryl let out a loud roar, challenging anyone to come near his Rose again. But then he felt pain in his back, dropping one scimitar to the ground, he groped at his back to find an arrow sticking out.

The world around him became a blur. He could hear a familiar voice… but could not place it. He then saw a dark figure stand before them, only he had his back to them, puzzled, he tried to walk towards the figure, but only collapsed to the ground sending him into the darkness. But just as he lost consciousness, he saw the figure unsheathed two scimitars.

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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:18 PM
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Chapter Six: The New Master.

Tazryl woke up some time later; he was in a strange room, in a small bed. He looked around, curious to where he was. He looked around, the room was empty except for a wooden dresser, his armor and weapons in a pile at the foot of his bed, and a window, its curtains pulled back letting in warm rays of light.

He pulled the covers off himself; he found that his clothing was replaced with fresh clothes. Remembering his back wound, he quickly reached for his back, but found no traces of a wound. Could it have been a dream? Could he be back home in Silvest?

He left his bed and slowly walked towards the window and looked out. He could not recognize anything he saw. He apparently was in the forest, but where in the forest was unclear or what forest for that matter.

He then walked towards his armor, he searched his Thrallen Breastplate for any sign of the where the arrow had hit him. He only found smooth metal, as if he had not been hit at all.

"You are wondering about the armor and your wounds, am I correct?" A familiar voice came from behind him. Tazryl yanked his scimitar out of its sheath and faced the enemy. There stood the light gray skinned Astari Mazrath. His black hair was slightly longer then when they last encountered and definitely more ragged. "You’re armor has been repaired, seems so wrong to have such fine armor damaged like that." Mazrath moved forward at first slowly, but then faster. ‘You are not really going to slay the man that saved your life are you?"

Tazryl stood there frozen, what was he doing? Mazrath should have killed him for attacking and killing those Astari Guardsmen. "Where is Rose?" Tazryl’s questions were pushed from his mind when he realized he had no idea where she was. "Where is she?" Tazryl roared with anger.

"She is fine; she nearly cried herself dry when she woke up, and obviously thinking you had died." Mazrath spoke in a calm manner. "I was able to heal her wounds with ease, as with yours." Mazrath walked towards Tazryl knowing he had gained his trust for now. He pushed the scimitar down. "Come, you must be hungry."

Mazrath lead Tazryl out of the room, and into a larger room. A round table stood in the center, on the left wall a carpenter’s workbench stood. An oven placed in a corner, to Tazryl’s left. He could see another door on the other side of the room.

At the round table, Rose sat hunched over. A plate of fruits and vegetables rested before her. Tazryl was relieved to see her, but was upset to see her crying. "Rose?" Tazryl stuttered. Rose looked up at the call of her name and saw Tazryl standing there. Her face lit up with joy. She ran over to him and embraced him in a hug. He could have been hit by another arrow and be able to shrug it off.

When they let go of each other, Tazryl could see she was wearing a red dress, that came down to the middle of her shin. It had small straps, and looked wonderful on her. Her dirty blonde hair let down, which in Tazryl’s opinion looked better like that instead of the bun she wore into battles.

"Aww look at the two love birds." Mazrath smirked as he sat down at the table biting into an apple, "Nothing sweeter then young love…" Mazrath continued to tease. Rose and Tazryl shared a moment of giving him venomous glares… when they looked at each other they blushed.

Tazryl sat down at the round table; he picked a rather large apple, and took a big bite into it. He had picked a nice juicy apple. A few seconds later and it was only a core. Tazryl always loved apples, juicier the better. After considering taking another, he remembered where he was. "Why did you help us back there?" he said bluntly. The smile on Mazrath’s face turned into a scowl. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Chugga’s Army is on the verge of victory," Mazrath leaned forward over the table and grabbed some grapess, "and more importantly, those people you met in Whisperdale are on his side." Mazrath threw a grape into the air and caught it with his mouth. "Chugga and Drenix made a deal, to what he gains out of it I don’t know. But I do know Chugga asked him to hand over Whisperdale, the last true stronghold that opposes him." He threw another g**** into the air and again caught it. "To do that, he had to kill the Captain in charge of the city… your father." The fires burned once again in Tazryl, he scolded himself for not killing that man earlier!

"If this is true, then how come Lotor still sends supplies to Whisperdale?" Rose demanded. "Surely if what you claim is true, then they would have stopped!"

"That’s what makes this all the more worse," Mazrath paused for a second considering a g****, "All communication outside the Darkwoods has been cut off. Countless couriers have been sent, but never return. Those who return tell tales of how a band of orcs nearly killed them." He threw the g**** into the air, but missed it. It bounced on his nose and fell to the ground, "We tried sending word by ship, but since Chugga has control of Josody he was able to seize control of the harbor and all ships on it. In other words, he controls the seas."

"Then what remains of the resistance against Chugga?" Rose asked, trying ignore Tazryl’s angry mood. It pained her to see him in such pain.

Mazrath considered telling them for a moment, wondering if he had told them too much. He shrugged it off as he noticed some rather large grapes on the other side of the bowl. Oh how he loved grapes! "Some have fled deep into the forest were few of Chugga’s army could get through. Although now with the alliance with them cowardly traitors, who knows how long before they are found?"

"Cowards!" Tazryl roared, he could see Rose flinch but the rage he felt overwhelmed any common sense.

"Do not be quick to judge!" Mazrath shouted back. Both men stood up, knocking the table over spilling its contents on the floor, "Those men have seen their friends and family die before them! They have witnessed some of the bloodiest battles in living memory. What the hell do you know about war?" Mazrath clenched his fists together. There was a long moment of silence, one which Rose wished would get over with, but was too scared to do anything. "Besides… not all of us have give up, hell not even the ones that fled to the mountains have!"

"Then what are they doing?" Tazryl demanded.

"They are training and becoming stronger." Mazrath said, "Those who fled into the wilderness were not the best of the fighters, so they went to train.

"What have you been doing to help then?" Tazryl questioned, he wanted to know about everything, and would not accept no for an answer. Mazrath could sense this and replied whole heartedly.

"Those of us, who still remain to fight, raid their camps from time to time." Mazrath said, almost savoring the thought, "We also take down any caravans. We are actually grouping up at the end of this month, and going to reclaim Whisperdale." Mazrath found a g**** on the floor; he threw it up into the air and caught it in his mouth. Rose gave a disgusted look, and Tazryl just stood there.

Tazryl quickly moved towards Mazrath, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close, "I want to join," Mazrath saw the burning desire for revenge in the young warriors eyes, which he had no interest to stop him

"Fine, but first I must train you." Mazrath pushed Tazryl off, "Same goes for you Rose, that is if you plan to join also." Rose nodded; she would love to get revenge for her parent’s death.

"We start tomorrow then." Mazrath said as he brought the table back up. Tazryl tried to insist that they should start immediately, but he would have no word of it. They sat in that room, for long hours in silence. Each contemplating what fate has in store for them. Tazryl mostly thought of plunging his scimitar’s into Drenix’s heart. A cruel smile crept across the young astari’s face, only a month before the raid.

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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:19 PM
Post #7


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Chapter Seven: Training.

Early the next morning Tazryl and Rose were awoken early. The early sun was still just peeking the horizon. They were told to wear their armor and weapons and meet Mazrath out side. In a zombie like state, they were used to sleeping much later then this; they walked to the outer part of the house. The house was surrounded by trees on all sides. The birds, somewhere hidden amongst the trees branches, chirped happily. Tazryl noticed that there was a good ten feet between the house and the trees, creating a neat circle around the house.

"Lets first see how much you have improved since last we fought." Mazrath smiled, the last time they fought was the first day they met. Mazrath had won with quite ease, embarrassing the young warrior. "Draw your weapons Tazryl, and come at me with all you have!" Curious, Tazryl unsheathed his blades and engaged Mazrath in battle.

It started out slow, both trying to obtain a good measure of the other’s capabilities. Tazryl tried a thrust, but was easily slapped away, no surprise there. He then quickly jabbed with his right as he sliced diagonally with his left blade. Mazrath’s two blades easily parried them knocking Tazryl off balance. Seeing a clear opening, Mazrath lunged into it, but stopped noticing the feint. Another risky move, Mazrath chuckled. He remembered their first fight vividly and how he had used a very risky move to try and surprise the veteran warrior.

Tazryl thought he had got him again; he quickly set his scimitars into work. He quickly jabbed and sliced his way through Mazrath’s remaining defense. When he thought victory at hand, he got clumsy and eased up.

Mazrath saw this and took quick advantage, he sent his blades in a frenzy attack. Tazryl blocked most of them, but could feel one of the blades slice through his shoulder, further destroying his defense.

Tazryl almost dropped his blade, but quickly tightened his grip, his shoulder burned with pain. But tried as best he could to ignore it. He jumped back words to distance himself from Mazrath, to try and formulate a quick plan. But Mazrath was quick to follow. He stood there in a ready position as Mazrath moved closer. Tazryl had a perfect plan, something he wanted to do for a long time.

Before Mazrath made it to Tazryl, he noticed the sudden in his students weighted. Slowly stopping himself, he started running towards his left. Before Tazryl noticed his change in direction, he had already sidestepped to his left planning on using the same move that was used on him.

But Mazrath was smarter then that, so when Tazryl moved, Mazrath did three quick jabs at Tazryl. His blades found their marks. Tazryl’s blades dropped to the ground.


"Well done, you have greatly improved!" Mazrath grinned at his new student. He loved teaching new warriors to fight. Before the war, Mazrath spent long hours training new recruits. He enjoyed traveling the woods and the world in general, but would rather choose to take a promising young warrior under his wings any day. "Now it is your turn Rose," Mazrath looked her over, " I have yet to fight you, nor have I seen you fight."

Rose took out her long black whip and her Gnarled Elm Wand. With swift, yet elegant movements, Tazryl could tell she had replaced the ruins in her wand. With out runes a wand is powerless. Runes are small stones with engravings on them. The class runes dealt with the Body, the mind, the soul, and Nature. The other runes, assist in the summoning of stronger magic, the stronger the magic the more runes there are needed. After awhile runes will become weak and crumble. Thus the need for all the runes

Rose stood straight across from Mazrath, who had his two blades drawn and ready. Rose began to move her whip, as if to entertain a crowd. It twirled and danced in the air. Tazryl quickly understood this as a distraction. While the opponent was distracted by the deadly whip, Rose would cast a spell. The wand, just as Tazryl predicted, began to glow a soft green. "Flame Strike" She mumbled under her breath. A circle of fire sprouted around Mazrath. She then mumbled "Ensnare’ and large vines began to rise from the ground.

Mazrath was to fast for the vines. With ease, he sent his blades into action and cut and sliced the vines apart. With even greater ease, he sheathed his left sword, searched his belt for some rope. Taking a dagger and quickly tying the rope on the blade, he threw the dagger squarely on a branch above him. Night Elves were very light which allows them to become masters of the night; hence the name ‘Night Elf’. He then climbed the rope and was now standing on the branch ignoring the flames as if they were not there. "You look surprised," Mazrath taunted, "Is that all you have?"

Rose glared up at him, she then said, "Grow" a spell typically used on plants to help them grow. But with some messing around with, she learned that she could enlarge any organic material. Her whip, was made out of a very strong tall grass found around the Silvest Mountains which were braided together to form a sturdy whip. At the command, the whip doubled in thickness and grew tripled in length. She then said another word, almost missed by the two shocked warriors, "Light foot." At first, Tazryl and Mazrath were confused. Light Foot was a spell that made one faster; but as soon as she said it the whip began to glow a soft green and Rose quickly whipped it around as if it weighed nothing more then her normal sized whip. "Oh come on, someone like you should not be all surprised," Rose mocked.

Mazrath was not surprised that the whip became not only larger, but lighter as well. It was the fact that she, a novice, could easily manipulate the magic in such a degree. It often took masters years to fully comprehend how to manipulate magic like this. A grin crossed Mazrath’s face; he had indeed chosen two fine students, both with remarkable abilities. After rejoicing over his two new students, he quickly remembered if he fumbled once, it could prove dangerous. With his empty hand, he quickly bent low and withdrew four small daggers. Without effort, he threw all of them simultaneously with only a slight delay between them.

Rose saw the daggers coming; she quickly sent her whip into action and deflected three of them. The fourth however, found its mark in her left leg; forcing her to drop into a kneeling position. Her wand glowed once more and a thunderbolt came crashing down a the branch.

Sensing the attack beforehand, Mazrath back flipped off the branch and on to another one. The thunder strike was only a foot away from where he was standing. It cut right through the branch as if it were butter. The branch fell, and extinguished the flames below it. Mazrath eyed the young battlemage with caution. Once again, he was proved that she had a great grasp on her magic abilities.

Rose smiled at her handy-work. She pulled the dagger from her leg. She mumbled another spell, a healing spell this time. The bleeding on her leg stopped, but the wound itself did not heal. Healing through magic could only go so far. The more energized the healer the stronger the effect, however the use of combining two spells and maintaining them drained her stamina. Even if she had been all her strength, the attack was to powerful, at best she could remove the open wound and replace it with a brutal bruise. Rose tightened her grip on the whips handle, which remained its normal size, and made her whip do the ‘Deceptive Dance’.

Mazrath looked in amazement. How well she could wield that whip! Mazrath jumped down from the branch. The fallen branch was quickly reduced to a pile of broken sticks. Not only was her ability to control it amazing, but the shear strength of it! Formulating a plan in his head, he quickly ran into the Deceptive Dance. He ducked and dodged the whip.

Rose could see Mazrath come closer. She had hoped he would try and attack head on, what else could he do? Hiding and sneaking around would do little to stop the fierce whip. Mazrath was now only a few feet away. Rose quickly let go of the magic that kept the whip in the giant state. Now it was in its regular size and weight.

Mazrath expected this. A large weapon like that worked great at a distance, but to use it up close would be tricky. He sensed the whips attack, and easily dodged it. But then a voice in his head shouted ‘it’s a trap!’ Mazrath quickly looked around, and noticed the wand in Rose’s left hand was replaced with… his dagger! If he had not noticed sooner, he would be in real trouble. He quickly withdrew his other sword, and blocked the dagger.

A few tense moments passed, but Mazrath overpowered her. Only to be expected… but he could not have been more happy. He may have found two students who could both beat him!

"What a magnificent first day!" Mazrath shouted with joy. Exhausted, he collapsed over letting sleep over take him. He laid there on the ground, with both students looking at him with curiosity, with a giant grin on his face

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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:19 PM
Post #8


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Chapter Eight: The Game of Stealth.

It had been only a week since Mazrath started training them, yet he could already tell that he would fully enjoy this. For the first few days they had spent sparing with each other, to gain some more battle experience. This was also to help their stamina, even the best of warriors could make a simple mistake due to the lack of stamina. Soon they could battle relentlessly for hours.

Mazrath walked quietly through the forest, he knew he somewhere his two students were stalking him. It was Mazrath’s goal to further enhance their already keen senses. He wanted them to be able to come up behind him and be able to place a dagger at his throat before he knew they were even there. The war with Chugga would test all of the remaining Night Elves to their limits.

The rustling of leaves came from his right. A smile crept across his face. He had purposely placed dried leaves all over the area along with other things that could give some ones position away. Mazrath reached for his belt and unsheathed a dagger and threw it towards the spot he heard the rustling leaves. When no sound came, other then the sound of the dagger lodging itself in the tree, he was not surprised. They had plaid this game before.

Somewhere, Tazryl and Rose would intentionally make noises and then quickly evade the dagger that was sure to come. While one made the noise, the other would come up from behind him to try and make the attack. Fully anticipating the stealthy astari, Mazrath mustered all of his strength he could, and jumped straight up. Above him was a sturdy branch. With even more grace than a gymnast, he quickly swung around the branch and now stood on the tree limb. With out even looking, he walked towards the base of the tall tree. The leaves would give him enough cover so that he could easily slip out of his students trap. With great speed and stealth, he jumped from limb to limb.

With as much stealth as possible, Rose silently crept up to her teacher, a dagger in her right hand. But before she could even attempt the move, he saw him throw a dagger towards Tazryl and then saw him jump into the tree.

"Where do you think he has gone?" Rose asked Tazryl who was now coming out of the bushes brandishing Mazrath’s dagger. "At this rate, we will never catch him!" she put her own dagger back into its sheath.

"We could try and chase after him," Tazryl reasoned. He looked all around them to see if he could pick up a clue to where Mazrath had gone off to. "Well we could just set a trap for him when he comes home."

"What do you have in mind?" Rose asked as she saw the devilish grin creep across Tazryl’s face.

Mazrath had now put a good half mile between him and his students. He looked around to make sure he had not been followed. But knew he was to careful. He had crisscrossed all over the Darkwoods, making him almost impossible to follow. Even if he had been followed, he had set up a bunch of traps in this area.

Hungry, Mazrath jumped down from the tree and sat there meditating on what he should expect from his young students. They both showed some intelligence, they had quickly caught on that tricking him would get better results. Both were exceptional fighters, and Rose had a great command of her magic abilities. They both have mastered their senses to the point where they could be seasoned fighters. The only conclusion that came to him was that they were to predictable.

Mazrath opened his eyes, blinking twice; he noticed that it was near sundown. Second day of the Stealth game was almost over. He wondered if he could have been caught while meditating, but realized if they had indeed found him he would have been ready long before they got there. But then again, they were the finest students he had ever trained! He then decided to go home, unaware of the trap that would be awaiting him.

Tazryl and Rose admired their work as they hid in a large tree at the house. They had a perfect view of everything. They had set trip-wires all through out the yard. They intentionally placed some in plain sight; while others were cleverly placed near those. If he did not fall for the secondary tripwire, they had dug and hidden several small holes. When this happened, they both could easily come down and attack their master all before he knew they were there.


After a half hour of running through the woods, he arrived at his small house. He quickly noticed the first set of trip wires, those intentionally left in the open. He even caught a glance at some of the second set. A clever plan, to bad they were playing on a turf he knew like the back of his hand.

With grace, he walked right into the field of trip wires. From far above in the tree, Tazryl and Rose saw their master easily dodge and the traps. They had expected as much, but when he expect the holes? Apparently not, he had just found the first hole. A yelp of surprised left the masters lips. Quickly and silently, both Tazryl and Rose raced towards the Master. Both of them able to place their dagger blade at Mazrath’s throat; all before he could fully understand his situation.

"Well done," was all that Mazrath could say. In all his time of teaching, not once was anyone able to out smart him like this, not within the first two days of the Stealth Game. It could take weeks if not a month before he was out beat. "Now before we have dinner, you should really fix my yard."

With huge grins on their face, they obediently followed his command. They spent the next half hour restoring the Master’s yard. The whole time Mazrath stared at his new students… truly they were destined for great things.
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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:29 PM
Post #9


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Chapter Nine: The First Raid.

Tazryl, Rose, and Mazrath were hidden in the bushes teen feet from a large Caravan of orcs. The caravan was full of weapons, armor, and other resources that would be going to Whisperdale. Mazrath learned of the Caravan from a friend. Taking the opportunity for a training exercise, he would let them know what they faced at the Whisperdale raid.

"Four orc guards positioned all around the camp," Tazryl whispered, "at least twenty soldiers, and a few shamans." Tazryl was given the job to scout out the camp. "This side of the camp has the weakest defense," he continued his report.

"So a good thirty orcs?" Mazrath said more to himself then to anyone else. Mazrath enjoyed a challenge. "Alright, Rose are your preparations complete?"

"Yes, once we enter the camp a wall of fire will seal off our exit," Rose said as she looked at the Orc camp, "But more importantly it will trap them as well." She did not like the sound of the plan. To many things could go wrong, and they could easily be walking right into deaths hands! But she put her full trust in her teacher, she had to.

"Then let our victory come in swiftly!" Mazrath almost yelled it out, but was quickly stopped when he saw the glares from his students. No fun at all he thought bitterly.

The three of them rose up from their spots. Tazryl unsheathed his blades and admired their craftsman ship. Mazrath held out his Longbow neatly nocked an arrow. Rose took out her whip and her wand. As Mazrath’s arrow hit a unsuspecting orc, Tazryl and Rose charged in while Mazrath continued his deadly assault.

Tazyrl first opponents, still shocked, quickly fell to the ground to never rise again. His second opponent, a rather large muscular orc with a battle worn face, came charging at him with a large sword. They engaged in battle the sound of their blades echoed through out the camp. At first Tazryl let the orc continue to barrage him with deadly strikes, each one blocked by his scimitars. The Orc soon lost his energy, his footing became horrible and soon Tazryl’s blades played their dance of death. Weaving in and our with his two blades the orc soon was knocked over. Tazryl and the orc were staring right into each others eyes, all he could see was the emotionless gray eyes. With a single plunge of his scimitar the orc was sent to the netherworld.

Rose, had met one of the shamans in battle. Orc Shamans were skilled magic wielders. The shaman, dressed in its ceremonial white skull mask, and white body paint where bones would be, started casting spell after spell. Rose had never even seen most of the spells it used! She decided the best course would to be simply to engage it in combat. She silently crept around the tents trying to get behind the opponent. The Shaman began to cast Ice Hammer, an attack that caused the moisture in the air to freeze into large chunks of ice, then propelled at the opponent by magic hitting them with a devastating blow, but Rose was faster. As soon as she crept up behind him, she sent her whip into devastating attacks killing the shaman. Rose from the corner of her eye could see Mazrath finally enter the camp. Her wand began to glow a soft red and she muttered ‘Flame strike’ great flames sprouted from the ground encasing the camp. Any orc that wanted to flee, no longer could.

Mazrath continued to fire his deadly bow. His accuracy diminished, more shots were missing the intended target then hitting the orcs. After several moments, slowly making his way towards the center of the camp, he realized that this could play to his advantage. Each shot that came close to a group of orcs sent them running! Everywhere you could see Orcs running wildly, some to try and find an escape, others to try and sink their blades into Astari flesh!

After finishing off his fourth kill, Tazryl looked around for another opponent. What he saw was Mazrath, slowly walking into the middle of the camp shooting his arrows with deadly accuracy. At first he was stumped, he knew that Mazrath had better aim then that, so why was he missing? But soon the answer hit him, he was doing that intentionally! He was preventing them from forming any kind of defense. With great admiration towards his teacher, Tazryl ran wherever Mazrath shot an arrow. Using the chaos that was soon to follow, he sent his blades into action. Slicing and dicing his way through the scared and confused orcs.

Rose had found and killed another Shaman, one left she though. She made her way through the camp searching each tent for the third shaman. Any Orc that was caught in her persuit was quickly cut down by her whip or felt the wrath of her spell. She finally found the shaman in a small tent, he was in a middle of a long enchantment, mumbling words in a ancient language Rose could not begin to comprehend. Before the Shaman even knew that she was there, three quick snaps of the whip and the shaman was on the floor dead. But she was to late, where the now dead Shaman laid, a thick mist began to surround it. Then out of no where a Giant Ogre stood, its left foot crushing the shaman under its foot.


Fear engulfed Rose as she stared at the massive ogre. Its skin was gray and caked in dirt. Its face disfigured with black beady eyes. Thick slobber oozed from its mouth. Towering at ten feet with tree trunk sized body. In its massive right hand he held a large wooden club. Continuing to grind the shaman into the ground; it gave a loud groan.

Noticing that the ogre had yet to notice her, Rose slowly began to step back words. Ogres were notorious for having immense strength and resilience against attacks. She had nearly left the tent when she stumbled. A gasp of surprise gave her away. The Ogre quickly turned its head towards Rose. Instantly, he brought up his club, only about half way, and lets it drop down. Quickly Rose managed to get up and leap out of the way before the earth shattering attack hit her. She spat out a curse as the Ogre began to chase after her. The ogre was much too large for the tent’s exit, and as a result the tent collapsed around the ogre.

Taking the opportunity Rose prepared a spell. Her wand began to glow a soft pink and then she muttered two simple words, "Razor Wind." Razor wind caused the air in a vicinity of the casters choosing, to attack what ever is within it as if the wind itself were steel blades. Blood sprayed everywhere as he roared with such intensity that it shook the very trees surrounding them.

Tazryl and Mazrath had finished killing a small group of large muscular orcs when they heard the Ogre. They froze as they looked at each other, then they quickly looked towards the direction Rose had last seen going. Sure enough, they could see over some of the tents a large gray head.
"Is that…" Tazryl began.
"Yeah." Was all Mazrath could say. Taking down an Ogre was difficult; but by the looks of this one it was a giant! Mazrath would have accepted the challenge any other day, but today was different. This mission was to be simple; prevent the Caravan from getting to Whisperdale. Not only that, but he had two students who had not even seen an ogre, let alone any experience fighting one.

Tazryl was first to arrive to Rose’s rescue. The Ogre, draped in a shredded tent with giant blood stains, began to raise its club. Tazryl ran towards the ogre’s massive legs and sent his blades into work, but before he could do any real damage the ogre had swung its arm at Tazryl. To slow to dodge he took the attack directly, throwing him nearly ten feet away. Pain exploded through out his body.

Mazrath feared for Tazryl when he saw him receive the attack. His first thoughts were to go to his fallen student, but if he was dead then there was a good chance he would lose both students. Nocking an arrow he slowly advanced towards the Ogre. It seemed confused and unsure of which of his students he should devour first. Deciding on Rose, the ogre raised his club over its head, but before he could finish the attack Mazrath and unleashed a fury of arrows. Each one found a place in its thick skinned neck. In pain, the Ogre lost its grip on his club and dropped it. The club, which was being held over its head, crashed into the Ogres head. It stumbled for a second and collapsed tot he ground with a giant thud.

"Rose, Tazryl, are you alright?" Mazrath shouted. He advanced towards the fallen Ogre in caution.
"Shaken, but fine," Rose groaned as she got to her feet.
"Tazryl?" Mazrath asked in a demanding voice. No response. Mazrath scanned the area where Tazryl had landed, and a stab of regret pierced Mazrath’s heart. Tazryl was lying there motionless. Mazrath knelt down and checked for a pulse at his neck. No pulse.
"Is he… dead?" Rose asked trying to hold back tears. "Please tell me he is still alive."
Mazrath could feel a faint pulse, but it was there.
"He’s alive, but just barely." Mazrath replied, "We must hurry if you want to save him."


Tazryl could only see the swirling mist that surrounded him. Where was he? How did he get here? What is here? Tazryl thought as he looked around. He could neither begin to answer any of these questions. The ground, hidden by the swirling gray mist; the sky was hidden by thick gray clouds. Looking around revealed nothing of any worth, except that there was nothing sticking out of the mist but him. He did feel an odd sense of calming here, but could not figure out why.
"Hello!" He shouted out. Nothing. He then tried to rest his hands on the pommels of his two swords, but couldn't. He looked to his sides to only find two empty scabbards; his swords were missing. He then began to check all the spots he kept hidden small daggers; Each and every one of them missing.
"Where am I?" Tazryl asked.

Then he could hear shouting. He could not tell where it was coming from but one of the voices were familiar.
"I thought you said it was just a caravan of supplies!" the familiar voice cried out.
"How the hell was I supposed to know a Ogre shaman was going to be present!" the other voice snapped back.

Then everything was silent. The only noise he could hear was the sound of his foot steps as he began walking. He did not know what direction it was. Everything looked the same. Then he collapsed in pain. It felt like an ogre had used him for a punching bag. His body ached and cried out in pain, but he could not explain why. Nothing had happened to him. Then he could hear a soft sweet voice.
"Please do not leave me, please’ the voice begged. Then his vision went blurry, when his vision returned he was lying down in a small room, Rose was sitting in a chair crying.
"What… happened." Tazryl mumbled as he tried to sit up.
"Tazryl!" She screamed as she threw her arms around him, "Oh you had me worried."

What was that place? Was the only thing he could think of.
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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 03:30 PM
Post #10


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Chapter Ten: Razadar


Over the next couple weeks, Tazryl’s body pained him. Rose had attempted several times to heal with magic, while Mazrath attempted to mix healing potions to help with the healing. Magic and magical herbs can only go so far. The Ogre had broken a few ribs, his right arm, while shattering other bones. The first few days of his recuperation were the most critical and most painful. Tazryl had been forced to sleep to ease the process, but had contracted a deadly disease. It's expected; with the increase in Plague toads, named after the deadly diseases they spread. Mazrath and Rose had to tend to him night and day.

"You must rest," Mazrath insisted, forcing Tazryl to lie down.
"But the raid!" Tazryl protested as he struggled to get up.
"You have yet to recover fully from your wounds." Rose said sternly, "If you fight in this condition you will die."

Tazryl collapsed under Mazrath’s strength. He knew they spoke only the truth; his right arm had yet to recover fully. He turned on his side so that his back faced them, and stared at the wall. The upcoming raid was only one of the things that were on his mind. He had not trained for over two weeks, and the battle with the ogre and how foolishly he dealt with the situation only made his pain worse.

"So I am going to be alone?" Tazryl asked still starring at the wall.
"Yes, we are getting ready." Mazrath replied with arms folded. "We need-"
"I know, you need all the help you can get if this raid is going to be successful" Tazryl interrupted. An hour later they left.

Feeling good enough, Tazryl buckled his scimitars and left the house. The sun was high in the sky, lighting the forest and giving it warmth. After stretching out as best he could; it was difficult moving his right arm. He began to run through the forest.

At first he stumbled on several above ground roots and large rocks. With each stumble he fell tot he ground, often landing on his right arm. After the rough start, Tazryl began to regain his speed and agility. This lasted for an hour before he reached a clearing in the woods.

Standing in the center of clearing, Tazryl unsheathed his swords and gave a deep sigh. Oh how he missed the feeling of his scimitars. Eager, he then attempted a simple maneuver to try and disarm a fellow sword fighter. Pain shot through out his right arm and shoulder. His sword fell to the ground. "Damn" Tazryl mumbled as he bent down to pick up his sword. he sheathed one scimitar and held the other one in his right hand. Slowly he went through a series of motions testing his use with his right sword. It proved very limited.

The sun was now slowly setting in the west, painting the sky full of warm colors. Tazryl was resting in a large ancient tree, facing the sunset. It had taken many attempts to figure out how to climb the tree with one hand, but he managed. From where he was resting he had a magnificent view of the sunset and the surrounding tree tops. Tazryl sighed as he felt the breeze on his face; it was peaceful.

Then the sounds of war echoed through out the forest. At first Tazryl ignored it, thinking it was just his imagination and his desires to be at the Whisperdale raid. Then, it became louder. He could hear the loud footfalls orcs marching, the clang of metal as the proud orcs slammed their weapons against their armor to show strength.

Rising from his spot Tazryl began to figure out where the sounds were coming from. They were coming from the west, the direction Whisperdale was. With adrenaline coursing through his body, Tazryl leapt from branch to branch, heading towards the Orc army.

His first glances of the army were long rows of Orcs marching east. Most of them had dark green skin with snarling faces. Some of the larger ones had thick tusks curving upwards. From what Tazryl could gather, they wore thick steel armor, while some wore almost nothing to show their muscles. Their weapons were quite diverse. Some held crudely crafted swords, while others used large hammers. Several of them had bows with quivers brimming with arrows. In total, Tazryl had counted over a hundred orcs and he could still see more coming.

Tazryl’s mind was racing with questions. Why were they marching east? Could this mean that the Whisperdale raid was a failure? These were some of the more dominate questions.. Tazryl perched high above in the trees, knew if caught he wouldn’t stand a chance against them, even running seemed helpless. Feeling helpless, Tazryl followed the Orc army. For hours they marched tirelessly. Such stamina they had, Tazryl admired.

Then Tazryl slipped. While jumping to another branch, he lost his balance and fell to the ground with sickening cracking sound; he had landed on his right arm. Tazryl wanted to cry out in pain, but he knew if he did the Orcs would swarm over to him. Trying his best to ignore the pain he hid behind a tree; they were still unaware of his presence.

The Moon was high in the sky when the orcs made camp. If it had not been for his own stupidity, Tazryl could have continued stalking the orc army. He attempted to climb a tree to get a better view of the camp, but slipped and fell to the ground. A nearby guard heard Tazryl fall and began shouting of an intruder. Cursing his own bad luck, Tazryl took his left hand scimitar and killed the guard, but it was too late. Tazryl could see the camp come to life; eager orcs wanting to fight after a day of marching were the first to come into contact with Tazryl. Tazryl sent his lone scimitar into work, at first he was doing well. Then a very large orc managed to land a hit on Tazryl’s right arm with a large hammer. Unbearable pain shot through out his body, almost forcing him to drop his sword. Then an arrow whizzed past his ear; it was time to leave.

Tazryl turned around and ran. He had only one advantage over them; he had his night vision. Another arrow whizzed past his face, embedding itself in the tree just ahead of him. Tazryl dodged and leapt over bushes and fallen trees. The orcs did not take much notice to these; they ran through the bushes and easily jumped over the fallen trees. His heart was racing and his breath came in short quick gasps. How long can I last? Tazryl asked himself. Behind him he could hear the Orcs shouting and screaming.

An arrow finally found its mark in Tazryl’s back. Screaming in pain Tazryl tripped on a root sticking above ground. The Orcs began to crowed around him and all Tazryl could only lie there and wait for death..

Razadar was a proud dragon; his scales were an elegant emerald colored. His body was massive; twice the size of the Ogre Tazryl had fought. His neck was long and as thick as a small tree trunk, with a tail equally as powerful. Its wings were strong and powerful enough to allow Razadar to fly. He was the guardian of the forest and created by the Goddess Ulthelien, creator of all life. He lived deep within the Darkwoods forest in a cave. Outside the cave was an illustrious garden. In recent years, since the start of Chugga’s campaign, his deep slumber was disrupted quite often. Only a couple of times has this happened to the ancient dragon, which always meant war.

Razadar rarely involved himself in the conflicts of the Darkwoods, only if things got out of hand. He almost fell asleep when he felt a very powerful presence. It came from a half-breed, part human and part Astari. Green Dragons have connections with all life. Razadar being the Darkwoods Guardian he was overly aware of life. Razadar could tell it was in danger.
"I cannot ignore this," Razadar said aloud; it had been along time since he spoke. His voice was deep and shook the very earth he walked on. Yet it was comforting.
Razadar left his cave and leapt into the sky. He always enjoyed flying; it gave him such a rush. After obtaining a comfortable height and speed, he began to scan the forest below. Dragons had a keen and complex sense of vision allowing them to zoom in and out on objects at their leisure.

In the distance he could see a mass army of Orcs, from the looks of it they were heading to his cave. Then Razadar noticed the army was crowding around something. Using his eyes, he zoomed in to see the source of the presence that awakened him; that had alerted him about an attack he would fear would truly cost him his life. Razadar made a quick mental note to thank the young warrior then increased his speed.

Razadar’s appearance sent a wave of fear through the crowd of orcs. Never before had they seen such a magnificent creature. When the Dragon landed, many orcs fled while others stared in awe. Then the Orc Warlord, the Orc in charge of the army, began to bark orders.
"Archers, prepare to fire," The Orc Warlord was a large Orc with massive muscles. In his right hand he held a large sword. "We lost our advantage, but we can destroy the guardian!" he shouted at his men. The fallen night elf forgotten they prepared to kill the dragon; they had been sent to destroy the Guardian of the Forest. It was essential for this mission to succeed to take full control of the forest.

Razadar was now surrounded by orcs. The closer ones were armored with thick steel plate armor and used weapons that could easily shatter Orc bone. Behind the mass of soldiers stood the archers, each one with quivers full of arrows or bolts laced with poison. Razadar gave a loud powerful roar.
"Attack!" The Orc Warlord shouted and seconds later dozens of arrows unleashed in a wave of death. Arrows whizzed past Razadar’s body, while few actually found their target. Loud clanking sounds marked the hit as the arrows rebounded. Dragon hide was incredibly resistant. "Fools!" Razadar shouted, sending nearby sleeping birds into a panic.

The first wave of warriors rushed in foolishly at Razadar met a powerful swipe of his razor sharp claws. The second wave had more luck on their side. A total of twenty heavily armed orcs ran right at Razadar. Five were crushed by a claw, three of the dodged the powerful claw only to stumble and fall. The remaining twelve orcs were able to land the first true hits of the battle. Razadar roared in pain as the hammers found their mark. It's true that Dragon hide was incredibly strong and resistant, but not impenetrable. With great difficulty, Razadar jumped into the air and began to hover over the army. At first the Orcs were shocked and suprised, but were soon reorganized to continue the wave of deadly arrows. Some arrows found flesh at the weakened scales. Sharp pain fled through out his body as the poison went to work. A crushing and constricting feeling soon wrapped itself around his heart. Breathing became nothing but short gasps for air.

Tazryl, feeling the same effects from the poisoned arrow, watched the whole thing. He admired the Dragons brute strength, how it can easily withstand the poison.

Razadar looked down on the ground, who was now circling the mass group. Seeing no other choice, he summoned the magic within him. Green Dragons are connected with the nature around them. Enabling them to be create plant life even in the harshest desert, while being able to control it. Razadar felt the nature magic flow through him. Oh how refreshing it felt to feel the power!

The ground below trembled violently as thick tree roots sprouted from the ground. The archers' arrows misfired, while most strayed off into the night air a few of them killing their comrades. The Whip like tree roots began to move violently, sending the orcs caught in its wrath into their fellow companions.

Terrified Tazryl was at the Dragon’s raw power. Such a creature would prove more than just a formidable foe.

After the Orc army was in shambles, Razadar returned the tree roots into their well-deserved slumber He then landed nearby, causing many trees to topple over. The remaining orcs that still wished to fight rushed at the dragon. Their attempts were futile; Razadar whipped his tail slamming the warriors hard into an ancient oak nearby.

Tazryl noticed something that the dragon didn’t. Hiding near by was the Orc Warlord brandishing his large battle hammer. Inspired by the dragons' feet of strength Tazryl ignored the pain. Staggering at first, he began to increase in speed and soon was in a steady fast paced run.

The Orc Warlord saw the Astari and faced him snarling in an attempt to persuade his young opponent to back off. Tazryl wouldn’t back down. He unsheathed one of his scimitars and plunged it right into the heart of his enemy; all before the Warlord could comprehend it all.

Razadar from the corner of his eye witnessed the warrior's strength and courage. There was no doubt in the dragons mind that the presence he felt earlier that night belonged to this young Astari. The dragon also witnessed both figures collapse in the dark.


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Knoll
post Apr 1 2008, 04:15 PM
Post #11


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Chapter 11:

Knoll joins the guard.
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Mystic
post Apr 1 2008, 04:32 PM
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Chapter 12:

Kollothemage disconnects and dies permanently.

Anyhow - I love this story. Read it a few months ago~ ^^
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Mazrath
post Apr 1 2008, 06:48 PM
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Well a few months ago there was not Chapter 10 and the ending to Chapter 9.

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Knoll
post Apr 1 2008, 06:53 PM
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Chapter 22x: The rain knocks down the power lines which the Humans recently invented.
Mazrath gets zapped and dead.
Knoll res's him.
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Mystic
post Apr 1 2008, 07:40 PM
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Oh right. I haven't read the last 2-3 chapters. I'll do it tomorrow! ^^
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