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Chapter 1- Things to Come
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Kalanna Rai



Joined: 21 Jan 2006
Posts: 3102
Location: The Frozen North

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 4:19 pm    Post subject:  

Right, here it is for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy...
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One: Things to Come.

There have been many documented feuds between the great houses of Terrinia, but the greatest feud exists between the royal houses of Althur and Maldon, though now Cerdes may be included in this. A thousand years past, at the end of the last war of UnderDark, King Tervis Mallus left Grand Magus Balmural Uthender to die. Upon his death, Balmural, like all other mages of high standing, hurled his death curse down upon Tervis. Although the exact words are not known, it has been surmised that they were something like this:
'Be thou mindless, will-less, and heartless children of the Betrayer!’
Thus, Maldon became the land of the Cursed Kings, better known as the Heartless.
-The History of Maldon
by Sage Dirus Romalffkin

Fallon knew he was dreaming, but he also knew this was no ordinary dream. He was standing alone in a place of utter darkness, and a chill filled the thin air. Wind blasted his face, yet did not even stir the hair on his head, nor the hem of his cloak. There was no light, yet he clearly saw the world around him, the broken black ruins rising up from a blasted desolate plain. A shadowy shape moved through the tumbling columns, which were covered with lichen that thrived even here where there was no light.
"So you've come."

The voice that belonged to the shadowy shape was that of a young woman. Slowly, she became more 'real' to Fallon, breaking away from the background to confront him. Her skin was the essence of darkness itself, her eyes wide and white like those of blind cave creatures...yet she could see. Her white hair whipped like a banner in the wind, and she hugged her rippling cloak tighter to her body, warding off the chill.
"Why have you called me?" Fallon's voice was out of place here. The wind did not carry his words away, but let them hang between them, as they would have in still air.

The woman made no reply, stooping to the ground instead and grabbing the soil in her free hand. Walking over to him she poured the deep black earth into his hands, using her own to close his around it. The touch of her skin was like the touch of fog, ethereal and cold.
"Can't you feel its pain? This little handful of earth is but a fraction of the whole of this world; its pain but a fraction of that greater pain. Can't you feel it?"
Indeed, Fallon could feel it. The physical pain lanced through him, coming up through the thin soles of his boots and scraping across his face with every pass of the wind.

But now he felt something he'd never before experienced. A pain that not only afflicted his mind...but his heart as well. Grief, anguish, despair...Fallon did not have emotions, could not have felt these things on his own. Yet this dying world somehow made him feel these and more...strongly. He dropped the dirt, staring at the dark woman.
"What is this world?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, black lightning swept across the vision and she screamed, soundlessly.
------------------------------------

Fallon found his eyes opening, taking in the rough stone of the tower chamber around him. He sat up, reaching to rub his face, and noticed that his hands were covered in black soil. He raised an eyebrow at the tenacity of the world that would not be denied. He carefully scraped the soil off his hands, and into a small basin on the table across the room. Normally he would have used it for washing, but now he placed a smooth white stone in the basin with the soil. It would take hours before the Pathfinder knew which world this earth had come from...Fallon had little to do but wait.

Walking to the window, he pushed open the glass that sealed it and sat on the broad ledge. His back against one side, the toes of one foot touching the bottom corner of the other, he gazed across the rooftops of the city of Byrith. When he had arrived a month ago, he had been offered an amazing set of rooms in the king's own wing of the palace, but Fallon had turned them down. For a man raised in a floating city in the clouds, living only twenty feet or so from the ground was unthinkable.

Thus he had chosen a tower called Stargazer's Spire for his own, and just the uppermost rooms. He had not brought retainers or servants of any kind. He had not brought a household in wagons, or pack beasts laden with goods. He had come alone, bringing only his kession charger, Carris, with him - and only the few things he knew he could not find anywhere in Maldon. Now, breathing the cold high air, he let his eyes flick over the sleeping city and the palace compound below. A spell enhanced his vision to that of an eagle, allowing him to see even the rats in the alleyways.

Nothing seemed amiss in the town, but as he scanned the castle walls he was greeted to the sight of a darkly robed man who did not belong. He was busy reeling in a rope-attached grappling hook, and glancing around to make sure nobody had noticed him. The man was a mage of high rank and power if the wards of, 'see me not, I am not here' were any indication. The prying eyes of guards had the tendency to slide away from him as if he did not exist. Indeed, one sentry walked right past the man without even batting an eye.

Fallon watched, passively trying to decide what he was going to do. If the man went to the left and headed for the north wall and the homes of the court nobles there, Fallon wasn't going to do a thing. But the man turned toward the tower itself, which meant he was heading for the royal complex and the royal family therein. With a small flick of his hand, he drew a shielding ward in the air and set it in the man's path. A few moments later, through the use of another spell, the man's voice seemed to whisper in Fallon's ear.

"Why do you stop me, brother? You should rejoice that tonight I end the tyrant's line."

"Really? The whole royal family?" Fallon's voice was cold, and he watched the man's expression as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind the tone.

"I cannot leave even one of them alive lest they carry on the curse that plagues this, and every other, land."
Fallon began to smile coldly. Nobody knew why Fallon smiled, it seemed to be the only expression that broke his frosty visage, and anyone who saw it knew it held none of the emotions that usually caused such a thing. Fallon smiled when he fought, smiled when he killed, smiled when pain was present...and yet he took no joy from any of these things.

"I'm afraid I cannot let you go on then." The mage's expression grew pained and he made his first attempt against the barrier.

"Why not? Oh...you're not Xalthian." Xaltha was the mage nation conquered nearly four hundred years ago by the Maldon kings. They were the mages that worked inside Maldon; the mages referred to as 'tame'. Their magical style was as different from an Althurian native as Althur magic was different from Cerdic magic. Now that the man had tested Fallon's wards, he knew Fallon was a mage from one of those other nations...both those other nations.

"No, I'm not Xalthian, but that's not the entire reason I'm stopping you."
The man scanned the grounds, looking for Fallon to get a line of sight. It was unlikely unless he began using the same spell Fallon was. It took him a few minutes, but he did find Fallon and recoiled, dropping to his knees.
"Exactly."

"S...s...sorry! I am truly sorry to have disturbed you, sire! I shall never again defile your presence with mine!" The man turned to leave, taking great pains not to look in Fallon's direction again.

"It's not you...it's just that while I'm in residence, any magical attempt on their royal lives will instantly be pinned on me. Besides...you said you were going to kill the whole royal family. Threats are not something I take lightly."
The man was scuffling away, hustling back to the wall and leaping off. Slowly, Fallon dismantled his barrier and walked back to the bowl of earth.

The Pathfinder pulsed, glowing white hot with amazing colours. Reaching down, Fallon took up the stone and listened to its words. Had he been capable of it, he might have been shocked - but then again he'd already half figured out where he'd been in that dream...the stone only confirmed it.
"UnderDark."
---------------------------

He saw the blade coming through the air at him. It seemed to be hurtling through molasses, taking so much time he was able to watch the sun shimmer on the razor edge. But no matter how much time it was taking in reaching him, Darith already knew he couldn't hope to parry the blow. His sword moved even slower, his muscles protesting the swing with a million screams of pain. All he could do was watch the razor sharp killing edge coming closer and closer until...Thwack!

The flat of the blade landed flush against the side of his helm, creating a booming ring like one of the great Temple bells and dropping him to his knees. He lay on his back, staring in a daze at the swirling sky around him until a bucket full of cold water dashed across his face. Around him several men were laughing a bit and Darith flushed.
"You okay, lad?" His protector, a grizzled knight mage called Valis, offered him a hand up.

Taking it, he stood shakily.
"I see the truth of your words now. I really must take care to make sure there are no ill-mages about when I ride to battle."
Sir Valis nodded, sadly handing the prince back his sword.
"That's why you're around...to make sure that I never get hit by a spell like that." Pulling off his dented helm and making a note he'd have to find the armoury and get it repaired, Darith winced a bit.

"Here lad, let me fix that." Varis pulled off a mailed gauntlet and applied two fingers to the swelling, tender lump. There was a small shock and then lump, bruise, and headache all vanished. "There, much better. I bet we can even finish your lesson now if you'll get that spare helm of yours."
Smiling, Darith walked over to the equipment pile and pulled out a second helm, settling it on his shoulders. Varis stepped aside with a nod to the Weapon-master, Volon, who raised his broadsword to the prince. In a flurry of singing steel they were off, blows exchanged and ringing in the air as today Volon had him practising rapid strikes. These were tough to master with the broadsword Darith favoured, as they required more strength in order to keep up their needed speed. The complex blows required much wrist work, twisting and turning while swinging in order to strike multiple foes.

Sweat poured off Darith as he gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. Across from him, Volon gave no indication whether he was pleased or displeased save when Darith botched something so badly that the weapon-master roared the correction at him. But today, Volon was silent and just as sweat soaked. Darith was getting much better, soon he'd be good enough to move onto other advanced techniques. Sure enough, Darith soon found the weapon-master calling a halt and Sir Varis was there, clapping him on the back. "Well done, lad, well done!"

"Aye, well done m'lord. You'll be an absolute terror on the battlefield someday."
Darith smiled weakly. He knew there'd be no glorious battles for him to fight. After all, the only nations left to annex were Althur and Cerdes...and both of those belonged to Fallon. A sickening wave cramped his guts when Darith thought of his older half-brother. Fallon had arrived a month past, plunging out of the sky on that vile beast of his, and had turned Darith's world upside down.

The man was older than him by eight years, and had taken control of court without even acknowledging them in the slightest. Ladies fawned over him and his surreal beauty, and even a few younger lords blushed and looked away in his presence. The man was perfect. It also had to be noted he could mentally run circles around Darith as well as cast spells...something Darith could never hope to do. That was the downside of being cursed. Despite the Curse having weakened over the past thousand years, it still crippled Darith's will, leaving him unable to cast and highly susceptible to magic.

Still, it was better than his relatives past...babies that had died within minutes because they lacked the will to breath. But seeing Fallon, perfect, fair, flawless…Fallon made him wish that he could break the Curse and gain a will of his own. Trying to turn his thoughts away from Fallon, Darith turned to sir Varis.
"So, are you entering the tourney?"
Sir Varis laughed, shaking his head.

"Not me, boy. Guarding you is enough of a job. Besides that...bastard...gives me the creeps. No offence, your highness."
Darith laughed warmly.

"None taken, Varis. To be honest, he gives me the creeps too. I pity the poor man who gets stuck as his protector." Both Varis and Volon just stared at him. "What...have I missed something?" Varis nodded.

"Aye. Fallon refused a protector last night. Said that we could hold the tourney if we wished, but not to do so on his account. He could take care of himself."
Darith raised an eyebrow.

"Are we to believe that his magic is all powerful? That he can protect himself at all times?" The knight mage shrugged as the weapon-master stopped picking up his things and looked at Darith.

"I don't know anything about his magic, but I know I've never seen a man better skilled with a lash-blade than Fallon. It looked like he was playing with a razor edged ribbon when he was out here practising the other night." Darith shook his head. It made sense that Fallon would have mastered the use of a lash-blade. He was perfect in everything else.
"Now don't go taking it that way. You'll be learning the use of a lash-blade soon enough yourself."

Soon enough wasn't good enough for Darith. Muttering angrily, he stomped off to his quarters where Sir Varis helped him out of his armour. A lash-blade, the deadliest long-sword man had ever invented. A four and a half-foot blade with a two-foot handle made it a long-sword...one of the longest a man could use in single combat. The blade itself was an inch and a half wide and not even half an inch thick. A man had to be exact in his use of them or they'd snap and leave him weaponless.

Dressing in a fine doublet of green cloth with the royal insignia on above his heart, Darith paced back and forth, his thoughts flickering just as restlessly in his mind.
'Why did Father even bring him here? Surely he's not going to actually put him on the throne? Although if we follow the letter of the law, Fallon is indeed Heir to the Realm. He's shown no interest in ruling Maldon...but then he's made no move to give up his title either.'

Darith's train of thought was growing ever darker and more poisonous...highly unlike him. Yet he couldn't stop it for all the world. Every time he'd just dismissed it all as a bad case of worrywarts, the little voice in his head would put another little venom barb in his way and he'd go off again on the downward spiral. Confront him! Ask him what his intentions are!
The thought shocked him cold, making him stop and tremble slightly.

Yet he could not get it to budge from his mind. It would not leave him alone. Somehow he knew if he could actually talk to Fallon, he would sort this whole thing out.
"Varis?"

"Yes m'lord." His protector had been watching him with worried eyes and now swiftly crossed the floor to stand next to him. "What is it?"

"Where is Fallon?" Varis's expression grew wary and puzzled.

"The castle Library, I think. Wait, where are you going?"
Darith stopped. He didn't want to confront Fallon, didn't want to go near the man actually, but it was like an obsession all of the sudden. He needed to go; needed to ask his half brother exactly what he intended to do.
"Are you alright lad? Did I miss something when I healed you?"

"I'm fine, sir Varis, thank you. Now I'm off to see my brother." He walked out of his rooms, ignoring the steward that bowed and opened his door for him.

"Wait, lad! Let me come with you! If he tries anything funny, I'll be on him quicker than fleas on a dog!"
'NO!' The voice in Darith's head screamed. Yet all his life, Darith had never been out from under the shadow of his protector...and now he was going to confront a man who was, by all accounts, the strongest mage in a thousand years. He was torn.

What to do?
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Right Fallon has shown no malic toward the royal family thus far and Darith intends to say things that he will regret later. Should he take good old sir Varis along for the ride? Or should he do something else instead? Hope you liked.
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LordoftheNight



Joined: 11 Aug 2005
Posts: 5276
Location: Hell

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 4:55 pm    Post subject:  

Let him come - it's not as if he's planning to attack Fallon, and having Varis can't really hurt things. He's just planning on questioning him a bit.
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Masterweaver



Joined: 21 Nov 2006
Posts: 1463
Location: Look around

Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 7:39 pm    Post subject:  

F5 Lordy.

Varus happens to be a bit more knowledgable then he appears...
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dinranwen
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Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2006 1:29 pm    Post subject:  

The Willess one intends on showing a will to the heartless one....*grins evily* That could get messy. I say take the guard with you, you may need him to save your life later.

Besides, what can the willess one do against the heartless one if he has no one to act as his will for him?

Greet chapie dragones, if it was farther along and out of this place I would be the first to nominate it for SGOTM.
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Masterweaver
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Joined: 21 Nov 2006
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Location: Look around

Posted: Thu Dec 07, 2006 2:41 pm    Post subject:  

And I would second it.

Though I would perfer one of mine to be nominated...
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Kalanna Rai
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Joined: 21 Jan 2006
Posts: 3102
Location: The Frozen North

Posted: Fri Dec 08, 2006 10:18 am    Post subject:  

BTW if you havn't noticed the poll one is up and you should vote.

Also I'm looking for a good proofreader...anyone up for the job?
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Lebrenth
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Joined: 29 Dec 2005
Posts: 1483
Location: Utah

Posted: Sun Dec 10, 2006 8:49 am    Post subject:  

Too late to vote, is it? I would have been outnumbered pretty bad anyway. I would have voted for going alone. His half-brother may be a bit creepy but he's not aggressive. Going alone would be more personal and have a greater chance for candor. Darith should face Fallon like a man if he expects to be one. That said, if I felt there really was danger, it would be stupid not to bring help.


Nice story, Rai. I think you've found a good middle ground with explaining the geography. A lot of fantasy stories throw in a lot of strange names and never explain them. You've not lingered too long on unneeded details but you haven't left me completely lost either. The dialogue is a bit confusing sometimes because of dangling participles and a lack of labelling. You really need more 'Fallon said' and 'Vallis said' sort of labels just so we know who's talking. It's especially confusing when you go from a quotation to an action being performed by someone else, like here:

Quote: "Not just yet I won't. I'd like to see what's in that message case." Fallon had already taken the scroll out and read it. Now he handed it to his Grandfather.

"He wants me to come." Reading the scroll the old mage's bushy white brows drew sharply together.

I was able to figure it without too much trouble, but it was still confusing and ruined the flow. The poetic flow is disturbed a bit when you have to make it clear who is saying or doing what, but especially in a storygame, it's necessary.

And here's one of those dangling participles I'm talking about:

Quote: The King accepted a jeweled cup from the wine steward that had bustled up and took a hearty swill.

Though we can figure it out, it's a bit ambiguous. It could mean the wine steward bustled up, took a hearty swill, and then handed the cup to the king. They're actually kind of fun to find because they can sound humorous, but they aren't good for your writing.
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Kalanna Rai
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Joined: 21 Jan 2006
Posts: 3102
Location: The Frozen North

Posted: Sun Dec 10, 2006 12:17 pm    Post subject:  

Right I'll go back and fix those Lebby, thanks! Also the second chappy will be up today since I have some free time.

Glad you're all enjoying this...
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