Dark Rising (IC)

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The small dark elf wielded a spear. He was leaping through the air, doing intricate twists and turns with it. He lashed out at his sparring partner, almost piercing his throat. The spear was simply deflected with a sword, the metal clashing, sending small sparks. Kiana raised her hand, calling the battle to a stop. Both dark elves bowed to her, holding their weapons at their sides.
“I’ve seen light elven children fight better then that!” She snarled. This is the elite team I get to take on our raid? She thought. They are children! And know nothing more then how to dance!
“Give me your spear!” Kiana yelled, grabbing the wooden shaft and yanking it from her student’s hand. She pushed him aside, and faced his sparring partner. “Attack me.” She said. The dark elf shivered, stepping away. “Attack me!” She yelled, thrusting her spear at his stomach. He jumped aside just in time, and brought the sword down. It broke the spear in half, leaving Kiana with nothing more then a bit of wood.
The dark elf started to laugh. He had just defeated the warlord! His laugh was quickly cut off as the sharp fragments of splintered wood entered his stomach. He dropped his sword, and looked down, the wood protruding from his skin. He collapsed, slick with blood.
Kiana turned back around to the other elf, and smiled.
“Do you want to spar?”
“No ma’am.” He said.
“Then learn to fight!” She roared. Kiana stomped out of the room, heading toward the entrance to the melee academy. No one stopped her or interrupted her angry march as she stormed from the school. It wasn’t the first time she had killed one of her students. She would not reimburse the family, they were the ones who created the faulty offspring.
Before she reached the streets leading to her house, she was halted by one of the Melee teachers.
“Kiana!” He called, running up to her. He saw the blood on her shirt, and groaned, slapping his palm against his forehead. “Did you kill another Kiana?” He asked.
“I didn’t stop to check for a pulse.” She snapped. The dark elf sighed, crossing his arms.
“We won’t have any more elites if you kill them all.” He said.
“Those were not elites!” Kiana growled, turning to face him. “Those were children!”
“They cannot all measure up to Nauda.” He said. “Those dark elves were not raised by you. As children, they were exposed to magic and all sorts of career ideas. Nauda is only one forced to fight for his life as the age of ten.” The elf said.
“And he killed all the goblins didn’t he?” Kiana asked, smiling.
“He wouldn’t of had to if you didn’t throw him into the middle of them.” Even though the teacher was angry, he felt himself smiling. Kiana always had a touch of humor to everything she did, whether life threatening or not.
“I have to go home.” Kiana said. “It is almost time for the raid, and Nauda must be ready.” She pivoted and walked toward her house of ebony to find her son.

Werianu rested her feet as she sat down in wooden chair near the fire, Peto's sword held in her lap. She looked at the magical blade, running her fingers lightly across the cool metal which ignited into a blazing fury when he became angry. She looked over at the high elf, admiring the way the firelight exaggerated his high cheek bones, making him seem almost like a painting. Her fingers wandered without her noticing and she jumped when she cut her finger on the edge of the blade. Bringing the cut to her lips, she watched as her companion approached her, having finished reserving a room for the both of them.

"You are sure we are safe here? This is so close to Dark Elf territory.. I know you want to get Lyrasia, but the forest is dangerous." Werianu's voice was soft, melodious from living in nature and singing with the birds. As if to emphasize her point, a strong gust of ominous winter wind blew past the small inn, and she was glad they had found the location when they did. Her body shivered at the thought of being out in the snow for longer than they had, her fingers were still numbed.

-.-.-.-

Peto kept his voice low as he spoke with the innkeeper. "I need a room for two, and there is some extra gold in it if you can give me some information on a certain Enchanter's whereabouts." He glanced over at Werianu, his soulmate. Or, she would be if I had a whole soul to share with her. He thought bitterly, turning back to the innkeep. "I need to find Lyrasia Nu'Varess, the Dark Elf Enchanter. Rumor is, she resides in these woods. She has to get her supplies from some place, the Dark Elves' land is still many leagues away, it would be unwise of her to get supplies there."

The innkeeper looked nervous, he obviously knew the information. "I.. I can't tell you that sir. Please take your key and do not speak of Her again." The innkeeper muttered, bowing quickly and then walking away, retreating to his room. Peto sighed. He hated to force information out of people. He would visit the man later tonight. Until then, he would spend the time with his beloved. As soon as he sat down she began questioning him. "Werianu, shh." He put his finger on her lips, his other hand taking the sword away from her. "I know what I am doing. I have to do this."

"Huuuaaaaggghhh!" was the primal roar that Dane BlackHammer let out as he swung his Ironfang into an Orcs stomach. His battle cry was matched by the many other Dwarfs about him as they charged forth against the Orc war camp. They had been massing on the eastern edge of City for a week now and Dane had grown tired of waiting for them to attack. Oh, he knew the titan-walls and heavy defences of the Dwarf city were more than capable of repelling such an attack but the way Dane saw it, this was so much faster.

He wrenched the axe from the Orcs’ split abdomen and watched as the writhing entrails slithered to the floor, followed a moment later by the Orc. Already his BlackHammer honour guard were laying waste to the sprawling camp, setting alight the crudely made dens and toppling the makeshift watch towers. They had struck at dawn, when the Orcs had been heavy in their slumber and now the cursed green skins were paying for it. He could hear them yelping and screaming as their violent dreams were invaded by angry and hateful Dwarfs. It would not be long before the entire camp was awoken; Dane had to make the most of this surprise attack while he could.

An Orc flung himself from a burning camp and brandished a curved blade at Dane before advancing in a fit of rage. The green skin slashed downwards and Dane parried with the head of his axe, catching the blade in the curves at the top of the Ironfang and pushing upwards with might to send the Orc stumbling backwards. Taking advantage of the momentary gap in the Orcs defences Dane leapt forwards and slashed round at the Orc, digging Irongfangs blade deep into the Orcs side who howled in pain. Without hesitation or mercy Dane struck again, loping off the Orcs leg and sending the vile beast to the ground in a heap of pain. He grunted and raised Ironfang then let it drop, finishing the green skinned brute.

A Dwarf wearing the black armour of house BlackHammer trotted up to Dane, his axe gory with Orc blood. The Dwarf looked down at the slaughtered Orc and nodded, grunting his satisfaction before looking back up at Dane and beaming with a mouthful of golden teeth.

"A good kill Dane," he said. Dane looked at the Orc and then at his old friend Bjard.

"Aye," he agreed, "Better than any you could make at least,"

"Oh, is that so?" asked Bjard, the obvious hint of an old joke and a friendly competition in the Dwarfs voice.

"Aye, unless you want to prove me wrong of course?" challenged Dane, and his voice held the same friendly quality as though they had been through this conversation a hundred times over.

"Oh I may just do that, Dane, I may just,"

"Well then shut your mouth and get to killing!" yelled Dane and he set off at a run towards the battle that was slowly taking form up ahead. Bjard chuckled at his friend and set off after him into the fray...

---

Dane tore his axe away from the Orcs skull with a roar and planted his studded boot firmly into the green skins chest, knocking it to the floor where it writhed for a few minutes before finally realising it was dead. The same scene was occurring all about the burning war camp as the Dwarves dispatched the last of the Orcs. It had been a fine battle, thought Dane as he surveyed the burning battlefield, ripe with blood and the bodies of Orcs. They had attacked with thirty of Dane's best men against an entire Orc war camp, which was fifty, maybe sixty Orcs? Bjard walked over as Dane leaned on his Ironfang to catch his breath.

"Are you out of breath already? I could go for another hundred of these bastards!" teased Bjard, thumping his blood slick axe on the mountain gravel.

"Yes, I suppose you could because that would make you somewhere on par with me wouldn't it now?" said Dane and he and Bjard met dangerous eyes before both bursting into laughter.

"Oh, aye, a good battle indeed. How would I ever have this much fun if you weren't such a blood thirsty nutter, eh, Dane?" chortled Bjard, patting his friends shoulder.

"Well someone’s got to remind these damn green skins that we are more than capable of taking the fight to them!" said Dane in a humorous voice, but there was a serious quality in his voice. Bjard picked it out and sobered up.

"Your time will come lad, you'll see! And when you lead our armies into the heart of these Orc infested mountains I'll be right at your side," he said, gripping Danes shoulder and giving him a reassuring nod, his eyes full of sincerity and promise.

"I'll look forward to that day, Bjard, aye I will..." he said, staring into the distance before snapping out of it, "Come, gather our brothers and the dead and let's make for home,"

Bjard nodded and jogged off and slowly the Dwarves made their way home, making tales of their victory that they could tell once they were back amongst their people.

Tialon walked silently behind Kiana, she being the Warlord, something he surely knew, he wasn't a General of her forces without knowing who she was, hand picked himself he quietly walked, a book sitting in his hand, staring at it. A grin perked on his face as he followed, his eyes narrowing down as they usually did, he shut it closed and looked up. "Kiana, killing another one no doubt, I guess they're all weak I suppose, children, to be Elites..." Tialon snickered still following. "Amazing don't you agree, what kids think they can do?" Tialon chuckled. "Nothing.....except your son, amazing one that be.." He said out loud, still following behind her. He was amazed by her brutal terms, she killed several of her students before, not that it was a bad thing, the weak die in this game, something he knew sure to be a fact. Grimacing he placed his book into his bag around his side, still following. "Well I thought that I would comment, our Magical Forces are ready, to be disarmed, I've trained them, most of them find themselves to be pretty good, but you'll be the cause to find that one out...." Tialon snickered. "But I've done my job, be sure of that, though a few of the Students will most likely be killed in the front-line.

Tialon laughed wickedly, he truly loved the art of war and battle, watching others die, he loathed it. Cracking his neck he teleported in front of her turning around, walking backwards. "Oh, so serious.." Tialon laughed still walking in front of her.

Nauda sat quietly, cross-legged on the floor of the private training chambers of his mother's house. He mumbled a small spell, and from the four corners of the room, red lights flashed. The stone totems spit forth several surface creatures each, and they all rushed at Nauda. When all of them were about ten feet from him on either side, Nauda sprung up from his relaxed stance and his weapon was drawn. A quick lunge and thrust toward one Kobold, and the creature was writhing in pain, grasping at the wound in it's chest. 'Pierced the heart.' Nauda thought coldly to himself. He spun and swung at the next creature, a goblin; rivulettes of blood spurted from it's neck. 'Esophogus, juggular, and other vital veins.' Nauda again thought to himself in a cold, calculating manner.

Another minute later, the floor was littered with the corpses of the magickally summoned creatures that served as fodder for Nauda and his training. Nauda brought forth a piece of parchment, with a different spell on it. He murmured it, and a moment later, all four totems hummed and glowed. Their energies combined, and with a burst of energy, a large, club wielding ogre was summoned. "ROOOOOAAAAAAAAAAR!!!" It cried, running at Nauda, the ground shaking with every step. Nauda leapt to one side, as the ogre's club came crashing down. Nauda stabbed into the ogre's leg, enraging it further, and took a few quick steps back to avoid the swing of it's club. "Filthy bastard, die!" Nauda cried, as he rushed right up to the ogre and stabbed quickly into it's stomache and chest several times. He ducked and rolled between it's legs, turned, then leapt up onto it's back and stuck his blade right through the back of it's neck. The beast gurgled on it's own blood, and reached around to try and grab Nauda in it's final moments of life. It failed, and just a moment later, crashed down face first on the cold stone of the training chamber. Nauda quietly walked toward the corpse, retrieved his blade, then made his way toward his personal wash room.

Nauda began cleaning his blade, taking the utmost care to make sure every drop of blood was off the blade. Satisfied, he sheathed it once more, then hung his equipment up on one of the rungs. He then took off his armour, then stripped down to his under-garment. He noticed that one servant had already brought a tub of hot water, and he was returning once more with wash rags and towels. "Here you are master." The young thrall said. Nauda merely nodded, then shooed him away. He slowly dipped down into the tub, then sat back and relaxed, letting the hot water get the grime of training off of him. "Hmm, I wonder when Mother will be back from training... And whether or not her students proved worthy today..." Nauda wondered to himself as he took a rag and began scrubbing.

Kiana tried to ignore the elf following her, and then found herself looking at him.
“I have things to do.” She said, pushing past him. One death was enough for the day. She walked around him, her house in sight. It was a large structure, complete with servants and guards. Made from ebony, it was as black as the caves, blending in with it’s surroundings. Huge stone structures surrounded it, defending it on all sides.
Kiana walked up to the door, the servants opening it for her. She walked into the entrance hall, looking around.
“Where is Nauda?” She asked.
“Bathing.” A servant answered.
“Bathing.” Kiana hissed. Nauda was very clean. “So, he has been training.” She stated. The servant nodded. “We are feasting tonight. The Elven prince will be coming here to discuss our march on the surface castle.” She said.
“Is there anything you want in particular, milady?” The servant asked. Kiana leaned in, grabbing the servant by the shirt and pulling him close to her.
“Everything must be perfect.” She said. She let go, and stepped back. “He will be here in three hours. Make sure dinner is done by then. Remember, the Prince will be bringing the commander of the army.” The servant nodded.
Though Kiana was the Warlord, a commander ran the army while she ran the elite. The elite was a group of a hundred soldiers. The army was a group of uncountable elves, thousands of warriors. Few made it to become elites, for they all had to be approved by Kiana.
She walked up the stairs, heading toward her bedroom. She wouldn’t bathe like Nauda, but she would wear something...classy. Kiana didn’t consider dresses classy, just inconvenient. She slipped on a long black and purple dress. She would keep her sword belted to her waist, and strapped a small knife against the outside of her thigh.
“There.” She said, finishing. She left the room, heading to the Nauda’s washroom. “Nauda!” She called out. “The Prince is coming for dinner!” She said. Nauda would need no further instructions, he’d met the Prince before. Of course, he was only thirty at the time, and quite immature. Kiana almost killed him afterwards, for trying to talk to the Prince without being spoke to first. He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

Gurglok

Five days. It has been five days since ogres settled roughly a mile south of the Castle. Five days of hunting defenseless woodland creatures and eating their flesh while they moaned at the rape of their innocent lives. Five days- all the time it needed to tear the forest down with the ogre's bare fist and use the ravaged wood for their makeshift shelters.

These were ogres. Proud, stupid, but incredibly jovial and content. They didn't need much in terms of luxury to keep them happy- only a forest and it's unfortunate inhabitants. Oh, and a beforestanding battle that would surely end up in a great feast of meat and flesh for the ogres at the end of the day.

Gurglok inspected, along with his chief and advisor, the troops. Most of the ogres tanned their blotchy skin, or ate some blades of grass in boredom. Some had friendly contests of stomach boxing. It had something highly amusing to see two ogres ram into each other and see their bellies flatten against each other. The winner of such a contest was determined by the ogre who flew the farthest backwards.

It pleased the chief to see his subordinates in such good shape, but Gurglok had persistent nags in his mind. Towards the end of their inspection, Gurglok found the courage, and hopefully the most simple way to ask his question, to ask the chief,

“Shouldn't we be, uh, training? We do nothing but, uh, sit on the, uh, grass all day.”
“Ahahahahaha” snorted the chief, “We doo not need praktis. Lok at oos. We strong, we manee! We ween at battel! You weel see.”

Harrumph, went the grumpy reply from Gurglok. He couldn't remain optimistic in these times. The enemy must be training inside the castle, or observing- maybe both. It seemed ludicrous to have them do nothing.

His chief seemed to notice the dissatisfaction his answer left in Gurglok, and pointed a greasy, swollen hand at the castle,

“See castle?” He asked rhetorically, “They maybe prepare. Maybe not. But. No allies, no food. We here, they haf no way of gettin food. We haf Dark Elves. Yoo see? We weel win.”

Surprisingly, Gurglok nodded and understood. It was true that the Dark Elves would come, and that they greatly outnumbered the occupants military personnel. If only that nag would disappear at these insightful reassurances. Nevertheless, Gurglok smiled and nodded,
“I trust you, chief.”
“Good.”


Later in the day, just after of the evening meal, a messenger from the Dark Elves had arrived with a notice that the attack would begin soon. Of course, the messenger only delivered the message, and not voice it verbally. Something in the way he clamped his nose shut, and the avoiding gaze gave Gurglok the impression that he didn't find comfort in their midst.

Though, this seemed a great opportunity to investigate on the military strength that the Dark Elves would send their way. While the chief planned a terrific party for the night, involving many more innocent woodland creatures, Gurglok made his way out of camp and tried to catch up with the messenger. Said messenger resided just off the side of the road- a pause he made to enjoy his own meal. Said meal was then sadly dispensed in anger, and disgust. at the sight of a bumbling ogre.

The conversation went as smooth as could be hoped for.
“What do you want?”
“I really should get going.”
“Stop following me!”
“Alright, what does it take for you to leave me the hell alone?”
“Fine, I will tell you what I know. Just please get away from me before I slit you open! The great fighter Nauda and his master are going to join the battle, so you have nothing at all to fear you stupid ogre! The raid is planned to go smooth and easy, without many casualties for my race.”

With that, Gurglok stopped trailing behind the Dark Elf and left him to be on his own. He had what he wanted, and this information he needed to pass on immediately to the chief. Hopefully, it would spur him on to do something- he heard the animosity in the elf's voice, and the slight wish for their misfortune in battle.

Maybe, he thought, the ogres shouldn't help when the time arrives...

Werianu smiled, though it as tinged a bit with sadness. "Sometimes I wonder who you care more about, Peto. That Dark elf," the race came out of her mouth tinged with anger and hatred, "or me." She knew it was silly to think that Peto could still care for the vixen, but she longed for him the think of her for hours of the day, instead of how to get back the necklace. She leaned away from his hand, watching the fire glow in the stone fireplace, the flames licking constantly up, hungering for more oxygen, for, like all life, it would die without it.

Werianu rose from the chair and held out her hand. "Give me the key so I can get our stuff up to the room." She said, adjusting her cloak with her other hand. "You stay down here a few more minutes by the fire, your nose is still amost blue." She laughed softly, taking the key from her Knight and then kissing his cheek, walking up stairs carrying his helmet, her staff, and the small sack filled with various traveling items.

-.-.-.-.-

Peto watched Werianu dance away carrying most of their items using her strength spell, and couldn't help but smile despite the sting of the words she had just uttered. It killed him inside, but he had to admit, his urge to get back at the dark elf was stronger than his urge to settle down with Werianu.

He sighed and looked deep into the fire, trying to find some answers, before hearing another person join him in the chair Werianu had been occupying. "There is a castle, about three days walk from here, it's a safe place for now, but it's much closer to the Dark Elves' territory. You may meet an Ogre or a couple orcs, but just go to the castle. I'm sure someone there will know more about this... Enchanter you are looking for. I cannot tell you any more than this." Peto smiled wickedly as the innkeeper walked quickly away, after locking the front door and making sure the windows were all securely shut.

“Nauda!” Kiana cried out, as Nauda got off one particularly dark piece of grime, “The Prince is coming for dinner!” Nauda shut his eyes and sighed. He lay back a bit, letting the rag float about in the tub. "By the Dark Queen, why does that pompous son of a whore have to 'grace' us with his presence?" Nauda detested the Prince, and most of the Dark Royal House; he felt that HE should be prince, with his Mother being the figure head of the Dark Ones as Queen. 'With her guidance, and my combative skills, we truely could lead our nation to victory... But these ones, they are sometimes too slow to act... Perhaps they've spent too much time down here in the caves, instead of actually fighting our enemies like Mother and the others do...' Nauda dismissed his thoughts at that point, knowing that out of formality he must get ready and be presentable when the prince arrived.

After thoroughly bathing, Nauda got out and wrapped a towel about himself. A short walk down the hall and he was in his chambers. He picked out new clothes for the evening; a pair of polished black boots, and a set of matching breeches and tunic, which were primarily black with deep hues of purple adorning them. As he was putting the breeches on, there was a knock at his door. "Hold for a moment." Nauda said, tying his breeches and answering his door. Another young thrall, a young girl. She held his sword and belts, and looked him up and down for the shortest moment, before blushing and bowing her head. "Here are your things, Master." Nauda grasped his things from her and said, "Thank you precious." Nauda smiled at her, as he started shutting the door and she scurried off. Nauda had a thing for sometimes getting 'close' to the servant staff; his Mother did not approve, saying getting close to someone in such close proximity was an un-needed risk. But, in Nauda's mind, it was to each his own.

After dressing, and belting his sword around his waist, Nauda set out toward his Mother's room, where she'd be getting ready. Her door was open, but Nauda knocked to let her know of his arrival. "Mother, when will we be marching upon the surface? I've grown so tired of merel training and sparring, both me and my blade thirst for the blood of the Light ones.. And honestly, do we really have to have the Prince over this eve? You and I both know that bastard is dull-witted compared to me... I say we take him tonight, and set ourselves up as the Royal House..." Nauda smiled at his Mother as he said this; he said this same plan to her every time she mentioned him, or he was invited over, or he invited himself over. Sometimes Mother brushed it off as nothing, sometimes she almost sounded like she agreed, and still other times she got angry with Nauda, saying he shouldn't say such things so loud...

The gates of Khaz'Noria, great Dwarf city of the Northern Mountains, towered above Dane as he admired them. There were many joked about why Dwarfs constructed such vast structures, ("What are they trying to compensate for?") but Dane would challenge any Man, Orc or Elf to try and build something as massive and mechanically perfect as a Dwarf could. Dwarves were the masters of architecture and the forge, no race could best the skills of Dwarves in the heat of the furnace or on the towering scaffolds of mighty statues and forts. Let the Elves have their winding and fragile tree houses, let men build their golden temples to deaf Gods but for all their seemingly wondrous appearances they lacked the intricacy and beautiful practicality that that a Dwarven construction held. The cities of other races were easily toppled but not a Dwarven stronghold, oh no, not these mountainous walls and thick towers.

There was a creaking noise and a smaller, hidden door in the looming gates cracked open. It was no taller than a Dwarf and would warrant no attention from invading forces. An armoured guard heaved on a lever and the thick door was pulled inwards and to the side. Dane walked in through the portal and the Guard thudded his breast plate as he entered the city walls, Dane returned the greeting and walked out on to the raised terrace that overlooked a plaza surrounded by sturdy stone arches and towering spires. At the centre was a statue of a noble looking Dwarf standing on the body of a massive Ogre. Dane smiled at the familiar sight and walked down the steps into the plaza, his troops spreading out behind him.

"Alright boys! Wash up and head to the breweries!" roared Bjard, hefting his axe into the air. The BlackHammer honour guard cheered and set off towards their homes, "It always feels better coming home after you've kicked the crap out of a load of Orc scum doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does," sighed Dane and walked up to the statue and looked up at it. Bjard sighed heavily.

"What's wrong boy? Did we not just defend our homes from that rabble of mindless Orcs?" Dane turned round and looked at his old friend with solemn eyes.

"Aye we did," agreed Dane.

"Then what's wrong?"

"It doesn't feel like we've gotten anywhere, Bjard, we killed fifty, maybe sixty Orcs but to them that is nothing. I feel like there is a greater threat out there and we need to be fighting that! Not Orc raiding parties..." said Dane, leaning heavily on the Statues base. Bjard rested a hand on his friends shoulder, feeling his troubles.

"I know what ye mean lad, I really do," he said and Dane looked up at him.

"Do you?"

"No," said Bjard, nodding to himself, "But you can tell me all about it over a pint at the brewery,"

"Sounds good," laughed Dane and they set off through the mighty city towards the BlackHammer manor.

---

"An' then I killed five Orcs in one swipe! I swear I did! Then one knocked me axe away so I str-str-strangled the bast'ad with me bare hands!" roared a drunken Dwarf as he acted out his battle earlier this day on top of a wide wooden table to the cheers and laughter of his brethren as they quaffed on their tankards of ale.

Dane chuckled and turned back to his own tankard, form which he took a hearty gulp. Bjard walked over with two Tankards in his thick hands and sat down opposite Dane, he was beaming wildly, the obvious signs of a tad too much ale.

"I see you brought me another one!" shouted Dane over the noise of the brewery. Bjard looked taken aback and hugged his Tankards.

"Get yer own ye bastard! These are mine!" he said offended and Dane broke into a fit of laughter.

The door to the pub cracked open and the cold sunlight of the mountains invaded the dark, cosy shadows of the lantern lit brewery. No one payed it much heed, except Dane, who watched as a Dwarf in official military robes entered and sidled his way along the wall; apparently looking for someone. His beedy eyes fell upon Dane and his face lit up in that way people’s faces do when they want to attract someone’s attention from far away. Dane sighed and kicked a chair out for the approaching Dwarf; being royalty often sucked in the way that you could hardly ever be left alone.

The Dwarf sat down and Dane recognised him as Yarn'd Deepforge, one of the Cities military Officials.

"Come for a drink Yarn'd?" asked Dane in a friendly tone, knowing that wasn't the reason.

"Alas no Dane, I've come to ask of ye something," he said through his jet black beard and Dane's curiousity peaked.

"An' what would that be?" he asked and he couldn't keep his curiosity from shining through.

"A quest, young BlackHammer, a quest into the lands of men," he said, and he spoke with the promise of battle and much glory. Dane sat upright and even Bjard stopped drinking.

"Go on,"

"Aye well, the men in the Castle South of here have got a little bit of a problem with Ogres, see? Coming in from the forests," explained Yarn'd.

"And they can't deal with that themselves?" asked Bjard,

"Oh aye they can, but now they've been hearin' o' strange rumours. Rumours of Dark Elves appearing more frequently above ground,"

"Dark Elves," growled Bjard and Dane could relate to the venom in his voice. The Dwarves and the Elves had enough problems as it were in this uneasy alliance, but Dark Elves were a whole other story.

"They think the Dark Elves are rallying for an invasion then? And their Castle to the South is the first target?" asked Dane, but it was more like he was making it clear in his own head.

"Precisely, they've called for aid and the military order has decided that Khaz'Noria will go their aid and honour the alliance!" said Yarn'd and thumped the table, his glee palpable.

"I suppose ye want the BlackHammer Honour Guard then?" asked Dane suspiciously.

"No lad, we have all the troops we need,"

"Then what is it you want?" asked Dane, his heart rising.

"We want you, yer ideas of a crusade to cleanse the mountains of the Orc filth has not fallen unheard with the Order," said Yarn's, desperation lining the syllables of his words, "If you join us and show your leadership skills you may just get yer very own army to lead into those mountains!"

"We'll do it!" roared Bjard before Dane even had a chance to reply, banging his tankard on the table as though he was a judge and his word was final. Dane nodded.

"Aye, we'll come with ye! We'll show those humans how Dwarfs fight!"

Kiana laughed at her son's ideas. She was just finishing her hair, which was piled on top of her head. Small gems were present in the black strands.
"How do I look?" She asked, standing and twirling for him. Her eye caught the mirror and she raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Pretty damn good, if you ask me." She said to no one in particular. She then turned to her son, to address the problems at hand.
"My dear, the Prince and the Commander are coming here to speak about the raid you have been itching for. Isn't that what you want?" She knew he didn't like the Prince, but the Commander was another story. Even if Nauda had respect for the elf, Kiana thought he longed for the Commander's position. His own army? It was exciting, Kiana knew. She had ran that same army herself, and wrecked much havoc with it.
Kiana was in too good of a mood to become angry again. Even though she didn't show it, she longed for the Prince to come over. If he showed interest in her, her power would become unlimited. And then, one day, Nauda's dream would come true. But first, Kiana had to learn the rules of politics and back away from the blade. Then Nauda could be the Warlord, and she the Queen.
"Be careful my son." Kiana said, walking toward him. "You don't want him to hear of your plans. You look nice, by the way." She straightened his shirt. "There. He will be here within the hour. Let's go down and wait for him." She smiled and walked past her son, heading for the main entrance hall of her beautiful home.

Tialon awaited outside for the Commander, yawning, he being a General kept his eyes out for Politcal War and such, even though he somewhat didn't fancy it, always talking about doing something, he was more of a straight-forward type of person anyway. He stood there awaiting, not moving till the Commander arrived, also hearing the Prince would be with them. In the mean time he leaned along a gate in front of the Warlords home, reading silently. At this time he was in open view, even the Warlord could see him, anyone could see him, just how he liked it. He began to wonder when the next battle would come, something he found of interest, he loved the lust of war, and the taste of blood on his lips. He just smiled, not able to clench his thirst for war. Finally he shut his book, jumping over a wall towards their home. He scowled, deciding to stalk around, and see how long it too Kiana to find him. Smiling he kept walking, until finally he sat down directly near their door, just lingering around, finally he whispered something, and it began to rain. He just chuckled.

Early morning sunshine arched down into the stone chamber from the tall window, illuminating the large round bed on which Dane lay sprawled amongst fur covers, his armour placed aside after having been washed and polished from the battle the other morning. After that it had been a long day; after the proposition had been made to Dane he and Bjard left the party (Which probably lasted all day even after the two left) to began preparing for the journey the next day. Next to his armour, which was propped up on its rack along with his weapons, a large backpack sat. Within it were a large assortment of items; food, drink, money, clothing, rope and all the other essentials he would need for the four day journey to the Castle on the plains to the South. They would be travelling with a troop of fifty Dwarfs; all soldiers of the finest quality.

Dane stirred and blinked awake, yawning and stretching. He sat up groggily and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, groaning at the pain from a bruise on his side that he had earned in the fighting the other day, between the battle adrenaline and the ale he hadn't noticed it. He pulled himself out of bed and pushed his way past a thick oak door into a spacey room that was filled with the sound of running water. Before the Dwarf was a big, round pool dug into the stone that was fed from a decorative waterfall at the other side of the wall. When the Dwarfs built their Stronghold City they had seen a great need for supplies, such as clean drinking and bathing water, that couldn't be cut off or strangled if they were ever under siege; ultimately allowing them to hold out in a war of attrition for longer than their enemies. Therefore they had dug deep and found underwater streams and lakes that flowed from the coldest and highest peaks of the mountains. Their most skilled engineers had tapped into these sources and constructed great pumps and aqueducts to carry the water all the way across the city; even to the highest towers.

With a great splash that sent cold water spraying about the room Dane leapt into the pool, relishing the icy water as it banished the cruel grip of weariness from his mind and body. He swam about the pool, from the stone edge to the curved rocks where water from the pipe in the wall flowed over to enter the pool. When the water had done its job he heaved himself out of the pool and dried himself on a towel hanging from the mouth of a bronze dragon head that protruded from the wall. Once he was dry he entered his bed chamber and donned the clean clothes that had been layed out for him by the household servants. He normally didn't indulge in the pleasures of clean clothes, but he was certain he would get plenty of time to dirty them on the journey that awaited...

---

After a hearty breakfast with his family (Not of all it of course, for that would require a room of vast proportions) Dane found himself leaving the castle-like structure that was his family house. Fully clad in his armour and travelling cloak, with his pack strapped on to his back, Dane made his way down through the cobbled streets of the City towards this precincts battle hall where his forces were arrayed for battle, with only debriefing and the journey between them and bloodshed. He knew to leave the City and fight enemies outside the mountains, especially the vile Dark Elves, was an honour for every single one of them; especially since it meant boasting their skills to the other races of the alliance.

Dane rounded a wide corner and found himself staring up at the battle hall before him. It was a grand structure, with thick pillars holding up the heavy stone ceiling and the floors above. Two statues adorned the ornate double doors that led into the battle halls atrium; they were of Dwarven warriors wielding larger than life axes (Even for a Dwarf) and glaring down at all who approached, as thought testing their souls for honour and bravery to see whether they were worthy of entering such an important place in Dwarven culture. He nodded to the statues as he passed beneath their gaze and pressed his gauntlets upon either door, bracing his muscles before he pushed the doors aside and entered the atrium.

There, before the twin doors that led to the hall itself, stood Bjard and Yarn'd, both fully kitted up as Dane was, except that Bjard was wearing the blue and red armour of his House and Yarn'd had donned the standard silver and gold armour of the army. Dane nodded to the two and approached them, the doors closing behind him.

"Glad you could make it," rumbled Yarn'd, nodding to Dane.

"We thought you'd gotten cold feet," said Bjard, smiling at Dane.

"As if. Well, shall we inspect the troops?" asked Dane, but pushed past the two and opened the doors anyway, revealing a balcony that overlooked the hall below where the soldiers were.

The three walked to the edge of the balcony, Yarn'd and Bjard on either side of Dane, and gazed down at the fifty strong armoured Dwarfs below, who shouted their salutes in old Dwarven at sight of their commanders. Just by their roars could Dane tell they were warriors who would do him pride on the field of battle; Warriors he would gladly lead in a conquest to purge the evils of the world.

"Aye, a fine division," commented Dane, taking in the perfectly arrayed soldiers like miniatures in a bored game.

"Hand-picked them myself," said Yarn'd, his chest swelling with pride, "They've proven themselves in battle more times than I can readily count on both hands,"

"Good, these are Ogres and possibly Dark Elves we are going up against...and you remember how they fight?"

"Aye, I do," said Yarn'd darkly, and Dane noticed the old soldiers hand grip the shaft of his axe.

"No fickle Elf, Dark or not, can best a Dwarf when it comes down to pure strength and melee combat! Without their tricks they're weak!" shouted Bjard so loud that the soldiers below heard him and burst out into cheers and battle cries.

"I think they're about ready for a war," said Dane, smiling down at them.

"Then we'll give 'em one," nodded Yarn'd, "In one hour we depart Dane, meet us by the Southern Gate; Braaj'Kirag!"

Dane nodded, the gate of Braaj'Kirag, he knew it well. In the tongues of man it translated roughly as Gate of Ice, Barrier to the cold Dragon of the South, but the two languages could never properly be translated; the mind behind them was far too different.

"I'll see ya then in one hour then, and together we'll march to war," Dane said, his tone laced with pride and ferocity.

"Aye, that we will," agreed Yarn's and Bjard nodded.

Dane raised his axe to the soldiers below, who thumped their breastplates in reply, and then the young BlackHammer turned to leave...

Nauda followed his Mother quietly, his mind in a few different places all at once. He despised the Prince; well, more so the fact he had the position of Prince instead of Nauda having it. But he supposed he'd tolerate his presence, and be civil tonight since he was bringing the commander with him. Yes, Nauda was excited at the fact that the commander would be there, to speak of the raid that was soon to come. 'Finally, I can leave these cursed caves and prove myself against the surface dwelling bastards...' Nauda thought to himself as him and Kiana arrived in the entrance hall.

Some time passed, as Nauda checked in a mirror to make sure he looked his best. Finally he turned toward his Mother and asked, "Mother, do you think that with you as Queen, and I as Warlord, we could take our people to victory? We both complain at the hesitation our 'Prince' has sometimes when it comes to the surface; we both know that war has no room for hesitation..." Nauda waited for his Mother's response, knowing she'd make it quick since the Prince would be here any minute. Nauda couldn't help but stare at one of the servant girls as she walked by, giving him a quick look then turning her head to the floor again.

Kiana smoothed her dress, and turned to her son.
"I believe we could lead our people to victory now, with our actions as warriors under the Prince." She then leaned closer to him, so none could hear. "But I believe that his hesitation is why I am Warlord and he is politic." She giggled, and moved away from her son to stand before the door.
It opened, and in stepped two dark elves. One was the Prince, who looked handsome in a black and purple cloak and dress clothes. His hair was long, and smoothed back behind his ears. The very house stilled at his presence, the servants gasping and whispering behind their hands. He looked around, admiring the beauty of Kiana's home. She stepped forward, her hands clasped before her.
"Welcome, my Prince." She said. He met her eyes and smiled. "And Welcome, Commander." She said as the bulky elf stepped into her home. He was wearing black and purple battle garb, and his eyes simply danced around the hall before returning to Kiana. He obviously did not appreciate beauty, like Kiana had raised Nauda too. He murmured a greeting. He was never too polite to her, for he longed for the position of Warlord. And now, his very Prince he worshiped had taken to Kiana, enjoying her company much more then his.
"Kiana." The Prince said. "You have a beautiful home."
"You are too polite, my Prince. Your home is more beautiful then twenty of mine." She said. A slave walked up, whispering into Kiana's ear. "Dinner is ready, My Prince, Commander. Let us go eat." They moved from the entrance hall to the dining room. The huge table had been replaced by one small enough to keep the guests in close proximity to Kiana and Nauda. There was barely room for plates due to the massive amount of food.
Kiana and Nauda sat down, and the Prince and Commander seated themselves across from them. The Prince met Kiana's eyes, and she smiled.
A servant walked over, cutting and dishing food out onto everyone's plates. Wine from the surface world, very expensive of course, filled their glasses.
"This will be abundant in our surface castle." The Prince said, sipping the wine. "I have always enjoyed the taste."
"I will personally deliver you wine when I come back from battle, My Prince." Kiana said. He laughed, putting his glass down.
"We have yet to discuss your plans, Kiana." The tone became more serious.
"The castle has many weak points." Kiana said. "I thoroughly examined the schematics for it, as did Nauda." The Prince barely glanced at Nauda. "I plan to siege the castle, and kill all the elves inside." She smiled, her joy at the thought of dead elves obvious.
"We shall see." The Prince said. Before every battle, it was customary for the Warlord and Prince to bicker and argue about the upcoming events. The Prince and Commander started to eat, and Kiana leaned toward Nauda.
"And that, is why I am Warlord." She whispered.

Tialon appeared from a near corner, very dark and musk. He smiled, and snickered. "Talk about fine dining..." Tialon chuckled lightly, pulling his hair from his face. "You always did know how to set a meal, even though as fancy as it need be..." He said, narrowing his eyes at each of them. "Commander........" Tialon smiled walking closer. "I thought I should tell you, I have someone who has wanted to, as you say, prove themselves to you personally....." Tialon stared, clenching his fist. He snapped his fingers, and several men walked in through a door, closing it behind him. "Actually I was hoping the Warlords son could take them out himself, I heard he was good, but I wonder, can he stand up to a Wizard?" Tialon smiled greatly, seeing if he would accept the small challenge he set forward. Even though he was good, a Magician, or a Wizard as himself was far better than a Warrior, he would face him, himself but he didn't want to hurt him, knowing he would, and could.

The sun shined down upon the trees and forestland south of the castle, casting a shadow onto the dirt and grass below. Few rays of light penetrated the large, flowered foliage, but penetrate they did, shining magnificently below to the ground, in the midst of shadows.

However, in the white petals which littered the branches of the tree, a figure sat. The being, a lone elf, was unmoving, while the darkness casted by petals shrouded him from sight. Meanwhile, below the tree, a small animal sat, gnawing away at a peice of fruit innocently.

The elf's body leaned to the side of the branch, tilting ever-so silently off the tree, swaying just over the small animal below. The elf, with striking silver hair and pale skin, continued to tilt off the branch, like a predator stalking it's prey, inching closer and closer to the moment he could latch on to the animal below. Suddenly, the elf was off the branch entirerly, swooping down, falling to the ground below. And so the elf crashed down...

...On his face.

The sleeping elf slammed into the ground with a squeal, face-first, inches away from the shocked animal, who smartly leaped away in fear. The so-called 'predator' had just leaned off his branch on which he slept, causing him to fall.

"Owowow!" yelped Rie, lifting his cloth-covered arms to rub his forehead, which ached from the impact, while the elf sobbed momentarily. His face was squished into one of discomfort, and his lips trembled as he sat on the ground he had just landed on.

"It's your fault, you know", snarled a second voice, gruff and echoing."Had you slept on the ground, you wouldn't have to fall into it." it said again, refering to the ground the vertically challenged elf had made contact with. Rie, recognizing the voice, pulled back his sleeve so that he could look at his palm, which had liquified into a sable matter. There, a single, viciously fanged mouth lay dead-center in the gel of his palm, and a sinister, fleshy tounge licked the gel around fangs, as if licking one's lips.

"Bifron?" asked Rie, looking at his palm as the teeth grinned ominously.

"Who do you think?!" snarled Bifron, the fangs baring within Rie's hand. "Hmp! A brat like you, with me at his disposal? What has this dammed world come to!?" snarled Bifron, who shut up once Rie clapped his hands together, in full knowledge of Bifron's presence in his palm. Not that it do much pain for him, after all. Bifron was immune to attacks on the gel, as was Rie- Only his solid body could be harmed with such a futile impact.

Once Bifron had retreated to Rie's subconscious, the pale-skinned elf looked in all directions. The previous day, he had wandered from the plains and farms, due south. Before long, he had noticed a decrease in civilization, and through the use of the 'Death Vision', had noticed a steady increase in dead souls. Many recent. That was odd, of course, but he paid no more attention to the matter. Instead, he continued to wander, aimlessly around the forestland.

Kiana snarled at the intruder, pushing her chair away, and swiftly unsheathing her sword. In two long strides she was standing before Tialon, her blade pressed firmly against his neck. One hand snaked behind his head, grabbing a fist-full of hair and holding him still.
"You forget that I outrank you, General." She said. "I would be happy to include you in our raid, but you won't be any good dead." She pressed the blade against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood. "If you haven't noticed, you were not invited. Do you dare disgrace yourself in front of your Prince?" She asked, leaning toward him. "Servants!" She called out. Her servants entered the room, each armed with a long, thin blade. "Remove them." The servants stepped forward, grabbing Tialon and roughly dragging him from the house, along with his elven company.
Kiana slammed the dining room door, embarrassed. Dinner had been ruined, he had seen to that. She turned back to the Prince, who had lost his appetite. He put his eating utensils down and stood, walking toward her.
"I must speak to you alone." He said. Kiana nodded, and left Nauda in the dining room with the Commander. She walked into the entrance hall with the Prince, who didn't look pleased.
"I am sorry." Kiana said.
"Do not worry, that intrusion is not my concern, it is Nauda." He whispered. Kiana felt herself tense, and looked at him innocently.
"What has he done?" She asked.
"It's not what he had done, it's what he is." He said. "One day, you will move up, and become more then Warlord." The Prince said. "But Nauda, he can never be anything due to his heritage."
"He is just like us. He wants the light elves dead just like we do." Kiana replied. The Prince shook his head, keeping his eyes downcast. "We can speak of this when me and my son come back from war." Kiana said. The Prince raised his eyebrows.
"You do not want to discuss your plans with me?" He asked.
"I already know what I am going to do, and I am Warlord." She said. He nodded, knowing she outranked him when it came to battle decisions. The Prince could call a council meeting, and prolong thier time in the caves, but he did not want to get on her bad side.
"So be it." He said, and he left the house.

Gurglok

It took Gurglok several hours before he gained another audience with the chief. Despite visiting him on an almost regular basis, the chief became popular through strength and the people. He always managed to have a scrap of food hidden behind his back that he did not himself eat vigorously, but rather let his people do the lurid chewing instead. As it stood, Gurglok wasted precious hours because of dinner, contests, sleeping, and plain lethargy common for all simple ogres.

But he didn't give up. At the break of night, right after the meal and before the digestive 'beauty' sleep of his chief, he managed to barge into his makeshift shed of splintered wood and feces mixed with animal bones and roar, “Chief! Don't go to, uh, sleep!”

Any ogre in his right mind never deprived the other of sleep. A sleepy ogre could do even less than nothing- a roadblock on a highway became less of a nuisance than they. Therefore, the chief sat up, quite irritated and perplexed, grunting, “What. What do yoo want? Me want to sleep.”

“Chief! I really think that we, uh, need to prepare a little more for this batt-”

“That. Is. Enough.” Silenced the chief in one terrifying growl that shook some of the planks. “Every. Day.”

“But chief...”

A fist smashed into the dirt and left an enormous imprint in the ground, decorated with a wave of dust to obscure his drowsy face. “We weel do it to-morrow. Now. Let. Me. Sleep!”

Gurglok knew he had succeeded, if only barely dodging a punishment for his indiscretion. He quickly bowed and left before the dust could settle in to show him that his enraged chief already slept like a mountain.

The following morning*came rather abruptly. Gurglok had been tired himself- stayed up the entire night thinking of plans. Even with a slightly more stable dialect he found it hard coming up with good battle plans, and yet another nagging thought had kept him awake. That the chief accepted only to make him stop pestering. A lie.

Fortunately, things looked different. Very different, he noted, as the punch he missed in the night came slamming into his left jaw side from somebody slightly stronger than he. The offender shook the pain from his fist as he chuckled gutturally at his victim's demeaning position on the ground. From behind this offender stepped the chief, smiling brightly and helping him back up,

“Don't keep mee frum sleepin' agen, ok?” He said apologetically, and added, “Now. Wat did yoo haf planned? And will eet tak longer than breakfeast?”

“Yes, it will.”

“Awwww.” moped the Chief, “What is eet?”

Now, it was Gurglok's turn to smile devilishly. He secretely enjoyed it a bit to harrass his folk when it came to work, and especially using his intellect.

“We will,” He declared confidently, “build, uh, catapults from this forest. And after that we will,uh, dig. That's first. I will have,uh, other things for you to do once we, uh, have that.”

As expected from his fellow ogres, he heard the first buts, “But, but but...!”

*I'm following Vypers time schedule.

Nauda merely watched as the Prince and Commander left. Nauda sat a moment longer, then got up out of his chair with haste and strode over to his Mother. He stood next to her in silence, as the two Dark Ones made their way down the stone walk way of their home, then turned to his Mother and said, "Who was that intruder, Mother? If it had been proper for me to sully our dinner table and guests with that bastard's blood, I would've done so!" Nauda was infuriated, and paced a few steps then asked, "And what did the Prince say? I'm eager to know if we'll be off soon.." Nauda finished, standing just about a foot in front of Kiana, flustered and irritated at the way the night had turned out for the two of them. He knew this dinner had been important to her, and wished she wouldn't be angry or irritated; Nauda hated seeing his Mother unhappy...


OOC: Sorry for the kinda short post, not sure what I should say/do after that was ruined XD.