The Rise of Anger: A Tale of the Blue Dragons (IC)

The Rise of Anger

(Disciple)

The Disciple raised his head, the ram skull he wore as a helmet casting a foreboding shadow upon the sodden lifeless earth that most of the southern slums sported. He glanced over his assembled generals and warlords. Snorting, he turned to face the great north-south divide. It was easily identifiable, as the huge ridge of mountains defined it, with Deathpeak rising out of them like a behemoth amongst ants. They were visible even from the most northern point, to the deepest south point. He turned back to his generals, the bleak sunlight glinting off his waraxe’s sharp teeth.
“Today!” He bellowed in a disturbing and harsh baritone voice. “We march! Tomorrow, we conquer! Then, when all the preparations are made! WE DECIMATE THE WINGED LIZARDS!” The words had barley left his scarred lips when the generals roared out in agreement. Spurring all the forces assembled into action, joining in with the mighty war cry.
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGEE!”

General Loamhorn walked over to Warlord Krath.
“We have most of the slums in our control, and soon the northlands too, I can feel it in my bones!” He said cheerily over to him. Krath glanced over his shoulder from where he was sharpening his blade on a whetstone.
“Aye, not even those winged lizards can stop us now.” He called back. Most of the members of the Disciples army called the Blue Dragons, winged lizards. The bulk of Slavemaster Makz trudged over, kicking up small dust clouds as he did. Loamhorn nodded at him. The Slavemaster had a wicked grin plastered over his face.
“We has a whole bunch’a new slaves in from tha’ last village.” He explained in his odd dialect. Loamhorn allowed himself an evil chuckle.
The Disciple strode over to them. Snorting his sheathed his mighty waraxe.
“You and you.” He growled, pointing to Loamhorn and Krath, “Follow me.” The soldiers did as they were bidden, for fear of incurring his wrath. The Disciple pulled one of his hand axes out and pointed at a town in the distance with it.
“See that?” He asked them angrily.
“Yes my lord, ‘tis a town.” Replied Krath.
“Well then, eagle-eyes,” The Disciple yelled back angrily. “I don’t want to be able to see it by dawn tomorrow.” Krath gulped when he had finished. The Disciple walked off to berate some slacking soldiers. Loamhorn slapped his comrade on the back.
“Don’t worry Krath. Doesn’t look like it’ll be too much trouble. Mostly ramshackle huts and cardboard buildings, she’ll fall down in a jiffy.” He said. Krath remained pensive for a few seconds.
“Bah, whatever.” He said finally. Loamhorn turned to a section of his troops, issuing out commands to mobilise. Krath followed suit. Soon a strike force was walking down to conquer the last free town in the deep southern area.

(Dhzark)
A meeting had been called to all the Dragons currently at Dragon Headquarters. The site was massive. Consisting of seven major buildings, two of which were barracks. The middle building was the Grand Hall, large enough to fit two thousand people inside. The smaller building to the side of that was the armoury, consisting of all spare and siege weaponry available to the Dragons. On the north side of that is the smallest of the buildings, the council chambers, including the mystic archive and “the cube”. To the left of the Grand Hall is the training hall and grounds. The final building is detached from the rest and is the great court; this is the domain of the Black Dragons, bringing criminals down in their ruthlessly efficient court and jurisdiction systems.
Every Dragon not on active duty was called to the Grand Hall for an urgent report from Sade and the Grey Dragons.
On a stage in the centre of the hall were 12 chairs. Only 11 Grey Dragons were present though, with Sade taking the empty chair. Sade was sitting in the middle, with Marumokumba to his left and Ermuul to his right. Súno was talking to the gathered crowd. Ermuul leant over and in a whisper loud enough to be heard by Sade and Marumokumba he said,
“So are you going to tell them about the troubles in the south?”
“I have no choice. I have to tell them. I can’t brush it under the mat in a vain attempt to hide it, it would only come back to haunt us later.” He said resignedly. Marumokumba grinned and leant over to them.
“That’s the spirit, chin up, chest out, wot wot!” He said in his jovial accent, imitating the way Suhmon spoke.
“I heard that you blaggard!” Suhmon called over.
“Some people just have no sense of humour.” Muttered Marumokumba. Súno had finished her announcement and had sat down. A large Black Dragon named Gor came up to the stand. He was a monster to be sure, had to be bordering the seven-foot marker. He made his announcement, it was short and to the point. After that he walked off.
Dhzark had been standing behind his master, Ermuul, for the duration of the meeting. Gor walked past him on his way off of the stage.
“Hey Gor, you going to the west barracks after this?” Dhzark called over to him. Gor looked over his shoulder and nodded at him.
“That I am. Would I be correct in guessing you will be there too then?” He called back in a gruff voice. Dhzark nodded. Gor raised his hand as a farewell and walked off stage.
“If you are quite done gossiping now Dhzark.” Came a stern voice from in front of him.
“I am sorry master.” Dhzark mumbled. Sade was standing at the front of the stage now; he drew in a deep breath and began his announcement.
“It has come to our attention that there is an uprising in the southern slums, we aren’t too sure on the details, but this is not something to be taken lightly. If our reports are correct, then there is a massive army, including remnants of the Lords of Decay’s army. They appear to be lead by a savage killer who is only known as ‘The Disciple of Rage’. The army currently occupies at least half of the southern slums and will no doubt begin their move north. We must be ready if the worst comes to the worst. First of all, we must begin a party to travel down and see what’s going on down there. Once they have returned we will plan from there on.”
Whispered conversations and wild rumours began flying around the hall like angry wasps, knocked from their nest. Sade decided to let them speculate. Walking over to Súno, he asked her opinion.
“You’re head of subterfuge and spying, what would be the best way of going about this?” Súno sat for a while, thinking. Then made her reply.
“I’ll get some of my most trusted scouts and send them down, they shouldn’t take long to get there, get the information and get back.” She said. Sade nodded in agreement.
“Do that. I’ll hold a meeting in private with the rest of the council later to discuss emergency defence tactics.” The council and Sade dispersed to go about other daily tasks, as did the rest of the Grand Hall.
Dhzark was waiting for Gor in the west barracks canteen, a tankard of water in one hand. Taking small sips he sat, digesting what Sade had told them all. He saw a few Yellow Dragons talking with Súno. Pretending not to care, he listened in intently.
“Right then, Ono, Gurth and Zhua. You three are in charge. Your mission is simple, get down to the southlands and gather information. You leave at dawn tomorrow. Also, Dhzark, please stop eavesdropping.” She said. Dhzark was startled and spilt some of his water.
“Eavesdropping? Me? I wasn’t!” Protested Dhzark in what he hoped was an honest tone.
“Give over. Even through your visor it’s easy to tell when you are lying.” She chuckled, making for the door. As she did, Gor came in the other way, taking a seat next to Dhzark.
“What’s with you? Why have you gone bright red? Are you attempting to match the colour of your armour, because you need to be a slightly richer shade.” Gor struggled to keep a straight face as Dhzark stammered and stuttered a comeback at him.

Marshall walked out of the grand hall solemnly. So the rumors were true. The yellows always had flying rumors due to the nature of their position but this was unheard of. An actual rebellion taking place in their own country? And they already captured the slums? It seemed no great loss but it would sure be a morale shrinker.

Hell, it was already affecting him.

The deciple of Rage? Who was he? Surely not a very pleasant fellow if he went around calling himself such an auspicious name like that. But why? Not even other yellows could attest to this ruler in their rumors. Was he a madman or a peasent was he a geinus or simply a man who commanded a presance? That was the thing that seemed to irk everyone. What the hell was going on here? Why was there war breathing down their necks?

Too many questions to answer and not enough basis to answer them upon. He hated that. Disgusted he returned with a large crowd to the eastern barracks where now there was an uneasy buzz. Even the games of dice and cards that normally kept them occupied were strangely joyless. Marshall walked by and returned to his quarterss, abandoning the card game he had been playing before the meeting. He took off his uncomfortable chain which he had worn for the meeting and returned outside his room. As he began to leave the barracks he was stopped.

"Hey, Marshall? You quitting?"

"Yeah, Yetsu. Not in the mood anymore." He replied to his friend. Yetsu had a reputation of being a fun guy to be around, but also at being a horrible gossip.

"Alright. Oh, yeah! I heard that Suno is sending out three yellows to go investigate." As Yetsu spoke the room got a little quieter. While he was a horrible gossip, he also spread lots of good gossip.

"You're probably right. We really don't know anything about them do we? We've probably got to put up some resistance before they come much further up north. Anyway, just shuffle in my hand. I'm going to get some fresh air." With that Marshall walked back out into the buzzing grounds of the headquarters. all he could see were colors buzzing about like bees, vying for the latest details. Not that there were any to go around. Marshall sighed and began to walk toward the training ground. Maybe some swordwork would get his mind off this. After all, he had become a little rusty since becoming a yellow.

Askabald Alkatraz leaned against the wall at the back of the hall. He had better things to be doing then some bloody pep rally or whatever this was for. Supposedly it was something important, although summoning this many Dragons in one place was a possible indication of that as well. He hadn't even bothered himself enough to wear his full plate, opting for his much more comfortable outfit, the only real bit of armor being his breastplate. It was a casual disdain for any standing orders for full armor, though he still had his longsword at his side. The speculation after the announcement of this Disciple of Rage and his rag tag army, minus the bits of the Lord's of Decay, ground on his nerves fast. Although several younger Blue ranks came over and tried to pry some information out of him. "Ask! Hey, any idea on what's going to happen now? Imagine, glorious crusades against these hostiles of the Dragons!"

Ask, being his nickname, just gave them a frown and sunk whatever high spirits they had. "Now don't get wound up. Chances are this is some crazed lunatic that an elite strike can eliminate, and even if it isn't that way, there won't be any glory. The forces he raised are probably peasants and ill equipped soldiers, even the remnants of the Lord of Decay's armies can't counteract that lack of skill. If anything, it will be bloody, a waste of lives and time better applied elsewhere, and tarnishes the image of all involved." This deflated them considerably, and they went to a more upbeat Red to get some tales closer to what they had been fishing for. He had a sneaking suspicion they would die first, if push came to shove, and it would be a shame. Unavoidable, but a shame. He had his own theories, but he kept silent on them, just glaring about him and waiting for something more deserving of his time then this half backed announcement that caused more speculation then anything constructive. Even if this Disciple of Rage pushed towards Blue Dragon territory, the very same land favored them. They were on familiar ground, had the advantage of better training, equipment, leadership, morale, tactics, the list went on. Even their magic users would be more deadly then whatever magics, for the most part, would be fielded by this lunatic warlord. It would be quick and bloody, and he suspected he was dead right. The silent pun made him smirk, the cuts across his face twisting the already death's head smirk that was ever present in unpleasant ways.

Ask walked out, giving a curt nod to the Yellow as he went. This wasn't too much of a concern, and he had much better things to do then listen to gossips. He was on his way to the Barracks, to practice with his combat skills. If war erupted, he would have to be sharp to live and win.

Seth hadn't even bothered entering the Great Hall and instead was standing nearby an entrance to the Hall. Having not put on his armor, he stood in his normal black attire and caught every word of the announcement despite all of the commotion. Not having to walk through the crowd, the White Dragon quickly left the area once the announcement had ended and headed towards one of the more quiet parts of the grounds. As he walked, thoughts went through Seth's head. This announcement had no doubt troubled him. It was true that the Blue Dragons would most likely be able to handle this threat without too much trouble, but deep down, the mention of the so-called Disciple of Rage had left him disturbed.

What is it that gives me such an uneasy feeling? he thought.

This 'disciple' was leading an army of soldiers whose experience probably paled in comparison to that of Blue Dragons. The mention of he remnants from the Lord of Decay's army hadn't bothered Seth too much, seeing as how they wouldn't be able to make up for the incompetence of the others. The Blue Dragon's would decimate the disciple's army with ease.

Surely this Disciple of Rage cannot make up for the rest of his army, the White Dragon thought, but as that those thoughts left his head, he became more uneasy.

Deciding to meditate on the matter, Seth approached two trees with approximately ten feet between each other. Sitting down cross-legged between the two, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Subconsciously, the White Dragon caused two pillars of ice to erupt from the ground about three feet from him on each side that rose five feet. A chilling mist emanated from the two pillars and surrounded Seth. To many others, this cold would have been to much to mediate around, but to Seth, it was nothing. He had learned to will his body so that he wouldn't feel anything in regards to the cold. It came with being affined to water, he supposed.

Right about now Marshall was feeling like a real ass. By the time he had gone to the cube to train it dawned on him that he had forgoten everything. Not just his armor. His sword, bow, everything. So now he had to go back to the barracks and pick it all up and walk back, which was quite annoying due to the enormous size of the headquarters. He got back to the barracks and returned up to his room, and redonned his chain mail. Then he walked to the corner of his quarters and picked up his sword and bow. He briefly unsheathed his sword, examining it out of habit's sake, before resheathing it and belting it on. He held his bow as he dodged around crowds in the barracks. He managed to make it out of the barracks unseen by Yetsu, who would've really given him a hard time for forgetting his blade. He really had to get better about that.

Growing up on a ranch had really hurt him in that category, as he really had no idea of bladework before he came here. It just seemed unwieldy and... just not that effective. He really hated when he had to carry it around with him, so he normally left it in his quarters. The overall concept didn't click for him. Except when he was on horseback. Then he "got it". It did no damage to the horse, you could hit and run. It made sense. But the bow just had come to him. His father had used a bow to herd, but his bow was a more longbow, nothing like the bow he now carried. Sure, the basics of the bow carried over, but the touch? That was all learning through your fingers. As he walked back to the training ground he saw the chaos around him. It probably was the best to tell them, but at what point is it better to hold onto a small sense of security and the confidence that accompanies it?

Marshall finally arrived at the training ground and took a survey of the inside. The training ground was rather empty due to the announcement. People must be out gossiping or something. He walked in and went over to the side of the room unbuckling his sword and laying it on the ground. Again it was a habit. When he was still a blue he had hated carrying his blade around everywhere and frequently when they went to the training ground for drills, he forgot it at the barracks. Eventually he had learned to carry it around with him, at least when they were going to the training ground. Somehow it never felt right walking in here without his sword even after his final lessons. He had paused briefly, recalling the memories of his first few months here but then placed his bow next to his sword and walked over to the arms rack. He picked up a medium weight wastier, one that pretty much resembled the weight of his blade, although it seemed more topheavy... he put it back and selected again, this time finding a closer match. He grabbed a target and began working on it.

Too high strike there

Recovery too slow

Too wide

......

There

(Disciple)

The Yellow Dragons had taken a White Dragon skilled in air magic. Using a cloud they travelled a good distance in a day. That's when they saw it. At the very southern area of the slums, a raging fire billowed forth a plume of smoke. They decided not to risk being seen so dropped down to continue on foot.

"Well done Loamhorn." Praised the Disciple blandly. "Makz, how many slaves did we gain?"
"At least three hundred." He replied proudly.
"Good."
"Sir! Our scouts report they saw some Dragons heading this way." Said a soldier. The Disciple hit him across the face with the back of his hand.
"Well don't just stand there, deal with them!" He shouted at him. The soldier struggled to rise and saluted before running off. Krath had been put in charge of dealing with the Yellow Dragons that had landed north of their position. Krath had a good elf friend named Zeth. Zeth was a Darkness Warlock in the Lords of Decay's army.
"Right so run me through the plan again Zeth." Asked Krath for the third time.
"You pick your best fighters, I'll cast a concealment spell and we'll jump them." He explained. Krath smiled maliciously, licking the blade of his knife.
"Good, good. Right then," He said, turning to his force. "You, you and you. Come with me. You four go over there. The rest of you stay hidden and don't say anything."

The small party led by Ono, Gurth and Zhua walked cautiously up a large hill. It didn't take them long to reach the top, being scouts, but the White Dragon was lagging behind with a new scout called Sam. Gurth got to the top first, and he stood slack jawed in amazement.
The army was huge. Everywhere you looked there were soldiers. They had to be outnumbered ten to one. Ono reached the top next and gasped.
"How... but... when?" She stammered. Zhua called up to them.
"What's up there?"
"Come take a look for yourself." Replied Gurth. Unfortunately Zhua didn't get a chance to reply. A dagger came whizzing past Ono's face and landed deep into Zhua's chest. He fell with a gurgle and rolled back down the hill. The White Dragon sensed danger and quickly retreated down the hill with Sam. They reached the base and the White Dragon was ran through by a spear. The concealment spell slowly wore off, showing Krath and three others in their murderous glory. A dark smile spread across his face.
"Well hello there little girl, isn't it past your bedtime?" He said. Sam was too frightened to speak; she had only been a scout for three days and had been chosen to come along to see how veteran scouts operated. A thud sounded beside her, she turned to see the lifeless eyes of Ono staring at her from the floor. Krath put his knife to her throat.
"You run back to your little hideout in the north and tell your precious Silver Dragon that the Disciple is coming, and no matter what he does, or how he prepares, Rage will conquer."

(Dhzark)

Dhzark woke up. He was in the canteen still, fully armoured. As he sat up, he quickly regretted the decision. He had a stiff neck and cramp in his left leg.
"Oh man. What did I do to deserve this?" He said out loud to himself.
"Son, Gor said I might find you here." Said a deep voice from behind him. Dhzark turned to see a large Black Dragon leaning on his axe. It was his father.
"What have I done this time?" He protested.
"You're late, you said you'd do guard duty for the great court's main gates today."
"Yeah, but I don't need to be there until nine." He said, taking off his helmet and massaging his neck.
"It's half past ten." His father said sternly. Dhzark moved like lightning, ignoring the pain in his leg and neck. His father sighed and walked at a more leisurely pace after him.

Dhzark made it to the main gates. Lots of Black Dragons were here, mainly because this was their domain. Almost every Black Dragon was present with the exception of a few. Inside was the massive statue of Garonthir, the first Gold Dragon. He stood in a heroic pose with his helmet tucked under his arm and he was leaning on his sword. Dhzark looked up at the statue, he had seen it many times but he always felt inspired by it. He knew he wouldn't see Gor today; he was out on a special mission to the east. Dhzark sat down in the guard hut and started tending to his leg. From his hut he could see everyone passing in and out of the court.
"I'm not disturbing you am I?" Said Ermuul. Dhzark nearly had a heart attack.
"How the heck did you get in here without me knowing?" He asked. Ermuul simply tapped his nose.
"Meet me by that statue after dark, I have many important things to discuss with you. Bring anyone else who feels up to it. I and Marumokumba will be waiting."

Miralda had been training alone for the past few hours. Even though so many people Had told her she coud improve any more than she already had, she did not believe them at all. Her master could still beat her with a hand held behind his back, and if she could at least make him fight full-out, how could she expect to join the Maroons? That was her main dream after having joined the dragons. Her family was expecting her to go far. She could not let them down. She had to become stronger.

However, she could honestly train no more. Her hands were burning, the skin on them rubbed raw for the excersizes, even though she had done it thousands of times before. She supposed that was why her master had always made her wear gloves, and why the knights all wore gauntlets to battle. The skin on her hands agreed with her. She sheathed her sword, and started off to return back to the base.

On her way back, she heard very disturbing things. War in the south. Some so called Disciple of Rage. Remnants of the Army of Decay. Alone, these things would be disturbing. Together, they were even worse. At this rate, there would be a new war against an "Army of Rage." The Dragons would win, of course, but at what cost? The world would take terrible losses. While she pondered such thoughts, she had wandered into the training area, one of her regular haunts. Her hand rested on her sword, not out of intent to use it, but of sheer habit, almost as if to make sure it was still there. Her eyes rested on a yellow down there practicing his sword work. She wasn't looking at him, thought; her it looked more like she was looking through him or past him. She was intent on her thoughts.

After a couple of hours, Seth broke his meditative state which caused the pillars of ice to melt and return to the ground. With the mist gone, the area around the White Dragon warmed up considerably. While he was able to will his body to ignore the cold, it did not mean his body was unaffected. Meditating in the cool mist for too long would often lead to a cold and Seth had no desire for that to happen. He sneezed. Too late. He got up and walked over to one of the tress and leaned against it. Meditating had no doubt helped him sort out his thoughts on the matter of the Disciple of Rage, but he didn't feel any more at ease on the matter than he did before. If anything, he felt more uneasy.

Having not gone through any extensive training today, he decided to work on an exercise he had recently developed. His black gnarled staff appeared in his right hand and he pointed it at the ground a few yards away from him. From the bottom to the top, a figure made of ice formed where the staff was pointed. He looked at the figure for awhile before nodding. He had poured a large amount of magic into the ice so that it could defend itself while Seth attempted to break it.

Starting with something simple, a spear of ice appeared above the White Dragon's head and shot at the figure. The spear easily impaled the figured, but the former quickly shattered and the hole in the latter quickly regenerated. Several small spires appeared around the figure and shot at Seth. He waved his hand creating a wall of ice in front of him to stop at attack.

Odd, it didn't usually do this. His staff, which had been discarded a few moment earlier, reappeared in his his. He slammed the butt of the staff into the ground which caused several spires of ice to erupt from the ground under the figure. Upon impact with the figure, the spires shattered into several pieces and hovered around the figure. Already knowing what was going to happen, Seth dodged at the ice was hurled at him. He managed to dodge all of them except for the last which had struck his left arm, cutting through his robes and leaving a cut roughly two inches long. He'd get it patched up later.

He pondered on what approach to take. Clearly attacking the figure had no effect. It seemed to be using whatever magic he was using to regenerate itself or to counterattack. Of course! Seth mentally kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner. As it was magic from the same caster, the ice figure was able to absorb the attacks. As to the counterattacks, he assumed it could not hold that much magic and had to expel it in the form of attacks.

The solution to this was simple. Seth raised his staff slightly above his head and began chanting quietly. A ball of energy with runes swirling around it appeared at its head. He pointed the staff at the figure and released the energy at it. Upon impact, a rune embedded barrier surrounded the figure. It was a combination of a simple barrier and a ward that prevented any magic was passing through the barrier.

Now with the figure unable to expel any of the absorbed magic, he snapped his fingers and a spire of ice erupted from underneath the figure. Unable to expel the magic, the figure shattered because it could not hold in that much magic. Seth caused the ice to melt and return to the ground. It was getting dark so he decided to talk a walk for awhile before calling it a day. As he walked passed the Great Courts, he noticed several Black Dragons gathered at the gates. This wasn't uncommon seeing how it was their domain. Amongst the black, Seth caught a glimpse of red. That wasn't uncommon either. Red Dragons often guarded the Great Courts along the with the Black Dragons.

(Dhzark)

Dhzark sat in the guardhouse, pondering what Ermuul had told him. What could be so important? And why did he want to meet at the statue of Garonthir? He would find out soon enough.
Soon enough, his guard duty was over. He decided he'd go train for a bit. Upon arrival he saw a number of people, going about their business, training and whatnot. He saw a Red Dragon, not seeming to be doing anything but staring at a training Yellow Dragon. Dhzark walked over. Upon closer inspection it was a girl, and it looked like she was looking behind the Yellow Dragon. Dhzark didn't see if the Yellow Dragon had noticed and approached her.
"You alright? Or is there something really interesting on that guy's back I'm not seeing?" Dhzark asked her.

(Disciple)

"Idiots! Fools!" The Disciple struck out left and right with his fists. "You should have slain them all! Now they know our size and strength!"
"But sir, I just thought..."
"Thought what Krath? You do not do the thinking! I do the thinking!" He howled into Krath's face. Krath backed down and scuttled away, just in time to avoid a wooden tankard smashing on a rock behind him. Loamhorn watched the sorry seen with Makz.
"Huh. Krath's got boss in a bad mood now." Loamhorn moaned.
"Yeah, and na' we's gunna have ta put up wiv' it." Added Makz.

Sam stumbled through the wastelands, tears welling up in her eyes. She ran smack bang into the middle of a camp belonging to a few Blue Dragons and a Teal Dragon.
"Oi! What do you think you're doing! Running in here and kicking dirt in our fire? Oh hang on. You're one of us." Said the Teal Dragon.
"Help, please they could be coming after me!" Sam pleaded.
"Who?" Asked one of the Blue Dragons.
"Help!" She shouted, gripped by fear and sprouting gibberish. The Teal Dragon forced her to clam down and passed her a goblet of water.
"Who's coming after you then?" He asked finally.
"The Disciple. He's coming to kill Sade." She explained. The Blue Dragons looked at each other dumbly, they hadn't attended the meeting.
"Who?" Asked the Teal Dragon. Sam took a while to explain what the council had told them and Teal Dragon's expression turned serious.
"Right. My boat is only over yonder hill; we'll set sail immediately. We'll be back home by tomorrow noon!" He said standing up, being to issue orders to the Dragons around him.

Unbeknownst to them, a certain Warlord was coming along for the ride. After his berating, Krath had been assigned the glorious task of spying. He spat and moaned as he trailed the Dragons to the boat.
"Bah, there's barley a score of decent fighters with me. What if this gets nasty, eh? We're doomed, that's what. If I were the size of that damned Disciple, I'd be the leader, not him."
Zeth caught up with him.
"Stop complaining and stand still long enough to let me cloak us. No need for unnecessary fights." He said, almost cheerfully. The boat was rather small, probably enough for a crew of twenty. This made it difficult for Krath and his lackeys to hide in the tiny cargo hold. But somehow, they squeezed in.
"Look out Lizards. Here comes Krath." He whispered to himself.

Miralda jumped slightly, not having noticed anyone approach. She turned to look at the new comer. He was a man, older than she was, and also a red, by the looks of things. Responding to his question, she said, "I'm fine, thank you. And no, there's nothing there that you don't see. I wasn't really looking at him." She didn't say that she had been lost in thought, so she left this guy to make of it what he would. Not recognizing him as someone she had seen before, she said, "I'm Miralda Christina de Reon. And you are...?"


The gray clouds over a distant town made the perfect conditions for Luke's mission. All he had to do was dispose of the governor of this region and return back to the temple unnoticed. The man he was targeting was unlikely to have serious guards, and also someone at ease giving public speeches. Perfectly easy to take out. In fact, he had been here in the hay loft of this barn for just such a chance. The governor was going to give a speech out on a green near by, then later he would make an "unscheduled" stop to check out the state of affairs of the farms here. The farm he was going to come to was here. He and maybe a few wimpy guards would be the only ones who needed to disappear.

The door creaked open as the governor and two other men came into the barn. The real test began now. Throwing two of his poison darts out, he jumped down from the loft with his dagger in hand. He landed right as the two bodyguards fell dead, and twisted around. At almost the same instant that he drew his dagger, the governor was dead of a pierced heart. Then, as calm was if nothing had happened, he retrieved his darts, and cleaned off both them and the dagger before slipping out of the barn the back way. It would be a few hours before anyone found the governor. By then, no one would ever know he had been there.

Marshall finally lowered his blade and dipped his head closing his eyes briefly. Man, he really had become rusty since being a yellow dragon. He opened his eyes to look at the pummeled target. It looked at first glance that he had done a good job on it but when looked at closer his angles were off, variance on all of his attack angles. He would need to work that out if he wanted to get better. After all, he had been taught that you can't learn anything new until you master the basics, and the precision of your strikes was a basic surely. He took a deep breath and wiped accumulated sweat off of his brow. He took a brief look around the training grounds at the various people working on their swordwork. Every one slightly different in their approack and their regemin of training.

Him he was a more hands-on guy he prefered sparring a lot to cutting down stupid mats, but when it came to individual work he just used a wastier and a target. Simple, how he liked it. This however was not a prefered approach to most people other than himself, as the hits from sparring tended to add up, because he was a competent swordsman at best, and liked to go against the best he could find.

He smiled to himself as he saw two reds standing by the door talking. That was the de Roen girl, she practically lived here. She had come in after him but he had heard there was hardly a day that went by that she was not here. And whenever he seemed to be here she tended to live up to tat gossip. But the guy, who knew. Marshall had never met him personally, but he was a red so that would explain why. The headquarters was a huge facility with enormous masses of people living inside of it and it was not uncommon not know a lot of people that lived around. And becides he was a red. There was no way an amature likie himself would have been paired with him even in training exercizes. Even the girl he only knew by reputation.

He stopped his stalling and replaced his wastier on the sword rack and went over to his equipment still leaning up against the wall. He drew his sword and examined it before sheathing it and buckling it on. He then picked up his bow and started for the door.

But then he changed his mind. He was in no rush and he really didn't want to hang out in the pandemonium that would be the barracks anyway. So instead he decided to walk over to the pair of reds. So he altered his course slightly and walked over to them.

"Hey."

(Dhzark)

"I am Dhzark. Nice to meet you Miralda." He said. He decided it would be much more polite to talk without his helmet on.
"Hmm, well, just so long as you don't daydream when fighting's to be done" He said airily. As he tucked his helmet underneath his arm, the Yellow Dragon that Miralda had been staring at walked over to them and hailing them with a friendly greeting.
"Hey."
Dhzark turned so that he was half facing Miralda and half facing the new addition to the group.
"Hello. I don't believe I've met you either. I'm Dhzark by the way." Dhzark said. "How come Súno didn't send you off on the scouting mission? You looked pretty handy with that sword." He said, trying to make conversation.

(Disciple)

Krath was losing his patience. He had no bearings in the cargo hold and it was boiling down there. Zeth heard him grumbling away to himself.
"Bah! Why did I follow his orders? I could have stayed in a nice farm east of my hometown and lived in peace. But no, I went and joined the damned Lords of Decay, and now here I am. Stuck in a boat with a score of men."
"Krath, keep your voice down." Warned Zeth.
"Don't you shush me! I have authority over you!"
"This is stupid! We should be killing them!" Came a voice in the darkness. Krath lashed out with the flat of his knife.
"Shut up! If they hear us we'll have to fight them, and lets face it, you lot ain't the best fighters his mightiness could have spared me." He moaned.

"Did you hear something?" Asked Sam.
"Hmm? Oh, nah. I was too busy thinking about all the food I can eat when I get back." Replied the Teal Dragon. "I haven't had a decent meal since we set out a month ago."
"Huh. Must have been my imagination."
"Or my stomach."

The Disciple had conquered the majority of the far south now. Only the capital of the southlands, Uvfar, remained, and a few insignificant towns and villages. He would not concern himself with those. Although, the capital would not bend to his will so easily. It was the only place not feeling the full effects everyone else was. The Disciple beckoned over Loamhorn.
"Are the troops ready?" He asked.
"Aye Boss, all armed to the teeth and raring to go."
"And the slaves?"
"Under the watchful eye of Makz, Boss." Loamhorn answered.
"Good, good. Right. Begin the march. Uvfar will become dust."
Loamhorn roared out commands and the vast Army of Rage shook the earth under its ominous march toward the capital, lead by the Disciple himself, eager to be the first to spill blood.

Seth found himself walking towards the north end of the headquarters and stopped for a moment to decide where to go. He wasn't at the headquarters to often and whenever he was, he usually kept to himself. Seeing as how he was already in the north part of the place, the White Dragon decided to head for the mystic archives. After walking for a few more minutes, he stepped into the building and examined his surroundings since he hadn't been here in awhile. He had always been rather fond of this place. There were shelves all over the place filled with large tomes and smaller books. Tables were scattered across the archives with books and documents piling on top of each other.

At a first glimpse, he noticed that there weren't many others around, and nearly all of them were White Dragons. This wasn't a surprise seeing as how, other than the Orange Dragons, the White Dragons were only ones to use magic in the Blue Dragons. Seth walked over to a nearby shelf and examined its contents before choosing a tome that was close to what he was looking for. Runes - The Basis of Wards, it read. While he was well known for his ability to use water magic at his age, he was well aware that one could not win a fight with only one from of magic.

While water magic was easily the most versatile element, it was also the weakest. Seth had accepted this fact long ago and found other ways to make up for this weakness. He had first been taught how to cast barriers and wards by his old teacher, Garren Tyrellis. Immediately, he knew using magic in these forms was no easy task. Ever since he could use and control his magic, one of Seth's dreams was to surpass both his mother and teacher in magic. Though she was young when she left the Blue Dragons, his mother was incredibly talented with not only fire magic but also barriers, wards, and enchantments. His teacher on the other hand was a master of both water and earth magic.

It wasn't up until a few years ago that he stopped learning from Tyrellis. His former teacher had grown old and Seth feared the constant use of magic at his age would reduce his time to live. He had turned down the old teacher's offer to continue to teach him. Tyrellis was the closest thing Seth had to a father, and he refused to be responsible if his teacher died earlier than he should have.

The White Dragon flipped through the battered tome looking for something similar to what he had in mind. By no means was Seth an expert in wards, but after years of using them, he was definitely no amateur. He had come to respect the complexity of runes and how they made up wards. He stopped flipping through the tome and it landed on exactly what he wanted it to.

Rune-Based Attacks, it read at the top of the page. Seth already knew how to combine barriers and wards together but was still rather confused when it came to combining wards and attacks. Tyrellis wasn't an expert on runes and wards either so he wasn't sure when asked. Perhaps this would shed some light on the matter. Seth walked over to a table, sat down, and began to read.

Marshall laughed slightly at the red's comment.

"Nah, I really aren't that good. I'm much more at home on my horse, not on my own two feet. And as for not being part of the scouting team, I guess it's because there are some more tenured members on the team. I've only been a yellow for two years now, so I am still no expert at all of that sort of stuff. Anyways, I'm Marshall Eros."

With that Marshall stuch his hand out to the red with a smile. This red seemed to be a really nice guy, so It'd be good to at least know his name and face around here.

(Shadow Lord)

"Well done Luke! You have done the temple proud. We have just claimed another mission from an anonymous client. He wishes for you to assassinate the Slavemaster Makz of the Army of Rage. The Client adds, 'I do not care, how, when or whence you kill him. Only that you do.' Personally, I'm a fan of letting them suffer, but the quick clean method could prove effective for some instant cash. Chop, chop! Hop to it. Don't bother coming back to the temple; it would only take more time. I've already sent some cultists down just southeast of where you are now; they have hidden all necessary provisions you may need for the task in an old fallen oak tree. Good luck. And don't fail, or I'll strangle you with your own guts!"

The voice of the Shadow Lord faded in Luke's head.

(Dhzark)

"Well, if you say so." Dhzark smiled back at Marshall. "Hey, why don't you two come with me to meet Ermuul later on, he says that he is onto somewhat of a riddle, could be exciting." He proposed to Marshall and Miralda.

Sam launched herself from the front end of the boat, nearly breaking her legs on the landing. The Teal Dragon followed suit, overtook her and sprinted toward the east barracks canteen. Sam was heading in the other direction, toward the council chambers.
She flung the doors open. "The Disciple is coming!" He shrieked into the room, attracting the attention of all present inside . Sade stood up and turned to her.
"Calm down, what are you going on about?" He asked her.
"The Disciple is coming to kill you! He wants to destroy all traces of the Blue Dragons!"
"Absurd! We are far too powerful for some rabble uprising to crush us! Pah, jolly well insulting, wot!" Scoffed Suhmon.
"Never underestimate your opponent, Suhmon." Came a sagely old voice from within a large floating box. The surface seemed to shift and change with every passing second, and it seemed to fill the entire room emitting a thin layer of smoke from each corner, emulating flight, yet never moving a millimetre. The old man, half-visible from within the cube was none other than the immortal advisor to the Silver Dragon himself, Fucasou.
"There are many dark forces in this world. The Lords of Decay proved this. After that, nothing should be taken lightly when it comes to war." He was hovering, cross-legged in the centre of the cube. For a moment the cube turned as grey as steel then changed to a sky blue with tufts of cloud floating across it.
"Fucasou is right! We must act now!" Exzu exclaimed.
"No, we must plan our actions. We cannot rush into this. If what young Sam says is correct, he is coming to destroy us. If we charge in right away, he will outnumber us and crush us. We must stay within the walls to have the advantage." Kanakuru reasoned.

"What good is having the walls around us if we are besieged?" Kotarō challenged. "We must at least send a strike force to ward them off."
Sade sat down and contemplated the options lain before him by his council.
"Sam."
"Yes my Lord?"
"What did you see? Since you are the only surviving scout I presume?"
"Yes my Lord. They ambushed us and killed us all except me. Ono, Gurth and Zhua, and the others too. They let me go to tell you that he was coming to get you. It was horrible."
"Yes, I know. But what did you see?"
"They had a huge army. It easily outnumbered us, I'd say about, forty to one in total." This aroused a gasp from the council members.
"I say! Bad form wot! Outnumbering a chap like that!"
"If they laid siege to us we would be decimated!"
"We can't take this lying down! We have to attack now!"
"Silence!" Sade shouted over them. "Fucasou, what do you propose we do?"
"We must find the next Gold Dragon and defeat them before they cross the North-South divide."
"About that," Ermuul started. "Me and Marumokumba are onto something."
"Well by Oracle let it be good, for the sake of all that is good in this world."

(Disciple)

"Boss! We can't take much more of this!" The soldier shouted. He was cut in half by the Disciples axe.
"Don't give me excuses! Give me results!" He bellowed. His plan had not been going well. The front gates of Uvfar had withstood the initial charge and fire attack.
"Bring up the battering rams!" Loamhorn ordered. Two score of slaves came running up with two battering rams. The impact shook the gatehouse but the doors held firm. Loamhorn cursed and spat.
"Bah! I hope Krath is getting more done than we are." He moaned. An arrow embedded itself into the horn on his helmet, forcing him to flinch.
"Bæomoth damn it!" He shouted to the wall top archers from Uvfar. "You just wait! When I get up there I'll bash your skulls in!"

Krath had finally had enough. "RIGHT! That's it! I'm getting out of here before I die from the stench! Get up you lazy good for nothing swashbucklers! We're going to kill the Silver Dragon here and now and get it all over and done with! Then we'll see who is the mighty Warlord!" Krath launched himself out from the cargo hold with a score of his warriors. It fell quiet. Only Zeth remained in the hold, a grim smile on his face.
Krath stabbed a Blue Dragon in the chest as he tethered the boat to the dock. "Hear me! I am Krath the Warlord!" The warriors charged a group of Black Dragons; one of them was Dhzark's father.
"What the?" He was cut short, as a cutlass imbedded itself into his throat.

(Dhzark)
"Hear me! I am Krath the Warlord!"
"What in Oracles name was that?" Dhzark asked. "No time. Come on let's go!" He called over his shoulder to Miralda and Marshall as he had already began running toward the docks. Just North of the East Barracks at the riverbank.

Luke heard the commands from his superior, and understood. While he was not a fan of the Shadow Lord himself, he was the person who provided him with all the jobs. He heard that the army was moving around to attack the dragons, not all that far away, so quick cash was in his future. But, Luke had almost laughed at the comment about not coming back if he failed. If he failed, he probably wouldn't live long enough for it to matter.

Miralda sprinted off after Dhzark, unsheathing her blade and putting on her buckler. She was missing all her armor at the moment, however, and it sounded like it would come in handy. But, there was just no time.

Marshall was suddenly thanking his teacher mentally. Who knew a habit as useless as bringing everything to the training grounds would one day come in handy. He had taken a minute at first to string his bow but now had caught up to the group. Training as a scout was coming in handy too today, huh? His lucky day. Or mabye not. He ran up alongside the red that had not been talking earlier. There was no time to rush to the stables right now. The stables were nowhere near the most direct route to the area where the cries of battle emitted from. He took out an arrow from his quiver and notched it into his bow as they continued to run towards the scene of the commotion.

Seth looked up from the book once he heard the sound of battle along with someone yelling something along the lines of, "I am the Warlord!" He immediately got up and sprinted out of the Archives and headed for the docks. It was times like these that the White Dragon cursed himself for not wearing his armor. He waved his had at him body and water began to surround him before it solidified into the shape of something similar to his armor. It was nowhere near as effective as his armor, but he didn't have time. It would provide him some protection.

As he was running to the docks, he spotted three others in front of him: two Reds and one Tan. He didn't recognize any of them, but that wasn't much of a surprise since he kept to himself. He wasn't too far behind, but all of them were running so it was unlikely he'd get there before they did. As he neared the battle, his black staff appeared in him right hand. He would need the mobility yet.

Marshall approached the chaos that was at the northern shore of the barracks. These people dared to attack them in a suicide mission? It was scary. Either they were planning to catch them by complete surprise, or this was a coordinated attack. Well, if it was the second, he just had to rely on anyone at the front gates. Marshall stopped and raised his bow about 350 meters away from shore. He raiseed his bow and launched an arrow at the area of the attacking ships in an attempt to catch someone still exiting the ship. He then strung another arrow and advanced at the mayhem of the battle at a walk, hoping for an open shot at a raider.