NSP: Welcome, welcome, to Highemp's LATEST story. (LOL) I know this gets tiresome, but now I really have a story I'd like to focus on. I invite everyone, old and new, to write. I understand if Geb can't write, though perhaps he can over the holidays... hmm... Krig, too, and TLTE, of course, you three being the regulars for this type of stuff; and then anyone else at all.
Bear in mind, however, that this is a serious story. It is meant to at least semi-epic, sort of Zelda-esque, sort of Castlevania-esque, sort of all-the-RPGs-you-can-think-of-esque. So yes.
This story, only the first volume in a larger story that I hope to write with several writers (I can only hope, heh), takes place in a fantasy land, far away (simply known as the land, or the world, or the realm, or whatever; specific cosmology can be established later, as the story progresses). Basically a Christian cosmology, in that there's a Heaven and a Hell, and "clerics" of both. Also, every clan in the realms has a guardian spirit, or a Fey. My main character is LzAem, destined founder of the Aem dynasty, whose Fey is named, conveniently, Aem.![[http://forums.massassi.net/html/wink.gif]](http://forums.massassi.net/html/wink.gif "http://forums.massassi.net/html/wink.gif")
Each book/volume/chapter/whatever has 25 generations inbetween them, because this world has four moons and one sun. Every 25 generations, there is a lunar eclipse, with the moons taking random turns. Now, according to a lost prophecy, the moons will take turns, from smallest to largest, in causing a lunar eclipse: Lunar Unus; Lunar Deux; Lunar Tres; and Lunar Quaddron (names subject to change by myself or anyone else). On the fifth period (that is, after one hundred and 25 generations of 25 years each), ALL FOUR MOONS will block the sun's light, and a great miracle will supposedly happen in accord with an equally great cataclysm, or some such thing.
Book One (what we are writing now) is the FIRST lunar eclipse in this prophesied cycle, when the smallest moon is getting ready to block the sun.
It is now less than a year until Lunar Unus. Let our story begin. Any questions? Email me at Aelychana@excite.com and/or post them here!
Again, this is a serious, semi-epic story about true CHARACTERS embarking on epic adventures. It is also a chance for each writer to explore themselves, as each writer's main character MUST COME from a DIFFERENT clan, with different Fey spirit guardians. (Other characters may be from any clan.)
-----
LzAem was a simple child, who went about his business with diligence, but one with unquenchable curiosity. He devoured every scrap of parchment he could find that his Godfather Enoch would allow him to have. Though he lived on a ranch, he dreamed of the outside world more often than did most children.
Yet every time he faced the horizon, something called him away. A chore left undone, a reprimand from his godfather who raised him, or even... an unspoken fear of the unknown.
Until one day, shortly after his nineteenth birthday, his godfather called him to his chamber on the third floor of the humble manor. Now, Godfather Enoch was a very... odd person in some ways. You could not put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he walked or talked, or how his eyes sparkled even when there was no light upon them. Nonetheless, whatever the case, people in the village whispered about him wherever he trod, and LzAem, trailing along behind him, heard many of those whispers.
"He's ancient, the man..."
"...why, he was old when I was little..."
"...not human, I tell you! Not human..."
"...a demon, and I hear he tortures the poor young chap at night..."
"...have no sympathy for him, cuz he is the spawn of..."
But who or what he was the spawn of, LzAem never knew. His godfather never spoke of his parents, and every time the boy started to ask, he was told to keep his "mind in the moment". LzAem told Godfather Enoch about the whispers, but the old man merely shrugged and said, "People will say what they will, and the sun shall still rise," every time.
Now, Godfather Enoch had called a nineteen-year-old LzAem up to his chambers, which meant something important was going to happen. He was rarely, if ever, in these rooms; the last time, he had been twelve, and Godfather Enoch had brought him here, and...
-----
Young LzAem was roused out of his slumber but a firm hand to the shoulder. "Get up," Godfather Enoch said hoarsely, and wondering what was wrong, he sat up in his bed and scrabbled around for his pants.
"No time," the old man said, and jerked him out of the bed, dragging him starkers down the hallway in the freezing cold. LzAem had never been more confused... or embarassed. The pretty redheaded maid, Marianna, though at least ten years his senior, was his secret adolescent crush, and was sure to catch sight of him in his unfortunate condition.
Nonetheless, he never saw her as his godfather dragged him with amazing strength by the wrist up to his own chambers. When they reached the room, Godfather Enoch, thrust him, leaving a bruise on his wrist, and slammed the door hurriedly shut with the snikt of the lock, leaving him alone in the cold darkness...
-----
LzAem had never learned what happened that night; and he never saw Marianna again. He had actually forgotten about her until just that moment, when memory jogged an apparition into being for a moment. But oh well.
He looked around his godfather's chamber, and saw that nothing had changed in the seven years since he had last been here. Still the loose board on the floor by the bed; still the amazing display of candles on the far wall that resembled a church organ, only made of wax; and still the dust and cobwebs that made it seem as though Godfather Enoch never slept, at least not in this room.
"My boy," Godfather Enoch began, gruffly, "it is time for you to know some answers."
"Huh?" LzAem asked. "What do you mean?"
"Be quiet, boy!" Godfather Enoch grunted, then calmed. "It's imperative that you understand, LzAem, about your parents. Failing does NOT make one a failure. And Marianna, God rest her soul."
LzAem, understandably, was confused. "What are you talking about, Godfather Enoch?"
"I am the last of the Sages, LzAem, and I have accepted you under my care because it was necessary to the destiny of the realms."
A Sage! That legendary race of near-immortals whose wisdom inspired nations, and whose very word ceased battles. But how could it be? They were thought mythical, or at least extinct.
"But Godfather Enoch-"
"No questions," he grunted. "It is enough that you know. You have a destiny awaiting you, as do we all. The same evil that destroyed your parents now threatens to destroy you and all you hold dear. My power is no longer enough to stave off his advance. You must go and seek your own destiny..."
So it was that LzAem was thrust out the gates of Enoch's ranch was nothing but a satchel of supplies and the clothes on his back... and a very special talisman...
-----
Six months later...
Juste UlFrm sighed. As a 24-year-old, he was perfectly fine with getting up at 0400 hours; his body could handle it just fine. Nor was it the impending battle; he had survived plenty of those, and though they were hard, he had yet to be embittered by the constant turmoil of war, as his father before him had been.
No, what was bothering him was the sense of dread that nagged at him, that tugged at the corners of his consciousness, whispering hellish secrets to him.
"Juste?"
A soft voice lilted into the tent towards him as a shapely figure walked in. It was Susora YlGte, his betrothed. "Yes, darling?" he called wearily.
"I was just checking on you, dear Juste," she told him. "You seem... troubled."
"Perhaps because I AM troubled?" he suggested mildly.
She chuckled and tossed her black curls. "Well-received answer. But why, dear Juste? Nothing ever seems to bother you before. You've fought in wars since you were barely a lad of fifteen; you didn't flinch when your father fell beneath your eyes four years ago; and you once told me nothing could interfere with the happiness I have brought to you."
But it has interfered, Susora, oh, how it has, Juste thought to himself, but he didn't dare say aloud. "No - of course not. But it's just - this Lord Luthan: he is said to have a single-minded purpose straight from the annals of hell... and he is said to never give up."
"Such things have been said of other foes, too," Susora pointed out, "and their ashes now dust the unpaved roads of the forests."
"Yes..." Juste mused.
"Sir?" a captain called apologetically, coming into the command tent. "Sir, there's someone here to see you."
"Who?" Juste retorted.
"That young warrior from Aeris Down."
Juste perked up. "Oh, yes, the promising one. I wonder, how is Aeris Down these days?"
"I don't know, General; shall I ask him?"
Juste waved him away. "No, no; merely fetch him here and be off!"
"Yessir." The captain clicked his heels and marched away. Momentarily, he returned with a strapping lad probably still in his teenage years, one with a sure but lanky stride, tufted sandy brown hair, and frost-rimmed emeralds for eyes. He carried a satchel and wore worn leggings with a chest bare save for a strap, the back of which hoisted a short sword.
Juste glanced at the scroll laying on the table before him. "LzAem of Aeris Down?" he queried, rather unnecessarily.
The boy might have winced at the mention of his hometown; the general was not sure. Nonetheless, the measure of a man was not lack of fear but rather the courage to face it. "Yes, sir."
His voice was still fairly high, squeaking every now and then, but he seemed not to notice or to care. A high self-confidence. Another promising trait. Juste finished his initial analysis before speaking again. "I am told that you walked into this encampment with a lion following you... is this true?"
"A lion cub, actually, General," young LzAem stated wryly.
"I see. And how did you come across such a pet?"
"I met her along the way from Aeris Down" - again, the almost-wince - "to Castle Dewkin." The lad said proudly, "She was lying sick beside her mother's corpse. NOt sure how the mother died, but I nurse Gail back to health and she's followed me around ever since... as my companion," he stressed.
Juste arched an eyebrow. "Gail?"
LzAem shrugged. "Seemed to fit."
"So tell me," Juste asked, "how fares the villagers of Aer-" He cut himself off as Susora caught his eye with a subtle shake of her head. "... ah, I meant to introduce you to my betrothed, Susora YlGte."
"Pleased to meet you," she said kindly.
"Er, yes, likewise and well met," the lad said nervously.
Juste eyed LzAem, suddenly not sure if he liked him. Nonetheless, his martial skills would be needed in the upcoming fight.
-----
When LzAem had left, Juste turned to Susora. "What is it?" he asked.
She cast a sad eye upon his retreating shadow on the other side of the tent flap, then turned to Juste. "Do not ask him about Aeris Down. It-" She cast her eyes downward. "It is no more."
"What?!" Juste was taken aback, but he believed his bride-to-be. Susora was an empath, able to telepathically tap into other people's thoughts and emotions and share them with others. "How can this be? I was counting on getting reinforcements from them!"
Susora shook her head. "I do not know. But I fear the worst. I fear for the hand of Luthan."
-----
LzAem headed back to his tent. He actually slept outside, despite the rain, for numerous different reasosn. One, his fellow tentmates didn't appreciate the presence of a menacing (so they thought) lioness in their midst; and two, the rain soothed him, washed over his face and chest, soaking his pants, cleaning him all over.
And he remembered. Aeris Down. Godfather Enoch...
-----
Walking from the ranch to the village, LzAem had noticed that the birds and beasts were still. Trouble?
He crept cautiously into Aeris Down, the engladed valley town, and it looked normal, the same as any other night. Then he saw the shadows.
They were twisted shapes, malevolently altered forms... and they started MOANING, this horrible keening moan, as though they sounded the very knell of death itself.
Frantically, LzAem rushed into the nearest house. Everything was fine. A fire was still lit in the oven, food was on the table and the old woman who lived there with her two grandchildren was sitting at the table.
Just when his heart began to stop pounding, he realized something. The woman wasn't moving. She was completely, utterly still. DEATHLY still.
He rushed toward her and coming aside her, he saw. He saw the terrible fate that had befallen the good people of Aeris Down. It was too horrible to describe. Daggers in the shape of crucifixes - CRUCIFIXES! - impaling them all through the chest to their beds, their chairs, their walls. All mocked up in normal positions, like a wax figure museum, all appearing to be caught in one moment of activity.
The women, the children, everyone had suffered the same fate, seemingly all at once. And the worst part was... their faces. Their expressions were normal. Like nothing had ever happened to them. Like reality wasn't what it was. But it was.
In life, they had mocked death. Now in death, they mocked life.
He ran out into the streets, screaming for anyone who could hear him. But all was silent. No one was there. They were all dead. Then he thought - Godfather Enoch.
He ran back through the woods the way whence he came.
-----
That was as much as LzAem dreamed that night before dawn's early light sliced through his eyelids, waking him. Gail came up to his side and purred, and he patted her fondly.
Well, since then, he had made his way, using the martial skills his godfather had taught him and proving to be remarkably good at it, if a bit rough in the execution. He had heard of Lord Luthan's advance on the western frontiers of the land, and had heard the rumors that he was Hell's Emissary himself. If so, only such a force could be responsible for such demented death as had happened in Aeris Down...
------------------
Quest on epic adventures or duel at the High Citadel!
[This message has been edited by Highemperor (edited December 11, 2003).]
Bear in mind, however, that this is a serious story. It is meant to at least semi-epic, sort of Zelda-esque, sort of Castlevania-esque, sort of all-the-RPGs-you-can-think-of-esque. So yes.
This story, only the first volume in a larger story that I hope to write with several writers (I can only hope, heh), takes place in a fantasy land, far away (simply known as the land, or the world, or the realm, or whatever; specific cosmology can be established later, as the story progresses). Basically a Christian cosmology, in that there's a Heaven and a Hell, and "clerics" of both. Also, every clan in the realms has a guardian spirit, or a Fey. My main character is LzAem, destined founder of the Aem dynasty, whose Fey is named, conveniently, Aem.
Each book/volume/chapter/whatever has 25 generations inbetween them, because this world has four moons and one sun. Every 25 generations, there is a lunar eclipse, with the moons taking random turns. Now, according to a lost prophecy, the moons will take turns, from smallest to largest, in causing a lunar eclipse: Lunar Unus; Lunar Deux; Lunar Tres; and Lunar Quaddron (names subject to change by myself or anyone else). On the fifth period (that is, after one hundred and 25 generations of 25 years each), ALL FOUR MOONS will block the sun's light, and a great miracle will supposedly happen in accord with an equally great cataclysm, or some such thing.
Book One (what we are writing now) is the FIRST lunar eclipse in this prophesied cycle, when the smallest moon is getting ready to block the sun.
It is now less than a year until Lunar Unus. Let our story begin. Any questions? Email me at Aelychana@excite.com and/or post them here!
Again, this is a serious, semi-epic story about true CHARACTERS embarking on epic adventures. It is also a chance for each writer to explore themselves, as each writer's main character MUST COME from a DIFFERENT clan, with different Fey spirit guardians. (Other characters may be from any clan.)
-----
LzAem was a simple child, who went about his business with diligence, but one with unquenchable curiosity. He devoured every scrap of parchment he could find that his Godfather Enoch would allow him to have. Though he lived on a ranch, he dreamed of the outside world more often than did most children.
Yet every time he faced the horizon, something called him away. A chore left undone, a reprimand from his godfather who raised him, or even... an unspoken fear of the unknown.
Until one day, shortly after his nineteenth birthday, his godfather called him to his chamber on the third floor of the humble manor. Now, Godfather Enoch was a very... odd person in some ways. You could not put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he walked or talked, or how his eyes sparkled even when there was no light upon them. Nonetheless, whatever the case, people in the village whispered about him wherever he trod, and LzAem, trailing along behind him, heard many of those whispers.
"He's ancient, the man..."
"...why, he was old when I was little..."
"...not human, I tell you! Not human..."
"...a demon, and I hear he tortures the poor young chap at night..."
"...have no sympathy for him, cuz he is the spawn of..."
But who or what he was the spawn of, LzAem never knew. His godfather never spoke of his parents, and every time the boy started to ask, he was told to keep his "mind in the moment". LzAem told Godfather Enoch about the whispers, but the old man merely shrugged and said, "People will say what they will, and the sun shall still rise," every time.
Now, Godfather Enoch had called a nineteen-year-old LzAem up to his chambers, which meant something important was going to happen. He was rarely, if ever, in these rooms; the last time, he had been twelve, and Godfather Enoch had brought him here, and...
-----
Young LzAem was roused out of his slumber but a firm hand to the shoulder. "Get up," Godfather Enoch said hoarsely, and wondering what was wrong, he sat up in his bed and scrabbled around for his pants.
"No time," the old man said, and jerked him out of the bed, dragging him starkers down the hallway in the freezing cold. LzAem had never been more confused... or embarassed. The pretty redheaded maid, Marianna, though at least ten years his senior, was his secret adolescent crush, and was sure to catch sight of him in his unfortunate condition.
Nonetheless, he never saw her as his godfather dragged him with amazing strength by the wrist up to his own chambers. When they reached the room, Godfather Enoch, thrust him, leaving a bruise on his wrist, and slammed the door hurriedly shut with the snikt of the lock, leaving him alone in the cold darkness...
-----
LzAem had never learned what happened that night; and he never saw Marianna again. He had actually forgotten about her until just that moment, when memory jogged an apparition into being for a moment. But oh well.
He looked around his godfather's chamber, and saw that nothing had changed in the seven years since he had last been here. Still the loose board on the floor by the bed; still the amazing display of candles on the far wall that resembled a church organ, only made of wax; and still the dust and cobwebs that made it seem as though Godfather Enoch never slept, at least not in this room.
"My boy," Godfather Enoch began, gruffly, "it is time for you to know some answers."
"Huh?" LzAem asked. "What do you mean?"
"Be quiet, boy!" Godfather Enoch grunted, then calmed. "It's imperative that you understand, LzAem, about your parents. Failing does NOT make one a failure. And Marianna, God rest her soul."
LzAem, understandably, was confused. "What are you talking about, Godfather Enoch?"
"I am the last of the Sages, LzAem, and I have accepted you under my care because it was necessary to the destiny of the realms."
A Sage! That legendary race of near-immortals whose wisdom inspired nations, and whose very word ceased battles. But how could it be? They were thought mythical, or at least extinct.
"But Godfather Enoch-"
"No questions," he grunted. "It is enough that you know. You have a destiny awaiting you, as do we all. The same evil that destroyed your parents now threatens to destroy you and all you hold dear. My power is no longer enough to stave off his advance. You must go and seek your own destiny..."
So it was that LzAem was thrust out the gates of Enoch's ranch was nothing but a satchel of supplies and the clothes on his back... and a very special talisman...
-----
Six months later...
Juste UlFrm sighed. As a 24-year-old, he was perfectly fine with getting up at 0400 hours; his body could handle it just fine. Nor was it the impending battle; he had survived plenty of those, and though they were hard, he had yet to be embittered by the constant turmoil of war, as his father before him had been.
No, what was bothering him was the sense of dread that nagged at him, that tugged at the corners of his consciousness, whispering hellish secrets to him.
"Juste?"
A soft voice lilted into the tent towards him as a shapely figure walked in. It was Susora YlGte, his betrothed. "Yes, darling?" he called wearily.
"I was just checking on you, dear Juste," she told him. "You seem... troubled."
"Perhaps because I AM troubled?" he suggested mildly.
She chuckled and tossed her black curls. "Well-received answer. But why, dear Juste? Nothing ever seems to bother you before. You've fought in wars since you were barely a lad of fifteen; you didn't flinch when your father fell beneath your eyes four years ago; and you once told me nothing could interfere with the happiness I have brought to you."
But it has interfered, Susora, oh, how it has, Juste thought to himself, but he didn't dare say aloud. "No - of course not. But it's just - this Lord Luthan: he is said to have a single-minded purpose straight from the annals of hell... and he is said to never give up."
"Such things have been said of other foes, too," Susora pointed out, "and their ashes now dust the unpaved roads of the forests."
"Yes..." Juste mused.
"Sir?" a captain called apologetically, coming into the command tent. "Sir, there's someone here to see you."
"Who?" Juste retorted.
"That young warrior from Aeris Down."
Juste perked up. "Oh, yes, the promising one. I wonder, how is Aeris Down these days?"
"I don't know, General; shall I ask him?"
Juste waved him away. "No, no; merely fetch him here and be off!"
"Yessir." The captain clicked his heels and marched away. Momentarily, he returned with a strapping lad probably still in his teenage years, one with a sure but lanky stride, tufted sandy brown hair, and frost-rimmed emeralds for eyes. He carried a satchel and wore worn leggings with a chest bare save for a strap, the back of which hoisted a short sword.
Juste glanced at the scroll laying on the table before him. "LzAem of Aeris Down?" he queried, rather unnecessarily.
The boy might have winced at the mention of his hometown; the general was not sure. Nonetheless, the measure of a man was not lack of fear but rather the courage to face it. "Yes, sir."
His voice was still fairly high, squeaking every now and then, but he seemed not to notice or to care. A high self-confidence. Another promising trait. Juste finished his initial analysis before speaking again. "I am told that you walked into this encampment with a lion following you... is this true?"
"A lion cub, actually, General," young LzAem stated wryly.
"I see. And how did you come across such a pet?"
"I met her along the way from Aeris Down" - again, the almost-wince - "to Castle Dewkin." The lad said proudly, "She was lying sick beside her mother's corpse. NOt sure how the mother died, but I nurse Gail back to health and she's followed me around ever since... as my companion," he stressed.
Juste arched an eyebrow. "Gail?"
LzAem shrugged. "Seemed to fit."
"So tell me," Juste asked, "how fares the villagers of Aer-" He cut himself off as Susora caught his eye with a subtle shake of her head. "... ah, I meant to introduce you to my betrothed, Susora YlGte."
"Pleased to meet you," she said kindly.
"Er, yes, likewise and well met," the lad said nervously.
Juste eyed LzAem, suddenly not sure if he liked him. Nonetheless, his martial skills would be needed in the upcoming fight.
-----
When LzAem had left, Juste turned to Susora. "What is it?" he asked.
She cast a sad eye upon his retreating shadow on the other side of the tent flap, then turned to Juste. "Do not ask him about Aeris Down. It-" She cast her eyes downward. "It is no more."
"What?!" Juste was taken aback, but he believed his bride-to-be. Susora was an empath, able to telepathically tap into other people's thoughts and emotions and share them with others. "How can this be? I was counting on getting reinforcements from them!"
Susora shook her head. "I do not know. But I fear the worst. I fear for the hand of Luthan."
-----
LzAem headed back to his tent. He actually slept outside, despite the rain, for numerous different reasosn. One, his fellow tentmates didn't appreciate the presence of a menacing (so they thought) lioness in their midst; and two, the rain soothed him, washed over his face and chest, soaking his pants, cleaning him all over.
And he remembered. Aeris Down. Godfather Enoch...
-----
Walking from the ranch to the village, LzAem had noticed that the birds and beasts were still. Trouble?
He crept cautiously into Aeris Down, the engladed valley town, and it looked normal, the same as any other night. Then he saw the shadows.
They were twisted shapes, malevolently altered forms... and they started MOANING, this horrible keening moan, as though they sounded the very knell of death itself.
Frantically, LzAem rushed into the nearest house. Everything was fine. A fire was still lit in the oven, food was on the table and the old woman who lived there with her two grandchildren was sitting at the table.
Just when his heart began to stop pounding, he realized something. The woman wasn't moving. She was completely, utterly still. DEATHLY still.
He rushed toward her and coming aside her, he saw. He saw the terrible fate that had befallen the good people of Aeris Down. It was too horrible to describe. Daggers in the shape of crucifixes - CRUCIFIXES! - impaling them all through the chest to their beds, their chairs, their walls. All mocked up in normal positions, like a wax figure museum, all appearing to be caught in one moment of activity.
The women, the children, everyone had suffered the same fate, seemingly all at once. And the worst part was... their faces. Their expressions were normal. Like nothing had ever happened to them. Like reality wasn't what it was. But it was.
In life, they had mocked death. Now in death, they mocked life.
He ran out into the streets, screaming for anyone who could hear him. But all was silent. No one was there. They were all dead. Then he thought - Godfather Enoch.
He ran back through the woods the way whence he came.
-----
That was as much as LzAem dreamed that night before dawn's early light sliced through his eyelids, waking him. Gail came up to his side and purred, and he patted her fondly.
Well, since then, he had made his way, using the martial skills his godfather had taught him and proving to be remarkably good at it, if a bit rough in the execution. He had heard of Lord Luthan's advance on the western frontiers of the land, and had heard the rumors that he was Hell's Emissary himself. If so, only such a force could be responsible for such demented death as had happened in Aeris Down...
------------------
Quest on epic adventures or duel at the High Citadel!
[This message has been edited by Highemperor (edited December 11, 2003).]
Visit my all-new website, the [url=http://com3.runboard.com/blazaruscitadel]Lazarus Citadel[/url!