Immediately after my last post, within the week, I took on additional responsibilities that took me away from what I thought was going to be an excellent opportunity to catch up on my writing. I am still beholden to those responsibilities, even as we enter a new time of disease and uncertainty. While many work from home or are unemployed, I still have my job and other responsibilities. Please understand, I am not complaining. I am just doing my best to clarify what my situation is. However, despite my busy schedule, I am trying to make time to write. It’s been over a year since I’ve done any substantial writing for this site, and that needs to change. I am still invested in Tom, Aaron, Catalina, Kristin and their stories, and I hope to make today the turning point for my writing. As a small offering of gratitude, I give you this.

Tom: A Glimpse Behind The Shield

 

Everyone always remembers Tom for his valor, his strength, his skill and his determination, but rarely do they remember his truest aspect: his love. Kind to a fault and friend of all, he had moments that would make the hardest man break.

When Thalia was wandering the wilderness, alone and freezing, Tom found her and carried her to safety. While she lay in bed, unconscious and injured, he sat in her room, keeping vigil for the medics. If you asked Tom, he would say it was nothing, the bare minimum of human dignity. If you asked Thalia, she would say it was the most kindness and compassion that she had been shown in her whole life.

When Catalina was stricken by the loss of her father, Tom held her close and refused to let her go until she could stand on her own two feet. He didn’t say a word; he just let his warmth and love fill her.

When Ghost was bloodied and dying, Tom personally attended to his wounds and nursed him back to health. Ghost was a feral dog, and barely alive, but Tom refused to let him perish without a good fight. Tom made a lifelong friend that day, and, in the final days, Tom held Ghost and wept the tears of a man who lost his dearest friend.

When Anna lost all hope and gave in to despair, Tom was there to be her light in the darkness. He looked her in the eye and, with love and sincerity, promised her that everything was alright. Anna believed him when he said she was stronger than her demons.

When Specs was breathing his last breaths, it was Tom, of all people, who held him in his lap and stroked his fur. During Specs’ life, you could have sworn Tom hated that cat, and he said as much. Specs reciprocated the feelings. However, when Specs was on death’s door, it was Tom who insisted on ferrying him to the next world, and that meant more to Specs than the world. He lived as Tom’s perpetual foe, but died as an unequivocal friend.

Tom’s kindness, warmth and love don’t stop there, but the magnitude of his impact can be seen even from these few examples.

A little something I thought of today, courtesy of a rather spirited elderly woman with some passionate political opinions.

Thunder and Water

Perun had come to the gate of an ancient city, desolate and forsaken. To most travellers, this would be a sure sign that they had veered from the path and should immediately rectify the situation. Perun, however, was not most travellers.

“Devil’s Rest, the last stand of the Deathless Army,” the young wanderer muttered too himself. “Ironic, that the ‘deathless’ met their ultimate fate in such an ignoble manner.”

“Ah, a fellow history buff. Amazing, the people you meet in the middle of nowhere.”

Perun turned to find the source of the voice: a black-haired man nearly two decades his senior, leaning on a halberd and carrying two swords at his hip.

“Who are you?” Perun asked, scanning the man.

The man was dressed in all black, from his weather-worn travelling robe to his freshly made boots. On his hands were four rings, each one magical, as far as Perun could tell. Around his neck were a couple of necklaces, humble in appearance but each with a beautifully crafted amulet at the end. The most extravagant part of his appearance was also the most telling: a masterfully made breastplate, polished to a silvery luster.

“A man of no consequence, I assure you. In all likelihood, history will not remember me,” the man replied, a lopsided grin adorning his black bearded jaw. “May I ask who you are?”

“A man with no name,” Perun retorted, his brilliant yellow eyes meeting his fellow traveller’s own deep blues.

Or rather, just one deep blue–the man had a single functioning eye in his head. The other eye had been replaced by a eerily realistic stone replica.

“A clever one, aren’t you? Well, I can hardly fault you for being cautious. Apostates aren’t often well received these days.”

“How did you know that!?” Perun demanded, unnerved by this stranger’s perceptive abilities. “Why are you here!?”

“I know a thing or two, and you just ooze apostate magic from every pore,” the stone-eyed man laughed. “But I’m here for a completely unrelated reason. I’m seeking an ancient artifact, and as soon as I find it, I’ll be on my way. How about yourself? What brings you to this stretch of land?”

Perun could feel that something was abnormal about this man. He did not buy his story, and clearly he was no simple wanderer. Perun’s hands started sparking with magical energy.

“I am here for answers, I suppose you could say,” Perun enigmatically confessed.

“Vague, but I won’t press the issue. You are clearly under a great deal of stress,” the man observed, his grin never fading. “Well, since we’re headed in the same direction, why not help each other out? You lend me your eyes, so it’s easier to see the artifact, and I lend you my knowledge and experience, so you can find your answers. What do you say?”

“Liar!” Perun screamed, lightning erupting from his hands. “You’re hunting me, aren’t you!? You’re working for those sadists at the lab, aren’t you!?”

“Oh, dear. I’m afraid you couldn’t be further from the truth. I have something of a dispute with them, myself. We’re not exactly buddies, if you catch my meaning.”

“I don’t believe you!” Perun screamed, launching a bolt of lightning at the man, only to have him sidestep it like it was nothing. “Who are you?”

“Simply a traveller, seeking a trinket of days past,” the man said, amused. “You should work on that temper. It’ll get you into trouble.”

Perun fired off another, more powerful blast, only to have the man evade it just as easily as he had before.

“Need to work on that aim, too,” the man pondered.

Perun rushed forward, charging his body with lightning magic. He unleashed a flurry of blows upon his opponent, but the dauntless man evaded every single one. In a desperate attempt to claim victory, Perun tried to grab the man, only to have his arms thrust aside by a well timed deflection.

“Calm down. I’m not here to attack you,” the man assured him, his face showing concern.

Perun doubled down on his efforts, only to meet with the same results. Charging up one final punch, he punched with all his might. In his amazement, not only did the man catch his fist mid-punch, he also managed to squelch the electricity coursing through it. Perun could do nothing stand there in shock, his mouth agape.

“Listen, kid. You’ve got some serious power, but you have no idea how to use it. Find a master, learn to control your power, and learn to control your temper while you’re at it. Now, I understand if you’d rather not travel with me after all this, so, if it’s cool with you, I’ll come back later. My business isn’t that urgent, so I’ll let you find your answers.”

Perun was still paralyzed as the man walked away. When he finally recovered, he raced to catch up to the man.

“Hold up! Hey, wait!” Perun demanded, but the man continued his march. “Please!”

“Ah, the magic word. I suppose I have to stop now. What’s up?”

“Can you. . .can you help me? Find answers, I mean.”

“Certainly, as long as you help me find that artifact.”

“Of course. A fair deal.”

“Excellent. Let’s try that introduction again. I’m Tom, nice to meet you,” the man declared, smiling even wider than before.

I’m so sorry this took so long to get done. I’ve had the final draft sitting in my hands for a couple weeks now, but between work and personal issues, I haven’t had the time to post it. SO here it is. After countless months, it’s here.

Chronicles of Koeleth: The River’s Tale

Chapter X

White Wings

 

“I had the dream again. Only, this time, there was more.”

Tom’s face reflected his inner anguish; this was not the first time he and Theo had discussed this topic.

“Again?” Theo asked, trying to hide his concern behind a skeptical façade. “You’ve got to let it go, man.”

“I wish I could, Theo, but…what if history repeats itself?”

“You’ve grown; you were naïve and stupid then, but not anymore. Well, you’re not naïve anymore, at least,” Theo quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’m here this time to make sure you don’t screw it all up.”

“Thanks a lot!” Tom replied, his words oozing with sarcasm. “You’re a real friend!”

“Listen, Tom,” Theo said, his jovial smile fading into a stern gaze. “There’s something going on in that head of yours that you need to sort out. What is it?”

“…Fine. Let’s find a quiet corner. I don’t like the idea of talking in the open.”

 

The old man dropped his head for a moment, staring into his now empty teacup. Without a word, the bartender topped it off. Despite his earlier comments, he and the farmer were sitting at the old man’s table, enchanted by the elder’s story. Several veteran barflies were stumbling their way into the tavern, ready to drown their sorrows in mugs of firewater. A handful of them congregated around the small group, curious as to what was going on.

“Well,” the bartender impatiently urged, attending to the new audience. “Tell us, old man.”

The man stirred his tea for a few more silent seconds before continuing his tale.

 

“So, you had the dream again,” Theo began, echoing his companion’s ominious remarks. “What happened?”

“It started off as usual. The typical jeering and mockery from that vile wretch of a woman,” Tom spat, his vitriol on full display. “I saw their deaths unfold all over again. I saw the arrows stuck in Ed’s body, all over, like a bloody damn pin cushion. I saw Smiles, a gaping hole in his shoulder left by an Arilese axe. I saw Morgan the Fire-Daughter, the spray of blood from her heart coating my face.”

Tom took a deep breath, barely containing the tears welling up in his eyes. Taking a sip of ale to regain his composure, he recalled the final death.

“And then there was Moony. The image of his anguished face and the heat of his blood are burned eternally into my mind. I had to watch for the hundredth time as he took his last few breaths in my arms. The taste of iron and the smell of death filled my lungs. There was no end to the crimson stream coming from his wounds.”

Tom took two deep swigs of ale, trying to drown his agony.

“And?” Theo asked, already well aware of what followed.

“And then it was my turn. I felt the cold steel of her knife as she perched it in my back—just enough to wound, not to kill. It was a bitter kiss that touched my lips.”

Tom slammed the table hard enough to draw the attention of even the drunkest of vagrants. Tom apologetically waved away the watchers.

“The usual, then?” Theo inquired rhetorically, sipping uneasily at his own drink. “So what makes this time different?”

“She didn’t stop at my past. She showed me glimpses of a horrid future. I watched helplessly as innocent people were executed. In particular, a child, who seemed familiar, was slain, his body dissolving into a brilliant light.”

“Who?” Theo asked nervously.

“I don’t know. The visions weren’t as clear—or as real—as the ones from my past. The people were just faceless shadows, and the executioners were abstract monstrosities. Except the last one. That one felt too real…”

Tom’s thoughts trailed off as a somber look adorned his face.

“What? What is it?” Theo pressed.

“It was you.”

“What…happened to me?” Theo said, after a few moments of silence.

“You stood there, baring your chest to a demonic beast. It slashed at your chest, and you did nothing to prevent it. That…was the last thing I saw before I was consumed by a dragon. The dragon proceeded to devour the beast and the executioners, leaving a swathe of death in its wake. All the while, that woman mocked me. That’s where the dream ended. And then I woke up screaming. I admit the latter half of the dream was a bit out there, but it felt too real to ignore.”

“I…I see. Well, I think you shouldn’t take it so seriously. It is just a dream after all. Besides, why would I just let myself die? I’m too selfish for that.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll try to forget it. Still, I don’t like the timing of this.”

“Take it easy, friend,” Theo encouraged, placing his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “And rest up! Bad dreams or no, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

Tom sighed, agreeing with his fellow mercenary’s assessment, and set off for bed.

 

Tom awoke in his inn room late in the morning, only to find that his roommate was not in the other bed. A quick check revealed that the only other person from his company that was still at the inn at all was Aaron, who was passing the time by sleeping. Tom woke up the insouciant thief and the two of them left to rejoin their comrades. Upon arriving, they found that the camp was already preparing for travel and the others were busy at work helping them. Theo was helping Suren and the camp’s tailor pack up their supplies. The others were helping in their own capacity, as well. Grace, Dennis and Gabriel were already discussing the travel arrangements for the days ahead, so Tom joined them while Aaron nestled himself into a tree to sleep. When she saw Tom, Rydia, who was contentedly playing by herself, immediately got up and ran over to him in wolf form. After a quick pat on the head, she bounded off to once more entertain herself.

“Good morning, Mr. Riversedge,” Gabriel greeted, a twinge of mistrust still in his voice. “We have been discussing the plan, and given that there has been an…upset in the plan, we thought it would be best if we redirected our course. Seeing as our previous course has been compromised, and since you seem like a capable traveler, we would like your opinion on the matter.”

“Alright,” Tom replied, jumping at the opportunity. “Well, if that’s the case, I have a few suggestions. First of all, we were lucky no one was seriously harmed in this conflict. We won’t be so lucky next time. We need to train some of your people to actually fight. Darren and Owen definitely show some skill and some of the others’ powers lend themselves really well to combat. They won’t be on the same level as Theo or myself, but they will do. For that, we need a place to camp for a day or two. Secondly, if you’re going to have a fighting force, you’re going to need weapons. I couldn’t help but notice that only a couple of your people, Darren and Owen, bother to carry weapons. Wealthy merchants at one time, I imagine? Regardless, if you encounter a magic-cancelling ability, your fighters need a back-up plan. You don’t seem to have a blacksmith, and I wouldn’t risk staying in town for too long, so I will need to spend a couple days at the forge. The weapons won’t be fantastic, but they only need to last for a month or so, until you get to this Cryptid Oasis that we’re headed for. Third and final, we need to camp in a safe place, if we adhere to the previous two points. Now, based on what I know, there is an ancient underground city not far from here, two days at the most. I’ve never been there myself, but it is by all accounts abandoned, and no one would waste the resources to go there without a very good reason. We’ll be hidden, protected, and safe for at least three days. Beyond that, we risk discovery and being under siege. If you want to go there, let me get together with Amelia and Collin. Amelia is the best wilderness guide I’ve ever met, and Collin is a scholar of ancient architecture.”

Confronted with all this information, there was little more that the abominations had to discuss.

“You seem to know what you are doing, Mr. Riversedge,” Gabriel admitted. “We have no reason to suspect you of using this against us, so I have no choice but to trust you in this. We agree to your plan.”

“Great. Amelia, Collin and I will put together a strategy and get back to you.”

“In the meantime,” Grace added, “we’ll tell the others.”

Tom and the triad parted ways to tend to their respective duties. Over in another area, Theo and Suren were discussing a few things and getting to know one another better.

“No, I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before. A couple of flirtatious encounters, but nothing worth noting. You?” Theo responded to Suren.

“Well, no. I’ve never had any sort of boyfriend. Not even any of those ‘flirtatious encounters’ you mentioned. How…how serious were those, by the way?”

“They weren’t. I swear on my life, it stopped at flirting.”

“W-well, that’s good.”

“So,” Theo inquired as he lifted a barrel into the tailor’s wagon. “What exactly is your power? You’ve seen mine, so it’s only fair I get to see yours.”

“Ugh! How rude! You never ask a lady that,” Suren glibly retorted.

“You make it sound like I was suggesting something crude.”

“Well,” Suren blushed in response. “It’s embarrassing!”

“How bad could it really be?” Theo jested.

“Fine, if you must know,” Suren sullenly replied. She raised her arms in the air, revealing two obscure holes in the sides of her otherwise modest dress. One quick and seamless motion later, and she had two new arms sticking out of those holes. “There. Happy now?” she muttered, her face a new shade of red.

“Wow! That’s awesome. Why are you so embarrassed about having an extra pair of arms? Think of all the uses!” Theo marveled.

“Hey!” Suren shouted in response, slapping Theo on the shoulder with one of her right arms.

“I wasn’t thinking anything dirty, honest! Jeez, ever since Tom told that one story, you just assume everything I say is perverse. I swear I’m not like that!”

“W-well, good! A-anyways, these extra arms aren’t as useful as you think. If I were a physically strong person, I could do quite a bit with them, but I’m actually pretty weak. They’re convenient when I need to hold several things at once, but that’s usually the most useful they are.”

“I see…Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think it’s an awesome power. And…” Theo began, blushing himself now, “I think you look just as cute with them as you do without.”

“W-w-well, t-t-t-thank y-you,” Suren bashfully stuttered.

For a few moments, there was only silence, save for the tailor chuckling under his breath. Theo and Suren continued working in silence, avoiding eye contact.

“Wow! I’ve never seen Theo fumble over his words before! Way to go, Suren! You really hooked him!” Tom joked. “Theo, you’ve always been so smooth when you’ve flirted with the ladies in the past, but this one’s thrown you for a loop, hasn’t she?”

“Sh-shut up, Tom!” Theo shot back, his face practically on fire now. “At least I don’t have a trail of broken hearts in my wake!”

“If that’s the best you’ve got, you’ve lost your edge! Anyways, I just came by to see if I could get Theo’s help, but it seems as if you two were caught up in a romantic moment, so I’ll come back later.”

As he said he would, Tom left the two to their own devices.

“The nerve of that guy. It’s a wonder I consider him my best friend,” Theo muttered in frustration. “Anyways, where were we?”

“I believe you were complimenting me,” Suren chimed, simultaneously hopeful and embarrassed.

“Ah, right. I’ll get back to it, then. Shouldn’t be hard when you’re so beautiful.”

Theo laid it on thick and before long the two of them had completely forgotten about the task at hand and were instead awkwardly flirting with one another.

After a couple of hours, Tom, Amelia, and Collin had settled on a course of action. In order to get to the underground city of Earthgift, they would leave the road completely and follow an old trail through a lifeless woodland nearby. It was aptly and unoriginally called the Dead Forest, and it had been so for as many centuries as Darwin’s Expanse had been a dry wasteland. The ancient and withered trees offered little protection from the hunter’s gaze. However, its lack of resources and habitable areas meant that few, if any, travelled the single path that still wound through its rotting husk. The absence of traffic meant that the abominations could travel the road without fear of being found by their pursuers. They would be able to camp at Earthgift for four days when they arrived. While there, they could take as much time as they needed to prepare for the remainder of the journey. The three schemers brought their plan to Dennis, Grace and Gabriel, who, seeing no other options, agreed to it. Since the camp was already packed, it did not take long for them to hit the road.

Well, what is there to say? The second chapter is ready. I think.

Chronicles of Koeleth Extra Chapter

The Ender of Worlds: The Saving of a Man

Chapter 2: Student and Mentor

 

            “So, I’m here. What are we doing?” Thomas asked, sounding far more insolent than he intended.

The training grounds were a vast patch of dry, dusty earth—something fairly uncommon in Sorowa’s Cradle. Behind the young warrior, not five feet away, was a large wooden door leading to the main chamber of the guildhall. There were few things about Cradle-of-the-Moon that were impressive, especially when compared to Ramsthrone, the glimmering capital of its western neighbor, Ramsrest, but it took good care of what few organizations called the city home. The Adventurers’ Guild was no exception; though not the lavish training grounds of the Royal City’s chapter, these training grounds were not lacking. There was an archery range, several training dummies for melee combat, a small field for horsemen, and a handful of fighting rings. At the far end of the site, opposite Thomas’ current position, was a small arena. He was new to the guild, but he was aware that the arena was the real proving grounds. That was where captains were made, where grudges were settled, and where glory was earned. None of this meant much to Thomas. He had other motives for being here.

Marcus, leaning up against a fence post, observed the rookie as he took in the scenery. This must have been the first time he had actually set foot on the training grounds. Thomas was standing between the archery range and a fighting ring, analyzing the resources available to him. Marcus had heard Thomas’ question but allowed him the time to take in his surroundings.

“We’re training,” the veteran adventurer finally declared, disturbing his apprentice’s thoughts. “Why do you think we’re at the training grounds?”

“Haha, very funny,” Thomas replied sullenly, trying to read Marcus’ stoic face.

Marcus had to stifle a chuckle and reminded himself he was dealing with someone who was still quite young.

“You tell me,” the captain said, as Thomas approached him. “What are you trained in already?”

“I know all the basic techniques of any foot soldier in the army. My father taught me; he served briefly in the service of Lord Cradleborn, but he left in order to take over the family business. He taught me to respect the weapons I made. I took an interest in swordsmanship, so he had my uncle come up from Ekoalreich—he’s the captain of the guard in a city down there—and teach me a few unique techniques. For a while, we had a wandering mercenary staying in our town—Heather Stormbrand, I believe it was—and she taught me some things. Let’s see…I know sword and shield combat, both standard Koeleth dueling and the Ekoalreich techniques, and a little bit of halberd work.”

“Family business?” Marcus asked, slightly perplexed.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a trained blacksmith.”

A blacksmith! A blacksmith! It all made sense now. This young man’s muscular body, strong grasp of weaponry, and impressive endurance were to be expected if he were accustomed to working in a forge. What possessed this smith’s son to leave home to join the Adventurers’ Guild was still beyond Marcus.

“You are skilled in melee combat?”

“That’s right.”

“What about ranged?”

“I couldn’t hit the broad side of a castle.”

“And unarmed combat?”

“Not exactly professional, but I can make do,” Thomas groaned, rubbing a bruise on his chest.

“Well, for a novice, you really did a number on Bruce and his boys,” Marcus said matter-of-factly. “But you are correct—that wasn’t exactly professional. Punched a distracted man, broke a chair over a man’s chest, kicked a man in the groin, body slammed a man, all while taking several blows. Impressive, but unprofessional. We’ll work on it.”

“So, what’s happening?”

“We’re starting with unarmed combat.”

“Are you serious? I just told you I’m not good at it.”

“Exactly. Before I train you with weapons, I’m going to train you without them.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“You came here of your own volition. If you don’t want to train with me, you are welcome to leave.”

“…Fine. I’ll do it your way.”

“Good. We’ll start with some basic maneuvers.”

Thomas followed Marcus into the nearest ring and prepared for a fight. Thomas lifted his fists and dug both feet into the ground. Marcus balanced himself , staying light on his feet; he was ready to dance around Thomas’ unconscious body. Marcus made the first move, and Thomas found himself on the ground before he could even move.

“Too slow,” Marcus observed.

“Teach me your ways, Master,” Tom joked, getting back to his feet.

“That is the most excited expression I’ve ever seen from someone who just got their ass kicked.”

“Well, I want to learn how to do it,” the rookie said, an eager grin spreading across his face.

“Let’s get started, then.”

 

Marcus followed Thomas through the door to the guild bar. Several of the bar patrons looked towards them; it wasn’t often that Marcus trained one on one with a rookie, and even rarer that he reserved a fighting ring all day for it. Bella and Evangeline were sitting at the same place they were two days prior. Upon hearing Thomas laughing Evangeline smiled, but Bella ran over to him to check on the myriad bruises adorning his face and arms.

“By the guardians, are you okay, Tom!? What happened to you!?” Bella frantically interrogated.

“I’m fine!” Tom replied jovially. “I picked up a few lessons today is all. And I think I’m ready for the next bar fight that comes along.”

“No!” Bella argued. “The idea is not to get into fights! Last time you did that you got a beating!”

“What’s all this?” Tom inquired, somewhat dumbfounded. “Why are you so worked up over that? I won that fight.”

“Only just barely! I’m worried about you! That’s why I’m so ‘worked up!’ You idiot!”

Bella marched off to the dorms in a huff.

“What was that all about?” Tom pondered aloud.

Evangeline, who had caught up to Thomas just as Bella started to leave, smacked her palm against her forehead.

“You dunce,” she said. “You better apologize to her later, Tom.”

With that she turned and followed her frustrated friend.

“For what? What did I do?” Tom muttered.

Marcus concealed a smile, marveling at how such a skilled warrior was utterly hopeless on the battlefield of social interaction. He silently removed himself to his usual corner of the bar, and Tom followed.

“So, what next?” his young student asked enthusiastically.

“Next? You take a break for the night is what’s next,” Marcus answered.

“Well, I mean, yeah, but I mean what comes after this? What do I learn then?”

“Hold up there, Tom. You’ve barely dipped your toes in the lake that is unarmed combat. Look, you’re learning quick, but let’s take on one thing at a time. Tomorrow we’ll work some more on that, but I want to work on your halberd usage as well. Why do you carry that thing around, anyways? You clearly aren’t used to using it.”

“Oh, well, that’s an interesting story! Not long after I split with my travelling companion, I—ah!” Tom began, but was interrupted by a sharp pain in his chest. “I…I guess I can save that that story for later. Right now, the adrenaline is wearing off, and my wounds aren’t fully healed. I think I need to get some rest. And apologize, I guess. Still don’t know what I did wrong…”

“You don’t have much experience with the opposite sex, do you?”

“My best friend is a girl, what’s there to know?”

“Your best friend is a girl, and you don’t know anything about women? There is little hope for you. But yes, go rest. Go apologize. Buy her a flower. Or several. Talk to Evangeline first. She’ll make sure it’s safe.”

“Safe? What do you mean by that?”

“Just trust me on this, okay?”

Marcus shooed Tom away, carefully watching the young man as he stroked his chin, deep in thought.

“That kid has no hope,” a middle-aged man said, slipping into the recently vacated booth seat.

“What do you want, Shark?” Marcus hissed.

“Ah, that’s no way to treat an old friend, is it?” the man called Shark smirked.

After a few seconds of angry glaring, Marcus’ lips started to curl at the ends, then the two men broke out into laughter. Marcus was so unaccustomed to such jubilant glee that he found his face aching from the effort.

“How are you, Shark?” Marcus inquired when he had finally caught his breath. “Finally back from that three year mission of yours, I see.”

“Oh, I’m doing fantastic. Old Theophrastus Shark is still in top shape,” the sandy blonde exclaimed, pounding a fist on his chest. “That mission was a real doozy, let me tell you. Actually, nevermind. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Haha!”

“You’re welcome to try,” Marcus answered. “Save it for later, then, when there are no prying ears?”

“Naturally. I have a lot to get off my chest. Anyhoozit, who’s the kid?”

“New apprentice.”

“Wow, the stoic raven of the guild is taking on a young fledgling, eh?” Shark guffawed, his hazel eyes open wide.

“You make it sound like I’m some sinister, uncaring monster.”

“How many people have you opened up to? I mean really warmed to?” Shark asked rhetorically.

“You want to know why?” Marcus sighed.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“He impressed me.”

“Oh? I demand more.”

Marcus explained the events of two days prior, remarked on Tom’s courage, praised his fighting ability and resourcefulness, and commented on his relative normality compared to other adventurers.

“So this kid—Thomas was his name?—he impressed you with his fighting ability and wisdom beyond his years? You know, there have been others.”

“But not like this kid. I see something of myself in him, I suppose.”

“He’s out to save the world.”

“What?”

“He’s out to save the world. Just like you.”

“You can’t save the world. Or at least I can’t.”

“And yet, when a promising hero to be shows up, you always take them under your wing. Face it, Marcus, you want to save the world. And he’s your chance.”

“…Maybe. But he’s got potential, Shark. He’s going to do things.”

“Of course he does. Don’t ruin it. Remember Abel?”

“Abel was different; he was broken. I was young, reckless. I overlooked the obvious.”

“Marcus…”

“Never mind that. Let’s drink to your health and retire to the dorms to discuss your mission.”

“…Yeah.”

 

Marcus greeted the morning with some trepidation; he knew this would be another grueling day of training with his impetuous new apprentice. He had time to think about Shark’s words. He would not make the same mistakes he had in the past. He would not have another Abel North. Thomas was not Abel; that Marcus was sure of.

“What’s on your mind?” a young voice called, cutting through the fog of regret that was clouding Marcus’ thoughts.

“Oh, Thomas, you’re here.”

“Um, yeah. I have been for a while. You okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine. Let’s begin your training,” Marcus answered, straightening himself up. “Did you manage to smooth things over with Bella?”

“Yes, question mark?” Tom replied. “I’m not sure. I still have no idea what I did wrong.”

“Hopeless. Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. You need to work on your kicks.”

 

After several days of training with Thomas, Marcus noted that his young apprentice was a quick learner. He was not quite a master of the various unarmed combat techniques that Marcus had been working on with him, but he certainly showed promise. Aside from sparring with him personally, Marcus also had him fighting against combatants who were skilled in unarmed combat; he was keeping up with accomplished adventurers and was easily overcoming some of the other rookies who specialized in unarmed styles of fighting. If this sort of principle applied to other areas of combat as well, Thomas could be a truly formidable warrior.

“Excellently done, Thomas. Mike, go ahead and take a break. You’ve earned it,” Marcus recommended.

It was not a lie. Thomas had just delivered a solid kick to his fellow apprentice’s head, knocking him clean off his feet. Mike woozily stood up, rubbing his head the whole time; Thomas helped him to the guildhall door despite his own extensive bruises.

“Hold up, Thomas. We have something to discuss.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Still as insolent as day one.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll start showing some respect when I see a reason to,” the novice adventurer joked.

“You’ll get yours someday. Listen, it’s important that you’re prepared for what’s coming. As you’re already aware, you’ll be sent out with other captains over the course of the next couple months on various missions. The goal is to find where you fit best in the guild. Of course, once you are a full member of the guild, you’ll get to choose your own missions. But, should the guild master ever need your particular services, he needs to know how to best apply your skills. You’ll do well with Cpt. Farbank and Cpt. Snowtear. They are kind and valorous, true Men of the River, and they wear their hearts on their sleeves. Cpt. Shark is an old friend of mine from days long past, and he’ll steer you true. The other captains you may serve under will not trouble you greatly either, save for one. In a few weeks, you will work with Cpt. Bleakwood; he is a hard man. He is inflexible and intolerant of any dissension. You may find that he challenges those beliefs you hold dear—stay strong. His lieutenant, Percival Searock, is a giant of a man—surely, you’ve seen him—and he is as loyal as he is skilled. If you hope to shift the tides of the mission by turning Percival to your side, you are wasting your time. However, he is a man of honor, and if you can prove yourself to him, he will reward you accordingly. Above all, take care of yourself. If you fall, Bleakwood will not help you up. He will leave you behind, if it means finishing the mission. Come back alive. You have friends waiting for you, not the least of which being a certain young miss.”

“Heh, thanks,” Thomas meekly replied, a hint of red creeping into his face. “But with you training me, there’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Let’s hope so, my friend.”

I bet you’re wondering why I’m reposting this chapter. Well, it’s simple, really: I’ve polished it up a bit. Why have I polished it up, you might ask? Well, as it so happens, I am actively working on the Ender of Worlds. The next installment will be out soon, and hopefully accompanied by the long overdue next chapter of the River’s Tale. So, take this updated version of chapter as a blessed omen of chapters to come. (I’ll be deleting the old post so that any confusion over which is he final version can be avoided.)

Chronicles of Koeleth Extra Chapter

Ender of Worlds: The Saving of a Man

Chapter I: The Rookie

            “Run! Don’t be a hero!” Marcus ordered, his grey eyes scanning the battlefield.

The young adventurers did not need to be told twice. Marcus was no stranger to fighting bandits, and he knew that there were too many here for his charges to handle. The distraction was enough for the rookies to escape, but it also provided the perfect opportunity to catch the veteran off guard. The bandits were on him like vultures on a corpse. Four of them broke off from the group and intercepted the fleeing apprentices; after a bit of a fight, however, the apprentices came out on top. One of the remaining bandits lunged recklessly towards Marcus, leaving him open to a piercing blow from Marcus’ sword. Another, upset by this turn of events, followed the foolish actions of his cohort and Marcus gladly gave him the same reward. These two must have been picked up recently, given the rest of the bandits fought at least somewhat effectively. The third bandit was proof of this, as he and Marcus exchanged several blows. One slash from the bandit’s sword even got close enough to shave away a couple strands of the long black hair that hung across Marcus’ face. A couple of other bandits ganged up on him as well, but Marcus held his ground. His skill had earned him more than a few medals at the guild already; this was no different.

“Damn,” Marcus cursed under his breath.

He dropped his left hand down to his side, a gesture that went unnoticed, but whatever course of action he had intended to take was cut off by someone else. The attacker at his back mysteriously vanished and a halberd blade removed the burdensome head from the shoulders of another. It was a clumsy blow but effective.

“I told you to run, rookie,” Marcus said sternly, hiding his relief that he was not alone.

The black clad warrior simply nodded to him and carried on the fight. In contrast to his ineloquent halberd work, Marcus was impressed by the young man’s swordsmanship. Though he carried none of his own, as the decapitated corpse fell backwards, the youth grabbed the dead man’s sword and let gravity unsheathe it. As soon as it was free of its leather cage, the sharp blade flashed into action, disarming a nearby bandit. Having lost both his weapon and his nerve, the bandit fled. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Marcus used this opportunity to take down the last of the three bandits that had been troubling him. Standing back to back, he and the novice adventurer faced down the remaining bandits, now numbering only six.

“How many can you take, rookie?” the older warrior asked his young charge.

“Let’s see, with their level of skill and that quality of equipment…three. I can take three.”

“Three, huh?” Marcus contemplated aloud. “Fine. An even split. I call the big guy.”

The two immediately got to work. With the bandit sword in his left hand and the halberd in his right, the young man handily dealt with his foes. The bandits came close to striking him a couple times, but the halberdier always managed to evade their blades. Marcus had no trouble dispatching his adversaries and even had the luxury of watching his subordinate finish off the last of their foes.

“Impressive,” he commented as the warrior cleaned off his weapons and sheathed the sword. “You took out five men. Excellently done for an apprentice. Thomas Riversedge, right?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain Fatebound,” the rookie replied. “I only got so far because you were fending off several at once, however.”

“Isn’t that how teamwork is supposed to work?” Marcus retorted in a matter-of-fact tone. “We need to discuss your issues with following orders, though. I told you to retreat.”

“I have no issues with good orders. Dumb orders, on the other hand…”

“Defiant. Gutsy. Reckless. You’ll do well in the guild,” the captain observed. “No point in calling me captain if you aren’t going to follow orders; You may call me Marcus.”

“Thank you, Capt—I mean, Marcus. You can call me Tom, I guess,” Thomas said, uncertain of what to do. “Sorry to diverge from the topic at hand, but shouldn’t we see to the other apprentices?”

“You are correct. Let us be off, then.”

Marcus watched as Thomas Riversedge turned around and began to march off, before abruptly stopping and collapsing to the ground. His eyes grew wide and his body was shaking. He began dry heaving, as the cold sweat of horror mingled with the hot sweat of battle. Marcus calmly went over to check on the rookie. The adrenaline had worn off.

“You okay, Tom?” he inquired. “You’re new to this whole killing thing, aren’t you?”

“I—huegh—I’ve only—hic—only done it o-once before,” the novice said, his face splattered in blood and tears.

His once clean, black hair now clung to his face and neck, dripping with sweat. He looked directly at Marcus for a brief moment, revealing a pair of deep blue eyes framed by a pale face. He could not be any older than seventeen, Marcus thought. This boy was strange to him; on the one hand, he fought like an experienced soldier, but, on the other, he claimed to have killed only once before. He even had the muscular body of a soldier. Perhaps his family was one of noble origin? Or maybe he was a guard’s son? Marcus was reminded of a younger version of himself in some ways. If you were to ask any random villager, however, they would never guess his true age. A young appearance was one of Marcus’ many blessings, and to most he appeared to be no older than thirty; most pegged him at twenty-six.

“What was the first time?” Marcus asked, knowing that he was pulling his young charge’s attention to unwanted memories, but also pulling it away from the current situation.

“hic—It was on my first day on my own,” Thomas recalled, starting to calm down. “I left my hometown with my best friend, but she and I parted ways after a couple days. She was off to Compassia’s Hand, and I was off to…well, here, ultimately, I guess.”

“What happened?”

“I was ambushed by a group of bandits. There were five of them. I stabbed the first with my halberd; self-preservation instinct. The next two were really bad fighters and went down easily. I got lucky with number four; I swung wildly and cracked him in the skull. Number five ran. But I didn’t chase him. I was too shocked at what I had just done.”

As he listened to the tale, Marcus’ piercing slate eyes analyzed his appearance. As attire went, Thomas wore used but clean black trousers tucked into shiny leather boots. Over his black long-sleeve shirt he wore a simple leather jerkin with the guild insignia on the back, a custom fit piece of armor issued to all new apprentices. Though cheap compared to better made leather armor, Marcus could attest to the comfort and effectiveness of the jerkin. Despite his apparent inexperience, Thomas wore the jerkin well. Marcus found himself wondering who exactly this Thomas Riversedge was and where he was headed. The boy seemed absolutely sincere, and that is what perplexed him so.

“Are you composed?” Marcus inquired, offering to help the rookie to his feet.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” he replied, taking the offer. “Let’s go.”

“Evangeline Highcrest, check,” Marcus rattled off, looking from one young face to the next. “Robin Moonwash, check. Linda Creekside, check. Solomon Beavertail, check. And, lastly, Thomas Riversedge, check. Everyone accounted for? Then let’s head back.”

The green-eyed Evangeline turned to Tom, awestruck by the slightly older adventurer’s actions, and asked, “Your name’s Thomas, right? That was amazing, what you did!”

Blushing slightly at the platinum blonde’s praise, Tom stuttered in reply, “Th-thanks, it was nothing. Um, you can just call me Tom, if you like.”

“Tom, huh? Well, I think that was really brave of you, Tom. I just ran away. That’s not a good thing for an adventurer to do, is it?”

“W-well, Marcus did tell us to, so I think it’s perfectly fine.”

“Still, what you did was so cool.”

As his charges marched towards Cradle-of-the-Moon, where their local guildhall was located, Marcus contemplated the job they had just completed. What was supposed to have been a simple mission turned into a dangerous battle when the small band of new recruits walked into an ambush. The report said that there was a small group of bandits harassing merchants and travelers, so the master of Marcus’ chapter of the Adventurers’ Guild sent him out with a group of promising apprentices. Alas, the report failed to mention what it meant by small, because what they had thought to be eight or nine bandits at most turned out to be a good fifteen, each reasonably skilled in their own right and collectively smart enough to set up a trap for any would-be interlopers. Had Marcus known what was coming, he would have brought one or two of the other captains with him. By some good fortune, or maybe some machination of the guardians, he had in his presence someone who had potential. He might have to keep an eye on this Thomas Riversedge fellow.

 

Later that night, Marcus found himself indulging in a pint of some cheap ale in a dark, secluded corner of the guild bar. He sat watching, as he always did, the bustle of the various adventurers who called the guildhall home. Apprentices sat around large tables and chattered, excited for the quests that the guild had in store for them. Most of them likely came from broken homes or orphanages, and this was their chance at a better life. Adventurers are rarely born into comfort and security. Instead, adversity drives them to seek out a greater destiny. Such was certainly the case for many of their elders. Several experienced adventurers hovered around the bar itself, seeking the sweet relief of drunken bliss. Perhaps they had returned from some harrowing adventure that had nearly claimed their lives, or maybe they were trying in vain to drown memories that had haunted them for far too long. A few of them sat at a booth, arguing. Marcus noticed that this group, a team that often went out together on missions, was short a member. They had likely lost him in battle. He understood. Another captain was already headed their way to help ease tensions. Three booths away, another group was celebrating and clearly had been for a while, given how red in the face most of the members were. Clearly they had achieved some victory. Several veteran members, like Marcus himself, sat isolated from the rest of the crowd simply observing, longing for the innocence of their youth, or drinking in the lively atmosphere, or even just pondering. A handful of them gathered around a game of chess, discussing their recent quests and whether or not they might retire now.

Amongst all the usual commotion, one thing stood out to Marcus: a lone rookie holed up in a corner of the bar, just observing. Thomas’ mouth was smiling but his eyes were scanning the room grimly. He wasn’t comfortable. And neither was Marcus, now that he thought about it. The one thing Marcus knew about the Adventurers’ Guild was that the members were a diverse cast of characters. Some of them were less friendly than others. Adventurers were widely regarded as heroes, but not all of them lived up to their reputation. The guild allowed for a wide variety of jobs, many of them coming from less than savory elements of society. Trouble was brewing, and that trouble came in the form of Bruce Draketooth. He was a somewhat skilled adventurer and the kind who took on jobs from the dark side. With him always were his thuggish companions, Joseph “Joey” Rotwood and Bertrand “Big Boy” Bluestone. Bruce slammed open the doors to the bar, his shaved head gleaming in the bright light of the bar, followed closely by the scrawny Joey and the aptly dubbed Big Boy. They each wore leather vests with the image of a treasure map and a sword emblazoned on the back, the Adventurers’ Guild’s insignia, a sure sign that these Neanderthals somehow managed to graduate from apprentice status to the real thing. They approached two female apprentices conversing at the bar. The green-eyed blonde Marcus recognized as Evangeline and the other was a cute brunette with whom she was seemingly friends.

“Hey, ladies,” Bruce interrupted with a voice reminiscent of the growl of a wolf, leering at his new acquaintances. “You’re looking ravishing this evening.”

As he said this, a chill went down Marcus’ spine. The compliment was laced with deviant hunger. Apparently, he was not the only one, as Thomas sat up straight, watching the situation intently. The girls, sensing his perverse intentions, shifted uncomfortably.

“Thanks, Mister…?” Evangeline inquired, barely hiding her unease behind a forced smile.

“My name’s Bruce, hot stuff. This is Joey, and my large friend here is Big Boy. Say hello, boys.”

“Heheh, hello, babes,” Joey laughed lecherously, like a horny weasel.

“Hey,” Big Boy bellowed like a bull hippopotamus.

“H-hi,” Evangeline’s friend fearfully replied.

“Now,” Bruce continued, “me and my boys saw you two beauties sitting over here all by your lonesome and thought you might like some company.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Evangeline started, more annoyed than anxious, “but Bella and I were having a pleasant and private conversation with each other. You boys seem like lovely gentlemen, but my friend and I are perfectly fine. Perhaps we might be more…wanting for company at some other time, but we respectfully ask that you leave us to our conversation.”

“Aw, whatsa matter? You don’t want to have any fun? We could show you a real good time,” Bruce purred eerily.

“We’re having plenty of fun by ourselves, no thanks to you. Right, Bella?”

“R-right,” Bella stuttered.

“You’ve never been with a real adventurer before, have you? You’re really missing out. My boys and I will give you the experience of your life.”

After this comment, several of the senior members of the guild had gotten up to intervene, Marcus included, but someone else beat them to it. Thomas, in the blink of an eye, was standing next to Bruce.

“C’mon, you ladies wouldn’t want to miss out on the experience of a lifetime, would you?” Bruce grinned a wicked grin, running a finger through Evangeline’s hair.

“Eww, get away!” she retorted, slapping his hand away.

“I don’t think you understand me,” Bruce said, his grin replaced by a snarl.

“Excuse me, sir,” Thomas interjected politely. “These respectable young ladies have politely declined your offer. It would be most gentlemanly of you to honor their choice, would it not?”

“Who invited you to this party?” Bruce barked.

“No one invited me,” Thomas answered, subtly putting himself between the ladies and their harassers. “I saw that there was a bit of a disagreement and thought I might offer some help. You gentlemen are certainly…ugh…impressive individuals, and I’m sure, somewhere out there, there are other women who would love your companionship. However, these lovely maidens, Evangeline and…Bella, was it?”

The brunette nodded and blushed, a slight smile gracing the corners of her lips.

“These lovely maidens, Evangeline and Bella, have expressed their desire to enjoy the remainder of the evening without the company of anyone but each other. Certainly, you gentlemen wouldn’t want to disappoint these good women, would you?”

“Keep your nose outta my business, greenhorn,” Bruce threatened.

“I am simply trying to diffuse the tension. You can hardly fault me for that.”

“Buzz off, asshole!”

Bruce pushed Thomas aside and approached the girls once more. Thomas mumbled something inaudibly.

“What did you say?” Joey said in his nasally voice.

“I don’t like bullies,” the apprentice repeated, this time louder and harsher.

“Oh yeah?” Big Boy guffawed, folding his arms menacingly. “And what are you going to do, shrimp?”

Without saying a word, Thomas drew back his left fist, adjusting his stance accordingly, and locked his eyes on Bruce’s head, which was turning to address what had become a nuisance. Marcus signaled to the other senior members to let it happen. Swiftly and solidly, the young man slammed his fist into the brutish adventurer’s jaw, knocking his head into the counter between the two girls in the process. Dazed and incoherent, Bruce slid to the floor.

“What the!? Why, you little bastard!” Joey whined, preparing a punch of his own.

Thomas deftly avoided the strike, only to be jabbed in the side by Big Boy’s meaty fist. A two on one fight without a weapon hardly seemed fair to Marcus, and it would only get worse. Thomas kept his eyes on both his opponents while subtly moving away from the bar. He dodged a powerful punch from Big Boy, but Joey snuck in a painful thrust to Thomas’ gut. Rather than slowing him down, though, Marcus noted that Thomas seemed to improve with each attack. Soon, Thomas was dodging or deflecting every blow the two underlings threw at him; he was learning about his foes even as they fought him. He was still fighting defensively, however, and as long as he did that, he could not win. Meanwhile, Bruce had come to his senses. He swallowed both of the female apprentices’ drinks, hoping to dull the throbbing ache in his head. Taking off his vest and donning a set of brass knuckles, he approached Tom. The apprentice swordsman seemed less confidant without a weapon, but Marcus was impressed at his overall dexterity. Thomas saw his chance to turn the tide of battle when Big Boy unwittingly stepped into a puddle of ale that someone had spilled. Thomas repelled a punch from Joey and jabbed him in the stomach as Big Boy swung a fat fist at his chest. Thomas rolled out of the way and watched as Big Boy lost his balance, slipping in the alcohol and falling to the ground. Joey continued his assault, negligent of his friend’s plight, forcing Thomas to back into a chair. This would have tripped up a lesser brawler, but Thomas used it to his advantage, grabbing the chair and swinging it into Joey’s legs, knocking him down. He then smashed the chair against Joey’s chest, leaving him unable to fight and possibly breaking some ribs in the process. Big Boy had stumbled back to his feet, and Bruce had arrived, knuckles ready to cause some blunt force trauma. He was a considerably better fighter than his two lackeys and Thomas had to focus most his attention on Bruce, leaving himself open to attacks by Big Boy. The large buffoon managed to get in a few cheap shots that left Thomas hurting. It was almost certainly pure luck that led to Thomas evading a swipe from Bruce that landed a damaging blow on Big Boy. While Big Boy and Bruce tried to coordinate themselves once more, Thomas climbed up onto the nearest table and launched off, body slamming the larger man, leaving him in much the same state as his ferret-like companion.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” Thomas gasped, tired and bruised.

“You knocked out my boys, interrupted my fun, and never even apologized. You’re going to regret crossing me,” Bruce growled.

Thomas simply smiled. The one on one fight went smoothly, all things considered. Thomas blocked most of Bruce’s punches, but one strike with the brass knuckles connected with Thomas’ shoulder. As he started to grow weary, and as Bruce began to get the upper hand, Thomas resorted to a crude but effective tactic: a low blow. He kneed his foe right between the legs, and, when the brute collapsed to the ground, Thomas punched him until he could not fight back. Battered but breathing, Thomas surveyed the carnage left behind by the struggle. One broken chair, several spilt ales, and three incapacitated gorillas. He knew this would not go over well with his superiors, especially given that he started the fight. Marcus and his peers breathed a collective sigh of relief, however, as the young brawler had not only protected those girls, but had also taught Bruce and his boys a lesson they would not soon forget, made all the more potent by the fact that Tom was only a rookie. The male apprentice wobbled a little, and then collapsed from his exertions. Before he hit the wooden floor, the two young women caught him. An older adventurer pushed a chair their way and they laid him down in it. Bella fastidiously cleaned his wounds, while Evangeline began cleaning up the mess. Marcus gestured for the three apprentices to come over, so Bella and Evangeline walked Thomas over to Marcus’ booth.

“Ladies, are you okay?” the veteran adventurer asked.

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

“Good, good. Go get the nurses. They’ll want to look at all of the combatants.”

“Will Thomas be okay? This is the second time today he’s come to my aid, and I am a bit concerned,” Evangeline asked.

“He’ll be fine. The nurses will tend to his wounds. In the meantime, I have something I wish to discuss with him. Now, go get the nurses and then go on with the rest of your evening as you see fit.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The two young women rushed for the nurses, Bella constantly checking over her shoulder to see if Thomas was alright. After they were gone, Marcus turned to the barely conscious Thomnas and locked eyes with him.

“Alright, kid. This is the second time in a single day you’ve jumped into a dangerous situation, and both times you’ve impressed me with your ability to fight. I think you can do better, though. You should have been able to win that brawl without getting a single scratch on your own body. There’s something strange about you, and I want to know what it is. Two days from now you’re going to meet me at the training grounds in the morning. For now, rest up. You’ve got all day tomorrow, and I have a feeling you’ll be getting a fair amount of female attention. I’m sure it would reassure them to see you recovering properly.”

Science and Koeleth butt heads. A lot. Case in point, the Oathkeeper, Tom’s iconic stone longsword. The fact of the matter is stone swords just don’t work, sans crazy magic mumbo jumbo. And the Oathkeeper isn’t magical. It’s just a sword, made of stone. In fact, gemstones don’t work either, so the Earthstar has to go, too. Honestly, metal is the only suitable material for sword making known to man. Steel, in particular, is well suited for the task of sword making. Why, you might ask, is steel so much better than minerals? It’s very simple really: steel is flexible, durable and relatively easy to repair, while stone is rigid, brittle and near impossible to repair (especially by medieval standards). Gemstone is less brittle than stone, but not enough to compensate for the advantages that steel has. The most important quality that steel has over other materials (at least as far as I can deduce) is its flexibility. A rigid sword breaks because its brittle and can’t sustain repeated impacts. Stone doesn’t have that flex. All this said, I’m not completely trashing the Oathkeeper; it’s too intertwined into the story. Not, like, fate of the world rests on this blade crucial, but simply a constant presence in Tom’s arsenal. So, my alternative is as follows: I plan to rework the story of Earthgift such that instead of cutting their weapons from stone, they forge them using the heat of volcanic magma. This slightly alters the geography of Darwin’s Expanse, but whatevs. If you’re wondering how such a smith might endure the scalding heat of subterranean molten rock, the answer is simple: talcum based protective gear. See, I’ve decided that while no more sophisticated than most other societies of their time, the Urdvayne, who worship the Stone, have a particularly advanced understanding of geology, mineralogy, and metallurgy. In other words, they know how to make good swords and they have the materials needed to make them. So, the Oathkeeper still exists, just in a different form. This, of course, also means the Royal Oathkeeper, the Oathbreaker, and all other variations of the design must also change. But I’ll get more into that when they come up in the story. Anyways, that’s all for now, so keep your eyes peeled for new updates.

Remember awhile back when I made a post with terms and definitions? Well, this is part 2! Also I edited a term from the original post.

Classifying Koelth, Pt. 2

Sealer – Any creature, human or otherwise, who has been born with a natural resistance to magic. Whereas abominations suffer from an excess of magical influence, sealers lack the sorts of residual and vestigial magic that even normal humans have. Like abominations, sealers can vary greatly in their ability to affect magic. Due to the passive nature of most sealers’ abilities, they rarely learn of these powers. Universally used term.

Asperser – A paragon who turns renegade during the process of receiving their guardian’s blessing. This is the rarest form of magical blessing by far, and all records indicate that the only way this can happen is if one guardian intervenes in the ritual of another, one of the greatest taboos among the guardians. The intervening guardian presents an idea to the would-be paragon that they cannot resist, leading them to completely reject the blessing of their original guardian. As a result, the asperser receives two blessed artifacts: his original paragon artifact and a separate renegade artifact. Unlike a normal renegade, whose renegade weapon is simply a twisted version of their paragon weapon, the asperser’s paragon weapon retains its original power, and their renegade weapon has its own distinct power. Primarily Trialian term. Ex: Cecil

Grand Sealer – A sealer whose abilities allow them to combat paragon level magic. At this level of power, sealers are not simply resisting magic, but actively manipulating it. When fighting against a non-magical opponent, nothing is gained. When fighting against a powerful mage, however, what would be a weakness for others becomes a strength for the sealer. Primarily Trialian term.

 

S-Rank Hybrid Classifications

Note: It is not uncommon to have hybrids of previously mentioned classifications. However, they rarely receive any special recognition. When they reach S-Rank, however, it then becomes noteworthy. In the below cases, all aspects must be S-Rank. We are dealing with characters whose nature is no weaker than Grand Sealer, Slayer, Paragon, Iconoclast, World Eater or Archfiend. A slayer who is also blessed is only a paladin if they have paragon magic, for example. These classifications are rare enough (except maybe the paladin) that you will never see more than two or three introduced into a single story (probably). You will see two of them, for sure, in the River’s Tale, but you’ll get no more spoilers.

Paladin – A slayer blessed with paragon level magic. Many paragons, renegades and exemplar learn how to fight against other magic users due to their frequent encounters with them, but without their own magic, they find themselves lacking. The paladin has trained himself to take on mages even if he is deprived of his own magic. Societally, their respective roles as paragons or renegades remain unchanged, but when they are put to the test, their skills in physical combat give them an edge. Primarily Trialian term.

Archangel – An archfiend blessed with paragon level magic. For all their merits, paragons, renegades and exemplars are limited by a lack of diversity in magical ability. They have only the magic which they are blessed with. Much the same could be said of archfiends. Their abilities are vastly broadened if they have two magical talents instead of one. Thus, archangels have a keen edge in battle. Most archangels, rare as they are, are exemplars, as the guardians’ sense of balance typically precludes archfiends from being paragons proper, and, as a result, they are rarely renegades. Primarily Trialian term.

Soul Bender – A grand sealer blessed with paragon level magic. Grand sealers are dangerous on their own, but gifted with paragon level magic they become a force to be reckoned with. Capable of manipulating the magic of others and commanding powerful spells of their own, it is not hard to see how legends arose claiming that soul benders could affect souls themselves. Most soul benders, rare as they are, are exemplars, as the guardians’ sense of balance typically precludes grand sealers from being paragons proper, and, as a result, they are rarely renegades. Primarily Trialian term.

Demi-Soul – An iconoclast blessed with paragon level magic. Demi-souls have twice the magical power of paragons, but are no more susceptible to magical burnout than a regular paragon. Normally, demi-souls are created unintentionally, as some forms of apostate magic can be shielded from the guardians. Naturally, if the guardian cannot tell that an individual is magical, they would have no trouble further blessing them. Often reluctant to be chained to a master, there is a disproportionately high number of demi-soul exemplars who go renegade. Primarily Trialian term.

Resonator – A world eater tether blessed with paragon level magic. Unlike other such combinations, resonators typically become paragons before becoming world eaters. Earthbound guardians are not beholden to the same laws and customs as the ascendant guardians, and as such care little whether or not a human is already blessed. Depending on the circumstances, such a bonding can force a paragon to go renegade. However, several outside factors play into this. Primarily Trialian term.

Dual Soul – A paragon blessed by two guardians. If one person represents the values of two guardians equally, he may find find himself blessed by both. Once a rare but real thing, it is now one of the greatest taboos among the guardians. Primarily Trialian term.

Fiend Hunter – An archfiend with slayer training. Oftentimes an archfiend finds itself the target of paragons, exemplars, slayers and even other abominations. Thus, when facing mages and those trained to fight mages, it is useful to have non-magical skills with which you can defeat them. Primarily Trialian term.

Soul Breaker – A grand sealer with slayer training. Grand sealers are dangerous on their own, but trained in the arts of slaying they become a force to be reckoned with. Being virtually immune to magic, they are the ultimate anti-mage weapon. Even an asperser would do well to steer clear of a soul breaker. Primarily Trialian term.

Dark Paladin – An iconoclast with slayer training. Many iconoclasts learn how to fight against other magic users due to their frequent encounters with them, but without their own magic, they find themselves lacking. The dark paladin has trained himself to take on mages even if he is deprived of his own magic. Primarily Trialian term.

World Stalker – A world eater tether with slayer training. Often world eater tethers will learn slayer arts to be able to defend themselves against the various magical foes they face and, on rare occasions, their own familiar. Between the familiar’s power and the tether’s skill, the world stalkers are nearly unstoppable when they set their minds to a task. Primarily Trialian term.

Fallen Angel – An iconoclast born as an archfiend. It is hard to determine whether a fallen angel’s powers come more from their iconoclastic magic or from their archfiend magic, as both emerge at a young age. However, they channel each variety of magic through different methods. Because of their natural magic affinity, archfiends make for very dangerous iconoclasts. Due to the methods by which most apostates are made, both aspects of a fallen angel’s magic work well together. Primarily Trialian term.

Fiend Eater – A world eater tether born as an archfiend. It is hard to say what might give rise to such a pairing, but it is undoubtedly a formidable one. The tether and the familiar play off of one another’s magic so well that it would be foolish to cross them without being prepared. Primarily Trialian term.

Soul Cleanser – An iconoclast born as a grand sealer. Few examples of this combination are known. The effects of forcing magic through the body of a sealer of any degree seem to be erratic and unpredictable. Sometimes it results in an artificial abomination, because the body cannot properly absorb the magic; other times it produces relatively normal humans, with the added magic simply filling the gap left by the victim’s anomalous nature. In rare cases, the victim’s nature and their magical weapon remain separate but intact, making for a powerful combination. In either the first or the last case, a grand sealer who achieves iconoclastic magic can be quite the potent anti-mage. Primarily Trialian term.

Soul Eater – A world eater tether born as a grand sealer. Though no harm is intended, this pairing can be dangerous for the familiar, as the sealer’s abilities will sometimes drain the familiar’s magic, causing harm. Why an earthbound guardian would endure such a punishment willingly is unclear, though some suspect that they are trapped by the sealer’s magic. Either way, this unlikely combination proves quite useful, with both parties being able to manipulate and shape magic skillfully. Primarily Trialian term.

Disruptor – A world eater blessed with iconoclast magic. Unlike other such combinations, disruptors almost exclusively become iconoclasts before becoming world eaters. Earthbound guardians, while far more in tune with magic than any human, sometimes struggle to detect iconoclast magic, and therefore would likely bond with one unintentionally. However, the knowledge of their tether’s magic would also have little bearing on the guardian’s decision to become a familiar. Primarily Trialian term.

The Elephant in the Room and Final Notes

No doubt you have noticed something missing from the above list. There is one combination I haven’t accounted for. Well, there is a simple reason for that: sealers and abominations, by their very nature, exclude each other from coexisting. Sealers lack normal levels of magic, and abominations possess greater than normal levels of magic. If you had a person who was born as a sealer and an abomination, what you would probably see as the result is a normal human. There is no exception to this rule thus far, and there likely never will be. As it is, the chances of encountering more than one of each type of hybrid character are extremely low. World eater and slayer combinations are by far the most likely. Slayers are the product of training which anyone could theoretically learn, while world eaters are the result of a magical entity taking a shine to a particular person. Iconoclast and grand sealer combinations are the least likely. Sealers are rare, with only a handful existing in a single generation in Trialias, and there might only be two or three grand sealers among them. Due to the taboo nature of apostate creation, the actual number of apostates in the world is believed to be low; however, occasionally, when a successful method is discovered, there is a spike in the number of known apostates. Iconoclasts are rarely immediately noticed; often the magic increases in power as the child cursed with it grows into maturity, much like an abomination. Somewhere in the middle you find paragon types and abominations. Abominations are not terribly uncommon, but archfiends are exceptionally rare. Since all three major Trialian nations have a negative view of abominations, there are several organizations that hunt them. Fiend hunters, therefore, are more common than archfiends without slayer training. There is a set number of paragons each generation due to the fact that each guardian may pick one and only one paragon, with rare exceptions. However, there is always a predictable but varying number of renegades and exemplars. When a paragon turns renegade, oftentimes a guardian with have an exemplar on hand to replace them. Due to the inevitable conflict between paragons and renegades, and even between paragons and rival paragons, many fighters on both sides learn slayer magic to counteract their foes’ magic, thus paladins are common.

Hey, folks. Content as advertised.

Showcase #17

Peaz

Peaz is the incarnation of the Progenitor’s inner serenity and harmony. A lover of the arts and a positive soul, where Joye rejoices in revelry, Peaz embraces poetry and philosophy. He is the solace that shelters humanity in times of turmoil. He hates war and conflict, and is pacifistic nearly to fault.

Religion:

Domain: Peace, Tranquility, Calm

Associated Pantheon: Koeleth Sentimentals

Religious Order: Temple of Tranquility

Native Magical Element: Wind

Symbolic Weapon: Stave

Symbolic Gem: Lemon Quartz

Symbolic Bird: Dove

Insignia: Peace Sign (Because why not?)

Appearance:

Body Shape: Small Frame, Straight

Eyes: Hazel

Hair Style: Unkempt, Long

Hair Color: Brown

Facial Hair: Hippie Beard, Brown

Skin Tone: White, Tan

Attire: Hemp Robes, Rose-Colored Glasses, Sandals, Tie-Dye Headband

Weapon: Simple Staff

Markings: None

Notable Features: Distinctive Scent

Background:

Titles: Lord of the Trance, Serene Mind, Spirit of the Pacifist

Siblings: Warrdu

Significant Subordinates: None

Relationships: He believes in free love, so the list is long.

Antithesis: Warrdu

Notable Events:

Pax: In the aftermath of the fall of Orgalav, there was much work to be done. Peaz and his paragon made significant strides in smoothing out tensions lingering between the remaining nations. Koeleth, and Trialias, might not be what they are without his intervention.

Paved with Good Intentions: The Wanderer, as the bearer of the powerful weapon Envoy, has a duty to responsibly use his powers. Before certain rules were established, a follower of Peaz obtained the weapon. In their attempts to do good, they managed to destroy a city and devastate the farmlands around it.

Sorry this is late. Nothing else to say here.

Showcase #16

Disciplina

Disciplina is the incarnation of the Progenitor’s lawful, orderly nature. Possibly the most emotional of all the guardians, Disciplina hides her thoughts and feelings behind a steel curtain of rigid self-mastery. In all situations, she keeps her head, analyzing every detail with a scrutinizing eye. Disciplina is the ideal of warriors and scholars all across Koeleth. Leader of the Koeleth Sentimals, she commands the respect of guardians the world over.

Religion:

Domain: Discipline, Order, Self-Restraint

Associated Pantheon: Koeleth Sentimentals, Formerly Orgalav Dominion

Religious Order: Temple of the Golden Pillar

Native Magical Element: Earth

Symbolic Weapon: Hand-and-a-Half

Symbolic Gem: Amethyst

Symbolic Bird: Osprey

Insignia: Corinthian Column

Appearance:

Body Type: Slight Spoon, Medium Frame

Eyes: Ruby

Hair Style: Ponytail, Long Straight

Hair Color: Burgundy

Skin Tone: White, Tanned

Attire: Light Plate Armor

Weapon: Hand-and-a-Half

Markings: None

Notable Features: None

Background:

Titles: Queen of Divine Order, Unerring Rule, Golden Standard

Siblings: None

Significant Subordinates: None

Relationships: Maybe, just maybe, Apathos, if he could get his act together.

Antithesis: None in particular

Notable Events:

The Conquest of Trialias: When Orgalav waged war on Trialias, Atoriti waged war on Trialias’ gods. Disciplina was one of his highest ranking subordinates, and she led the charge against the Nagyb. Her dominion allowed for the rise of the tragedies who now rule those lands.

Breaking the Rules: When the Ekoalem returned to drive out the Orgalavi, they shone a light on the cruelty of the empire. Realizing how dark the empire had become and what her role was in its fall, Disciplina was convinced to aid the Koeleth Sentimentals, eventually proving herself worthy of leading them.

Well, good news is I’m content with my chapter, so I’ll be sending it out for some final editing. I say “content” and not “happy” because “content” means I can release it with minimal regret and without lying about my opinion of it. Anyways, I may or may not get to the Pantheon today, because I wanted to do something different. It’s been awhile since I talked about some of my inspirations. I am influenced by many fantasy worlds, but many of them are video game fantasy worlds, with a few notable and famous exceptions. So, I’d like to introduce you to some legendary heroes of Eirmoda who are inspired by video games. The first you might know and might have already guessed about. Fair warning, tl;dr.

Tales of Distant Lands: A Gamer’s Inspiration

Continue reading Something A Bit Different