Masnark
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(RP) The Key to Midgard's Heart (RP)
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Walking towards Druim Ligen, deep in thought, Masnark passed near Ardee. From the direction of the river, he could hear the laughter of children. Spending most of his time in the front lines of the war and in the newly found lands of Atlantis, it was a sound he did not hear often. He had no idea how much he missed those sounds though. Finding it hard to breathe, he walked towards the sound.
Standing behind a tree, Masnark watched a few children running. To his surprise, among the three Firbolg and four Human children, there were two tiny Lurikeen girls and even one Elven lad. Years ago, that would never have happened. No Elf would have let his child run with the likes of Bolgs or Celts unless absolutely necessary. Smiling to himself, Masnark took some solace from the fact that things were changing. Like everything his kind did, the change was slow. But it was happening. And if they would be able to gap the internal strife inside Hibernia, surely they would be able to push back the hordes of Midgard and the conquering forces of Albion.
The children seemed to be playing a game with the mindless mud-men. Throwing rocks at them, which made them angry, then running away in all direction, laughing their little heart out. Even the Elven child was laughing. Masnark was watching for a long while until one of the little Luri girls saw him watching. She quickly turned her friends' attention to him. The children stopped playing, looking at him very seriously. These looks, so serious, were so out of place on their faces that Masnark couldn’t hold the smile that crept onto his face. The Luri who saw him first took two or three steps towards him, while looking back at her friends to give her courage, and with a heavy lisp said: "We jutht playing with the mud-men, Mathter Enchthanter. Don’t make Thoredine thtop playing!" What she said sounded like a demand more than a request. His smile became even broader. Thoredine must be the young elf, he thought to himself. Masnark looked the Luri over. She was so tiny. She reached the middle of his shin. He crouched down, his knees creaking, so his face would be closer to hers. "Why should I make Thoredine stop playing little one? You children seem to be having fun." The Luri's face became all red. "Thtop making fun of me you gnarled old Elf!" She shouted at him. "It'th not my fault me mouth ithn't working properly!" Too late Masnark saw his mistake, wanting to cover his blunder, he said "Ah! My apologies little lady. My ears are not working like they used to. I am very very old you see. I did not mean to make fun of you." This seemed to placate the little keen. She looked at him, seemingly not angry anymore. "How old are you, Mathter Enchthanter?" Masnark used his staff to stand back up. "I am almost as old as this land, little one. As old as the war." Her tiny little mouth turned into an "O". She motioned her friends to come closer, and they shyly advanced. "Tho you know many thtories?" she asked, looking hopeful. All the childrens faces turned to him expectantly. Masnark had to smile again. "Indeed I do, keen. What story do you want to hear?"
Biting her lower lip, and looking at her friends for support, she said "I want the thtory of why Nat… Nott… Nattmore Fathte ith called The Key to Midgard'th Heart."
((to be continued))
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Tremar
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I can't wait for more, Masnark. Very well writen, the description, the images... captivating...
Please actually finish this one, unlike the other story!
<gives Masnark a friendly hug>
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Devenshire
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Ok, I expected to laugh, which I did.
Masnark if you stop writing this I will harm you. Keep it up. I am intrigued.
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-Rarch-
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Intrigued indeed. Very nice, Mas. Can't wait to read the rest.
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MsMezz
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Great start! Keep writing this one!
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Masnark
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Looking at the sky, and looking towards the portal keep, Masnark decided the war can wait for him. Hibernia was full of great people. His old bones were not as needed as they once were. Smiling at the children, he motioned them towards Ardee. "Let us go sit in Ardee, where the damp will not make my poor bones ache. I will tell you of The Key to Midgard's Heart."
Walking to Ardee, ten children of all sizes around him, chattering and talking all together, the old Enchanter kept his strides small so that the little luries would be able to keep up. A few minutes later, they were all sitting inside the pub, the children's legs dangling from the chairs, barely reaching the floor. The barkeep even brought some books so that the keens would not be too low to watch over the table. As spiced honey drinks were brought in, and some bread with various confectionaries, Masnark gave a dramatic sigh to get the children's attention and with a slight wave of his hand, started telling the tale.
Three hundred years ago, the war was not going well for our side. We were out numbered, we were out-classed. Many said we were just out. But some kept fighting. Some of the oldest clans kept going out and trying to defend our land. Going to other lands, trying to retrieve what is ours. It was at that time when the Hordes of Midgard, tired of constantly defending their realm, fat with the spoils of war, were to be vanquished by a lesser force. A force that just wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was three hundred years ago, when a small band of Hibernians decided to go on their daily jaunt through the Midgardian frontier, to harass the Trolls. It was a small band that started it. A handful Retribution, a handful of Red Branch. I was lucky enough to join them that day. The Drood Zlara and the Keen Saorise were kind enough to accompany me on this adventure.
When he uttered the bolg and keen's names, Masnark was amused to see their little faces again turn into a perfect circle. The little keen who spoke before, spoke again. She seemed to be the mouth on that band of children. "You know Thlara and Thaorithe? Are they like all thothe thtorieth that are told about them? Wath Thlara really able to heal a dead man with one wave of her hand? Did Thaorithe really beat three Trollth thingle-handedly?"
"Shhh.. This is a story about the Key. Not about them children. Hush now and listen."
Edit: Oops.. Forgot to Lithp.. /blush
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Tremar
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Adorable, Masnark...
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Qwyk
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<is still holding out for the story of Masnark's encounter with Lug>
<folds her arms and looks stubborn>
<secretly listens to the new story anyway>
--------------------------
Qwyllian Season 50 (and my parents were very open-minded, I grew up with a firbolg pup named Finderril!) elven ranger
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Devenshire
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Urgh... This reeks of cuteness... No one tell the Kitty!
<motions Masnark onward>
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kitty2day
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<arches a kitty brow at Deven>
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Masnark
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Hibernians were raiding Midgard constantly for well over 100 years when we went out that day. Nobody knew this time would be different. Some of the stronger folks who were with us were carrying large wooden pieced on their backs. Parts of rams. We were jogging towards Nottmoore, a central keep, one that we knew Midgard constantly used as a rallying point. The idea was to harass the trolls. We never for one second guessed what the months to come held in store for us.
We met no enemies on the run through Odin's gate. As we were nearing Jamtland, we passed the Glacier Giant. Taking a wide breath around him, we aimed towards our target – Nottmoore. Sending the shades who accompanied us, we hid behind the trees, not uttering a word, waiting for a report. As we were standing there, tense, we heard a rustle through the bushes, we all took positions behind trees and boulders, holding our breath. Into our line of sight three unlucky guards enter, joking, talking in their broken language, most probably, about some foul deed they did . As they approached the area where we were hiding, they suddenly froze, looking left and right. One of them caught a glint of metal and was about to shout. Just then the bard Doulor waved his hands and with his tantalizing voice usually saved for the wenches he so liked, entranced the guards. Now three guards were standing there, with stupid smiles on their faces, rocking back and fro, seeing what the bard did want them to.
As we were looking at them, deciding about a course of action, the Master Shade Jander appeared near us and motioned us to the keep, only to disappear again into the shadows from which he came. Those of us with spells and chants spoke last words of warding and to the hill on which Nottmoore rested we ran.
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Devenshire
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<blows a kiss to the Kitty>
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Viladin_Blackguard
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/claps for Masnark.
Excellent as always, old friend.
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Glenin
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<sits quietly and listens>
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-Rarch-
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Rohen entered the town of Ardee and went straight into the pub to get his ale. He had just come out of Darkness Falls where he had gone to bring back a guild mate and friend from the demons' clutches and was in need of much rest and good drink. He noticed the small children sitting at one of the tables with a grown Elf that looked very familiar. Rohen idly fondled his cloak, feeling the smooth fabric of Atlantis and the power from the Healer's Embrace artifact through his fingers as he watched through the corner of his eye. He saw the children gasp and interupt the Elf as a small Lurikeen girl with a lisp asked asked loudly about Zlara and Saorise. Grinning at the mention of his good friend and mentor, Zlara, Rohen picked up his ale and moved to a table right next to theirs. He now knew the Elf to be Masnark. He pulled up the hood to his cloak to remain unnoticed and listened intently to the story as it unfolded, glad he had made it in time to hear the whole thing.
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Alatheia
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more now please 
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Nesie
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Wonderful so far Masnark <grabs a mead and sits quietly>
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Attikus_Albion
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/bump because people complain about no "quality threads" - and here's one!!
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Zlara
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I'm feeling the love. More, please.
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-Rarch-
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Zlara I had a cool story for you about how uber I am, but now it's been forever and I can hardly remember.  I'll try to make some stuff up if I see you though.
/bump
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Jakela
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<mutters something about that shade Jander>
More please!
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Svodanna
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More please. *takes her seat and waits*
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Viladin_Blackguard
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The young shar shoves Svodanna off her seat and onto her bum on the floor with a wicked little grin before resuming the seat Svodanna sat in.
"More, elf. Or I get stabby."
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Svodanna
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*tells Viladin's mommy on him*
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Viladin_Blackguard
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What is your fairy's hands doing, Svodanna?
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Attikus_Albion
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lol viladin :0
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Viladin_Blackguard
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Speaking of pies, Atti. Just had an apple cinnamon pie. Yummy.
But I still want to know what Svodanna's fairy's hands are doing.
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kitty2day
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Kitti lifts her head from where she is curled up in the corner, then lays it back down in her paws, listening to the story.
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Tremar
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<shrug> forget it. Farm on.
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Viladin_Blackguard
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<looks at Tremar>
<looks at Tremar's number of posts>
<looks at Tremar>
<looks back at Masnark>
"Your.. fans.. are waiting, Elf."
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Ghodae
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This is on page 2 why?
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Anela_Belladonna
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Very entertaining, Masnark. Please continue.
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Anela Belladonna - Resurrected Nightshade
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Mia_Julianna
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Very nice Massy, can't wait to hear more!
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so you might as well, have a good time.
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Masnark
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The guards stormed us. Luckily, we were prepared and the guards seemed to be neglected. The last supply caravan must have not passed here for ages. Some of their armors seemed torn, and some of them seemed hungered, their eyes deep in their sockets. They fought like wolves inflicted by the Demon Sickness, tearing with nails, teeth and feet when their swords broke. Two minutes into the fight, wordless shouts filled the air. On the walls of the keep, our shades were relentless. They moved like shadows from one guard to another, appearing before them and cutting them down before they were even able to do anything. Once the guards standing outside the keep were taken down, rams were built, starting to tear through the doors. The armies of Midgard failed to even upgrade the doors – the first door was going down quickly.
Suddenly, from the eastern side of the keep, a bellow rose. It was Shelter shouting. "Dolour! Messenger west!" Standing near the bard, I saw his head whipping west, his eyes focusing. I followed his stare. From the keep walls, a guard jumped to the ground, rolling on the gravel below as he hit it. He stood up immediately and looked at us. I drew power from the sun to blind him and hinder him, but alas, he was too far. Dolour already had his Lute in hand, his fingers playing lightly on it, like an arrow he started running towards the messenger. Panic filled the messengers eyes. Like from a dream, the guard opened his mouth and started singing! Such an awful song it was for my elven ears. I could understand not a word, but one name he kept saying over and over again. Bragi. He called to his broken god Bragi. Before the bard could get to him, the skald messenger darted away south from the keep. Towards Svasud or Hlidskialf. The bard Dolour gave chase, strumming furiously at his lute, playing his drum with hands too fast to follow. Seconds later they both disappeared in the forest south of the keep. More guards appeared, hurling spears at us, attacking us. But it was all for naught. Minutes later the bard was back, he looked at Shelter and shaked his head.
"Be ready for incoming! Put the guards down Shades. Chanters, Eldritches – be ready at the gate keeper. I want not one to go inside!" Shelter shouted.
We braced ourselves.
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Nony-Mouse
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Aorana had been working diligently at the forge, crafting yet another pair of gauntlets. It was useful and important work, but at times it could get rather dull, particularly when there were not many other crafters about. Suddenly, a cold wind, cold even for her Midgard, swept through town. There was a flash of light and the dwarven healer felt as though she'd been roughly pulled by her midsection.
After her sight recovered from the bright flash and she regained her sense of balance, Aorana looked around in wonder and confusion. She was in an oddly bright and green land, that smelled of mushrooms and growing things, not her native land of stone and snow. Her pulse quickened as she noticed she was in some type of building that was inhabited by elves, keens, and bolgs! Fortunately, she'd appeared at a table in a darkened corner, and the occupants of the building seemed to all be focused intently on a particular elf. Aorana quickly pulled her cloak about herself, hoping that they would not notice a small dwarf if she tried to remain unobtrusive.
As she tried to figure out what fell magic had brought her to Hibernia and how she might escape with her life, Aorana was shocked to discover that she could understand the tree-huggers! True, they did all speak with a lisp and sound like they'd indulged in a bit too much wine, but she could understand their speech if she concentrated. Clearly, whatever magic had brought her here was strong -- she'd never understood the language of her enemies when she'd met them on the field of battle.
After listening for awhile, Aorana learned that the elf who had so captured everyone's attention was telling a story of a past battle. She had to admit, he was a talented story teller, though she was confused -- she did not think an elf could be a bard. He was detailing an assault against one of the keeps in her own homeland, and she was curious to hear how it turned out. Perhaps she might even learn a thing or two about how these tree-huggers fought, which might prove useful if she ever made it home. So, deciding she'd need to wait until the tale finished and the crowd dispersed before attempting to sneak out, she sat back and listened.
<OOC: Nice story, Masnark! You've even got us dorfs listening!  >
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{old}Minimasnark
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continue!
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Alatheia
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*taps her foot*
we're waiting
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Darayavahush
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Eep, you're making me nostalgic Masnark. Awesome job so far
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Masnark
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The gate was almost down. The ram already ineffectual. Grunwave, pushing the ram away from the door all by himself motioned Shelter to the right side of the gate. He himself took the left side. The gargantuan bolgs, almost as high as the gate itself put their shoulder against the sides of the door and heaved. Once, twice. The doors fell down with much clutter. Again, the ram was moved and another one built to start taking down the secondary door. The guards inside the keep started to sound frantic. Some jumping off the side, trying to get away, only to be entranced by the bards and taken down by the Hibernian force. At this point many bodies were littering the ground, blood everywhere. Still, not one of us lost their life.
From behind me I heard a sound much like stone grating against stone. Turning, I saw Zlara, an arrow sticking from her shoulder, gritting her teeth, trying to get the arrow out. When the arrow was out, blood started spilling from her shoulder. Concentrating, she placed her hand on her ruined shoulder and mumbled something under her breath. As she took away her hand, the wound was simply gone, just blood on her torn armor to show that an arrow was once there. Her hand didn’t even drop to her side, and another arrow "thunked", tearing through her scale pants, hitting her thigh. Angry, I started looking at the walls, to see what fiend was targeting her. On the wall, a dwarf was standing, his great bow taut with another arrow. It was the Lord of Nottmoore, coming to help his soldiers. Saorise at my side flexed her fingers, blasting him with a burst of energy. Losing the grip on his bow, he dropped it, not expecting anyone to hit him on the walls. I went into a trance, drawing power from all around me, manipulating and focusing the rays of the sun, I started throwing more and more destructive energy at him. As I was doing that, one of the shades came and tried slicing the Lord's throat. As he uncovered himself from the shadows, his blade shot towards the Lord's throat. But he was not quick enough. The lord simply grabbed the hand holding the dagger, twisted it and slapped the shade so hard, he fell from the walls. Running towards him, Zlara held his head in her hands. His body was broken from the fall, his jaw unhinged in a grotesque manner from the Lords slap. Placing her thumb on his forehead, some eerie light spread from where she lightly touched him. In seconds, all his wounds and broken jaw were healed. He opened his eyes and smiled. In his hand, he was holding the Lords recurved bow. A thing of beauty. Lord Nottmoore, from the walls, seeing that his loved bow was gone gave out a shout of frustration and ran back up to his tower.
From the south, a shrill came. A keen shouting at the top of his or her lungs. "Incoming! Trolls incoming!" From the door came the shout "Casters, not one goes inside! Guardians, protect your casters! Rams stay on door. Show them the color of their own cold blood!" More took up that shout. "Show them the color of their own blood!".
The Midgardian detachment came from the south, sixteen or so strong. The songs of their Skalds carrying on the air, singing the might of their false god Bragi. As they started going up the hill, the two bards took position from both sides. Waving their hands in complex motions while singing a song so complex it sounded like it came from the throats of a dozen people rather than just two. From the sixteen that attacked, more than 8 suddenly stopped, some toppling to the ground from their own forward motion.
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RoanaTheRed
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Sitting in the corner of the pub, Bethoc watches the faces of the young ones as Masnark begins to speak. With a smile, she settles in to hear the old elf's tale, sipping her honey mead as her fingers absentmindedly stroke her well worn lute.
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MsMezz
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<waves her hands in a motion for Masnark to continue>
Wow! This is great so far!
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Tremar
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<nudge>
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Masnark
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At this point, Masnark's throat was raw from all the talking, ordering tea with extra honey (the celtic ale too rough for his old throat), he looked around. He seemed to have drawn quite a crowd. He blushed. He was no story teller. He usually saved that for the Bards. But he did like the interested glint in the childrens eyes. Drinking his tea, the children were talking between them in hushed voices. "I want to be Thaorise when I grow up!" the first keen who spoke to him said, her eyes sparkling. One of the Bolgs interjected "I want to be like Zlara! Did you hear how she…" Another one, overrode "Shelter!! I want to be Shelter with that big spear of his! To kill all them Trolls!" The Elf whispered something, it was obvious he was very shy. "What wath that, Thoredine?" the Luri asked. "I want to be like Jander." He said with that melodious voice elves have until they come of age.
Masnark sighed inwardly. Nobody wants to be a Chanter anymore he thought to himself. The time of magic seemed to be coming to an end. He sighed. One cannot stand in the way of progress, he knew that. When casters were completely useless he would fade into the forests of Hibernia, and maybe go beyond the veil. Forever. He sighed again. Recognizing his own bitterness and how useless it is to dwell on things out of his sphere of influence, he looked up from his cup of honeyed tea.
The children were looking at him. He coughed and went on with the story.
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Mia_Julianna
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<Claps> More more more!
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As soon as you're born you start dying...
so you might as well, have a good time.
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Glenin
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<sighs softly, listening as she sipped slowly on her drink>
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Alatheia
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keep going *nods*
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redheads > all !!
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Dx2x
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One of the few RP stories I've taken the time to read...very nice job.
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Barch
You give soj?
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Masnark
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"So where was I?" murmured the old Elf. "Ah yes. So from the hill a cry came. Incoming! Trolls incoming…" "You already told us that." one of the bolg children said. "Ah yes. Of course. Quite right. The battle! After our bards mesmerized half their force."
The Midgardians, seeing how half their force was entranced, decided to make a mad rush to the gate keeper, to enter the keep. As they were running, our guardians descended on them. From the corner of my eye I saw Grunwave running towards one of the dorf Healers trying frantically to heal his fellows. Straight into the dorf Grunwave ran, raising his shield. 15 feet the dorf flew, landing on his back-side. Stunned, the dorf just sat there, Grunwave was on him, sword slashing and stabbing. Suddenly, I saw a movement from where the ground starts angling down. Small hands waving, chants in broken language being spoken. "Hea…" I started shouting, but it was all for naught. A Healer, left unchecked, maybe free from our bards mesmerezation waved his stubby little hands. I was mesmerized. I will not go into what I was seeing when I was under the spell. I don’t take to Mesmerization well.
After a time that felt like an eternity but was probably less than a minute, my mind cleared. I saw the rest of the Midgardians rushing the gate keeper. All freed from their induced sleep. Four of them were headed right to me, trying to cut me down before they go inside the keep. I braced myself to the inevitable death. "Thump thump thump" I heard. Saorise was at my side. The trolls were yelling in frustration, trying to beat me down. Trying to bury their axes in me. And still I heard "thump thump thump." Saorise, her forehead glistening with perspiration, moving her little shield, like in a dance, from one troll to the other, like she could foresee where the next blow is coming from, she just let none of them hit me. Hazarding a look, her eyes looked at me questionably. As if saying "This is no time for deep thoughts Elf. This is time for action." I did not need more goading. Deep inside me, change was happening. Power coalescing into a hard ball just below my heart. The instant the power was too hard to hold inside, I let it go. From inside me, it grew, like a ball of invisible fire. It exit my body. This was the easy part. Any caster could make that happen. The problem was with Saorise and the rest of my compatriots. The trick to learn was how to make the blast shy away from them. How to make that mindless wave of energy curve around them and not touch them. With my mind, I ventured out. Feeling the minds of each of them. Saorise, Grunwave, Zlara. They were all around me. Linking with them, I convinced the energy that they were simply extensions of myself. As it was growing out of me, it warped around my friends, not touching a hair off their heads. The trolls.. Well.. The Trolls were not as fortunate. The invisible fire tore through them. They howled in pain. Again and again I summoned the small ball of energy that then expanded to wreak havoc on my attackers.
Then, a shooting pain descended from my right shoulder to the tip of my toe. My eyes flung open. I was not even aware I had them closed. A pained sneer spread on one of the Norseman's face who was trying to beat me. His axe embedded deep in my shoulder. My knees started to buckle. Black specks appeared at the edges of my vision. I could see two of his friends lying on the floor, dead from my invisible flames. I looked at him again, trying to summon that ball of energy again. Trying to burn him where he stood. But he was only sneering at me. Too late I saw that his left hand was also holding an axe. I could see the arc the axe was drawing in the air. As if everything around me came down to a crawl, the axe came down, towards the side of my torso. Saorise jumped, raising her shield, trying to deflect the axe, but she was a fraction of a second too late. The axe tore through my side, probably puncturing a lung, because the next thing I remember is me coughing up blood, streaming down my chin, soiling my robe. By now my knees were turned to water. I could not hold myself yet I was still standing. The norseman's axes where embedded so deep in me, he was holding me up by holding them.
My vision blurred. I was done for. The last thing I saw was Saorise bracing herself and slamming her shield at the sneering Norse.
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Alatheia
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*sniffs*
Masnark, you really do write well
*hugs*
thank you for the bedtime story
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redheads > all !!
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Anela_Belladonna
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<cries at the thought of her hero (yes, I know that you are an Enchanter), Masnark, being so badly injured and waits to hear the rest of the story>
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Anela Belladonna - Resurrected Nightshade
Clearly you are new here. If you ever read these boards and not see whining and crying, you should take shelter immediately as it is a sign of the apocalypse! - Drakin
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Attikus_Albion
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/bump back to the top
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Masnark
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Darkness fell. I was floating disembodied, moving fast through the darkness. Or so it seemed. I had no point of reference to notice movement. In the direction I was moving, the darkness cleared a bit. In the distance, I could see a naked binding stone. My soul longed to get there. Fleetingly I thought, what would happen if I deviated from the path. What if I turned away from the bind stone? Those thoughts were cut short. The darkness was suddenly filled with a sound. A sound like the shrieking of a tempest through mountains filled my ears. My movement towards the bind-stone slowed down. Listening to the wind, I could make out words. Shouts. Suddenly the blackness disappeared. The battle ground was visible again. From my left, a meaty hand was holding me. A shout in my ears. "You may die one day, Elfie. But today is not that day. Not with me by your side!!", then laughter. Turning my head, almost losing consciousness from the sudden movement, I saw Zlara there, my wounds gone, only the tears in my robe and blood on my undergarments a clue that I was not always whole. The mangled form of the Norse that buried his axes in me was at the floor, breathing his last breath, Saorise taking her dagger out of his throat.
From the corner of my eye I could see a Healer raising his hands. Too slowly I pulled power to myself to stop his casting. Too slow my hands waved the well-practiced movement. The Healer was at the end of his chant – but from the shadows, a body emerged. Two daggers flickered in the sun. Two daggers moved swiftly. Two daggers delved into the Healer's throat, looking for the artery that carried blood, leaving the last word of the chant unspoken. Turning around, dislodging the daggers from the Healer's throat, Llava buried them into the mid-section of the Dwarf, giving the killing blow. Smiling at me, Llava tried to meld back into the shadows, only to be jumped by two Trolls, both towering over him, angry about the death of their Healer. One of the Trolls drove himself into the brink of insanity. Foaming at the mouth, suddenly his body started to change.
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{old}maeana
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WOOOOOOOT!!!
..........more.....more...........
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Llava
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Yup. That's me in a fight.
Healer was just killed by Llava!
[Group] Llava:
Llava was just killed by 5 Berserkers!
[Group] Llava:
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Mia_Julianna
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/bumpity
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so you might as well, have a good time.
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Worfgar
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Well written elf, well written. Us sneery-eyed Norse do appreciate a false tale of from time to time <wink>.
Be warned elf, ye spread more lies across our brethern I'll be forced to remedy the situation. Don't derail the Norse's spirits lad. Yer words are confusing to the Troll but we Norse don't let yer words go unattended!
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Masnark
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With horror I saw the frenzy take the Troll. His teeth getting longer, his arms lengthening and hair growing all over his body. In a blink of an eye what little humanity the Troll possessed was erased, the metamorphosis to an animal complete – in body and spirit. Evading two blows, Llava jumped back from his aggressors, fumbling with his weapons, dropping one of his daggers. A smile still on his face, a third dagger appeared to replace the one he lost. Two more blows he evaded, cutting deep gashes in the fur of the Vendo. Then the second Troll was able to smash his lithe body with his hammer. Thrown against the wall, Llava had little he could do. Frantically dodging the axes and hammer, he had scant space to maneuver and with each blow that landed, his movement became more and more sluggish.
By now I was on my feet again but still in pain – my insides were still torn. A little figure, not higher than my knee darted from between my legs as speedy as a rat being chased by a fox. Sevarhin threw himself at the hulking Trolls, releasing his deadly energy. Zlara was still fixing me, her hands layed on me, her eyes closed. At Llava's shouts of frustration, her eyes flew open. They were red. From fatigue or from anger, I could not tell. Focusing her eyes, she gave a wordless shout. One hand flew from me and pointed at Llava, as if she was trying to reach him while still healing me. He was too far. Opening her palm, she beat the ground once, twice. Pressing her hand open-palmed to the ground, I could see blood streaming from it. The blood however, was not just dribbling randomly. As if by command, it snaked on the ground as fast you can blink! Then it touched Llava. Just so you know – all this happened in a few seconds. All in the confusion of battle. Only later, when I was browsing through my near-perfect memory was I able to see all these details. By this time, Llava was beaten to a pulp. He was sliding down the wall he was backed into leaving a trail of blood. Then that amazing thing happened. Zlara's blood clung to him covering him in a blink, turning blue then green. When it disappeared, Llava was whole again. "No Elfies die today! No Elfies!!" Zlara cried, her eyes rolling in her eye-sockets as she toppled to the ground. I was able to hold her arm that was on me just as she was falling and while I have no strength to actually hold one such as her from falling, I eased her fall at least.
The Vendo who did not expect Llava to actually be alive was at the brink of death. The metamorphisis and the little keen Sevarhin channeling destructive energy into him took their toll. The other Troll was almost dead too. By the time the thought that someone other than Llava was near him crept into his slow mind, the little keen did his damage. With a swift thrust of his daggers, Llava helped the two Trolls meet their maker.
At this point, I was chasing a Shaman who was trying to heal his friends while with his dirty magics causing putrid poisons to cling to us. I took him down and then saw too far from me, two kobolds appearing from the shadows, daggers drawn, aiming to strike at the helpless Zlara.
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Rhystan-nimue
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<clap> Good story! Keep it up
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Llava
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No! Not my druid!
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Zlara
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Very well done Mas. Keep it up.
Toki - Anytime.
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Masnark
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.
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Darayavahush
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/kerbump
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Glenin
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<keeping quiet in the corner, entranced by the story>
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-Rarch-
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Bump.
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Masnark
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"Saorise, Zlara!" I shouted, frantically trying to get close enough to help. Not fifteen feet from Zlara's body, Grunwave was fighting two warriors, them trying to beat on him, he fending them off with his shield, tearing them apart with his mighty sword. At my shout, his head whipped towards Zlara. Turning his back at the warriors, he charged the Shadowblades, running towards them with a wordless howl, the two warriors running after him, slashing and attacking his unprotected back, rending large tears in his armor. One of the kobbies looked up a second too late, Grunwave's shield slammed into him. Unable to stop his charge, Grunwave, shield and Kobby flew into the side of the door, slamming the kobbie again, this time on the wall. There was a loud, sick "crack" sound followed by half a dozen or so smaller ones. The kobold fell to the ground, from the way he was lying down, one could see his spine was broken in many many places. His collar bone would never be the same either.
The second Shadowblade, seeing his friend so mangled decided to make a run for it. He got two feet away from the Drood when his hands flew to his head, holding it, groaning. His legs seemed to stop cooperating with him. He tried running, but was impended. It was already lost for him. With a flurry of stabbings Saorise was on him, thrusting at his soft leather armor, shouting at him with her high-pitched voice, her shouts turning into a physical blow that damaged him from within. A few seconds later and he was lying dead at her feet.
Then, silence. We were looking around us, searching for the next target, the next threat. There was nothing. I got to Zlara and was trying ineffectually to help her to her feet. She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes opened. All around us were the mangled bodies of the Midgardian detachment. From inside the keep one last pained shout was heard, ending with a gurgle as blood filled the throat of the one who raised the shout. Thirty seconds later Llava emerged near Shelter, saluting, saying softly "Two got in. They saw the color of their own blood." At the word blood, he covered himself again, and disappeared towards the keep. The ram-runner was gawking at the bodies littering the ground. Shelter snapped at him. "Keep ramming the door. This keep is ours." Then he raised his voice. "Saorise, count your people." Saorise, who already had, shouted back: "All are here and breathing." Shelter was looking around, searching. "I cannot find Yurgi. Llava, look for the Bolg." Seconds later, Llava appeared on the walls of the keep, his face the color of ash. "He's at the back of the keep. It seems like two Shadowblades with a Treb were trying to get into the keep. They didn’t make it. He made sure of that. But their poison killed him at the end."
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Zlara
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Bolg down.
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runbabyrun
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Wow....that is all I can say is wow.
Veeman/Runbabyrun/vincnezi Hib/Tristan
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Llava
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Fear my uber scouting skills.
(What's funny is that it would actually happen like that... I would be behind the keep and finding Yurgi before he'd actually say something.)
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Masnark
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One of the little Lurikeen girls was sobbing silently. Masnark stopped his long winded descriptions of battle and was at a loss of what to do. Looking to the talkative Luri for help, "The's my thithter. The dothen't like it when people die. The taketh thethe thtorieth too theriouthly." Then she bit her lip. "Yurgi wathn't dead, wath he? He couldn’t be." Masnark smiled and ordered some more sweet-cakes for the children. "Let me tell you something. I was once sitting with Zlara in a pub, much like the one we are now in, little one. It was in one of those rare moments of peace we had. Zlara could drink just about anyone under the table, but when she was drunk, she would stop being her quiet self and could talk your ear off. It was one of these times when she confided in me. We were talking of death, of life, of birth. And her torrent of speech subsided. She looked thoughtful. Then she looked at me. 'You know, elf', she said to me. 'Death… Death is just a wound people take too seriously. And me, elf, I know how to heal all wounds.' Yurgi was not really dead little one. He was just taking the poison in his blood and the gashes in his flesh very seriously. Too seriously" Sniffling, the sobbing child slowly stopped crying. Masnark did not know if it was his reassurance that did that or the fact that the sweet-cakes just arrived at the table but it didn’t matter. The children's mouths stuffed with cakes, their little jaws working through them, he went on with the story.
At the end, the taking of the keep was relatively easy. The second door was already down. We charged inside, killing what few guards were inside and cautiously went upstairs. The coward Dwarven Lord of Nottmoore practically threw his sword at us, begging us not to kill us - so scared he was. We spared his life. We took his armor, we took his beard. We gave him a copper training sword and a coin of gold with the tree of Hibernia embedded in it. Silently we escorted him out of the keep and sent him away. Sent him to tell his Norse masters that a line was drawn. Sent him to tell his Norse master that the day of the Elves, the Lurikeen, the Bolgs and the Celts is upon them. Sent him to tell his Norse masters of their coming defeat.
Yurgi's body was carried into the courtyard while our carpenters were hard at work, fixing the doors and making them stronger. It was strange seeing one so strong as him so void of life. He was lain apart from the wounded, waiting for the Droods to come.
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{old}Katelia
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The tails of battles of past shall serve to teach the young of this day. *smiles* Even if it be one of the fall of me homeland.
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Alatheia
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*smiles waiting for more*
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Nesie
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page 2 shall never do.. back up it goes!
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Masnark
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The Droods and Wardens were walking between the few wounded we had, tending their wounds. Zlara was sitting on her knees at Yurgi's head, murmuring. "So much poison.. Ho humm… And this artery here.. Ho humm.." She gently turned his head this way and that. "Poison reached the thinking bucket. That can't be good.. Ho humm.." Standing up she walked around him, gently tapping his limbs with her foot. "So serious this bolg. Ho humm…" she sighed. "Silly bolg." She sat at his head again, playing with her lynx cub. Slowly cooing to her cub, an eerie light started spreading from it. Its eyes darted in its head. It looked scared. More she sang to it, placating it. More light came out of it, resting on Yurgi. The more light came, the more tired the cub looked. Then the cub closed its eyes. Breathing its last breath. Large tears danced in Zlara's eyes. She stroked the dead cub's fur. Standing up, still crying, carrying her cub, she walked away, outside of the keep. "What of the bolg, Zlara? Did you fail?" one of the Hibernians called out. Zlara stopped. Her hunched back turned to us. "Stand up Yurgi. Stop being so dramatic." She started walking towards the gate again.
A groan. Yurgi's chest moved. He sat up, looking left and right, his eyes unfocused. Then, his eyes suddenly focusing, he threw up. I averted my gaze. It was not a pretty sight. I ran to the walls and looked down, watching Zlara walking down the hill. "You are a silly elf." I looked down to where the voice came from. Saorise was standing there, her serious eyes looking up. "Why do you say that, keen?" I asked, smiling. "Standing on the keep walls like that, wearing nothing but that robe you insist on calling armor. The enemie's assassins will turn you into a cheese grater." She looked me up and down. "A whitish, gangly cheese grater." She lowered her gaze and looked through the battlements outside of the keep. I heard a rustle of soft shoes on the stone near me. Smiling, I expected to see Llava appearing. The keens ears were better than mine, what with being younger and all. She had her dagger out and was fumbling with her shield. From the shadows, a form appeared. A very pleasing form. Her dagger snaked towards my abdomen. I was too slow to react. Zlara was too far from me to help. The noise of dagger hitting flesh. I held my breath, bracing myself for the pain. It was not there. I heard Saorise groan, the blade stuck in her. The Shadowblade was out of the shadow that protected her. She looked at me. She was one of the two Midgardians I actually recognized. Leylie was standing there, her eyes a confusion of why the elf, me, is still standing. I did not waste one second, drawing the rays of the waning sun, I blinded her, stunning her in her place. I then proceeded to decimate her. Before she was aware of what was happening, she was lying on the walls of the keep, dead. Saorise staggered near me. Poison going through her blood. She hung to my robe. "Silly.. Elf.. How many.. Times do I have to… tell you.." I helped her down the stairs to the courtyard. I tried lifting her, but she gave me such a look, I was lucky to still be alive after it. At the courtyard one of the bards ran to us, singing a soft lullaby. Saorise's eyes drooped. From her wound, with the blood that was constantly dribbling out, a green substance also poured out. Once all the poison was out of her system, the wound closed itself.
Zlara buried her little cub outside the keep and came back, more quiet than she usually was. Yurgi was very weak, but was getting better with every hour that passed.
We rested. The keep was ours.
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Darayavahush
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A bump is definitely needed here.
Very nicely told, Masnark
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Nony-Mouse
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As the elf continued with his story, strange thoughts went through Aorana's brain. She was still hidden in the shadows of the Hibernian pub, listening to Masnark's account of a past battle. She was now less worried that the elves, keens, celts, and bolgs around her would discover the dwarf in their midst, so entranced were they by the story. And strangely, she began to feel sympathy for the tree-huggers, even as she heard how they were killing her countrymen. Although they had killed many dwarves, kobolds, trolls, and norsemen, the Hibernian invaders had suffered losses of their own.
Aorana recalled stories she heard during her childhood, passed down from the clan elders. The elders had said that in ancient times, the natives of Albion, Hibernia, and Midgard had lived in relative peace. The legendary King Arthur had managed to keep the peace, which had benefited members of all races. After his passing, long-standing disputes and mistrust among the races had re-emerged, leading at first to cessation of trade and eventually open warfare.
As she continued to ponder the events in Masnark's tale, Aorana could no longer ignore the suffering that war brought to members of all races. In the past, she had seen the elves and others as hated enemies, who must be killed before they killed her countrymen. But now, as she listened to their own stories, thanks to the amazing magic that allowed her to understand their tongue, Aorana's sympathy for these people grew.
She was still not sure what poswer brought her here and granted her the ability to understand the language of Hibernia, but she began to suspect that it was the work of her God Eir. Eir is the God of Healing and Peace in her homeland, and perhaps he had also grown tired of the constant battles and deaths. Perhaps Eir had brought her here, so that she would come to this realization: War brings suffering and death to all peoples and it was now time for Peace to return to the lands. If this truly was Eir's desire, that the 3 realms cease their constant battles and find a way to live in peace, Aorana knew she must find a way to do his will. She knew it would be a long struggle, but if her courage held, she would find a way.
Coming out of her thoughts, Aorana noticed that Masnark had taken a break to comfort a young keen who was upset about the death and bloodshed in his story. He was able to comfort the child, but this scene spurned a new insight for her. Perhaps the key to bringing about the return of peace to her world was with the children. Children of all races did not know hatred at first; it was only after their elders told them of the atrocities committed by their enemies that children learned hatred. With that in mind, Aorana made sure to watch the reactions of the young keens, elves, celts, and bolgs in the audience, as Masnark resumed his story.
< OOC: Perhaps I need to write my own RP story about Aorana's quest to re-unite the 3 realms. Oh yeah, and a hearty /bump for Masnark! >
< Edits for spelling and clarity >
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Used to play DAOC & WOW. Tried WAR and Aion, didn't stick with either. Maybe MMOs just aren't my thing anymore? ... Non-insiders can now have icons
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Qwyk
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Wow Masnark.
Just...wow.
--------------------------
Qwyllian Season 50 (and listening raptly) elven ranger
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Worfgar
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Har! Ol' Masnark tellin' his stories tained with the mark of the elves. Har! This old forsaken tree-hugger doesn't know what's comin' to him, Itell ya!!!
<OOC: Well written Massie, well written>
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As dawn rose, most of us woke up and started getting ready for our stay in the keep. Saorise was sent with Zlara, Amergen and myself to help the reinforcement that was on its way. At night, after the keep take, Doulor was sent to call for reinforcements. Rumor had it that we even had a Corpse-Summoner coming(not that anybody in their right mind would call them that to their faces).
As we reached the fork that leads to the Albion portal keep in Odin, we heard shouts and the clashing of swords. Running towards the sound, we came at the end of the short fight. A Briton, who must have been a Minstrel by the smashed drum lying at his side was killed by the band of nine Hibernians. A very confused horse was standing at the Britons feet, looking to it's left and right, as if trying to orient itself. Divon was standing there, and so were the rest of his Phoenix Guard – a newly formed clan then. With them was a solemn Elf, his hood covering his face completely. The odd thing about him was that he was wearing no shoes. That was the first time me or any of my companions ever saw a Corpse Summoner.
We made our way towards the keep. On the way, me and Divon opened some distance from the rest of them, and talked. "I was sure we were going to get more reinforcements. Midgard will retaliate and try to take back their keep." Divon nodded at me. "Our forces are demoralized. It was hard getting even these to come." I nodded my understanding and we went back to the group.
We reached the keep at noon. Smells of food was rising from it. I was famished. I only ate some stale bread in the morning, and the day before I ate nothing at all. We went inside and sat down to eat with the guards who started arriving.
As I was walking around the keep, I saw the Corpse Summoner drawing intricate forms on the ground, in the sand. He was chanting as he was drawing. I came near him and watched for a bit. Some of his chants and one of the drawings I recognized from my years as an Enchanter Novice. I came close to him and tried making conversation. I got almost no replies except for grunts that sounded like "Yes" and "No". At some point I asked him why he wasn’t setting up in the Lords room. It was much safer there, I offered, and the harsh Midgardian weather would not bother him so much. He looked at me, or at least I thought he looked at me – it was hard to tell with that hood darkening his face. "Listen, Enchanter, I am a Summoner of the Dead. I need to be connected to the ground so that I can feel my Brothers and Sisters fall in battle. I need to be connected to the ground so that I can channel their bodies to this place where I stand. Stop asking me questions and bothering me. I have much work to do!" Corpse summonners, I decided, were not very nice people.
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Alatheia
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this just keeps getting better and better
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-Rarch-
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Bump. Second page is bad.
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Masnark
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In the evening, the call was made to go attack Hlidskialf. We took our entire fighting force – 24 fighting women and men, divided into three units. A few healers and crafters were left in Nottmoore to help outfit the guards and take care of day to day business. We had Hlidskialf mostly down, only having trouble with the Lord who would not give up when suddenly the shouts of my brothers and sisters pierced the air. "Incoming!", "Brace yourselves!", the shout was taken. At the end it was not enough. Close to forty Midgardians swept over us, taking us down quickly and efficiently on the stairs in Hlidskialf. As I was about to die from two Kobolds working in tandem, blasting my psyche with their foul magic, I was swept away, something stronger than death calling to me. The last thing I saw was the sweaty face of the Summoner of the Dead chanting, singing and dancing, more and more bodies appearing at his feet as he channeled the fallen Hibernians to his little magical garden.
I lost consciousness.
I do not know how much time passed, but suddenly I was awaken from my slumber by the foulest of smells. Coughing I pushed myself back from the smell and looked around me. Tigarian was crouching near me, holding a smelling stone to my nose, the noxious smell was still strong even 2 feet from them. He smiled that reassuring smile of his. That smile that tells you that everything is good, or at least, that everything is going to be good. "What is that smell? I have never smelled salts so foul!" I cried, trying to hold my breath. "It is no ordinary smelling stone, it has been drenched in Troll sweat for forty-five days." The courtyard was full of Hibernians, some unconscious others groaning, still others suffering silently. The Droods and Wardens were walking around them, fixing broken bones, closing opened wounds. I could see Zlara walking around, "Ho humming" to herself as she laid her hand on that limb, touching that person. My eyes swept over the shadows. I stood up. Holding Tigarian's arm, I asked "What of the keen? Did she make it?" He chuckled. "She's on the walls, Enchanter. Leylie and her horde of Shadowblades have been trying to come over the walls for the past 12 hours. Saorise and some of the Shades are making sure they do not make it." Looking at the walls, I could see her little body walking the walls, seemingly chatting with herself.
At the third day after the defeat in Hlidskialf, the horn was blown. The Norse have arrived at Nottmoore. We had more reinforcement coming, but they were too late. The forces of Midgard were at the bottom of the hill. Shelter called out to the shades "Give me a count. How many are we facing?" five minutes later Jander appeared at his side. "Sixty Norse. Armed to the teeth. Order of Shadows leading." Jander looked around him at the twenty four Hibernians. He looked at Shelter again. "It's a good day to die." Shelter waved his hand at the Shade. "Pha. Every day is a good day to die. Today we do not die though." Raising his voice, he called.
"Shades and Mentalists to the walls! Casters and Healers in the courtyard. Nottmoore will NOT fall this day. Do not make me out to be a liar Hibernians!"
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Darayavahush
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/bump
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Zlara
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So it begins.
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MsMezz
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(Wow, keep writing good stuff like this and MAYBE people will forget that other classic of yours. <giggles and waits for Masnark to continue>)
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Mia_Julianna
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/bumpity
This is awesome Mas. It gives me chills. Write more!
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As soon as you're born you start dying...
so you might as well, have a good time.
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Masnark
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A horn sounded. Rows and rows of Midgardians assaulted the keep. Many fell at the first onslaught from our Mentalists, rangers and from the guards. But there were so many of them, those who fell were revived quickly and no less than three rams were quickly built, all of them manned by huge Trolls, bashing our doors. The Mentalists kept manipulating the ether around the Norse, causing disturbances that caused such headaches in some of them that they dropped everything they were doing and would just wither in pain. Rangers shot arrow after arrow at the Midgardian Healers and casters.
Not three minutes after the assault started, the walls were infested with Shadowblades, trying to cut down our rangers and mentalists. For the most part, our shades were able to prevent them from doing so by uncovering them. From the courtyard, us casters then let our spells fly, burning them where they stood. Some died on those walls, their insides burnt to a crisp. Others were able to jump out at the last second, to be tended by their Healers. Irnai was a fiend on the walls, slinking from battlement to battlement, she caused more and more of the attackers to suffer from headaches. Leire kept leaping from wall to wall, his arrows finding soft targets and holes in armors that were not fixed well. He was standing there, an arrow nocked, his bow taut. From the shadows, two Shadowblades appeared, ready to tear him down. Just then, the air crackled, there was a blue lightning, appearing above the walls at the back of an unsuspecting Irnai, the lightning took form, and held it. Like a crack in the air. Everything stood still. Then, the lightning parted, forming a hole in the air, behind the Keen Mentalist. As the hole grew, a shadowy form appeared from it. The Twisted Shadowblade Ugmug appeared, his black dagger ready to kill. Just as he was poised to strike, no less than five daggers and eight arrows struck him. Looking back at where Leire was standing, I could see Leylie and Burok, their hands still stretched from throwing the daggers. Leire's arrow, Llava's dagger, all were turned against the Twisted One. Overawed, I looked as the little Kobold stumbled back into his hole, clutching his chest with one hand, holding his throat with another.
The hole closed behind him. The Shadowblades on the walls spat towards him and disappeared back into the shadow. The battle resumed as if he never appeared.
At this point, the children's mouths were hanging opened. "Why did the Shadowblades try killing their own kin?" the Elf asked in a soft voice. Masnark smiled and answered. "That was no regular Shadowblade. He was taken by forces much darker than the Lords of Midgard. Forces so bleak, so evil, they make the Midgardian leaders look like toddlers playing with wooden swords. He was hated by his former comrades as much as he was hated in the green lands of Hibernia. Maybe even more"
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{old}Katelia
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/bump
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Fierenza
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- Fier
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Alatheia
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*grins*
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Lisen_AvSkyggen
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/claps
all of it is very compelling, more please!
<you should've been a bard, Mas>
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Llava
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Heh, fookin' Ugmug.
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kitty2day
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Kitti listened from the corner, drawn into the story.
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Worfgar
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/up with you!
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Mia_Julianna
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/Christmas bumpity
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As soon as you're born you start dying...
so you might as well, have a good time.
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Masnark
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((It's coming. Just no time to write))
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>.<
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Masnark
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The battle was raging. The first door was half down. Their Shadowblades were many. They forced our Shades, Mentalists and to the stairs. Outside the keep, unimpeded, the Midgardian forces started attacking the keep with renewed zeal. Shelter was standing at the courtyard, flexing his muscles, closing and opening his fists he was quiet.
Firbolg minds work slowly. But that doesn’t mean they are stupid. They just like thinking things out before they do them. Shelter was watching the battle unfold. He then started barking orders. "Casters, fall back to courtyard. Shades, keep stealthed on the walls, watch the enemy below and report movement. Healers, Courtyard. Guardians, form ranks, be ready to mount the wall. Nobody who goes on the walls will show himself to the enemy, keep low. When the signal is given, guardians to walls, draw their attention. You are going to get hurt, but don’t let them hit you too hard – the Healers will need all the energy they can muster."
"Eldritches, Chanters – when Doulour gives the call, you port out and you blast them – tall ones first, short ones last. You get hit, you come back inside." I swallowed hard. I went to stand behind Divon, three fidgeting keens standing behind us. The call was made. The guardians charged the walls of the keeps – the first wave getting immediately mesmerized from below. Divon looked at Doulour. We all were. He was dancing on the walls, trying to get a vantage point. From the other side of the walls, Amergen called out "Now!!" Both raised their voices in song, waving their hands. Looking down towards us again, Doulour nodded at Divon. Breathing deeply, looking to Lavi for reassurance, Divon rushed out of the keep, from the gate. I was right at his heels, hearing the taps of little keen feet behind me. The Gate Keeper ported us just outside the keep. I was shocked at the amount of Norse we saw there. I saw Divon casting when I was preparing my blast. Some of the norse were very quick though – not two seconds passed and some were already trying to attack Divon. Two raised their axes at me. I was able to get two blasts off – Divon was able to get three before we were both mauled by these axes. But we were just a diversion. The keens… They just wreaked havoc on the Midgardians force. Divon was hit, his wounds closing as soon as they were being opened. He didn’t waste any time and ported back into the keep. I could feel axes biting into me, but as soon as I was hit, the wounds closed themselves, forcing the axes out.
As I ported back in, I heard Shelter calling for everyone to go out sweep what Norse were left.
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(RP) The Key to Midgard's Heart (RP)
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Lol, and here I always thought Cyth and I made up that little trick. Used to do that defending all the time. I'd port out as a big Firb BM, bust TW and start pounding on someone. Everyone would target me and Cyth would come out right after, a little Keen Chanter hiding inside of me. Dropped tons of Albs like that.
Now that this has fallen to the third page you don't think you have to finish it, do you Mas? Wrong! 
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Mia_Julianna
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(RP) The Key to Midgard's Heart (RP)
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Get to writin Elf.
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As soon as you're born you start dying...
so you might as well, have a good time.
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Llava
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Woot, 100th post!
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Mia_Julianna
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(RP) The Key to Midgard's Heart (RP)
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w00t, 101st post! 
/bump
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so you might as well, have a good time.
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Masnark
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As we came over the hill, we saw that we did not put down as many Midgardians as we had hoped. Many were still below the hill. We started fighting them, us on the hill, them below. Slowly, and with the patience of a hunting Lynx, they pushed us towards the keep, raising more and more of their fallen comrades. We hurt them badly, but our people were hurt too. We were forced to go inside the keep once more, the victory that seemed so close, suddenly seeming far.
Resting in the courtyard, we could hear the sound of the ram hitting the doors. At some point, the call was given to retreat to the Lord room. Most of us were healed and ready for the bloody battle that was to follow. A yell was heard from the walls, Llava's high-pitched voice shrilling in the setting sun. "The doors are down! Incoming Trolls! Incoming Trolls!" Taking the advice of Saorise, we set our force at the second floor, trying to surprise the Norse. I could hear the Lord pacing to and from in his room, steeling himself for the battle to come. Then, the loud footsteps of the Midgardian horde could be heard coming up the stairs. The surprise worked. They ran straight to our trap. Not expecting to see anyone on the second floor, but to see everyone in the Lord room, the Midgardians rushed past us. We started blasting them. Some went up to the lord room, not noticing us in their mad rush. Others were dead to our casters and guardians. Their force was divided. Some of their warriors were up with the Lord, tasting the bitter bite of his sword. Some were dead on the second floor. Most of their support was alone at the bottom, trying to make sense of the anguished calls from their comrades. Some brave souls tried coming up in a trickle only to get mowed down by us. Shelter led the Guardians below to take down what support they had. We stayed at the second floor, waiting for the warriors to come down. When the shouts from below grew strong, and it was obvious that their Healers were at a bad spot, the Trolls from above started a mad rush below, to help. The Hibernian Lord called out to us, telling us to expect them.
At the end, the toll for the Midgardians was horrific. Almost all of their force was dead. What prisoners we took, we set free after taking their weapons and honor. We lost two of our force. They were set aside for resurrection while the rest were healed, bruises fixed, gashes closed, broken limbs set. Shelter was shouting for our carpenters to fix the broken doors, for us to keep our vigil until the doors were closed. The "Saorise Defense", as it came to be known worked perfectly. While not a surprise today, it became a widly used, very successful defense in the Northern keeps.
When all was said and done, I was standing near Shelter, in the courtyard, hearing him murmuring to himself. "I am no liar."
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Alatheia
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*smiles*
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redheads > all !!
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Tallison
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We missed you tonight Masnark.
Hurry back, great story
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Grimwulfe
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Well written Mas!
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Renshai "The Legendary" Foolkiller ~ Skald Herra ~ (retired&sold)
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-Rarch-
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Very nice.
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Glenin
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<smiles> Wonderful!
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Masnark
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The fighting raged for weeks. Us taking keeps, Midgard bringing more and more out to crush us and us hanging by a thread. Sometimes we would have two, three, maybe even four of the keeps in our control, only for them to be taken back by the Norse. These were the bloodiest battles you have ever seen. I have never seen my Comrades more tired or more resolute to succeed.
The Corpse Summoner that resided in Nottmoore collapsed one day. The Drood that came to check on him was dumbfounded. He could not understand what was wrong. When none of the Druid Grove magic had any effect, the big white-haired Firbolg took a very small knife and made an incision in the Summoner's arm. From the opened artery sand poured out – white sand – the type you find on the sea-shore. All of us who were witness to it were standing there, our mouths opened. Nobody has ever seen that illness before. From all his channeling, the earth took hold of him. He was gone. He was more than dead. The earth has claimed him for herself. We gave him a burial outside Nottmoore. A day later Brigit sent four Summoners of the Dead came to reside in Nottmoore. They shared the labor, hoping that it would be enough for them not to suffer the same ending. The war must go on.
The battles raged on. One day, Leire was found by our scouts, lying almost lifeless not ten minutes from Nottmoore. The brave Ranger was revived in the keep. When his eyes opened, he looked frantically around him. I was standing near him, his head cradled in Zlara's caring arms. He tried saying something, but all that came out was a croak. I put my flask at his lips, allowing some water to slosh into his mouth. "Bring me to Shelter." He whispered. Yurgi bent towards Leire and picked him up as if he was a rag doll. He climbed the stairs to the Lord's room, where Shelter was conferring with Lunahopper about our next steps. When we entered, Shelter was pacing back and forward, agitated. Lunahopper was standing on the table, near the maps, his hands clasped. They seemed to be having an argument. Yurgi placed the Elf on one of the chairs and Leire whispered.
"I saw them coming. I was patrolling at Svasud Faste, at Shelter's command. And then I saw them. They started coming out of the keep, and they just kept coming out, a never ending procession. I counted one hundred and twenty and still more there were more. Almost each and every one of them was holding Treb's parts and Ram parts. I got away to a safe spot and then ran all the way here. I out-ran them, but they can't be more than two days out. I am afraid Midgard wants to puke us out of it's frontier. I am afraid this time they will succeed."
Yurgi helped Leire down to the Barracks so that he can rest. Zlara said that it would take him at least four days to get his strength back. What he didn’t say was that he ran all the way from Svasud Faste to Dun Nottmoore without stopping. An eighteen hour run for a ranger in a hurry. I stayed upstairs, doing my best to meld with the shadows as to not interrupt the decisions that must come. Shelter and Luna looked at each other for a very long time. "The Brits. It's our only hope." Shelter said. Luna was pacing back and forth on the table. "I would rather die first." He said to the hulking Bolg. Shelter looked at him and with a soft voice he said, "You will, if they are not at our side." Again they were standing there, looking at each other. The keen as big as Shelter's stretched palm. Luna lowered his gaze. "So be it. Let us hope we do not regret it later."
"Who shall we send?" asked Luna. Shelter looked thoughtful. "Tigarian." I whispered. "Tigarian speaks their language. He knows their customs. He can go." They both looked at me. "You hate that Celt so much you are sending him to his death, Elf?" Shelter asked me. "I have nothing but love for him." I replied. "But if anyone can do it, he's the one. They hate him enough to know that if he's coming to them, the need is dire." Again Luna and Shelter exchanged looks. Luna nodded. Shelter went to the balcony at the Lord's room and called down below "Tigarian is needed at the Lord's room. Call Tigarian."
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Llava
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"Llava's high-pitched voice shrilling in the setting sun."
/slap
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Masnark
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A few minutes passed with Shelter and Luna discussing who to send with Tigarian, when the Warden appeared at the doorstep. He saluted, and stood there, waiting to hear what was needed of him. "Tigarian, I need you to take Loon with you and go to the Albion Portal Keep to ask the Brits for help. I will give you the signed papers that will allow you to talk in the name of Brigit. We are also willing to give the Brits back their relic if they help. I trust you can do this job?" Tigarian was taken aback. He looked at Shelter and Luna and took a deep breath. "Yes. If that's what's needed, I can do that. Just.. Just tell Loon to have his good shoes on. I am not sure if they will let me live or even speak before they kill me." Shelter went to where Tigarian was standing and put his huge hand on his shoulder. "I know, my friend. But the armies of Midgard have united to take us down. A horde of Trolls is coming this way as we speak. They outnumber us five to one. Four to one if the reinforcement I am expecting will actually arrive. We need that help." Tigarian smiled. "I was not bulking at this mission Shelter. I just think it is better to lose one than it is to lose two. When do we go?" Shelter nodded. "You leave three hours ago. As it is, I have no idea how you are going to make it."
I descended the stairs with Tigarian, both of us not saying much. At the bottom, Tigarian turned to me and said "You gave my name Elf." It was in the form of a statement rather than a question. I lowered my head and said that I did indeed do that. He smiled. "It's warming to know you have so much trust in me." The Celt then actually put his arms around me and hugged me. What an alien feeling it was. Running to where Loon was sitting, tuning his lute, Tigarian whispered in his ears. Loon stood up and took his backpack. Then, playing his lute, they both ran out of the keep and went west towards Odin's gate.
I went to the walls to watch them go, Saorise was standing near me. She looked south and east, towards Svasud. "A storm is coming, Elf." She said.
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MsMezz
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No worries, Loon will get em there in time.
<mumbles under her breath> Hurry, Pied Piper. Run, Loon!!
(/bump)
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Glenin
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<waits>
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Llava
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Dude.
Come on.
Let's go.
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Llava
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wtf
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Qwyk
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<is dying of suspence, even though she got turned into a panther 4 times today and is feeling pretty pleased>
---------------------
Qwyllian Season 50 (and tapping her foot impatiently) elven ranger
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CelephaisBlue
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Isn't he still on vacation?
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Alatheia
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he'll be home sometime tomorrow, that is all I know, and he'd best write as soon as he gets in the door too
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redheads > all !!
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Glenin
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<waits>
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Worfgar
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More writes elf, more writes.
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Worfgar
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Up with you.
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Attikus_Albion
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/bump for the soon to be departed Masnark
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Masnark
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((Just came back from Israel. I will complete this in the following week I hope. Sorry for the long wait))
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Kaladrian
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Page 9? No.
Write please. Thank you.
Edit: Still learning how to count.
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Golana
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Page 9? Hmm…
You might want to consider doing this:
Options -> change your display settings
Max topics preference – change to 50
Max messages preference – change to 50
Press update.
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Masnark
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Night fell. Throughout the day, more Hibernians trickled into the keep. When the sun finally started climbing up the sky, coloring the horizon and the clouds ominous red, we had no more than fifty Hibernians with us. At least a third were not even Masters of their professions, their studies not yet finished. We worked in silence for most of the day. Making the doors stronger, going over defense strategies, fixing the armor and weapons. We were able to scavenge enough material for two Trebs – we placed one near the Lord room and the second at the bottom of the Lord tower. We had a small amount of ammunition for them. The sun fell to the west, signaling the end of the day. And still no sign of the Midgardians.
As the moon rose, we were all standing on the walls of the keep, not one of us daring to break the silence. Watching south and east towards Svasud, we stood there, some holding hands with each other. Zlara and Gethin were standing very close to each other, their shoulders touching. Shelter was standing on one of the rampants, holding Lunahopper on his left shoulder. I was standing behind one of the rampants, Saorise standing on it so that we were about the same height. My hand kept creeping to her shoulder, somehow wanting to draw courage from her, but afraid of her reaction, I always took my hand back to my side.
Then we heard it. At first it was like the distant roar of a waterfall. But the sound grew louder. Then, we could feel it in our bones, as if they were shaking inside us. Then we saw the lights. Dozens of torches, like a mad swarm of fireflies in a long line. The sound grew and we could feel the hundreds of boots thumping the ground, hear the songs of the skalds. They were getting nearer to the keep.
I cannot describe the feeling when we saw the awesome army that Midgard has summoned to vanquish us. Our hearts sank. As they neared the keep, the norse started fanning out. They formed as a crescent in front of the keep, stepping in place, making that noise that shook our bones inside our bodies. Then, when they were positioned just right, a Dorf raised his arm. They all stopped stepping and silence took over. I focused my eyes and looked at the Dorf. It was Kawn, his one visible eye shining at night. To his left, I could see Leylie standing. She bent over and playing with his beared, she whispered something in his ear. He smiled and nodded without uttering a word. She planted a kiss on his cheek, and straightened up. Looking at the Shadowblades all around her, she nodded at them. They all disappeared.
During all of this, none of us uttered a word. It seemed like all of us were holding our breath. There were no less than a hundred and fifty Midgardians there. At the very least three times our number. From my right, I could hear a bass voice. It sounded like a Firbolg lamenting a loved one. As the sound grew, I realized I was wrong. It was Shelter. He was laughing. In all the years I have known that bolg I have yet to hear him laugh once. All the Hibernians were looking at him, all secretly fearing that that great warrior has finally lost his mind. As his laughter subsided, he swept a look at us. “Look what you have done Hibernians! You have made the Mids wake up from their slumber. You have made them afraid! Look at their eyes. They are scared! Of us!†We were all silent. The old bolg has finally lost it, some of us thought, I am sure.
“Off the walls!†He bellowed, all serious again. â€Shadowblades coming! Be ready for attack.â€
From below, I could see the Master Skald Kawn lift his stubby arm again. When it went down, the horde of Mids attacked the keep. The sound of their angry shouts alone seemingly enough to blow the walls down.
They didn’t seem so scared to me.
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Alatheia
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I still like it
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Llava
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Time seemed to freeze.
Then it started again in fast motion.
Then it froze again.
Then it started once more, and the battle began.
Then froze for a third time.
Shelter bellowed, "fookin lag!"
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-Braylon-
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Bravo! Really beautifully written. Made me smile before I start my day.
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Masnark
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They swarmed over the hill. The fore-runners haven’t even came up to the keep as shouts started erupting from the walls of the keep, where some of us still stood. We ran to the court yard, ready to hold the doors. We could hear the rams being built. I shot a look at Zlara. She nodded at me. I took a deep breath and tried blasting the Midgardians at the doors. I should have known better. Not half a second after positioning myself near the door, I was bombarded by massive amounts of magics. Not only that, but parts of the doors were already giving and one of the norse was trying to poke me with his spear. All that time, Zlara was standing there, waving her hands, fixing what was getting torn. Quickly I stumbled back – I stumbled, shocked from what my body went through. Saorise caught my hand and helped me stabilize myself. “First door going down!†I shouted. From the time the Norse came to the top of the hill to the time the first door was about to fall, not thirty seconds passed.
Closing the inner door with the help of Grunwave, Shelter called out to the Hibernians “The inner door will not hold against this. Set up in the tower! We are doing a Saorise Defense again. But be ready – when I say the word – be ready to fall back to the lord room!†As the bolt on the inner door clunked into place, we could hear the outer door splinter into a hundred pieces. Jander appeared near Shelter, smiling. “What did you see, Shade?†Shelter asked him. Still smiling, he answered. “Three rams on the outer, two rams will be on the inner – no space for more. But that’s not your problem today Shelter. They placed a dozen Trebs outside.†Shelter’s face went white. He slowly turned to look at us, assembled at the courtyard. He looked at Jander. “Twelve Trebs? You counted them?†Jander looked at him and grinned again. “I may not be one of them casters. But I can still count, bolg.†The grin never touched his eyes.
We all ran to the second floor of the tower, waiting for our inevitable deaths.
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StradhV
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Well written, great way to relive past rvr history.
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Tallison
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more more!
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Zlara
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I want more. 
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__Kat__
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/cheers & waits for more
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Glenin
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<sits waiting patiently for now>
Wonderful
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Masnark
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Suddenly there was a sound like twelve huge bows releasing arrows at the same time. Four seconds later, a deafening noise of the rocks smashing into the walls. One of the walls near where we were hiding smashed through, raining bricks and mortar on us. I could hear Llava shouting “Trolls coming up the tow…â€, his shout stopped short, probably by an axe.
We were lucky. The norse acted stupidly. They were over confident with their numbers and just rushed in instead of trying to wear us down with their Trebs. One second we were standing in the room near the stairs, our clothes filled with the rubble of the broken wall. The next I see trolls poring in through the door. I knew I had to destroy them. From the corner of my eye I could see Divon and Sevarhin closing their eyes, going into a concentration trance. I did the same. I could feel what was going on around me, but I was so deep within me, nothing could stop my casting – axes flew at tore through me, some blocked by Saorise, many others landing on me. Divon, the keen Sevarhin and me were standing back to back, creating a field of destruction so intense, the norse were actually being flung down the stairs and through the ugly tears in the walls. Not twenty seconds after the miserable attack, we were standing breathless, heaps of bodies around us, not willing to believe we were alive. Some of us were down. Divon’s face was a mess, his eye gauged out. The instant he came out of his trance, he fell down to the ground. Lavi rushed to him and cooing to him, she slowly fixed his ruined face. From the tears in my clothes, I could only imagine what damage my body took only to be mended by Zlara.
Saorise moved from me and looked through the cracks in the walls. “They are regrouping, reviving the fallen. We don’t have much time.†Shelter nodded at her, yelling “If you can stand, form on me. We will try to finish what they started. Guardians with me, we will take the brunt of the fight. Then the finger twirlers will come and finish it.†Slowly but steadily we went down the stairs, Shelter halting us twice to finish off some of the unlucky Shadowblades who tried hiding there. We got to the bottom and Shelter called the attack. A second after we rushed, we were mesmerized by the vast amount of Healers that were standing in the courtyard. As my vision was fogging, I saw a Troll raise his hands to the sky, from them, a lightning snaked down and connected with his outstretched arm. I remember thinking that he was done for. But then I saw that the lighting was doing his bidding. From his hand, the lighting shot out and hit us. It jumped from one Hibernian to another, burning each and every one. I saw the lightning coming towards me, the Mesmerization spell about to take me over. As I was hit, the hair on my head rose – but the Mesmerization spell got lifted. I saw what a death trap this was. Before I could shout that we should fall back, Shelter was already backing away, pushing us, his back to us, covering our retreat. On the way up, I saw Zlara bending into one of the alcoves, lifting a lifeless body. She was holding Llava in her arms, his broken body hemorrhaging from many cuts and bruises.
As we were deploying in the room again, the bombardment started again. A grapeshot got in through the already broken walls and into the room, bathing us with some vile chemical that tried burning through us. As the Droods and Bards were working to clear it, one more fell through the walls, this one a ball of fire that exploded on impact. Heraach, Shelter, Grunwave and Areinh were thrown to the ground, their clothes on fire.
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Mia_Julianna
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Ilu irl Massy. /bump
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so you might as well, have a good time.
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Glenin
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WOW ! So good
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Zlara
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/claps
Hercules!
Hercules!
/claps
More Please~!
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Yurbolg
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I kinda wondered where my Dain Bramage came from.
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Llava
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wtf >.<
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gave_daoc
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Shouldn't there be more to this story?
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Llava
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^^^
Yes.
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__Kat__
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<sits patiently and awaits more>
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Masnark
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We were doing badly. From the courtyard and outside the keep, the small room we were in kept being bombarded by trebs and by Runemasters. Our healers were besides themselves, they could not keep up. Furthermore, they were becoming exhausted. I could see Karath pulling Areinh to a niche in the room and hovering his hands above her body. She coughed blood, and stood up, her eyes in a haze. She looked left and right and he helped her to her legs. She stumbled to go help a keen who’s leg was broken. Grunwave picked himself from the rubble, an ugly gash on his forehead and his sword arm dangling, useless at his side. Zlara was still sitting on her knees near Llava, trying to fix him, mumbling complex words, singing softly. Doulour and Amergen pulled Shelter to relative safety and tried using what healing they had to fix him.
Through all this, the bombardment continued. Not only that, but the norse kept sending their horrible Shadowblades to harass us even more. Herrach and me took position behind one of the walls, and on signals from Jander and Leire, we would blast anything around us. Very few Shadowblades got in, though we didn’t kill any of them. I could see Shelter sitting, his back to one of the keep inner walls, talking to Doulour and Amergen. They both nodded gravely at what he was saying. When he was done, they both helped him to his feet. I could see how hurt it was. It was amazing that he was still able to breathe, let alone stand up. He raised his voice with a shout. “We are going to descend slowly to the courtyard. When you hear Doul or Amer raise a shout, we all charge the Midgardian horde.†We all nodded. I looked around us. I had no idea what charge he was trying to lead with this rag-tag of wounded, exhausted individuals, but I kept my voice down. As we were getting ready to go, as if from no where, Saorise was at my side again. I drew courage from her, and got ready to die. Again.
We all followed Shelter down the stairs slowly. I noticed Doulor and Amergen were not among us. I started to get really really worried. We were pretty close to the turn that would land us in the courtyard when we suddenly heard Amergen shout “Charge!†followed not 1 second by Doulor shouting “Get them!â€. We ran. I know not where we got the strength to, but we ran. The courtyard looked like a picture of a battle-field. Mayhem and chaos with no movement. I finally understood what happened. The entire courtyard was mesmerized. On the floor, near the tower itself, I could see Doulor and Amergen, both lying on the floor. Amergen’s left leg was broken in a sickening angle and it looked like Doulor suffered a similar fate. They jumped from the tower and mesmerized all the Norse!! We charged blindly. Divon, Heraach, Sevharin and me creating a field of destruction where nothing would survive. Around us, the Hibernians fanned out. We killed without thinking. If we saw movement, we moved in to kill, pressed by the fact that the mesmerization would not hold for long. We had half the courtyard disabled or dead, when the spell started to break. The ones coming out of the mesmerization were still dazed and we felt like we had a good chance of finishing them off.
Just then, in a scary unison, four balls of fire fell from the sky, hitting the clump we were in. A lot of us caught fire. The damn Norse were training their Trebs on us, with little to no regard to their fellow Midgardians! I could see one more ball of fire in the air, drawing its path in the sky. I could see it falling, falling. And I knew that it was going to hit me. Everything went dark.
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PiaoSB
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:o
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Eyva
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How in the world did I miss this gem?
Amazing story Masnark!
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Glenin
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It's seems impossible but it gets better.
WOW !
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Worfgar
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snark well said!
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Zlara
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i'm still hooked...
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Masnark
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I woke up. It took me a few seconds to realize we were all huddled in the Lord Room. I could hear the shouts from below. I tried talking, but my throat was so dry, I could not utter a word. Instead, what came out was a wimper. Roac came to me and put a jar of water at my lips. I drank a gulp and spilled about half all over myself. I was barely able to get up. I could hear the shouts of the Midgardian horde coming from below. They sounded so close to the Lord room already. It was only a matter of time before they washed over us. We were beaten. Most of us were exhausted to the point of unconsciousness. I took my position at the top of the stairs, but I could not concentrate long enough to cast a spell anymore than I could move the keep with my bare hands.
It was then that we heard the trumpets. It was like a dream. We have been fighting for over twenty four hours now, and the last thing we expected to hear was the war call of the Albion army’s trumpeters. We looked at each other then, trying to make heads and tails of what was going on. Hazarding a look from the tower, Saorise called out “The Brits! The Norse! The Brits are attacking the Norse! They are inside the keep!! Tigarian is at their head!†Everyone was stunned. Lunahopper’s gaze passed over all of us. He sighed, lowering his head. Slowly he raised his head again “This is our last chance, Hibernians. This will be the last charge. Give it all you have. No more backing away. We fight to the last drop of blood. To the last drop of honor!!â€
And so we charged again.
The frantic Norse did not know what to make of what hit them. They were so sure of their victory, the waves of Brits, Highlanders, Saracens and Avalonians completely broke through the soft lines of their back lines. Some of the fighters stayed up top, too dense to realize the danger they were in, too bloodlust to understand that without their support they will be butchered. We took them out one by one with little effort. The look of surprise and defeat on their faces was complete. Killing and fighting, we descended slowly to the bottom of the keep. Our fighters moving to the back when they were too hurt and new ones replacing them. When we got to the bottom, we left a long trail of bodies behind us. But there were so many Norse; they were slowly overpowering the three dozen Brits who came to our aide. As the second charge was called, I could see the Sorcerer Schmindrik, his hair done in what must be considered good taste in the strange lands of Albion, wave his hands in a complex motion. I looked at the Midgardians, all stopping dead in their tracks. Every last one of them. We charged into them, slowly pushing them outside the keep, trying not to hurt our temporary allies. Towards the end of the battle, one could read the resignation on the faces of the ugly Midgardians. Some of them so depressed, they just sat on the ground, waiting to be taken or killed. As the last of the Midgardians was tied or killed if still fighting, the Albionites drew back to the bottom of the keep. We were standing there, watching their wounded soldiers, leaning on each other. Racius, in his shining armor walked up to Shelter, his Briton form seemingly miniscule near the gargantuan Bolg. Everybody was tense. Holding his fist to his heart and then a finger to his head, he said something which I could not decipher. Shelter looked at Tigarian. “He says their end of the bargain has been met. He says he expects you to fulfill your part as well.†Shelter eyed Tigarian carefully. “What is my part again, Celt?†Tigarian lowered his face and looked at the ground. “You have agreed to hand them the Horn of Valhalla, Shelter.†The large Firbolg nodded. Lunahopper turned and walked back into the keep without saying a word, Racius’ calculating eyes following him. Shelter turned to Racius and nodded once. “Tell him the deal will be honored, Celt.â€
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Llava
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Wait... is that the right relic?
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silvertorch
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Need more Mas, this is great!
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Selej-Nimue
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/nudge
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Selej Starfire - Silverhand Celtic Champion <Devr'im>(Retired) Korres - Tiarna Celtic Ranger(Retired) Azhrei - Lion Knight Briton Inf -Lone Enforcer- "I touch small boys" - Afrodemon http://youtube.com/watch?v=b3IX4y7d5_s
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Masnark
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Outside, the moon has made it’s appearance in the sky. The sun still visible as a red ball of flame in the horizon. Masnark was surprised that his litany has taken so long. He started out wanting to tell a simple tale, but as he was talking, the memories overwhelmed him and demanded to be heard. Friends of the past have shown their faces to him again. He was reminded why he was so tied to his friends in the present. More than Masnark told the story, the story told itself. It took on a life of its own. The children, surprisingly, were still attentive, though the tavern seemed to have emptied somewhat. Masnark smiled at the eager faces and ordered them all dinner. As he was eating, he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, to let the children talk to each other. To see how they were taking his tale. At some point, their discussion turned towards the part the Brits took in the fighting. There was a heated argument between two of the Bolgs and the young Elf. The Bolgs were saying that the Hibernian forces did not need the help of the snobbish Brits. The Elf was contending that without that help the Hibernian’s would have tasted bitter defeat. Masnark did not interject. At some point, there was a lull in the conversation, and the little keen looked at the old Enchanter and asked him "What do you think Mathter Enthanter? Did we need the Britth to win that day?"
Masnark looked at them and took a pull at his tea, buying time to try and put it as gently as he could. "You see children, our existence is very fragile. In our histories we can see times when our peoples had temporary truces with the residents of Camelot. If you look back enough into the past, when I was still young and agile, you will see that there was even a time when our kind did not raise their swords against the Trolls of Jordheim.." at the gasp that came from some of the children, Masnark smiled. "How quickly we forget." he mused to himself. "And if we do not forget, we make sure our children never know." He continued talking to them. "Yes, there was a time, at the beginning of it all when the forces of Albion were so strong, that the Celts and Norse felt the need to stop fighting each other and fight the Armies of Albion. But after each such happening, we always went back to fighting, the inherent greed, distrust and hatred that is between us always winning. As for your question, little one. Well. The answer is that we will never know if we would have survived. It is my belief though that without the help of the Brits, we would have died that day and that Nottmoore would have fallen. We were outnumbered five to one and the Norse had a magnificent amount of siege engines at their disposal while all we had were two." One of the Bolgs seemed like he disagreed, he murmured under his breath: "My dad said we don’t need no stinking Brits." But otherwise he bit his tongue.
"What I do know for sure, children, is this. The thing that happened in the Relic Keep at Grallarhorn was a mistake. A mistake that we should not have done. The Sad Night at Grallarhorn is aptly named. We were too confident in our alliance with Albion. And we paid for it. We paid for it dearly"
Masnark continued his story.
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absb
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very nicely done mas!!! keep it coming i want to read more. Seems like you got a pretty nice gift in the art of writing.
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Zlara
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he's also a gifted navigator
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MsMezz
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Wow. <sits quietly waiting for more of the tale>
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Glenin
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<gets even more comfortable and sips an ale>
edit: tired bad day and can't spell
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-Anund-
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Amazing story Very very well written!
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-Anund-
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/bumps it back to the top
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__Kat__
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Being a youngun... I can't wait to see what happened at the keep...
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Masnark
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We were looking at the backs of the retreating Albs, walking south. Slowly we all went back into the keep. Shelter got on the walls of the keep and addressed the rag-tag force before him. "I am not a Bolg of many words, Hibernians. But I will tell you this. Today we proudly raised our heads and looked Death straight in the face. And Death… This day Death lowered his eyes." He passed his gaze over all the Hibernians in the courtyard and raised his hand to the skies. "Hibernia!" We all took the call. "Hibernia! Hibernia!" As the excitement cooled down, people started taking care of the more pressing matters. We had countless wounded, doors needed to be fixed, the walls were at a sad state. I saw Tigarian standing at the side, nobody getting near him, but nobody really ignoring him. Walking up to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder in a gesture that the Celts use to show sympathy. "Did I do the right thing, Masnark?" he asked me in a low voice, not meeting my eyes. "You did the only thing you could, Warden." I answered.
The following week was one of healing. We all rested as fresh troops were brought to the lands of Midgard. With them they brought food, wood, Trebs and rams. Everything we would need. Our numbers have bolstered, but in the giant keeps of Svasud and Vindsaul there was calm and quiet. Our spies reported minor movement there. In the few occasions I was in the tower, I could hear Luna and Shelter making plans, breaking them, and remaking them. Trying to figure out what the Norse were planning. Also, on the walls of Nottmoore, we had a relative respite from the Shadowblades. Only a few appeared, and even those seldom and far between.
It was at the seventh day , after most of the work of restoring the keep’s walls and doors was done, that we were notified that we were going to push and take more land from the Norse. The first keep to be taken, we were told, was Bledmeer Faste, the keep would be needed to get a regular support train to our forces that did not rely on the whims of Glasny. We formed up and headed West. We took the keep with no resistance. It seemed like the guards either ran away or went to guard another keep. We took the keep quickly and posted some guards.
The following three days were a haze. Keep after keep fell to us, except for Arvakr Faste which was taken by the Albion army. At the evening of the third day, we came up to Grallarhorn. The Army of Albion was there, to the side. We could see Norse running on the walls, fixing their Trebs, making ready for the attack. There were only a few of them. Luna came up to Shelter, at the head of the force, and impatiently motioned him to bend down. I was close enough to hear them arguing about the Brit force. Rhattar did not want them with us. Shelter said he had no choice and that his word was given to give them the horn. Luna tried convincing him not to allow them to fight at our side, but Shelter did not listen. I agreed with the little keen. Using the Albs was one thing. Fighting side by side with them quite another. After a few minutes of argument, the decision fell, and it was Shelter’s. We attacked the keep.
This is where The Sad Night of Gallarhorn occurred. We attacked. But because of the large number of Albs, we could not utilize our usual tactics. Us Hibernians, who rely on our casters to devastate our opponents could not use that strength! The casters could not link their minds with the thoughts of the alien Saracens, Highlanders and Britons. Some success was made with the Avalonians, but it was meaningless. We could not use our spells without hurting the Brits. This caused much havoc. We started seeing a lot of wounded and unconscious ones, the guards of the keep fighting like savages against us. It has been a mistake.
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Selej-Nimue
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/bumps
I kept going LD in that fight too
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Selej Starfire - Silverhand Celtic Champion <Devr'im>(Retired) Korres - Tiarna Celtic Ranger(Retired) Azhrei - Lion Knight Briton Inf -Lone Enforcer- "I touch small boys" - Afrodemon http://youtube.com/watch?v=b3IX4y7d5_s
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-Anund-
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And that makes that fight special... how Selej?
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Selej-Nimue
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<thinks> It brings back memories of me constantly LD'ing?
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Selej Starfire - Silverhand Celtic Champion <Devr'im>(Retired) Korres - Tiarna Celtic Ranger(Retired) Azhrei - Lion Knight Briton Inf -Lone Enforcer- "I touch small boys" - Afrodemon http://youtube.com/watch?v=b3IX4y7d5_s
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Eyva
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/nudge
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__Kat__
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/bumpity bump
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Glenin
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<sits impatiently>
I was excited there for a moment
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Masnark
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((Working on it. Sorry for the delay))
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Glenin
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Only teasing <hugs>
Much rather wait until you are happy with it
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Selej-Nimue
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/nudge
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Selej Starfire - Silverhand Celtic Champion <Devr'im>(Retired) Korres - Tiarna Celtic Ranger(Retired) Azhrei - Lion Knight Briton Inf -Lone Enforcer- "I touch small boys" - Afrodemon http://youtube.com/watch?v=b3IX4y7d5_s
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Saorise-Nimue
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I haven't been visiting enough, I guess. I'd missed this. Nicely written Mas!
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Llava
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"((Working on it. Sorry for the delay)) "
1.5 months later.....
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Llava
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<cough>
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With a start, Aorana quickly awoke. Looking around, she was amazed to find herself in that same Hibernian Pub that she'd appeared in several months ago. She could recall her sudden appearance and her amazement at being able to understand the language of the enemy. Fortunately, none of the natives had yet noticed her, hidden as she was at a table in a shady corner <dorf healer stealth 4tehwin!>.
Several things were puzzling to Aorana however. First, she must have been napping for over a month, as had the elves, keen, & bolgs, judging by how much her hair and fingernails had grown. Furthermore, most of them were still staring at the elf Masnark, who had been telling them a tale of events long passed. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes unfocused as he pondered the Hibernian siege of Midgard. She was amazed that his audience was still entranced by his tale, waiting for him to continue, even though he had been silent for many weeks. A small keen with a somewhat high-pitched voice <hehe!> finally spoke up, trying to bring him out of his thoughts, so that he would continue his tale. Llava was his name, if Aorana's memory was correct.
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.Dotty.
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<stands up and walks to the counter for a drink, bumping into Masnark> Oops!
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Llava
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Llava is an elf >.<
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Nony-Mouse
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Erm, sorry. You hibs all look the same to me.
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Glenin
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Tease!!!
I thought there was more !
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Baroness_Winterborne
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/nudge
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Zlara
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mas, leave your hacked tivo alone and write more
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Masnark
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((Apologies for the huge delay. This is the last installment of the story))
Masnark lifted his eyes and looked at the children at the table, doing their best not to fidget. "I must have fallen asleep. These sad stories tend to deflate me. I will try to finish my story now."
It was a dark hour. Many of us were down. The Midgardians who had a tenth of the numbers than us and the Brits had were actually winning. As more Hibernians fell, I could hear Lunahopper shout to our troops to fall back. There was much confusion with the bard Dolour egging us on and the little keen pushing us back. At the end, Shelter noticed our sad state and started helping the keen to push us back. As we retreated to the safety of the woods behind Gallarhorn, we were astonished and crest-fallen about what this too-close alliance with the Albionites has caused. Several were murmuring their annoyance. The Droods and Wardens were busy going around, patching broken arms, laying hands on wounded fighters and trying to do all that as fast as possible. At the side, Shelter, Lunahopper and Doulor were locked in a feverish argument or rather, Dolour and Shelter were, Lunahopper was standing near them, not saying a word.. We could hear not a thing, but we were pretty sure we knew what it was about. Nobody dared come between them. At the end, the Bard raised his hands in exasperation and stalked to the side. Shelter came, limping to stand before us and waited for the murmurs to hush up. "This is our time, Hibernians. This farce of fighting alongside the Albs will not reoccur. We will come up the hill again, but this time, come back down with the Cauldron of Dagda. In one hour we move again. Do not stray to far from this camp." As he finished talking, Zlara approached him and placed her large hands on his neck. His back arched a little, and his leg gave way, Zlara caught him before he fell and held him up, armor and all for a few seconds until he gained back control over his leg. As she let go, he stood there, trying to put weight on his now-healed leg. Seeing that it was as good as new, he smiled at the bolg and bowed his head slightly. Zlara gave him back a nod and went to the next wounded warrior without a word.
I was sitting on a frozen log, maintaining a ball of flame in my hand to give us some warmth. Saorise was sitting near me, even quieter than usual. I tried goading her to talk to me but to no avail. After a while I gave up, and just rested, trying to gain my strength back. "That was immensely stupid of us, Elf." Saorise said quietly. I looked at her, letting her talk. "I am very proud of all the Hibernians. Even the Celts and Bolgs seem to have been doing well. But to throw it all away with such stupidity... It makes my heart boil. It makes me want to stab somebody." I shuffled and moved away from her, in way of a jest, pretending I was afraid she was going to stab me. She did not laugh. She did not even smile. She just sat there, stone and dagger in hand, slowly sharpening her already deadly dagger.
At long last, the command was given. Our scouts reported that the Brits have withdrawn and are nowhere near the keep. We all got up and started walking towards the keep again. It was amazing how far easier everything was now that we did not have those pesky Albs to stand in our way. The guards fell like flies around us. Rams were built at the first door and three stout wardens started ramming. What little Midgardian defense was risen, we put down quite easily now that there was no interruption. Bodies of Kobolds and Dwarves fell from the wall, victims of our Nightshades and Rangers. As I was standing there with Saorise and Zlara near me, I suddenly heard a shout. From my right, I saw blood spilling from the throat of the bard Trefal, his body falling to the ground, my eyes then caught the outline of a Shadowblade, running away towards the back of the keep. I told my Underhill to run after him while I tried to stun him in his place. My spell hit him in full force, but dissipated, doing nothing at all to him. I started running after him, only the torn throat of Trefal visible in my mind. I could hear Saorise shouting from behind me to stop, but I paid her no heed. I ran, trying to reach that foul Norse. The Shadowblade ran all the way to the back side of the keep. As I turned the corner, I saw him and my underhill locked in combat. As I was drawing power to decimate the fiend, I heard Saorise shout from behind me "Careful, El…" It was entirely too late. My own bloodlust will cost me much. As I turned, I saw no less than three more Shadowblades appearing around me. I was able to use what power I have drawn into myself to blast them all once, but it was hardly enough. They stuck their blades in me once each and stepped back. The poison alone brought me to my knees where I also, for my great shame, lost what food I had in my stomach as well as control over my pet who just fell like a doll whose strings were cut. I fell to the ground, hardly able to breathe, only to see them all, including the one who lured me so effectively to their trap laughing at me, still wounded from my last blast. I was fighting for breath, feeling my end nearing.
I then saw them all stiffen up and from the corner of my eye, saw that Saorise arrived to where my body was lying. My heart sank just as their hopes were brightened when I saw that Saorise came with no support, following me, a foolish Elf, to her death. I could not forgive myself for doing that to her, I remember that. I remember telling myself I shall never leave her side ever again if by some miracle she would be willing to fight alongside me again. Slowly, like the slimy creatures they are, the four Shadowblades started circling the little keen. Two Kobolds and two Norsemen. Around her they circled, trying to instill fear in her heart. But she was just standing there, looking at them as they circled her, her dagger in her right hand and a shield on her left arm. She was standing there, somehow looking down her nose at all of them. Somehow looking more confident than the four of them. One of the Kobolds, in a childish act, spat at her. The spit hit her on the left side of her neck. She turned her face towards him and for a second everything froze. But only for a second. From my pathetic positon on the floor, unable to do anything, I saw Soarise, as fast as a swooping eagle ram herself into the Kobold’s Abdomen. Instead of a shout, blood came out of his mouth, spilling onto his chin. With two more stabs of her dagger, aimed squarly at his throat, the Shadowblade died where he stood, learning that indeed, hell hath no fury like a keen scorned. Before his body even hit the ground, she turned towards the remaining three and lunged towards one of the lightly wounded Norse. Expecting the attack, he evaded her and turned sideways. Using his momentum, he stabbed at the connecting points between her sleeve-armor and her torso armor, tearing at her arm. Seeming not to notice the attack, Saorise used her momentum to crash into another one of the Norse, stunning him and landing on top of his sprawled body. The third Shadowblade, the Kobold lunged at her, his axes moving like the wings of an angry bee, only to be blocked each and every time. The still-standing Norse also started attacking her. Saorise was able to stun him too and started attacking him with her dagger, all the while dancing around him, trying to make sure the Kobold is unable to reach her unprotected back. By this time, the dazed Norseman whom she stunned, came to his senses and started attacking her as well. It was too much for her – they were dancing around her, inflicting more and more damage on her small form. Saorise was sweating from concentration and it seemed that blood covered her from head to toe. Two of the remaining three Shadowblades were mortally wounded too though, their attacks becoming slower and slower. As I was watching Saorise’s life slowly leaving her, from the side of the keep, I could hear footsteps coming towards us at a dead run. They sounded like the running footsteps of a Cave Bear. A very angry Cave Bear. Out of nowhere, at top speed, Zlara appeared, her face contorted in a snarl such as I have never seen before. Running into the fight, she smashed one of the Norsemen’s face with her head, pushing his nose deep into his skull, her pig-tails flailing around. Not losing a moment, she bent down to Saorise, and seemed to slap her back. As she touched her, Saorise’s drooping eyelids shot open. Ignoring the pain of the heal, Saorise immediately blocked an axe that was aimed at Zlara’s bent back.
At the end, five Shadowblades were lying to the feet of Soarise and Zlara, a fifth one made a grave miscalculation and joined the fight, only to die without landing one blow on either the Champion or the Drood. As Zlara kneeled near me, picking up my body, I tried to tell her and Saorise how magnificent I thought they both were. How honored I am to be considered their friend but all that came out was this intelligible string of nonsense and embarrassing amounts of saliva.
As we neared the front of the keep, we heard the Horn sound. We have gotten through to the Relic. After all these years, the Cauldron of Dagda was once again in Hibernian hands. All I could do was try mastering what control I had left over my facial features to smile. Zlara placed me with my back on the wall, starting to chant those chants that would fix me up for the thousandth time. That is how I will always remember that heroic Relic Battle. Us getting our relic back and me sitting with my back to the wall, having my chin wiped by a huge bolg while she was singing at me, making the poison go away.
The children looked at Masnark as he was finishing his story, trying to stifle their giggles.
And that was that basically. After the group responsible for placing the relic back at Dagda did their job, we took the remaining two relics, giving one to the Albs as a token of our appreciation. The Midgardian offered very little in way of defense. I cannot say I blame them. They were sieged for months on end. These fights can take their toll. Taking the Strength Relics was merely a formality. As we broke down the second door, the keep lord and all of his guards simply surrendered, giving us the key to the third door. We took the remaining relics and placed them in Lamfhota.
It was a long and bloody war, but we won that part of it. We knew the time will come when we are complacent and fat from spoils of war and so somebody will come and take those relics from us. But we did not care. All of us were part of something so much bigger than our own selves, that it made us all realize just how much Hibernia and it’s people meant to us. It made us realize what being Hibernian really means.
Ever since those fights, us Hibernians have been calling Nottmoore Faste "The Key to Midgard’s Heart" because as long as we were able to hold onto it, throughout history, we were able to crush the Midgardian Horde.
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Crispian_Pontiff
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/le bump
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Crispian Pontiff, Seneschal, St. Crispin's League Council member, Omnia Patricius, General, Defenders Http://www.warlordcentral.com - Omnia Patricius's home site http://Writing.Com/authors/crispian My writing site
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Zlara
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~fear my headbutting skills~
/applaud
great story mas
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Glenin
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<smiles softly>
A Wonderful Story!
<sits in anticipation of another> <grins>
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Masnark
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Some points about the RP story..
It is a story based on "true" events. I changed a lot of things. Some things to take note of:
* Dolour (played by Hod, I think) led a large portion of the siege. My story deliberately put him as a side-leader simply because he was never an active roll in on-going leadership in the realm. Shelter, Ronfar, Lunahopper and a few others had active rolls in leading as well.
* The time it took us from taking Nott for the first time and placing the last relic in our Relic keep was about 5 days. 5 days in which few of us got much sleep. There was a small kernel of about 25+ people who put in a lot of effort. The guilds were, for the most part, Retribution, Order of the Red Branch, Slane and a few others.
* The largest battle occurred at the end of the 3rd day of the fighting I think. It was night and we had about 40-50 Hibernians in Nott. Midgard brought for it's last attack an army of 160, probably more since they kept pouring in. It was an incredibly long battle that rendered our PB almost worthless because of the 8-12 trebs they had lying just outside the keep. It was an amazing battle and a very very close one.
* Hibs say that Albs did not help us any. Mids say that w/o Albs we did not stand a chance. The truth, like always, lies somewhere in the middle. The support the Albs lent us at the time enabled us to wear down Midgard faster than we would have been able to without them. Whether or not we could do it w/o the Albs... Well... We will never know now, will we? I think there's a good chance we would have given up before the Mids if not for the Albs, but it was more of a Morale thing than a pure tactical thing.
* This was the first time Corpse Summoners were heavily used on Nimue. Maybe a week or two after they were introduced. We made good use of them. I remember the whines at the time about how Hibs would not have been able to pull it off w/o the Corpse Summoners. The plain truth is that we wouldn't have been able to. They made all the difference. Much more so than the albs.
* Edit: Oh, and the most important one... The attack we did with the albs on the Mid relic keep. What a fiasco. We did not "pull off" like I describe in the story. We died there that day. It was one of the stupidest things to attempt. We all learnt an important lesson.
Never ever fight along-side your enemy in large battles. It will f' you up worse than the ones you are fighting against can ever hope to achieve.
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Kalkir
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The story was well told Masnark. I was actually offline during that epic war, as my PC was broken. I do know that when i came back, Mids were burned out from that non stop effort, and that in some ways, Mid never fully recovered its unifed will top defend our frontiers at all costs. But other factors played in, too, like the SI raids that consumed so much time to do. Truly, the corpse summoner was a big factor in that both Albiona and Hibernia had the unending supply of troops, plus in thiose days the ones using the CS still received realm points while not giving up any when dying. This made the defense even more demoralizing in that the defenders were being penalized.
Thanks for the story. It was well told and is worth re-telling.
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Llava
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Thanks for taking the time to finish it, Mas.
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Masnark
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One last thing..
I really wanted to thank Glenin, Fiti, Baroness, Nony, Selej, Annud, Eyva, Altheia, Mia and Anela for bumping this. There's no way I would have gotten this past the 3rd post w/o you egging me on.
It was fun to write. Just wish it wasn't so long. I hate long RP Stories.
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Glenin
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Its just perfect !
Not too long and its kept my attention the whole way through
So there
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_Storme_
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Great story!
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.Dotty.
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This story was fantastically told from beginning to end. I could 'see' all the battles happening, and wish I'd been there to experience it. Now, I almost feel like I have. Thank you, Masnark.
<big keen hugs>
Oh! Thanks bunches for tacking this up at the Crossroads. It seems the story was tooo long for one piece of paper. So I tacked up another sheet right under it for ya.
http://luddworks.com/nimue/viewtopic.php?p=543#543
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Llava
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Let's get this thing Stickied.
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.Dotty.
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/nudge Still my favorite battle story.
Keen hugs! <hugs Masnark's knees>
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Masnark
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Like Toki says.. Only thing that makes me still miss DAoC is keens.
/hugs back
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Garrity
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Not sure how I ever missed this but that is one great story. Very well done.
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Llava
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I want a sequel. Mas, make up something cool and get to work.
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Glenin
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Yeah Come on
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.Dotty.
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Pffft! Massy to come back to the frontier and make more memories!
<practices her cute keen pouty faces>
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Casterbait
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Heya Masnark
I'm a slanie now
I know, I know, makes ya wonder what the world is comeing to if old Thenn is in Slane Baarit :P
Still miss the old days, which is funny becuase the old days for me started only after SI came out, so I missed all the really old , old days when the party was really going strong...
Would have really loved to have known Slane when you, Tokie and the rest were there, guess I'll just have to hold on to the times I had the oppurtunity to group with you all on those lucky occations I could...
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Viladin_Blackguard
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<cough> you spelled your guildname wrong.
BE SHAMED, MAH BROTHA!
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silvertorch
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24 page RP (in Word that is), very nice Mas.
I remember that 5 day seige we had .... I spent most of it in lag hell
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Nony-Mouse
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yeah, sequel would be neato.
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Masnark
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My outlook decided to send Llava's email (he sent me a link) into the junk mail folder - so I didnt see this until now.
The level of Artificial Intelligence is just amazing - I am impressed at it's ability to detect junk just from the sender name
As for another story...
I will think about it. If only I could tell the stories in hebrew, they would come out much more coherent - they wont read as if a 12 year old wrote them.
As for returning to the game...
14 months w/o DAOC... Long time. RL is just too damn interesting and full to be able to go back right now.
Even with pouty keens around.
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Llava
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(RP) The Key to Midgard's Heart (RP)
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Awesome, he'll think about it. I just figured he's get pissy and embarassed cause I bumped it. I should go bump the Night at the Parth Farm.
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.Dotty.
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Best Battle Ever.
and bumping something other than the sheep story.
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Cthul
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If masnark ever came back I bet I could get grun out for some fun
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Chan_chan
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((Preserving Nimue's past))
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