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| Author | The Chronicles of skunder |
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At noon, the skies grew dark again above the wizard army. The gargoyles took wing and headed to finish off the knights while the golems absorbed most of their attention.
King Avrian sat atop his mount some distance behind the fighting. His generals and aides pointed to the coming gargoyles. The king only smiled, waiting for them to approach. When at last the gargoyles had cleared half the distance, he ordered his aide to give the signal. Within seconds the order was given, flags flapping across a long line of Larklan scouts. A full mile away sixty Flights of griffins, fifty griffins in each Flight, emerged from a dense woodlands; Larklan riders on their backs, with lances at the ready, and swords at their sides.
The gargoyles were too far in to retreat, but striking the swordsmen would mean coming in to low to defend against an aerial assault from the griffins. The gargoyle swarm turned to face the oncoming griffins.
When the two forces met, the skies rained down with blood and stone alike. Strong griffin claws tore through stone wings and appendages, as Larklan swords hacked at creatures which ventured too close. The gargoyles fought tooth and nail, biting and clawing, then wrapping their stone tails around the griffins. Their larger numbers aided them, as several grabbed on to and then weighed down the griffins, seizing their wings, throwing their riders off to fall to their doom. The fighting became carnal, savage, and instinctual. Griffins and gargoyle alike would grab a hold of their foe, clawing and crushing the life out of them. Many griffins fell to the earth, gargoyles still attached because they wouldn’t let go or couldn’t escape the griffins grasp. Down below, blood and stone mingled as the blood of men washed over the iron frames of golems.
At the golem center, the Guardian Golem, visible even from the wizard’s camped army, battered and stomped the life out of swordsmen and cavalry alike. Few knights who made it near could damage the strong metal frame. The creature walked into the main encampment of the knights, destroying everything in its path, not knowing it was walking into a trap. As it lumbered forward, King Avrian, standing just in front of the line of ballista ordered the attack.
The heavy sounds of the oxybeles sounded from around the Guardian, the thick metal spears finally piercing the tough iron frame. Metal chains bound the spears to massive boulders, like anchors to stop the creature. Archers shot arrows, tied off with ropes, over the great golem, further enwrapping the creature. Hindered by the many ropes and chains, the Golem stood immobile, tugging at the forces holding him in place. Then the few ballista left fired off, sending massive tree trunk sized arrows into its belly and chest. A black oil dripped freely from the wounds, a sound like iron grating on iron burst free of the creature’s chest. Then, with one great pop and steam filled explosion, the Great Golem Guardian crashed down to the earth, the last ticks of its life heard as the gears inside it finally stopped turning.
Beneath it, another giant lay buried under its tons of metal and debris. King Avrian lay crushed by the immense weight of the Guardian Golem, though his army would not realize this for some time.
Across the field, demoralized and crestfallen at the loss of the Guardian, the magically Projected voice of King Archaelum sounded throughout the Fields of Larklan, signaling the retreat of his army.
* * * * * | Dominix Elvari Khuthra moved up nearly to the frontlines of her vast army of Dark Elves and the creatures of the under realm. A large consort of minotaur and Dark Elves attended her, some riding the massive giant lizards bred in the vaults of the dark earth. For miles behind her, the rest of her army spread out, still making their way along the long march towards the western Larklan border. It was a testimony to her will that such a great host followed her.
She was both strong and agile; beautiful yet with a power and rage which had brought the kingdom of the Dark Elves bowing before her. She alone was the voice and commander of the underground races, defeating her adversaries through ruthless and cunning uses of politics and assassination. By her decree alone, the underground races were brought together to serve the Dark Elves, the assault on the surface Elves had been planned and executed, and plans for conquering the humans thereafter had been set. To her people she was the salve to their wound, the cure to their malady. She brought purpose in the form of ultimate rulership.
They loved her as a queen, feared her like a goddess.
The Dominix stopped, looking down at the three scouts who had just returned from the frontline, spying on the battle of Larklan and Thurlmolan. They were dressed in dark garb, tightly wrapped bindings covering both the body and face, protecting their fair skin from the harsh unfamiliar Burning Sun. The symbol of the Black Dragon proudly showed on patches worn upon their arms.
The Dominix motioned, commanding the middle scout to speak. Without hesitation he spoke, “Dominix, it is amazing! Your plan is working beautifully. The knights and the wizards will destroy themselves without us lifting a finger against them.”
The Dominix sneered, her eyes flashing cold and deadly at the scout. Then she spoke, softly, enchantingly, like one might speak to a lover. “It is going as planned because that is what I said would happen. But I sense doubt in your words soldier. Doubt about how competent you feel your Dominix truly is?”
The scout, at first confused by her tone, began to realize he had somehow insulted his queen. He shook his head, denying that he would dare do such a thing. Too late.
The Dominix called out to her faithful followers, “He believes your Dominix is unsuitable to lead this army. He doubts my knowledge on how to dominate these pathetic humans!” A roar from the nearby throngs of Dark Elves and races of the underrealm rang out, muffling out the sharp cries of the lone scout. She silenced them all with a wave of her hands. “Who will avenge their Dominix’s honor? Who will kill this fool for his insolence?”
The throng screamed out once more, this time for the scout’s blood and life, they ran forward a few steps then came to an abrupt stop. One of the scouts nearby the traitor held a dagger in his hand, the blade deeply buried in the scout’s back. The doubting-scout looked to his chest where the blade had punctured through, a thin line of blood dribbling from his mouth. He looked up, into the unforgiving face of the Dominix. “I never -” | She stopped his words, bending over slightly so that he would be able to hear her, “Doubters are kin to traitors to our people. Die, knowing you have failed your people, and your Dominix.” The second scout twisted the blade, then removed the dagger unmercifully. The first, slumped down in a pool of his own blood.
The Dominix moved away from him now, turning abruptly back towards the killer. “Tell me. What news of the armies themselves?”
Wisely, the scout answered, “Most of the machines of the wizards lay broken and strewn across the green plains, and the wizards themselves are weak from the previous day. They expended much of their energies on Shielding their armies against the war engines of the knights.”
She interrupted, “War engines?”
The scout smiled slyly, “Yes My Dominix, but the wizards managed to destroy the majority of these as well. The knights have only a small force of foot soldiers and cavalry remaining compared to Your great armies. Their archers are plentiful however, and a large force of their winged beasts still remain. Not enough to pose the slightest threat, of course.”
Dominix Elvari Khuthra liked this scout. He was wise enough not to speak foolishly to the Dominix, as well as to make sure to speak favorably about what she wanted to hear. For today at least, he had managed not to get himself killed. She simply nodded, her eyes still scrutinizing.
The third scout spoke then, fear clinging to his words, “Dominix, there is still more news, if you permit me.”
She despised this one. His fear bathed him in a coward’s sweat. “Speak then,” she commanded dryly.
The scout seemed to work his words carefully, bringing attention to the panic he was feeling. “There was a rider, Dominix. One of their winged messengers. We saw him flying in from the north just before the Burning Sun went down.”
A slight rage seemed to be building up. She moved closer, asking, “And, what news does he bring? Have we been spotted?”
The scout answered, “That I can not be sure of, Dominix. It seems he was unaware of us as he was flying in from the north. Possibly only a messenger from one of the northern human villages.”
She seemed to consider the scout’s words for a long while, watching the beads of sweat form from above his brow, seeing his panicked eyes dart from side to side. At last she spoke, more to herself than to the scouts or the throng nearby. “The messenger is of no consequence. Whether he has seen us or not will not matter on the morrow. If they flee, we cut them down from the back. If they stand to fight, we tear into their fronts. Either way, the humans will fall as one, and I will at last take my place as ruler of the lands of both light and darkness.”
She looked over the two scouts, pleased at least in the news they brought her. She would let them both live to fight the battle on the morrow. What the next day would bring, she hadn’t decided yet.
* * * * * | Gilric, flew above the lands of Larklan coming ever closer to the battle. The day was nearly over, night sweeping in from the east. Already he could see the forces breaking apart, a battered army of gargoyles and golems were making their way back across the Fields of Larklan to their wizard masters. Griffins were circling high above the knight army, protecting their beleaguered soldiers down below.
It was a scene of misery and of death.
As he neared, a half dozen griffin riders circled up behind him, taking flank on the newcomer wearing guardian armor. They blocked him off, signaling him to land immediately, and where they instructed. He complied.
Touching down to solid earth again, Sir Gilric dismounted and handed off the reins of his flying mount. He walked forward to where the other six griffin riders were similarly dismounting, already one was coming forward to question him.
Gilric pulled his helm back, just as the other knight began his questioning. The knight stopped mid speech, falling to one knee. Behind him the other five riders kneeled down as well.
Gilric was taken aback. He had rehearsed a dozen speeches about how he would try to explain what had happened back at Aukzale Fortress and his breakout. He was sure that they wouldn’t matter, a traitor wasn’t shown mercy, and an escaped criminal was shown the gallows. Around him now other knights had taken notice of the bowing soldiers, and to whom they were all kneeled in front of. Wave after wave of soldiers fell to one knee, those who couldn’t due to injury merely bowed their head to show their homage and respect.
Even as he stood there stammering and confused, the generals of Larklan rode forward, each dismounting and bowing before him.
“Enough! What madness is this that you bow before me? Where is my father? Where is the king of Larklan?” Gilric was yelling now, but he seemed to know it before the questions were answered.
High General Thaowin rose, pronouncing so all nearby could hear. “Son of Avrian, son of Uewin, your father has been slain in battle. You are our king now!”
Gilric was silent. All his preparation and rehearsal hadn’t prepared him for this. Even when sentenced to Aukzale Fortress he hadn’t wished such a fate on his father nor since his uncle’s death did he think much of what his being an heir to the throne might eventually mean.
There was no time for grief now, no time for idle wondering. The knights of Larklan had seen enough grief and senselessness recently. It was time for a new action.
“Generals, rise. There is much work to be done,” said King Gilric.
High General Thaowin agreed, glad to see the wits returning to the boy. He jumped forward ready to prepare the new king for his first day of battle. “King Gilric, I will brief you of the current state of the men and -”.
Gilric cut him off, “There is no need for a briefing. I know what must be done, but there is not much time to do it in.”
* * * * * | Morning came to the Fields of Larklan, rays of light cutting the darkness away like a thousand gilded swords banishing a dark monster.
Where once the field had been green pastures, now shown a plain of carnage. The fallen machinations of the wizards lay at the base of the Larklan camp, gremlin wagons were abandoned or burned to the ground, gargoyle corpses were scattered throughout having dug great craters in the earth where they fell to the ground. The bodies of men had been gathered together, to be prepared for a proper burial.
Dominix Elvari Khuthra stood on a hill overlooking the field of battle. Throughout the night her army had marched forward towards battle, its legions walking in line and moving through the darkness like a great winding snake. They stood just a short distance from the Field of Larklan now, ready to strike down the humans.
The Dominix had expected fear from the humans as her army rolled over the last hill. She wanted to see the shocked expressions as the armies gathered for war with one another, to find her army there waiting, to see the hope drain from their faces. She wanted to see them tremble before her might and majesty. She half expected them to flee, running back into their walled cities and pathetic castles.
She was displeased as she scanned the view before her.
The armies of Larklan had moved across the field, taking the position just in front of the cliff wall. Swordsmen and cavalry waited there, with pockets of golems filling in the spaces in between. They were united, positioned towards her coming army.
Above them, gemlin shooters, Larklan archers, and elven long bowmen lined the cliff wall behind them, with wizards disbursed in between each of these units. Behind, them, stretching out on the plateau beyond were the aerial strikers including griffins with their riders and stoic gargoyles.
The Dominix chuckled softly to herself, allowing those nearest her to see her amusement. “How sweet, they wish to fight. We shall not disappoint them.” She turned back over the hill, raising her hands, then swiftly turning she thrust her hands outward towards the waiting human armies. The roar of the Dark Elven army sounded and swept forward as the creatures of the underground launched themselves over the final hill and towards glory for their queen.
* * * * * | King Gilric saw the Dark Elves rushing forward, minotaur; Dark Elves, Lizard Cavalry, formidable hydras all seeking the deaths of the humans. Even if Larklan and Thurlmolan hadn’t dwindled each others armies down in the last few days, the Dark Elven army would still be nearly unstoppable.
Even as they neared, he received news of an incoming griffin messenger. He read the dispatch, “The freed elves of the north are still days out of range and will be too late. We face this danger without them.” Gilric cursed softly to himself. He had hoped that the elves would make it in time, that they might be able to aide them in these last moments. That hope was now lost.
Already the enemy came into range of archers and volleys of gremlin rocks, and human and elven arrows soared into the skies, falling into the ranks of the Dark Elves. Wizard lightning bolts and fiery blasts shot down into the Lizard Cavalry, slowing them, but not ending the assault.
From atop the cliff, King Archaelum looked down at the throngs of monsters surging forward. The feeble attacks weren’t enough; whether arrow or incendiary fireball they were merely poking the eye of great monster, managing to only infuriate it further. Their cause was lost.
* * * * * | Dominix Elvari Khuthra watched as the front ranks of her army crashed into the waiting knights and golems positioned there. The sound thundered back to her as metal clanged against metal, and the screams of the dying rose up. She took it in, relishing it like sweet ecstasy.
Her joy was short-lived.
The horns of the deep blared behind her, the rear scouts warning of an oncoming threat. She looked to see her rear army turning to face a new enemy. Over the west hills between Larklan and the Blooming Glade, a figure appeared riding atop a one-horned white steed, behind him sat an elven boy. She knew his face. Knew what it meant that he was here. The Lorekeeper boy they called Skunder, ushering in the army of the Glade.
The figure on the unicorn looked back over the hill, then again to her army. As he did, a herd of unicorn bounded over, swarming around them were clouds of faeries and sprites. Then the forest itself seemed to shamble upwards, Tree Folk making their way to the top of the hill, readying for the assault on the bewildered Dark Elven army. Amidst them all walked elven elders, covered with runes and appearing as wild men - Druids, elves of an ancient and mysterious order.
She was between two armies now.
She looked back to the human army. Her army was tearing into the ground forces as expected, thrashing the knights and golems with little resistance. Above, the archers and wizards were still picking off her forces meant to reinforce the front waves.
Then the wizards stop firing, she thought it a promise of their defeat. Instead, they each removed a small golden object, rubbing its surface feverishly. She watched as the objects seemingly exploded, releasing a cloud of blue vapors. The vapors then coalesced into large humanoid shapes. Even in the dark holes of the world, the Dark Elves had been aware of the genies.
The genies floated down to the front line, patching holes where golems and swordsmen had fallen. They hacked away minotaur and lizard alike, beating back the best attacks of their most skilled Dark Elven warriors.
For the first time, the Dominix saw her control slipping from her grasp. Her army would be trapped between the two forces. The south was cut off to her by the sheer cliff wall, the west filled with the Glade army. She ordered her captains to the north, directing them to begin to fall back to the former Larklan border. From there she could make her stand, and even gain the victory in this quickly turned battle.
* * * * * | Along the north side of the Field of Larklan, a pinpoint of light appeared, expanding outward.
The north erupted in fire.
Grass, stone, machines of war, and mechanical constructs caught fire and quickly burned away. The heat and force rolled into the plains, causing all to stop and stare. When the fire died away, a single being stood in its spot, appearing where the small point of light once had been.
Cyrallin, still bathed in the light of the fires of Hell, held the tablet high. The soft glow emanating off of it fell upon her now, increasing in intensity as she read the sacred texts off of its surface. Each of the names inscribed upon it illuminated golden red. Holding its concentration, she summoned forth the hordes of hell.
They appeared as one, in a great fiery blast. The demons, led by Arazanos, roared and bellowed at the exultation of being once more upon the world. Freedom was theirs, release from the prison of hell - escape. Behind them appeared their legions; imps led by spawn task masters, hoof footed demons, the doglike wolfhounds, tyrannical succubi, flaming hell horses, and a few had mastered control of the terrifying cave demons from the deepest crags of hell.
With eyes dripping with hatred for their former rulers they stared down at the Dark Elves and their terror stricken queen. Vengeance would be theirs.
* * * * * | The Dominix saw her peril, trapped by three forces, no way to escape, and more than enough anger burning in them all. She screamed out at her forces now, “Draw back from the cliffs! Move through these demons and to home. Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!”
The underground armies seemed to not understand the word, the idea to retreat had never been thought during the plans of conquering the surface world. Now it was their reality. The army that had believed they were going to triumph was fleeing for their lives.
As they fled the other armies fell upon them, cutting them down in their haste to retreat. The bulk of the Dark Elven army became trapped between the demon and Glade army, then the Larklan cavalry cut into the rear like a spear. Swordsmen, golems, and genies joined the attack, splitting the Dark Elven army into two disorganized masses. From above, the griffins and gargoyles hurled boulders at the already overburdened under-armies, destroying their morale as death became certain from every direction.
Dominix Elvari Khuthra became cut off with a troop of her elite Dark Elven warriors, female fighters known simply as the Shrews of El’atrazhoul. They surrounded her from enemy attacks, whirling with unnatural speed as they cut and dived, blocked and dodged. Slowly they dwindled down, as a pack of unicorns circled around them, stabbing with their magical horns. Lightning bolts from the mystical druids cast down from the skies, striking those who managed to evade the piercing strike of the unicorns.
The enemy surrounded the Dominix, stopping her escape. A single unicorn approached, a rider stepping off with his twin blades pointed out towards her. Guilm advanced cautiously, leaving the boy Lorekeeper atop the steed.
The last of the Dominix’s Shrew protectors lashed forward coming for Guilm. Their once beautiful elven features were turned by their hatred; that anger showed on their faces now.
Guilm deflected the first attack, knocking the downward stab away. Another came to his side, stabbing with a quick jab to his thigh. Blood poured freely. The last of the Shrews ran behind him, hoping to strike his back and be done with it. Guilm however deftly blocked the back attack, throwing the Shrew off balance with a second blade that danced dangerously close to her. The other two moved against him, but his blades kept them at bay. The three Shrews carried on their attack, moving as one either towards or away from Guilm as he went on and off of the offensive.
At last he saw his moment. The Shrews became predictable in their attacks, running around, then attacking in timed precision one after the other. He snapped into action. Guilm kicked off hard from the ground, jumping over one of the Shrew blades. Bringing his other foot up, he twisted his body in mid air. With it he kicked out, striking the first Shrew hard in the cheek. She fell backwards, her neck broken. As he came for a landing the second Shrew stabbed towards his gut. He blocked with his left blade, and as he landed sliced the Shrew’s thigh with his right. She screamed out clutching the wound, then crawled away to escape Guilm’s wrath.
The last Shrew began a dazzling display of swordplay, swinging and clashing her two swords as she moved forward for the kill. Guilm waited. She came within striking distance, her face a snarl once more as she came swinging. Guilm deflected; right blade over, left blade under. She attacked again, and was blocked once more; right blade meeting hers at about hip height, left blade clanging at neck level. A half dozen more strikes were thrown, all blocked with a loud clang. He countered, thrusting both his blades in a stabbing position towards her chest. She lifted her blades, coming between Guilm’s and then pulled outwards. His swords flew wide, but it opened her middle. He sent a hard, straight kick to her gut. She fell forward coughing. Guilm brought the pommel of his blade down hard, knocking her unconscious. | With the last of the Dominix’s defenses gone, Skyn’Da spoke up, “This is how it ends Elvari, your plots have been discovered and your people are beaten once more. It is over. Surrender.”
The Dominix shot back, “It is never over fool! A thousand millennia will pass and find our people still at war.”
Skyn’Da answered, “Our conflict is already ages old, something that ought not to have been allowed to be forgotten, something that should be given to the memory of every elf, Lorekeeper or not. Your acts should not be forgotten, and will not.”
The Dominix hissed, “You are wrong Lorekeeper. With your death, the cycle will continue, and our armies will plague you for another thousand years!” Another word of magic followed, forming a bolt of dark magic within her hand. With a violent snarl she shot the dark bolt at the Lorekeeper, crackling with black lightning as it made its way.
The bolt connected – just short of its target.
Guilm fell to one knee, his twin blades falling to the ground beside him. His shoulder lay ripped open, still sizzling and bleeding from the blast. His eyes wide open, mouth muttering incoherently, he fell forward.
The Dominix cursed aloud, the elf commander had jumped in front of her strike, saving the Lorekeeper’s miserable existence. She wouldn’t get another chance.
Skyn’Da kicked the sides of the unicorn sending it into immediate action. It leapt forward, lowering its head, then brought it up just under the Dominix. She gasped aloud, blood trickling from her silently screaming mouth. She reached down, feeling the horn; tracing it to where it impaled her chest.
Another shudder passed through her body as the unicorn shook her off of its horn. She fell to her feet, grasping her chest and seeking aide. She tried to form the words, but no sound emitted. In her mind she screamed aloud, asking for aide, for healing, to end the torment.
Around her she saw only the enemy, staring pathetically as her life ebbed away. Beyond them her army didn’t even try to breach the enemy’s ranks to save her. They were breaking, fleeing, fighting like cornered dogs, not warriors of a proud nation. She knew they would die as she soon would.
This wasn’t right. She was a Queen! This was not how it was supposed to end!!
She stumbled to the ground, falling over one of her own Shrews. Her face hit the ground, her body unable to rise again. The last visions of her life passed between long blinks. A single vision persisted, that of Skyn’Da and the druids standing over the damned elf that had saved the Lorekeeper. She watched as they carried him away while she lay in the dirt and blood.
Breathing became harder, the sounds of her dying army filled her ears. Her sight dimmed. She was accustomed to the darkness, lived in the underground her entire life. It was something she thought would always be a comfort to her. For the first time in her long brutal existence, she became afraid of the dark.
It consumed her; the sounds fading, light was gone. The Dominix of El’atrazhoul breathed her last, and died.
* * * * * | The ‘Dark Elven War’ (and what those within the underground would come to call the ‘Battle of Ascension’) ended. The army of the underground was crushed; its people surrendered when they realized their queen was dead and escape was impossible. As enraged as the demons were, that surrender was nearly ignored, until Cyrallin forcefully commanded them to cease. She appointed the demon lord Arazanos Commander of the Demon Legions, placing him in control of containing them. Bound by the power of the tablet, he upheld his duty with ruthless efficiency.
When the underground army was finally disassembled and returned to the city of El’atrazhoul, the combined forces of Larklan, Thurlmolan, and the elven people demanded a treaty of peace from the Dark Elves. They initially tried to hold out, but the promise of a full demon invasion ended the dispute. Emissary Kh’Everst signed the treaty, formerly declaring the end of the war. He was allowed to live, despite his transgressions, on the understanding that he would maintain the peace within the Dark Elven community. A troop of demons was left in El’atrazhoul to make sure the Dark Elves didn’t go back on their word. The tactic proved to be quite effective.
Weeks passed.
With the major negotiations with the Dark Elves over, and the demons made to serve the wizards, Thurlmolan found a new resting place for the rune-inscribed tablet. In the center of their city, where the Guardian Golem once stood, they constructed a circular chamber infused with magical barriers around it. Nearly two dozen of the highest ranking wizards worked to cast spells of warding on the tablet, in the end creating a web of magical hexes meant to prevent all but the king of Thurlmolan himself from gaining possession of the tablet. Despite it being in plain site, the wizards felt assured that it was the safest treasure in the entire kingdom.
North in the Fields of Larklan, the scene of battle was being erased and a new landscape now took its place. The green grasses now flourished, cleansed of the patches of dirt and boulders made by the warring armies. A field of graves had been dug, with tombstones dotting the scene in even rows along the entire north side and much of the south. Most were the graves of Larklan soldiers, though some housed the fallen wizards of Thurlmolan. Special markers showed those brave griffin riders and their mounts who had died in battle.
In the center of the great field a monument had been constructed. It showed the combined efforts of those who had fought for their very existence that day. Towering above the field, the Guardian Golem stood, reformed and glorious; it was flanked by the Larklan cavalry in triumphantly charging rows and with a rear guard of elven bowmen. The memorial was made to show the unity of the three kingdoms, and to ensure that none forgot that they had fought as one that day.
While this commemoration was being constructed, a ceremony took place in Larklan which brought the witnesses of the entire kingdom and many from those nearby. After taking the highest oath of any knight in the kingdom, Sir Gilric of Orborin became King Gilric of Larklan. A month later, he married Cyrallin, the Princess of Thurlmolan, uniting the two kingdoms after long centuries of distrust and dispute. Their lives together would mark the greatest change in the future of the two kingdoms, and far greater. | In the Blooming Glade, a tomb was built for the hero of the Dark Elven War (at least the hero concerning the elven people). When the elves returned at last to their homeland, reclaiming the capital after being abandoned by the demons, a great memorial was constructed in honor of their fallen hero. In the courtyard below the Arbortarium, a fountain was built with running waters and white-stone statues of unicorn defenders. A plaque in the center of the memorial read:
Guilm Eulavane:
Elite Commander of the Forest Keepers.
Savior of the Glade,
Who gave his life protecting the history of the elves.
Those who looked hard enough would find a small addendum to the pastoral scene; the stone carved form of a bow with two elven sabers leaning against one of the carved trees. A single etched carving on the bow wrote, “The sacrifice of one, so an entire people can live. Thank you Jannneria for your insight and love.” The addition had been demanded by Skyn’Da to complete the dedication.
At the completion ceremony, Skyn’Da gave the eulogy, speaking shortly about the merits of Guilm’s leadership and fighting prowess, but went into great depths about his character; noting his compassion towards others, his loyalty to friends, his perseverance even in the darkest of moments, and his self-sacrificing nature – which in the end had been his last act of service to those he loved. He concluded it with, “Guilm did not fight because of duty, though he was the finest of officers, but instead because he loved those he was sworn to protect. It is his example that we honor today and forever more. Not just with this statue, but hopefully with all the days we share with one another.” | After the ceremony, Skyn’Da joined the elven council high in the Arbortarium. Amongst them were Quetlisse and her father Pryvius. The Young Quetlisse approached him, a hand on his shoulder. “Skyn’Da, that was quite a speech.”
“Words can not give homage to one such as Guilm, my Lady,” Skyn’Da replied.
She smiled sadly, though tried to comfort the grief stricken youth, “If any words were able to do so, it was those you spoke today, Skyn’Da.”
The young Lorekeeper looked to her, water filling the corner of his eyes. “Thank you my lady, you are very kind.” She smiled, less sad this time. Skyn’Da looked to her for some time before commenting again, “Lady Quetlisse, I have decided something.”
“Yes Skyn’Da, what is it?”
He answered, “When I spoke to the Dark Elf queen upon the battlefield, she said something that struck me quite hard and I have not been able to look past it yet.”
“And what is that?”
Skyn’Da continued, “I just think of how our people could have forgotten such a horrible piece of their history. Even the passage of time should not allow us to forget the friends we have lost, the pains we have endured, and the trials we have overcome. I do not wish to forget those days I spent as their prisoner, being hated and knowing my people were being enslaved or killed for some past grievance.” She merely nodded her agreement.
Skyn’Da finished, “It is because of this that I have decided to take on the name the Dark Elves had given me. From now on, I will be known as Skunder, to let those who come after me be aware of the danger that some wish upon us.”
Quetlisse was proud and even awed; it was evident in her beautiful eyes. “Your wisdom is far greater than your years show Skunder. You will make a great Lorekeeper.”
She looked up for a moment, recognition showing on her face. “Ah, but don’t let your youth be taken so fast from you. I believe you have visitors which may still want that time back with you.” She gestured to the door now.
Skunder turned, a smile brimming on his all too serious face. The tears he had kept until now began to spill down his face as his legs somehow started carrying him forward. Entering, running forward themselves were Skunder’s parents and young sister, Zyanya. They had made it through the carnage alive.
The rest of the night passed too quickly. The events and the speeches ended, and at last Skunder and his family were allowed to return to their home. It was as if the recent atrocities were a lifetime away now; and though their sting would not be forgotten, it showed that there might just be peace at the end.
* * * * * | | [Post deleted by moderator Skunder // Error] | A year after the Dark Elven War ended, Skunder returned to the Fields of Larklan for the first time since the battle had been fought there. A great host of people from the three kingdoms were present showing the unity still existed. When Skunder arrived with the elven consort he was welcomed back as much a hero as Guilm had been back home.
The formal events seemed like second nature to him now, as he had resumed his duties as the chief Lorekeeper, studying the ancient texts as well as finding new Lorekeepers which to pass the information on to. Now he stood amongst friends, with King Gilric and Queen Cyrallin. They greeted with a great hug and stories of the past year, discovering what news the other had from their homeland. The greatest of this of course was when Skunder found out that the Queen was pregnant, and would shortly have her and Gilric’s first child, an heir to the kingdoms of Larklan and Thurlmolan, but mostly because he was named the Godparent and Protector of the child.
He would only spend a week amongst his friends in the human lands, and though he had to return home, he would return many times in the near future. Often it was for official business as the role of Lorekeeper, and others he would just sneak away from the elven Glade to see them.
In this way he was present for the birth of the child, watched as he grew from a young boy to a powerful man, with the skill and honor of his father and the wit and zeal of his mother. Throughout his youth and manhood, Skunder chronicled the boy’s tales and heroic deeds, recording the events that led to the boy’s own coronation to becoming King, and later on…the first Emperor. | | closed by Skunder (2009-09-10 12:18:52) |
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