Dwarf World Tribune 9-21-10
Come forth all Artists as your time is now! Take a look at the art contest for badges! You could win fame and fortune. Well fame and fortune here in Xhodon! 1st place gets a winning badge and 50 runes! Check out the link for information on how to submit. http://forum.xhodon.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=41&t=3450
The Villagers of Milliways heard a faint sound like rumbling thunder in the distance. A cloud of dust rose from the horizon. The rumbling grew louder and louder so that discernible sounds could be heard ...chinks of armor clicking on armor, bellows of great and small beasts.
Around the green rolling hills like a snake, the great army of light moved towards the village. The milling villagers parted as the golden horde passed along the main street towards the far side of the village. Dwarven workers left the great column and headed to the towns crystal cavern.
While dryads glided to the town’s tree of life, school of herbs.
Leading the army were great lords of light followed by knights holding brilliant golden banners floating in the mid-days gentle breeze. A cloaked rider parted from the lead of the army and went to the village circle and dismounted and walked to the side of the village’s tree of life. Turning, the rider faced the gathering crowd and removed the cloak's hood. A beautiful red headed woman stood before the townsfolk and announced that her name was Alatte and that "Light has returned to this land. This village...this village of Milliways is now under I and my army's direct protection." Walking away from the tree of life she shouted to her scouts and directed them to find her head general Cptpain. Cptpain had been leading the advance scout of the centaur cavalry. She grabbed the scouts arm and told him to tell Cptpain that "The village has been secured and that production has been started." Walking back to the Tree of life Alatte thought to herself "here will be the foundation of a great kingdom".
No Door Closes Unless Another Opens XIII
The two made well along the path. Alexandria had given way to her paranoia and gut instinct thus decided against the main route. She and Auberon seemed too had favored silence in that moment and time. No doubt they were both deep within thought. Auberon cleared his conscience and when he came to, he realized Alexandria had chose not to sheathe her weapon though they were closing in on their destination. Just as the walls of the magnificent kingdom came into view they noticed a horseman speeding off down the main road. They were well concealed by the brush and foliage. There lay something malevolent regarding the rider, the beast he rode upon even had malicious disposition and a peculiar gait to match. The aura itself about the two could not be mistaken. It was as if the day would wear a shroud of darkness where ever this being was present. They ducked low as the triad consisting of rider, horse and aura passed along. Auberon rose first sniffing at the atmosphere and none the less committing the foul odor to memory. No telling what fate would have befell them had they chose the less scenic route. Alexandria made a gesture as one would do upon an answered prayer.
The youths then made haste to the innards of the palace to find the place at its usual pace. Some greeted them some shied away but they all gave a bow out of respect before doing so. This was well accepted though in true it aroused Alexandria's suspicion. Something was not as it should have been. The two made their way through the courtyards. The barracks were active and productive as soldiers old and young could be seen sparring with one another. They came to a pause to praise Alexandria some due to her lineage and birthrights others to her skill. She noticed Auberon still carried about a look of unease. Moments later they stood within the Royal Chambers. The King and Queen were elated to see their princess. The King spoke of grand tidings. A child-hood friend from Gerasenes had stopped in to entertain him with stories of archeology and of the wildest magic’s. Alexandria noticed the Behemoth sniffing the air just as the clarity of what her father said donned on her.
Threads of Death
As I lay upon the grass in my gardens, I see the many clouds roll by. I smell the faint scent of roses and gardenia. I turn my head to watch the fluttering fairies as they fuss over the flowers. Today is a pleasant day. In times of darkness and war like this, there are very few moments you can watch the beauty of the world and remember why you fight the battles. But you must take a moment and watch the natural world to truly appreciate the life around you.
Ticks away from my palace courtyard where things are so calm, death takes a heavy toll upon all who witness or are affected by it. The dark shroud of Death follows us all upon the battlefield. He will strike us all at one time or another. With his wicked scythe and is bony fingers he clings to that last thread of our lives and feels the vibrations of it, just before he strikes to cut that thread away. He revels in the moments as our lives drain from this world. As he watches the light leave our eyes, he feels loneliness, a kind of sadness that he cannot follow us to the next world. This angers him and he looks for his next victim. If he cannot follow, he will find a way to make prisoners of us all. He decides to search for a special magic of his own.
For a short time his journey takes him too many of his normal places. Snowy mountain tops, to sandy beaches, he travels them all. Taking the threads of life with him as he finds them, he no longer cuts them as before. Now he tries to experiment with ways to follow after the lights and souls of others.
He comes upon many varied weapons that dealers claim will do as he wants. No longer to heroes and armies see him upon the battlefield. Now some even die when not fighting. It is a curse! But even though he tries many new weapons, still he cannot follow. In his anger he cuts the threads of all he has gathered along his journey. The heroes do not die! With such a large out pour of anger he realizes that the heroes never die. The armies of all the creatures he has cut…. They do not die! He watches as the lights fly back to their shaman huts to be reborn. “WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?” He cries to the heavens. He realizes why he cannot follow them. They return to whence they came to come again. They do not go beyond this world. He realizes he is trapped here, doomed to chase existence in a circle of life and death in this world. This is just a world of pawns, while the gods play their games, and he is but a game piece amidst it all.
He begins his hunt anew knowing that for now, he is but a slave to the gods who play these games as are those armies and heroes. One day he vows, he will find a way to meet those gods in person.
Aspiring Scribes! Ever get the urge to write? Send me a story by Friday of the week, and I will post it in the Monday edition.
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