Post by kaioinazuma18 on Oct 3, 2010 16:53:00 GMT -5
Chapter 1:
Soul to Squeeze
It was a quiet evening, silence broken only by the wing beats of a local finch. The sunset was gorgeous, a deep caramel hue lighting up half of the evening sky, but nothing was too different to distinguish it from any other ordinary evening. The sun sat as it normally did on a fall evening. It was an unusually cool evening for this part of the world. It was silent; the air still as usual, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was only then that a flying object split through the sky, obviously extremely fast. It was an unusual sight for people not from the area. Of course, if the forests with trees that stood at an average five hundred feet wasn’t a dead giveaway, then the massive creatures that inhabited them would be an unfortunate surprise.
This area wasn’t a forest, though. It was a wasteland. For as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but rocks and dirt. Massive black and gray rock outcroppings as well as a massive mountain off in the distance, jagged and blade-like all the way up the slope. The wasteland spread for hundreds of miles, the site of a massive volcanic anomaly that nearly destroyed an entire continent. To the north were the rolling hills and grasslands common to the central province, but it was a very expansive area. Some people even lived out in the wastes, studying and forming small colonies of desert-dwelling folks.
At the very edge of the wastes sat a man, staring out over the wasteland dyed a deep orange hue by the setting sun. Everything took on either a golden yellow hue or a deep orange depending on its composition. He was a wanderer, a peaceful man with a mysterious past. He caused no trouble, but ended quite a bit in his long history. Of course, he didn’t really tell many people about it. The only person he had ever told was dead now, so it didn’t matter to him. Apathy had become a way of life instead of a state of mind. Then again, living a long time did that to people. Especially when they had seen enough horrors that would drive a normal person insane.
No, he certainly was not normal by any means. If anyone could understand, they would know his predicament. He turned his back on the sun, heading east, towards the mountains. Between the wastelands and the plains ran a river, wide and deep, clean and clear despite the amount of sediment running on the bottom of the river. He looked at the river, walking alongside it towards the mountains that, at the moment were just a hazy outline in the distance.
Everyone knew about them. Those mountains were the home to the most hospitable people, in the most inhospitable place in the known world. The mountains were impassable, ice and snow capped in the wintertime, and often littered with bandits just hiding and waiting to prey off the stragglers of any convoy that tried to pass through Gurraen’s Gap, the most famous pass to the eastern provinces. Bandits were fierce in this area, and one would always have to be on their guard when in the pass, always at the ready to kill or be killed. Wild animals and bandits were a sure fire happening if one was to cross the pass, and more often than not, the convoy would come out bedraggled and road-weary, if it came out at all. Times were harsh in the outlands, especially on the southeastern border of the main provinces. Those who couldn’t prescribe to the code that the dragon riders prescribed resided in the much shorter mountain range that spanned the border. The Haughtan Mountains were the main border between the central provinces and the outlands, as they were informally called. Formally, they were known as the outer provinces, but it made no difference which term was used to describe them.
So he walked, tirelessly and endlessly, to find the main road along the base of the mountain range. Supposedly, there was a wide trade road that could take him to the north, past the Vivalde Gorge and up to the northern part of the central provinces. Much unlike the main road which got to the Vivalde Gorge and stopped, the bridge gone, destroyed in a war long past and long forgotten, but one that the traveler knew all too well. Some people would see immortality as a gift, but in a world tainted by cruelty and greed, immortality was a curse that had repercussions far beyond human comprehension. His silence dragged on, his footsteps light on the path. His concern was just with traveling, if he had any concern at all. He was free, and no one could stop him from being that. He hummed a soft song peacefully to himself as he walked, the mountains growing closer. They were still a ways off, but still, he was headed in the right direction.
Hoof beats and a few incoherent shouts later, highwaymen, the bandits of the lowlands, surrounded him. The path cut off by the leader with a short sword and the grunts with bows. He stopped in his tracks, remaining still while the circled him. “Now, you can just drop all of your belongings, or my men can turn you into a pincushion. Which would you rather have?” The leader inquired, a sly smirk on his face.
“If I can be blatantly honest with you… neither.” The traveler said as his feet shifted, the earth moving out from underneath the leader’s horse, causing him to almost impale himself on the sword as the horse fell to the ground. The leader, caught of guard, yelled a line of incoherent swears and got up, growling as he swung the sword. “You bugger, you’re an elementalist.” The traveler grinned and the grunts looked between each other, obviously apprehensive of attacking the traveler.
“You’re absolutely correct, I am an elementalist…. But….” The traveler stated simply, holding his hand out as a ball of fire appeared in it. “Not just one.” At that the grunts took off, leaving the leader. “Looks like its just you and me now.” He said as he unsheathed his own short sword, nothing compared to his main weapon. The short sword was only a sidearm.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” The leader asked, sheathing his sword as the horse got up.
The traveler began walking. “Some call me Geist… but my name is Dhako Erhart.” He said calmly before disappearing down the road. No blood had been shed, and yet there was a look of bewilderment and surprise as the highwayman’s quarry walked off with all of his belongings. Much to their surprise, their intended quarry was one of the most skilled elementalists. Dhako, though he seemed about the age of twenty to twenty five, was actually hundreds of years old, one of the original elementalists. His complexion had not changed in hundreds of years, nor had his principle of pacifism. At least not yet.
Dhako was not ready to give up his beliefs nor was he willing to sacrifice his freedom. He was glad to be free, unlike most of those who were bound to their kingdoms, however, he was not that way, and he wasn't going to change in the least bit. Nighttime was setting in already and he noticed the stars coming out. It was absolutely beautiful, but then he remembered what had happened at the beginning, how exiles from Earth-That-Was simply dropped off the convicts on this planet, knowing that they would have to survive in the hostile but earth-like climate. They gave the convicts nothing but ancient tools to work with. Dhako had been one of the lucky ones, watching what he suspected to be just like watching the development of the ancient cro-magnon people of old-Earth. He was going to get off this god-forsaken rock if he had any idea of what was going on out there. But hooo boy was it sure beautiful.
The development of the civilization had been marred. Their environment had affected some people heavilly, giving them intense powers of foresight, or even elemental abilities. Dhako was the unlucky one.... he had been born with both elemental abilities and foresight. As he crested a hill, he saw a small walled city, obviously protecting itself from the native Kyolus, lizard-like creatures much unlike the dragons of the mountains which spat an acid that almost literally melted flesh away from the bone. Dhako was lucky he hadn't run into one yet, for more than one reason. Kyolus ran in packs. Where one was, ten more were at least.
It was then that a massive fireball lit up the night sky, a ship coming out of orbit. It made him think, who could it be, and why would they be landing. The only reason would be convicts going to the high-security prison out in the wastes on the opposite side of the planet. But that did not explain why it was coming down at such a high rate of speed, and on their side of the planet.
Soul to Squeeze
It was a quiet evening, silence broken only by the wing beats of a local finch. The sunset was gorgeous, a deep caramel hue lighting up half of the evening sky, but nothing was too different to distinguish it from any other ordinary evening. The sun sat as it normally did on a fall evening. It was an unusually cool evening for this part of the world. It was silent; the air still as usual, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was only then that a flying object split through the sky, obviously extremely fast. It was an unusual sight for people not from the area. Of course, if the forests with trees that stood at an average five hundred feet wasn’t a dead giveaway, then the massive creatures that inhabited them would be an unfortunate surprise.
This area wasn’t a forest, though. It was a wasteland. For as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but rocks and dirt. Massive black and gray rock outcroppings as well as a massive mountain off in the distance, jagged and blade-like all the way up the slope. The wasteland spread for hundreds of miles, the site of a massive volcanic anomaly that nearly destroyed an entire continent. To the north were the rolling hills and grasslands common to the central province, but it was a very expansive area. Some people even lived out in the wastes, studying and forming small colonies of desert-dwelling folks.
At the very edge of the wastes sat a man, staring out over the wasteland dyed a deep orange hue by the setting sun. Everything took on either a golden yellow hue or a deep orange depending on its composition. He was a wanderer, a peaceful man with a mysterious past. He caused no trouble, but ended quite a bit in his long history. Of course, he didn’t really tell many people about it. The only person he had ever told was dead now, so it didn’t matter to him. Apathy had become a way of life instead of a state of mind. Then again, living a long time did that to people. Especially when they had seen enough horrors that would drive a normal person insane.
No, he certainly was not normal by any means. If anyone could understand, they would know his predicament. He turned his back on the sun, heading east, towards the mountains. Between the wastelands and the plains ran a river, wide and deep, clean and clear despite the amount of sediment running on the bottom of the river. He looked at the river, walking alongside it towards the mountains that, at the moment were just a hazy outline in the distance.
Everyone knew about them. Those mountains were the home to the most hospitable people, in the most inhospitable place in the known world. The mountains were impassable, ice and snow capped in the wintertime, and often littered with bandits just hiding and waiting to prey off the stragglers of any convoy that tried to pass through Gurraen’s Gap, the most famous pass to the eastern provinces. Bandits were fierce in this area, and one would always have to be on their guard when in the pass, always at the ready to kill or be killed. Wild animals and bandits were a sure fire happening if one was to cross the pass, and more often than not, the convoy would come out bedraggled and road-weary, if it came out at all. Times were harsh in the outlands, especially on the southeastern border of the main provinces. Those who couldn’t prescribe to the code that the dragon riders prescribed resided in the much shorter mountain range that spanned the border. The Haughtan Mountains were the main border between the central provinces and the outlands, as they were informally called. Formally, they were known as the outer provinces, but it made no difference which term was used to describe them.
So he walked, tirelessly and endlessly, to find the main road along the base of the mountain range. Supposedly, there was a wide trade road that could take him to the north, past the Vivalde Gorge and up to the northern part of the central provinces. Much unlike the main road which got to the Vivalde Gorge and stopped, the bridge gone, destroyed in a war long past and long forgotten, but one that the traveler knew all too well. Some people would see immortality as a gift, but in a world tainted by cruelty and greed, immortality was a curse that had repercussions far beyond human comprehension. His silence dragged on, his footsteps light on the path. His concern was just with traveling, if he had any concern at all. He was free, and no one could stop him from being that. He hummed a soft song peacefully to himself as he walked, the mountains growing closer. They were still a ways off, but still, he was headed in the right direction.
Hoof beats and a few incoherent shouts later, highwaymen, the bandits of the lowlands, surrounded him. The path cut off by the leader with a short sword and the grunts with bows. He stopped in his tracks, remaining still while the circled him. “Now, you can just drop all of your belongings, or my men can turn you into a pincushion. Which would you rather have?” The leader inquired, a sly smirk on his face.
“If I can be blatantly honest with you… neither.” The traveler said as his feet shifted, the earth moving out from underneath the leader’s horse, causing him to almost impale himself on the sword as the horse fell to the ground. The leader, caught of guard, yelled a line of incoherent swears and got up, growling as he swung the sword. “You bugger, you’re an elementalist.” The traveler grinned and the grunts looked between each other, obviously apprehensive of attacking the traveler.
“You’re absolutely correct, I am an elementalist…. But….” The traveler stated simply, holding his hand out as a ball of fire appeared in it. “Not just one.” At that the grunts took off, leaving the leader. “Looks like its just you and me now.” He said as he unsheathed his own short sword, nothing compared to his main weapon. The short sword was only a sidearm.
“Who the bloody hell are you?” The leader asked, sheathing his sword as the horse got up.
The traveler began walking. “Some call me Geist… but my name is Dhako Erhart.” He said calmly before disappearing down the road. No blood had been shed, and yet there was a look of bewilderment and surprise as the highwayman’s quarry walked off with all of his belongings. Much to their surprise, their intended quarry was one of the most skilled elementalists. Dhako, though he seemed about the age of twenty to twenty five, was actually hundreds of years old, one of the original elementalists. His complexion had not changed in hundreds of years, nor had his principle of pacifism. At least not yet.
Dhako was not ready to give up his beliefs nor was he willing to sacrifice his freedom. He was glad to be free, unlike most of those who were bound to their kingdoms, however, he was not that way, and he wasn't going to change in the least bit. Nighttime was setting in already and he noticed the stars coming out. It was absolutely beautiful, but then he remembered what had happened at the beginning, how exiles from Earth-That-Was simply dropped off the convicts on this planet, knowing that they would have to survive in the hostile but earth-like climate. They gave the convicts nothing but ancient tools to work with. Dhako had been one of the lucky ones, watching what he suspected to be just like watching the development of the ancient cro-magnon people of old-Earth. He was going to get off this god-forsaken rock if he had any idea of what was going on out there. But hooo boy was it sure beautiful.
The development of the civilization had been marred. Their environment had affected some people heavilly, giving them intense powers of foresight, or even elemental abilities. Dhako was the unlucky one.... he had been born with both elemental abilities and foresight. As he crested a hill, he saw a small walled city, obviously protecting itself from the native Kyolus, lizard-like creatures much unlike the dragons of the mountains which spat an acid that almost literally melted flesh away from the bone. Dhako was lucky he hadn't run into one yet, for more than one reason. Kyolus ran in packs. Where one was, ten more were at least.
It was then that a massive fireball lit up the night sky, a ship coming out of orbit. It made him think, who could it be, and why would they be landing. The only reason would be convicts going to the high-security prison out in the wastes on the opposite side of the planet. But that did not explain why it was coming down at such a high rate of speed, and on their side of the planet.