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(A chilly, frosting morning. Through the gloom, three people are just visible. The seem to be bent on a mission.) N.1: (whispering loudly) Stop it you duphis! You're poking me with your spear! N.2: (penitently) I'm sorry. N.3: (authoritatively( Hush it up! We're getting close! (A loud crash, followed by an obnoxiously loud "Moooooo...") N.3: So much for secrecy! Get them! N.2: (in a low tone to N.1) Here we are, miles away from the nearest house and he's worried about a few twigs breaking! I never could understand him. N.1: (picking himself up and brushing dead leaves off his tunic) That makes two of us! N.3: You! To the left. You take the right. Keep them together. I'll head them. N.2: (slapping the back end of a cow with the flat of his spear) Now this is my kind of job! N.1: No way, Mr. Cow, you're coming over here! N.3: Cows are female. N.1: Nu-uh. This one's male, I'm sure. Just look at him try to ram that bush down... oh, no, you porker, stay on track now! N.3: You don't get it. All cows are female. N.2: What? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. How you gonna get a baby cow if they're all female? N.3: (exasperated) Because there are bulls, of course! N.1: Bulls? Those crazy old things you can't come within a mile of? Now if there's anything all female, that's it. (reflectively) You know the saying, there's nothing more angry than a woman scorned - or somethin'. Now, a bull just screams that to me. N.2: Yep! N.3: You two are a bunch of... N.2: (interrupting) Don't want to know what we are, but anyone else feel like a gang of robbers? N.3: (gravely) It's not robbing if you pay for it. (N.3 tosses some coins onto the ground they had just left) N.1: (to N.2) You were right. Never can understand him! C&C welcome! Numbers 1, 2, and 3 are making inroads in F13, Desert King territory.

Nestled in the ancient mystic sites the citizens of Historica readied for battle against the evil wizard Victor Revolword. Weapons were sharpened, armies amassed, battle plans scrawled out on parchment and ancient spells were practiced across the lands. Everyone was on the edge of their seat and nervous energy hung thick in the air. No one knew if they could really defeat Revolword, he was already very powerful and had overtaken their lands with ease with the aid of his elementals. As the weeks wore on, the unease in the camps never lifted but the citizens battle cries grew louder and louder. The time had come to march upon Revolword and take back the lands and freedoms that he had stolen from them. But that time never came. Late one cool summer night, the scouts came back with a very strange report. No elementals were seen roaming the dunes of the desert; none were seen flying though the skies, in fact there seemed to be none anywhere. It was like they just disappeared back into the earth from where they came. Reports trickled in that Revolword had left Cerdica to amass even more powerful trophies and trinkets from the different lands. He had already pillaged the cities of Avalonia and Mitgardia and the scouts reported he was headed to the capitol of Siccus Badlands, Petraea. The remaining soldiers of Petraea decided the best course of action was to send a small group into the capital city and see what information they could find. Was this just a trick of Victor to draw the armies out their safe areas and then destroy them? Sneaking back into the city was an easy task, no living soul was around. No guards, no elementals, just barren streets and the occasional screech of a black bird. The finally found him, the all powerful Victor Revolword, face down in darkening pool of his own blood. It covered the tiles of the royal palace and filled the air with a sickening smell of decay and evil. The only clue left behind to what happened to Victor were a few seemingly innocent feathers… perhaps they fell from Revolword’s hat in the ensuing scuffle. One thing was for sure, Victor was dead and not coming back. The body he left in this world was unceremoniously dumped in an unmarked grave and quickly forgotten about. Citizens rejoiced in all the lands, threw celebrations, congratulated the brave and quickly started to rebuild their lives. In the coming weeks the cities and towns slowly began to show signs of life again as everyone slowly made their way out of the remote sites they fled too. Questions were whispered in the streets and taverns that sprang up in the newly rebuilt towns. What happened to the elemental helm? Who killed Victor? Are they a friend or more powerful foe? No one knew the answers of course, but they all knew that one day the truth would be told. Meanwhile…. somewhere in Historica a gravely cackle echoed where no one could hear. “My pretty bird, have you recovered from what that nasty little man did to you? I can’t bear to see my precious little birds being hurt. What a stupid old man, thinking he could take over the world all by himself and leave nothing for anyone else. We showed him…didn’t we…” The end... for now... Thanks for reading everyone, this was quite a fun challenge!

Ok, so here is my challenge entry: "Let me pass, let me pass, I have an important letter for Uridius Dratiphe!" Looking up from his work, Uridius saw a middle aged messenger, apparently from Valholl, detained by a few of his retainers. "Let him come," he said. "Sir," said the messenger, "I have this letter from Elon Chorian. He ordered me to deliver it with all speed." Uridius eyed him questioningly. Having cut open the seal, he read: Elon Chorian, to Uridius Dratiphe, Royal Architect and soldier of Mitgardia, April 5th Today I have received news of the taking of Cedrica by Victor. The time has come. We must act quickly to prevent his marching on Valholl. Bring any number of soldiers you can and meet me at Cedrica's lake on the Adeler River. We must take on Victor in his den. Sincerely yours, Elon Chorian Scribbling a short reply, Uridius quickly finished his work. Only a few days later, his entire contingent, swelled by his brother and his retainers as well, marched to the banks of the Adeler, eager to assist in recapturing Cedrica and dethroning Victor. The fate of Historica was in the balance. The night was pitch dark as the army encamped in front of Cedrica, whose impregnable towers stared down at them mockingly. With it's gigantic walls, under which flowed the waters of the Adeler, it seemed as though the city could hold out for years. As the morning dawned, other Mitgardian armies came into view, among which Steen Larsson's and Glorfindel's stood out conspicuously. That evening, the army commanders joined to decide what the next step should be. Uridius' brother, although usually pessimistic, was a cunning planner, and suggested a strategy that might work. And so for days the army labored, always in the strictest secrecy, digging a vast trench, designed to change the river's course and, if all went well, enter into Cedrica under the very noses of the guards! Finally the time came. The night was moonless, the army stood ready as the last barrier was cut, and the river, long pent up in its course into Cedrica began to empty as it flowed into the lake the army had dug. Under cover of darkness they marched quietly under the walls, taking the hand by surprise, as they flowed into Cedrica. Quickly taking a portion of the men, Uridius Dratiphe and his brother marched in silence to Victor's banquet hall, where he was known to be holding a feast with his most trusted commanders. Crash! Crash! And yet again, Crash! The sound of breaking glass filled the room as Victor and his accomplices sprang up in alarm. Through the windows and doors Uridius' soldiers came pouring in, quickly overwhelming Victor's few guards. Kaïn, who had been present at the banquet, engaged Uridius by throwing all kinds of food at him, but the Mitgardians did not slow down! Victor, seeing that the day was against him, raised his staff to call more troops, or perhaps an elemental - no one really knows, because before he could do more, a dark cloaked figure slid up, plunging a dagger into his back. Whether the assassin was one of Victor's guests or not has not been discovered, however, availing himself of the momentary confusion, Kaïn slipped out, and escaped the city. Nonetheless, Cedrica has been taken, and the threat of the hand of corruption was gone! Historica was free! If possible (could ZC or someone help me on this point) I would like to edit this topic tommorrow to add more pics and possibly change the story a little bit. However, if it is not possible,it does not matter to much. Anyways, I loved building for this challenge! More pics at my photostream: http://www.flickr.co...tos/robert4168/ C&C are welcome as always.

There was a small village, near by the Clan of the Great Elk called Findolfia. Most people living in the north accumulated a fortune by rearing moose or deer; Even the monk Brother Steven crossed sucessful those two animals and created the "Doose". The special thing about this doose was, that it got much thicker than a normal moose. So this was the main and only business that happened in this small farmer village. It was a peaceful place, there wasn't a war for hundreds of centuries, because most rulers weren't interested in this cold region. The sun rose up, a new day began. Today was the 30th of April. Sven was tired. Althought that, he had to get up to feed his doose. First he made himself a big breakfast, then he cleaned the barn and fed the doose. He just went home and saw his neighbor Thorvald smooching with his wife. Thorvald was fed up with the boring life in the north, he prepared to leave with his family and to go somewhere else in the south, so he often went somewhere looking for a nice place to take up residence, just as today. His son came back from school: "Daddy! I got a perfect score in my essay about zombies in medieval times. Now I can go to the Peritrea University!" Suddenly some cruel creatures appeared. They were fully armored and they tried to kill his son. He run against them and tried to stop them. One soldier already stroke out, but Thorvald threw himself between the blade and the young boy who should have a long life. "Fly, you Fools!", were his last words. His son didn't really got what happened, but he knew that he now had to run for his life. Daddy laid there on the ground in a puddle of blood, but at least his son and wife managed to escape... at least he thought that. Those cruel creatures were nothing else but the Hand of corruption! By command of Victor they should plunder all villages around there and kill all children. But back to the villagers: All but Thorvald could escape and hide behind a house. What should they do next? Son: "Mum, Mum! Are you here? Have you seen them? They are some kind of zombies and they have weapons..." He didn't got that his dad just spent his life for him, so he kept talking: "You know, I just wrote an essay about zombies? I think I now have to adjust that they can use weapons to kill people. I alsways thought they just walk to them and bite them in the neck and then, the bitten ones also become zombies until there are no other people left than zombies..." Leif: "Now I'm gonna kill these monsters! They killed my best friend, so I kill them! All of them!" Sven: "No! If you leave now, they will know where we hide us and then we're all dead. They are more than 10 and we are just three farmers, a woman and a half men. There's no chance to win a fight against them! We have to work out a plan..." Then something, which was even less expected than the attack, happened. Four travelers came there, who were known for killing bad guys (see The Legend Begins...). Meldun: "I had a vision that you're in need of our help, so we came here". Why are you hiding behind the house, we had to look for you longer than a half hour, althought there are only about 20 houses in this village?" Sven: "We got attacked by some creatures, they killed a friend of us and now we make a plan on how to strike back." Erik: "Who are they?" Do they serve the Jarl?" If yes, show me them and I kill every single one..." Ragnar: "What's that now again with the Jarl? Didn't we already have this discussion and I proved you that the Jarl is a good man?" Sven: "They definately aren't humans, so they also don't serve the Jarl... Will you still kill them all?" Meldun: "What else do you know? Who is their leader? Where came them from?" Sven: "That all went very fast, they somehow sneaked to our village and hit us fast and hard. They tried to kill Thorvalds son, but he spent his life for him, so that he could escape. We don't know anything about them." Son: "Yeah, that's right! They were zombies! Have you ever seen zombies? Isn't that cool?" Meldun: "Ok... first, we need some paper. Do you have something in your satchel to write? Son: "One moment, let me see... I have a sand green undefinable book, but I can't read that language. It must be something they speak overseas... ...then playing cards... ...even more playing cards. You know, in school in often gets boring so we somehow have to entertain ourselfes. Here's something. What do you want to write?" Meldun: "You write, not I. The only thing I do is saying what you write: Dear Jarl The village Findolfia is attacked by some creatures who try to kill all children. Please send us all support troops to free this village. Sincerely Meldun Now put this seal on the letter. ... Do you have any corbies here who can carry this letter to the Jarl?" Mother: "Sadly, no. But we have a snow owl. I don't know if she can do that, but she's a pretty smart and strong one." Meldun: "It's worth a try." In the meantime the hand was considering what to do next. Leader: "Victor said, we should kill all children and take the adults as slaves, so lets do that. You three, look in this house, you three in the other and the rest stays with me." Soldier: "Hhmmm, have you seen the apple pie there? I'm really hungry and have an enormous appetite." Leader: "I heard that! Nobody touches the apple pie. It could be poisoned and we all would die." Thinks: When they sleep I eat the whole pie alone... While they stood around there, the villagers and the four travelers started with a conter attack. For Thorvald! It was a fast attack and a short fight... Ragnar: "2" Erik: "That's good. That's very good. Especially considering that you once served the Jarl, I really didn't expect that... nearly as good as a real warrior but it's still not enough good to beat a berserk. I have 3." Ragnar: "One day I'll be faster with my swort than you with your axe and then I'll beat you! But for now, let's ask the remaining one, maybe he knows something useful..." Ragnar: "So you have a small chance to survive... just answer my questions honestly! So, who is your leader?" Soldier of the hand: "Kill me, like all others. I won't tell you anything!" Ragnar: "Seems like there's only one way..." He cuts very slightly in the Soldiers right leg. Soldier: "Ok! Ok! I'll tell you everything, but please don't hurt me! Our leader is Victor, his aim is to reign over the whole land, starting with Mitgardia. His capital city will be Valholl, from where he will claim every piece of land. You have no chance to stop him, he's a sorcerer!" Meldun: "So am I!" Soldier: "But you have no idea how to use dark magic, but Victor knows." Ragnar: "Where is he at the moment?" Soldier: "I will tell you, but there won't be a use... you die before! He's located in Cedrica, somewhere in the south..." Ragnar: "Funny guy! Of course it's in the south, because we're near the northern coast of Historica... What else do you know? Give me a reason to not kill you!" Soldier: "I don't know anything else!" Ragnar: "So thank you for these informations. If you can't tell us something else, maybe a little bit more interesting than Victor is somewhere in the south, we don't need you anymore... you have to know, I'm also a human. I won't kill someone after he helped me, but you have to be an exeptional case..." Then Meldun hears a low noise of clanging swords and armors... Mitgardian Leader: "What? Are we already too late for the battle?" Mitgardian Soldier: "It's always the same with you! Just because you don't know how to read a map." Leader: "So let's turn and go straight way back home!" Ragnar: "Not that fast, please. We heard about Viktor, an ennemy of us who stays in Cedrica at the moment. Can you tell me more about it?" Leader: "Viktor! People rumor that he's the one who killed the Jarl." Erik: "The Jarl is dead?" Ragnar: "That can't be... why didn't I get informed? So let's go and kill this bastard! Ahmm, could I please get your map, then we might be a little bit faster." Leader: "Here is it, but I can't find Cedrica. Where is this exactly?" Ragnar: "In the south." Leader: "That's all we know?" Ragnar: "Yes, this poor soldier sadly didn't know more so I killed him." Meldun: "I know a way how to find Cedrica, get there fast and pass the high walls... with these few men we won't be able to get in Cedrica and kill Viktor. But with the help of a dragon... (2 days later) Ragnar: "YEEHAW!" Elsa: "Pay attention that you don't fall down, ok?" Ragnar: "You own me ten marks... I knew that it would be easy for Meldun to tame this dragon." Elsa: "Yeah, it seems like I underestimated my father a little bit..." Erik (shouts from the ground): "Get in there and don't talk that much!" After Ragnar and Elsa got on the wall... Elsa: "Look, here's a chain, next to the barrel. We can use it to get Erik and Meldun in the City... It looks like Erik isn't able to break the gate... so you have to give me my ten marks back." Ragnar: "Ok, let's pull them up!" Erik: "Oh man, that took ages until you got us up here." Meldun: "It's ok, we're still in time. But next time please hurry a little bit more and Elsa, stop flirting with Ragnar while we're attacking a city." Elsa: "Stop saying me what I have to do, father! So get down on the other side of the wall." Erik: "These are mine! Die!!!" Meldun: "If you would kill with a little bit less enthusiasm that would be very kind." Erik: "What the heck is going on with you? Did you got up on the wrong side of the bed?" Meldun: "I'm just not too happy... but I can't explain why. It was to easy to get in the city, this might be a trap." Elsa: "Come over here, I think I found something!" Ragnar: "What? This is a usual fountain... what's wrong with it?" Elsa: "It looks suspicious similar if not exactly the same to the one we saw in Findolfia. Do you remeber it? There's only one way to find out!" Meldun: "So what now?" Ragnar: "Metamorph us in a duck, then we dive in the fountain and after a minute you turn us back." Elsa: "I go first!" Meldun: "I'll have to stay here. So you have to kill Viktor by yourself." Erik: "But why don't you come with us?" Meldun: "If I turn myself in a duck, how should I turn myself then back, without being able to hold my staff?" Elsa: "So let's start." (not scored build) When they came back to Meldun, Elsa told him: "Under the fountain, there was a hidden cave with a camp in it. There was some magic stuff laying around, so we can be sure that it was one of Viktor's. But he or none of his men weren't there anymore... maybe he could forecast it." Ragnar: "I think the wisest thing would be to head back to Findolfia and get there in the fountain. Also, this all explains how he could do such a fast strike without we haven't seen him before." Erik: "Finally, I already missed all the mountains and the snow. I even missed the trolls!" After a long march back to there where they came from... Findolfia Ragnar: "Yep. This fountain looks exactly the same." Elsa: "I go first!" Ragnar: "Wait Elsa! I don't want that something happens to you, Viktor is a sorcerer, not a simple troll." Elsa: "Forget it, I go first." Elsa whispers: "Viktor's here!" Ragnar: "So we're both in, but I want to wait for Erik." Guard: "Ehm, Viktor... What are ducks doing in here? Isn't it way to cold in Mitgardia for ducks?" Viktor: "Ducks?" Guard: "Yes there are ducks, mylord." Viktor: "Kill them." *Plop* *Plop* The guard fell to the ground... with an arrow in his belly. Ragnar: "Viktor, you're arrested!" Viktor: "You fools won't be able to catch me!" *Plop* Erik, whispers to Elsa: "This guy looks like the Jarl. Are you sure that this is Viktor, because for me this looks more like the Jarl. Everything is just as I remember, the white beard, the black suit and I even remember that he always held his stuff. The only thing that unsettles me is this weird hat with the feather in it. I've never seen the Jarl wearing such one before." Elsa: "Yes, that's definitely the Jarl." Erik: "I kill this bastard." He starts running... The End

Challenge VI: A Song of Orcs and Fire Chapter I. Along the Arkbri River The Arkbri River flows through central Historica, from Mitgardia all the way down to Barqa in Kaliphlin. It is navigable along most of its course which makes it an important trade route. Despite the war, the traffic is lively along the river. A war party led by Sir Gideon and the avalonian Sir Derrik of Groenby is rushing to Queenscross further upstream. Sir Derrik and his men are survivors of the terrible sacking of Groenby by the Hand of Corruption. Some brave traders are still transporting their goods along the river. This particular river boat is loaded with food supplies for the army gathering in Queenscross, as some Barqa trader obvious has seen an excellent business opportunity to sell food at ridiculous prices as the destruction had left the city with precious little food to supply the forces making their stand against Victor's forces. Responding to the call to arms to Queenscross, Sir Gideon and his band of warriors are travelling up from Barqa along the towpath on the north side of the Arkbri river. It is however not safe to travel these days, as there have been encounters with orcs on this side of the river. Several of Sir Derrik’s men were killed by a raiding party, as well as the horse of Gideon’s squire. Fortunately nothing seems to dampen the spirit of this young lad, eager to earn glory on the battlefield. Meanwhile, refugees from the death and destruction further upstream are struggling in the heat in the opposite direction, not really towards anything but just desperately getting away from the slaughter. Right now they have been forced to take a break to let the oxen pulling the boat and the soldiers pass. Chapter II. After the Battle of Queenscross Many of those marching to Queenscross with Sir Gideon would later fall in the battle there, as told in the report of the battle by Paulos MacLean. Among the casualties were Gideon's old friend and comrade-in-arms Sir Derrik of Groenby and Sir Gideon’s squire, too brave for his own good. A few of those who have responded to the call to arms however showed up in Queenscross too late to join the battle. Surprisingly, some turned out to be acquaintances of Gideon. One of these is the scoundrel and former sailor Roger Farstrider, who had been expected to arrive with Gideon but somehow found himself delayed by some unclear reason, sounds like he found yet another excuse to save his skin when the odds looked bleak. But of course he wasn't more delayed than that he arrived in time to take part in some unsanctioned plunder of the fallen foes. Many are angry at him for avoiding the battle, where Roger’s deadly crossbow skills would have been sorely needed at times. At the side of a war-torn garden patch he is now doing what he likes best, taking a break from things and sharpening his enormous dagger. Not far after Roger, another man arrived along the same road. This was Lutalo, a dark and muscular proud warrior from one of the islands in the southern sea. Of some kind of noble birth after their fashion, he was exiled from his island many years ago never to return. He found refuge in the tolerant Kaliphlin society, and has fought for Gideon on more than one occasion. Arriving soaked in sweat after running for many miles, he is cursing long and loudly in his incomprehensible tongue for not making it in time to the glorious battle. On a street in the war-torn city, Gideon is bleeding from a dozen wounds and still shivering from nearly drowning when he fell into the river during the battle. The only thing that was between Gideon and certain death had been one of the mermaids aiding in the fight against the Hand of Corruption. Gideon is mourning the losses of both his old friend and his young protégé at the hands of the Cyclops. Suddenly an unexpected figure shows up. A female battlemage of the Khel'Zarim, truly a rare sight. Clad in crimson and with a grim looking and scarred face, there is however something familiar with this hard woman. Gideon (in pain and annoyed by the disturbance): What do you want? Wait...do I know you? There is something familiar about you? Battlemage: Gideon the half-elf isn't it? I'm Aidana, and the last time you saw me I was a young girl in the company of Sohail, father of that dishonest merchant Emad who I know you still have dealings with. Gideon: Look at you! Now I remember, but you certainly don't look like when we last met all those years ago! Aidana: I've seen more of the world, and know much of mysteries you haven't even heard about. And it's not only you steel-warriors who have to go through fighting and hardship. Gideon: Certainly not! Your order's reputation precedes you. But what brings you here? Aidana: As you can see, I was recruited by the Khel'Zarim who recognized my talent for more than just the small tricks I did to amuse Soheil's guests. They brought me to their seat at castle Zar, deep inside the jagged foothills of the Rakath Mountains, where the base of the Khel'Zarim have been for centuries. From there, we have strived to expand our knowledge of magic and also control and restrict its use throughout Historica. My wing of the Khel'Zarim is as you know called the battlemagi and our role has been to be the sword and shield of the order. Our goal is to seek out rogue wizards and other magical anomalies, wherever they may be. We do this both for the protection of Historica and for our own interest, since there is so much to learn of the mysteries of magic that the inward-looking graybeard scholars in the towers of Zar simply can't even imagine. The battlemagi’s main weapon has been elemental magic, but proficiency with cold steel is also an important part of our training. Most of our order, including myself, have focused our studies on fire magic. Indeed, some even claim that our order is a cult of fire, and if you have ever seen the eternal fire pits and stained glass windows in the great hall of castle Zar you can't be blamed for thinking that of us. Never numerous, the hard fight against the elementals throughout Historica has spread the Khel'Zarim battlemagi forces thin and caused heavy casualties among our ranks. Our castle was of course one of the primary targets of Victor's elemental mayhem, and countless elementals of all kinds put us under relentless attack. In order to defend the castle, the few of us who remained there had to resort to an extreme measure. We gathered the last of our strength and thanks to our deep understanding of elemental magic, we succeeded in creating an expanding anti-magic field around our castle which instantly dissipated the elementals just before they breached our castle walls. So far, the story sounds like a story of success to you, doesn't it? Gideon: Yes, but you don't seem to be too happy about it? Aidana: Indeed not. Now on to the dire news. Unfortunately, the anti-magic field also left us powerless and our spells useless. Only the eternal fire pits in the great hall, fuelled with deeper and more ancient magic, were spared the dimming of our magical power. Before the field had dissipated, we heard increasingly loud scratching noises which seemed to come from one of the walls. Suddenly holes started to appear in the courtyard at the base of the wall and out of the ground orcs started to emerge. Victor's plan had clearly been more cunning than we had expected, while we were busy fighting monstrous elementals a force of orcs had snuck in right under our noses and undisturbed dug their way in. My brethren fought valiantly, but many of the outnumbered and powerless battlemagi were slain by the invaders before we took the hard decision to abandon our castle. This leads me to where we are now. After the fall of Zar, me and my remaining brethren decided to split up and seek out the places where our skills were most needed. Hearing about the threat to Queenscross, I rushed here but didn't arrive in time. Fortunately, it seems that no sizeable elemental force were part of the enemy armies here so you and all the other brave warriors managed to hold here anyway. Gideon: Yes, but at a terrible cost. But you seem to have more to tell me? Aidana: Yes. Seeing that the enemy has been thwarted here, I am trying to gather a force to take back castle Zar. I know that you don't have many men left after the battle, but could I hope for your help in this endeavor? Gideon: Pah! As if a small band like us would be able to take a castle like that all by ourselves! Aidana: Yes. If the castle is poorly manned and you know how to get in without notice. After sacking much of the castle I saw most of the restless orcs continue on to new opportunities of plunder. Gideon: Aha! Now your plan suddenly sounds less unrealistic. But why the urgency? Shouldn't there be other more pressing matters for our steel and your fire, like taking back Cedrica or even going after those cursed Cyclops?! Aidana: There is surely much to be done, but I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to reclaim our castle without delay. I have reason to believe that the orcs haven't been able to enter all the hidden and protected parts of the castle yet, so much of our secrets may still be safe. And there might even be survivors hiding in these hidden parts of the castle. The archmage himself is still unaccounted for, and who knows the secrets of the castle better than him? Maybe he still is alive somewhere in there. But if Victor were to get there before us, he surely will find our secrets and kill our survivors and by that cause irreparable damage to our order. Gideon: Alright, once again I see that you have given this more thought than me.Aidana: Yes I have. So are you with me?Gideon: Gladly, but look at me. I'm not in any shape to kill more orcs anytime soon.Aidana: I agree, your wounds don't look very good! Let me do something about them. Gideon: Pah! As if magic could do me any good! And besides, don't you know that we elves are quite resistant to your kind of magic? Aidana: Don't presume to teach me about magic! And by the color of your skin you look just as much human as your pointy ears give away your elvish blood. Seeing how you still are alive after all these wounds I think you even must have some of the old blood of the northmen in you. She gives Gideon a small vial of a dark liquid, which he reluctantly empties. Gideon: Aaaah! It burns!! Aidana: Good. Then you aren't as immune to elemental magic as you thought and the potion is doing what it should. Look, the blood flow from that badly dressed wound is already stopping. And the shiver from the cold after your little swim in the river seems to have stopped? In a day or two you should be back in fighting shape. Chapter III: Through the Rakath Foothills And so it was that Gideon set out with a ragtag force towards the east, Aidana leading their way. Behind them were Lutalo (seeing the opportunity of finding glory in the coming battle) and Roger Farstrider (seeing the opportunity for gold in the coming battle). Another man with the same motive was Ediz Falconi, who also had been persuaded to join with some reinforcements from their nearby base at Falcon’s Nest. After a long travel on uneven roads up into the jagged foothills of the Rakath Mountains, the travellers pass over a ridge and finally see a great castle on the next mountain. Aidana: Behold, beautiful Zar! Now we are finally almost there, but we should await the darkness before trying to approach the castle. Gideon: Alright, but we are not trying to get through that main gate I hope? Aidana (chuckling): No, indeed not! To those who know the castle, there are innumerable hidden passageways. And some of them reach the outside of the castle as well. Roger Farstrider (catching up with the others): Sounds good! Hidden ways are always better than fighting. Ediz Falconi: Looks like a big castle, I assume our reward if we succeed will be accordingly? Aidana: Don’t you worry about that, if we take back the castle I will make sure that you are a rich man. Ediz: Sounds like my kind of battle! Lutalo: I yearn for a good glorious battle! It has been too long since I last had the chance to cleave an orc with my sword. Aidana (with a smile): Looks like you all can get what you are looking for. Now let’s rest a few hours and then get on to business. Chapter IV: Battle in the hall of the Khel'Zarim Aidana leads the party to a small crevace at the base of the mountain, and behind some rocks there is a smooth surface. She mumbles some arcane words and her staff starts to glow, and in response a fiery line spreads along the wall to form a doorway. With a low rumbling the door swings inwards and inside the opening a long narrow winding stair ascends into the mountain. Climbing for hours, the party finally reaches the castle. Most of the castle seems desolate and on the surface looks completely pillaged, with the decaying bodies of both magi and orcs still dot the courtyard. Some corpses clearly show signs of being eaten on, by orc or animal is hard to tell. From the great hall there is however some noise to be heard, and Aidana quickly leads the party in through the broken front door. Inside, a horrible scene unfolds. Dead bodies, skulls and bones surround the great marble council table where the band of remaining orcs apparently have taken up residence. Aidana, who has held a quiet determination throughout the infiltration of the castle loses her composure and screams: "Sacrilege! They are using one of the eternal fires for cooking! And it looks as they are cooking a human! This must end NOW!!" Surprised by the screaming, the orcs scramble for their weapons and prepare to attack the intruders who are quickly moving towards the orcs. A big orc in black armor with skeletal ornamentations, clearly the chieftain, stands outside the back door to the archmage's private palace and screams orders to his band. The battle begins when Gideon engages one of the orcs at the front along the wall, while Lutalo quickly jumps up on the council table to attack the orcs who are standing there. Roger Farstrider and one of Falconi's men take up their crossbows to eliminate the enemies with ranged weapons. The first casualties are one of the orc archers downed by one of Roger's bolts, the crossbow armed orc by the chieftain hit by the Falcon crossbowman. The enraged and still confused orc attacking Gideon exposes himself and falls to a quick strike from the half-elf. Falconi's men on both sides of the great table engage the foes, while Lutalo finally gets to taste blood on the tabletop. As more orcs are put out of action, the first casualty among the humans is the Falcon crossbowman who is hit by arrows from both remaining orcs with bows. On the right flank, the Falcons are quickly progressing through the still confused orcs while Gideon is circling around one of the fire pits. Roger Farstrider reloads his customized crossbow with lightning speed and takes aim at the ranged foe at the balcony. As another of the Falcons are mortally wounded, Aidana lands a hit with one of her fireballs knocking one of the orcs down engulfing it in searing flames. Falconi's closest man finishes off the orc he previously wounded. The battle clearly has turned in the favor of the humans, as Gideon and Ediz downs the last orcs by the firepits. Soon thereafter, a well-aimed crossbow bolt takes down the last orcish archer. All the humans, and the half-elf, advance towards the orcish chieftain who so far only with increasing desperation has tried to scream orders to his dwindling numbers. Before anyone, or even one of Roger's bolts, reaches the orc chieftain Aidana screams: He is mine! Now feel the fury of the Khel'Zarim!! A stream of fire arcs out of her staff and bright flames erupt around the big orc. The battle is over. Falconi tends to his wounded crossbowman and one of his men are finishing off the last surviving wounded orcs. Meanwhile, Gideon and Aidana enter the palace of the archmage. After some searching and calling out for survivors, a tile in the floor starts to move, exposing a stair. A dirty but well dressed grey-bearded man emerges from the opening calling out: Aidana! You did it!. Aidana: Archmagus, did you truly doubt that we would come back? Archmage: Yes, as the anti-magic field dissipated I thought that the battlemagi would retake the castle but as time went on and the only sounds I heard was from the orcs looking for treasure in my palace. Finally I was almost ready to do a final desperate attempt myself, but even with my powers I knew that it would likely have been my end. So I decided to remain here to destroy our secret archives if Victor came back. Aidana: I'm glad you didn't have to destroy the archives, imagine the loss to the world if the Flame had been let in there! Archmage: Yes my daughter, but I would let the Flame have them a thousand times rather than Victor laying his hands on them. Who knows what dark magic we have quelled over the centuries that Victor could use to terrible effect? Aidana: Of course, Archmagus. Archmage: We are still not safe here if Victor would turn his full attention here, but let us hope that other forces of good are victorious and that maybe as we speak even Victor himself has been defeated?And so it was that the Khel'Zarim once again ruled over their great castle, and the great hall was quickly restored to its proper state. And who knows, maybe the archmage is right that in the same moment, someone is fighting Victor himself...?

Return of a Kingdom (Complete) Sand, sand, sand. As far as the eye could see. Who would live here - and why? The bleak and barren desert seemed uninviting in the extreme. "Caw, caw!" screamed a lonely vulture, flying high above the dusty plain. From his bird's eye view there was perhaps more to see. Yes, indeed; far to the southward, a small oasis - and - wonder of wonders - a group of people, going about their daily life. We will go where the bird could not; into the largest hut, hastily built, but looking as though it must have been the main house of the camp. "We have waited too long already! Far, far too long!" "And what," the second knight paused for effect, "what if the right man is not here?" His companion scoffed, "Do you really believe that? I say the sooner we go in, the sooner we leave here, the sooner we face Victor! Why are we just standing here? He is in Cedrica already; we are safe here perhaps, but will we hide here forever?" "Gadilitus is right," sighed a third knight, "we cannot remain here much longer. The time to battle Victor is ripe!" "We go in tonight," Gadilitus said, in a calmer voice. "We cannot afford more delays." "You spoke truly," sighed the second knight to Archtip, his companion, as they left the hut in which they had been consulting, "You spoke truly - what we need is a leader." Archtip nodded, his eyes on Gadilitus. Perhaps, after all, he was the one. *** Sand, sand, sand. As far as the eye could see. No, down there, in the valley! Ageven and his companion, Kaflar, eager to be finally at their journey's end, hastened down the sand dune, blinking their eyes in the bright glare of the afternoon sun. "It is deserted." Ageven sounded like he could not believe it. "No, that is not possible! Look, they have left all here." He shook his head. Kaflar and he stood on the edge of the camp, surveying the scene. Dishes and tents, a few small huts, pack animals - all of life's necessities were here - where were the people? Kaflar, who had not been to the site of the Red Ruby before, was more taken up with the beautiful building before them. "Well," Ageven said, with a slight simile at his companion, "I have been here before, you know. It is the Temple of the Red Ruby - here, I have found this scroll." In silence Kaflar read: Long, long ago, before Kaligem, the one time capitol of Kaliphlin, was destroyed, a wise and wealthy group of dwarfs, foreseeing the devastation that was to come upon their city, created a chalice of pure gold, that would hold the red ruby, the legendary crystal that led the founders of the city of Kaligem to the location it then had. They built a temple for it, hidden deep in the great escarpment, where the crystal would not be found before the time was ripe, when the wisest man, apart from the leader of Kaliphlin, would find it and, with it, would re-establish Kaligem as a powerful city once more. And to protect this man from his enemies, they created a helmet of protection, that would, it is said, keep him from any harm. When he was done, Kaflar asked, "Do you believe it?" Ageven shrugged. "What do I know? We might as well go in though. I was hoping the settlers here would give us their help..." Kaflar froze suddenly. "What is it?" "Listen - what is that?" "I hear nothing." "I must have been imagining it, then. Shall we go in?" They both climbed up the rickety ladder, eager now, but silent. Inside, in a chalice of pure gold, lay the ruby, surrounded by a mass of shimmering yellow. Kaflar stepped forward, but hesitated suddenly. "Go ahead," Ageven motioned. "But wait. The helmet first. That ought to let you know whether or not to take the ruby." He pointed out a helmet, farther in. Kaflar nodded. He advanced slowly. It fit. But as he stepped to the side there was a sudden snapping sound and he glanced around apprehensively. With a sudden swing a trapdoor opened in front of him, revealing a glittering chamber below. Both Kaflar and Ageven glanced at each other, then they bent over, peering inside. A sudden scream made them jump; but after the moment's initial scare, Ageven exclaimed, "Wait! I recognize the voice." Raising his voice, he shouted, "Who is it? I am Ageven, I have come for..." Gadilitus' voice had a note of relief in it as he shouted back, "Ageven! Is that you! Hurry, let us out!" "But... how come you to be down there?" "It is a long story - lower a ladder down here, I will explain..." *** Kaligem. The city of long, long ago. The city of Kaliphlin's power; the peak of it's rule over the guilds. It had been long gone - so long that no one knew where it had stood, except perhaps the vultures, wandering to and fro in the Parched Lands. Legend told that it had been buried, ages ago, beneath the swirling sand. For days the group from the Camp at the Red Ruby traveled on - the people of Nadur, who had left their home when it had been destroyed by fire, and were now eager to do what they could in the fight against Revolword. They were led by Ageven and Kaflar - who possessed the Ruby that, it was said, would lead them to the site of the old city. Finally, after one week of wandering, they arrived at a spot, more barren then all the rest, where the ruby glowed. Kaflar, uncertain of what to do next, stepped forward hesitantly, It was nearing dusk - the sun, a red hot ball in the sky - would soon be gone, and the people were setting up camp. And suddenly, out of the whirling sand, a golden minaret appeared. Around it, far into the distance, walls took shape; tall, ponderous walls, strong enough to keep out an army. Awed, the people stepped back - the beautiful city that stood before them, indeed, all around them, would be the perfect place to gather the resistance to Revolword. And so it was decided, here - in the heart of Kaliphlin, would be the gathering place for all the Historicans who were willing to fight for freedom! (First Scored Build) (Unscored Build) Nearly three weeks later, a sizable band had gathered at the site of Kaligem. Some had made repairs to the houses and shops, and were now living within the city itself, but others were content merely to pitch there tents around the walls. There were desert mummies from the mountains, elves from the forests of Avalonia, creatures from Nocturnus, warriors from all corners of Historica - brave Mitgardians, nomadic Kaliphlins, bold Avalonians, and even a few adventurous Valaryinas. Raz and Gad returned from their journey in a truly remarkably short amount of time, bringing with them reinforcements that seemed almost innumerable. From all sides soldiers poured in - from far off islands and peninsulas to Historica's many mountains. Exactly one month and a half from Victor's capture of Cedrica, Ageven's forces began to move. Fearing that the sympathies of the city were not in his favor, Victor had removed to an almost impregnable fortress. And so thither marched the army, through the blazing sand, over rocky hills, to the tallest peak in Avalonia, just out of the Wither Woods. And finally, their goal was in sight. After camping for the night, Ageven summoned all the great nobles who were accompanying him. "It is time," he said, "we make preparations for battle in earnest. Undoubtedly the enemy already knows of our presence - their spies are everywhere. We need to elect a general, and I would suggest we choose one leader from each guild in addition. Victor, I have no doubt, will remain fast in his fortress, waiting for us to attack him, confident in the numbers of his forces. But before propounding other plans, I would like to hear who you would suggest as leaders." "May I suggest Lord Vladivus from Nocturnus?" quired Dr. Rod. "An excellent choice," muttered several members, and Ageven nodded his assent. "I am sure Steen Larsson would be a perfect man for the job of leader," added Sir Glorfindel. "Good, I am in agreement. Would the two of you be willing?" Both men assented, and Ageven continued, "Then I would suggest we choose one from Avalonia and one from Kaliphlin, and those four will work together. I do not think there are many Valaryian nobles here, else I would include them. Does anyone have more suggestions?" "Who but Zakon GoldBlade?" the Lord of Gelvim threw in, admist a slight titer from the assembly. Zakon smiled. "I would be honored, if the rest of the council would still feel safe despite my presence." This was followed by shouts of laugher - though Steen Larsson did find it expedient to bring a trusted guard to the council later that night. "It is only right that the representative from Kaliphlin would be yourself, Ageven," spoke up Uridius Dratiphe - who, now that he had no chance at the spot himself, could afford to be quite liberal. But Ageven disagreed. "No, I am not a warrior. I have been in very few battles, and though I was trained in all the arts of war in my own land, I am not fit for the job. No, Tafik Regex Marmota is the man. All his experience in slave revolts will stand us in good stead now I am sure!" he added with a quiet smile. Gex attempted to remonstrate but to no avail. It was insisted, however, that both Ageven and Kaflar would be present in the council. During the meeting later that night, a battle plan was finally devised. Zakon GoldBlade, whose ambition was rightly pronounced unconquerable, would lead the main bulk of the assaulting forces, while Ageven and a band of fifty picked volunteers would try to see if trickery would avail them anything. (Location of Victor's Fortress) The wind howled among the rocky fastnesses of Victor's Retreat that night, as friend and foe alike strained their eyes to see in the intense darkness. Zakon, with the main bulk of the army right behind him, kept his eyes fixed firmly on the pole star, waiting for the precise moment when he was to strike. Finally the moment of action came. With a fierce grin, quite lost in the dark, he charged forward, leading the united forces of Historica. At first they advanced silently, but when concealment was no longer possible, a shout arose from every throat. Archers of the hand instantly opened fire from the fortress walls, but the army stormed on. Then the ponderous gate opened, and a band sallied forth. At first it seemed like the forces the return of Kaligem had called up from the four corners of Historica were no match for the disciplined soldiers of the hand, for they swept all before them, until Steen Larsson's voice rang out above the fray, "Soldiers of Mitgardia! Fellow Historicans! Hold your ground!" Infused with a new hope, the army of the guilds threw themselves once more on the enemy, driving them back into the castle and leaving many of their number behind. Now it was time to batter down the walls. At Zakon's signal the siege engines rolled up. *** In the darkest corner of the night, careful to keep out of the sight of any of the guards on the wall, crept a small band. At a nod from Ageven two of the most agile scaled the ponderous walls, quickly disappearing in the thick darkness. Minutes crawled by - it seemed like hours - when a rope fell suddenly down right in front of Kaflar's face. "That means it is safe," whispered Ageven. Presently all fifty stood on the ramparts, looking eagerly round, trying to discern where in the castle they might be. "Follow me," Ageven commanded, "I was here once before, on my tour of Historica. If I mistake not, I know where we must go." And so they pressed on until they reached a dark building, against which Ageven ran so suddenly that several of the soldiers nearly fell down. Kaflar turned swiftly, out of the corner of his eye he saw something move; the next instant another of the hand had fallen, and he drew his knife out of the prostrate guard. He had been standing in front of a door, and Ageven opened it cautiously. There were no guards in sight, and he motioned the rest in. Silently, stealthily, they advanced, the torches hanging on the walls giving an eerie and uncertain light to the scene. At a bend in the corridor Ageven stopped to look. It was as he had feared; another soldier stood there, his back to the heavy oak door that lead, Ageven was sure, to Victor's throne room. He stopped, unsure of how to proceed. One of the side doors, he knew, opened next to the king's room, and from there it would be easy to access the guard - but which one? Fortunately they all had small peepholes - Victor trusted no one - and that way it was possible to tell, at least that there were no soldiers behind any of them. Dividing the band in five - one group for each room, he told them to examine each room and, should their room be the one, to wait for the others there. Five minutes later, the guard was dead, and forty men were assembled at Victor's door. Kaflar's band was the one that was missing. Ageven waited for quite a while, as long as he thought prudent, but as time passed on, and as at any minute the forces of the hand outside, if pressed, could take refuge here, he determined to push on regardless. Throwing the door open, he found, much to his surprise, that Kaflar's band was already there - they had entered in through a side door, he found, and were now having to fight for their lives. Immediately Ageven led his men pouring in, and the fight was doubled in its intensity. (Second Scored Build) Up to that time the soldiers of the hand that were guarding Victor - at least presumably he was in the curtained recess at the farthest end of the room - had more than held their own, but seeing forty more men pour in from the front door, with who knew how many more behind, they began quickly to loose heart. Gradually they were pushed back farther and farther, until there was only a small band left, just around Victor's throne - when suddenly, all the forces of the hand vanished, and Kaflar, who had been about to sever his antagonist's head from it's body, found it necessary to quickly pull back his sword lest he cut Ageven's leg off. Those that remained of the band looked about them in great surprise - what kind of magic was this? Then, with a noise that nearly burst their eardrums, the very throne of Victor went up in flames, illuminating the dark night outside and warning the brave warriors to escape as soon as they could! *** Outside, Zakon was watching with impatience the slow progress of the siege machines. He knew that, at least, he was creating an important delay and distraction, but while he was delaying the hand, he might as well as force his way into the castle! With this thought in mind, he maneuvered a group of his troops in such a way as to be ready to spring in the door the moment the enemy made another sally - which was quite likely, for no doubt they would like to set the engines on fire - yet in such a way as to be completely concealed in the dark night. He was right; almost before they had time to settle comfortably in position the great gates opened, and out poured the soldiers of the hand, yelling and screaming horribly. Something must be wrong though - they were no longer the disciplined troops of only minutes ago - flailing their arms wildly, they darted hither and thither. Almost petrified by the bewildering sight the Historicans could do little more than look on with amazement. Suddenly, and without warning, the hand seemed to disappear - in less than a minute the battlefield was clear, and cleared far more effectively than any army could have done. Zakon, bewildered, stepped out into the open, walked up to the castle's gate, even ventured inside. The dawn was beginning, and in the eerie gray light the castle looked deserted - the hawk depicted on the coat of arms above stared down mysteriously, as though there was some secret that he was determined not to let out. "What kind of trick is this?" wondered Zakon aloud. Not a soul was upon the ramparts - the entire army, every last hand of corruption - had simply vanished, leaving not a trace behind. The rocky, barren spot seemed to hold an awful secret - was the feeling of mysterious horror real or imaginary? The seconds seemed to drag by as the army waited, in dreadful suspense, powerless to do anything, for they knew not what to do. In that breathless silence a crash was suddenly heard - so load, and so prolonged, that the very mountain seemed to tremble because of it. Scarce ten seconds later, flames burst out of the roof, and the entire castle was speedily enveloped by the lurid glare- not, however, before Ageven and his band had dashed, breathless and perspiring, from the chambers within. The sun grew bigger and brighter in the sky, but even that great luminous ball of fire could scarce compete with the roaring flames and yellow tongues of fire that reached out from every crevice in the once beautiful structure. Spell bound, the warriors watched as the castle was consumed, one question in there minds - who had done this? Such a fire could scarce have been lit by the hands, much less by themselves - and what purpose could Victor have in the scene of devastation? Gradually, in proportion as the sun rose higher in the sky and the day waxed hotter, the fire burned out, leaving only the charred remains of the edifice. Suddenly, from the very heart of the ruins, a whirlwind arose; that amazing sound - the sound of gushing water - was heard, and the next instant a waterfall lept from rock to rock, down the cliff, carving a path through the sand as though it was endowed with life. Startled, the explorers drew back in consternation, every eye riveted to the spot - and now, along the banks of the new formed river, vegetation began to spring up, green grass, spreading ever farther along the banks. A column of red shot suddenly up, and a cry of wonder was echoed from the crowd, as similar columns rose up from every corner - one out of the midst of the verdure, green as the grass with which it was surrounded - another out of the tornado, clear as ice, sparkling as crystal - and yet a third from the center of the river, blue and vibrant, the color of water. The scene, a minute ago one of deepest desolation - had become beautiful in the extreme. (Third Scored Build) But the cry of astonishment was redoubled when, out of the swirls of color, the four explorers - Owain, Ragnar, Kathryin, and Karzoul - rose up out of the ground, each holding the elemental crystal of their guild. But there was something different now about the crystals - they were no longer the mere sparkling jewels they had been when rescued from the sands, forests, mountains and wastelands of Historica - each was now larger, longer - the new saga of Historica had added to them, leaving an indelible imprint for all time. The onlookers gazed on, spellbound. The barren cliff top was now becoming a lush forest, the center of a clearing around the vibrant waterfall. Then the four explorers stood up, looking around them in admiration. "This chapter of Historica has come to an end," murmured Owain, looking round him in wonder. "Yes," added Kathryin, "but there will be others!" "And we'll be ready when they come!" exclaimed Ragnar. The four explorers raised their crystals and voices, and a echoing cheer came from the crowd - Revolword had been defeated, Historica was saved, but still greater adventures lay ahead! (Unscored Vig) I hope you've enjoyed both the story and the builds, I managed to keep it under 3500 words which is really quite good - for me! C&C are welcome, I'd love to hear what you think about it!

Hi guys! Here's my Challenge VI entry. . Hope you enjoy reading this, cause there's a lot. . It's done now! Mud. And the occasional solemn rock. This is all that remains of the once beautiful fields and streams that surrounded Cedrica. The land itself feels depressed. Depressed, beaten, and abused. This is the land that has been scorched barren by the wrath of Victor. Cedrica. The once powerful guild now appears but a shadow of its former self. The walls are crumbling. It appears as dead as the lands around it. Nothing is seen going in. Only parties of hundreds or thousands of Victor’s soldiers leave. They are war parties. Victor’s forces spread like fire, conquering or corrupting everything in their path. He desires to unite the four guilds under one hand, the Hand of Corruption. The Hand crushes all resistance. The gates of Cedrica stand like indomitable pillars of stone. Hiding all that may, or may not, be inside the walls. The Hand of Corruption mans the many battlements and towers along the city walls. The soldiers stand like statues of warriors long forgotten, unmovable, powerful, relentless. Something is different today. There is a wind in the air. The wind pierces the stale, hot air like a beam of light flying through darkness. It brings hope. And the Hand soldiers hate it. Guard One: Ahh! I hate this wretched wind! Guard Two: Would you shut up already! You’ve been complaining all day! A little breeze won’t hurt you! Guard One: Ha! You fool! This “breeze” has pushed away our clouds! It’s letting the sun burn our skin. Guard Two: Then shut up about the wind and complain about the sun! Guard Three: I wish you would both shut your mouths! Guard One: We can say what we want, when we want! Guard Three: Ha, what I hate is that our brethren are making history, conquering all Historica! And what do we do? Sit here and guard this rotten city that no one likes! Guard One: Ay! They get glory and we sit up here gathering dust! Guard Three: We should demand to be on the next war party! Guard One: Ay! We shou- Guard Two: What’s that! Guard One: What!? Guard Two: That glint! Guard One: Probably just a rock. Like I was saying- Guard Three: That’s no rock! It’s a helmet, and it’s not alone! Quick alert the others, we’re under attack! The guards ran off to alert the city. The battle is about to begin. The battle for Cedrica. The battle for Historica. The battle for Freedom. As the sun shone in the Cedrican sky for the first time in months, hundreds of sets of armor gleamed in the sunlight. A gleam shone in their eyes. It was anger, it was determination, and it was the passion for freedom. As they marched the gleam in their eyes grew and grew. With every step they knew they became one step closer to the black mage. Victor may have built an empire, but in doing so he had made many enemies. These were them. They had been brought together by necessity, and bonded through unwilling brotherhood. These were the citizens of Historica, and they weren’t happy. The soldiers knew they were close. The walls of Cedrica stood only a few short miles away. The city looks forlorn in its deserted state. It looks weak, almost too weak. It’s hard to believe this crumbling city is the headquarters Victor is slowly conquering all of Historica from. The Historicans stare at the walls of Cedrica. Capital of Historica. Victor’s fortress. The last obstacle between them and The Mage. The hour is close. The walls of Cedrica are manned. The gate is closed. The mage is ready. He is ready to crush the last obstacle between him and total domination. He has waited long for this chance. He is ready. A tall figure marches through the plains. He wears a tall crested helmet, covered in intricate gold markings. His brown cloak flaps in the wind behind him. He is Sir Infernum , warrior of Mitgardia. He seeks no fame or riches, only to free his homeland. A green cloaked figure approaches him. He has braided long, brown hair and a scraggly beard that reaches from one of his pointy ears to the other. Starandil: Infernum, is that you? Infernum: Starandil, my old friend! Didn’t expect to find you here! I thought you tree hugging elves would hide in your tall trees until this is all over. Starandil: Ha, ha! Immortality won’t protect you from Hand of Corruption swords, my friend. I figured I might as well get killed here, instead of waiting around to get killed in Avalonia. Infernum: Only too true. I can’t wait to be fighting alongside you again! Starandil: Aye! We’ll teach Victor not to mess with Historicans! The two friends walked off laughing, momentarily forgetting all about their troubles with Revolword. They would be reminded very soon though… End of Chapter One. As the sun rises in the Cedrican skies, mighty cries suddenly filled the air. Cries of the names of all four of the mighty guilds, and rising above them all a roar of “Historica!”. Hundreds of soldiers rushed forward, quickly closing the gap between them and the Cedrican walls. Hand of Corruption soldiers line the walls, standing still as stone. They stare at the attacking Historicans, emotionless. They aren’t fueled by emotion, only their next order. A troop of archers advance from the Historican’s line. “Load!” yells a Hand of Corruption officer. Hundreds of soldiers raise their crossbows. Both sides are now within range of each other. “Fire!” yells the same Hand of Corruption soldier. With a deafening twang hundreds of arrows are let loose by Victor’s troops and dozens of Historicans fall. The first shots have been fired and the first soldiers fallen. The battle has begun. A red cloaked elf leads the troop of archers in front of the gate. He has long blond hair and wields a beautifully crafted bow. He yells out orders, leading his troops. He is the leader of the Avalonian forces at the battle. He is Brillian, powerful elf-lord. Brillian: Shoot now to avenge your fallen cities and brothers! We take back Cedrica now! Historicans: For Historica! Brillian: For Freedom! Brillian: Now! Suddenly the rows of archers parted and two Mitgardians charged through. They held a chain capped by a hook in one hand and a blade in the other. They reached the walls unharmed and threw their hooks onto the top of the wall. They began climbing. Roark: Ha, up the wall we go! This is where all that mountain climbing back home pays off! Rarkth: Well I, as always, reach the top first! (He grunts and pulls himself over the top of the wall, neatly decapitating a Hand soldier in the same motion) Roark: Who said it was a race?! (He climbs over the wall on the opposite side of the gate.) Rarkth: I don’t know about you, but I want to get rid of Revolword as fast as possible! Roark: Aye! When you say it like that it does sound more important! The two finish off the guards and claim the gate! Rarkth: Let’s get this gate open! Roark: Ha, ha, I always wanted to do this! They pull the ropes, raising the heavy portcullis and exposing the Red Doors of Cedrica. Brillian: (To the warriors on the wall) Nice work my Mitgardian friends! (To soldiers) Now let us open this gate and start the real battle! Historicans approach the gates bearing battering rams. They reach the gate only to hear a rattling behind the gate. Suddenly the gate booms open from the inside and a group of Victor’s troops roar forward, led by a giant troll. The first line of the Historicans scream in terror as they are quickly cut down by Victor’s troops. Victor’s army slices through the Historican lines, until two warriors appear. One is a female orc. She bears a great sword and armor the crimson color of blood. Her name is Raktha, warrior from Nocturnus. The other wears grand gold and blue armor, as well as a golden, curved sword. He is Sarnak, leader of the attacking Kaliphlinian forces. The two warriors streak through Victor’s forces, slicing left and right as they go. Victor’s forces find themselves suddenly separated. The Historicans take advantage of the confusion and counter attack. Brillian: Attack and take the gate! Within seconds Victor’s forces are repelled and the gate is won! Brillian approaches Raktha and Sarnak, the two warriors. Brillian: Thank you! Without you the effort would have been lost! (To Sarnak) It is nice to see you again Sarnak, (to Raktha) but you are you I must ask? Raktha: I am Raktha, a she-orc from the mountains of Nocturnus. I am here to prove that not all orcs have turned to evil, even if it means fighting my brethren. Brillian: Well I am happy to have you fighting alongside me, no matter what species you are! Raktha: Thank you! Brillian: I would like for you, my friend Starandil, and his good friend Infernum to lead the assault on the city. Raktha: I would be honored! The orc and elf walk off while the Kaliphlinite prepares the troops for battle. The mage is now at hand, they are on his doorstep. Now they must retake Cedrica, and the freedom of Historica. End of Chapter Two. The warriors have entered the city. What they found was nothing like what they expected. They had hoped for a straight up battle, while what they got was guerilla warfare. Victor was smarter than anticipated. He had torn down the top half of many of the houses, and replaced them with towers, battlements, and siege weapons. The result was that one or few of Victor’s soldiers could easily hold the attackers at bay, and the progress was very slow. More and more Historicans fell as a formation of Victor’s soldiers repelled them and they found themselves stuck, making easy prey for the archers in the battlements. The Historicans had lost their formations as they scrambled to escape the arrows flying from above. This is the state Raktha, Starandil, and Infernum found their soldiers in. Starandil: Look at this mess! No wonder we were put in charge! Infernum: Ha, I guess we had better go help out! Raktha: Ah, nothing is more fun than thinning out Victor’s troops! Starandil: Let’s go then! The three ran into the fray. The street had two battlements built into the houses, as well as a tower and a large goblin machine. As they watched the machine creaked and hissed, and suddenly a capsule spat out the front. It landed in front of a few Historicans, and with a flash the capsule exploded and burned the unlucky Historicans to ashes. Raktha: Gunpowder! We have to take out that machine! Starandil: Let’s go then! The three run to the front lines, and kick down the door to a house next to the one with the machine. They neatly swing their swords, taking out the guards. They run up the stairs and get rid of the soldiers on the battlement. Raktha grabs one of the soldier’s crossbows and shoot the goblins operating the machine before they can react. Raktha: Well that was easy. We shou- Infernum: Look out! Infernum jumped over the side of the building, bringing his two companions with him. Moments after they jumped a fireball hit where they were, and the battlement burst into flames. It had been made by a wizard standing on a house across from them. The three land on the street, all on their feet. Starandil: That was close! His relief faded when he saw who were all around him. The Historicans had been pushed back. They were surrounded by Victor’s forces. They pulled out their swords within seconds and started slicing. Victor’s forces were even more shocked. The warriors created much confusion. The three ran down the street pushing through Victor’s unsuspecting and slicing through them as they went. They ran back through the street towards their lines. The three were almost there. Goblin: Take this you traitor! With a screech he spears Raktha in the leg. Raktha: Agh! She falls to the ground. Infernum and Starandil stand around her, stabbing at anything that comes close. Suddenly they helped her up and made a dash through the front lines of Victor’s hoard. They collide with their own troops. Several help Raktha back to safety. Infernum and Starandil: Charge! Push them back! The Historicans exploded forward, crushing anything in their way. Victor’s forces are repelled back, shocked at the ferocity of the assault. Suddenly the defenders disappear. They have either retreated or been killed. The street has fallen! Infernum: The street is ours! Starandil: We have a straight shot to Victor’s keep now! Brillian, the elf lord, walks up. Brillian: Nice work my friends! But where is Raktha? Infernum: Our companion was stabbed in the leg by a goblin. Starandil, any word on her condition? Starandil: She’ll be fine. She only needs to rest for a few weeks. Brillian: I wish her the best of recoveries. Her efforts were valiant! Now back to the matter at hand. We now have a path to Victor’s inner keep. The other warriors are still fighting. We shall attack now, before they are ready. Prepare the warriors. Starandil: Ha, ha! Aye sir! I’d be more than happy to! Time to give that wizard what he deserves! Infernum: We shall take him by surprise! Ha, ha! Let us prepare for a fight! The three walk off talking about battle strategies and opportunities. They are ready for a fight, a fight to free Historica from the oppression of Victor forever. End of Part Three Victor stands in a large, black room with ominous stained glass windows. He is not alone. He stands with his most trusted advisors and generals, as well as his younger brother Kaine. The generals bring him constant updates on the battle. The evil mastermind wears black robes and a black cape. His brother wears an eye patch over his left eye, where it had been permanently hurt in battle. Near them stands a wizard. He wears grey and black robes under his long white beard. He and his order of wizards have joined Victor to survive, to weather the storm of revolution. He is Oden, a famous wizard of Avalonia, one thought to be wise. Standing with Kaine, who strokes his black beard, itching for battle, is a pale woman. She wields a short blade and an assassin’s claw. She is a Vampiri of Mitgardia, and a deadly one. She is Nyythra, Kaine’s love interest. Hand General: Sirs, the rebels have been sighted on their way here! Victor: Ha! General, begin evacuating the rest of the troops and prisoners. Begin moving them to our strongholds. Hand General: Yes sir! I will give the order. As the others shuffle to escape the city through secret tunnels Kaine approaches his older brother. Kaine: Brother, you must be insane! We will be giving up the city! Victor: Open up your eyes, you do not see the depth of the situation. You see only the battle, not the war. We shall not entirely give up, you and I, as well as some others, will give a battle, then we will let them think they won. Kaine: But what about our position, and the soldiers we lost!?! Victor: This was just a momentary position. In the time we were here we have built dozens of strongholds, as well as captured double that number of cities. Their losses are much worse than ours; they have only scraped the surface of my army. Now stop complaining and get your men ready to fight! Kaine: Yes, brother… A pound is heard at the gate of Victor’s new castle. Victor’s soldiers hurry into position. After a few more pounds the door explodes inward, and attackers flood in. They are surprised to find very little resistance, and the area is captured in seconds. The leaders of the attackers meet. Among them are Brillain, Starandil, Infernum, and Sarnak, the Kaliphlinite leader. Also with them is the Nocturnian leader, Zarnak. Starandil: Ha, did they already give up? Brillian: If only, I think it’s likely they’re all waiting in Victor’s inner most chamber. Sarnak: Waiting to ambush us. Brillian: Exactly. Infernum: So why don’t we go give them fight! The besiegers found the door to Victor’s keep locked. They began breaking down the down the door. Inside Victor, Kaine, Oden stand along with wizards, orcs, and dozens of Hand of Curruption soldiers. They take positions in formations and await their besiegers. The door snaps. A bloody battle begins. It is short but bloody. Kaine makes the first move. He lunges forward, spearing Sarnak in the chest. Then total chaos breaks loose. Kaine spins his spear, knocking several Historicans to the ground as they try to attack him. The Hand of Corruption viscously attacks the Historicans. These are Victor’s and Kaine’s elite soldiers. Several wizards throw fireballs at the attackers. A lone Historican manages to break through Victor’s formation, and charges towards the wizard himself. He swings his sword at Victor, only to find a knife stab into his stomach. The wizard is a master of many weapons; even though he appears an old man he is much more. The battle continues. Victor puts up a barrier of magic around him as he prepares to summon a powerful elemental. Suddenly an ornate blade slices through the air. Holding it is Nyythra, the female vampiri. Nyythra: Take this you pointy eared scum! The blade plants itself into the back of Brillian. Nyythra darts away as Brillian collapses. The great wizard Oden stands with wide eyes watching all this. Never in his long life has he witnessed this much carnage. Oden: This is wrong… Suddenly he runs toward Victor. He summons all his magic. Victor raises his staff to unleash the elemental. With a yell Oden jumps into the magic. The magic of the two most powerful wizards on the planet collides in an explosion of color. Both sides are blown into the air by the force of the explosion. All that remains of the two wizards is a pile of ash. The Historicans stand up, stunned. Avalonian: Victor is dead! Kaliphlinite: We are free! The Hand of Corruption soldiers lay down their weapons, they are beat. Kaine and Nyythra have disappeared. Infernum and Starandil talk. Infernum: Kaine and that Vampiri have both disappeared. Starandil: Aye, I also think some of Victor’s soldiers have also escaped through some tunnel or other. I’ve just talked to some messengers; Victor’s forces have vanished from the streets. Where to? I don’t know. Infernum: I don’t think this is the last we’ll hear of Kaine. But what of Sarnak and Brillian? They begin searching for them. They have both been killed. Starandil: It is hard to believe one person can bring about so much destruction. Infernum: The more I think about it the more I doubt that he’s dead. Do you think that explosion was enough to kill him? Starandil: Ah, we can only hope! Two men walk through the dark back alleys of Cedrica. They were black cloaks that hide their features. Kaine: Brother, I finally see the genius of your plan now. How does it feel to be a dead man? Victor: Like all my waiting has finally paid off. I am ready to fulfill the rest of my plan. THE END Hope you enjoyed! I think the last photos turned out great! -Infernum P.S.: This is how I took the last photo. There is an interior side for the second build too. There's also one for the first, but I don't have a pic yet.

Challenge VI: The Legend of Revolword As the four guilds did not know Revolword had left Cedrica, many armies from the four guilds under various lords and leaders converged upon the city. Bishop Jamon and his Knights of Aslan were one of the first to arrive. As soon as the city was within sight, Bishop Jamon knew something was amiss. At first he thought his army had arrived late and that the other armies had already breached the city walls but the scouts returned stating that there was no sign of battle at the southern, eastern, nor western walls. "Perhaps Mitgardia's armies were the first to arrive and have succesfully entered the city from the north," Jamon responded. "Let us be quick and give our brothers aid." The army quickened their pace and before too long they had reached the southern gates. Sounds of massive destruction came from within the city as billows of smoke rose above the city. The gatehouse seemed abandoned but then on a high tower along the wall some members of the Hand caught his attention. Just then one of his commanders rode up to him. "Sire, the leader of the Hand in that tower wishes to speak to you." "What is there to speak about?" Bishop Jamon questioned. "He said it was concerning Victor Revolword." "Very well," Bishop Jamon replied and rode his horse to the bank of the part of the moat nearest to the tower. "Hail most wretched creature," he called up to the Hand leader. "Hurry and speak your piece before we begin our assault and remove your wicked presence from this land." "Oh most holy human," the creature responded, "Word of your honor and honesty has reached even our ears. We wish to make a deal with you but we only trust you. We know that any other leader of Historica would break their word and slaughter us in a rage after we opened the gate for you." "You will open the gate for us?" Bishop Jamon asked incredulously. "You would turn so easily on your master? You pathetic creatures have no honor or loyalty do you?" "Quite the contrary oh most holy human," the Hand leader replied. "Lord Revolword is dead." "Dead?" Bishop Jamon laughed. "Throw me his head and then I will believe he is dead." "I cannot do that as Lord Revolword left Cedrica some time ago." "Then how can you say he is dead?" "He has to be dead as all the elementals have gone crazy and are destroying each other as they would if they were not under his control. We will open the gates for you if you promise to let us go free with our lives." "You know I cannot do that," Bishop Jamon replied. "We are stuck between death in the city by elementals and death by you outside the walls. Why should you waste the lives of yor men assaulting us when all we ask is our lives in return for the lives of your men?" the Hand leader asked. "We will fight taking as many of your soldiers with us in death if you press us." Bishop Jamon thought the creatures offer over knowing he could and would never guarantee them a full pardon from their crimes. After a few moments he replied. "I will make but one deal with you. If you deal in honesty and uprightness and open the gates for us as well as giving me all the information you have concerning Victor Revolword, his plans, and his actions, I will give you and those under your leadership three days to flee. After the three days are passed, mark my word, we as well as the rest of Historica will hunt you down and bring you to justice. This is my final word with you, take it or leave it and prepare for our attack." "Oh human of great honor, it is well that I spoke to you as I knew it would be. I accept your most gracious offer." the creature responded. So it was that Bishop Jamon was able to enter Cedrica without a single casualty. Bishop Jamon held the southern gate until the other armies arrived and together as one army they swarmed the city destroying any elemental or Hand member that remained. Bishop Jamon also kept his word to the Hand leader and waited three days before he sent trackers to hunt the Hand leader and his army but they were never to be found. Their trail disappeared in the deep tunnels below Historica. Walls of Cedrica by Masa of Kaliphlin, on Flickr Walls of Cedrica2 by Masa of Kaliphlin, on Flickr From what Bishop Jamon had learned from the Hand leader, Victor Revolword had left Cedrica a month before Bishop Jamon and his army had arrived. It seemed that as with any unholy desire, Revolword's thirst for power had begun to crave even more. The power of the Elemental Helm had started to become mundane to him, so he began to search for other legends of power. One legend in particular intrigued him- the legend of the Mind Benders, a mythical race that supposedly were able to control the minds of any living creature. Revolword secretly traveled into the long lost caverns far below Historica's surface with only a couple fire elementals as his guard, for he did not trust even the most loyal members of the Hand. Unending Thirst by Masa of Kaliphlin, on Flickr Unending Thirst2 by Masa of Kaliphlin, on Flickr As far as Victor Revolword's true fate, no one knows. Some say he fell down a deep crevace losing the Elemental Helm in the process. Others say that he became some creature's meal and the Elemental Helm lies hidden in some lair waiting to be rediscovered. Still others, doomsayers claim that Victor succeeded in his search and is biding his time until he masters his new found magic. But the most common fate given to Revolword is the one parents tell their children to make them behave. In this version of the Legend of Revolword it ends with him eternally enslaved by the Mind Benders who send him out to kidnap naughty children. The Historica mainland slowly recovers as the last of the elementals and the Hand are hunted down and destroyed and the people return to their homes to rebuild. However, many are looking to new lands to settle in, lands that were untouched by the elemental destruction, lands such as the increasingly wealthy Varlyrio. New alliances are forming, and with the king missing, several powerful lords scheme for Historica's throne. Whether Historica will find peace again or whether Historica becomes embroiled in another war remains to be seen. New Alliances3 by Masa of Kaliphlin, on Flickr New Alliances by Masa of Kaliphlin, on Flickr