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::sighs:: a little reading material 4 u peeps. *PIC*

Posted By: Doom (149.24.28.4)
Date: 8/1/2002 at 9:45 p.m.

I, too, seem to have fallen to this horrible madness that entails writing fanfics. Although I have yet to write anything (with the exception of flavor texts) about my asylumer character, I thought of a character when I first played the game, along with a story for him. This fanfic is written in third person if you can believe that, but I think I'll leave it to you to figure the rest out. I haven't finished it (nowhere near finished it, actually) but it's going to entail the entire frikking duration of the beginning of Myth TFL to the end of Myth SB (and even a little further beyond, mb). It'll have nothing to do with Chimera, though. At least, not unless I change my mind. But that's prbly too much writing for me. Ain't got a title yet... I'm open to suggestions.

Anyways, hyar's the beginning. (Hoohah.)

In the poor light that the all-but set sun afforded his eyes, Kalvar walked through the scorched desert landscape, picking his way through the piled dead. The battle which had taken place only hours before his arrival had left behind thousands of bodies. As he moved cautiously past a particularly large heap, he heard a faint, muffled sound from behind him.

He whirled, hand immediately going to the hilt of his sword. He wished that it was the hilt of one of his old sabres, Kra’Gior and Irzavii, Honor and Virtue, that he gripped, rather than the flimsier blade that currently rode at the left of his belt. Though at least as proficient with the katana as he had been with his own sabres, he was far more familiar with the two blades that he had used thousands of times before. He scanned the flat desert landscape in the quickly failing light, but the horizon was broken only by the piles of bodies and the odd dune dotting the sandy floor in the distance. He turned back towards the monolithic mountains that formed the Cloudspine, but left his right hand gripping his sword, which he also loosened in its scabbard. Suddenly, the same sound he had heard before reached his ears, louder and clearer. And again, he whipped around.

This time, what he saw shocked him. Three ghôls now sat atop the large mound he had passed moments before, and the side of it closest to him had burst out a little, revealing two thrall and a… something all climbing out. He hadn’t seen such minions of the Dark since he was very young, and he had thought that the horrific waves of undead had been quelled once and for all. But… but he had heard rumors recently during his sojourn in the east… rumors of defiled graves, and armies of the dead… rumors that the shining city Muirthemne had fallen… rumors of six sorcerer-generals who could conjure up the horrors of nightmares… and rumors of a great warlord leading them all, who the rumors named Balor. It was these rumors that had drawn Kalvar back to the lands of the west. Though he had been in self-imposed exile since days that men could no longer remember, he could not shake the sense of dread those rumors had impressed on him. And now, he saw, the rumors were true. There was once more a war in the west between the forces of Dark and the forces Light. And the Dark was winning, of that there could be no doubt.

Caught in his reverie, Kalvar quite suddenly came awake, as the ghôl furthest down the side of the pile lopped the head off one of the bodies, and threw it at him. He easily dodged it, though other ghôls took the oppurtunity to throw exploding pus packets in his direction. Running back, he dodged behind the next hill of dead as the two packets exploded, and he could see the poisonous powders that the packets contained fly out around the hill, which, fortunately, was tall enough to prevent the powder from just falling over the top of it on to him.

As soon as the fever-inducing poisons had settled to the ground, the thing that he hadn’t been able to recognize rushed out at him. It looked almost mummified, and the swords it held had single-edged blades on either side of the hilt, each facing a different direction, and it swung them with an incredible speed. From his crouched position, he sprung back and up, flipping once, and whipped out his own two swords. The thing swung at him with a ferocious speed a few times, while he quite easily deflected each and every blow it rained down on him. Then in a fury, it spread its arms wide and rushed in wildly to slaughter him. He, however, jumped up and planted his foot squarely in the middle of its chest. He heard the sound of cracking bones, as weak as if they were centuries old, before lunging and driving one of his blades through it’s neck. The thing collapsed onto one of the piles, just in time for the two thrall to arrive.

He scrambled up the side of that same pile and jumped behind them. The thrall, of course, stood in confusion staring where Kalvar had been standing moments before. He chuckled, once, and then lopped their heads off. He started back towards the mound the ghôls were squatting on, to be showered by bloody body pieces. Dodging the biggest pieces, he quickly reached behind his back and drew the slender knife sheathed behind his neck. He threw it at the closest of the three ghôls, to be rewarded with a solid thud as it slid into the accursed thing’s chest, and ducked and rolled for cover, before the other two could find something sharper to throw at him. Then without warning, an arrow suddenly sprouted from one of the other ghôls’ head, sticking out directly through its mouth, and the thing hacked out blood for a minute or two before it fell dead. The final ghôl rose to its feet in fright and alarm and stared at its fallen brethren, before finally running back off into the night.
-----
Kalvar walked out from behind the mound, and saw a fir’Bolg, of all things, standing there grinning at him impudently.

“Thought you might like a little help,” the archer said, “though I have to admit, you did pretty damn good out there. How in blazes did you move so fast?”

“Part of my training…” Kalvar replied. “Ah… I don’t mean to be rude, or any such thing, but, what are the fir’Bolg doing out of the Ermine? And on the eastern side of the Cloudspine, no less.”

The fir’Bolg looked surprised. “Have you been hiding under a rock for the past seventeen years? There’s a war going on.”

“Well, yes, I sort of noticed that last part. But, in answer to your question, that’s more or less right. I’ve been off in the lands of the east for quite some time now. When I started hearing rumors of armies of the living dead off in the west, though, it sort of caught my attention,” he continued dryly.

The archer laughed at that. “Well, come along with me. Some of the Nine are here, to retrieve something or other, or so I’ve gathered,” he said. “Perhaps someone there can fill you in a little more. I must warn you, though, you’re pretty good with those odd-looking swords of yours.”

“Warn me?”

“Alric’ll want to conscript you the moment he, or anyone else with rank close to that of the Nine’s, for that matter, sees you. You can bet on that.”

“How much?”

“What?” the archer replied.

“You said I could bet on it. I just want to know how much you’d be willing to lose when I did.”

The archer laughed again. “By the way, you don’t happen to have a name, do you?”

“I’ve had lots of ’em. The one I’m currently using, though, is Kalvar. What’s yours?”

“Well, I’ve only got one – unless you count the names that my archery instructor used to call me – bonehead, idiot, and the like. But I’d sort of prefer it if you called me ny’Marro, Kalvar.”

“I’ll do that. Shall we get out of this field of corpses, then, or shall we just wait for the stench to get into our clothing, so that we have to burn it?”

“Second option sounds quite tempting, Kal, but I’ve always been rather fond of this tunic. I made it out of the hide of the first deer I ever shot,” he replied, smiling.

“Kal?”

“What about it?”

Kalvar blinked. “Kal?” he asked again, incredulously.

“If you keep repeating yourself like that, old boy, people are going to think you’re a little off, you know.”

Kalvar continued staring at ny’Marro. “Kal?” he once again repeated.

“One of those people being me, for a start,” he said, rolling his eyes upward good-naturedly. “Come on, then. We’d best get going, if we want to save these clothes from the fire, don’t you think?”

“Kal?” he asked yet again as he started walking alongside the young fir’Bolg. “Where in the world did you get Kal?”

“Just thought of it on the spot, Kal,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

Plz tell me whatchu think.
-Dm

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