SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 2

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde
Chapter 2 - A Call to Arms

The moon waxed and waned over the course of four months as the satyr made an effort to let the words of the council be the final few spoken in regards to the problem in Orlandia. He met with his fellow revelers to prepare for future gatherings, discussing the music to be played and dances to perform. He helped in the fields and toiled in the breweries, doing his part as expected for his community. Many of his nights were restless, the sounds and visions of suffering waking him from sleep, familiar voices that seemed to be calling him from across the Sea of Oak, and across the realm. Most consistent in his dreams was the image of a great bird swathed in blinding flame. Then, one night, the bright bird clashed violently with darker winged creatures in his mind... sick, twisted pieces of darkness given form and movement. These sinister things clawed and pecked voraciously, mindlessly tearing at the fiery plumage despite its punishing heat. Aurelion knew of the phoenix as an ancient creature, one of many fanciful beasts that roamed the Earth long before the wylder. To see such a bird was usually an omen of renewal, of life rising from ruin... and yet here this creature was in his dreams, fighting for its life. The bird called out in an almost deafening shrill no eagle or hawk could match. The satyr awoke, panting through clenched teeth, his body damp with fevered sweat. He sat upright, calming himself as he tried to breathe in deeper, less desperate breaths. He froze as he heard the phoenix call out again, from what seemed a considerable distance this time, but in the realm of the waking.

The satyr slid from his bedding and dressed quickly, donning enough to maintain modesty and barrelled through his front door, half-running into the street of his village, and looked around. The great bird's protracted shrieks echoed across the night sky, and yet no other hut or hovel stirred. No candles or lanterns were being hastily lit. No murmurs of confusion or clamoring came from the other villagers, no commotion broke the calm of the sleeping neighbors. Aurelion began to question whether he was truly conscious. The sounds continued, pausing for moments, then resuming with the same urgency and volume. The satyr surmised that this creature was in need, and was calling only to him, for reasons beyond his understanding. He jogged back into his home, and quickly threw open an old chest at the foot of his bed. His housemates were awake now, mumbling complaints as he rifled through his stored belongings noisily. He cracked a subtle smile as he happened upon a leather belt he was seeking, as well as a bearded axe that belonged to his father. He applied the belt to his midsection and buckled it, then fastened the axe to his side with a hanging strap. Aurelion strode briskly out of his house, the elves and orcs he shared a flat with blinking in disbelief as he climbed upon his horse and kicked its ribs with purpose. Aurelion bolted away on his steed, following the faraway cries of the phoenix.

Aurelion's mount thundered down the road of flat stones, the impressive hoofbeats of a healthy draughthorse drumming upon the ground. She galloped with surprising speed as she carried her charge through the forest paths and city roads, seeming to know her master's need and keeping pace without faltering. Aurelion soon found himself in the center of Delamarre, and the night was silent. The satyr slowed his steed to a walk as he swallowed nervously, wondering if he was too late to help. The night was unsettlingly calm again. The satyr ground his teeth in frustration, fearing that he may have been chasing a nightmare or some troublesome phantom. He patted the neck of his heaving steed, trying to calm her. "Easy, Poppet," he said in a soothing tone. "I'll let you rest and we'll head back-". The shocking cry of the phoenix erupted again. Aurelion's horse reared and neighed, almost throwing him. The reality of this creature was undeniable as the horse reacted. This time, the call had more direction, and the satyr knew it had to be one place... the gate! He coerced Poppet into a hasty gallop and rode hard to the source of the shrieks.

As the satyr approached the legendary gates, the awful sounds of the phoenix rattled his skull, his horns vibrating slightly as each terrible wave pierced the otherwise impervious doors. He could see several guards from Delemarre, armed for battle and yet cowering, holding their helmets in pain as they too were audibly assaulted. Then came a great impact, and the gates, though holding fast, moved slightly, as though something of great size had thrown itself against them. Another slam rocked the gates, and the guards took a step back, making their weapons ready. The great thing railed against the door... repeatedly. Aurelion trembled as he watched the doors of oak and elven steel move with each hammering impact. The great bird gave another deafening shriek from the other side, and another strike against the gates followed, punctuated this time by a most unnerving cacophony... thousands of calls and shrieks from things beyond the gates that only played at being birds. These were the shadowfowl, once normal beings, some even human, now corrupted and diseased with a living darkness that escaped from oblivion when the Yaoguai had returned. These were the same things that tormented and assaulted the phoenix in his nightmare, and here they were, in numbers great enough to shake the Oakenfold Gate. The sounds from the other side of the gate were maddening, and two of the guards stepped backward, dropping their weapons, their forms shaken and pale with absolute terror. Suddenly, the gates, and the things behind them, went silent. Nothing came through the passage, save for what sounded like labored breathing. Something remained at the gate, heaving lungfuls of air... waiting, it seemed. The satyr could no longer stand and watch. He had no way of knowing what stood on the other side: the phoenix of his dreams, or some misshapen abomination sent by the Demonlord Corax. The guards simply stood in place, mouths agape despite years of training and defending this portal. Something had crept in past the gate, regardless of its magicks, and forced its way into the minds of the soldiers as they stared wide-eyed into the middle distance. The evil of the shadowfowls was quickly corrupting them. The satyr watched one guard, moving like a frail puppet, producing a copy of the key to the gate and holding it aloft. Aurelion clenched his teeth and took a breath. His right hand tugged at the strap holding the axe, loosening the knot so he could draw the weapon. He stepped forward, his heart racing as the key began to hum. The doors of the gate began their mechanized process, and the satyr's hands wrung tightly on the handle of his axe as he prepared to fight. He was no soldier, no great warrior, yet he prepared himself to engage his potential foes, be they intruders through the gate or the tainted guards around him. The doors clanked, and gave way.

The satyr found himself awash in brilliant light and a strangely comforting heat, as though he were in a great furnace. He blinked, squinting as he raised a hand to shield his eyes, trying to gaze upon what lay beyond the now open gate. A creature stood in the entrance, breathing heavily and wavering, obviously battle-weary. It was the phoenix of his dreams, burning like a sun as it looked upon him, it's impressive head turning to look at him with an unblinking, steady eye. Movement in the sky distracted him, and he looked upward. For a moment it appeared as though the bird and the satyr were in the eye of a great cyclone, swirling above them in a colossal circle of ink black clouds. Aurelion's eyes became more focused, and he muttered an old fel expression as his vision drank in the horror of the details: thousands upon thousands of shadowfowl, oily, vile perversions of crows and ravens, circling and calling in nightmarish tones. The satyr stepped back, the terror starting to seap into the edges of his mind. Then there was a voice, unknown yet familiar, and it called his name with authority, "Aurelion Kelkallen! Son of Morthos Kelkallen, bearer of the blood of the Ancients... be still!,". The satyr looked again at the phoenix, astonished. The voice continued, "The fates draw their hands across the strings of time, young satyr, and the resounding song bears your name. This realm has fallen out of balance, and its keepers know you have heard its call for help. The Demonlord grows more powerful each day. Countless mortals shall suffer. More realms than you can comprehend are in danger."
Aurelion stammered, overwhelmed," B-but I am only a simple satyr! A reveler, not a warrior... certainly not a hero!"
"The blood of heroes pumps through your heart, through your mind, along your veins. Greatness lies within you like so many others."
"But what can I do...," the satyr points skyward, "... against that?!,".
"You must gather other heroes and make a stand against the Demonlord. You must prepare the mortals of Orlandia for the return of their lost king. Most importantly, you must seek out that which will undo the Demonlord's magicks. You must find... Khaz'Radan!".
Aurelion puzzled at the great bird," But what is it! And where can I find-". The massive cyclone of shadowfowl broke, and the multitude of winged things dove. "Time grows short, satyr," the voice cut in," Go... find those that would stand with you and seek out Khaz'Radan. You shall not be far from my influence, nor my observation." The phoenix spread its large wings, its plumage burning brighter and hotter as the shadowfowl descended and began to surround them. The great bird made eye contact with Aurelion and drew in a deep breath," For now, a gift...,". The phoenix emitted another deafening shriek, and blinding light launched forth, striking the satyr. He yelled in surprise as the flames flowed and eddied around him. For a moment there was no pain, then, an intense burning on his right arm stung him as though something were being carved upon him with a hot knife. The satyr faltered, stumbling backward into the Wyldewood side of the gate. He fell to the forest floor, losing conciousness as the doors of the Oakenfold Gate closed, the sounds of a disturbing clash of fire and shadow carrying on, the flames of an inferno lashing at the last sliver of opening in the doors, before they slammed shut, the energies of the high magicks securing them once again. A short distance away, Belthazan and a full compliment of elven guards approached, and paused as they surveyed the area. Aurelion lay motionless on the ground, the smoldering bodies of the gate's guards next to him. Belthazan shook where he stood, furious.

SoO 3 - War of Talons - Chapter 1

War of Talons: Tales of the Wylde

An account of the wylderfolk and their campaign to help save Orlandia.

Prologue - The Wylderfolk

Before time knew measure, and humankind first tread into the light, there existed a race of beings who walked this earth, lost now to the æther. These beings held great power and ruled as gods over the earliest mortal creatures that came into being. The greater race, in their arrogance and greed, waged war with one another, determined to gain dominion over all things, as they felt it their place to do so. Much of the blood of these beings was shed in their conflict, and the blood mixed with the water in the rivers, and sank into the soil. The mortal creatures drank of the tainted water and ate of the fruit from the tainted soil. From this, the wylderfolk were born. Eventually the Greater race fell into decline, and the wylder grew stronger. Elf and pixie, goblin and troll, all manner of fae and fel sprang forth from the bloodshed of the self-proclaimed gods, and in time the wylder came together as a great force to overthrow the remaining Greater beings, until they had made the Earth their own.

Centuries would pass, and eventually the differences between the fae and fel separated the two races. The wylder became divided. It was then that the age of humankind had begun, the untainted mortals growing in number, and becoming more intelligent. Many wars were waged as the humans staked their claim on the lands of the Earth. Despite the advantages that both fae and fel folk possessed, the determination and cunning of the humans proved them a formidable adversary, and at times, a valuable ally to any wylder willing to work with them. The fel folk were proud and relentless, and continued to hold lands and occasionally challenge human-held domains.

Many of the fae, and even some of the fel, chose a different approach to the situation. An accord was struck with an early king of Orlandia, in which the wylder agreed to avoid conflict with the humans. A vast and enchanted territory east of Orlandia was declared the domain of the wylder. Many of the fae and fel moved to this place and made their homes there, in a hidden kingdom that became known as the Wyldewood. Most of the wylder, aside from tribes that did not agree to the Accord, remained in the Wyldewood, avoiding humankind for generations. Once a year, an elected chieftain would be sent by the Wylder Council to act as an ambassador, and to host an Autumn festival in honor of the accord. In recent years, it was the satyr Aurelion Kelkallen who was chosen, and it was he who stood with his usual procession of revelers and merrymakers, discussing the journey back to the Wyldewood with his companions after another successful festival, when the crackle of dark energies thundered and rolled over the skies above Orlandia. The satyr had suspected a shadow of corruption might have been creeping through the kingdom as the weekend had progressed, but was unprepared for the sorcery that suddenly erupted around the city.

Chapter 1 - The Scattering

The Scattering was unstoppable... a spell cast by a demon as old as the realm itself. The revelers of the Wyldewood, a group of fae and fel beings known in Orlandia and throughout the land as keepers of the accord between humans and the wylder, found themselves in the same whirlwind of confusion and fear as the good people of Orlandia when the spell swept across the kingdom. The revelers were still in the heart of the city the day Corax Corvidious, the once-exiled Yaoguai, declared himself Emperor, taking a cruel hold of dominion over Orlandia, exercising overwhelming power through Prince Validus, his young and naive proxy. Mere moments had passed since the emperor had woven his will into forceful invocation, and the revelers were now picking themselves up from the floor of a dense forest, shaking their heads and blinking as though waking from a terrible and shocking dream. Aurelion Kelkallen, Chieftain of the revelers of the Wyldewood, shook the shadows and dizziness from his horned head as he re-oriented himself. He knew the trees, and the breeze that caressed their branches. The Sea of Oak, as it was known to travelers, was a dense, vast forest that many mortals avoided, as its seemingly infinite sprawl received many a wanderer, yet returned so few. It was within this great body of foliage that the passage to the Wyldewood existed. This was the kingdom of the wylder, hidden deep in the Sea of Oak, beyond the Oakenfold Gate, accessible only to those that knew the way. The satyr breathed a sigh, taking solace in the fact that at least home was nearby. His gaze passed over the area as he took account of those that were with him, assessing their well-being as his eyes found them. Once all were accounted for, and found to be of little injury, the satyr gathered his entourage into its familiar caravan, and commenced an unexpectedly abbreviated journey home.

After most of a day's travel through the Sea of Oak, Aurelion smiled as he spotted a structure well-known to him, that being an immense, high-vaulted corridor among the enormous, seemingly infinite expanse of trees. The walls and ceiling of this corridor were fashioned of living wood, as though the forest here was convinced to bend and shape itself to resemble the work of a master architect. This was the passage to the legendary portal used by the wylder to cross between the Wyldewood and the rest of the realm: the Oakenfold Gate. There it stood, in its foreboding scale and awe-inspiring majesty, glimmering in the rays of sunlight that were allowed into the forest corridor. The gate itself was a union of ancient wood and elven steel unseen in any structure before or since, metal winding and spiraling in a beautiful waltz of design and function, reinforcing intricately hewn oak that looked like it alone could repel the greatest foes. Volumes of runic text ran across its surface, the numerous glyphs bearing the blessings and wards of the most powerful High Mages in the Wyldewood. No creature could pass this gate without a key, and Aurelion possessed one, attached to one of many trinket-laden braids that rested upon his shoulders among his long locks of hair. The key, made of steel and bearing intricacies similar to the doors, grew warm and hummed as the satyr approached the gate. Once close enough, a pulse of energy washed visibly across the surface of the door like ripples on a pond. Deep within the doors of the gate, metal works shifted and pushed against one another. The Oakenfold gate groaned and clanked as it parted, granting enough of an opening into the Wyldewood as to allow the revelers to pass through. Aurelion and his entourage made their way into the kingdom they called home, the gate slowly and smoothly closing, rather definite and solid noises resonating behind them as the portal was once again secured.

The welcome into the courtyard by the faefolk in the Elven city of Delamarre was of course warm, filled with citizens eager to hear news from the human world, what progress they have made as a race, and to hear the anecdotes of misadventures experienced by the satyr and his companions. Such was commonplace with Aurelion as the Ambassador. He simply smiled, happy with the jubilant reception, but silently dismounted from his horse and began to make way to the council chambers. The elves and goblins that followed him, asked to hear tales of his travel, and Aurelion promised them that he might share his experiences later, after meeting with the council.

The intricate wrought-iron gates to the council chamber creaked open as the Elven guards pulled them open. Aurelion entered and descended the stone steps of the open-air amphitheater that served as a forum and meeting place for any matter that required the council's attention. The wylderfolk were already filtering in through the gate and filing in to take seats on the circles of hewn granite that surrounded the chamber. The satyr stood at the inner circle of marble that lie before the council's stage seating, and awaited his audience with the Wyldewood's statesmen, who were already making their way onto the stage. They were a careful, well-considered collection of wylder, dressed in glimmering robes and laurel crowns of fresh growth about their heads. They each took a seat and awaited the call to order. An older elf, Belthazan, remained standing since he was to speak as the official voice of the council for this session. The theater seats filled and the clamor of the crowd dwindled to whispers as the anticipation grew. Aurelion gazed upward at the canopy of growth created by the weaving branches of the tall oaks that made up the walls and ceiling of the chamber. He took a deep breath as the crowd grew silent, and lowered his vision to look upon Belthazan as the elf called the session to order.

"Greetings, Aurelion Kelkallen, Lord of the Autumn Festival," The elf began in an impressive tone that filled the chamber, "We are honestly surprised, as you are usually late for this discussion after the festival, what with all the tales of merriment you have when you return... yet today you came straight to the council. What concerns you that you come to us with such urgency?"
Aurelion responded with an equal volume, "Good council of the Wyldewood, I do have enjoyable tales to share, but they must wait. Trouble stirs in the world of humans, and I feel that we must act in order to stop a terrible force from taking hold."
Belthazan tilted his head curiously, but spoke sternly, "I would remind you, satyr, of the accord. We have vowed to remain neutral in all matters involving the humans."
The Satyr stepped forward. "I am well aware of the articles of the accord, councilman. But this matter was not accounted for when the agreement was forged. A demon-lord has taken the kingdom of Orlandia." The crowd murmured furtively as the council members leaned inward to each other and spoke amongst themselves," This demon intends to spread his domain across the Earth. Human and Wylder alike are in danger!"
Belthazar turned to the council, whispering in the discussion with the others momentarily, then raised a hand to call for silence among the crowd. "The council is aware of the danger to the humans, as well as the wylder who chose not to honor the accord. However, we are confident of the magic protecting the Wyldewood. The demon cannot reach us here. In honor of the accord we must remain neutral, and in the Wyldewood. The humans and others must face this adversary on their own.
Aurelion was shocked by the lack of compassion. "Council, I beseech you! The humans are powerless against this foe. We must relax our adherence to the accord for their sake-"
"The humans have proven their determination and resourcefulness time and again," the elf interrupted. "They will endure and overcome this oppression on their own. Our involvement would be a waste of resources and soldiers."
The satyr's voice grew louder, almost speaking through a growl, it seemed, " The threat this demon-lord poses has a reach beyond Orlandia! His minions will eventually find the Oakenfold gate. It is a matter of time until his conquests will bring him to our doorstep!"
"Impossible!," snapped the elf, pointing in the general direction of legendary gate as he bellowed, "That gate has stood for centuries against foes great and small, including Infernals! We are safe here. Your friends must face this evil alone. I will not endanger the wylder for the sake of the humans!"
"Then it is you who forget the the articles of the accord and what they stand for! When we left the human kingdoms, we did so as friends of the humans. By ignoring their plight, you would turn your back on that friendship!"
Belthazan's rebuttal came as thunder, rattling the chamber, "I will turn my back because I feel it is in the best interests of the Wyldewood, as a member of the council which represents the whole of the Wyldewood, not the individual with outward concerns! Know your place in this chamber and among your people, satyr! This is not my personal decision, borne to spite you, but the consensus of the council, which represents the people of this kingdom. If you cannot approach this council with respect, then you are in no position to represent the Wylde in external affairs with Orlandia... perhaps another should serve as Lord of the Autumn Festival!"
The satyr closed his eyes and took a calming breath as the elf's gaze bore down upon him, the council also glaring with disapproval. "I apologize, members of the council. My love for the humans has clouded my judgment."
Mangeral, a female troll among the council, stood and spoke," We share your compassion for humankind, satyr. We have quietly observed them for centuries, and their ability to thrive despite any adversity is most impressive. They are this strong because we have not interfered. We must continue to do so, for their sake. Have faith that they will endure this hardship, and do not worry about the Yaoguai reaching the Wyldewood. The High Mages will protect us from any intrusion,". The troll's tone was more pleasant, reassuring. "Rest now, Aurelion. Your journey was long and you are wracked with worries. Rejoin the good folk in the courtyard, and regail us with your stories,". The satyr nodded, feeling defeated, but somewhat more calm as he bowed his head and turned to leave. The crowd followed him up the steps and out of the chamber with their eyes, abuzz with speculation and curiosity as the council stood and exited the stage. In the upper branches of the canopy, a dark, gnarled bird stirred among the leaves,watching the dispersing audience depart from the chamber.

Aurelion managed to ease into a more jovial mood as he settled into his storytelling. Mead and cherry wine were passed around as he spoke of Orlandia. He did his best to keep the mood light, focusing on the festival, and on the new and wonderful inventions that humankind had produced since the year before. The gathering carried into the night, so deep that the first rays of morning light peered through the trees as the last few interested folk stumbled off to their abodes to sleep. The satyr lead his horse home, waving to the stragglers as they parted. He stopped a few times, looking around. Something watched him and followed, careful to obscure itself in the shadows whenever he became suspicious. Eventually he came upon his home, and led his horse to its stable, taking the time to relieve the beast of its burden, taking his bundles and sacks with him as he trudged into his home, tired enough to sleep for three seasons.

SoO 3 - SoO2 Recap

Swords of Orlandia: Recap
Recap of AFO 9 : "What has Gone Before..."

Darker times indeed have never graced fair Orlandia. Her favored family destroyed, her people in dire distress and her sovereignty ruined by the ominous and powerful Yaoguai despot, known to all as simply the Emperor. With King Horus dead, unceremoniously killed by a falling chandelier, the people looked toward his son, Prince Validus, to guide the land back to glory. But a shadowy figure came into the lives of the royal family and with strange words and actions threatened the peace that had been bought with such a high price. The mysterious masked man constantly warned the crown prince that his closest advisor, an old and seemingly harmless sage, was also Orlandia's most mortal enemy.

But Validus was unaware of the old man's secret schemes and actually looked to him for guidance. This folly of youth only proved to highlight the Prince's temerity to come. It was soon revealed that the shadowy figure was none other than Hesperus himself, seemingly back from the grave, conflicted, misunderstood perhaps and still out to take control of the entire kingdom. His pride and lust for power drew him deeper into the darkness. However, Hesperus professed his love for the land and cast his suspicions on the old man in Validus' camp. At the same time the presumption of Queen Raine's truthfulness concerning Validus' father was challenged as Hesperus revealed that the boy was his, not his now dead brother's! With both parties locked in combat over the shattered pieces of the old swords, Van and Nifl, the people of Orlandia rallied behind both sides, going on expeditions to collect the many lost shards.

Alas...all was for naught. For at the end of our journey when last we all met under the celestial moon of Orlandia a trap was sprung. The old man divulged that he'd stolen the shards away from the 'evil' camp of Hesperus and offered them to Validus in the hopes of 'saving the king'. In a desperate bid to free the shards and stop his son from falling into darkness, Hesperus charged after Raine, Validus and the Sage. His attempt was in vain, he was imprisoned and only returned to the great hall once the shards had been reforged into one ultimate weapon. Validus approached the new blade and upon grasping it opened the gates between Orlandia and the dark void beyond. It was only then that the old man showed his true power which had remained hidden and growing within him. The Sage cackled and screamed and bellowed out his victory. For Validus had indeed saved the king...but not the one he had planned on saving! The banished Emperor of the Yaoguai now stood before them, the wolf in sheep's clothing revealed at last. He had been trapped for millenia, his anger had grown, his vengeance was swift. Validus enslaved, Raine blasted into oblivion and Hesperus banished into the very hell the Emperor had languished in for so, so long. But he wasn't finished yet for then he scattered all the adventurers from Orlandia, vexing them with his chides of ruler ship and daring them to return in one year's time and make a choice...serve him or be destroyed!

AFO 9 Video : Opening Ceremonies
AFO 9 Video: Closing Ceremonies
AFO 9 Video: Ending Video

SoO 3 - Chapter 3

Swords of Orlandia 3: The Khaz'Radan Prophecy
Chapter 3 - "One for Many"

She paused for a moment at the intersection of two great hallways and thought to herself being an elf makes this far too easy. Of course elf or not she had always had an inclination for moving effortlessly and without detection which is precisely why she had been chosen for this mission. The most important mission thus far and critical to any success the Anarchs dreamed for. It had been only a week ago that Aurelion had asked her to sneak inside the very walls of Orlandia's central keep and steal a wooden staff. "A stick" she had questioned to which Aurelion replied "Oh, much more than that dear girl" and explained that the very staff that the Emperor had carried while disguised as the Sage now stood enshrined in the town's central courtyard as a mocking reminder to all of who now ruled their lives. That alone was painful enough for many citizens to bear but had they known the entire truth it would have driven then mad. For you see that unassuming accessory was also in fact one of the Sacred Ten artifacts needed to summon Khaz'radan though not one of the masses suspected this. That he could display it out in the open was a secret satisfaction to the Emperor as the rod that could lead them all to freedom was one he used daily to symbolically beat submission into them.

A passing guard shook her from her memories and her eyes focused once more on the prize not ten paces from where she stood hidden in the shadows. The time was now. She bolted and back flipped over the low barrier surrounding the staff and just that fast it was in her hands. Of course as soon as her fingers gripped it an alarm went up as if by magic. Stupid she thought to herself, of course there would be enchantments to protect something so valuable. As the din continued royal guardsmen flooded in from every corridor making escape seem nigh impossible. Still the young girl didn't panic. This was going to be fun she thought as she flung herself with reckless abandon at the throng of men between her and her escape route. Leaping a flitting about, over and under, around and over again. Nothing stood in her way and nothing made her feel more alive than celebrating her wildness in the face of such crushing oppression. Guards cried out and steel blades brandished in angry hands struck at her from every angle and yet, still as graceful as a doe, she dodged every blow. And kept moving the staff closer to the hands of the rebellion with each fairy footfall. One last courtyard and one last gate stood between her and victory. She drew quick but even breaths as she continued to evade all attempts at capture easily sliding tween the legs of one particularly sluggish brute. And with a delicate roll she was on her feet again and now turned to bid her would be captors adieu with a coy wink.

A wink and a smile which very slowly and strangely left her face as she tried to make sense of the odd sensation she now felt in her chest. A horde of guardsmen panting heavily from the pursuit came into the courtyard but made no attempts to apprehend her. The reason why became painfully apparent when she moved to speak and nothing but a croak came from her lips. And she looked down at where all those around her were looking and saw what they saw, the tip of a jagged arrow protruding from her bosom, a small vibrant band of blood just now beginning to flow from the wound. She looked skyward and marveled that it was an unusually clear and beautiful day. The suns shone even brighter and moved even faster than normal. It now began to hurt, to throb as awareness rushed in and cradled her like a vice. What hurt more she thought was that she had failed and with her failure she had doomed her beloved Orlandia. No dear child, you have made the greatest difference this day said a voice in her head. Oh, I'm certainly near death now as even the heavens appear to be dancing and my mind plays tricks on me she thought. But it wasn't the suns moving at all and it was certainly no trick. The bright light that so entranced her began to take the shape of a bird and soon everyone saw it and realised it was the Phoenix that had been sighted so often as of late. The fiery creature let out a cry as several bowmen released a barrage of arrows that all found their mark. The young girl crumpled to her knees pierced by the multitude. Tears now welled in her eyes as the Phoenix drew down on the courtyard and swept in low on the end farthest from where she had fallen. Strength child she heard as she met the birds gaze and trembling stood upright once more lifting the staff with great effort above her head. It was everything she had to give and it was just enough. The Phoenix grasped the staff in it's claws as it swept past and fled sharply skyward though it spared one final glance back. Just in time to see the young girl fall for the last time.
When news of the days events reached the Emperor he grew enraged to a degree none had ever seen. A piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. The Anarchs knew the secret and were now closer than ever to releasing it. He spat and cursed and screamed the name "Khaz'radan!"

SoO 3 - Chapter 2

Swords of Orlandia 3: The Khaz'Radan Prophecy
Chapter 2 - "Lost and Found"

The word was out...or more specifically words. The text fire branded on the Prophecy Stones, as many were now calling them, spread from town to town far and wide and back again.

Two Kingdoms join and stand to Fight,
A Darkened Prince reborn by Light.
A King will rise and claim the Crown
When the one Pure Heart strikes Evil down!

Both child and elder alike would whisper them and smile. No one knew for sure what they meant but for now they meant maybe, just maybe life in Orlandia might one day be bright again. Ever since the Emperor had risen to power the land had become a dismal, dank and nearly dead place. Those left after the scattering had barely been able to eek out the meekest of existences and as many returned over the course of the year it only meant more mouths to feed. So many had returned seeking justice and revenge only to find their homes destroyed, their crops ruined and their loved ones gone. With nothing left their spirits broke easily and they fell in line complacent and malleable sitting silent at the Emperor's feet. Even the Fae folk had not escaped the cruelty. Rivers had run dry, the breeze blew rancid, whole forests died. Orlandia's very heart had been pierced and each day bled out a bit more. The wounds were clear to see. But no one looked, with heads bowed they went about their seemingly endless days serving the tyrant seated on a stolen throne.

The rightful heir to that throne, under the powerful influence of the Emperor's dark magiks and his own youth-filled pride, remained oblivious to the plight of his people. No one since the dawn of history had ever turned such a blind eye as he. So it was then that this day seemed like any other day to the young prince Validus as he rode out of the city and into the countryside. He rode away from prying eyes and needy hands. What had happened to him? He used to care about these people, about Orlandia. But ever since the Emperor came and changed everything he just didn't. He had power, or at least all the power the Emperor allowed him. And he had fame. Yes, he had become quite famous for his new callous demeanor. In short he often wished to be anywhere but Orlandia and all of Orlandia wished the same. These rides always presented him a means of escape however brief. Perhaps he took after his father in more ways than one as the fallen, risen and now banished former Prince, Hesperus had often sought the solace of solitude himself.

Validus was deep into a darkened forest that, if he was honest with himself, he certainly didn't recognize. His mind had wandered but it was nothing. His orienteering was second to none, the twin suns of Orlandia rose above and to his right laying just over the Bastian Mountains. He might not know exactly where he was but he knew he was 3 or 4 leagues southeast of the capital and that was all he needed to know. "Nothing is new under the sun!" he cried out. Nothing is foreign, unfamiliar or unknown to me, he thought. A dry, dead wind blew past him carrying a handful of sad brown leaves. He felt a pang in his chest, he almost teared up...and that triggered a deep unsettling rage in the young prince. He screamed "Nothing! Nothing is hidden, nothing is sacred, I own and know all!!!" He paused and drew several labored breaths and was about to turn and head North when he heard laughter.

Laughter?!

"What a child you truly are! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" spoke a voice as if on the wind. He looked all round and truly he was alone and yet the words continued, chiding and mocking him. "Who's there?" he spat, visibly frustrated. "The woods" came the reply "And the hills and dales, the mountains and valleys. And most importantly the truth is here young one."

"Nonsense" cried Validus, "I'm to take advice from the winds now am I?"

"Better that than from he who sits on a throne of lies!" came the response. "Listen now to my words. Truly hear and heed them. An entire world is dying all around you and yet you do not feel a thing. Face your fears child and confront the darkness without...and within!"

Validus snapped back "Feh, what darkness? Perhaps it is you who is blind or frightened. Too scared to even show yourself to me!"


"Scared am I?" a deep voice thundered from right behind Validus who turned slowly to behold one of the most imposing figures he'd ever laid eyes on. Fully two heads taller than the Prince even on horseback with hands like boulders and shoulders that could have lifted an ox, or two, quite easily. Deep set eyes stared down at Validus from underneath two twisted horns, dark eyes full of purpose and intensity but also kindness. "My name is Auerelion, and I wish nothing more than to help you."



Validus sat stunned, staring at the goat-like legs of the satyr as he continued, "Our two worlds are suffering like never before but you have a chance to save them both. Kahz'radan is closer than ever. Kahz'radan is coming soon. Kahz'radan will pull back the veil and bring light to us all if we are but brave enough." Aurelion paused then and stood back allowing room for his words to work in the Prince's mind. As rage welled up behind the Prince’s visage and as his eyes traced upward to meet Aurelion's gaze his lips formed one single word as he drew his sword, “Monster!”

"No!" Aurelion snapped as he straightened and seemed to grow ever taller before batting the weapon away as if nothing. The shocked Prince sat terrified and was doing little to conceal that fact. His patience fleeting and his intent oh so clear Aurelion glared down at the boy and bellowed, "The real monster sits back in your capital with your father's crown upon his head and works tirelessly day after day to destroy everything that so many have given so much to procure. He is the monster, he is the greatest of the foul, he is the damnation of both our worlds and you are a damn fool!" And in that instant he was gone leaving a much disturbed young man perched precariously upon his mount. Validus had never felt so unsure of himself in his life. He had shared just a few words with Aurelion but those words had changed things. One word in particular stood out in his mind. Khaz'radan. That word he knew would change things forever.

SoO 3 - Chapter 1

Swords of Orlandia 3: The Khaz'Radan Prophecy
Chapter 1 - "The Beginning of the End"

The bright light shining ahead was the only thing keeping him going at this point. The Phoenix's cry rang out repeatedly as it's glow pierced the darkness of night all around and was a clear beacon as the runner pushed on and on and on towards any sanctuary he could find. Of course the trail was easy for the enemy to follow as well. And follow they did. As fast as he went they went faster. As far as he'd run they'd come just as far. And they were gaining. The howls of the Shadowfowl behind him sent chills down into his gut. But what he carried was too important to let fear stop him. It was just a small tarnished coin clutched tightly in his palm but Aurelion and the others had discovered that it was one of the ten artifacts needed to save, well, everything. He must succeed. For himself and the other Anarchs who were working tirelessly to usurp the evil Emperor. Indeed he must succeed for all Orlandia.

But they were close now, too close. The runner thought it almost humorous for a moment that he was going to die and when so many people, an entire kingdom, were counting on him. That couldn't happen could it? Light always defeated the dark...right? More cries from the mystical bird ahead and the maniacal beasts behind shook him from his introspection. It was useless to dream anyway. He had just emerged from the forest and into a wide clear plain. Nothing lay ahead for miles save for an odd rock formation. Two giant rocks actually, standing tall like a gateway with nothing but a small gap between. Not even big enough for a child to squeeze through. Two smooth obelisks, one small gap and nowhere to hide. He was dead and he knew it.

Or was he? The arrows that began to rain down on his position didn't allow him to ponder an answer. He fought for every breath now but what he saw ahead filled him with a new hope. The Phoenix had been encircling the strange rocks ever since he had come into the clearing as if signaling him. 'Silly bird' he thought to himself, 'where else would I have to run too?' But even as this thought passed he began to see the swirling fiery vortex created by the ever tightening course the Phoenix flew. And as it flew faster and faster the twin rocks began to tremble...and move! The runner was no more the 50 paces from the gap and that gap he now saw was widening. Big enough even for him to jump through arm's wide if he chose to do so...except that the gap had now filled with fire!

Fire! Nothing a Phoenix would balk at but for an ordinary human it seemed the bird had done no more than make his escape even more impossible...or had it? The Phoenix now flew back to the runner who was mere moments from the gap and began to cry out as it flew next to him in a parallel pace. The runner glanced over making eye contact with the beautiful creature and for a moment timed seemed to pause. And as he gazed into its otherworldly visage he grew calm and knew what he must do. With not a second to spare and with his pursuers at arms length behind he leaped into the flaming breech. And disappeared! The Phoenix shot skyward as the Shadowfowl stood dumbfounded even as one of their pack attempted to follow and was immediately destroyed. A last cry rang out as the Phoenix returned diving at the stunned throng and passed into the gap and disappeared as well. The flaming gateway behind it erupting in an explosion as it did so.

When the resulting flames died down and the smoke drifted away on the wind the Shadowfowl were shocked to see that the rocks themselves had been etched by the scorching blast. Words were now clearly visible, one sentence on each side of the now silent and cooling gap. "Two Kingdoms join and stand to Fight, a Darkened Prince reborn by Light" on one rock face and "A King will rise and claim the Crown when the one Pure Heart strikes Evil down" on the other. Dawn was coming and the Foul must flee, and flee they did, bringing the twin messages back to the Emperor whom appeared more than unsettled by the findings. Elsewhere, well hidden, Auerelion held the returned coin aloft for all those gathered to see. A cheer went up as he spoke "My friends, with this one of the sacred 10 in our hands we are one step closer to salvation. One step closer to freedom. One step closer...to Kahz'radan!"