Thu Dec 02, 2004 10:16 pm by Darkov
Ok guys, here's the next installment. Sorry it's been awhile but the world doesn't stop for writing much...
The burning sands of the Endless dunes were a far cry from the frosty north. Gone was the fur coat and the axe. Dalar, champion of the Utraean Peninsula strode down a slope in the mesa desert towards the open dunes. Tall and rangy, bald, and with a small blond goatee, Dalar was son of Darkov. Champions ran in their family. Where Darkov had slain the Seck leader Gom and sent him back to the abyss, Dalar had travelled to the mystery isle across from Ehb’s newest town, Arhok. After this, a desire to explore and go where few had gone before took hold of him. Mainly, he had wanted to head east. The Imperials fascinated him and when the Empire of the Stars had fallen into ruin, many independent states (e.g. Ehb) had sprung up around the continent of Aranna. He had been slowly heading east ever since the defeat of the Shadow-Jumper, touring each land and becoming familiar with it. He had been fighting north of the stone quarry in mountain bandit country when, after setting up camp in a cave he had returned to find a scroll by his possessions. He was immediately suspicious. The bandits were almost certainly all illiterate and this type of land was almost inhabitable, especially to those of a learned scholar type. It was a message from High Priest Cavaren of Hiroth, summoning him to Grescal immediately. Imperial mercenaries had landed on the very southern coast of the Utraean Peninsula.
Perspiration soaked Dalar as he sought refuge under a date tree. He started booting the tree and the dates came falling. He bent down to pick them up when he heard a soft shuffling. Thinking it was nothing, he continued sorting through the dates. He found a big one and raised it to his mouth and looked up into the jaws of a huge Impaler. He immediately rolled to the right to avoid it’s stinger and it came down with a shuunk.
He rolled straight into another one knocking it down and realised there were several surrounding him. He pulled a small knife from his back and flung it at the Impaler between him and his gear. It hit directly into it and the massive scorpion shuddered and died. Dalar sprinted towards his gear, grabbing his shield and sword and piling the rest in his backpack. The crowd had been attracting the rest of the denizens of the Mesa desert so he conjured a cyclone of fire and ran for it.
It was with some relief that he finally saw the bedraggled tents of Grescal through the hazy air. The sun was getting high in the sky and the temperature was rising rapidly. He stumbled into a tent and was almost immediately helped to a gourd of water. It wasn’t often Grescal had visitors. He drank deeply, got to his feet and moved outside…Then he saw them.
Two bronzed figures with dark curly hair stood talking a couple of metres away. Dalar immediately recognized them as foreigners. Their swords were curved and they had purple Imperial robes on, with a golden star shaped brooch. Their shields were of a curious rectangle shape. The old Imperial standard, a golden star above a black horizontal crescent on a purple background fluttered in a breeze in stark contrast to the familiar turquoise Legion one. One of them turned slightly and glanced at him. The other turned and they strode towards him. They spoke the same language, if not with a strange accent Dalar realised as one of them gestured at him.
After a brief conversation, they took him to a stocky man in loose blue robes and a thick black beard. He looked up at Dalar and began explaining why they were here
“Greetings comrade, my name is Sakhoum and I hail from once proud Illiyara…Much has changed since the Empire fell, and although what remains of it is a bickering oligarchy. We were sent on an exploration journey by Hialta, the warlord who has control over the south eastern coast. We travelled along the coast but the coasts between here and our homeland and barren and rocky. So we continued sailing until a powerful storm beached us on the very southern tip of this peninsula…these lava caverns. We trekked over them until we came to cliffs and from there the walk to here was easy. These deserts have nothing on the Plain of Tears.” He chuckled.
Dalar sat back with his arms folded.
“Most interesting…The western states have little or no seafaring skills and most time as been put to colonising the land.
Sakhoum nodded. “Well great champion, do you think your peninsula could spare you for awhile? Hialta has given orders for kingdom folk to be brought back to Seran Uul, the largest port city on the eastern coast.
Dalar clasped his hands together. “Very good, I should dearly love to explore our heritage and where my people have come from.”
Sakhoum stood up abruptly. “Good, then it is settled. Get some sleep now, our caravan will leave tomorrow and we have a long journey ahead of us.”
The trip had been hard going, almost 6 months through the unforgiving rocky passes and crags north of the Utraean Peninsula and then out into the barren wilderness of the Plain of Tears, where nothing survives for long. Dalar lay in the back of a cart, catching some rest under the cotton cover and watching the sun trying to shine through the threads. Already he had seen many different cultures and different states, some as powerful as Ehb, some scarred and burnt from raids but all tracing their lines back to the Empire of the Stars. Then he heard Sakhoum calling to him. He sat up and climbed out of the cart in time to see an ancient white stucco arch passing over him. The gates of Seran Uul.
Seran Uul, like most eastern cities was huge compared to the western towns. The sprawling city was filth infested though and plagues were not uncommon. As they passed the docks, hundreds of ship were moored up and it was clear that Seran Uul was a magnet for those scattered around the wilderness. People infested the ancient white buildings, which covered the cityscape, leaving only dirty, narrow alleys between them. Feral dogs and cats roamed the streets and the rooftops. The town militia, the personal mercenaries of the local warlord Hialta wore scarlet robes and turbans so that only their eyes were visible. Although the robes looked cumbersome, the guards seemed to move with the utmost agility. They carried huge halberds and created a gap in any crowd. One caught a glance at him and viewed him with utmost suspicion. No living person had seen a westerner in Seran Uul before and this certainly had to be one. He ran after the cart with some others and knocked Dalar off with the stock of his halberd. They hauled Dalar to his feet and rushed him off the main street and into a maze of alleyways and courtyards. Dalar desparately tried to glance back, he didn’t think Sakhoum had noticed him falling off. He tried to struggle out of the guards’ grip and they pushed him forward. He landed on a dusty courtyard and felt a hard thonk on the back of his head before everything went clichéish black…
"I don't see any god up here" -- Yuri Gagarin when he first entered orbit around the earth
