"Ancient Chinese proverb: One neighbor builds a fence. Two neighbors enjoy it"
-Heartcutter
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| Anger Not Thee Mages continuation of A Dark Shadowy Rescue Fantasy FAN FICTION | | | Author: | | | IP: | 208.54.2XXXX | | Date: | 11/16/02 02:11 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 0, Max: , Min:
Lifetime Rating for The Wise One: 3.6667 | |
Anger Not Thee Mages
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Anger Not Thee Mages<br>
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Silhouetted against the night sky, the great castle-like fortress stood. Its massive ramparts rose high above the line of sight. Looking ahead Divean could see the massive gateposts protruding upward as great iron columns. Do to his short gnomic stature they appeared to be much higher than they were. He knew his destination was finally near. As he trudged on to end his journey his thoughts collected. He had been one of the several hundred gnomes and orcs who had slaughtered the lightly fortified village of Rhodes. There they had searched the home and body of Bronan Bronsmoore, king of Alastole, capitol and supreme fortress of the realm of men. How foolish the pathetic mortals had been thinking their king was safe in this village. However, the great talisman they sought, that was supposedly a amulet capable of great powers, held by the kings of Alastole, was not found on his body, in his home, or anywhere in the village for that matter. So the orc chieftain leading this rampage had selected ten gnomes, Divean being one of them, to safely transport Bronan's only son and heir to the throne, to Levinsgard, the dark fortress of the evil arch mage Zachor, their master. While, the chieftain led the rest to the outskirts of Alastole to assist a bigger force in a major siege against the capitol.
Divean recalled these events with evil glee and satisfaction. Then, it had happened, an event that had left him horror-stricken. Three days into the trek to Levinsgard catastrophe had struck in the form of a lone warrior that had struck down the other nine gnomes like a fatal, dark shadow of doom. He couldn't believe himself as he had fled like a coward. The thought made him sick to his stomach. All through his journey to Levinsgard to relate these unfortunate events to his master, he had undergone terrible thoughts and dreams. Fear that this dark avenger would give chase to him mixed with worries of what his master would do when he heard of his cowardliness, infested his brain. Entangling his thought pattern as a web of fear and confusion, driving him to near insanity. Now there was no turning back, he trudged forward to the gate.
After he identified himself to the two orcs in front of the gate standing guard. Several more joined them cutting the draw rope and lifting the gate open. Entering the fortress the air was stale and rotten but this smell was appealing to Divean as well as the other gnomes and orcs. The ground was black with charcoal. For, before the fortress had been built the corrupted arch mage had ordered the orcs clear the fortress site and many square miles around. All the trees and other vegetation around had been set ablaze; any remaining trees had been cut down, all roots pulled as well. Then, salt collected from the depths of the oceans had been spread over the site to prevent any future growth of vegetation. Leaving the whole around and inside area of the fortress stained black with a glint of evil.
Divean trudged forward into the inner depths of the stronghold. Torchlight could be seen everywhere, small firefly like flickers of light. Here thousands of gnomes camped spread across the empty landscape. Hordes of orcs could also be seen as well standing up white fangs glistening in the dark as their fowl, dirt-infested, greasy strands of hair wobbled over their dark green faces. For these barbaric creatures sleep was not necessary. Ignoring all of this, Divean scooted past to his goal. The dark tower was in the center of the fortress standing on top of a large black rock formation. Slowly he pushed his way up the long stone stair passage ascending toward the tower. Upon arriving on top he told the orc guard of the urgent news he had for Zachor. Who, in turn opened the thick iron door signaling him in.
After navigating the many stairs and walkways he found his way to Zachor's personal courtiers. Lightly he tapped on the door trying to prevent himself from angering Zachor at all costs. A stern voice told him to come in. The robed figure of Zachor was found hunched over a desk studying his scrolls in deep concentration. He immediately turned to face Divean. "Well what brings a common gnome to my courtiers?" "What is so important that your entry into my private tower was allowed?" "Answer me!" He demanded a hint of irritation in his voice. Divean cowered down; a look of fear mirrored his eyes as he wished he had never come here.
Finally, he regained his voice and related the whole story to the mage stuttering and stumbling over the words the whole way through it. "Hmm this is indeed an interesting tell." "I figure I know exactly where the stranger will be taking him." "Do you know who he is, master?" Divean wanted to know. "Yes, Gerald Rex that fool always meddling in affairs where his nose does not belong." "If I hurry I can have them cut off before they reach Alastole." "The capitol of the realm of men must fall, and I can not have Rex's battle expertise assisting them against the siege." Then he stomped his foot in anger, "And that blasted prince could have the information I need on the location of that amulet."
Calming down a bit he turned to face Divean a short smirk slowly forming on his face. "Now tell me," he said slowly as he moved toward the terror stricken gnome. "What were you thinking when you ran into the woods instead of facing your adversary and fighting to the end like the hardened, emotionless warrior you were trained to be?" Divean tried to give an answer but the words hung lumped and knotted inside his throat, useless to his defense. Slowly he managed to slip out a weak answer, "Have pity on me O Great One!" "It would have been suicide!" he cried in dismay. Then Zachor rose his body seemed to glow in a white radiance. Eyes turned white, he towered over the gnome his menacing form filled with power lightening streaking through his fingertips. "Let it be known to all," he roared, "I do not allow cowardliness in my ranks!" "Please, please mercy good master," Divean whimpered as he stared upon Zachor in mixed fear and awe. "Mercy is for the weak," was the agonizing answer.
With that Zachor pointed his hand at Divean, its presence gnarled wickedly in the likeness of a threatening beast. Thrusting his hand forward he took a psychic hold over the gnome throwing him forcefully against the wall. The collision jarred his skull slightly, cracking it; blood spurted freely from the wound although it was not yet fatal. The gnome hung freely, barely conscious, an invisible force holding him airborne against the wall. Coils from an unseen power wrapped tightly about his body squeezing his life out. Then, slowly Zachor's hand began to close, more pressure pushed against the gnome's body. Finally, as the hand completed its closing, his body ripped apart, exploding into a spray of blood.
Thus, was the price for his cowardliness. |
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