Offspring of Nobility

[Kalon Ordona II]

Welcome to the archive of my role-play characters! Here you will be able to get to know the previous and current manifestations of my persona, and in so doing, you will no doubt learn more about the real me. In addition, I hope you will enjoy seeing the history of my development as both a writer and a role-player.

Come one and all, and see the progeny of my imagination!



(formerly Linkallon Huorníth)

Calanon Ordoronath began as an equivalent of Link from the Legend of Zelda, as if he were an elf of Middle-earth. My take on the idea was easily the most detailed by far compared to anything else I could find elsewhere on the internet at the time. There is more even than what I am sharing here.
The character's former name, Linkallon Huorníth, was my persona during the days of the development of Middle-earth Online (which ended up as Lord of the Rings Online after Turbine took over). I was part of a kinship known as the Mithril Knights of Evendim, and it was there that I got my start at forum role-playing.
Linkallon Huorníth--now Calanon Ordoronath--will always have a special place in my heart.

In addition to this story, I have an alternate version that I began a few years after I made this one. It fits better into the lore of Middle-earth, and yet I eventually abandoned that project as well. I may pick it up again at a later date, or I may not. We'll have to see.

The tale of Calanon Ordoronath begins with the story of his father, Linkûhir Huortaur. This story is a Middle-earth re-telling of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.
Tale of Linkûhir Huortaur ~ by Michael Rasmussen, circa 2004

The first part of the tale of Calanon Ordoronath himself (previously Linkallon Huorníth) is partly a re-telling of The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker.
Tale of Linkallon Huorníth, Part I ~ by Michael Rasmussen, circa 2004

The second part of the tale of Calanon Ordoronath is more an original work.
Tale of Linkallon Huorníth, Part II ~ by Michael Rasmussen, circa 2004



Morikoru Seregond is an Avari, meant to be a sort of rival or antithesis for Linkallon Huorníth (Calanon Ordoronath). Unfortunately, the role-play he was made for never got off the ground.
Tale of Morikoru Seregond ~ by Michael Rasmussen, circa 2005



The advent of the name Kalon Ordona II, these characters were created at a Zelda fan forum still barely in existence. The place is called The Zelda Fort. The characters were made for a role-play set, perhaps surprisingly, in an original world completely unrelated to Hyrule.

You may notice that the appearance of Prince Kalon is somewhat similar to my current avatar. The idea of putting mithril armor on Link came sometime between my days role-playing Linkallon Huorníth and here, creating Kalon Ordona II. The resulting image was to be the germ that generated my craft of creating custom character portraits from Fire Emblem character sheets. A true milestone in my development, not only as a role-player, but also as an artist.
In case anyone is curious, the formula for the image goes: Link + Oscar + MS Paint = Kalon.
Profiles of Kalon and Faron ~ by Michael Rasmussen, June 25th, 2007



The Mokoru Thieves were part of an extremely advanced role-play on GaiaOnline. The guild in general moves very slowly, but they are extremely literate; they are the Fellowship of Finished Roleplayers, or FeFiRo for short.
Unfortunately, my characters never had the chance to make much of an impact on the story, mostly because the role-play moved so slowly in the first place.
Morgon Mokoru, Shana, and Tahlan ~ by Michael Rasmussen, 2008



This character was part of a Fire Emblem role-play. This role-play taught me a lot about role-playing itself. Unfortunately, the role-play died soon after I joined it. I was not experienced enough at the time to realize that the role-play was almost dead already when I joined it.

In addition to Faron Mokoru, I also crafted a side character, a mage called Saphan. While Saphan played only a minor role, his appearance was one of the first custom Fire Emblem character portraits I ever made. You all here at FOG now see the end result of this in the form of Kalon's Portrait Studio.
Profile of Faron Mokoru ~ by Michael Rasmussen, June 2008



Valder is part of a role-play that started back at the beginning of August 2008. It is the first role-play I have ever hosted, and it is also the first project in which I have used heavily the custom Fire Emblem character portraits I make.

The story concerns five young people on a mission to overthrow a pair of corrupt and secretively malicious barons who took over the land of Va'or after the King's death. The story quickly escalates, however, becoming a much larger scale struggle. The great part about this role-play--I think--is that its title, Requiem Va'or, blatantly foretells the land's destruction. The result is a complex plot and loads of heavy inner struggle.

Having played him for so long, Valder has become one of my most loved characters.
Profile of Valder Karuthain ~ by Michael Rasmussen, July 2008



Also on GaiaOnline, this character is a milestone in the development of my alter ego, Kalon Ordona II. The appearance of this character was drawn and colored by me, as a realistic version of my Gaia avatar. The character has many traits of myself in him, as many or most of my characters naturally do, but with this one I feel perhaps a deeper connection.
The role-play I made this character for has since withered, thanks to the leader's long periods of inactivity. Still, the character had a good run while the role-play lasted.
Profile of Kalon Ordona II ~ by Michael Rasmussen, August 2008



This character was a lot of fun for me to play. I enjoy languages and exploring new things; playing a male nymph was a blast. Part of my goal with this character was to experiment with one of my languages and to have fun with the resulting accent when the character tries to speak the common tongue.

The role-play he is from, on GaiaOnline, was called City of New Hope. It started as one of the more enjoyable role-plays I'd ever participated in. Unfortunately, the role-play was ruined by a couple of horrible players that were allowed to join. The major offender was playing a 13-year-old assassin/mage, and her posts often bordered comprised near god-moding. I often wonder how the story might otherwise have progressed.

At least I got to have a lot of fun with the character and the language before it ended. Note to self: nymphs are awesome.
Profile of Chälan Urduna ~ by Michael Rasmussen, December 2008



Dalzughorond and Meruzhengra (Dalin and Merin) were my first ever dwarf role-play characters, created for the same role-play as my nymph, Chälan Urdhuna, in City of New Hope. Their appearance is ripped from a drawing I'd made previously.

These two were also quite enjoyable to play. A sort of comic relief, they were always loving on each other while at the same time being tough or shrewd or generally dwarf-like. Perhaps some time in the future I'll play them again.
Profile of Dalin and Merin ~ by Michael Rasmussen, December 2008



The name Kalus Koune is taken from the name of a gryphon--Kaluskoune--from my novel. Very handy, being able to rip of your own work, hehe. This role-play--The Artifact War--was a GaiaOnline guild with a battle system. The premise was that a bunch of worlds in the universe had been destroyed, and the Artifacts from those worlds were appearing on Earth. I took full advantage of the setting to create another Zelda almost-fanfiction. Kalus's Artifact was actually supposed to be the Triforce itself, which had morphed into the Arc of Light in order to travel quickly through space. Naturally, it is seeking the next Link. Kalus was the one person on Earth who most fit the bill for the new Hero, and so he was chosen. I cannot begin to express how much fun this was. I've included an illustrative excerpt. The role-play even lasted quite a while before the guild eventually stopped, due to the main guy's disappearance.
Profile of Kalus Koune ~ by Michael Rasmussen, February 2009



Morgon Vergal Seregond Navargus Urdhûna, the great King of Rothe. This character was created to fill a spot in another GaiaOnline role-play. The plot was supposed to follow a rebellion of Lodias (elves, winged folk, werefolk, centaurs, etc.) against the encroaching Human lands. Morgon was the king of Rothe, the largest human territory, and the one most against the Lodias, or "sub-humans." My take on the king was of a man who did what he thought was right, but whose passion had been misdirected by the evil Adviser who had served his father. Most enjoyable.
Profile of King Morgon ~ by Michael Rasmussen, April 2009



The name Saphod was originally used in my role-play Tales of Inari: Requiem Va'or. In that story he was a mini-villain. Now, with a slight modification in appearance, he is a noble elven slave. Or was. Saphod was part of the same role-play as King Morgon. In fact, he was the king's personal attendant. The role-play seems to have died, though there is still the slight possibility that it could resurrect. His conflicted state--seeing good in both Humans and Lodias--was great fun to play. In addition, I got to do a lot of Drow translating, since this was used as the Lodias language.
Profile of Saphod ~ by Michael Rasmussen, April 2009



The name Mokoru was recycled from Morgon Mokoru of The Mokoru Thieves, as was the base of his appearance. I added the two Were forms from Google images; I especially love the growling black wolf. My plan for this character was to make him subdued, almost depressed, because of how long he has been searching for his lost childhood love. There was a lot of emotion under the surface. I greatly enjoyed developing the character. Mokoru is from the same role-play as King Morgon and Saphod.
Profile of Mokoru ~ by Michael Rasmussen, April 2009



A second character bearing the name Kalus Koune. This Kalus is nicknamed "the Golden Gryphon" not because of a magical golden Artifact, but because he is a Gryphon Knight, wearing golden armor, riding a literal gryphon. The role-play he is from, Tales of Riv'nar: The Chosen, was originally on GaiaOnline but was moved here to FOG along with its host--some of you may recall Tkwiget.
Playing a proud knight as Kalus Koune was great. Adventurous, noble-hearted, and having a wonderful bond with Aron, the gryphon. I was quite sad when the role-play fell by the wayside, following Tkwiget's disappearance.
Profile of Kalus and Aron ~ by Michael Rasmussen, May 2009



I wish so much that this GaiaOnline role-play had lasted long enough for me to post more than three times. Alas, it just... died, almost inexplicably. I LOVED this character. Archsage Gedric Tanager, an almost villainous persona. Perhaps someday I will be able to bring him back. In a way I have, in the character Gado Tanager, but it is not the same. We'll have to wait and see if the old Archsage makes another appearance. I hope he does.

On the plus side, the failure of this role-play was the final straw that pushed me here, to FOG. A thousand huzzahs for the FOG!
Profile of Gedric Tanager ~ by Michael Rasmussen, June 2009



Many of you may already know Áirhath. He is one of my characters in my currently active, Advanced, FOG role-play, Sephiris: The Price of Peace. There is not much to say about him yet, since the character still has a lot of development ahead of him. Still, the name Áirhath Aeryän is a completely new one from me, and the character and culture he belongs to both show extraordinary potential.
Profile of Áirhath Aeryän ~ by Michael Rasmussen, July 21st, 2009



Narcissism is always so very fun to play. Add extreme beauty and sensuality--plus a touch of wild anmbition--and you have a female dragon, a Sehra-sithred Khandrar, named S'harahe. These anthropomorphic dragons were ripped almost straight out of the concepts for my novel, but they have grown into a new culture in their own right. S'harahe is a character with a lot of promise. I am quite sure there are great things in store for her--lots of great role-playing ahead in Sephiris: The Price of Peace. I'm looking forward to it.
Profile of S'harahe ~ by Michael Rasmussen, July 26th, 2009



"Old Finch" Tanager. Also from Sephiris: The Price of Peace, Gado is one of the first really 'old' characters I've played. Should be very interesting; I like him already. I stole the name Gado from the Bloody Roar video game series. Gado was the lion; I love the resulting contradictory image of a male lion and a tiny, bright-colored bird--and what that might say about the character. Fun stuff.
Profile of Gado Tanager ~ by Michael Rasmussen, August 5th, 2009



Elenda the Strong, Dame Knight of the Kingdom of Mandor. Elenda is the first major female character I've ever played. She stars in a new RP of mine, Errands of Mandor: Dragons Rising, on GaiaOnline. As many may rightly guess, I reused the name Mandor from a location in Sephiris: The Price of Peace. Errands of Mandor is a more casual RP for me, especially since the literacy standards are more lax. I still plan on giving it my all, however, and I've had a lot of fun so far going crazy with the presentation of the RP. It's a veritable work of art. I can't wait to see how the story and character develops.
Profile of Dame Elenda ~ by Michael Rasmussen, December 2009

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These are characters that have more or less been lost to the mysterious reaches of uncharted cyberspace. In most cases, I foolishly did not keep records of the characters before the sites they existed in became obsolete. Some, however, simply have no character profile to display. In many ways, these 'other' characters are just as important to me as the more primary ones listed above.


Knil Dûn was an apprentice Jedi who never got the chance to take the trials, because of Order 66. Silver-eyed and noble, Dûn wielded a yellow lightsaber staff. This was my first sci-fi character. I'm a Star Wars fan, so the role-play was most enjoyable, even though the role-play unfortunately lasted no more than about ten posts per player. I've always liked Kel Dor, so this character was great fun to play. Knil Dûn was created during my time with the Mithril Knights of Evendim.


Gebûnta is a Dug, like Sebulba from Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. Tough and out of his luck, Gebûnta stayed on top of things by racing swoop bikes on Taris. This role-play was set during the Mandalorian Wars. It was fun while it lasted, though we never really got into the actual plot. Whatever the GM had been planning, the RP died before it could start. Gebûnta was created shortly after Knil Dûn's role-play died.


The concept of Søren's role-play was a mix of X-men, Hellboy, and 'The League of Shadows' from Batman Begins. It was a sort of "we are the ones who 'bump' back" type of thing. Søren was one with the power of "Storm." He could manipulate the weather. He also had a sword that could receive, charge, and release lightning. This role-play also died almost right after it got started. On the plus side, though, I got to use some of my own clothes as inspiration for his outfit, when I drew a picture of him. (His gloved hand is supposed to be on a wall, like in an alley or something. His right sleeves are ripped up because of the lightning. The coat is almost exactly like one of mine.)
Another fun character to play. Søren was created toward the end of my time with the Mithril Knights of Evendim.


Set long after World War III, this GaiaOnline role-play took place upon Atlantis II, a special facility located in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. The place boasted an almost utopian atmosphere, but everyone suspects that it is more than it seems. Kalon Koume, codename Red-Eye, was an espionage operative who, among others from different political entities, was sent to infiltrate the supposedly impenetrable security of the main Atlantis II headquarters. This role-play unfortunately died before anyone was able to go near the headquarters. Kalon Koume's cyborg eye was an enjoyable element, especially since it was slightly out of date and so crudely put in several years before as a result of a freak non-fatal bullet wound through one eye. I even made a custom Gaia avatar for him, which then turned into a better version, which inspired me to draw it on paper. Here's the image. This character was one of the first ones I created on GaiaOnline.


This was a comical villain made for a role-play called Evil Prevails, hosted by Alphariusthemad on GaiaOnline. The role-play died and was deleted, but it was probably the most fun I've ever had in a role-play. It just goes to show: it's fun to play villains. My character was a dignified elf wizard whose life was ruined when he absentmindedly washed his hair in the princess's royal basin. As punishment, his hair was turned purple. The poor wizard's career, lifestyle, and pride were taken away in a single moment. He cut his hair short, and over the next hundred years or so, he eventually went somewhat mad searching far and wide for a cure. Eventually, of course, he grew bitter and became a villain--somewhat blundering, eccentric and almost childlike, but a villain nonetheless. I have since forgotten the character's name, and though I wrack my brains from time to time, I have never succeeded in remembering. The character was created around the same time as Faron Mokoru.


Calanon is one of my favorite characters. He is currently in an active one-on-one role-play here at FOG. Since he lacks a profile, he appears here among my 'other' characters. This one-on-one is between myself and Eternity. The role-play, called Aura: Daughter of Light concerns the daughter of a goddess who is trapped in human form. She runs into trouble in a forest one day, and would have perished had not Calanon the elf appeared to rescue her unconscious form from the shadow creatures. Wonder and intrigue ensue, as the pair begin a dangerous journey to the four corners of the continent, seeking the four Elementals who are the source of a wizard's power, to find a way for Aura to regain her immortality.
Here is an image I drew of them, walking along a wide path (and in color). The unicorn-like creature is one of my own invention, called a pantor. Calanon, again, is definitely one of my favorite characters to date.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Here follows the Account of Linkallon Huorníth, compiled from various sources (such as the History of Hyarrûl and the personal memoirs of Linkallon himself) by Menveru Erasmusiôn (Michael Rasmussen). The compiler’s personal note is recorded below:

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=== I have tried to give as accurate an accounting as possible, using what limited resources I had available to me. Much of what was once common knowledge to the people of Tolfalas is now mere legend, and it has been difficult to sort out the inaccuracies that so frequently occurred during the endeavor.
=== I happened upon the Memoirs of Linkallon Huorníth quite by chance, as they were given to me spontaneously by an old friend who was skilled in ancient lore. I must also give credit to the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, which have given many clues and sorted out many doubts as to the truthfulness of some of the tales which I have acquired.
=== As to the account itself, I have had to start before the actual life of Linkallon, beginning with the tale of his father, Linkûhir Huortaur. The main reason is that Linkûhir is one of the great heroes of the kingdom of Hyarrûl, the place that Linkallon ever held in his heart as his true home, and Linkûhir carries an essential part in the events that took place.
=== Obviously this is by no means the complete accounting of all the adventures of Linkûhir or Linkallon, but you will find very few who know even a fraction of all the particulars which are set down between these pages, let alone the rest of the tale.
=== The History of Hyarrûl I have also restored, to the best of my ability, and many details concerning that kingdom are there. I am afraid, however, that prior to the writings of said J.R.R. Tolkien, the memory of Hyarrûl had all but disappeared from the world. As a result, many inaccuracies may still exist within the account.

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=== Linnoníth Huortaur was born 1523 years before the Rising of the Moon, not far past the beginning of the Hyarrûlian Wars. His mother, an elf of the Zerain, feared for his life, for the Garodo Thieves had begun their raids under the command of Gaen’Dûr Togwaur. Even had the child survived the raids, she wished not that he be raised amid the constant fighting and bloodshed all around during the Wars. So she took her child to the Chieftain of the Kokarin Wood-elves, in the Lost Woods.
=== The young one was raised as a wood-elf archer, and even at an early age he showed great mastery of the famous Dekû Bows that were made there. After a challenge was presented him by Mido, a good friend, Linnoníth competed against many of the finest archers in Dekûtawar. When none could best him, the Chieftain named him Linkûhir: Bowmaster.
=== During the Hyarrûlian Wars, Linkûhir lead a band of archers to offer assistance to random persons or groups who were in need. They accomplished much, but were little known at first, for Linkûhir thought it wise not to openly reveal themselves, lest the enemy learn of them and send armies to attack the peaceful Kekeri.
=== When the Wars ended, and the King of Hyarrûl reigned in his palace, the Kekeri were among the first to offer their allegiance. And for a time Linkûhir rested from his battles.

=== One day, Navi Caladiel, who they say had studied under Rawrui, the Great Sage of Light, came to Linkûhir with a message from the Chieftain. They ran to the Great Dekû Tree, where the Chieftain revealed his plight. It seemed a great curse was laid upon him by Gaen’Dûr Togwaur, in an attempt to force the Chieftain to release the Kokari Emerald to him. The curse was now spreading through the rest of the forest, a phenomenon that was triggered by an evil monster that had entered the Great Dekû Tree. Goemha was its name. Very terrible it was: insect-like, and at least 20 times the size of any elf in Dekûtawar. Already the Tree was filling with its hatchlings, which grew with astonishing speed. Linkûhir was dealt the task of freeing the Great Dekû Tree from the menace. A daunting mission, to be sure.
=== Once inside the Dekû Tree, Linkûhir and Navi stood silent in awe of the wondrous sights all around them. The Tree appeared to be hollowed out and filled with pathways, large corridors, and vast, wide chambers. Vines grew beautifully all over the walls of the Tree, and here and there a flower had sprouted. Had Linkûhir come there before, (This would have been very difficult, for the inside of the Dekû Tree was allowed only to the makers of the Dekû Bows, and the entrance was secret. It was the Chieftain who directed them to it.) he could have enjoyed the place very much, but now there were pressing matters.
=== Linkûhir and Navi went onward, choosing pathways that seemed to lead downward. However, this soon proved a difficult undertaking in itself, because oftentimes the paths would lead down and then up, taking them even higher than where they had started. This went on for a long while, and every path they chose seemed to lead them astray.
=== By the time the paths led them almost to the ceiling, they were thoroughly frustrated. But just then Navi noticed something they’d overlooked all this time. Far down, but not as far as the entrance, in the middle of the Tree, was a plateau of sorts with a pit in the very middle of it. The top of the pit seemed to be covered by an innumerable amount of sticky threads, almost the kind you’d expect a giant spider to weave. (I daresay thoughts of Ungoliant the Terrible would have shot into your mind, had you been there.)
=== Linkûhir gazed down at it. He thought he could see a chamber not far below the web. They decided to jump. They landed on the web, but were not caught in it. It stretched and stretched as they fell further down. Then every thread broke apart, leaving Linkûhir and Navi to free-fall the remaining length of the hollow. It did not prove harmful, however, for the floors of the chamber below were soft and spongy, like wet, rotted wood.

=== Inside the chamber was a doorway, leading to a long, wide corridor. This they followed for some time, and soon after it rapidly descended. They were below ground now, and they could see many of the roots in the sides of the great tunnel. The pit and the tunnel, they assumed, was dug out by the same monster they were hunting. At the end of the tunnel there was another chamber, much larger than the previous one.
=== Linkûhir sensed something above them. He looked up. There! There were three large insect-like creatures clinging to the ceiling. As soon as the things were seen, they dropped to the floor and prepared to attack. But Linkûhir was quick with his bow, and soon they each had an arrow in their bodies.
=== There they lay, dead and motionless. Navi wished to examine them, in hopes of finding a weak spot. She did not find what she was looking for, yet she noticed that the area around the eye was quite tender. Linkûhir grew anxious; for some reason he did not like just standing there.
=== They went to the far end of the chamber, where the tunnel continued. After a while they came to another place, larger still by far than one before. It was completely dark; an eerie mist covered the floor, and there was a foul stench in the thick air. Linkûhir and Navi looked around. Linkûhir saw small spot of red near what he guessed was the ceiling of the room. Slowly Linkûhir nocked an arrow and released it at the vague target.
=== When the shot hit its mark, the red light immediately went out, and a horrible screech echoed through the wide hall. Then suddenly the light reappeared, but much larger, and the light spread everywhere, so that soon Linkûhir and Navi could see the creature for what it was. It was Goemha, a giant spider-like thing with six great legs and hard skin.

=== Goemha charged at its attacker, and stabbed at him with its menacing limbs. But Navi was too quick for him. She cast a spell of light at the monster, direct in the eye. Goemha went screeching back to the far wall and onto the ceiling again, and Linkûhir shot its eye with another arrow. Then the monster let out a much louder scream that called many of its hatchlings to aid the battle against “Light” and “Sting.”
=== Many answered the call, and Linkûhir and Navi were hard pressed to hold them at bay. The creatures came at them without ceasing. But at length, with Linkûhir’s bow and Navi’s spells, they were all slain.
=== After that Goemha was not much further trouble, relatively, at least until Linkûhir began to run short of arrows. With his last shot he sent the fiend to the ground, where he drew his daggers and slashed at the beast until it was dead. Then all went dark and silent again.
=== Linkûhir and Navi made their way back up through the tunnels, until they came to the hollow under the pit. This they found some difficulty climbing out of, for what few vines were there were weak and frail from Goemha’s digging. But at last they were out.
=== Linkûhir had freed the Great Dekû Tree, yet the curse upon the Kokari Chieftain would prove fatal. Before his passing, the Chieftain gave the Kokari Emerald to Linkûhir, and charged him to go to Hyarrûl Palace, in the northernmost corner of the land. There, he said, Linkûhir was to bring the Kokari Emerald to Princess Zildae, who was waiting for the “messenger from the forest” to come. So Linkûhir went to Hyarrûl Palace, while Navi stayed behind to look after the Chieftain the best she could.

=== Linkûhir rode hard for days, only stopping here for a few hours of sleep, or there to water his horse. He reached the City under the Palace in ten days. When he came to the palace gates, he announced himself to the sentry. Once the guards heard his errand, they made haste and opened the great doors. Once Linkûhir was inside, the sentry directed him to a small courtyard, where the Princess had often been found of late.
=== Linkûhir found her standing at the far end of the courtyard, gazing into a small (and probably secret) window that apparently opened into the King’s throne room. As he approached, the Princess turned round and immediately knew why he was there. They introduced themselves, and talked long of matters pressing on Princess Zildae’s mind. She told Linkûhir of a dream she had one year before, of a dark cloud that came and spread itself across the whole of Hyarrûl; it was very terrible. Then she saw a beam of light that shone bright and clear through the storm, and there appeared in the light a messenger from the forest, who would bring a relic of the Kekeri to her.
=== After the long tale, Zildae brought Linkûhir to the small window where she had been, and bade him look for a large, grim figure at the King’s side. His name was Gaen’Dûr Togwaur. He was advisor to the King of Hyarrûl, who had been appointed after the ending of the Hyarrûlian Wars, for it had pleased him that the Garodo Thieves were allied with the monarchy, and was subject to his will. All the kingdom trusted Gaen’Dûr, except for the Princess, for she suspected him of desiring the Triforce, which had been sealed inside the Sacred Realm.
=== Actually, Gaen’Dûr was a necromancer who had taken leadership of the Garodo before the Hyarrûlian Wars, and he had since been proclaimed their King of Thieves. But his dark arts were known to none as of yet, not even the Garodo.
=== At length the Princess asked what message the Chieftain had sent. Linkûhir then brought out the Kokari Emerald. It was very beautiful, and it shone its green light far upon the high walls surrounding the courtyard. At last Zildae knew what her dream meant. She and Linkûhir talked long about her plan, but here is presented a simpler rendering.
=== The Kokari Emerald was one of the four relics of peace that were the keys to Annon Lûiar, the great Door of Time, which opened to the outer entrance into the Sacred Realm. Princess Zildae possessed the Ocarina of Time, the magical instrument that was the relic of Arnost Hyarrûl. To open the Door, one needed all four relics. The other two were the Curon Ruby and the Zora Sapphire. Linkûhir was to go to the Cyryn and the Zerain, and obtain these relics from them. Zildae gave him a letter to present to the leaders of each clan, which would explain the great need to them. Zildae kept the Ocarina, and returned the Kokari Emerald to Linkûhir. When they possessed all four keys, they would be able to open Annon Lûiar and protect the Triforce before Gaen’Dûr could reach it.
=== Zildae called for her attendant, Impadae, and told her to escort Linkûhir safely out of the castle to begin his quest. She told Linkûhir to make haste, for it was only a matter of time before Gaen’Dûr would become aware.

=== Linkûhir set out in the direction of the Echoriath. He was going to the Cyryn to present the letter Princess Zildae had written. He had traveled many days when Navi quite unexpectedly rode up to him, bringing another horse alongside her. Magnificent and beautiful it was. Navi explained that the Chieftain had died, and before his passing he had given to Linkûhir one of the maeras. Linkûhir marveled. She was red as wine with a snow-white mane and tail, and was lovelier and more graceful than any other that Linkûhir had ever seen.
=== Since the Chieftain was gone, Navi had rejoined her friend to assist him in whatever he had gotten himself into. Linkûhir explained the quest to her, and the next morning they rode on to the great mountains ahead of them.
=== Linkûhir and Navi had been riding hard for days. From the base of the Echoriath, the two made their way toward Death Mountain, one of the major settlements of the Curon Dwarves. In those days, the dwarves lived in friendship with the elves, and made many weapons for them, being masters of the craft.
=== Linkûhir and Navi climbed the mountains, until they came to Curon City. They had found that the roads to the city were completely deserted. Linkûhir asked many of the dwarves where to find the leader of the Cyryn. Darurin was his name, and he welcomed these two messengers from the Palace of Hyarrûl. After reading the letter from Princess Zildae Araniel, Darurin agreed to entrust the Curon Ruby to Linkûhir. But there was a grave complication.
=== Deep within the mines of the dwarves, a dark menace had been awoken. They delved too deep in search of the brilliant rubies found under Death Mountain, and had disturbed a slumbering dragon in the depths. Ôlfaegiâ was the name of it. The mines were soon rendered useless, and none dared enter the place while the beast within remained. Ôlfaegiâ now hoarded all the treasure in the mines to himself, and amid the spoil was the Curon Ruby itself!
=== Darurin, however fearful and reluctant, led Linkûhir into Death Mountain crater, where lay the entrance into the mines. He told Linkûhir and Navi the only known way, perilous though it was, to hope to defeat the great foe. Far inside the mountain was a chamber housing the ancient weapon of Darmani Hammerhand, who once lifted his bludgeon against more than three hundred fierce goblins and prevailed. He was one of the great heroes of the Cyryn, but that was a long time ago. Darurin gave Linkûhir a map to the chamber, and warned them, when they confronted Ôlfaegiâ, never to look in his eyes, for it is said that a dragon-spell will drive you insane, unless you tell all that it wishes from you. The gaze of a dragon is hypnotizing, and its breath is as hot as the fiery mountain of the Black Land.

=== So Linkûhir and Navi went into the mines of the dwarves. The way went down sharply for a great length. The map guided them to the chamber Darurin spoke of, but no further. Down, down, down, they went, until at last they reached the room. At the far end was a great chest under a mystic blue light. Inside was the Club of the Hammerhand, wrought of mithril and iron, and set with bright gems. It was stained thick with goblins’ blood.
=== From there the way was far more difficult. Without a map, Linkûhir and Navi found it nearly impossible to find the right path, and they turned back many times. Finally, though, they could begin to see a faint glow beyond. It grew ever brighter as they descended, and oft they would hear the rumble as of a mighty roar echoing high in the mountains, and releasing the snows off a high peak.
=== Then the path flattened, and ahead of them was a great gateway that led into the dragon’s chamber. They entered as quickly as they dared, but with great caution. It was dark, lit only by the smouldering of the great beast’s breath as he slept. At the center was an island of gold and pretty things, surrounded by a sea of liquid fire.
=== The fearsome dragon lay asleep atop the golden mound—Or so they thought. Linkûhir drew nearer, the great hammer in his hands. But just then, Ôlfaegiâ’s eyes shot open, and he let out a roar that made the walls of the cavern tremble.
=== “Who disturbs my slumber? Little thieves who have come to take of my hoard, eh? The dwarves were too frightened to come with you, were they? Hmm hmm hmm! You will not find your designs so easy. Not though all the dwarves of the mountain were behind you could you hope to challenge me!”
=== Linkûhir stepped forward, gripping the mighty hammer with both hands. Careful not to look it in the eyes, he ran toward the golden mound, ready to strike Ôlfaegiâ’s large, vulnerable eyes.
=== “What’s this? Ah, so you wish to die, do you? Very well then, come to me, little elf.”
=== The dragon slowly lifted his head high, and breathed a stream of fire at his attacker. Linkûhir dodged out of the way, but the fire’s light was so bright that Ôlfaegiâ did not perceive the maneuver. He bent his great head down low again, searching for the ashes of his foe. When his head was low enough, a great weight pounded his skull with such force that many hard scales flew off. Ôlfaegiâ writhed in pain upon the golden isle, shaking the mountain with his deafening roars. He flew around the ceiling over and over, and presently began spitting bursts of flame at his ‘apparently-not-so-powerless’ foe.
=== Linkûhir did his best to dodge his attacks, but often Navi had to deflect several of them with her magic. Linkûhir finally managed to draw his bow, and, nocking an arrow, shot at Ôlfaegiâ’s belly. Over and over he shot at him, but to no avail. This dragon was not as others, whose underparts are their greatest weakness. Ôlfaegiâ’s belly was covered with great scales, and no mere arrow could pierce him. Linkûhir now only had one target, and much smaller. He aimed for the monster’s eyes.
=== Linkûhir found this no less a feat than he had imagined, for Ôlfaegiâ swirled and looped all around in the air, and revealed his face only when breathing flames at him. Navi finally saw an opportunity though, and filled all the chamber with a surge of white blinding light. Ôlfaegiâ wheeled round, hiding his face from the source. When the light dimmed, he brought his head around again, searching for his enemies. Linkûhir saw his chance; the point of his arrow was aimed direct for the eyes of the dragon, and found its mark swifter than lightning upon the mountains.
=== Blinded, Ôlfaegiâ plummeted to the ground, or what he thought was the ground. He tumbled off the edge into the fiery moat. The dragon leaped out of the flames, shrieking, and climbed up onto the islet. Linkûhir pounded the monster’s head into the earth again and again and again, until with a last roar of defeat, the dragon fell still. Ôlfaegiâ, the terror of Death Mountain, was dead at last.
=== Linkûhir and Navi made their way slowly upward and out of the mines, to be received with joyous celebration at the freedom of the mines of the Cyryn.

=== Having obtained the Curon Ruby, Linkûhir now turned his attention to the Zerain, who had charge over the protection of the Zora Sapphire. It took him a very long time to obtain the precious gem, for the Zerain were scattered all over the plains of Hyarrûl, mostly near the rivers. Finally he was directed to the domain under Ered Wethrin, where the captain of the Zerain dwelt. In the end Linkûhir was forced to seek out and rescue the captain’s beloved daughter, who had gone missing not long before. The short version of the tale is that, as they were searching, Navi spotted a small jar. Opening it, they found a short letter from the girl telling her father where she had gone. The news was not good; she had gone beyond Ered Wethrin to the Garodo Fortress, to retrieve a jewel that was stolen from her. Her action had proven foolhardy, as anyone would have predicted had they known beforehand. After much toil Linkûhir and Navi found her imprisoned inside the fortress, though thankfully not under tight guard. The Garodo quite often tended to be overconfident of their intimidation of other peoples, although usually it was true. But Linkûhir feared them not. All the same he could not stand against an entire army of well-trained thieves. Stealth was needed. If only he had with him his good friend Mido. Mido could walk without being heard and not think a thing of it. In fact Linkûhir had learned much from him, but he never expected to have such skill as Mido had.
=== At length they managed to make themselves known to the girl; Rûtê was her name. She actually possessed some magical skills, but she was drained after using a water spell in the middle of the desert. They brought her out from the roof using a slender rope brought out of Dekûtawar. Their last hope after that was a quick dash to the horses, where they would be carried away from the fortress, hopefully, and yet hopelessly, undetected.
=== They ran swiftly away from the place, but almost immediately there were many Garodo on their heels. They mounted their horses, Linkûhir carrying Rûtê, and sped swiftly away from the danger. Although that escape caused much trouble for Linkûhir later on, during a later mission vastly greater in significance, for the Garodo do not easily forget anyone with the skill to escape them.
=== After presenting Rûtê safely back to the captain, and after Linkûhir presented the letter that Princess Zildae had written, they had no further trouble obtaining the Zora Sapphire from the ever-grateful Captain of the Zerain.

=== Finally Linkûhir possessed all three gems—the other three Keys to the Door of Time. And they made their way back to Hyarrûl Palace.
=== But as Linkûhir dismounted and approached the outer gates to the city, he was nearly trodden underfoot by a galloping horse coming straight at him. He dodged out of the way just in time to catch a glimpse of the rider. It was Impadae, and she was carrying Princess Zildae next to her. He was about to ride after them, but then he saw a small object flying through the air in his direction. Linkûhir caught it and held it in his hands. It was the Ocarina of Time! Zildae must have thrown it at him as she passed.
=== Then, just when they were out of sight, a grim, surly voice snapped at him.
=== “You! Which way did they go?”
=== Linkûhir did not respond.
=== “Answer me!”
=== Linkûhir drew his bow, and aimed an arrow at the figure’s head.
=== “Ha! Foolish one. You are protecting the princess?? Hmm hmm hmm. You do not yet know against whom you stand. Out of my way!!”
=== With that, a burst of dark power threw Linkûhir to the ground, and the villain galloped past. Navi watched over Linkûhir. Her powers were no match against such a dark foe.

=== When Linkûhir finally awoke, Gaen’Dûr was gone. It was broad daylight, and Navi was kneeling at his side. A great dark cloud hung in the sky behind them, far in the distance. It had been three days since the encounter, but Navi could not at first bring Linkûhir inside the city, for the dark power weighed heavily upon him, so that not even his mighty horse had the strength to be able to bear him to safety. So Navi waited until the magic wore off.
=== Linkûhir finally managed to struggle to his feet. His limbs still felt very heavy, and Navi explained to him what had happened. The last of the shadow wore off eventually, though, and they were able to make their way to the Palace. Navi had begged Linkûhir to fully recover his strength first, but he would not. He had to rescue the Triforce before Gaen’Dûr got to it first. But at length he began to feel a little refreshed, and the going was easier.
=== Inside the Temple of Time, Linkûhir placed the three jewels in their proper places, upon the pedestal in the center of the vast hall. He knew he had to play the Ocarina to open the door, but only the princess knew the melody.
=== Linkûhir sat a long time thinking what to do, when suddenly the music came to him. He heard the princess’ voice in his head, leading what he played. All at once the far wall began to rumble. Then it grew louder and louder and the great door, Annon Lûiar, was revealed. They walked slowly over to it. It only needed a small touch to move it, and it swung wide open, into a high chamber.
=== The center of the room was raised high upon a platform, with many flights of stairs leading to the top. When Linkûhir finally made the climb, his eyes beheld an ancient wonder. There in the center of the platform was a timeless blade. Linkûhir was held in awe. When he came to himself, he carefully placed his hands upon the sword-hilt. Without effort Linkûhir was able to lift it out of its pedestal. At once all around them turned blindingly white. Linkûhir was about to accomplish his quest. But then suddenly, a grim, surly voice let out an evil menacing laughter. Linkûhir and Navi were stunned in shock.
=== “You thought you could just sneak right under my nose. Ha! Foolish one. I have been watching you, Linkûhir Huortaur. Your efforts have done nothing save to assist my cause. True the princess has escaped me for now, but not for long. With the Power that awaits me, nothing shall stand before my might.” The villain said with a grim smile. “Indeed, I must thank you…, heh… heh… heh… heh. You’ve led me right into the Sacred Realm! Get out of my way, fool! THE TRIFORCE IS MINE!!! HA HA HA HA!!!”
=== Gaen’Dûr sped past them. As soon as his hand touched the golden triangles, the Sacred Realm immediately became a place of great evil. Shrill shrieks of darkness filled the air, and the shadows threw out the light.

=== Linkûhir and Navi were overcome with despair. There they stood for what seemed days. At last they were about to turn back and re-enter the world with heavy hearts. But they were met by an old figure, clothed in deep red and in golden robes, though they were tattered and torn from the malice that filled the Evil Realm. Navi recognized him as Rawrui, the Great Sage of Light. Rawrui brought them to the Temple of Light, now laid waste, and there they stayed for a time. Though they did not realize it, it was later revealed to Linkûhir and Princess Zildae that, when Gaen’Dûr had touched the Triforce, its three pieces split apart, and transported themselves into those who most manifested the characteristics of each one: power… courage… and wisdom. This happened because Gaen’Dûr Togwaur did not possess a balance of the three forces within himself. Since Gaen’Dûr’s desire was for power, that is what he received. Princess Zildae Araniel was chosen for her wisdom, and Linkûhir Huortaur for his courage.
=== But Linkûhir could do nothing for Hyarrûl yet. Rawrui first had to teach him the ways of the sword, and of the mighty weapon he carried. Linkûhir learned quickly, and soon the more difficult techniques were made known to him, and he was able to accomplish complex feats. Rawrui knew much of the lore of the Triforce, as well as of the Master Sword that Linkûhir now possessed. Navi also reacquainted herself with her old master, and remembered the old spells, and furthered her skills in the arts of Light.
=== For fourteen years Linkûhir trained relentlessly. He had nothing else to do but study the sword and learn all he could from Rawrui. Until at last the time came for Linkûhir to return to Hyarrûl. Rawrui had given Linkûhir a menacing task. Gaen’Dûr had undoubtedly spent his time destroying all that was once good in the land, but there were still outposts of virtue, though they were rapidly vanishing, or being rendered powerless. The most influential of these were the other temples of the Sages. They were well hidden in secret or impossible places throughout the land, but Rawrui knew where to find them, being a Sage himself. He drew a map of their locations for Linkûhir, and instructed him in his errand.
=== Since Gaen’Dûr could not be slain while he possessed the Triforce of Power, Hyarrûl’s only hope was to seal the villain inside the Evil Realm, where he would be cut off from the kingdom, and his power would not effect it. To accomplish this, the ones who are the other Six Sages must awake to their power, and must join with each other at a time when the King of Evil is weak. Rawrui told them that one of the Sages was Princess Zildae herself, though she had never known it. The others could be found inside the temples upon the map.
=== Before they set out, Rawrui warned them of the danger they would undoubtedly face. It had been fourteen years since Gaen’Dûr Togwaur had obtained the Triforce of Power, and doubtless the entire kingdom was infested with evil creatures and curses of darkness. They would be hunted from the start, and they would need all their skill and more, if they hoped to emerge from the quest victorious. It was a very slight chance, but it was the only one that could hope to bring down the Great Enemy of Hyarrûl. Rawrui then presented Linkûhir with one last token: his medallion of Light. When presented to the other sages, their powers would call to them, and they would be awakened, remembering their former strength. He also instructed Linkûhir to remember the Ocarina of Time, for far more power was stored in it than one might guess.

=== When Linkûhir and Navi finally returned to the world, it looked exactly the same at first. The Temple of Time was untouched. They did not know why, but the reason was that the power of the Valar protected it, being the gateway into the Sacred Realm. Outside, however, the entire City under the Palace lay in ruins, and the sky was dark with evil clouds of shadow. A few goblins were wandering in the street, but they either fought and died swiftly, or else fled in terror.
=== Linkûhir brought out his Ocarina, and played a song to call his horse, which he had taught her during his walk to the Palace, fourteen years earlier. The great animal heard the melody from far away, and flew like the wind to her master from long ago. A few hours later, Linkûhir heard the sound of great hoofs upon the ground. It was Ephena, the magnificent steed he had left near the palace all that time ago. Since then she had escaped the hunters of Gaen’Dûr, often taking refuge in the stables of a ranch far away. Ephena was filled with delight at being reunited with her friend, and she bore Linkûhir and Navi swiftly wherever Linkûhir desired.
=== Over the course of the next forty and nine years, Linkûhir traveled to the secret temples and awoke the sages that were trapped inside. Many curses and dark spells were cast upon them all, and the temples were infested with the evil beasts that now roamed throughout the land. And great monsters lurked inside, the likes of which had never been seen before. Gaen’Dûr made them using the Power he had, and combined and mutilated many creatures to create the fiends. Linkûhir had proven his worth many times over. His sword and bow were invaluable during his battles, and Navi’s power aided him many times. Also, Navi had the keener eyesight, so she was able to notice more minute details that would normally have been overlooked. The journeys through Hyarrûl alone were extremely perilous; the beasts of Gaen’Dûr hunted them everywhere they went, as Rawrui had rightly guessed.
=== But at last all the sages were awakened, except one. Linkûhir still had to find Princess Zildae, but, though he searched hard wherever he went, she was nowhere to be found. Finally, one day, Navi spotted one of the Gwathrim riding toward Kailkaridhor village in the east. She seemed to know somewhat of what they asked, and hinted at one of Arnost Hyarrûl, who had been under the care of Impadae, their leader. Apparently she was at Kailkaridhor. Ephena sped away toward the village, where, after much inquiry, Linkûhir finally found the place where Impadae was staying.
=== Impadae recognized Linkûhir at once, and brought him to where Zildae was. When Linkûhir entered the room, he found one dressed in such clothing as the Gwathrim wore. She heard him approach, but did not look upon his face, for she knew not whether to fear the approach of a stranger. Suddenly a bright explosion of light flashed in the center of the room, and when the light dispelled, she was gone. Linkûhir ran back up the stairs, and found her standing next to Impadae. But only then did Zildae recognize who stood before her. Impadae explained to Linkûhir that the Princess had been kept hidden from Gaen’Dûr by the vigilance of the Gwathrim, and had been well trained in their arts (not the least of which Linkûhir had just seen a moment ago).
=== Linkûhir and Zildae went back into the room to speak with one another. They talked for a long time, for both had many questions that needed answering. Linkûhir told her of Rawrui’s plan, and showed her the medallion Rawrui had given him. Zildae stared at it in wonder. She had been awakened, and the power that was hidden inside her now flowed freely throughout.
=== Zildae now became more urgent than Linkûhir had been, wishing the Great Enemy to spend not one more day polluting their blessed land. Zildae mounted her horse, and Linkûhir and Navi followed behind. Linkûhir soon overtook Zildae (Ephena was one of the swiftest horses in Middle-earth), and led the way to where the City under the Palace once stood. They rode quickly through the ghostly city, and sped up the hill towards Hyarrûl Palace. What they found in its place, however, held them in awe and dread.
=== The palace had been razed to the ground, and on top of the rubble was built an immense, high tower. The entryway was unguarded, yet they feared to go inside, for a great terror of the place had seized them. It was a curse upon those not in service of the Evil King that held them in such a state. Zildae asked to borrow the Ocarina from Linkûhir. With it she skillfully played a soothing melody, breaking the enchantment, and slowly they became en-heartened once more.
=== Linkûhir bade Ephena watch over the other horses outside the entry, and then the three elves made their way inside the great tower. Slowly they made their way upward. Up, up, up they climbed, challenged by great evil warriors along the way. Very great some were, wearing thick armor and wielding terrible axes. Until at last they reached the topmost chamber. On the other side of the room Gaen’Dûr sat, and he laughed at them.
=== “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Foolish ones. Look! The marks on your hands reveal themselves! You have gathered together the Powers of the Triforce. You have brought that which I most desired within my very grasp! Hmm hmm hmm. I knew that if I waited long enough, you fools would come to me yourselves. Come; why not give me your lives as well!! HA HA HA HA!!!”
=== He then levitated himself into the air, and began to cast shadowy orbs of evil at them. Navi could not get near, for the waves of darkness had overpowered her (it was just as well, because had Navi attempted her powers against so terrible an enemy, she would have drained herself before being of any support to Link). So a great battle took place between the bearers of the Triforce.
=== The battle lasted for days, but none could have taken note of the passage of time in that place, for the dark cloud that hovered over the land shielded out all sunlight. Ever the sorcerer hurled his magic, and ever the Kokari wielded his blade. The mighty sword, they found, contained the power to repel evil, and as Gaen’Dûr flung his conjuring, oft and anon one of the orbs of darkness would fly straight back at him. Princess Zildae used her magic to bring the villain from out of his concentrated state, and sometimes one of the black orbs would hit him, and he would plummet back to the floor in surprise. Many times Linkûhir used these opportunities to hack and slash his sword at Gaen’Dûr, and at length Gaen’Dûr grew weaker and weaker. However, the dark magic had taken its toll. Linkûhir and Zildae were constantly being slammed into the walls of the room, and the heavy shadow weakened their minds.
=== Then a great blast of shadow sent Zildae far to the other side of the room. She fell on the ground, unconscious. Gaen’Dûr then proceeded to cast his magic at Linkûhir, but Linkûhir again reflected it back at him. This time, though, Gaen’Dûr reflected it right back. For a long time this went on, back and forth, back and forth, and again and again and again. But finally, in a fury of blinding speed, Linkûhir reflected once more, then drew out his bow and shot at Gaen’Dûr’s eyes. While concentrating hard on the “game,” as Gaen’Dûr irritatingly thought of it, he did not see the stinging arrow coming toward him. He reflected once more, and then it hit. Gaen’Dûr screamed with pain, and Linkûhir sent the orb flying back. It struck Gaen’Dûr with a powerful shock, and he fell once more to the ground. Linkûhir swung at him with all his might, over and over, until Gaen’Dûr did not move again.

=== Linkûhir and Navi ran to Zildae, who was beginning to stir. They brought her to her feet, and were about to summon the Great Sages. But at that moment, a great rumbling made the tower tremble, and shook it to its foundations. Then parts of the ceiling began to fall. The tower was crumbling! Quickly they raced back down the tower, dodging giant masses of stone as they went. They raced passed the many stairways, littered with the crumbling debris of the failing walls. Finally they came out of the tower, just as it began to fall upon itself to the ground.
=== The three had not even time to think, when suddenly a great pile of stones and rubble was thrown in all directions, and a dark figure rose swiftly into the sky. Gaen’Dûr screamed at them, and used the Power of the Triforce to change himself, for a time, into a great and terrible beast. It is said that Linkûhir’s later description of the fiend resembled one of the great balrogs of Morgoth, in shape and power.
=== With one of his two immense blades, the monster struck Linkûhir’s beloved Master Sword from his hands. Quickly, Navi ran to Linkûhir and cast a spell that empowered his arrows with the forces of Light. And Zildae lent him use of the Dagger of the Gwathrim. Just in time, Linkûhir sent an arrow flying into the creature’s head, and it roared in torment, the Light’s power overthrowing the darkness. Linkûhir ran over to the giant beast and stabbed at it all over, but nowhere did the blade penetrate. While under the massive creature, he espied a shining spot upon the tip of its tail. Linkûhir lunged at it and buried the dagger deep inside. Then he shot it several times with the Arrows of Light. The monster let out a terrible, deafening shriek that was heard for many miles around the land. Their blood ran cold at the sound.
=== The great beast fell forward, and crashed upon the ground, sending great boulders flying all around. Before it could get up, Zildae threw the Master Sword to Linkûhir. Navi held the monster still with all her power, and then collapsed with exhaustion. “Link! Do it now!” She shouted before falling unconscious. And with all his strength Linkûhir smote the beast with his great blade. “Si, Belegithryn Hyarrûl! Eledhio nedhi Ardhum!!” Then a great light came from the fiend, and he reverted to his prior form. And Gaen’Dûr Togwaur vanished; the Seven Great Sages sent him back into the Evil Realm, and the great door between lands was sealed with all their power.

=== The battle was over, but not without price. The reign of the Evil King had seen the end of nearly all that was good in the land, and the inhabitants still dwelt in fear and trembling of the evil creatures throughout the country. But all would be set aright, in due time. Linkûhir gave the Ocarina back to Princess Zildae, and took the three jewels with him to be returned to their proper keepers. Then Linkûhir and Navi returned to Dekûtawar in the Lost Woods, and began mustering the wood-elves to confront the evil which lingered still throughout the land.
=== Linkûhir lead the Kekeri for a long time to rid Hyarrûl of the remaining threats, however insignificant they appeared in comparison to the might of Gaen’Dûr Togwaur. After a time, Linkûhir Huortaur returned to his home in the Lost Woods. His friendship with Navi had turned into love over the years, and they were wed soon after his returning.

[Kalon Ordona II]

(Part 1 of 2)

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=== Here, the events concerning Linkallon Huorníth are truly begun. Up to this point, I have presented the history of Linkûhir Huortaur and the events in his life that were of importance to Linkallon Huorníth, as they were a part of his heritage as well as of the greatness of Hyarrûl. The tales telling of the actions of Linkallon and his father, Linkûhir, during the War of Wrath have become vague at best. For that reason, I will only mention that Linkûhir and Linkallon both participated in the War of Wrath, leading their band of Kekeri against the forces of evil. The events of that War had profound effect upon the inhabitants of Hyarrûl, as is told hereafter.
=== Again, there have been many difficulties discerning myth from history, but I believe I have been largely successful. The main difficulties, however, are mostly limited to the tales of Linkûhir Huortaur, and those of the life of Linkallon Huorníth before Hyarrûl’s settlement upon Tolfalas.
=== The period following that settlement, as well as the time before, is recorded in many legends. The History of Hyarrûl is one of these legends, although I believe it is by far the one most rooted in actual fact. The events that unfolded while Linkallon was at Tolfalas are probably the most detailed in any one of these legends.
=== The more vague details in what follows I have had to piece together from various sources, such as the History of Hyarrûl, but most of it has been gathered from the personal memoirs of Linkallon Huorníth. Hence, this part of the tale is far more reliable, in terms of historical accuracy, than what has been recorded above.

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=== Linkallon Huorníth was born on Nail Hithui (third of November), in the year 279 of the First Age. He was full of courage and bravery even from his youth, and was always full of inexplicable and unquenchable energy. He spent much of his time with his father, Linkûhir Huortaur, and he learned a great deal from their long talks in the woods of his home. Dekûtawar in the Lost Woods, at that time was a place of great peace and joy. Many tales spoke of the defeat of a dark sorcerer. Linkallon always felt great pride whenever his father spoke, however modestly, of his own involvement in the matter. But those days were past, and much of the land had recovered.
=== Linkallon was a fast learner. He gathered much from his father’s knowledge. Linkallon could never hope to be nearly as good with a bow as Linkûhir had been, but his bowmanship was developing. He was inclined rather toward the sword, though, and he practiced daily. Soon his skills began to surpass most of the Kekeri (a pattern in his family that many had come to expect). His father was, as always, very proud of him. Linkûhir had usually favored the bow over the blade, but he was glad that at least one of them was a superior swordsman.
=== It was about this time that Linkallon’s sister, Âryl Haetíra, was born. She loved her brother very much, and, even from the time she was able to walk, Âryl followed Linkallon everywhere he went, and he cared for her immeasurably. Âryl had the gift of far-sight, and could see further than a mighty eagle high upon the winds. She knew the languages of the birds, and she talked with them continually. Âryl soon showed great courage for one yet so young.

=== Once, when Âryl was not yet full-grown, Linkallon took her to the far west of Dekûtawar, to show her a place that he liked to go from time to time. They had journeyed nearly half the distance, when Linkallon heard something near at hand. “Lasto, muinthel nín.”
=== “Man lastach, Link?” (What can you hear, Link?)
=== “Ú-istan. Tôlel.” (I don’t know. It is coming.)
=== They went on, listening intently. Then suddenly a great creature appeared in front of them.
=== “Link, tiro!” (Link, look out!)
=== “Ai! Noro, Âryl!” (Ah! Run, Âryl!)
=== Linkallon ran to do battle with the monster. Âryl watched from behind, eager to help her brother. Linkallon was always prepared for danger, yet this foe had caught him somewhat by surprise. But he was never without a sword, and soon Linkallon was slashing at the beast, nimbly dodging its attacks. The creature had immense limbs. Its claws were sharp, and its great jaws bit at him incessantly. Link had difficulty cutting through its unyielding hide. In minutes, the many wounds it had received left the monster bleeding uncontrollably, and yet it still persisted. It seemed not even to take notice, but rather advanced all the more, like a cornered badger that has caught itself in some hunter’s trap. Âryl could see that her brother was steadily losing ground. Unless there was a change for the better, and soon, there would be little chance of escape. She had to do something, but what?
=== “Link, enni hado peng lîn!” (Link, throw me your bow!)
=== She caught his bow and quiver of arrows that he managed to toss in her direction. Âryl sighted along the arrow. She had had little training with a bow, but she aimed at the monster’s throat. The arrow whistled through the air and it hit its mark. The beast stumbled only for an instant, but that was enough for Linkallon, who immediately slashed at its neck, separating its head from its body. The beast fell motionless to the ground.
=== Âryl ran over to Linkallon, just before he collapsed. “Le vae, muindor?” (Are you alright, my brother?)
=== “Nathon vae. Âryl, hannon le.” (I will be alright. Âryl, I thank you.)
=== When Link awoke, he found himself at the place he had spoken to Âryl of. She was sitting beside him and bandaging the largest of his wounds with dekû leaves—a trick she had learned from Navi some time earlier. They spent a few days there, talking to each other and enjoying the wondrous beauty of the place. Âryl had marveled at Linkallon’s skill, but Link was very grateful to her for the part she had played in the encounter. She did not fully know what danger Link had been in.
=== Linkallon and Âryl were all but inseparable after that.

=== There was peace in the Lost Woods for many long years, but it could not last forever. Rumors were whispered of a fell darkness that was spreading across Middle-earth. Morgoth had revealed himself to the world. His armies marched across all the lands, destroying all who stood against them. Dreadful battles were fought in every direction. It was not long before bands of orcs marched toward Hyarrûl. Linkûhir and Linkallon, his son, led a great company of Kokarin warriors to counter the forces of darkness that threatened their homeland. The Royal Hyarrûlian Guard joined them without delay. After a time they drove out the enemy, but the end was not yet.
=== The King of Hyarrûl emptied the land, and all fled, making the long journey to Belfalas. There, they climbed the slopes of the mountain known in later ages as Tolfalas, for Princess Zildae Araniel had another dream, wherein she was warned by the Valar of a great flood that was soon to come, and counseled to depart from Hyarrûl, to some other place east of Beleriand. So they went. But Zildae also suggested that some remain, to give aid to others who would stand against the servants of Morgoth. Linkûhir and Linkallon chose so to remain, and they joined their forces with the rest of the Noldor.
The fighting raged on for years, until Eärendil set sail for Valinor to beg the aid of the Valar. And, after that great battle of the Powers of the World, Morgoth’s armies were defeated at last. But that battle also saw the end of the realm of Beleriand. It now lies beneath the waves, beyond sight or memory.

=== Linkûhir and Linkallon brought what remained of the armies of Hyarrûl along the west coast of Middle-earth, astonished at how the land was changed. The beloved land that had been their home now lay in ruins at the base of the great sea. Sadness and anger filled their hearts as they went on, to rejoin their kin at Tolfalas, which was now a great island upon the waves.
=== They arrived at the new Bay of Belfalas, and ferried across to Tolfalas, where the Hyarrûlians were already busying themselves with the rebuilding of their glorious kingdom. Great honor was bestowed upon the captains of the hosts of Hyarrûl, and the people welcomed them heartily, with much relief at their safe return. Thus peace once again blessed the kingdom. Linkallon was reunited with the rest of his family. Âryl had been very anxious for him since he left, and she most of all was set at ease to see her brother return from his peril unscathed. And so a new Age of the World began, and the kingdom of Hyarrûl was re-established upon their island home—the new Hyarrûl.

=== Time passed far away since the coming of the Hyarrûlians to Tolfalas. It was now the year 3333 of the Second Age. Some of the elves had journeyed to Valinor long ago. The Kekeri and the Zerain remained upon Tolfalas, and many Men now lived there also. The Cyryn dwarves, it is said, had bid the elves a fond farewell, and had traveled north and east into the Misty Mountains in the year 1500 S.A. They longed to see mountains again, and to feel the hard, stony earth beneath them. Darurin, the leader of the Cyryn, had been summoned to a gathering of the Dwarf Lords. It is recorded in the annals of his house that there he, among six others, received a mighty Ring of Power with which to wisely govern his people, but that is part of a larger tale. Before they were gone, though, the Cyryn presented Linkallon with a magnificent blade. Linkallon’s mastery in the ways of the sword pleased them greatly, for they were master sword-crafters, and their skill was unmatched in Middle-earth. The Kekeri assisted in its design, and into the blade they bestowed the power of the forests. It was dubbed Magol i Kokari, the Kokari Sword, and Darurin presented it himself before the departure of the Cyryn.
=== But now the kingdom of Hyarrûl experienced the beginnings of evil once more. The growing shadow in the East, in the land of Mordor, had spread. The seal that was placed upon the wicked sorcerer, Gaen’Dûr Togwaur, had been broken in the growing darkness, and he had become more powerful than ever. He had immediately learned of the relocation of his enemies, and now he sought the utter destruction of Hyarrûl. Neither had he forgotten Linkûhir Huortaur; his bitterness had nearly driven him insane in his prison, and his desire was for revenge.
=== Rumor grew of a great fortress upon an island in the north, and of the legions of goblin-men who served the lord of that place. Gaen’Dûr eventually sent his ships southward, pirating as they went, toward Tolfalas and the kingdom of Hyarrûl.
=== Âryl saw them first. Twelve great ships, full of fell creatures and evil beasts, were fast approaching the shores of their land. Hyarrûl swiftly prepared itself for battle, and the entire kingdom was set at full alert, but the force sent to destroy them soon proved only a small threat. The Kekeri were well trained, and every one could shoot an arrow two hundred fathoms and not miss even the smallest target. They set the ships of their enemies aflame, and watched as they sank into the blackness of the deep.
=== The battle was won, but Linkûhir the more earnestly asked leave of Queen Zildae Araniel to find this rumored fortress of evil, for he sensed a menacing shadow, a presence he had not felt for an age. Zildae gave him leave, then Linkûhir went to his son before departing.
=== “Linkallon, ion nín, telo na nin. Boethon anno tulu lîn… no sen natha methen.” (Linkallon, my son, Come with me. I will need your aid… before this is over.)
So they went, with many of the Kekeri who followed them. Zildae sent some of the Zerain with them as well, for they are masters of the water. Those remaining of the Gwathrim would not allow themselves be left out either, for their desire was to protect the Royal Family, and they knew that this mission would be of grave importance.
=== The company journeyed along the coast until they passed Ered Luin. There they caught their first glimpse of the stronghold. The fortress upon the island of Himling was rebuilt, and they could see movement in the towers and upon the walls.
=== “Ennas na. Linkallon, hon mathon. Gaen’Dûr Togwaur. Gâr leithian, a si aníra i methed o Hyarrûl.” (There it is. Linkallon, I can feel him. Gaen’Dûr Togwaur. He has escaped, and now he desires the end of Hyarrûl.)
=== “Manen sen istach?” (How do you know this?) A voice spoke from behind them. “Ae ten thenid, i-Velegoth Hyarrûl ad tôl, manen hon lain o gador dîn?” (If it is true, that the Great Enemy of Hyarrûl is the strength behind the attack, how was he freed from his prison?) The leader of the Gwathrim had to be sure. She knew the peril that they were under, if the saying proved correct which Linkûhir had spoken.
=== “Hon mathon sui nâ nef nin sen lû.” (I feel him as if he was beside me at this very moment.)
=== “Garem min ýr.” (We have only one choice.) Linkallon addressed the entire company. “Adar nín ú-pennen o sen an le. Gaen’Dûr ú-na dangen ir gâr Neltûr Balan. I Neltûr nant naud nan arnad Hyarrûl, sen îdh si nuin aearon. Si i val en Neltûr thinnol. Si Gaen’Dûr dagitham.” (My father has not spoken of this to you. Gaen’Dûr could not be slain when he still held the Triforce of Power. The Triforce was bound to the kingdom of Hyarrûl, which now rests under the great sea. Now the power of the Triforce is fading. Now we will slay Gaen’Dûr.)
=== “Linkallon pêd then. Ben ýr vín, i Zerain sí baditha nan ost a tíratha ae Gaen’Dûr ad maethatha. Ir câr, mabitham ir ost a in reviol cîr lachiol caritham, sui lû medui. Linkallon a nin erui hon dagratham. Coth sen einbell an pen o le. Dartho dan I thang, a anno lû ammen. (Linkallon speaks truth. According to our course, the Zerain here will go to the fortress and see if Gaen’Dûr will attack again. When he does, we will seize the fortress, and set the sailing ships aflame, as last time. Linkallon and I will battle Gaen’Dûr alone. This foe is greater than any of you. You all must stay against the oppression, and give us time.)
=== Gaen’Dûr was indeed intending to send another assault very soon, and already his servants made ready to board their baleful ships. It was well that the Zerain can move so speedily through the water, for word was brought to those upon the shore just in time, and they were able to assault the fortress that very night.
=== The attack went exactly as planned at first, but the company soon found the goblin-men to be more than they bargained for, and they had their hands full. Linkûhir and Linkallon finally managed to escape the skirmish and climb to the wooden chamber above the great tower. Gaen’Dûr was waiting for them.
=== “Still as foolish as before, I see. So you have come to challenge me once again, have you? But who is this, Linkûhir? You could not hope to defeat me on your own, eh? Heh heh heh.” Gaen’Dûr spoke in the Common Tongue. A vile evil was in his grim voice.
=== “You have no power anymore, Gaen’Dûr. Be gone from this world!”
=== Linkûhir and Gaen’Dûr began a fearsome battle. Linkallon rushed to join the fight, but at that moment a hundred goblin-men burst through the gate behind him.
=== “Ai! Enni Enner anna gaun! Firo, ylynn!” (Ah! May Tulkas give me courage! Die, hideous creatures!)
=== Linkallon’s Kokari Sword shone with a blinding green light; his blade lusted for battle. One by one, the creatures fell slain all around him. And at the other side of the room the duel raged on. Linkallon finished off the last of his opponents and rushed to his father’s aid.
=== “HA HA HA HA HA! I have you now!” Gaen’Dûr dealt a mortal blow, and Linkallon watched his father fall senseless to the ground.
=== “ADAR!”
=== “Ha! The fool, to think he could stand against the power that I possess.”
=== “You have doomed yourself, Gaen’Dûr Togwaur.”
=== “Yet another weakling comes to challenge me? HA HA HA! And who might you be, O great bringer of doom? Hmmm hmmm hmmm.”
=== “I am Linkallon Huorníth, son of Linkûhir Huortaur. Your evil deeds will be visited to you again, Gaen’Dûr! GO BACK TO THE SHADOW!”
=== Linkallon took up his father’s sword and lunged at the fiend. Gaen’Dûr cast a whirling ball of darkness at him, but Linkallon was quick and agile. He rolled under Gaen’Dûr’s sword-stroke and leaped high into the air. Before Gaen’Dûr knew what had happened, the Master Sword had sunk into his skull, and he was dead.
=== “Ir ûr sen le mâd nuithatha ului.” (May the fire that consumes you never be quenched.)
=== Linkallon set fire to the Gaen’Dûr’s fortress, and he and his company slew all who remained of the goblin-men upon Himling. And then at last they departed for the shores of their homeland, to honor and glory, and the renewing of their kingdom.
=== When Linkallon was home, he looked out to the horizons before him, recalling to his mind all the terrible evils that Gaen’Dûr Togwaur had committed against the kingdom of Hyarrûl. The heart of Linkallon Huorníth filled with anguish and rage; he would carry the pain of his father’s death with him for the rest of his days.
=== Linkallon could contain himself no longer, and he cried aloud to the distant lands.
=== “Byryr fuin, lasto beth lammen! Le ú-darthon farol ir hwest nedhrhawen! Rhaiw gwann lîn síla nu Anor, ar le hadithon ned ir iâ mas le tollim, nalú hyth ulug ú-baugla sen amar! Avo faro a phrestad; telitha allen. An le tolelin!!” (Servants of darkness, listen to my voice! I will not stop hunting you as long as there is breath in my body! Your bones will gleam under the sun, and I will send you all into the abyss from which you come, until the armies of evil oppress this world no longer! Do not look for trouble; it will come to you. I am coming to you!!)

[Kalon Ordona II]

(Part 2 of 2)

=== Linkallon had resolved to leave Hyarrûl as soon as he could. Word had reached his ears of the darkness in the East that would destroy the world, and that a great Alliance of Elves and Men were preparing to march upon the land of Mordor. Âryl wished to go to Middle-earth with her brother, but Linkallon told her to stay with their mother, Navi.
=== Before his departure, Navi gave her son a very precious gift. She presented Link with a finely crafted musical instrument, an ocarina, similar in shape and craft to the Ocarina of Time of the Royal Family of Hyarrûl. It was wrought of polished wood, banded with gold. And set near the mouthpiece was a brilliant green gem. She had made it for him herself, and the music that came out, when played with skill, was more lovely than the songs of Lothlórien.
=== Link said his good-byes to his family, and to the land of Hyarrûl, which was his home. He set out to join the Last Alliance, together with the Kekeri, who would not be persuaded to stay behind, and so proved their loyalty once again. Thus Linkallon Huorníth led a company of two thousand Kokarin mounted archers, and three hundred others, armed with swords. The Lord Elrond Halfelven received the company gratefully, and Linkallon was set in command over his host of the Kekeri, as well as over many other bands from Mirkwood.
=== So it was that the great battle of the Second Age began. Many bold warriors were lost, and the fighting seemed endless. Then the Dark Lord of Mordor entered the battle. Linkallon later recounted that episode in detail. In the Common Tongue, this is how it reads:

=== ‘Very tall was he, and a great club was in his hand. Many men and elves rushed at him, but to no avail. An invisible force was with his weapon as he brandished it, and the attackers were flung far from him. I saw upon his hand, as it were a ring of flame, glowing with light as he fought. Surely this was that same Ring of Power, the Ruling Ring, which had poisoned the earth for so long.
=== ‘Then I saw King Elendil charge the fiend, but he was no match for the power of Sauron the Dark Lord, and he was struck down. Just as dismay filled my heart, two great trolls suddenly appeared before me. My blade flashed green as I fought them, but before long I was nearly overcome. But then, a mighty wave forced them to the ground. What it was I cannot tell, but the Dark Lord had vanished, and I saw Isildur, son of Elendil holding a fiery light. The Lord Elrond was close at hand, and I showed him the sight. “He holds the Ring of Power!” he said to me. “Linkallon, stay here, I must lead Isildur into the mountain.”
=== ‘I then looked out upon the silent battlefield, and my heart sank at the loss of such great warriors as these, who had given their lives for the freedom of Middle-earth. Later on, when the many wounded were being tended, Isildur came down the slopes of Oroduin, with Lord Elrond coming slowly behind him. A queer look was upon Isildur’s face, as if he was hiding some great secret from prying eyes. Elrond was silent as he descended the slopes, and he would not speak when I called to him.’

=== Thus the Third Age of Middle-earth was begun. A new time of rebuilding was at hand. But Isildur had kept the Ring of Power for himself, and evil was allowed to remain in the world. Linkallon Huorníth dismissed his Kekeri followers from the duty of war. Some returned to Hyarrûl, but the majority went to dwell in the beautiful woods of Lothlórien. Linkallon wandered Middle-earth for a long time after that, playing a small part to cure the evils that remained in the lands. He journeyed throughout Eriador often, and visited his kin in the Fair Wood.
=== From time to time, Link would journey back to the land of Hyarrûl. The glory of that kingdom was restored, under the wisdom of Queen Zildae. When he was there, Link spent most of his time talking with his sister, Âryl. She had many children now, and Link loved to play with his nephews and nieces. He told them many stories all about his adventures.
=== For three thousand years Linkallon’s skills increased, and he became very wise and knowledgeable of many things in Middle-earth.

=== One of the closest friendships he made during the Third Age was with one Erynelleth Lythiell. The beginning of their friendship involved a close encounter with a horde of mounted bandits.
=== Erynelleth was staying in Tharbad at the time. In the middle of the night, a large group of the thieves robbed the Golden Ale Inn, but Eryn was away when they came. When she returned the following morning, she found the place utterly spoiled. Nearly everything of any value had been stolen.
=== Erynelleth’s beloved golden harp was gone as well. It had been an heirloom of her family since her great-grandmother. She had to retrieve it! She rushed out of the inn and mounted her horse, galloping swiftly after the tracks the bandits had left outside. She rode hurriedly all that day and night.
=== The following morning, at the breaking of the dawn, she came softly upon the thieves’ encampment. With not a sound she scurried among the bushes near the place, spying on them, waiting for an opportunity to arise. She saw the lesser bandits begin to divide the loot among themselves, and Eryn could hear their arguing.
=== “Now ‘ere’s a pre’ey thing!” one of them said, as he drew out Eryn’s harp.
=== “’ey now, tha’s gold! You can’t ‘ave it; et’s mine!”
=== “’Twas me whot saw et first!”
=== They argued in this manner for quite some time, making quite a disturbance. Finally a great, tall one stepped in among them. Gülmred was his name. Erynelleth rightly guessed this was their leader, judging from his stature and countenance.
=== “You awll shu’ up! Oi’ll set’el this!” He said in a deep voice.
=== So the leader grabbed the golden instrument and placed it inside his horse’s saddlebag, along with the other most precious things from the plunder.
=== Erynelleth gathered her courage and drew her bow. Nocking three arrows at a time, she dashed toward the bandits, shooting her arrows at them as she went, heading for their leader. Before Gülmred knew what had happened, he had an arrow in his head, and Eryn was upon the brigand’s horse. She galloped away, with the enraged bandits on her heels. She had destroyed nearly a third of the group, and had slain their leader. They rode after Eryn with a bitter vengeance.
=== Erynelleth drew her bow again, firing at her closest pursuers. She was running out of arrows, though, and soon they would overtake her. Just when things might have gone ill, Eryn espied a mounted figure far off, clad in green, and swiftly approaching. Her elf eyes recognized Captain Linkallon Huorníth, who’s command she had been under during the Battle of Dagorlad.

=== Linkallon Huorníth on his way to Lothlórien to visit his Kekeri kinfolk, when he spotted something in the distance. It was a large group of mounted brigands, and they seemed to be chasing after a lone she-elf. Linkallon sped down the hill, and onto the wide plains Minhiriath. His mount was swift, and he soon came upon the rear of the pursuit. One by one they fell to his sword, and it was some time before any took notice. The elf-maiden looked back upon her rescuer, and spent her last arrows fending off her closest attackers.
=== Linkallon charged through the midst of them, slashing with his blade as he went, and sending the riders off of their horses to meet with the ground and the thunder of hooves. At last, seeing their peril at this lone swordsman, the few bandits that remained fled wildly back to their camp.
=== Linkallon beckoned to the elf to follow him, and they went toward the other horses, gathering them together. Then they dismounted, and Erynelleth spoke first.
=== “Elo! Ú-cínielin curu anann.” (Stars! I have not seen such skill for a long time.)
=== “Le mae? Amman celegaim le ruidanne?” (Are you alright? What were those bandits after you for?)
=== “Cen mabanner o nin *presenting her harp from the saddle-bag* tâd eraid io. Hain aphannin anechad tîn, a main tîn dengin ah pinevyr. Abtan, drengen o hain, a nin ruidanner. Pilinnen iuithannen ir tellich. Le hannon o guren, Linkallon Brannon.” (They stole this from me two days ago. I followed them to their encampment, and killed their leader, as well as several others. Then I rode away from them as they chased me. I was beginning to run out of arrows when you came. I thank you from my heart, Lord Linkallon.)
=== “Manen istach eneth nîn?” (How do you know my name?)
=== “Nin ú-renich. Maethannen nu torthad dîn na lú Auth Dagorlad. Cuilen bernich tan lú, dan ú-istannech. Eneth nîn Erynelleth Lythiell.” (You may not remember me. I fought under your command during the Battle of Dagorlad. You actually saved my life at that time, though you may not have known it. My name is Erynelleth Lythiell.)
=== “Nan Aear a Geil! Maer tolin ir tolin. Um daer tôl am le.” (By the sea and stars! It is a good thing I came when I did. Great evil may have come upon you.)
=== “Nin gelithach i magol?” (Would you teach me the sword?)
=== “Ae han anírach. Maer isto le berio. Sen hebo. I Guron hadhodrim o baren iaur. Brand magol. Lýth am han le beriatha.” (If you desire it. It is good to know how to defend yourself. Take this. This blade was made by the Curon dwarves of my country of old. A very fine blade it is. Spells are upon it that will protect you.)
=== Erynelleth learned quickly, and Linkallon was a master swordsman. She soon learned more than enough start on, and she was very grateful (although she had never favored the sword, and she never did). Link bade her farewell, and they departed in peace and friendship.

=== The Third Age was drawing to a close. The One Ring, possessed by Isildur, or rather possessing Isildur, kept the spirit of Sauron alive, though his body was vanquished. The power of the Dark Lord was ever increasing. Linkallon knew this, and ever he sought out ways to counter the forces of darkness that poured from the Black Land. The year 3000 saw a sudden heightening of the strength of the Dark Lord, and Linkallon felt in his heart that the days were short. The struggle was about to end, for good or ill.
=== For the next seventeen years, Linkallon Huorníth journeyed in Eriador. He often helped some of the Dúnedain in their efforts to secure the lands of peace, defending those lands from the growing darkness.
=== At the beginning of 3018, Linkallon heard the whispers that the Nine had left Minas Morgul. The Ringwraiths, slaves of Sauron, were searching fervently for the One Ring. Linkallon immediately raced to Hyarrûl to defend his kindred. In June, Hyarrûl heard the news of the attack on the kingdom of Gondor. The War of the Ring had begun. The kingdom of Hyarrûl strengthened its fortifications against the battles to come.
=== In 3019, Linkallon went to Lothlórien to muster the Kekeri. In February, they joined a company of archers led by Haldir of Lórien, going toward Helm’s Deep. They only just made it to the great fortress of Rohan before the fighting Uruk-hai of Saruman did, and during the Battle of the Hornburg they lent their might to the race of Men.
=== The terrible battle would have gone ill had it not been for the coming of the riders of Rohan, and Gandalf the White at their head. Linkallon stood in awe at that sight, the wizard there atop the high hill, shining like the sun at the breaking of the dawn, bearing a ray of hope.

=== After the battle for Helm’s Deep, Linkallon led the Kekeri back towards Hyarrûl to defend their homeland. But a troop of Haradrim stood in their path. There were six hundred at least, and three mighty oliphaunts. At their Master’s command, they had broken away from the main force that was marching to Minas Tirith, and now they made for the lands to the west. Upon this host Linkallon’s band laid ambush.
=== The deadly aim of the Kekeri was directed first at the great beasts upon which many of the southrons rode. But the rest of the army was not so easily defeated. The Haradrim fought like madmen, and the host charged up the hill where the Kekeri stood. The arrows flew thick against them, but still they advanced, heedless of their fellows falling dead upon the ground. The Kekeri spent all their arrows, and more than half the force now lay dead before them. Then they drew their swords and charged down the hill, with Linkallon at the head. Linkallon slew more than sixty in that charge, and his blade shone bright with the enchanted light of the forest. The rage of the Haradrim turned to fear and dread, and the remaining few fled before the assault. The Kekeri chased them down until there was not one left.
=== Linkallon was glad that the force of the Haradrim was lessened against the White City of Men, but many Kekeri were slain in the fight, and his joy was made as nothing next to his grief over the lost. The company journeyed back to Hyarrûl, carrying their departed comrades to honorable burial in their homeland.

=== At last the news of the defeat of Sauron reached the kingdom of Hyarrûl, and the rejoicing did not cease for many a year. The Fourth Age of Middle-earth was to begin. Linkallon Huorníth visited his kinfolk, and communed with his fellow Kekeri. He made the journey, with the Kekeri, back to their homes in fair Lothlórien, and then went throughout Middle-earth, cleansing it once again from the evil of Sauron that yet remained.

---

=== And thus the Fourth Age began for Linkallon Huorníth. Most of Linkallon’s dealings during the beginning of the Fourth Age are well detailed, as the personal accounts that Linkallon Huorníth himself kept are still intact. It was during this age that he joined himself with the Mithril Knights of Evendim, and the many adventures he had with them are well documented. The writings that follow are also exceptionally accurate. I have had little or no trouble gathering the material for this part of the account, and there is quite a bit of it, thankfully.
=== This part of the tale is still in the making, for the memoirs of Linkallon Huorníth are written in Tengwar script of the Sindarin tongue. Translation is slow, but I will present the material as it is being completed.

---

=== Linkallon Huorníth trafficked in Middle-earth for a time, aiding those in distress. He spent much time at Minas Tirith, helping to rebuild the ruins of that glorious realm. After the repairs were well underway, he turned his attention north and west, to the realm of Eriador. He circuited the lands there, doing all he could to offer help in any circumstance.

=== Once, while he was staying at an inn in Bree, a fair elf-maiden came and introduced herself, speaking in the Common Tongue.
=== “Greetings to you. I have not seen one clad as you are since the time I was last at Lothlórien. Are you of the Kekeri? I have desired to learn more of their history. Is it not rumored that they are among the best bowmen in Middle-earth, and from an unknown land, it is said.”
=== “Our meeting is a pleasure. Come near the fire and we will talk. Yes, I am Kokarin. Linkallon Huorníth is my name. My kindred wander through all Middle-earth, protecting those having need, as I do, but most of them now dwell in the Fair Wood, as you have observed. The unknown land you speak of would be the kingdom of Hyarrûl. Of old it existed in Beleriand before the great War, but now it stands upon Tolfalas. But tell me, where are you from?”
=== “I am called Kaeglin Isowen, Lady of the Mithril Knights of Evendim. I am returning to the Mithril Castle from business in the south and east. The Castle lies northward from Bree.”
=== “Ah, so I have at last stumbled upon the Mithril Knights! I have heard of your many exploits throughout Middle-earth, and I am very fond of your style. I am sure many of the Kekeri, my kin, would agree as well, for in ancient times we would do much the same. My father once led them in Beleriand before the deluge of that time saw it’s ruin, and oft I did the same, until the Dark Lord was overcome, and peace came to this Middle-earth.”
=== “You must come and visit our halls.” Kaeglin said. “It would please us greatly to have in our midst one so valiant as you.”
=== “You flatter me, my lady, heh heh. That usually works.” He burst into a delightful laughter. “Very well. I shall come soon. But tell me now of yourself, I very much desire to hear the tales of your adventures.”
=== They talked long with each other about a great many things, and they spent many more days together, still going on about times past, and of the adventures they’d had.
=== “You should meet my great-grandfather Brimnon, Lord of the Mithril Knights of Evendim. He is both old and wise, and I doubt not that it would refresh him to converse with another who is so full of memory.”
=== “I shall come soon, my lady, but first I have business in Rohan. I must re-obtain one of the horses of my people. He is one of the maeras, and is descended from the great steed of my father, No hon veren ned i themais o gurth. The Kekeri possessed that line of old, but somehow they were lost, and the men of Rohan found them. I am glad, though, that no one else discovered them first, for it is said that the stables of Rohan are the best care for any horse. I have heard also that Shadowfax, the great lord of horses, lived there, and that comforts me greatly. But I may find difficulty in proving that breed belongs to the Kekeri, for my kin are little known in Middle-earth.
=== “Do not lose sleep over it, though; I shall come just as soon as the matter is sorted out.”
=== So was the beginning of Linkallon’s affiliation with the Mithril Knights.

=== Linkallon went to Rohan. The returning peace after Sauron’s defeat had made the land to prosper, and the rebuilding of their land was far progressed. Edoras, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld, where now King Éomer governed, was a place of joy and grandeur once again.
=== Linkallon requested an audience with the King, and a time was set. King Éomer talked long with Linkallon. He was fascinated with his connection with the great maeras of ancient times. The King was a little reluctant to yield the herd, which Linkallon claimed to be the rightful owner of. Ephena, the mare of Linkûhir Huortaur, Linkallon’s father, was the ancestor of that breed, but now they had mixed with the steeds of Rohan. One remained unmingled, though. Hallalagos, a steed as black as night, with a shining white mane and tail, was greater in stature than any other horse living at that time, except the great work horses sometimes used by farmers. The ones of that size and build are remembered only in legend. Him King Éomer agreed to release into Linkallon’s possession, and Linkallon was contented. Hallalagos was his object from the start in any case, for he had felt the presence of the offspring of Ephena. Then when he saw Hallalagos, the steed rang clear in Linkallon’s memory of the horses of the ancient years, and he was the more pleased.
=== Linkallon Huorníth thanked King Éomer and set to the task of taming the wild Hallalagos. He did not find it difficult by any means, though, for at once the stallion knew the Kokarin scent which Linkallon carried, and his instinct was such to allow only one of the Kekeri to be borne by him. Linkallon climbed into the saddle, and gently whispered to Hallalagos. Immediately the steed took off with such speed that one could barely see his movements.
=== Over a span of time, a strong bond of friendship developed between the two. Hallalagos took great pleasure in bearing the Leader of the Kekeri. Such was his dream, though none but a Kokari could have known it.

=== Three years after his meeting with the Lady Kaeglin Isowen, Linkallon Huorníth journeyed to Lake Evendim, and the towers of Mithril Castle. Near the entrance stood two elves in shining mithril armor. “Who approaches the halls of the Mithril Knights?” One of them said, speaking in the Common Tongue.
=== “My name is Linkallon Huorníth. I was invited to come hither by the Lady of the Mithril Knights, Kaeglin Isowen by name.”
=== “Ah, Linkallon Huorníth. Yes, she told us you would be along sometime. You have delayed your coming for quite a long while, though.” The other said in a warm, friendly tone. “I am Anarandil Telemnar. Welcome, sir, to Mithril Castle. If you will, I can escort you to where the Lady Kaeglin is at present.”
=== “I am pleased to meet you, Anarandil. Please lead on. It will be good to see a familiar face.”
=== Anarandil led Linkallon through the entrance to the Castle. Linkallon was held in awe as they went; so magnificent the place was. They climbed many flights of stairs, going upward through the mighty towers of the citadel. Presently they exited onto a wide balcony. Linkallon immediately recognized the Lady Kaeglin sitting upon the wide railing.
=== “Hail, my lady! Didn’t I tell you I’d be here?” Linkallon said, half jesting.
=== “You also said soon.” Kaeglin said, laughing merrily. “What has taken so long?”
=== “Complications. You would not believe how many poor innocents need help these days!” Linkallon fell into an unstoppable laughter. “I am glad to be here.”
=== “I’ll talk with you some more later, Link. Anar, please show Link here to Lord Brimnon.”

=== Linkallon walked with Anarandil, talking a great deal about adventures and experiences and whatnot. They passed many others of the Mithril Knights, and they all were of a forthcoming, virtuous nature: very pleasant.
=== He finally came to the Lord Brimnon Val’Istar. Anarandil left them alone, and went back to his other duties. Brimnon wished to know much about this new visitor. Linkallon talked with him for hours at a time during his stay at Mithril Castle, as well as with the Lady Kaeglin and others. One of them he especially liked to talk to was Lady Lindorie, Steward of the Mithril Knights. She was a little older than he, being born only 1 year before the Rising of the Moon, and had therefore experienced every year of the world from the 1st Age until the present. They became good friends sooner than soon, and really all the Mithril Knights enjoyed Linkallon’s company as much as he enjoyed theirs.
=== Lord Brimnon approached Linkallon one day, asking him if he would consent to join the Mithril Knights in their cause, becoming one himself. Of course Linkallon agreed instantly. Linkallon felt as if he had gained another family in the Mithril Knights of Evendim. And so a new collection of adventures began for Linkallon Huorníth.

[Kalon Ordona II]

---

This tale follows the paths of Morikoru Seregond of the Avari, from his birth in 1674 of the Second Age, to the years around 1100 of the Third, during the first stirrings of darkness that signaled the return of Sauron.

---

Morikoru barely remembered his parents. He barely even remembered his own name, for the parents that bestowed it on him were lost when he was only twenty. He didn't even remember how they died--only that they were murdered. He knew not who slew them or why, and the questions burned inside him.
All on his own he managed to survive in Taur Luin, beyond the Red Mountains to the East. For hundreds of years he wandered the forests, and all the while his soul was being eaten up, bit by bit, by the hate, by the anger, and by the one question: Why? Every day he tried to put such thoughts out of his mind, only to find his dreams haunted and his life growing meaningless.

There was a time when Morikoru could remember those years if he dared... but now, many thousands of years later, he dare not. Or perhaps it was that his instincts would not allow him to, that he'd trained his mind day by day to forget. Even when nightmares of his past came every so often, he would forget. He would forget it all in his constant slaying.
Yes, he could lose himself in the thrill of power, in the endless screams of death that flew to his ears, in the lust of battle and the refining of skill.

Back then, when at last he could no longer stand to wander in the woods another day, when he'd crossed the mountains and passed onto the wide plains on the other side, he'd felt such freedom... as if he could leave it all behind. But that feeling was lost as his haunted dreams returned, chasing him no matter how far across empty lands he managed to go. He'd slain his first during that time... when a group of copper-skinned plainsmen attacked him just for attempting (and failing because of his foreign tongue) to ask them for food. They sought to kill him, but he killed them. He'd found that he was naturally swifter than they were, even in his weakened state. They couldn't touch him with their clumsy weapons. They couldn't stop him as he took a man's own sword and used it against him. That man's death was only the first, for, foolish enough to continue the fight, the men renewed their assault with a vengeance, not realizing their doom. And before Morikoru knew it, he had slain the entire caravan.
He didn't even stop to think what had happened until after he'd eaten his fill of their supplies. When he finally did... when finally he realized what he'd done... how many he'd slain... the knowledge tore at him, ravaged him and did not cease. After he'd marched endlessly across the plain, and an answer had still not come to him, he was left with only one thought:
Only the strongest survive in this world. The strong live, and the weak... die.

From that day, all he could think about was becoming stronger. If a troubled memory surged up to cloud that thought, he shoved it down... again, and again, and again, until the action became a reflex. Nightmares still haunted him now and then, but he always pushed the horrid thoughts violently back down again.
Thus he lived, and thus he lived when he came to the lands of Rhûn. Dwelling among the Easterlings he learned to fight, learned to kill, learned all he could, and would not think of his haunted past.
Gradually, his knowledge of the world increased. Somehow some of the men of the place accepted him and taught him. They showed him maps, they taught him their language, theirs and all they knew of the elves'.
Over time the men saw something in this elf that had come among them. Every time Morikoru killed, the men of the East saw no effect on him. Even their most hardened warriors regretted the lives they took to some degree, but this elf from the farther East... no trace of remorse or regret could they find beneath his stone-like manner, his heart's blood as cold and hard as stone. So they chose an elvish name to add to his first; they called this heart of stone, this elf who slew without pity, Seregond.

After a time, Morikoru Seregond learned of the great Power in the neighboring land of Mordor--a barren waste of charred earth, the breeding-place of a race called "orcs." The Easterlings were loyal to the great Lord of Mordor, the Dark Lord Sauron, and Morikoru saw no reason why they should not have been.
In Mordor, there was strength.
To Mordor, Morikoru Seregond was resolved to go.

Morikoru remembered those times clearly. Although the Lord Sauron had been defeated back then, he himself had learned much of the ways of war, and had slain many. Over the course of those battles, he'd learned which weapon he most favored: the sword. So, in the early years of the Third Age, he'd returned to Rhûn to have a custom sword made... a great sword that could never be sheathed.
Even now Morikoru gazed at the sword in his hands with admiration. Altogether, blade and hilt, the sword was almost as tall as he was himself. The blade was fashioned as a two-handed weapon, though Morikoru had the strength to wield it one-handed if he chose. It was no stabbing weapon; its slight curve at the end made it ideal for wide slashing arcs, with the blade's tip the most deadly part. To behold, it was simple yet elegant... not wrought all over with symbols and runes, not lavished with decoration, yet beautiful in craft and pleasing to the eye. And, true to Seregond's purpose, it was made so large that it could not possibly be sheathed. Even better, the sword being made of the finest smiths in the East, from its blade blood flowed and did not stain, and its edge did not grow duller but sharper every time Morikoru used it. Its blade was, by now, very sharp indeed.

Morikoru Seregond ceased his thoughts, and looked up from the stone on which he sat. The dead bodies of a village militia scattered on the stony ground all about him--nothing but a day's slaughter. These days, a subtle feeling had been growing stronger every day, and just now the feeling had come again. He now knew--for there was no other explanation: The Dark Lord... the Lord Sauron... must have returned....

[Kalon Ordona II]

Username: Calanon
Name: Kalon Ordona II
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Title: First Prince of Orinia
Race: Orinian
Appearance:
Kalon wears the green Orinian garb of his people. But, ever since he was chosen to aid the High King of Mythica, he has equipped the Luxian armor he acuired during his visit to Solaria.

Personality: brave and wise, kind but sometimes harsh, with a nobility that borders on arrogance. Yet he has gained temperance and a measure of gentleness from his years running from the throne.

Birthplace: Oakwood City, Orinia
Current home: none
Class: Swordsman

Family:
father (52)-- Kalon Ordona I, King of Orinia
mother (38)-- Rita Ordona, Queen of Orinia
brother (would be 17)-- Talon Ordona, Second Prince of Orinia [deceased]
sister (16)-- Malon Ordona, Princess of Orinia. She will eventually take the Orinian throne in place of her brothers.
uncle (would be 50)-- Fado Ordona [deceased]
grandfather (71)-- Ranaff Kofarin of Orinia
grandmother (68)-- Rita Kofarin of Orinia

Other: Kalon's constant companion is a male wolf named Faron, who met and befriended Kalon on his return from Luxia when he was 17.

Bio: Kalon II had been trained for royal life for the whole of his childhood. Overwhelmed and reluctant to accept a life of duty and exposure, he left his royal inheritance and privileges to his younger brother Talon and fled the forests of Orinia at 14. He wandered his way to the Luxia province and managed to find a ranch near Sungaze City, kind-hearted enough to take him in but wise enough not to proclaim his identity too loudly. There he learned horsemanship and the ways of the sword, and he grew to love the brightness and wide plains of Luxia.
More than three years had passed when, one day, a messenger from Orinia found him there. He had been searching for the young prince for over a year, bringing grave news of tragic death of Talon, Second Prince of Orinia. That day, Kalon's life was turned up-side down.
Traveling with their uncle Fado Ordona and a group of courtiers and guards, Talon and the company had been ambushed and slain. The burial ceremony had been delayed until Kalon's return.
From then on, Kalon assumed once again his inheritance as the Prince of Orinia... but fate had other plans.
The young Prince was 18, barely mid-way through his ninteenth year, when the High King's summons came.

---

Username: Calanon
Name: Faron
Age: ...at least 17 in dog years
Gender: Male
Title: none
Race: Wolfos, Umbrian/Orinian
Appearance:

Personality: cunning, loyal, intuitive, wise

Birthplace: somewhere deep within the forests of Ordinia
Current home: wherever Prince Kalon Ordona II happens to be
Class: Thief

Family:
mother-- Farore, a Wolfos of Orinia
father-- Fyron, a Wolfos of Umbria

Bio: Wolfos are creatures of wolvenkind, capable of creative thinking and moral judgment. Unlike wolves, Wolfos do not form packs; once Wolfos are a certain age, able to fend for themselves, they rarely see their parents or family again. They are the lords of wolvenkind in the land of Mystica, and a wolf pack with a Wolfos at its head is a force to be reckoned with.
Faron grew up in the forests of Orinia and knows the lands well.
In addition, he had always been comfortable around the other races of Mystica, and had often conversed with those of Ordinian blood. Seeing Prince Kalon II for the first time, he felt an instinct of fate pulling at his soul. He befriended the young prince and the two have become inseparable.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Prince Kalon got up from the ground, while the Black Knight, General Vixus, slowly advanced on the group.

"So it was you who poisoned the creatures of my forest, you who made my people suffer!"

The knight's smile only got bigger.
Such arrogance, such strength, even when he'd taken such a beating! It seemed words were useless except to feed him, as if he drew power from the pain of others.
It was all Kalon could do to hold his ground against the knight's steady approach. He looked around at his companions, still struggling to their feet. Then he realized, Faron was missing!

Faron was more than just a huge wolf. He was a Wolfos. He must be sneaking around for a surprise attack. Maybe there was a chance, after all!

* * * * *

The General from the palace... the Black Knight... who has apparently been the one behind all our hardships so far. And all to obtain even more strength. Why do some humans have such a lust for power?
Faron's thoughts were becoming a distraction. He knew he had to concentrate on the next step, but the vices of humanity were still too much for him to understand. Finally he forced himself to dismiss his questions and get back into focus.

Kalon was up, at the ready, and others were joining him now. It looked like the group would have to battle the Black Knight all over again. Everyone was weakened, but the knight must be as well. A surprise attack might give the group the edge they need.
Faron was moving in the underbrush, circling silently around the enemy, just within striking distance.
All Faron had to do was wait for just the right moment. Kalon was aware by now of what was going on; just watch him, and wait.......

[Kalon Ordona II]

Mokoru was an Avanal with the mark of a black mamba (largest venomous snake in africa, supposedly the fastest in the world). Mokoru's father, his mother had told him, was a black dragon. His mother, a crocodile of high status, had sojourned for a time in Kaoden and dallied with a black dragon, who cast her away when it was discovered she was with child. Mokoru was raised back in Dylinae where his mother was from. Since his blood had dragon in it, Mokoru could have risen high in status at court, but Mokoru wanted nothing to do with the ruling classes. His bitterness ran deep.

Mokoru became one of the deadliest assassins in Dylinae. His strong reputation attracted a beautiful noblewoman of Blancanis into his bed, and she later convinced him to marry her. Their son was born with the mark of a black wolf, and they named him Morgon.

Morgon grew up learning well everything his parents taught him. Pride, bearing and sophistication he learned from his mother of pure white wolf blood, while his bastard father taught him the art of stealth and speed. Despite Mokoru's occupation and the lack of moral teaching, there was a kind of genuine love in the family.

As soon as Mokoru's age became apparent in his diminishing skill, Morgon's parents were murdered in the night by a squad of assassins paid insanely well by a noble who was to be Mokoru's next target. All sixteen members of the squad were also killed--Morgon arrived in time to finish off three of them--but Mokoru had taken so many wounds that he could never have survived. His mother was murdered almost from the beginning of the attack. Mokoru died in Morgon's arms; he had not been able to speak parting words to his son, but he had placed a hand on Morgon's shoulder and looked with love into his son's eyes--the last thing he saw before he passed on.

Morgon fled from Dylinae and traveled the whole of Davenil, making a very good living as a professional thief. Morgon frequented taverns in every city he went; he never drank--he was there for gossip. One fateful night in a tavern in Koalane, when Morgon was twenty-five, his interest was piqued when he saw two young women in a far corner--both appeared barely old enough to be in the building, and yet their eyes were alert and observing. Before long, the three were chatting and comparing tales.

Shana was marked a panther. She was the older of the two, at twenty-four; she was extremely intuitive, insightful, intelligent. Tahlan, a cross between a koala mark and a diluted wolf mark [a tasmanian devil! xD], was twenty-one and fiesty--usually cheerful but with a nasty temper on a hair trigger. Both had black hair, like Morgon's, and both were also professional thieves who, being childhood friends during their hard lives, worked as a team.
The three had so much in common, it was like finding long lost family. Bonds were formed and never broken: the three were inseparable from that day on.

Morgon, Shana and Tahlan did not start thieving together until months after they'd met. By that time, both Shana and Tahlan believed Morgon was telling the truth when he said he was the son of Mokoru of Dylinae; and so, when it came time to choose a name for their professional entity, the Mokoru Thieves was the most logical choice.

Morgon Mokoru
Played By: Kalon_Ordona_II
Association: the Mokoru Thieves
Age: 30
Species: Avanal
Animal Connection: Black Wolf
Body Type: Lithe, athletic. Height: 6'1"
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black
Residence: none

Personality and Mentality: The dark side of idealism. Morgon was never really taught morals by his parents, but he has some idea what love and friendship is. Still, ruthlessness and avarice are not strangers to his mentality. He has a strong sense of pride, and this also translates into a code of honor. Morgon's demeanor is down-to-earth and upright.
Skills and Talents: Stealth, speed, and a direct form of combat. Morgon is deft with a long knife and deadly with thrown objects, and he can pick almost any kind of lock. Morgon is also well acquainted with the forms of nobility, and walks tall with an almost royal air.
Family: Mokoru of Dylinae, a renowned assassin with the mark of a Black Mamba, was Morgon's father--the product of dallying Avanals marked with the Black Dragon and the Crocodile. Morgon's mother, Hala, had the blood of almost pure White Wolf. When Morgon was 20 years old, both Morgon's parents were murdered one night by a squad of sixteen assassins hired by a noble who was Mokoru's next target. Hala was killed early in the attack--there were so many that Mokoru was unable to save her. By the time Morgon arrived and helped his father fight off the killers, Mokoru didn't have a chance of surviving his wounds. Mokoru died in Morgon's arms.
Relationships: Shana and Tahlan are like sisters to him, and have been ever since he met them in Koalane when he was 25. Together, they are the three members of the Mokoru Thieves. In the back of his mind, Morgon can't decide if his affection for Shana is as family or as a lover.
Tale: Morgon was raised in Dylinae during the peak of his father's career. Born with natural talent, Morgon learned well everything Mokoru taught him. His mother, who had run away from her noble home in Blancanis before marrying Mokoru, ensured Morgon a proper education and instruction in the ways of nobility. After his parents were killed, Morgon fled Dylinae and traveled all around Davenil practicing his art as a professional thief. One day, in a tavern in Koalane, Morgon met and almost instantly bonded with Shana and Tahlan--they all had so much in common. Soon after, when Shana and Tahlan knew Morgon so well that they believed his claim to be the son of Mokoru of Dylinae, the three became the Mokoru Thieves.
Misc.: Morgon has excellent fashion sense. He can make the Mokoru Thieves look VERY good in black.

Shana
Played By: Kalon_Ordona_II
Association: the Mokoru Thieves
Age: 29
Species: Avanal
Animal Connection: Panther
Body Type: Lithe, graceful. Height: 5'11"
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Residence: none

Personality and Mentality: Shana is intuitive, insightful, and intelligent. She is assertive but without manipulation or blustering. Shana has two modes: pleasant and sober.
Skills and Talents: Stealth and agility. Shana's weapon is a thin, curved scimitar, and she knows how to use it with lethal precision and efficiency. She can also pick a lock, but not quite as well as Tahlan or Morgon.
Family: Shana never remembered her family. Her whole life was the streets of a city in Koalane. That was where she met Tahlan. Shana and Tahlan are closer than sisters.
Relationships: Ever since Shana was 14 years old, she and Tahlan have been inseparable. Morgon came along ten years later, and had so much in common with them that he became like a brother to them both. In the back of her mind, Shana can't decide whether her affection for Morgon is as family or as a lover.
Tale: There isn't much to tell. Shana was on the streets for as long as she can remember. When she was 14, she met a young outcast and found a kindred spirit. The two stole for a living, and were experts at it before many years had passed, considering themselves professionals by the time they could slip in and out of houses unnoticed. When Morgon came along, the three formed the Mokoru Thieves and raised the stakes. They were soon so infamous that they had to keep moving from city to city, and they have been doing so ever since.
Misc.: When Shana wields her scimitar, Morgon and Tahlan say she looks like she's dancing. Sometimes Shana wonders whether, if she'd had a better chance at life, she might have become a dancer. It is something she keeps to herself.

Tahlan
Played By: Kalon_Ordona_II
Association: the Mokoru Thieves
Age: 26
Species: Avanal
Animal Connection: Koala/Wolf hybrid [Tasmanian Devil]
Body Type: Slight of build. Height: 5'3"
Hair: Black
Eyes: Red
Residence: none

Personality and Mentality: Tahlan is usually very cheerful. However, there is a very nasty side to her, a fierce temper on a hair trigger. She is very much the proverbial forehead-curl girl. Tahlan is quick-minded, but ideas easily slip from her head; as a result, she relies heavily on her instincts. Also, because she can forget such good ideas so easily, Shana and Morgon always pay attention to everything she says, and are always on the lookout for the little tips from Tahlan's body language that tell them 'Tahlan is getting something, so we'd better shut up and let he spit it out.'
Skills and Talents: Stealth, stamina, and surprising strength for so light a frame. Tahlan is brutal in combat, slicing with two knives in a fierce rage that is psychologically disarming to enemies, bellowing at the top of her lungs--with blood-chilling effect--as she puts all her body into every motion. Truly a big surprise in a small package. Also, though Tahlan cannot open some of the locks Morgon can, Tahlan is easily the fastest of the three at lock-picking.
Family: Tahlan once belonged to a low-status noble house, but her temper was so fierce that none of her family knew how to handle her. Tahlan doesn't remember much of it, as she was so young at the time. She went from place to place, never in one spot for very long, and eventually ended up abandoned to the streets by whoever had charge of her at the time. Tahlan was 8 years old. For three years she survived, barely, mostly through force of will. Then she met Shana, and everything changed for the better. Tahlan sees Shana as her only true family.
Relationships: Ever since Tahlan was 11 years old, she and Shana have been inseparable. Morgon came along ten years later, and had so much in common with them that he became like a brother to them both. Tahlan thinks Morgon and Shana would make a perfect couple, but she keeps it to herself.
Tale: After Tahlan met Shana, the two helped each other survive the streets. They stole for a living, and became very good at it very quickly. The two were always raising the stakes, trying to see what they could get away with. They considered themselves professionals by the time they met Morgon. When Morgon and they decided to become the Mokoru Thieves, it was a whole new world of adventure for Tahlan. After a few months of high-stakes thievery, the three began traveling from place to place. Tahlan couldn't have been happier to get away from the streets of her old city.
Misc.: Tahlan has no idea what to call her inner beast. She has never seen anyone else with her same mark. Sometimes she feels lonely, other times she feels special.

the Mokoru Thieves


Morgon Mokoru
Shana
Tahlan

Played By: Kalon_Ordona_II

Association: the Mokoru Thieves

Ages: Morgon: 30, Shana: 29, Tahlan, 26

Species: Avanal

Animal Connections:
Morgon: a Black Wolf
Shana: a Panther
Tahlan: a Koala/Wolf hybrid [Tasmanian Devil]

Body Types:
Morgon: Lithe, athletic. Height: 6'1"
Shana: Lithe, graceful. Height: 5'11"
Tahlan: Slight of build. Height: 5'3"

Hair: All three have black hair.

Eyes: Morgon: Black, Shana: Green, Tahlan: Red

Residence: none; the three travel almost constantly

Personality and Mentality:
Morgon's personality can be summed up as the dark side of idealism. Morgon was never really taught morals by his parents, but he has some idea what love and friendship is. Still, ruthlessness and avarice are not strangers to his mentality. He has a strong sense of pride, and this also translates into a code of honor. Morgon's demeanor is down-to-earth and upright.

Shana is intuitive, insightful, and intelligent. She is assertive but without manipulation or blustering. Shana has two modes: pleasant, and sober.

Tahlan is usually very cheerful. However, there is a very nasty side to her, a fierce temper on a hair trigger. She is very much the proverbial forehead-curl girl. Tahlan is quick-minded, but ideas easily slip from her head; as a result, she relies heavily on her instincts. Also, because she can forget such good ideas so easily, Shana and Morgon always pay attention to everything she says, and are always on the lookout for the little tips from Tahlan's body language that tell them 'Tahlan is getting something, so we'd better shut up and let he spit it out.'

Skills and Talents:
Morgon: Stealth, speed, and a direct form of combat. Morgon is deft with a long knife and deadly with thrown objects, and he can pick almost any kind of lock. Morgon is also well acquainted with the forms of nobility, and walks tall with an almost royal air.

Shana: Stealth and agility. Shana's weapon is a thin, curved scimitar, and she knows how to use it with lethal precision and efficiency. She can also pick a lock, but not quite as well as Tahlan or Morgon.

Tahlan: Stealth, stamina, and surprising strength for so light a frame. Tahlan is brutal in combat, slicing with two knives in a fierce rage that is psychologically disarming to enemies, bellowing at the top of her lungs--with blood-chilling effect--as she puts all her body into every motion. Truly a big surprise in a small package. Also, though Tahlan cannot open some of the locks Morgon can, Tahlan is easily the fastest of the three at lock-picking.

Family:
None of the Mokoru Thieves has any true family besides each other.
Mokoru's parents were killed when he was 20.
Shana never knew her parents.
Tahlan doesn't remember her parents.

The three are closer than siblings.

Relationships:
In the back of his mind, Morgon can't decide if his affection for Shana is as family or as a lover.
In the back of her mind, Shana can't decide if her affection for Morgon is as family or as a lover.
Tahlan thinks Morgon and Shana would make a perfect couple, but she keeps it to herself.

Tale:
The Mokoru Thieves are named after Morgon's father, Mokoru, who was an assassin of great renown in Dylinae.

Mokoru's mother was a high-standing noblewoman of Dylinae; she once sojourned in Koalane, where she dallied with Mokoru's sire, only to be cast away when he found out she was with child; all Mokoru knew of him was that he had the mark of some black reptile. Mokoru's mark is a black serpent [a black mamba--second most venomous in Africa and supposedly the fastest in the world].

Mokoru grew up bitter and resentful. His mother was the only one who ever cared for him. Mokoru would never have been allowed in the circles of nobility, and besides, he possessed rare skills for stealth and speed. He was a natural as an assassin, and quickly developed a reputation. By chance, it was his reputation that lured Hala, a noblewoman of Blancanis into his bed. She convinced him to marry her--he agreed partly because he had come to care for her and partly to prove to himself that he actually was worthy of nobility. They soon had a son; the child bore the mark of a black wolf, and was named Morgon.

Far away, in a city in Koalane, roughly a year later, Shana was born. Shana knows nothing at all of her parents and virtually nothing of her childhood--only that it was very hard. The streets of the city was all she ever knew.

About three years after Shana was born, Tahlan was born in the same city. A noblewoman of low standing in Koalane dallied with a dashing young wolf. Tahlan was the result, born with red eyes and a temper to match. By the time Tahlan was three, her mother had had enough of Tahlan's unexplainable innate ferocity. Tahlan went from caretaker to caretaker until, at 8 years of age, she was abandoned to the streets.

Shana was 14 when she met Tahlan. The young girl of 11 years had stayed alive, barely, on little more than force of will. Shana was the first person to understand Tahlan. The two helped each other survive, stealing for a living and quickly becoming quite adept. Before many years had passed, the two could slip in and out of houses--and take anything they wanted--completely unnoticed. By then, they considered themselves professionals.

Meanwhile, Morgon grew up learning well everything his parents taught him. His mother, who had run away from her noble home in Blancanis before marrying Mokoru, ensured Morgon a proper education and instruction in the ways of nobility. His father, at the peak of his career as an assassin, gave Morgon the benefit of all his knowledge and training.
Though there was no moral code to speak of, there was still a kind of love in the family. Morgon came to see vice as weakness and honor as strength.

By the time Morgon was 20 years old, Mokoru's age started to become apparent. As soon as his skills showed the slightest sign of diminishing, a squad of sixteen assassins were hired--by a noble who was to be Mokoru's next target--to kill Mokoru and his family. The squad attacked at night. There were so many, Mokoru couldn't save Hala from being killed early on in the fight. Morgon was elsewhere in the house, and by the time he arrived on the scene to help his father fight off the rest (all sixteen were killed), it was too late for Mokoru--he'd taken too many wounds.
Collapsed on the ground, wounded as he was, Mokoru had not been able to speak parting words to his son. He had, at least, placed a hand on Morgon's shoulder and looked with love into his son's eyes. It was the last thing he saw; Mokoru died in Morgon's arms.

Morgon buried his parents and fled Dylinae. He traveled the whole of Davenil, making a very good living as a professional thief. Morgon frequented taverns in every city he went; he never drank--he was there for gossip. One fateful night in a tavern in Koalane, when Morgon was 25, his interest was piqued when he saw two young women in a far corner; both appeared barely old enough to be in the building, and yet their eyes were alert and observing.
Before long, the three were chatting and comparing tales. Both for Morgon and for Shana and Tahlan, it was like finding long lost family. They had so much in common. It was as if the three were destined to come together. Strong bonds were formed, and the three were inseparable after that.

Several months after they met, Shana and Tahlan knew Morgon well enough that they believed his claim to be the son of Mokoru of Dylinae. Hence, when the three decided to form a professional team of thieves, 'the Mokoru Thieves' was a logical choice for the perfect name.
The Mokoru Thieves plied their trade in Koalane for several months, until they'd grown too infamous to stay. They have been traveling Davenil ever since, and Shana and Tahlan could not have been happier to get away from their old life.

The reputation of the mysterious Mokoru Thieves grew steadily over the years. The tamest tales make them out to be shadows in the night who could and would steal anything from anyone, vanishing without a trace. The wilder tales had them as black demons pillaging from town to town, drinking blood, stealing souls and haunting mansions. The reality would have been somewhat disappointing to romantics like that, but regardless, the Mokoru Thieves are surely a force to be reckoned with.

Misc.:
Morgon has excellent fashion sense. He can make the Mokoru Thieves look VERY good in black.

When Shana wields her scimitar, Morgon and Tahlan say she looks like she's dancing. Sometimes Shana wonders whether, if she'd had a better chance at life, she might have become a dancer. It is something she keeps to herself.

Tahlan has no idea what to call her inner beast. She has never seen anyone else with her same mark. Sometimes she feels lonely, other times she feels special.

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. : Excerpt : .

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Ring One: Tahlan's Fight!

The trumpeters gave a long, loud blare, and the crowds roared their approval.
The fights were begun!

Tahlan stood tall and straight as all 30 of the other fighters in her ring charged madly at one another. Her eyes were practically glowing red as her face split in a bone-chilling grin. She didn't even draw her knives. This time, she was going to use everyone else's weapons--and she was going to enjoy it.

A bulky, half-naked man with a huge spear noticed her standing there, and charged in her direction, thinking to avoid the melee in the center of the ring. He thrust with his spear, expecting an easy victory. What he got, was an empty feeling in his hand as the spear slipped from his grasp, followed by a burning sensation as a bloody gash appeared on his chest from shoulder to hip. He was tough; he'd live; Tahlan didn't much care. Tahlan shoved the butt end of the spear into his kneecaps, snapping them wrong way. One down, twenty-nine to go.

Tahlan's heart started to beat faster. She felt an adrenaline rush. Into the melee she dove. She stabbed one man through the back, dropping the spear and rushing the opponent he had been facing--a rogue wielding two knives. Tahlan rolled her eyes.

The rogue was quick--he managed to graze her arm with a lucky strike--but he wasn't quick enough. She finally managed to grab one of his hands, slice off the other hand with his own knife, and lift both knives while he resorted to punches and kicks in attempt to catch her off guard. It didn't work, but he still took several slices and stabs before collapsing to the ground, trying to crawl away. She let him; there were still twenty-seven opponents left. Make that twenty-two--some had died already. She had to hurry or she'd miss some action.

Tahlan started running here and there slicing randomly. With each strike, each spray of blood, she felt more and more the familiar blood thirst welling up. She started breathing hard, grunting with every strike. Every so often she'd change weapons. Two knives became a knife and a short sword, a javelin, and a pole-axe.

The axe did a lot of damage, but it kept her from moving too fast. At the moment, that was what she was interested in. No more rushing about. Time for a little king-of-the-hill. Tahlan was gagging for blood now. She tugged at a twinge of madness and bellowed a raw, wordless cry as she started swinging.
She made sure the axe didn't hit opponents solidly enough to stop her swing, and kept up her momentum, arcing back and forth, over and under, spraying blood in every direction.

By now, the other fourteen fighters were getting the idea. Several started rushing her at once. The axe had served its purpose; Tahlan dropped it. She tackled the nearest opponent and rolled over him, relieving him of his mace in the process. Tahlan liked maces, but it wouldn't do for now. She through it at someone's head. He managed to dodge it, and it made a nasty wound in the shoulder of the next person behind him.

Tahlan was about to grab something else--when a javelin sprouted in her own shoulder! Her light frame was knocked to the ground, and she grunt ed as she pulled the javelin free, before anyone could take advantage. She rolled to her feet in time to see a knife twirling in her direction. That wasn't too smart; they weren't going to catch her like that again.

Tahlan caught the knife out of the air and bellowed that scream of hers once more, leaping knife first into the first neck she saw, slicing it half open as they tumbled to the ground. She tossed the knife away toward whoever was stupid enough to let it hit him. Enough borrowing weapons; Tahlan finally drew her knives.

Ducking, dodging and rolling right through everyone, her knives were everywhere at once. At such close quarters, several managed to tackle her to the ground. This was part of Tahlan's strategy--using human shields as she used their own weight against them. She went with the fall, slicing whoever was on top of her and rolling away, springing up and starting again, screaming with every savage cut.

By that time, the last eight warriors didn't stand much of a chance anymore--there weren't enough to overpower her, and even when there had been they were all too busy stabbing each other in the backs to be very effective. However, as that number dropped one by one, the harder it was for Tahlan to dispatch them so quickly. By the time there was one left, she'd collected quite a collection of bruises and wounds.

The last warrior carried a curved blade, and was blindingly fast with it. He had a collection of wounds to match Tahlan's.

In the ensuing duel, neither of them took any more wounds. The swordsman was too fast and Tahlan was too observant for anything to strike. The grin returned to Tahlan's face. She knew it would be a waiting game, and few people had Tahlan's stamina. As she expected, the Swordsman was showing signs of fatigue. He hadn't slipped yet, but Tahlan was watching--she would be ready when he did.

She didn't have to wait long. In their rapid clash of steel, the swordsman knew he was losing ground. He put out one last burst of energy. Tahlan matched it. The two were slicing air for several seconds, dodging and cutting and dodging, until Tahlan's knife met the man's sword with such force that it knocked it aside. She brought both her knives down on his thighs, then at his shoulders. He went down, and Tahlan stood over him panting.

The healers were allowed in as soon as Tahlan exited the ring. By her count, about a quarter of the combatants died, and several others would die of their wounds. Not many, compared to the usual two-thirds average casualty ratio in fights like these.

Tahlan was escorted to the winners' circle, where Shana, and a few others, were waiting.


Ring Four: Morgon's Fight!

The trumpeters gave a long, loud blare, and the crowds roared their approval.
The fights were begun!

Morgon gauged his sixteen opponents. Four had spears, eight had blades of differing sizes, and three had axes. There was only one thief; Morgon decided to save him for last, if the man survived. Half the contestants were huge and muscular. The rest, somehow, looked even more menacing. Morgon picked one, one carrying a longsword. He caught his opponent's eyes, drew his long knife, and dashed straight toward him. In the chaos of the erupting fight, he seemed little more than a black blur.

The bladesman managed to time his swing in time with Morgon's arrival, but it did him no good. Morgon ducked under, around, and made three cuts in the man's back. The man let out a cry and sank to the ground. Morgon almost thought the man might lose control and change to his animal, but it didn't happen. You didn't join fights like these if you didn't have solid control of your inner beast. One slip, and next thing you know you're back and armorless, weaponless, vulnerable.

Morgon kept selecting opponents and dispatching them in a similar fashion. As the numbers dwindled, the fights got better. Pretty soon the duels were lasting minutes at a time, but still no one could match Morgon's speed.

The thief wasn't the last one standing, as he'd thought. He was further surprised when his final opponent was an axeman. Morgon could not for the life of him imagine how that had happened--he would relish finding out. The man didn't even have many wounds on him, just scratches. Morgon himself hadn't taken even one, but that was more or less to be expected. This man was huge, all muscle and menace, and had little armor.

Morgon saluted with his long knife, and dashed directly at his opponent the way he always did. The man swung his axe. It connected with Morgon's knife and sent it skidding along the ground--with Morgon hanging on. The swing was far faster than it should have been! The man was apparently even stronger than he looked.

Morgon got up. This was going to be good. The two circled each other, then charged. They met, clashed, and Morgon was again sent flying. This time, he landed on his feet. But his knife had an ugly notch in it. Morgon lost interest in winning, but he still wanted a good fight. A notched knife would do little good. If he got rid of the man's axe, maybe they'd have a fun little brawl.

Morgon charged again. They clashed, but Morgon rolled with his opponent's strike, leaped up and separated the axe's blade from its handle in one hard stroke.

He leaped away. For fun, he threw his unwanted knife at his opponent. The man stopped, quick as a cat, and brought the severed axe head up as a shield to deflect the knife. He then smiled, threw the blade aside, and stalked toward Morgon.
Morgon advanced right back, and the ensuing fist fight was on of the best Morgon had ever been in. Speed and agility versus speed and power. Agility rarely won when power had speed to match. Morgon fancied he might have tried harder to win, but this opponent deserved the prize--it wasn't a very useful prize anyway.

Still, that last fight in Ring Four lasted until the other rings were empty. Finally Morgon surrendered. The two smiled and nodded at one another.
"Well I had fun; it's all yours," Morgon said, bowing dramatically, looking black and blue all over. The big man chuckled, and nodded again, and grinned.
"You put up a good fight, little guy."
It was Morgon's turn to chuckle. "Don't push it," he said, still smiling.

After the man was escorted to the winners' circle, Morgon went to wait for Tahlan and Shana as the winners were announced.


Ring Seven: Shana's Fight!

The trumpeters gave a long, loud blare, and the crowds roared their approval.
The fights were begun!

Shana opened here eyes and hefted her sword, striking a pose with the sword extended toward the center of the ring. Taking deep breaths, she re-focused her vision. She saw nothing but moving opponents. She did not try to distinguish them much from each other. Rather than focusing on one at a time, she kept her eyes on all of them at once--all and none.

Then she began the dance.

She took measured, leaping strides into the chaotic combat of twenty-five other warriors.

Though her ring had the second-highest number of combatants, her fight was over first. It was as if the whole thing was choreographed just for her. Her long, slender blade rose and fell, twirled and arced through the mass of foes. She leaped, flipped, ducked and dodged with fluid grace. Any obstacle was nothing more than another movement of the dance.

Needless to say, Ring Seven drew a lot of attention from the audience.
When the finishing strike defeated the last of her opponents, Shana finished her dance holding her blade out at the end of the follow-through of that final blow. A swelling could be heard in the crowd's constant cheering. When it finally died, Shana stood up, straight and tall.

Escorted from the ring, she arrived first at the winners' circle.

[Kalon Ordona II]

GaiaName: Kalon_Ordona_II
Character Name: Faron Mokoru
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Personality: Ambitious, Calm and Collected, with a strong sense of inner peace.
Appearance:
Class: Soldier > Halberdier
Nation of Birth: Hiro
Service: Black Wolf Mercenaries
Weapons: Lance
Bio: Faron's home is in the forested outskirts of Umoshu village, near the capital of Hiro. His father, Davin, was the head of a mercenary group employed by the royal army before he married and settled down in Umoshu to start a family. Faron's older sister married and set up a home next to their parents'. Faron wasn't content with that life--he'd inherited his father's spirit. He was a natural with a lance, same as his father, and he hoped to go out and put his skill to use.

Faron Mokoru left home when he was 19 and wandered the surrounding area, sometimes taking on menial mercenary-type work between his adventures exploring. He was the type to expand his area of travel gradually, rather than traveling straight from one city to the next. Having grown up in the woods, his love of nature only increased with his travels.

By 21, Faron had gotten considerable experience in actual combat, as opposed to the rigorous but controlled training he'd had with his father. He'd also acquired some decent equipment and saved up a fair amount of money. Faron eventually traveled to Remora, the great capital city, and decided to stay for a while. He had lived in Remora for almost a year, when the city fell prey to a sudden, brutal assault.

Theme Song: FE:PoR -- The First Fight

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. : Excerpt : .

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Faron was just finishing his first friend's bandages again, when a new threat appeared. Over the course of the battles, Faron and the guard's group had grown, shrunk when some were killed, and grown again. At present there were Faron himself, the armored swordsman, two armored lancers and four guards armed with swords and light armor. There was one other, a wind mage not connected with the royal army, of notable skill. Faron, with his collected state of mind and slightly greater skill, had become the unofficial leader of the group until the fight was over.

The enemy that faced them now seemed more skilled than most of Faron's group. At least Faron's group had the advantage of numbers. Faron was alert and directing formation. "Armors, up front, quick! They don't have any mages with them! Swords behind and fan out!" He didn't bother giving instruction to the mage--that one obviously knew what he was doing. He wouldn't have needed to direct the others either, except Faron had seen the enemy before they did and had reacted immediately.
"Daren said kill them all! Get them!" one of the enemy heavy swordsmen bellowed. Faron noted the name--Daren, probably an enemy commander.
Everyone was in position, the enemy closing. Faron yelled "Charge!"

The two groups clashed. The two enemy archers fired: one missed, the other took out a swordsman through the head. Faron's mage set to work on the archers first; they were stupid enough to fire at the mage, whom they missed every time, and were soon seriously injured.
At the same time, the two men with huge blades were making dents in royal armor and dodging royal lances. Faron rushed between them and sliced one with his lance on the way. The heavy guard saw the chance and ran the same enemy through with his sword. Faron, confident that the rest could handle the other heavy blade, took on the three enemy soldiers advancing on the mage. They were better than he expected, and he had to give some ground after taking a wound. Faron brutally stabbed the one who had wounded him and managed to block the another's quick thrust. The last one was exceptionally quick and might have seriously wounded Faron, but the wind mage drove the enemy lance off course. Faron stabbed three times in quick succession. By then the second enemy blade had been beaten. The other soldier Faron was fighting tried to flee, but the mage took him down.

Everyone tended their wounds--most of which were light--as quickly as they could. The armors were fine but took the opportunity to assess their equipment. Faron's mind was working quickly. This enemy had come from inside the palace. That meant the enemy was winning inside, or worse, had already taken it! Faron couldn't decide what to do: his every instinct screamed to re-take the palace, but that was suicide if the palace had already full of enemy troops. He turned to the rest of the group and voiced his thoughts, asking for their opinions. The three remaining less-experienced guards were obviously apprehensive, and Faron couldn't blame them.
"If we can form a stronger group, we might stand a small chance. Not that I think it would be wise." That was the mage.
The guard, who had been trying to speak when the mage interrupted, said, "I was saying I know several secret passages. We might be able to assess the situation without being seen."
"Really?" Faron was relieved. "That's decided me, then. I'm going, if no one else is."
"I would have to go without most of my armor, though. I don't think I'd be much use without it," the guard cautioned.
"And I'm definitely not going inside there unless we DO collect a greater force. At least a few thieves or mages," said the mage.
"Alright, alright," Faron said quickly, scanning the battle field. Luckily there were several battles between them and the stairs to the palace. Enough would probably remain alive and willing; that would satisfy the mage, who would be sorely needed. The guard and the armors, Faron directed, were only to remove select pieces of armor or adjust them so as to make as little sound as possible.

The group's efforts were starting to make a sizable dent in the enemy forces. The enemy was apparently very good at divide-and-concquer, but they were also less skilled than they seemed, hiding behind numbers and intimidation. If this goodly turn went on, there might be a chance to save Remora! However, only Faron's developed optimism was saying that. The rest of Faron's mind said it was useless and they were all going to die.... He fought those thoughts with everything he had, reassuring himself that the enemy was obscenely over-confident.
A sneak attack would be the perfect counter to the enemy's flaw. For that, the mage got the other mage he'd wanted--a fire master--but no thief. There was a swordmaster, though; that was something, at least, and he was giving the four young guards tips to boost their confidence. The group reached the top of the stairway to the palace's main gate and were greeted by another carpeting of corpses. The guard who knew of the passages led them to the right of the palace gates--the passage was close.

Suddenly, there was a noise inside the palace. It grew louder, a sound like several people running. Faron, against his better judgment, was drawn over to have a look. The others were frantically gesturing him to duck into the passage. Faron was almost at an angle to see into the open gates... when a single woman dashed out of them at lightning speed. On her heels, Faron saw with mortification, were at least twenty enemy soldiers!

[Kalon Ordona II]

Gaia Username: Kalon_Ordona_II

Valder Karuthain



Age: 21
Hair: Red
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6' 1"
Build: Tall and toned
Class: Spearman
Weapons: Spear primary; long Knife secondary.
Character: Valder can come across rough and blunt on first impression. He doesn't like to beat around the bush--there are more important things on his mind than pleasantries. His mind is always working. The years of hard labor under the barons' tyranny have made him overcompensate his pride; he is determined that both he and those he cares for will always be above the conditions of their past. He won't let anything distract them from their mission, and doesn't take kindly to people suggesting alternate courses of action--the exception is his sister Shiana, of course. He is the leader through force of will and conviction rather than charm or people-skills. His aloof personality is tempered by a positive, if somewhat dry, outlook.
Update:
[During the role-play, Valder was made King of Va'or]

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. : Excerpt : .

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Valder listened carefully to everyone's opinions. Alandren had only nodded to Valder, as if he agreed with Shiana. All of them made sense, and all of them basically agreed. The man was awake now, his eyes wide, not daring to move with a blade at his throat. He looked to be in his late thirties.

"Alright," Valder said. With the enemy awake, he didn't explain what he'd decided. Squatting down, he addressed the squad leader. "I'll make this simple: I'm going to ask you a few questions. If you don't answer one quickly enough, you die. Here's the first one: Do you understand what I just said?"
The man didn't speak, only nodding 'yes.'
"Are you the leader of this squad?"
Another nod.
"Why was your squad in Telmar?"
The man spoke, trying not to move his throat too much as he did. "We were stationed there to watch for your return."
"And how did you know we had?"
"I can see you all glowing, like colored fire. Master Saphod did it to us."
"'Master Saphod' is the Sage who serves Baron Navargus?"
"Yes." He was still tense.

"Since you're answering my questions, I gather you are not loyal enough to the Baron to die for him. Why do you serve him in the first place? Why did you keep coming at us and not flee?"

The man hesitated, as if unsure which question to answer first. Then he spoke up hastily, before anyone decided he'd hesitated too long. "Th-the Baron pays us well!" he blurted out in a hurry. "We've lived well the past five years with no assignment but to wait for something that might never happen. We come head-on because that's our way. But there's Master Saphod, too; he'll put a curse on us if we don't do our jobs."

"Did you know we had a Sage before you found us?"

The man's eyes shifted. He wasn't going to lie, but he had no idea how to prove himself, and no way to make himself sound innocent. "No, but after the... after the men drowned and the water stopped, we knew she couldn't do anything else. I was going to bring her to Master Saphod if I could get away with her, or else kill her like all the other Sages."

"I'm going to tell you something. We have returned to Va'or to destroy the Barons Navargus and Ragabek... both of them... and their Sages. I don't know what crimes you've committed against the people of Va'or, but you have served a man who, with his brother, are using them for their own gain, feeding them lies, even killing. I'm going to give you a chance to start making amends. The good spirits might forgive you, but you have to prove that you'll change, and no longer do evil. You and your squad have attempted to murder each of us, so we may naturally find it hard to forgive you for that; but I'm willing to let you live, if you'll be of service to us until the Barons no longer rule Va'or. After that you must live the rest of your life helping others instead of hurting them. Your life is no longer your own. You can live with that, or you can die right now."

The man looked conflicted, but he obviously didn't want to die. "I will do as you say," he managed.

Valder sighed, but tried not to let it show. He put a hand on the man's good shoulder. "What is your name?"
"Bryar Noldred."
"And I am Valder Karuthain."
The man had calmed somewhat. "... I already knew that," he said, eyes narrowing.
"Oh. Well, Bryar, I want you to know that if I ever find out you've lied or if you ever go back on your word, I will kill you myself."
Bryar took a deep breath. "Fair enough."

"Alright; we'll worry about the rest of the introductions later. Here is your first assignment: you are to go back into Telmar and collect my armor and the rest of our few things from the Seafarer's Inn. Alandren here," he gestured, "and his wolf--you remember him--will go with you. Both to help you find and carry everything and to keep an eye on you. Naturally we can't really trust you yet. And you'll have to leave right now; Alandren can patch you up along the way."

Bryar looked at Alandren. Then he looked at Ciqala. "Of course... master?"
"You can just call me Valder, like everyone else."
"... Very well, Lord Karuthain."
"Fine... I guess I could get used to that."
More than one person chuckled. Bryar looked like he wanted to, but didn't.

"The rest of us are going to leave now and head east. We should come to a town further up Rivier Viriel, and we'll camp in the woods away from it. Neither of you will have any problem finding us." Valder stood. "Alright, you'd better get going."

After plenty of straining and a little help from Alandren, the three were off, with Ciqala at Alandren's heel.

Bryar could certainly be quite useful. Nobody asked questions of members of the Barons' squads. Beyond that, Bryar could tell who Valder and his friends were just by looking at them--except for Mai, of course. Valder was mostly just glad he hadn't had to kill him. He breathed deeply. "Well, we'd better get going, too.”

[Kalon Ordona II]

Screen Name: Kalon_Ordona_II
Nation Chosen: The Ramayan Kingdom
Name: Kalon Ordona II
Age: 50
Race: 3/4 Human, 1/4 Elf
Class: Master Mage
Job: Right Hand to the King of Ramayan

Weapon:
Magic, obviously, is his main weapon.
Other than that, he carries a long dagger with a leaf-shaped blade, an heirloom of House Ordona.
Normal Abilities:
Kalon's voice is the kind people naturally pay attention to and trust, a window into his good heart.
As a noble, a master Mage, and the King's right hand, Kalon naturally carries himself well: upright, smooth and graceful.
Kalon has excellent night vision.

Special Abilities:
Kalon Ordona II is a master of the Elements. He is weakest--if it can be called weak--in Water and Wind; he is very strong with Earth; he is an exceptional master of Light; but his forte, by far, is Fire.

General Outlook On Life:
Others should come first in life. One should do his utmost to nurture and defend those he cares for. Therein lies true happiness.
Life is meaningless without purpose. One ought always to be productive.
Kalon is introverted, high-minded and intellectual. He sees all the possibilities for a person, situation or setting.

Strengths And Weaknesses:
Kalon has a quick mind, strong in study, strategy, farsightedness, and insight.
Kalon has a warm heart. He enjoys being around youth and nature as much as he likes using his mind in service of the realm.
Kalon is a man of conviction, an idealist. Honor and responsibility are high on his list of virtues.

Kalon has a hard time saying "no" to anyone.
Kalon has an extraordinary ability to keep his cool in almost any situation. However, under extreme stress, his quick mind takes him through possibility after possibility of catastrophe, and it can be hard for him to think of any solution.
Since Kalon is almost always right, and successful at most things he puts his mind to, if he does make a mistake or fail, he can feel discouraged or depressed for a time.
Kalon has his magic and night vision to assuage his fear of the dark. However, even so, he can get a little tense during new moons.
Also, he can't swim.

Appearance:


History:
Kalon Ordona II is extremely proud of his heritage. His father, Lord Kalon Ordona I, is the son of Faron Ordona and his wife Rita (who was Rita Swan, before marrying). Kalon wears a large brooch that is the Ordona family crest, and he also carries the dagger passed down all the way from the great Lord Calanon Ordona.
Kalon's elf blood comes from his mother's side. His mother, Lady Tahlan Mokoru, is a half-elf. Lady Tahlan's father was a human, a noble--with ties to House Ordona--Lord Morgon Mokoru. He married a beautiful elf named Auria Moonfire. Auria is alive and well, of course, and the headband Kalon wears was a gift from her.

As a mage, Kalon Ordona II is considered a master of Elemental magic--and of the Element of Fire especially. Once, at Obea, during a controlled duel, Kalon ascribed a whole new level of awe to the words 'meteor' and 'fireball.'

Part of the reason for Kalon's position at the King's side is that Kalon is a childhood friend of his. House Ordona is one of the highest ranking noble families, and Kalon and Gaukaran used to spend a lot of time together as boys. Gaukaran was still a prince when Kalon left for Obea, the great school of sorcery. By the time Kalon had graduated as a master mage, returned home, and taken up his place as a noble in the royal court, Gaukaran was King and had just had his first child. As Kalon Ordona II showed his worth at court, and as he and the King renewed their friendship, Kalon was steadily drawn further and further into the King's confidence. Within a year, Kalon had earned a seat on the council.
Kalon visited the King and his family often. The young prince was growing fast, and Kalon became like an uncle to the boy.
Kalon has been there to help raise each of the King's three children. He knows them all well and loves them dearly, almost as if he was their uncle in truth.
As the years passed, the King came to rely more and more on Kalon, as a friend, as a confidant, and as an honest adviser. Eventually Kalon was appointed the King's Right Hand.

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. : Excerpt : .

---

Somewhere in the skies north of Rajastahn~

"Lord Ordona! My lord, I think you should come have a look at this!" The voice had come from the front of the shuttle. It was the pilot.

Kalon swiveled his seat around and rose up in the same motion. In the pilot's room, he looked out and spied three ships in the distance, adjacent to one another. Judging by the speed with which they approached, the airships were apparently hovering or moving very slowly. Kalon took only moments to realize what he was looking at.

"Milord... isn't that...?"

Several select curses sprang into Kalon's mind, but he restrained himself from fouling the air with them. Instead he uttered a string of sharp commands. "The prince Agni is on that airship! Put us next to the larger pirate's vessel and then power down the ship. Bring your weapons, we're going to engage."

Kalon stormed out of the room, barely even flinching when the pilot accelerated--the sooner to reach the battle--and then, moments later, applied the reverse engines. Biren and Valder, who had heard everything, were already alert and ready for a fight. Kalon purveyed information and instructions. "General Leyon and his guards are aboard the prince's ship; they'll keep Agni safe for the moment. The best thing we can do is take out the rest of the crew here before we move on to defend the prince."

The two young men acknowledged, and as soon as the shuttle pulled alongside the much larger pirate ship the three of them connected the bridge to the enemy docking bay. The shuttle powered down almost immediately, and the pilot rushed to the back, returning in under a minute armored and bearing an energy pike. Kalon had already opened the door and stepped out into open air.

Though the ships were all but stationary, hovering in midair, winds still rushed across the bridge and flared Kalon's cloak until it flew almost horizontally. Kalon put an arm up to shield one side of his face and crossed the bridge. The others were right behind him. Once the pilot arrived, the pilot attempted to open the door, just in case. Kalon had waited for that, and was prepared. Though he was not as strong in Wind as other elements, he was still highly accomplished. Drawing energy from the rushing currents of air, he built pressure in front of his palm, focused his will, and released a gust that knocked the metal door off its track and into the docking bay, where it crashed against the far wall.

Chaos erupted as the ships alarms horns blared. "Split up! Biren; Valder; take the low decks! I'll take the upper deck's and the pilot's cabin! Whoever finishes first come find the others!" To their own pilot he said, "You're with me; hang back as we go and guard the corridors from stragglers who might try to get on our ship. I'll handle the rest."

Kalon paced through the ship's rooms and hallways, his palm glowing with tongues of flame.
Kalon had them by surprise, and there was not a mage among all the brigands onboard.
It was a slaughter. There was no need to get inventive with spells or expend more energy than was necessary.

To Kalon, wielding fire was as natural as a movement or a gesture. A glowing radiance hovered inside the claw of his right hand, where it grew and morphed into a whirling tongue of flame, to be called upon in a sudden burst of energy and cast forth, screaming into the bodies of the enemy. Fireballs flew from Lord Ordona's hand one by one, with barely the time for a dozen panicked heartbeats in between.

The master mage seemed to glide along, hurling flaming death every few steps. Every once in a while he heard sounds of lightning and whooshes of air behind him, as fleeing pirates were engaged and eventually cut down by the shuttle pilot.

In minutes, the upper decks and pilot's cabin were clear and Kalon found himself walking back the way he had come, searching other rooms and corridors quickly until he was certain none of the pirates remained alive. As he walked back along his trail of charred bodies, he encountered the pilot, his armor damaged and his body bleeding from several injuries. He hadn't even stopped to bandage them yet. Kalon was no healer, so he cauterized a few of the more serious wounds and helped the man bandage the rest. When they were finished, Kalon clapped him on the back, admiring the pilot's resolve. The two sped back down to meed up with Biren and Valder.

The two were running and almost bumped into Kalon, who was in the lead. Their weapons were dripping but they seemed otherwise unaffected. Kalon spoke up immediately. "We cleared out more than twenty, but they were no fierce fighters. How many were belowdecks?"

Biren answered. "Mostly unarmored men, though they carried weapons. There were probably a dozen; most didn't put up much of a fight."

Valder added, "They were probably lesser warriors left behind to guard the ship, just in case. There were also a few wounded among them. We took them out as well, but we spared the rest of the crew."

"Alright, well done. Let's waste no more time; on to the prince!"

[Kalon Ordona II]

Name: Chälan Urdhuna
Age: unknown--they don't keep track. more than 200
Gender: male
Race: Nymph
Class: Black Mage
Physical Description: Chälan is roughly six feet tall, slender, graceful and poised, with blue eyes and a bluish tint to his clammy skin, and his white hair falls to just past his shoulder blades. He wears elaborate silks in shades of blue: undergarments, trousers, tunic, coat and sash; he walks barefoot.
Strengths: water magic, e.s.p., precision, intelligence
Weaknesses: fire, ice, physical attacks, sympathetic pain, ignorance
Weapon: water magic, platinum dagger
Persona: venerates nature, open mind; moods can change easily, sometimes cold to people at first.
Phobias: fire, ice, close spaces
Bio: As one of the oldest of his family, Chälan Urdhuna has been chosen to go and help turn the tide of darkness that threatens their clan's forest, some miles from New Hope. Chälan has been outside of their woods more than most of his family, but that is still not very often. He is ignorant of many customs and traditions of other races, and speaks with a thick accent. Still, he is a very quick learner, wise in years and sharp of mind.

Chälan has heard the decree from King Silverwind concerning the Dark Druid inside the Forest next to New Hope, and considers this a prime first step for his mission. He is on the lookout for a party to join in New Hope to answer the king's call.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Night was falling in New Hope. The rain had started again, the heavy downpour had been on and off for days. All along the cobbled streets, people had taken to shelter, trying to wait out another quick storm.

One figure, though, stood all alone in the street, his face to the sky. He breathed in the rain with the air. He let the water soak his clothes and skin. He stood thus, unmoving and with an unfading, wistful smile, from the time the rain started to the time it finally poured out its last drops.

As people began coming out from under tents, awnings and roofs, Chälan took a deep breath and lowered his head. He took a moment to focus his thoughts and call upon his power, then uttered a spell in his language. "Naeí dan Allaerra hath lli dëáthras ennalë dhin lli sethaen." Immediately the water in his clothing went into his body, leaving the silken garments completely dry. Other magicians might not have let themselves get wet in the first place, but Chälan was a nymph--all that water was better than a day of rest.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Names: Dalzughorond and Meruzhengra
Ages: Dalin is 49; Merin is 45
Genders: Dalin is male; Merin is female
Races: both are Dwarves
Classes: both are Warriors
Physical Descriptions: Dalin and Merin are between 4' and 4'5" tall. Both have dark hair and dark eyes.
Dalin wears chainmail beneath spiked ebon plate armor, with the rest of his clothing made up of layers of linen, leather and furs; a travel cloak is worn over all. Dalin wears his beard neat and trimmed.
Merin wears a fur-lined battle dress marked with the emblem of their clan. She has sturdy leather boots and special gloves with an improved grip. Merin has a pair of wide metal clasps for her long hair, both to hold it together and to keep it weighed down so that it doesn't fly about.
Strengths: Both have impressive physical strength, and can wield their over-large weapons with unsettling ease. Merin, especially, is deceptively fast, because of her lack of armor. They make friends--and enemies--easily.
Weaknesses: Their lack of height often puts them at a disadvantage. They sometimes don't realize when they're being pushy.
Weapons: Dalin has a huge axe with a razor-sharp edge. Merin has two weapons: a short sword in a sheath on her back--which she hardly gets a chance to use, and her main weapon, a double-bladed greatsword--'greatsword' for a dwarf, at least.
Personas: Both are always looking for a challenge. They do things largely for the fun of it. The two usually all over each other, like birds in springtime.
Phobias: Dalin is creeped out by Dark-elves, is put off by insects and snakes, and has a phobia about rivers. Merin is uncomfortable in open places like plains or deserts, and is frightened of lightning.
Bio: Dalin and Merin are an unusual couple. Most dwarves do not seek romance until a two or three years before they turn fifty, and do not marry until their fiftieth year. Dalin and Merin are not married, but they betrothed themselves to each other and have been so ever since. Even as children they were inseparable.
Since the dwarven custom is to go out into the world adventuring between twenty-five and fifty years old, Dalin and Merin are simply living the dream together until it's time to settle down.
They are bounty-hunters, mercenaries, 'good Samaritans', thrill-seekers and adventurers, all in one big lovey-dovey package.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

"Ah... somewhere in the middle, eh?" said Dalin. He looked toward his lady Merin, shrugged, then turned back. "Don't see why not. Ehmm... will all of ye want to split the reward even, then?--oof!"

Merin elbowed Dalin again, earning a muttered 'alright, alright' from him. "Merin Dalin Chälan Tania Sauda," she said, rapidly pointing to each of them in turn, effectively skipping introductions. "What Dalin means to say, is that the two of us have been spying on the witch for a few days now. We have information. Nice, valuable information--"

"and we'll naturally end up being the muscle in a fight--"

"--yes, and we think, well..."

"...She means we should get more o' the reward," finished Dalin with a smile.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Name: Kalus Koune
Nickname and/or Title: "Griff," or, "The Golden Gryphon"
Username: Kalon_Ordona_II
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Weapon: Arc of Light

Appearance:
Personality: Now that he has the Arc of Light, he is extremely courageous. The Arc of Light gives him the urge to seek out and destroy evil, and boosts his mental capacity to solve the problems he faces. What little personality he had is overshadowed by what he has become, a magnification of his former self, coupled with the responsibilities thrust upon him by the Arc of Light.

Likes: Goodness and Light, and people who talk a lot or can know instinctively what he wants without him having to say anything.
Dislikes: He dislikes people who don't talk much. Total contradiction, as he hardly says a word himself except to ask simple questions and give simple answers. Because of the Arc of Light, he hates evil with an all-consuming passion.
Reason for Fighting: The Arc of Light is the only thing that survived from one of the worlds that was destroyed. But it only became the Arc of Light after that world met its end.

Before that, it was an ancient relic of unimaginable power, said to be a crystaline form of the magic left over from the three goddesses who created that world. Over the ages, on that world, it had been the center of unceasing wars and conflicts.

Radiating power, courage and wisdom, and having the magic to grant wishes, the relic spawned a series of Dark Lords who rose to power, only to be defeated by a Hero who arose, because of the imbalance of the relic's power, in order to restore the balance and throw down each evil king. This happened time and time again, and the periods of reconstruction and peace were always punctuated by cataclysmic destruction from the evil forces, until the Hero for that time defeated them and ushered in the next few generations of safety.

When the world was destroyed, the relic survived and was catapulted through space. Over time it coalesced and morphed into the Arc of Light, and gradually gained the ability to steer its own course. The magic within the relic drew it toward Earth, which was now the center of a new War. The Arc of Light sought out one who could wield its power to combat the forces of evil.

Kalus Koune, an orphan who lived in an isolated town in an isolated country, was a very quiet young man. He hardly spoke a word. But everyone in his town was friendly to him and always encouraged him to excel at whatever he put his mind to. When he was young, he always helped out his friends and neighbors with anything they asked. As he grew, he was a friend and a mentor to the younger children, who saw him as very smart and very brave.

Kalus eventually took up falconry as a hobby, when he wasn't doing the odd job for his neighbors. When he wasn't with his birds, he would take long walks in the woods and just think about things.

It was on one of these walks that, suddenly, a bright light illuminated the sky. Kalus looked up, and saw nothing but the bright light shining through the trees, banishing the shadows in the forest further and further with each moment.

Kalus might have run, but he was frozen to the spot, struck still with fear or awe or, at some level, the firm touch of destiny. He could only watch as the Arc of Light bolted down from the sky, decelerating to a gentle hover as it floated into the forest, coming to rest in the air right in front of Kalus Koune.

It was a large... arc... of light... that pulsed and hummed and changed sizes even as its impersonal magnetism pulled Kalus' mental imagery into exploring all the possibilities of its use, all the while imprinting its drive and its purpose into the framework of the young man's being.

Kalus was oblivious to his friends and neighbors who, seeing the light, had gathered here and were looking on in wonder, saying things like, "Kalus found one of those; it must be!" and, "I knew he'd be for bigger and better things, that I did." and, "Is he going to go away?"

Kalus reached out and took hold of the Arc of Light. The Arc glowed even brighter. Kalus didn't squint at all, but opened his eyes wide and let the Arc's Light flow in.

And then, all at once, it was over. The light subsided. Kalus sank to his knees, and the huge relic in his hands was a smooth, crystaline arc of clear gold. It was light and strong, and still morphed its shape and size in time with Kalus' inexperienced mental concentration, unused to controlling the Arc.

His friends gathered around, quietly asking questions or offering advice. Kalus didn't hear any of it, and only stood up again. Everyone fell silent as he met their faces. They seemed to understand, one by one as he looked at them each in turn, that he was leaving and probably wouldn't return. They nodded one by one, and he nodded back. When everyone had said their farewells, he smiled at them all, and motioned for them to stand back.

Kalus Koune leaped into the air, and immediately the Arc grew under him, propelling him up and away as fast as an arrow, leaving a streak of golden light in its wake.

Other: Kalus Koune isn't much for teamwork. Although organizations have been formed to put a stop to the greedy warlords who have sprung up all over Earth, Kalus can't bring himself to join them. He can't bring himself to lead any of them either, despite the fact that a few have made the offer. He doesn't know if it is because he is an orphan, or an influence from the Arc of Light, or some combination. It's just the way it is, and he's come to live with it. He can only use people for information.

Also, he helps every single person in sight. Everywhere he goes, he just has to stare at someone until they ask him for help. He might ask if they're in trouble if he's in a hurry. He can only stop himself from doing this if another, greater evil presents itself.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Kalus caught hold of the Arc of Light in its pendant form around his neck, and held it up in front of his face. There was a faint iridescence to its concentrated gold shape. Kalus could feel the power inside it, and he wondered, not for the first time, what sort of world it had come from. He tried exerting his will to explore its secrets. He'd tried this before, but nothing had happened. But, just now, he'd had the thought that perhaps these energy crystals and Artifacts could somehow allow his mind access to places in the Arc that were hidden before. He was not ready for what happened. A flash of golden light erupted in his mind's eye. Kalus fainted, dropping straight to the floor, as his mind experienced visions of the past; images which before must have been locked deep inside the Arc of Light.

The Golden Power. That had been its name on the world it had come from. A golden light in a golden land. So many images passed through Kalus' head that he could not keep up with them all, and so only noticed a few. A dark silhouette against a wall of fire: a horse and a rider. An imp wearing a stone mask. A child's skeleton playing a flute. A wolf chained in a prison cell. A man with blue skin and fins. A hollow tree trunk, the opening as tall as two men, lying on its side deep in a forest. A red ship with a dragon's head for a prow. An upside-down blue and white bowl of pottery with a minuscule hole in the center of its upturned base. A long coil of rope with an iron-wrought bird's-claw at the end. A great silver bell atop a white tower. A lone, sad statue on an island in the midst of the sea. A flock of... chickens? A floating group of very large leaves. A castle drawbridge on a stormy night. And then Kalus saw himself. That image shocked him into wakefulness. He opened his eyes with a start. He had been flat on the floor, but now he was on his hands and knees, panting and in a sweat. That last image... it couldn't have been himself. Kalus tried to recall what he'd seen. No, it wasn't Kalus, it just looked a lot like him. This other person had long, pointed ears. That at least was different.

Kalus got up and made himself start walking again. Walking helped him think. Maybe having a look at those communicators would help calm his mind a bit. Kalus had forgotten he had been going there any way, as according to Felix's suggestion. The shop was just around the next corner, though, so Kalus walked slowly and tried at least to slow his breathing. Everything he'd seen was getting hazy. He remembered seeing it all, and he remembered some of what he saw, but nothing was clearly defined. Except for the chickens. He remembered the chickens just because they stood out; being a creature also found on Earth, the chickens seemed so common, so ordinary, next to all those strange and fantastic visions. Kalus also remembered the dark horse and rider, but he shuddered at the memory and turned his mind elsewhere.

The shop was just as it had been, and he same man was there, as he always was. Kalus moved his eyes along the shelves, browsing the wares as he always did, admiring the energy crystals, wondering at the other strange-looking devices, and making mental plans of what to buy next. It struck Kalus then that Rednal had mentioned the Sanctuary traveled with Rednal and was something like an Artifact itself. So that explained the self-mending ability and the unearthly weapon upgrades. Kalus spotted the communicators and asked the man about them. Very handy: once a link was established with a person, you could communicate orally and visually over long distances. The man mentioned a holographic projection to explain the ability for visual communication. Information and communication was arguably the most fundamental and necessary ingredient for victory in any conflict or situation. Wars were won and lost by it. Kalus bought one immediately.

After the communicator had been purchased and attached properly, the shopkeep directed Kalus' attention to an upgrade for the communicator, a device which facilitated Telepathy. Kalus was excited to hear that. Finally, the ability to speak without having to use one's voice! Kalus checked to make sure he had enough; he did, barely, so he bought it. The second it was attached...! ~++Kalus Koune!!++~ The call reverberated through Kalus' head, making him start. The shopkeep asked if anything was wrong. Kalus shook his head, not at all convincingly, and hurried away. He found an empty room, rushed inside and closed the door. "Hello?" he said aloud. Nothing happened. ~"Hello?"~ he repeated, this time in his head.

~++Much time has been wasted.++~ The voice, or voices, echoed in Kalus' head louder than his own thoughts. Kalus only flinched this time, but he was becoming very afraid. ~"Who are you?"~ ~++Do not fear. We are the last of the spirits of Light, all that remain of our world. The Great Ones perished with the rest, but we have grown strong from the Golden Power. We were eventually able to fashion it into the Arc of Light, and the Arc led us here.++~ ~"What did you mean when you said much time has been wasted?"~ ~++Several of your Earth's years have gone by, since the Arc found you, and yet only now have you begun your true quest. Only now have you begun to talk with us.++~ Kalus realized the Telepathic attachment for the communicator must have done something to the Arc of Light, so that he could communicate in his mind with these... Light spirits. ~"My true quest?"~ ~++Darkness swallowed our world. Darkness, we have discovered, has swallowed many. Darkness will swallow many more, if nothing is done. Whenever our land was in danger, the Golden Power chose a Hero to defeat the darkness. Kalus Koune, this time, as the Arc of Light, the Golden Power chose you. Earth is a planet of destiny; there are many heroes here. You are ours, our representative to fight the Darkness about to consume this world, and with it one of the last hopes for the rest of the universe. You are our champion, the one the Arc of Light has chosen. You are the Hero of Light.++~ Kalus felt stunned and honored, much the same as he had felt when the Arc of Light first came to him. ~"What darkness?"~ ~++That is all we know of the danger. Darkness. We could discern no more of its nature.++~ ~"Then what is my first step, now that I have the ability to take it?"~ ~++We do not know. We know only that you must find the other heroes, those who hold power like ours, and alongside them defeat the Darkness. And you must become strong, as you are beginning to do, so that you will have the strength to do what must be done. Our power is yours, as it has been since the Arc chose you. You will find the way.++~ Kalus thought what else he should ask before he got back. ~"How can I talk with you again, if I need your advice?"~ ~++We will call you, as we did a few moments ago, if we have some way to help. But you may also call us and talk whenever you wish. We cannot read your mind; we can only hear those thoughts which you direct toward us.++~ Whether that was because it was the way telepathy worked or because it was a feature of the communicator, Kalus could only guess. Either way, though, it worked. ~"Alright. Goodbye for now, then."~ ~++Not goodbye: Farewell.++~ ~"Farewell."~ ~++Farewell Kalus Koune, Hero of Light.++~

Kalus sat down on a chair somewhere in the room--he was obviously too dazed to worry about where in the room the chair was. The entire conversation replayed itself in his head. Questions arose left and right. He wanted to ask about the world the Arc of Light, the Golden Power, had come from. He wanted to ask how the Arc had chosen him. He wanted to ask so many things. ...but not right now. It would be too much. He could wait until another time.

Kalus sat elbows to knees, his head in his hands. He breathed deeply for several minutes, digesting everything he had learned. At last he knew the real reason the Arc of Light had come to him. But where he had been free with his power before, now the responsibility of his quest bore down on him. Before, all he wanted to do was help people, now he had to be able to do what must be done. And yet, all this time he had wondered what the purpose of his power was, and now he had the answer. When Kalus thought of that, he felt better.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Name: Morgon Vergal Seregond Navargus Urdûna
Age: 48
Race: Human
Appearance:

Abilities/Magic: Swordplay, battle tactics, and "negotiation"
Rebellion: Against
Position: His Majesty the King of Rothe
Personality: Calm even in rage, hard, stern, arrogant, commanding
Weapons: Mageslayer: an enchanted greatsword of Earth, Vine, Wood, and Stone, which is never sheathed
Bio: Morgon was once the dispossessed youth of a fallen noble family who won back his name by building a fearsome reputation on the battlefield. Beginning as a warrior and quickly climbing ranks, Morgon always fought even if he was in command--and slew with the ferocity of six men. He almost single-handedly took over four adjacent, allied baronies and combined them into Rothe, now the largest human kingdom by half. No one questioned his rule, so strong was his iron hand and fearsome renown. He married soon after, later than most men, choosing as queen the most beautiful woman which could be found in all of Rothe. Before long a son and two daughters were born, only a few years apart. He grew to respect and love his wife and children, but carefully lest he grow soft.

When the rebellion started, Morgon King of Rothe was one of the first to know. The blame for the loss of his family's prestige so long ago rested entirely on the heads of elves and were. Thus Morgon hated them doubly, and thanks to the size of his kingdom became the rebellion's greatest and most immediate threat.
Other: He has an elf bodyguard/slave who he uses mainly for enchantments, especially for objects, like his sword Mageslayer.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Morgon's head came up slowly as Sarai entered. She was quick enough to exalt the abilities of women a moment ago, and now here she was all of a sudden implying she had not, in fact, been taking secret lessons behind his back. But it really didn't matter either way; she still needed to learn this lesson.

He spoke with his normal calm, matter-of-fact tone. "The point isn't to train you, Sarai; and certainly not with a sword, of all things. The point is to teach you first hand the horrors of war. If you want to learn a weapon so much, you'll have to be satisfied with whatever knowledge you can pick up on the field. And you'll be perfectly safe, as long as you do as I say and use some sense. Honestly I'm surprised your fear the duchy of Tora at all... unless of course you've been skipping political classes too." Then his expression hardened. She could accuse him of whatever she liked. She'd understand, one day. "You'll not easily change my mind, Saraiyu." He had to do this. She could make so much trouble for herself and the future of the kingdom if she kept going as she had for the past years. The last few minutes had convinced him. Sometimes a father had to let his children make their own mistakes, if they refused to listen. "Come back to me when you have had your fill of blood and screams and death. Not before." No quibbling, no explanations, no excuses.

Morgon, King of Rothe, sat up and leaned back in his chair, but kept his fists resting on the desk before him. The conversation was over. Morgon found himself wondering if her audacity would push her further into folly, to dare say one more word. He'd been more than generous in explaining things to her at all. If she presumed to defy him further--Princess or not, daughter or not--she may just find herself staring into the wrong end of a halberd.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Name: Saphod
Age: 89
Race: Elf
Appearance:

Abilities/Magic: Enchantments, especially in the Earth elements.
Rebellion: For
Position: King Morgon's slave / enchanter / 5th bodyguard, in that order.
Personality: Reserved, repressed, conflicted
Weapons: none
Bio: Saphod had been Morgon's father's slave, and his escape among others' was part of the downfall of Morgon's family. When Morgon eventually tracked down each of those slaves one by one, Saphod was the only one who did not kill himself rather than go back into service.
Other: Saphod has seen some good in the world of Humans. Even in Morgon himself. He is for the rebellion, but he wishes there was a better way.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Saphod always thought it a sign of weakness that Malkin kept saying demeaning things to him. As if he had to prove he was superior. It was very odd.

All the same, the King's Adviser gave him chills. The poor servants who attended him were very quiet; they kept apart as best they could. Most people passed it off; nobody paid attention to the servants unless they did something they weren't supposed to. Saphod didn't like to imagine what went on in here. The problem was, there was not one shred of proof that anything was amiss. It was all feeling and conjecture.

Saphod often wondered why he was so unnerved around Malkin in the first place. After all, Saphod was his elder in years, if in nothing else. Perhaps it was because Malkin sometimes advised the King to get rid of Saphod. Saphod wouldn't have minded so much, except that 'get rid of' meant 'kill.' Saphod knew why he was around. Elven magic was very different from human magic. Morgon His Majesty knew the value in that. And, Saphod supposed, it was the fact that Saphod had been around since Morgon's father's time that made it a little more difficult for Morgon to toss Saphod away. Saphod was harmless, after all, considering the enchanted golden collar clamped around the base of his neck. Maybe that was what gave Saphod chills when he was around Malkin Tresry: the feeling of helplessness in the face of open hostility.

Saphod bowed deeply from the waist, expert in knowing the proper depth of bow for each person, relative to status, and executing the gesture accurately within a finger's breadth every time.

Saphod straightened to speak the message. "His Majesty the King wishes his Adviser to be aware that the Princess Saraiyu is to be leaving the palace tomorrow morning for the border disputes against the Duchy of Tora. He bids me to say: The restless spirit must learn fear before it can comprehend wisdom." As if there was anything to fear from the Torans. Maybe, for a young woman, there would be.

Message delivered, Saphod waited impatiently to see if Malkin had anything to say. If it were up to him, he would have turned about right then and walked out. ...It was not up to him.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Name: Mokoru
Age: 25
Race: Werewolf
Appearance:

Abilities/Magic: Sword & Knife, Tooth & Claw, Strength & Grace
Rebellion: Member
Position: Assassin
Personality: Single-minded, focused, strong but with a tender heart
Weapons: Longsword, long knife
Bio: Mokoru's mission, the main reason he's in the rebellion, is to rescue a certain werefox, his childhood love, from slavery. He doesn't know where she is, but he knows she's alive. His profession as an assassin gives him the opportunities he craves to search for her.
Other: Mokoru sometimes has to be reminded that the rebellion comes first.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Mokoru was sitting beside the small shape of Ian's cat-form, holding vigil since Logan wasn't back from helping the centaur. Since Ian hadn't stirred yet, Mokoru's thoughts had returned to Ian's hard-won discovery. Mokoru held the string of dark beads, full of his love's scent. How long it had been since he'd had a taste of her existence!

Ian and Mokoru hadn't known one another before the rebellion, but, as fellow Werefolk, they shared an additional mutual interest in one another's well-being. At one time, werecats had been somewhat looked down upon by the stronger wolf tribes, but that was during almost forgotten time before humans came. Ian and Mokoru grew to be good friends in the ranks of the rebellion.

But still, for Ian to risk his life to help Mokoru in his quest... that was something that the werewolf could not and would not forget. According to the old werewolf ways, family was only partially defined by blood. One's true family were those who were bonded to one's life, whether by blood, through love, or out of hardship. The more specific the blood, the love, or the hardship shared, the stronger the bond. Often in peacetime, when two wolves wished to prove or strengthen a bond, rituals were held to combine blood or overcome a series of trials--often both at once. Those days might be long gone, but those ideals still pulsed through Mokoru's spirit.

Ian had shed his blood--almost lost his life--to bring Mokoru a little closer to rescuing his love. Whatever bond they might have shared through Were origins or efforts in the rebellion, it was little in comparison to the bond Ian had proved today. To Mokoru, the werecat might as well have become his own kin.

"From now on, Ian, whatever happens, I'll always look out for you." Mokoru felt a little foolish talking like that, even if he did mean it. It was probably just as well that Ian was still unconscious. Mokoru looked back at the beads, after a moment, and then added, almost in a whisper: "I swear I'll repay you somehow."

[Kalon Ordona II]

Kalus Koune



Age: 30
Hair: Dark Blond
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6'3"
Build: Muscular/Athletic
Class: Gryphon Knight
Weapons: Lance and Longsword.
Character: Quiet but Courageous, with a taste for adventure.
Bio: Kalus is the son of Calanon Koune, one of the greatest champions of the order of the Gryphon Knights. Growing up in his father's shadow, Kalus' personality is subdued and quiet, but he is no less courageous. His words carry more weight for being fewer in number, and some say that Kalus has the potential to one day surpass his father's skill. Calanon died when his son was twenty, and since then Kalus has worn his father's golden armor well and with pride.
Other: Aron is the name of Kalus Koune's male gryphon.

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Kalus was left standing along with Aron, seething. He could hardly believe what had come out of the Prince's mouth. 'They are our allies now'?? At the word of a... of a... ( just what was Magus, anyway? A sorcerer? A warlock? Undead...? ) At the word of some dark mage, Prince Frederic had made friends with goblins!! 'Don't fret'? 'Pride and honor'?!

Kalus' face was emotionless, if a little strained. Kalus' insides, however, felt like the tight, winding, tense, twisted ropes of a catapult ready to be loosed. His loyalty to the Prince knotted against his every instinct to annihilate the enemy. Kalus managed to calm himself just before he began to seriously consider wild thoughts like: Protecting the Prince comes first, or, Is it right to keep one's loyalty to a madman, or, Crush the enemy while their backs are turned.

Aron, seeming to sense his master's struggle, came up closer beside him and rubbed lightly against his armor, nudging Kalus slightly with his head to get his attention. Kalus looked up in time to watch the gryphon rear up, flapping his wings and clawing the air, then dropping back down with an impact, assuming an erect pose, striking and noble. After a moment, Aron looked over at Kalus and made a little sound, cocking his head to one side, to see if he understood.

Kalus nodded slightly, slowly, several times, gaining resolve. "You're right, Aron. We'll just have to protect them."

[Kalon Ordona II]

Basic Information
Character Name: Gedric Tanager
Age: 52
Race: Human
Birthplace: Ank, Burren Empire, Fera
Personality: Surly, Obsessive
Bio: Gedric was the eldest son of Edward Tanager, renowned among the Magi of Ank. During Gedric's early years, it was clear that he was his father's son. Gedric had the raw talent for magic and the intelligence to put it to use.
All was going well, until Edward Tanager contracted a magical ailment during an experiment. He died while Kaeli Tanager was still pregnant with Cimon. Kaeli herself died in childbirth. Gedric was 25 at the time; his brother Sephtus was 14, engaged to wed Mithra Sparrow; Joseph was 8; little Scythia was only 3; and poor Cimon just born. It was all too much for Gedric. He ran away, which left Sephtus as the Tanager heir but also forced him and Mithra to marry much sooner in order to better take care of Scythia and Cimon.
Gedric became driven to overcome where his father had failed. To do that, he needed to become more powerful. And to do that, he needed to live long enough to acquire that power. Herbalism and Conjuring, in addition to the magic Gedric already knew, prolonged Gedric's lifespan bit by bit.
Over the years, Gedric has exceeded the common human number of years, thanks to this obsession. Many would say he has achieved that goal, but Gedric himself, of course, would disagree. Already an accomplished Archsage, Gedric is not satisfied. There is so much more to see and to do and to become. He wanders the lands, hunting for power, endlessly looking for new magic.
Over the years, Gedric has had only minimal contact with his siblings. Sephtus is already dead. Gedric knows somewhat of all their lives. Joseph also ran away at some point, going off with a Gloria Potter to live in the country, up by Ertri. Scythia married into power, having chosen Derek Maul. Cimon made a wise choice in Erica Helstrom as a bride who would help Cimon, as heir, win back the status of the Tanager name. As Gedric grows older, he finds himself wishing he could have spent more time with them.... But then his mission calls his thoughts away.

Physical Information
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 180lb
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Super-dark blond (basically black). Now white with age.
Unique Markings: Gedric wears a golden brooch, set with a large ruby, as a clasp for his cloak. Rubies have special meaning to the Tanager family.

Family
Father: Edward Tanager [deceased]
Mother: Kaeli (Peregrine) Tanager [deceased]
Sibling #1: Sephtus Tanager [deceased] was married to Mithra (Sparrow) Tanager
Sibling #2: Joseph Tanager, Age 35, Married to Gloria (Potter) Tanager
Sibling #3: Scythia (Tanager) Maul, Age 30, Married to Derek Maul
Sibling #4: Cimon Tanager, Age 27, Married to Erica (Helstrom) Tanager

Skills, Job, and Equipment
Occupation: Archsage
Abilities/skills: Intelligence, Fast Learning, Keen Observation, Making Tea, Cooking
Magic: Complex Elementalism; Chants of Conjuring; Herbalism
Weapons: Cutlass, but it is used more often as a practical tool than as a weapon.
Armor: Chainmail, with a Spaulder on one side.
Equipment: Packs, pouches and pockets contain magical tomes, writing supplies, equipment for herbalism, and herbs themselves. At his belt, opposite the cutlass, is a practical knife.

Extra
Themesong: Burning Ambition

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Dawn flooded the mountain pass, penetrating the mists with its golden light. The sun painted one side of the rocks and boulders in sharp contrast to the receding night. Tall, thin evergreens cast long shadows toward the human-occupied side of the mountains.

Gedric Tanager had been riding for much of the night, and walking for most of the early morning, leading the horse up through the mountains. Now the Archsage stood at the crest of the pass, looking down at the forested valleys. Beyond lay the vast wastelands of the Fell conquest, and further still, barely discernible as a thin, blue line on the horizon, lay the sea.

Leaving the horse to graze on the ferns and long grasses hard by the cliff walls, Gedric went to the other side of the path to climb a boulder with a relatively flat top. The climb, which would have been difficult for an average human, was little trouble for a mage of Gedric's caliber. With wind spells to clear the path and spirits to keep his footsteps sure, the Archsage ascended the rough terrain as if it were a wide staircase.

Sitting himself down atop the boulder, Gedric was able to see over the tops of the trees in the valley. "They're down there somewhere," he muttered to himself. That captain Olaf had certainly selected a fine steed to carry him to the mountains. Gedric hadn't needed to feed the animal as many herbs as he'd feared. Herbs for strength and stamina, added to a conjuration of spirits of the wild, had temporarily turned that horse into a perpetual running machine. Best of all: since it hadn't been so very far to the mountains, the horse had actually survived the ordeal. Gedric had a few doubts about the beast's mental health, but it was certainly alive and in good order physically.

Gedric himself, on the other hand, hadn't slept in four days now. All the same, he'd climbed the boulder not for sleep, but as a place to eat and metidate while the horse grazed. A brief respite before moving on.

After ingesting a number of magically cooked strips of meat and a selection of herbs, Archsage Tanager set about drawing lines and symbols around where he sat. Any bird that flew near, any small animal that wandered close, its life would be drained into a crystal that hung around the mage's neck. This was one of the minor secrets to his longevity.

Lines drawn, Gedric put his palms on his knees as he sat cross-legged. He rested, his muscles loose, his eyes closed, and enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun.

[Kalon Ordona II]

. : Name : .
Full Name: Áirhath Aeryän, Leader of the Ssandári Mercenaries
Use Name: Áirhath
Other: Commander Áirhath, or sometimes simply Commander
Played by: Kalon_Ordona_II

. : Appearance : .
Height and Build: 5'7" ; lithe and athletic
Description: Áirhath has dark brown hair and green-gray eyes. The set of his eyes is wide and deep; his forehead sweeps back, continuing the straight line of his nose. His dark hair is usually tied back in three places, one on top of another along the back of his head; the hairstyle complements the way his pointed ears lay close to the sides of his head. As old as he is, and leading the lifestyle he has, Áirhath is physically stronger than most elves, though his musculature is as lean and graceful as any elf's.
Clothing: Whether dressed in linen or silk, Áirhath always wears over all an elaborate cloth that covers his left side, shoulder and arm. This squared cloth, with two corners fastened front and back at the belt, two sides fastened front and back at chest height, and the rest draped over one arm and typically coming lower than the knee, is known as the dhiláthra--or, kin's-cloth. The dhiláthra is an almost universal elvish garment that displays the family colors. Áirhath's dhiláthra, of the Aeryän family, is slate blue with a thick silver border and flowery yellow patterns. Áirhath's usual garments, aside from the dhiláthra, consist of a sleeveless black linen tunic and breeches--the lower parts near his feet being decorated with yellow patterns to match his dhiláthra. Around his waist is a wide, blue silk sash beneath a dark leather belt. His feet are wrapped in comfortable strips of uncolored cloth, and are shod with sandals of typical elvish fashion. The hand beneath the dhiláthra is gloved, to protect against the poisoned blade of his knife should he need to use it. The other hand is wrapped in comfortable strips of uncolored cloth, up to the elbow, with the fingers and thumb left bare. His bare right arm and shoulder display a blood-red tattoo in the shape and likeness of a winged fire-drake.
Weapons: Áirhath wields the dilssan. A common elvish weapon, the dilssan consists of a one-hand grip with no crossguard and a single-edged blade; the quarter-inch-thick bar of steel is half an inch from spine to blade and is typically two and a half feet in length. The dilssan is extremely light, meant for elf versus elf combat--against other races, larger, more substantial weapons are the norm. Áirhath's dilssan is kept in a slender sheath strapped behind his right shoulder. Another common elvish weapon--the throwing star--Áirhath carries in abundance inside special, thin pouches distributed across his midsection, lower back, and thighs. Finally, in a sheath strapped behind his left shoulder, Áirhath carries a knife with a poisonous, pinkish, crystal blade.
Other: There is a small form-leather pouch attached to Áirhath's belt, useful for storing small herbs, vials, and other odds and ends that might be difficult to obtain on short notice.
Impression: Áirhath's appearance is fierce, focused and commanding.

. : Heritage : .
Age: 182
Birthplace: Ardin, Hern--a village situated at the source of the Saerun.
Family: Of the twenty-six elf Families in Telmar, Áirhath belongs to Aeryän. Áirhath is the only child of Alandel and Aiya, since Aiya, like so many elf mothers of less than normal vitality, died from childbirth, at the age of 246, having led a full life. Alandel lived until his 302nd year, raising Áirhath before he too--as the elves of Telmar believe--passed into the void. All elves of Aeryän, all those who wear the Aeryän dhiláthra--no matter where they live in Telmar--would be considered Áirhath's immediate family.
Inheritance: Áirhath's mother, Aiya, was a weaver. The dhiláthra he wears had been made for him by her, in anticipation of her own death. Áirhath's dilssan belonged to Alandel, his father, who was a famous swordmaster in his own right.
Other: Áirhath has several connections in high places, especially among the White Council, but he has few role models. His true friends are the fellow swordmasters that make up his mercenary group. Áirhath has not yet married.

. : Persona : .
Biography: Áirhath remembers his mother's face, the moment when Aiya named him. As most elves remember such first moments, Áirhath can still see her, his mother, Aiya, when he turns his mind toward the past. Her hair, almost completely black with age, framing an expression of such love and joy, to have brought a child into the world even at the cost of her own life, knowing her legacy would live on. She and Alandel had been married for many, many years; they were deeply in love and wanted children as much as any elf, but Aiya was too fragile, even for her kind, and it was rightly guessed that giving birth would be her final act in life. And so, late in Aiya's years, when she felt she had lived to the fullest and while she was still fertile, she and Alandel coupled often for the purpose of conception, and soon Aiya did conceive. Through her term she prepared as much as she could in anticipation of her probable death, wanting to give as much as possible to the child she could but bring into being. An Aeryän dhiláthra of unsurpassable quality, journals and writings she had written and saved to pass on, all this and more. Then, when her child was born, and she held Áirhath at last in her arms, she died at peace, full of joy, with Alandel at her side.
== Áirhath's childhood was happy. Though he only had one parent, there was no shortage of uncles, aunts and cousins at gatherings. Life was not difficult in the village of Hern. The springs of Saerun Anara provided pure water, and its streams carried fish aplenty. The surrounding forest was full of herbs and fruits, and gardens and animals were kept by all. Áirhath and his father lived together close to the mountains, where Alandel taught his son all about the world, how to read and write, how to tally, even how to speak human. As Áirhath grew, he learned more and more about his mother, and read everything she had written for him, and cherished everything she had left for his keeping. At gatherings Áirhath learned to leap and climb and fight, and when he was older Alandel taught him the way of the blade, and Áirhath learned of his father's history, and the deeds that he had done, and he marveled and wished to do such deeds and greater. And his father taught him to think deeply on every matter, and to be strength to those in need, and to remember always the greatness and the glory of the elves above all other forms of life. And then, over the course of time, Alandel's days came to an end, just before the beginning of Áirhath's fiftieth year.
== Áirhath became a wanderer in search of great deeds, and great deeds indeed were waiting to be done. Áirhath quickly learned the true nature of the world, and for the whole of his life has done all in his power to make the world a better place, walking the path of the blade. Áirhath established the Ssandári Mercenaries when he was ninety years old, since a number of like-minded swordmasters had steadily joined him over the years.
== The Ssandári Mercenaries have earned recognition throughout elvenlands, and have even been to parts of the human land Sephalia several times. So Áirhath Aeryän grew wise and strong, great in knowledge and rich in friends. Now, he is about to face an adventure greater than any he has ever experienced.
Motivation: Áirhath carries in his heart his mother's love and his father's teachings. He has also come to care for each of his fellow swordmasters as if they were the brothers and sisters he never had. Áirhath has never tired of adventure and the doing of great deeds, and he never will.
Skills and Talents: Hereditary talent, excellent instruction, and constant practice has made Áirhath an exceptional master of the blade. In addition, Áirhath's mind is naturally attuned to nature; knowledge of nature is both an elven racial trait and a heavy childhood course of study, for Áirhath as much as any elf. Áirhath can also speak fairly good Human as well as his native tongue.
Strengths: chivalry, tenacity, focus
Weaknesses: racist, show off, ignorant in regard to romance
Personality: kind-hearted, calculating, adventurous

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Eldin > near Sildena, only a few miles from the border into Sephalia ~ evening of DAY 3

Áirhath looked up toward Dhashan deth Anatar, Anatar's Pass. Anatar Aeryän, the elf lord of Ardin, long ago convinced the White Council to help the Sephalians construct a serviceable pass through the Mountains of Mist, creating another trade route that brought a steady stream of human merchants and traders into Eldin. Without Anatar, elven lands would not have had the benefit of so much more human trade. Áirhath had always been proud of his history, of the Aeryän Family.

"Áirhath Llíredan, lli aeleth heyara srénn sen nna Sildena. Sildári chyun dhanathári nnáe sundra." Commander Áirhath nodded without looking back toward the elf who was speaking. Titanya was right, of course. They should all take rest back at Sildena for the night, since the humans over in Sephalia disliked travelers coming through the pass during the night. "Naeí lle dánë sen. Lli ilith ethalë." Áirhath gave them leave to go without him. He'd soon follow.
"Háei, Llíredan." Titanya and most of the others did as Áirhath had suggested. Five stayed behind, keeping at a fair distance, to watch over their Commander.

Áirhath needed to be alone for a few moments. He needed a chance to digest everything that was happening. If the actions of the White Council were any indication, this was a very important time in history. Something big was going on, and the elves needed people like him, capable and resourceful, to find out what it was. The White Council had recruited the Ssandári mercenaries to make a short circuit through parts of Sephalia and Sakira-thani, gathering what information they could whilst playing their normal mercenary role as a cover. The plan was to return within two weeks, hopefully having answered the question: How much did other races know about the change that had occurred.

If necessary, the Ssandári would need to actually perform mercenary tasks for employers. It could be done, and it would be advantageous in several respects, but it could easily put a strain on their deadline. This was nothing like a normal mission for an employer; the welfare of elven lands might be at stake. Áirhath breathed deep of the cool, twilight air. He was more than a little anxious to have all this on his shoulders and those of his company, but he was also quite ready to rise to the challenge.

[Kalon Ordona II]

. : Name : .
Full Name: Sehra-sithred S'harahe
Use Name: S'harahe to friends and family; Sehra-sithred S'harahe to members of the same caste; Sithred K'handrar to lower castes.
Other: Sithred K'handrar
Played by: Kalon_Ordona_II

. : Appearance : .
Height and Build: 7' ; slender
Description: S'harahe's skin is fair and cream-colored; she has spent much of her life indoors. Her eyes are white, and so are her horns, except for a single black ring in the center of each. With her slender female curves, coordinated physical coloring, and noble demeanor, S'harahe is considered a beauty among beauties.
Clothing: S'harahe normally wears imported silk. Her usual garments consist only of a single piece of cloth--and extensive length of black silk that wraps around her several times. One end of the cloth hangs in front of her left shoulder; the other end falls between her legs, almost to the floor. Her legs, her tail, her shoulders and arms and wings, her throat and part of her chest are all exposed. On special occasions, she will additionally wear behind her back a sheer, expansive, white, veil-like cloth attached to two onyx rings around the claw of each wing. Only the rings keep the cloth draped across her back, for ease of movement--and the light cloth is large enough even to accommodate flight while the wings are outstretched. In addition, S'harahe wears onyx rings on each of her fingers and toes, to match the natural black rings on her horns.
Weapons: S'harahe enjoys the luxury of a pampered princess--she has no training in physical combat. She has her voice, and therefore her magic, and that is all the weapon she will ever need.
Other: S'harahe almost never carries anything on her own--there are servants for that. However, if necessary, it is possible to conceal small, thin objects between the multiple wrappings of cloth that hides her nakedness, or even conceal them--rarely and only due to grave import--between the cloth and her smooth, delicate, perfect skin.
Impression: Dragons are already gracefully built and sensual by nature. S'harahe epitomizes these qualities; she is a captor and a delight to the eye--and, in many cases, the groin--of the beholder, regardless of gender or race.

. : Heritage : .
Age: 56
Birthplace: Sakira-thani, Gandila--a large city situated in the center of Tanith-Ged Hi-Gadan (in human language: the 7,000 Stones Mts., except that "7,000" to dragons is "8,400" to humans).
Family: S'harahe is the eldest child of Higeth-makh Tenadar, age 90 and Sehra-higeth Mihsaha, age 86, both of the second-highest caste of dragon society. S'harahe herself has two siblings: Dregan-makh Thenaber, age 50, and Sehra-higeth Kirshena, age 48, who outranks her older brother Thenaber despite her younger age. The rest of S'harahe's family is virtually insignificant, since they belong to lower castes, and some are not even K'handrar, but mere K'harar--the next category down. S'harahe, belonging to the highest caste, outranks every other member of her family.
Inheritance: S'harahe's only real inheritance is the genes that allowed her to become what she is, and the teachings that inspire her to fulfill her potential.
Other: As a Sithred K'handrar, S'harahe has no need of connections or friends. S'harahe has endless admirers, but no lovers. It is commonly believed that S'harahe is destined to become the next ruler of Sakira-thani. Her highest role model, and her greatest rival, is none other than Sithred-makh Grendilkren himself.

. : Persona : .
Biography: S'harahe's vocal talent was recognized early on. Her entire childhood consisted of vocal exercises, training in magic, and instruction in politics. S'harahe was born a Sehra-dregan K'handrar; she was Higeth at age 20; by 40, she achieved Sithred status, the highest caste in dragon society. But being a Sehra-sithred was not enough for S'harahe, who throughout her life had been pushed to pursue high ambitions. Her personality complemented this discipline, since her wont was to set a new goal for herself as soon as she had accomplished the last. S'harahe put everything she was into everything she did. And so, once Sithred, S'harahe aimed higher yet. Abandoning her family, who by now were beneath her status and obsolete in their capacity for advice, moved from her home city of Gandila, straight to the capital of dragon lands: in Sakira-thani, in Sakira's Mountains, that great city named after the Dragon Queen of old: Sakira. There, S'harahe quickly rose in popularity and power. However, S'harahe is still not powerful enough to rival Sithred-makh Grendilkren, the ruler of Sakira-thani, whose powers were beyond legendary. Grendilkren has already ruled for one hundred and three years--utterly unheard of concerning any dragon, in any time. Most other rulers lasted between one and five years at most. Sakira herself, so long ago, reigned for only twenty-four years. Still, S'harahe continues to grow in skill, and, already considering future aspirations, has turned her face toward heaven, determined to conquer mortality itself.
Motivation: All dragons, it would seem, nowadays, love themselves more than they could ever love another. S'harahe is utterly absorbed in her own beauty, her own power, her own majesty. In her mind, she is already a goddess; in her mind, it is only a matter of time before the rest of the world comes to worship her divinity. She has no need to praise herself. S'harahe's all-consuming goal is to prove to the world the high destiny she already knows is hers.
Skills and Talents: S'harahe is a prodigious magician; her power is all but unrivaled throughout Telmar. S'harahe speaks very poor human, but is almost fluent in elvish. As for her native tongue, S'harahe is more than a master at wielding every dragon word in existence. Other than these, S'harahe's skills and talents are few. She is an extraordinary singer, and her knowledge of other kingdoms and political leaders even outside her own lands is extensive, but there is little else S'harahe has time for or cares about.
Strengths: benevolence, diligence, political savvy, detailed and reliable memory
Weaknesses: intense narcissism, jealousy of the divine, aspirations of divinity
Personality: disciplined, confident, benevolent in her superiority

---

. : Excerpt : .

---

Sakira-thani > Sakira > Palace of Sehra-sithred S'harahe ~ morning of DAY 2

S'harahe woke with the sun. Her gentle eyelids slid open as fresh sunbeams caressed them, and the she-dragon arched her back gracefully, enjoying the feel of the silk cushions and soft gold leaves sliding under her. She held this stretched pose for a few moments, taking several deep breaths of the cold morning air that came in from the windows. (Dragon windows were never paned or shuttered, even in winter.) The springtime mountain breeze washed over her lightly clothed form, making her feel full of life. Refreshed, S'harahe sat up and began to fold her splayed wings. She then stood, smoothly stepping out of the pile of cushions and onto the polished stone floor.

Four female servants and two eunuchs were ready and waiting when S'harahe allowed the sheer silk cloth to fall from around her body. Hands with dull-filed claws caught the cloth--little more than a see-through silk blanket--before it touched the floor. S'harahe's scent was heavy on the cloth; huge amounts of revenue were drawn from the selling of these to competitive bidders. The eunuchs carried it away, while the female servants stayed.

Exposed and radiant, S'harahe turned toward the sunlit window and gifted the sun with the pleasure of viewing her glory, and in return the sun caused her fair, whitish skin to shine like the morning star. Reverently, after several moments, the four other she-dragons clothed her from behind. Tenderly, delicately, they wrapped her in a long, black silk cloth of the type she favored, careful never to touch her. When they finished, S'harahe turned and, by way of reward, gently touched each of their faces, like a goddess bestowing love upon her children.

"Cen gsen theled," the Sehra-sithred almost sang, high in her lower voice, bidding them be blessed. She used the singular form of address, even though there were four she was speaking to. S'harahe was unusual in many ways, and one of them was that she employed servants of a much lower caste--and much younger age--than was customary. As a result, S'harahe's servants did, in fact, view her as if she were a goddess. The four female servants, already aroused and then to be so lavished with favor, might very nearly have died from the thrilled pounding of their ecstatic hearts.

S'harahe motioned for them to return to their other duties, and the servants, reluctant to leave but overjoyed to obey, filed smoothly out of the towering room. Moments later, S'harahe followed. There were many preparations still to be seen to before all would be ready for her departure.

[Kalon Ordona II]

. : Name : .
Full Name: Gado Tanager
Use Name: Gado
Other: "Old Finch" -- he gets this nickname from his nose and his love of birds.
Played by: Kalon_Ordona_II

. : Appearance : .
Height and Build: 6' ; muscular, thinning with age, fit
Description: Despite his advanced age, Gado's hair is still yellow blond with nary a strand of gray, though his hairline has receded quite a bit. His hair is coarse, spiky, and cropped short. Gado's eye color is black, his eyebrows are slanted dramatically, and above his nose is a pair of creases that speak of deep or troubled thought. His characteristic nose is large, thin and hooked. Gado keeps his face clean-shaven except for a clump of hair at the front of his chin.
Clothing: Gado normally wears linens and leathers, good boots for walking among nature, and sometimes a cloak for long trips or damp weather.
Weapons: Almost all humans, from the lowliest peasant boys to the mightiest dukes, carry a knife. Gado is no different; his 8"-bladed knife is finely crafted and much-used, and he is never seen without it. Apart from this multi-purpose tool/weapon, however, Gado does not normally carry instruments of war (any more), though he does own several--most notably an old and trusty sword and shield. The battered round shield--made of iron-bound wood--is still as sturdy and reliable as ever. The double-edged broadsword, while simple and unadorned, is wrought of fine steel. Though it has seen many years of disuse, Gado has always kept it maintained, sharp and polished.
Other: Gado doesn't go anywhere without his wooden musical pipe and his pouch of birdseed.
Impression: Gado can at first look like a person to be avoided, but that cheerful smile of his often makes people wonder how they could have thought such things about him in the first place.

. : Heritage : .
Age: 124
Birthplace: Sephalia, Oliphey--a city on the southeast shore of Barocula Lake.
Family: Hugo and Sheena Tanager were Gado's parents. Gado has three brothers and one sister, three daughters and two sons, fourteen grandchildren, several cousins, nephews and nieces, and even six great-grandchildren.
Inheritance: Not much to speak of. Gado's parents were simple folk, and besides Gado was the second youngest of his siblings.
Other: Gado has many, many connections in Oliphey, few role models, several acquaintances but few true friends, and only one lover: his wife, Scarlet.

. : Persona : .
Biography: In many ways, Gado's life has been very ordinary. In others, most strange. Gado was born in Oliphey, a large city situated by the south-east shores of Barocula Lake. He was born to a large family of lower income--not poor, but not well-to-do. Many of the family were fishermen, and young Gado spent much of his childhood out on the waters of Barocula. After losing two of his uncles to a mysterious creature while fishing on the lake, Gado, being left on his own to row all the way back home in terror, could never again bring himself close to large bodies of water. Gado kept to the city from then on. He eventually became a warden, and he excelled at this occupation for many, many years. He was married during this time, and he had five children. During the day he cared for his family; during the night he watched over the city.
== One day, when he was eighty-two, he quite unexplainably got out of his occupation as a warden and took up residence about fifty miles away toward the east and a little north, past the town of Shadewood, to a small town called Cedar Brook, close to the mountains. His children grown, he had only his wife Scarlet for company. He had grown tired of city life. He couldn't put it into words, but what he really missed was the water, the outdoors, where he spent his childhood. Out in the country near Cedar Brook, he felt back in his element, and he was even further from the water he had by now forgotten that he feared. He grew to love forests, gardens, and above all birds. There were few birds in the city; out here they were everywhere, singing to him. Gado was content to live out the rest of his days in peace and quiet. His children and grandchildren visited him once in a while, though less and less as Gado grew older.
== Gado's wife Scarlet greatly enjoyed the change, especially walking in the woods with her husband--which he was free to do whenever they wished now that they were out of the city and Gado was off the warden. Gado kept busy helping his new friends and neighbors of Cedar Brook, earning the name "Old Finch" for his beak-like nose, his love of birds, and his cheerful character. Scarlet loved to tease him about it, since Gado was much too large a man to be called after such a small bird, but Gado enjoyed the name, seeing it as more representative of his spirit than his looks. So the years drew on.
== It was only after the fight with the cave-drake that he started having the dreams.
== Twenty years after Gado came to Cedar Brook, silver was discovered in the mountains close by. It was soon also discovered that a very old, very large cave-drake lurked among those caves. Gado, being willing and able, went with a party of men to slay the creature which had already killed nine people. Gado never got to help actually strike down the cave-drake, because he had accidentally gotten himself caught in its paralyzing, hypnotic gaze. However, Gado's unfortunate circumstance was also a lapse in the cave-drake's offensive, which turned out to be the deciding factor that led to the creature's defeat.
== Ever since that day, many of Gado's nights have been spent in vivid dreams. Most of the dreams are significant in some way. Or at least, that is the impression retained whenever Gado wakes from one: a feeling of grave import. Most of the time he is unable to remember or make sense of the dreams. Other times, he remembers but cannot find the answer to the riddles. Whenever he manages to solve a dream and follow its direction, the effects in the lives of others are profound.
== Now, more than twenty years later, Gado Tanager is seen with mixed feelings. Some see the same Old Finch that they always did. Some see a kind of magician, one to be respected or even feared. His wife Scarled stands by him, as always, and she has been instrumental in solving several dreams, more and more as time goes on. Little can Gado Tanager know the height of destiny to which his dreams will soon carry him.
Motivation: Gado was brought up be the best he could be, on whatever course he chose in life. Gado cares deeply for the wellbeing of others. He is not completely selfless, but he will always do his utmost to make his little corner of the world a better place.
Skills and Talents: Gado only knows human language and he doesn't have much education, but he surprisingly strong for his old age, has incredible stamina, and his years as a warden have left him with plenty of miscellaneous, straightforward combat skills. He knows his way through the dark side of city life. In addition, his experiences with birds and dreams make him quite knowledgeable in both those areas, as well.
Strengths: Gado possesses a mental acuity and fortitude that only comes with age. He is empathetic, kind, and--thanks to his dreams--an excellent riddler.
Weaknesses: Gado's long years of life has afforded him the time to hammer out most of his character flaws: few are to now to be found. However, Gado does still have an irrational fear of large bodies of water, and his dreams are often a burden on his mind.
Personality: Cheerful and sharp, yet a little haunted and eccentric.

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. : Excerpt : .

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Sephalia > Cedar Brook > home of Gado Tanager ~ morning of DAY 2

"I'm coming with you."

Scarlet's insistent voice filled the large bedroom. Outside it was light, but the sun did not shine, and would not until it crested the mountains behind them later in the day. Gado sat on the edge of the bed. Scarlet stood over him. The covers remained in disarray.

"It's not a walk in the woods, Ess. There could be danger."
"I don't care; I'm not letting you leave, off on your biggest adventure, without me."

Gado looked unconvinced, unwilling on one hand that his wife should be displeased, and unwilling on the other that she come into harm's way. He had no clear idea where his path would take him; he only knew he had to follow it or he'd go mad. He knew in his marrow that last night's dream was nothing less than the call of destiny, the revelation of the path toward the culmination of his life. It felt as if all he'd ever done faded in comparison to his new purpose. The goal was all-consuming.

Scarlet sat next to him on the bed. "You could be gone for a long time; do you really want to see me waste away here without you? Besides," she poked him playfully in the ribs, "old age hasn't quite caught up with me yet." Gado looked over and lifted a hand to her cheek. Her face had less wrinkles than his own, and her eyes had never lost their virility. He would love nothing more than to take her with him, but there were just too many questions. Scarlet put one hand on her husband's chest, gravely serious. "I won't let you die without me. If there is danger, I'll face it by your side same as always, and don't you try to tell me different." She melted into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

Gado circled her shoulders with one hand and held her forearm across his chest with the other. He sighed in happy defeat. "Goodness knows I'll need that quick mind of yours, now more than ever." The old man held his beautiful wife close in his big arms and kissed the top of her head. "I love you." Scarlet brought her head up and kissed him proper. So it was settled.

Scarlet spent the next few hours writing letters and--just in case--their will. Gado saw to getting the house in order and having a look at some of his old weapons--just in case. They would be leaving that very day, and Gado knew exactly where he would be going first: back to Oliphey, where there was a large church of Zephiris. Something about the dream told him he would need Heavenly Mother's guidance.

[Kalon Ordona II]

Name: Dame Elenda of Mandor
Age: 34
Race: female human

Appearance:


Character: noble, calculating but optimistic

Bio:
Elenda was the daughter of Sir Carlo of Än--the same Än which owes its existence to the great Lord Roger and the fabled Blade of Än--and Dame Olwyn of Edria. Sir Carlo could trace his lineage back across four generations of knights to Lord Roger of Än himself. Dame Olwyn was similarly renowned, for she was the daughter of Sir Seregond the Stonehearted, who was an elf-friend. Indeed Dame Olwyn grew up under the watchful eye of her father's good friend, an elf known as Calanon, Lord of Ordona. This Lord Calanon was to play an integral part in Olwyn's training, and later would do the same for Olwyn's daughter, Elenda.

Sir Carlo and Dame Olwyn both became knights of Mandor, the greatest and noblest kingdom of the known lands. Knights came from all over to be part of that great country. There they became fast friends and eventually were wed. The Kingdom of Mandor continued to grow in size and prosperity and might and glory. This was laregely because of the famed Errands of Mandor, the stories of which were becoming legends in the minds of the people. The King was constantly sending his knights on quests of valor. Heroes, it seemed, were being forged every day. Bards carried fantastic tales throughout all lands; there was no shortage of great deeds.

It was during this time that Elenda was brought up and raised to become a knight of the realm. There was an axe in her hand from the time she was strong enough to lift one. Elenda had a strong spirit and loved more than anything the riding of beasts and the wielding of weapons. That is, most anything, for she loved her parents most of all. In fact this might have become a source of bitterness, for Sir Carlo and Dame Olwyn were both gone regularly, out upon Errands for the King. Elenda got on with friends, squires and guardsmen well enough, but she could not rely on them. (Indeed, most of them relied on her, for she had a kind heart and a helpful hand, and would stand by any of them when no one else would.) In the midst of her secret turmoil Calanon the elf was always there in place of her mother or father. On him she relied for strength of soul and development of mind, for he taught her things few were given to learn.

So the years passed and Elenda grew, and was stronger than many a man of the castle. And she became fair and beautiful, so that it was said the beauty of her face matched the beauty of her soul. But no man yet had won her heart. In time she was knighted, and she also took part in the Errands of Mandor. This brought her a fuller joy, for oft she would go out together with her parents, Sir Carlo and Dame Olwyn, and she was called Dame Elenda of Mandor, and folk remembered her name as it was read from the lists in far-off places. Thus did more years pass, and these were the dearest and best so far of Elenda's life.

Eventually Sir Carlo and Dame Olwyn began to feel their age, for they were both over sixty when Elenda turned thirty. They began to take Errands of less difficulty and less frequently, whereas Elenda, being young and full of life, sought danger and opportunities to test her skill. Much renown she had earned, and many began to call her Dame Elenda the Strong, for her halberd was famed and feared. The King recognized her as one of his nine greatest knights, and often gave her command of units or Errands of great importance and need. All this was joy to her. But, with her parents fading from her life, Elenda's heart began to feel alone.

Weapons and Magic:
Elenda's Primary weapon is the halberd or pole-axe. She is a master at axes and especially pole weapons.
Her secondary weapon is the spear. Elenda has no weapon crafted specifically for her. She instead uses different types of her weapons of choice, the better to keep on edge and be ready able to use any weapon as need demands.
Lord Calanon gave Elenda a special gift after she was knighted. It was a necklace, a gold chain attached to the points of a small crescent. The crescent was also made of gold, and it was set with a smooth round jewel. Stragely enough, the jewel itself seemed to be made of gold--or, at least, it was gold in color--but it was transparent, and it caught the light somehow without facets. Calanon had instructed her that, to use it, she must press her lips against the crescent and breathe warmly upon the jewel until it glowed. She must then touch the jewel to a thing, and the glow would transfer its light and its power momentarily, where it must be use quick, lest the glow die out. Elenda had found many uses for the enchanted pendant. Her most famous was what she had named the Arc of Light. When she transfered the golden glow to a weapon and then swiped the edge through the air, a curving arc of bright golden light would fly straight through the air for a great distance before it spread out into nothing. She had seen it cut through stone. Unfortunately, though--and Calanon had warned her about this--the spell would work only one time each day, so she must use it only at great need. Calanon had also warned her to guard the pendant closely, for others might use this thing as well, and it was only a fool who would let power fall into unrighteous hands.

Uniqueness:
Elenda has never been with a man. Though many are attracted to her on multiple levels, none have had the courage to court her affections.

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. : Excerpt : .

---

Dame Elenda followed the queen's advice and went to her parents--though she would have done so regardless of the queen's words. Elenda made her way toward her parents' quarters, but finding them not there, she looked for them on the nearest balcony overlooking the courtyard. Elenda took advice from her parents whenever she could, for no matter how much of the world she saw, her parents always seemed to know more than her. There they were, gazing out over the railing and standing arm in arm.

Elenda quietly stepped onto the balcony. "Dah? Mom?"
"Elenda!" said Sir Carlo, turning round to the sound of his daughter's voice. He was tall and strong; his head was balding, and his brown hair and beard were already turning gray; but his eyes never lost their spark, and his smiling face bearing more than its share of scars was no less sensitive and kind. Carlo strode up to Elenda and gathered her into his arms. Their armor clinked together as they embraced. He kissed her forehead when they pulled out, and then he noticed the Chain of Command around Elenda's shoulders. "Well," he said jocularly, "somebody's moving up in the world." The big smile under his beard made lines appear at the corners of his eyes.

Before Elenda could answer, she was suddenly caught into so tight an embrace that she was lifted up off the ground. "Mom!" she laughed, struggling for breath.
Dame Olwyn was shorter than Elenda by a head, but she never missed a chance to snatch her daughter up when she wasn't paying attention. "There's my big girl," she said, setting her down. Perpetually tight-lipped and determined, deep dimples appeared in Olwyn's fair features whenever her lips parted in a chipper grin.

The three headed back to Carlo and Olwyn's quarters, talking of the new Errand and the people who had joined so far. Inside the quarters they sat on comfortable chairs that were also firm enough to support the added weight of their armor.
"This one seems different from most others," said Sir Carlo, "bigger, and potentially quite dangerous. If even half the rumors are true... know when to use caution."
"I will, Dah," said Elenda.
After a moment, Dame Olwyn turned the conversation to a new subject. "But enough talk about dragons and dangers." She leaned forward with elbows on knees and her chin resting on closed fingers. "Yesterday you had a faraway look about you. There's something troubling you, isn't there?"
Elenda was a little embarrassed. "Not... as such.... It's just, sometimes... I feel like something's missing. And then I miss you and Dah...."
Dame Olwyn nodded slightly several times to herself. "It's a man you're wanting."
"A man? But I haven't gotten to know any very well... and they always seem so busy. And... I don't know... it just seems like a man would be... not enough."
"You'll find many men that are more than they seem," said Dame Olwyn.
"And some that are less," Sir Carlo added.
"But I think what you really need... is a hero."
"A hero?"
"Yes. One who cares for others; one who is strength for the weak, who protects the helpless; a true knight of valor. One with a strong hand, a stronger mind, and a heart strongest of all. And don't settle for anything less. You know I didn't."
Sir Carlo was long past blushing at his wife's flattery, but he did smile. "Elenda, you will surely outshine all your mother and I have accomplished, and your heart is full of goodness. Few men will possess a destiny to match yours. Wait and watch for a man who live up to your strength, and who is worthy of your heart."
Elenda nodded to herself. "How will I know... when I find such a man?"
"He will find you," said Sir Carlo.
"But you must be ready," said Dame Olwyn.
Elenda lifted her head and softly smiled. "I will be."

The family of knights embraced each other once more. "I should go prepare for the Errand," said Dame Elenda. "Have you seen Lord Calanon about?"
"Oh," said Dame Olwyn. "That's right, he left, didn't he."
"What? He left?"
Sir Carlo nodded. "Last night. He seemed to know what was going on, though. He sends his regards. I think he had some sort of special mission."
"I see.... I had hoped to talk with him as well before I depart."
"It must have been very important," said Dame Olwyn. "I know he would have wanted to speak to you as well. But don't worry, I know one thing he would have said. 'Good-gryphons, girl! Off on another adventure, are we? Well, I say, may your blades be sharp and your wits sharper.'"
Elenda had to laugh; that was exactly like him. She hugged Dame Olwyn again. "Thanks, mom."
"Give those dragons a good hacking for me."
"I will." Elenda moved from one parent's arms to the next.
"Farewell, Dame Elenda the Strong," said Sir Carlo.
"Farewell, Dah."

And off she went, to see to the myriad affairs prerequisite to the departure.

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