Send One to Defend

One to Defend

...Before time...there was only a dark emptiness of space. In the middle of it all, a great shining being emerged out of blackness with the power to shape and alter all reality by mere thought. With his great power, he created many countless Realms. From the many of creation, there was one we know as the Black Realm.

He created the earth, wind, water, and fire. Slowly came the skies, clouds, sun, and moon. He constructed the Realms as one great sphere of land, sea, and air. Beyond the skies, clouds, and moon, lays a black wall all about the Realm. Lastly, he gave all Realms one Realm Gate to connect them all.

When all the Realms were complete, the one being converted his physical coil into a great sphere of pure energy. The sphere divided equally into all the Realms. Thus breathing life into the Realms.

In the Black Realms, it became alive and enraged with earthquakes, volcanoes erupting, tidal waves, and hurricanes. The land was ripped and torn apart. But soon, harmony reigned.

Then there was darkness. The prophets refer to this period in time as the Age of Darkness. They call it that for the sole reason, light shined down on no living being for there was none.

Aeons have passed. From the depths emerge the Elven people. Being the first race, they were endowed with the most of the One Being’s awesome power. This was their innate magic. Soon, the Drow, dark elves and Trow, black elves surface. Soon Man, Dwarves, and Orcs were born.

Age of Elements, the prophets call this period. For all the four races had struggled against starvation, disease, and the cold. Elven people, being the oldest and most like the One Being, learnt to use their innate magic to discover fire, heal disease, and teach the other races to hunt.

The Age of Order came as the four races of Elves, Man, Dwarves, and Orcs created towns and cities. They learnt to craft metallic mineral into steel and into swords and armour. They built ships, castles, and kingdoms. They invented law and rules to the villagers were bound to.

Then the darkest of the ages, the Red Age came forth. It was an age of blood, violence, and killing as the races battled against one another for territory and land.

Don of magic and wizardry was set in the hands of Man. With swords of their warlords and magic their warlocks, they became the strongest race. And so they had claimed the two largest of the islands and formed the four kingdoms, Lijtriel, Mikala, Aflacek, and Aurg.

The Trow, being the one Elven people with the least innate magic fought along side their brethren, the sun elves. But the Drow being a fusion of magic and warrior formed their own army. There was war between the elves. The Elves with their Trow brethren claimed the smallest island, Selimpa. And the Drow was forced into the ground, the Underdark.

Dwarves were driven to the island Joryea. And the Orcs were forced onto the island Hijtroth.

Thus the Race of Man reigned supreme but justly so. They were share and trade between the Dwarves of Joryea and Elves of Selimpa. The three races became strong allies. And the Black Realm enjoyed peace and prosperity…

…It was short lived as an Alliance was reached. An Alliance between the Orcs and the Drow was founded. The innate magic of the Drow was enough to match the power of the warlocks of Lijtriel. And with the pure raw strength Orcs, they had set their sights on the human race.

Lijtriel sent word to the Elves and Dwarves for assistance. But help was not given. The high Elves were in a civil war between the Trow. And the Dwarves have tunnelled deep into the mountains of Joryea.

So the four kingdoms of Lijtriel stood alone against the hellish fury of the dreaded Drow and the brutal Orcs.

For a hundred years of war, the brute strength of the Orcs and the deadly tactics of the Drow devoured the three kingdoms, Mikala, Aurg, and Aflacek till they laid in rubble.

That left Lijtriel to stand against...the fury of the dark Alliance. The four warlords of Lijtriel all united and constructed a great tall castle that touched the clouds. They built it in the very center of Lijtriel. They called it, the Spiral Castle. There, they made their last stand.

For years, the Spiral Castle remained under siege. No matter how mighty the Alliance of Orc and Drow were, they could not break through the defence of the Spiral Castle. But they knew, the supply of food, firewood, and water was running low for the race of man.

So the Drow army continued siege and had a plan of action. They had begun tunnelling underneath the Spiral Castle. They dug deeper and deeper in hopes the Spiral Castle would crumble under its weight and fall into the Drow’s deep dark pit.

The four warlords desperate, began planning one last gambit that would save them. Lord Tenrok, he was a great and powerful warlock. They constructed a spell of shaping shifting. They planned to take the shape of a drow warrior and take the head of the Orc King. And in doing so, break the Alliance.

But, he knew what this meant. He would give his life so all his race would live on. It was a sacrifice he was willing to take.

They prepared the spell and trained formed the warlock into a drow warrior. Then he transported himself out of the Spiral Castle. There he found the Orc King’s tent. Inside, he lopped off the Orc King’s head. But he was quickly discovered and killed.

Immediately after, the Orcs turned on the Drow. As the remaining warlords witnessed this, they were quick to rush into an all out battle. They opened the gates and the entire army of knights charged against the feuding Orc and Drow.

The cunning Drow, knowing when they were defeated, cut their losses and retreated deep into the Underdark. But no Orc was left to live as they were all killed without mercy.

Soon after the end of the Alliance and surviving near extinction, the race of man began rebuilding their society.

When they were strong enough, they set out to the Land of Sand to rebuild their lost kingdoms. But when they arrived, they discovered a new race roaming their lands, giants and goblins. Diseased, rotting creatures that were once men. Even worse, at night, the drow surfaced to terrorize the Land of Sand against those that survived the War of the Alliance.

It was said, the goblins and giants were once man, but the drow used their terrible magic to change them. For dead rotten corpses of man, they were given new live as a new creature. And be forever a plague, tainting the Black Realm with their poisonous presence.

A century later, the four kingdoms of man stood once again. Thus, we are now at the present known as the Fifth Age…

The villagers were in a deep sleep on a cold and drenched night. It was the night of the full moon. There was a subtle howl from the dark clouds. Wind whistled through the tall spruce trees and swept up the leaves, branches, and twigs along the ground.

Drops of water dripped from the trees and onto the wet ground. It was the only sound that rang in the air as dark figures crept in the shadows. Moved ever closer to their prey, the dark figures did. Finely polished steel of dual scimitars gleamed in the moonlight. Pairs of faint violet orbs peered through the heavy brush to gaze upon a small farming village south of Vincraw in the kingdom of Tenrok, the land of Lijtriel.

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows and under the moonlight. The moonlight revealed the dark figure to be a short slender warrior in armour, but his skin remained ebony with long white hair that hid his face in a shroud of darkness. He appeared to have long pointy ears that couldn’t be hidden underneath his long hair. He was gripping dual scimitars in both hands.

He continued to stand still as eleven other dark warriors loomed in the shadows behind him. All eleven were as sinister and fierce as the one before them, their leader. And all twelve were thirsting for a swift and silent slaughter for the village…

In the center of the village was an outlook tower with two guards on watch. They watched all corners of the village. They were vigil and alert. Their eyes were sharp.

One blinked as he saw a shadow move. Before he could utter a letter, a blade had slit his throat as a hand grabbed him at the collar and pulled over the edge. The other guard panicked as he turned and looked down. He saw his friend’s body being pulled into the shadows. He turned and reached for the horn to alert the village soldiers.

As he pulled the horn to his mouth, a hand covered his mouth. He felt a cold sharp pain in his back that ripped out of his stomach. Specs of flesh and drops of blood were scattered in the air and fell to the ground. The guard tried to scream out in pain, but it was only muzzled with a hand over his mouth.

The leader jumped down from the outlook tower and landed silently. His warriors gathered around him as they finished all guards on patrol. All already had blood stained on their scimitars. They all looked to their leader for their next order. He motioned to the barracks where all the village soldiers were asleep…

In the shadows, behind the spruce trees was a lone warrior watching it all. As the dark warriors in the village, he too was ebony, short, and slender with pointy ears, but his hair was a long black. Tied onto his back were two swords, one long, one short.

He took a deep breath to lighten his heavy heart. There was anger and disgust in his eyes as he watched those dark warriors spill innocent blood. The lone warrior’s nature, his code urged him to slay such dishonourable warriors. In his code, judgement had befallen the dark warriors and their lives were forfeit. And the lone warrior was given the privilege to carry out their sentence.

Then—he reached for his long sword…

When all the soldiers were killed in their sleep, the twelve deadly warriors turned their sights on the village asleep in their houses.

The leader entered a house closest to him. He calmly and silently moved through the house and into the rooms. He slightly opened the doors to have a glimpse inside. He saw two sleeping children. Then he moved to the next room. He always saved the children for last.

The door creaked badly and waked one of the children.

In the next room was a large bed and in the bed were the farmer and his wife. He walked into the room and to the bedside. Out came his fine scimitar from the sheath. He raised it high, and plunged it into heart of the farmer. He raised it again and plunged his scimitar into the woman’s body.

The floor creaked quietly. The dark warrior heard the floor and turned around fast. He saw a child gasping in fright.

“D-d-drow…” the child strummed breathlessly in fear.

He stared coldly at the boy that was frozen in fright. Behind the boy, a shadow dropped from the ceiling, stood up looming over the boy. The dark warrior’s comrade quickly covered the boy’s mouth as he thrust his scimitar into the back of the boy. The blade ripped out of the boy’s stomach.

The boy was released and fell to his knees, crying. The drow warriors watched the child bleed as he crawled on the floor. And the dark warriors simply—left the boy to bleed out and die.

In another house, a drow moved silently and swiftly through it. He went directly for the farmer lying alone in the only room. There, he had put great care in each slow step as he pulled forth his fine scimitar.

A black blur ran across the window. The drow’s keen eye saw it. He was suddenly on edge and wary for any enemy.

A black blur fell from the ceiling. Without hesitation and without turning, the drow thrust his scimitar behind him. His heart stopped for a moment with his eyes wide with shock and surprise. He took two deep breaths as he turned to take a hard look at who he had killed.

As he turned, a floorboard was carefully lifted and set aside as the lone warrior emerged from the cellar.

He took one glimpse and stumbled backwards in shock. It was a dead ally, hanging from the ceiling by the neck with his throat cut wide open. But there was no blood running down his neck, for his veins ran dry and empty.

Before he could do anything else, he was kicked down onto his knees. A hand grabbed him by the hair and forced him to bow his head. He heard the sound of steel cut through the still wind. He knew he was dead. A second passed and he was…

Minutes have passed, and the drow leader was impatiently standing in the center of the village. He was waiting for his warriors to return with the villagers all slain and carrying the precious spoils of war, plunder.

He became tired of waiting and would cut his men short of their pleasure of slaughter. He called them with a high pitched whistle that only drow ears can hear.

The very second the call ended, exactly eleven bodies fell from the outlook tower behind the drow leader. Instinctively, he had his scimitar out and turned fast around to see the eleven dead bodies, his eleven drow warriors.

Some dozen feet in the distance, a black figure landed silently on the ground. The drow’s powerful ears heard the landing. Then—he knew. He knew from how his warriors were killed. Their throats were cut wide open and some with severed heads. There was only one kind of warrior that was so skilled in the art of stealth to so easily slay a drow warrior.

“Only a trow…” the last drow cursed in the drow language. “Only a damned trow warrior!”

When the last drow turned to gaze upon his nemesis, the archenemy of the drow race, he was certain it was a trow. The black hair, the pointy ears, the ebony skin, and the two swords against his back known as the daisho.

But this one, the drow recognized. His eyes looked straight at the scar under the trow’s bottom lip. A scar that ran down his bottom lip, over his chin, and disappeared under his chin.

“Duishi Mishen,” the drow said in pure hatred.

“My nemesis,” the trow replied in the drow language. “Anzai Shudai. I had a feeling and now I am certain.”

Duishi looked at his nemesis’s right hand and saw and remembered him slicing off Anzai’s middle finger. Duishi removed it in a battle years ago and was scarred below his lip. It was a fight both warriors would never forget.

Angry Anzai pulled forth his two fine scimitars and gripped them so hard, his knuckles whitened. Calm Duishi reached for his long sword.

As they were about to begin, first light shined down on the young earth. Anzai cringed and he shielded his eyes from the terrible light. The rays of the sun blinded the drow warrior.

Duishi knew, there would be no fight today as he dropped his long sword back into its sheath. As much as he wanted to kill Anzai, the trow code had forbid it.

“You’re day will come, mark my words, drow,” Duishi said coldly in drow.

“And when it does,” Anzai was forced to pause from the pain in his eyes. “You will be nothing but blood on my blades.”

And Anzai darted into the shadows.

Duishi sighed as he gazed blankly at the ground before him. He tried to let go of the thirst for revenge. No matter how hard he tried, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let go of revenge till it was settled.

In the red sun at the horizon, he turned back to walk back home; across the sea to his native land of Soledon, land of the elves...

Author Notes: If anyone is interested, I have just designed a map for The Black Realm. Its on my website. Its there if anyone cares enough to wonder the layout of the world. If you do care enough, go to my website.