Generations : Chapter I - Unlikely Union

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The wind howled. It was difficult to hear the others in such a storm. Lyle looked over his shoulder and could see his commander barking orders ahead to him. The rain stung his face and made him squint his eyes. The sounds of the storm made it hard to understand anything that was happening.

Lyle looked back to the front of the field from inside the trench and saw the melee in front of him. The shadows of men and orc fought for supremacy. Lightning lit up the battlefield giving texture to the black figures. Drawing his sword, Lyle stood up from the hole, he turned back to face his commander who had more fever in his face as he yelled ahead at him. He shook his head and his raven hair streamed down his face. Swinging his head quickly, Lyle turned from the trench and ran into the battle.

He struck quickly at the figures in black. Becoming one with the darkness, Lyle blended into the melee.

“By Tunare,” the commander stood up but was soon stopped by one of his fellow soldiers.

“Commander!” the soldier cried.

Turning to face the young soldier, “What is it?!” He yelled quickly.

“The wizards are ready to rain the field. Do I give them the order?” the soldier asked.

Looking out to the field, he could see the surge of melee drawing closer. His army was falling back. He had to few of troops to suppress the orc invasion. The small town of Talron was where he called home. Home after the Great War and home after he took it upon himself to train a small militia in case of any insurgence by the local orc. It had been some time since the orc had returned. Thought to be badly beaten after the war, the orc had retreated into a small cave. He forbids any from approaching it in fear of wasting life.

“Commander!” the soldier called again.

He faced the field, hoping to find an answer in the storm.

“Sinsen, do we give the order?” the soldier asked one more time.

“Not yet, Lyle is out there,” Sinsen returned. He grabbed the sword from his back and as soon as he held it in hand the blade began to sparkle blue.

“What are you planning to do then Commander?” the soldier asked once more.

“Tell Fanima to hold off, tell her I will be back with our son,” Sinsen turned away and stood up into the storm. He made steps towards the melee when an arrow ricocheted off his plate armor. “What I wouldn’t give to see a druid’s face about now?” He jumped into the melee and his glowing weapon soon became a target for every attack. But the blade canceled every effort that tried. Sinsen called forth his elite swordsmanship ability and began to journey into the deep of the war.

He kept his eyes open but his ears were wet with wind and rain. The howls of men and orc echoed every so often giving his sense of distance a handicap. He brought down two orc with one swing and stepped over their bodies. Out of the side of his vision, he caught the glimpse of a blue blade wiping through the rain.

With great haste, Sinsen made his way towards the blade. He cut down three more orc before he found the bearer of the blade was not his son, but another orc. With great rage, Sinsen struck fast and the orc that commanded the sister sword fell quickly. Grabbing the sword from the orc hand, he felt a rush of strength and stamina renew him. In unison, the epic weapon he wielded made him an unstoppable warrior. He had given his oldest son Lyle, one of the blades, in not to aid him in battle but to also protect him from ill’s way.

He brought his sight across the ground in hopes to find his son only wounded or pinned underneath one of the gargantuan bodies of the orc but he could not see well. The rain hindered his eye sight. He began to walk forward when a hand reached out and grabbed him by the foot. Sinsen flashed his two blades down to the ground using the light that emitted from them to see who had touched him.

“Father, is that you?” a voice came.

Sinsen dropped his weapons and grabbed the arm that grabbed him and pulled him up to face him.

“Father, is that you,” the voice whispered.

Sinsen cradled the body in his arms and brought one of his blades up to illuminate the area around him. It was then he noticed it wasn’t his son, but the son of another soldier in his militia that had the name Tyron. “Hold on son, I'll get you some help.” Sinsen said as he put the boy back on the ground.

"Don't go," the voice said back. The young man was obviously scared and his wounds, although hidden from Sinsen, would only worsen with time.

"I'll get you help," Sinsen called back. The decisions of a commander were rarely understood. Sacrificing one life for others was a justifiable cause as a warrior. Holding up the lives of so many hostage while struggling and consuming resources for the few would always lead to defeat. "I'll get you help."

Turning his feet, he ran back towards the back line, sheathing his swords. He saw one of his men standing, looking out into the distance. When Sinsen came up to him, the soldier was startled but quickly regained composure, “Sir!”

“Where are the clerics?” Sinsen asked.

“They, uh, they are all out on the field,” the soldier answered.

"There is a man striaght out from me in need of attention. Go, help him.” Sinsen ran past the soldier. The rain stung his face and the rain drops dripped into his eyes blurring out his sense of sight momentarily every so often. Lightning lit up the ground once more and Sinsen could see a small tent in the distance.

The tarp of the tent pulled at the wooden stakes it was attached to as the wind rippled the side and roof. The flap door waved back and forth letting in all sorts of wind and rain. Inside, a light stone on top of a table lit the room and its three occupants. Sinsen stepped through and addressed the three quickly.

“I need additional men,” Sinsen demanded. The orc are fighting with a tenacity I have never seen. Something has them all riled up and it doesn’t seem to ebb any on the field. I have already lost what looks like half of my army. . .”

“What of the orc? Have you sized up their losses?” a figure said from underneath a hood.

“No. No, I haven’t. Its pitch black out and the weather isn’t helping our cause. By daylight none of us will be remaining,” Sinsen replied.

“Speak for yourself,” a voice came from behind him.

It was his old Fier'Dal friend Cendarien. He had traveled and settled down in his town after the great battle they had shared together. The battle had ravaged a great hole in his heart.

“I have seen many of the orc fall. Although the weather is bad, it doesn’t affect my eyesight. We are losing, and our men fight with all their souls. But it isn’t enough, we need the wizards.”

“We can’t use the wizards yet,” Sinsen said.

“And why is that,” the other cloaked figure asked.

“My…” Sinsen sputtered as he realized the council would only see his reason to be selfish, “My, my son, he is out there.”

“Lyle is out there?!” Cendarien turned from the table to look at Sinsen.

“We cannot bare the loss of this village on the life of one boy. Regardless of who his father is,” the cloaked figure said as he removed his hood. It was the mayor of the town.
“Sinsen, I can not jeopardize the village on one life. Even if its Lyle and you know I love him as much as you do.”

“I understand,” Sinsen replied, “But give me a few more minutes to look for him.”

“And what do you hope to find?” the other cloaked man asked.

Sinsen didn’t answer.

“Announce to the wizards to begin,” the mayor said to Sinsen.

“No!” Sinsen, “Just give me a moment!”

“I’m sorry Sinsen. I can’t allow that. I have to think of the village first,” the mayor replied. "While you search, the orc get closer to our women and children. What am I to tell them when half this town is massacred because of your own convictions."

It was then that Sinsen realized his job. Outside the field of battle, he was a friend and a father. Tonight, in the blistering sting of the rain and wind, he was a commander and general of a militia. Decisions had to made. The sanctity of life was paramount. "I'll order the wizards to begin."

Cendarien put a hand on Sinsen’s shoulder, “Old friend, lets go.”

Sinsen held his gaze on the three men in the tent. The two that were cloaked returned his gaze while the mayor bowed his head.

Cendarien pulled his friend back and outside into the raging storm.

The two sat outside the tent as the rain swirled around them. It took a couple minutes before Sinsen finally said something.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sinsen said.

Cendarien kept his hand on his shoulder, “I will find your son.”

Sinsen looked down towards his friend, “You’ll what?”

“Go, lead your men back to safety. I’ll return with Lyle. I promise,” Cendarien turned and ran into the rain.

Sinsen didn’t say anything as he watched his old friend run into the storm. He turned and walked towards the main tent to give the order to retreat, “Good luck old friend.”

Cendarien ran into the melee with both of his swords drawn. What he lacked in physicality he made up with his infravision and agility. His eyesight allowed him to see in the night as if it was daylight. He checked the bodies around him, until he saw an orc lying in wait as he sprinted straight ahead.

The orc were also gifted with infravision so a wood elf in the middle of a human army stuck out quite a bit and gained the admiration of some curious orc. Holding out his hand, a quick blast a flame licked forward and consumed the body of one of those orc. Cendarien leapt high into the air and over another orc and brought his twin blades down the back of the orc cleaving him in almost three. He continued his dance with another burst of flame from his hand consuming one more orc.

“Come on!” a shout came from behind him.

Cendarien turned towards the sound of the voice. He gazed into the distance and saw three more orc surrounding a human soldier. The voice was Lyle’s. He was still alive. Cendarien began to run towards him when another orc grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him around. The sudden spin took him off balance and he stumbled to the ground. The orc approached and raised his spiked club high into the air and stalled.

Cendarien wiped the dirt from his face and quickly rolled to the side. He looked up and noticed the orc remained in the awkward position for a few seconds before he fell to the ground. Cendarien blinked and could see the outline of a figure slowly dissolve from view.

“Ahhh!” a voice shouted.

Cendarien lost the vision in front of him and turned back to see the orc had picked up Lyle and were slowly pulling on his arms. It would only be a couple seconds before their brutal strength outdid the ligaments and muscles that held his arms in place. Cendarien dropped his swords and snapped his bow from off his back. It clicked into position and lit up with a magical glow. Knocking an arrow into it he aimed quickly and released the arrow.

It stuck the orc in the lower thigh from behind sending the orc reeling. Another arrow struck the other orc in the upper arm and soon a flurry of arrows sent both orc to the ground. Lyle stood up and looked into the darkness until he saw Cendarien in front of him.

“Can you run?” Cendarien asked.

“Yeah,” Lyle said as he gasped for fresh air.

“Then lets make haste,” Cendarien turned grabbing Lyle’s arm and running off the field of battle.

It wasn’t too long that the sky became white with light.

“Were not going to make it,” Lyle screamed from behind.

“Yes we will,” Cendarien returned as the footsteps he left began to glow with a white light. Saying the words as fast as he could, he granted them both the speed they needed to get out of harms way.

The light grew brighter and soon the battlefield was lit as if the sun had come up. The orc stood still and looked straight up into the sky. Bolts of lightning came pouring down striking the orc where they stood sending their bodies aflame and into ash. The lightning struck behind Cendarien and Lyle and was beginning to catch up with them. Cendarien could feel the warmth of the electricity on his back. He turned to see if Lyle was behind him still and he was. When he looked forward he saw the figure of an Erudite female. She held out both hands and Cendarien grabbed one and stopped. Lyle made his way and grabbed the other. Lightning stuck where they stood exploding the ground asunder.

Sinsen stood inside the command tent. He paced back and forth inside waiting. A soldier ran into the tent exhausted, “There back. There back.”

“Who?” Sinsen asked.

“Fanima, Cendarien, and Lyle. There back. He found him.”

Sinsen let out a sigh of relief. Turning to face the three figures in the tent, he gave a cross look and walked outside into the rain.

“I doubt they are aware of the situation at hand?” one of the figures mentioned.

The mayor, with his hood down washed his hands through his thinning hair, “Sinsen is the best we got sirs. He only means the best for his family and friends. I am truly greatful that he had decided to live here.” The mayor took a deep breath, “I mean, few truly know of the ordeal he and his friend Cendarien went through a couple years back.”

“I have heard of this fairy tale. The story of that rogue wife of the rangers,” the other figure said.

“It is not a fairy tail by any means,” the mayor replied sternly.

“Were you there?” one of the figures took his hood down revealing his high elven face. The beauty of the high elves was well known but the skin of this one of pristine beauty. Golden blonde hair was tied behind him revealing the sharp features on his face.

“I doubt this tubby fellow was,” the other man withdrew his hood revealing his dark blue face. "I doubt he's seen his own toes in years."

“A dark elf?” the mayor took a step back.

The dark elf turned and faced the high elf and gave a quick smirk.

“What is the meaning of this?” the mayor demanded as sternly as he could. He reached down and grabbed his thighs but neither him or his own thoughts of bravery could stop them from shaking.

“My associate is merely here to scout. Do not fear your life for it would be of no worth to kill you,” the high elf said.

The mayor didn’t reply but his eyes widened as the dark elf made a quick scare gesture toward him.

“Knock it off Toren, I have already said to much,” the high elf placed his hood back up over his head.

“Fine. But I think it would be fun to take this one back to Innoruuk,” Toren added.

The mayor screamed at the mention of his name.

“I would not be so scared mayor,” the high elf said, “It was your precious Sinsen that slayed him. That part of the fairy tale, we know is too true.”

“So pardon my manners when I wished his son to die. I hold,” Torden stopped to think of his words, “Ill will towards this human.”

With their last testaments, the two elves walked out of the tent.

The mayor let out a sigh of relief and walked to the flap in the tent. The rain had begun to let up. Holding his hand out, the rain trickled down his palm and to the ground. Turning back, the mayor kept repeating, “What have I done? Forgive me?”
Message Edited by Sorrowblades on 12-08-2004 04:51 PM
Message Edited by Sorrowblades on 12-08-2004 04:52 PM