The Approaching Storm

[Λύσις]

Introduction: Concerning Comments, Complaints, and Colors


This story follows the early life of my character, Kartaikian Stormcloud, from before he became known as Stormcloud and before he found the cursed blade Soulsplitter. The story will cover both of those happenings, along with much more...probably. The character this story concerns, Kartaikian, is in my signature. Ignore Kartaikian's current bio, as according to his character post, because this story is meant as a replacement to his biography. Feel free to comment, in fact please do. Don't spam though; keep all comments concerning the story.

Also, if the bright color annoys you or hurts your eyes, just complain. If I get enough complaints I'll change it.


Prologue: Unforgivable Actions; Unavoidable Reactions


Shadows drifted across the world, as dark storm clouds, soon joined by equally dark smoke, crawled over the Moon, hiding its bare white face and shielding its soft glow. Amidst the cold, dark night stood a lone figure, staring off into the deep North. Behind him, to the far South, hundreds of small buildings stood, arranged into a small town. From one of the buildings poured out a dark black smoke, which could at first be mistaken for an innocent fire, set peacefully in a fireplace for the purpose of warming the house and cooking food. However, the orange glow that soon followed, and the amount of smoke, soon indicated that this fire was far from controlled and innocent. So did the cries from the townspeople, which took a few minutes to come to full volume.

Upon hearing those cries, Kartaikian continued on his way into the mysterious North. He walked normally, not rushing, pacing himself for the long travel. Behind him, the fire spread to nearby buildings, increasing the smoke. As the smoke increased, so did the shouts and cries. Not once did he look back. The fire was the final straw, his undoing. The fire was no mistake, no mishandled flame or accidental spark. The fire was made with the full intention to destroy and kill. For that, Kartaikian could never forgive the arsonist. He could have forgiven someone who'd started a fire accidentally, even if it led to many deaths. Intentionally though...murder he could not forgive. How could people be so...cruel?

With him he brought very little. Food and water, whatever would fit in his pack; his trusty recurved bow and all the black raven-feathered arrows he had; and his bright, shiny, steel longsword. If he'd had a horse, he would have brought that too, to make his travels much shorter and easier. Where he was headed he didn't know. It wasn't important. All that mattered was that he got away from his hometown, and the cruel people that lived there. He feared he would kill everyone in the name of revenge if he didn't leave. So he set his eyes to the North, and walked in that direction all night, occupied by only the storm clouds and smoke that wouldn't leave him alone.

Eventually the smoke vanished into the atmosphere, but the storm clouds remained even as the Sun peeked its face over the edge of the world, setting the skies aflame; aflame with no smoke, except for the clouds which seemed to fit the analogy. In the light of day, Kartaikian could see clearly, and could be seen clearly by whatever animals lay hidden in the trees and bushes that littered these lands. Kartaikian himself was dressed fully in gray, apart from his black chainmail and backpack, gloves and scabbard, and boots. His clothes matched his unusual gray hair and eyes. Normally he didn't wear all gray, but he had been in a rather gray mood the night before. Still was, in fact.

The lands were not gray, however. In fact, they were far from it. The grass was a cheery bright green, and the trees were a warm and natural red color, as they were all year long. The bushes were a bluish-green color, and had clumps of blue and orange berries hanging off them. The blue ones were rather good, healthy and sometimes used in medicine. The orange ones were deadly poisonous, however, and used in the exact opposite practice from medicine: murder. They were a rather efficient way to kill someone.

Kartaikian picked bundles of both colors. Who knows what he'd need them for?

The day wore on, and yet he still walked, ever North. He ate once, and drank thrice, but walked as he did. By the time the day ended, he saw a town in the distant West, silhouetted by the setting Sun. He changed his direction and walked toward it. He managed to get to it around midnight. Tired and aching, he leaned up against the wall surrounding the town, and slept. He would enter and explore in the morning. Having walked for almost twenty hours straight, he needed to rest now.


Notes: The Prologue and the First Chapter

Regular chapter posts will likely be longer. This is, after all, a prologue. The first chapter will come eventually, but don't ask me when because I don't know. In fact, the more you ask, the longer it'll take. Okay...not really.

[Λύσις]

Introduction: Origin of the Storms


So far, no replies, no comments, no complaints, no questions, no nothing. That's fine with me, especially considering the somewhat short amount of time since my last post. This chapter discusses the origins of both "Stormcloud," Kartaikian's nickname and "Stormrider," Kartaikian's horse.


Chapter I: Stormcloud and Stormrider


Kartaikian arose with the Sun. As the dawn stretched its rosy fingers over the horizon, Kartaikian opened his eyes to a new day. As he lay against the wall, though, he still felt weary, and closed his eyes again momentarily. Before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep once again...

Suddenly, a sharp poke to the ribs woke him up. Standing over him was a tired-looking guard, armored with iron platemail, and armed with an iron glaive. It was with the butt of said polearm that he'd been poked with.

"What're you doing out here? You a beggar? A bum?" the guard asked.

Kartaikian rose to his feet, answering "No, more of a vagrant, a vagabond."

"Well," the guard said, looking him over, "we welcome all. So, welcome, vagrant, to the town of Nylahre." The guard led Kartaikian to the front gate, where another guard stood, armed with a poleaxe. "May I ask your name?" the first guard asked.

Kartaikian looked at the guards, and then up at the sky. The Sun was just rising, giving a pink color to the skies, all except for the storm clouds, still as drab and gray as before. He'd left behind his town, his life. Kartaikian thought to himself for a moment before answering.

"You can call me Stormcloud, for I am a dark shadow drifting about with no purpose," he said. With that, he walked past the guards and entered the town known as Nylahre.

Nylahre was a busy town, even at such an early time in the morning. Here he would stay a short while, learn the news, buy equipment, and see about getting a horse. He would listen to the local myths and learn about the local geography. Maybe he'd even buy a map.

People were everywhere, which made Kartaikian slightly uncomfortable. He knew what people were capable of, and he didn't trust anyone. He kept his gloved hand near his sword. His first stop was at the town marketplace. He bought some dried meat, and a few other food items. After a bit of searching he found a fletcher. From the fletcher, Kartaikian bought some arrows, gray-feathered. Next he found a herbalist, from which he bought a few medicinal herbs. Always handy.

Kartaikian had plenty of money, clearly. The last place he stopped was at a stable. He spoke to the stabler, in hopes of buying a horse.

"Sir, might you have any horses I may buy?" Kartaikian asked. The stabler had been brushing a rather fine black horse, and turned to look at him. He set aside the brush, putting it on a bench, and spoke.

"I have very few horses actually for sale. Most of the steeds I have I'm just lodging for other people." He turned back to the black horse. "This particular one is my own. Here follow me, I'll show you the ones I'm selling." He walked through the stable to the back, expecting Kartaikian to follow, as he did. The stabler directed Kartaikian's attention to a smallish white horse, a tall and thin brown horse, and a slightly overfed black horse, speckled with white. None of them would work. They didn't look up to the job.

The stabler clearly saw Kartaikian's discontentment, and tried to convince him that they weren't so bad. "This brown one here may seem slight, but he's really spirited. Always follows direction. And the white one can travel for hours at a time..." Something had caught Kartaikian's eye though. In the back, kneeling on the ground and looking rather bored, was a large, strong looking, tall, gray horse.

"What about that gray one, there?" Kartaikian asked.

The stabler looked at the horse, and then at Kartaikian before answering. "You sure are a colorful person, aren't you? That horse isn't exactly for sale." He whistled quietly, and the gray horse stood up, walking up to the door. The stabler petted the horse while he continued to speak. "This is one of my own. He's...a special case, for sure. He shows such great potential, but I just can't seem to get him to do anything. Truth is, he just won't let me ride him. I'm sure you'd much rather have a better horse, one you can ride."

There was just something about this horse, though, that Kartaikian liked. Besides the fact that it was gray. "Does he have a name?" Kartaikian asked.

"Yes, in fact. He's named Stormrider. Didn't name him myself, actually, but I suppose it does seem fitting. An all gray horse...only one I've ever had. I guess if you really wanted it, I could sell it. He's really no use to me."

"Can I just try him out a moment? Oh, and I'll need to buy a saddle and stuff." Kartaikian pointed to some of the saddles and other horse items up against the wall. The stabler grabbed a saddle that looked like it was made particularly for the gray horse, as it fitted perfectly. It was made of black leather, and Kartaikian noticed it was larger than most of the other saddles and had room for a lot of saddlebags to be attached.

Kartaikian was surprised at how large the horse actually was. It was tall and strong, larger than the other three horses, but not the biggest horse that Kartaikian had seen. It looked like it was made for long runs. The stabler got it all set up, saddle and everything, and then handed the reins to Kartaikian. "You know how to ride, right?"

"Indeed I do," Kartaikian answered. He mounted the horse, and guided it to walk out of the stable. At first it didn't do anything, but eventually it began to walk towards the exit. When it got there, it bent over to eat the grass. Kartaikian kicked it, to get it to walk again, but it just turned around a bit and ate more grass.

"See, I'm telling you, that horse is the laziest I've seen. Doesn't want to do anything, except eat, though I'll tell you he looks like he was made to run," the stabler said.

Kartaikian wasn't done yet, though. He bent over to whisper in the horse's ear, urging it to move. He prodded it with his heels again, and guided it to move with the reins. Finally, it began to walk, around in a circle, before stopping. "He doesn't seem to have the motivation," Kartaikain said. "I'm sure if I train it long enough, I can get him to listen." Somewhat to the stabler's surprise, Kartaikian agreed to buy the horse, along with all the stuff that went with it, including the empty saddlebags.

"That'll cost you a lot of money, mind you," the stabler said. Kartaikian withdrew a large bag of coins, counting them out as the stabler called them. "Well, he's all yours now, do with him what you will," the stabler said after receiving his pay. "Have fun with him..."

After a bit of prodding and whispering, Kartaikian was able to guide the horse away from the stables. Interestingly enough, when they were out of sight of the stabler, the horse seemed to get a bit happier, and listened a bit better.

Kartaikian went back to the marketplace, and began to fill some of the saddlebags with necessary items. When he was done shopping, he went to the local inn. The horse stayed in the inn's small stable outside, while Kartaikian rented a cheap small room. The Sun was just beginning to set, but Kartaikian was tired.


Notes: Lost In Pronunciation?

The name of the town is "Nylahre" which, frankly, is hard to pronounce. So, to help you out, I'll tell you how to pronounce it. It's pronounced [ni-layr]. Hopefully that helps. Also, Kartaikian is pronounced [kar-tai-kee-in].

Or something like that...

[Euphoria]

I thought I would make things a little bettter than "fine" with a post ^.^

Your imagery in the prologue and once again when bartering with the stabler is top-notch. I really felt like I had been sucked in and was watching Kartaikian do these things. However, I did feel like you had talked about smoke and storm clowds just a little too much at the start. Perhaps you could get a thesauras and try to work that out in future works?

Originally Posted by Lysis

As the dawn stretched its rosy fingers over the horizon, Kartaikian opened his eyes to a new day.

I am in love with this sentence. The sun's rosy fingers is brilliant; a truly fabulous metaphor!

Keep writing this, Lysis! It is really great work and I would love to see you steer it away from the common fantasy genre.

[Λύσις]

Introduction: Concerning Dawn's Rosy Fingers

In response to Sweet Simplicity I would like to say that I like that epithet as well, which is of course the reason I used it. I read it in one of Homer's famous works, The Odyssey, and decided to use it. Like I always say, Good ideas are worth using.


Chapter II: Thunder and Lightning, the Two Edged Blade


'Twas not the Sun that woke Kartaikian. Nor was it the thunder. It was, in fact, the lightning that woke him up. While he lay in the inn's bed, he saw it flash again, followed closely by the rumble of thunder. Outside he heard the sound of horses, panicking.

Kartaikian got out of bed. He was already fully dressed, and now all he had to do was get his pack on and strap his quiver to it, and put on his belt and scabbard. The first thing he did after that was go outside, to make sure his horse wasn't one of the panicking horses. Indeed it wasn't, and while the other horses in the inn's stable were frightened and apprehensive, Stormrider simply knelt in the corner, eating from a pile of oats, not the least bit concerned.

With that, Kartaikian went back inside the inn. He went to the inn's bar, and sat at a table. Also in the bar were a few other people, more than Kartaikian would expect for so early in the morning. At one table were three dirty looking men, who looked as if they'd been drinking all night. They were clearly drunk, and blabbering nonsense about sea monsters and ghosts. There weren't even any seas nearby.

At a table in the corner resided an old, gray haired man, who had a mug full of cold water. While most of the tables had lit candles on them, his did not. There were also a few men sitting right up at the bar. The younger one had a mug of ale and a chunk of bread with cheese spread on it. The oldest one had an apple, but no drink. The one who looked to be neither older or younger didn't have anything but a book, and was well absorbed in it.

Finally, a bartender attended to Kartaikian, asking for what he'd like to eat or drink. The bartender was actually a female, who seemed rather young for bartending, and had red hair. She was holding three mugs of beer, which must be for the three drunk men at the other table.

"I'll just take some black tea, thank you," Kartaikian told the bartender. She nodded her head, walked over to the other table and replaced the drunkards empty glasses, and then went to brew some tea. When she finally came back, she had a steaming teapot and a small mug (apparently they didn't have teacups) into which she poured the tea.

She walked off after taking his pay, and Kartaikian sipped the hot black tea. The tea didn't taste relatively fresh, and was probably brewed earlier and just reheated for Kartaikian now, but he didn't care much. As he drank his tea, he listened to the other people in the room.

The drunk men were the loudest, and also the hardest to understand as they slurred their speech. Kartaikian heard one of them say something about an evil spirit attacking a group of people and drowning them in a lake, but the other kept insisting that the lake was filled with blood. The third one was currently laying unconscious on the table, his beer spilling and putting out the candle.

Also talking were the two men at the bar who weren't reading. They were more intelligible, but not necessarily more reliable. The older one was telling the younger one about a ruined city that he'd been to years before. He said he was sure there was some kind of hidden treasure or ancient artifact there, and he planned on returning if he could ever remember where the town had been. The younger one just nodded and agreed with him, occasionally asking questions.

The old man in the back of the room wasn't talking, as he was alone. He just looked about the room suspiciously, drinking his mug of water. Kartaikian also noticed, which slightly surprised him, an unsheathed sword leaning against the wall next to the old man, point down.

By the time Kartaikian had finished his tea, he hadn't really learned anything. He was just about ready to leave when the unexpected happened. With a loud crash, someone kicked in the inn door. A man came in, wearing a hooded cloak that covered his face, and wielding two longswords, both with one serrated edge. The blades were bright, but had the appearance of being made from copper rather than steel.

Immediately recognizing the person (despite not seeing his face) Kartaikian quickly retreated to the darker areas of the bar. So far, the man hadn't noticed him, luckily. The man walked up the the bartender, and inquired in a loud voice, "I'm looking for someone who supposedly slept in this inn last night. I wonder if you might know where I can find him?"

The bartender backed away from the man before answering, "I wouldn't know unless he's been in the bar. You'll have to ask the innkeeper otherwise. What's his name?"

"He wouldn't have told you his name, I'm sure. He's tall though, and although he's young, his hair is completely gray." The man looked about the room. By now everyone was looking at him. Even the man who'd been reading a book looked up at the armed man occasionally.

Kartaikian was still far in the back of the bar, where there was no light. Somewhat close to him was the table at which the old man was sitting. He'd picked up the blade that had been up against the wall before.

The redheaded bartender spoke up. "Actually, I did see someone like that. I served him black tea half an hour ago. I thought he was still here..." she looked about the room, "...but apparently not."

"Do you know where I could find him?" the man asked.

"No, I don't. Wherever he is, he's probably hiding from you." She didn't know how true that was. "Who are you anyway?"

The man didn't answer. Instead he began to leave. Right before he got to the door though, the youngest man at the bar spoke up. "I don't think he left yet, sir. I saw him in here a couple minutes ago. Check the back maybe."

Kartaikian cursed under his breath.


Notes: That's About 79 Points in Scrabble, You Know!

Although this certain section isn't exactly the best, or at least I didn't think so, it is important to the story. Or at least, a few parts of it are. I decided to end on a cliffhanger, because I don't want any of the chapters to be too excruciatingly long. That might deter someone from reading it.

Postscript: The title of this note is referring to the only six syllable word in the note.

[Ti-Link]

Great job Lysis. Keep it up, I'm actually hooked to the story!

[Λύσις]

Introduction: And Finally I Update!

Sorry I took so long, but the server messed up the last time I tried to update, and I've been gone for a few days. That and I've been lazy. Anyway, here is the next chapter. To make up for the long delay, this chapter is extra long.


Chapter III: Seven Hours After Midnight

The hooded man brandished his two blades, and turned to the dark corners at the back of the bar. He didn't know it yet, but he was looking right at where Kartaikian stood. As he walked back there, he was interrupted by someone holding a bright steel longsword, with a crimson ribbon hanging from its hilt.

Holding it, in a peaceful position, point towards the ground, was the old man. Although he held the blade with skill, he didn't look like much of a threat to anyone in his old age. The hooded man, though, not wanting to harm anyone or be harmed, asked the man to stand down.

The old man refused, saying, "who are you, and what is it you want?"

"I made this clear already, did I not?" the cloaked man said. "I am here in search of someone, who's supposedly just back there," he said, motioning to the back of the room.

The old man turned his head to the back of the room, and then spoke. "I see no one back there, do you?"

"I haven't the time for this, stand down or stand back!" When the old man chose to stand still, the hooded man spoke into the darkness. "I know you're back there, and you know who you are!"

"Why did you follow me here?" was the reply. "What are you after?"

"The world is a dangerous place. When I heard about the fire I went immediately to the town, looking for you. Imagine, though, my surprise when I didn't find you," the man with two swords said. "I thought you were dead, at first. Do you know what the results of the fire were? An entire half of a quarter of the town burned to the ground, burnt to ashes. Twenty-three people, including your grandfather, which I assume you know, died."

Of course, Kartaikian did know that. It was why he'd run off. His grandfather was one of the first people to die, as his house was one of the first to burn. The fire had been started by a flaming arrow, which had hit the thatched roof. One arrow was all it took to burn down an eighth of the town, and twenty-three people. Kartaikian had been outside the house when it had happened, and he rushed in too late.

His grandfather had been closer than his father for his entire life. In fact, his father had been around long enough to name Kartaikian, and then left him with his grandfather. He'd spent all of his 15 years in his father's father's house. His father was almost never at home, and he'd never seen his mother before. Even when his father visited, which wasn't often or for very long, his mother never did. For all Kartaikian knew, his mother could be dead.

His father was not dead, though, and he'd always known that. He showed up at the house randomly at least once every year, for five minutes to a couple hours.

When his grandfather had died, Kartaikian was left without any real family, and a burning contempt for whoever had started the fire. At first he thought about seeking vengeance, but he didn't have a clue who'd done it. So instead, he just left, and now here he was. He hadn't been gone for more than three days and from nowhere his father shows up looking for him?

"What's your point? Why are you here?" Kartaikian asked.

"I'm your father, don't you think I care?" the hooded man asked.

"Care? Is that why you left me alone for 15 years? Please, father, elaborate."

"I couldn't stay with you, but I still care for you. It's far too complicated to explain to you why. I still have helped you though. Where do you think all that money you have came from?"

"Why are you here? Answer my question already."

"I told you, the world is a dangerous place. It's not a good idea for you to run off into wilderness. You may think you are ready, and you may think you're prepared, but no one ever is. Just go home, mourn with your fellow townsmen. Get over it, and get on with life. Don't just waste it all." the cloaked man, Kartaikian's father, said.

"You don't understand, you know that right? You know nothing about me, truly." Kartaikian needed to create a diversion, so he could get away. He fired an arrow at his father's feet, distracting him, and then ran past him. He pushed his father over in order to slow him down, and as Kartaikian exited the bar, his father fell into the old man's table.

Kartaikian whistled, and Stormrider came to his side. He mounted the horse and guided it to the main gate. It seemed much more willing to listen today, and ran to the only way out of Nylahre. It was raining now, hard and fast. Lightning lit up the skies, and thunder filled the air. The sky was completely overcast with pitch black clouds.

And yet, it was only around seven hours after midnight.

As Kartaikian rode Stormrider through the wind and rain, he heard the sound of a horse following. At first fearing that it would be his father again, he tried to speed Stormrider up, but although he was clearly strong enough and fit enough, the horse didn't want to go any faster.

Soon, someone riding a white horse pulled up beside him. He knew his father's horse was black, so it wasn't him. In fact, he was surprised to see that it was the old man from the inn. Kartaikian slowed the horse down a little. Or at least, tried to. In doing so, the horse decided to stop moving altogether, causing the other horse to speed by. The old man guided the white horse in a sharp turn back to Kartaikian.

"Why are you following me? Who are you?" Kartaikian shouted over the rain, wind, and thunder.

"My name is Aydriak. I assume you'll need some kind of shelter for this storm, and a place to hide from your father, right?" the old man said.

"I need neither, but what are you offering?" Kartaikian asked.

"Follow me!" Aydriak said. He led him to a small outpost of buildings a few miles away from Nylahre. There was about five small buildings, surrounded by three small towers. In the middle of the outpost was what appeared to be a trapdoor, leading down into the ground and shut to keep out the rain.

Next to the largest of the small buildings was a small stable, where they put their horses. The old man, as Kartaikian could now see, was dressed in a red cloak to keep out the rain and wind, and had his sword strapped to his belt, but lacking a scabbard.

He also had a wooden staff, to aid him in walking. "Old age...not fun," Aydriak said. He led Kartaikian into the small building to the left of the largest of the buildings. Inside was a desk, littered with papers, three bookcases lining three of the walls, so full that many books were stacked on top of them, and a small bed. Scrolls were piled in pyramidal stacks around the room, in random places on the floor.

"What is this?" Kartaikian asked, as he looked around the literature crowded room.

"It's a bit of a story, but surly one worth telling. You see, I was once an adventurer. I would travel the world just because I could, and oftentimes I would return with more than I left with. Obviously, I'm far to old for that now. However, I didn't want all the information I'd learned about the world in my time to be lost forever. So I began to write much of it down. I gathered a small band of people who wished to become adventurers like myself, and I told them what I knew, and sent them off to travel.

"The books on that shelf," he pointed to the one on the far wall, "are written by myself. All the others are simply books written by other people that I've collected. A lot of the scrolls are mine as well. This small outpost was built for my small band of adventurers, because all this stuff just wouldn't all fit in my house. I have another building devoted simply as a library, one to hold the many artifacts we've collected, and another for supplies. It also wasn't very safe, as much of this is valuable, hence the watchtowers.

"Anyway, you seem like the kind of person in search of a good adventure. Now, I'm not sure you'd really like to join my little group here, but for now you can stay with me. This room is open for you to sleep in, as no one normally uses this bed. It's here for when I spend long nights up writing in my books."

Kartaikian listened to his story with interest. "Well, thank you for your hospitality. I think though that I'll be leaving in the morning."

The old man nodded his head, and then left the room. Kartaikian went to bed.


Notes: Familial Relations and Spontaneous Creations

In this chapter, we meet Kartaikian's father. Or rather, we met him in the last chapter, but now know who he is. Kartaikain's father is important to the story, and will likely appear again. Likely. Technically, I don't know exactly what will happen, as I write these stories spontaneously. Seriously. I make up everything I write right on the spot, and haven't the slightest idea what will happen until I write it. So, stay tuned as we find out together what happens to Kartaikian Stormcloud!

[TAB]

I love it. One minor spelling error, where the father says 'to' instead of 'too', but that's not nearly as grievous an error as some that I've seen in the stories of others. I must say, this is really fascinating, and I'm completely desperate to hear the next tidbit. It almost makes me want to do the same type of definition for Tacheon...

Good job, and keep up the good work!

[Λύσις]

Introduction: Back From Where I Was Before

Yeah, it's been a while, but I'm back. Here's the next chapter, which involves Kartaikian reading a lot of stuff. Everything written in italics is written down in the story. The myths that he'll be reading are important later on in the story. Most likely, that is.


Chapter IV: Without Conclusion

Smoke. Heat, light, fire. Flames. They wouldn't leave; they wouldn't die. Through the haze of heat and smoke, there was a face, visible but unrecognizable...watching...seeing everything. All went dark...

Kartaikian awoke from his disturbing dream at the sound of his body hitting the floor. It wasn't a long drop, but it knocked over a stack of scrolls; one of them opening up as it rolled along the wood planks, finally stopping when it hit a bookcase. He didn't pay much attention to it at first, and got up off the floor.

It was still quite early in the morning, and no one appeared to be awake. It was also still raining, but it wasn't quite as windy and there was no thunder and lightning. Kartaikian decided he'd best leave now, before anyone awoke and tried to entice him to stay. He turned to the stack of scrolls, and began to restack them. However, something on the unrolled parchment caught his eye.

It was a grotesque and bloody illustration of a man being cut in two with a giant pair of sicssors, composed of two halves of a sword. To further get the point across, all the blood was drawn in red ink. Needless to say, it caught Kartaikian's attention, and he read the caption that went along with it.

Drawing to left: an illustration based on ancient writings found in the ruins. Supposedly the ancient blade had a will of its own, and sliced in half anyone who touched it. The interesting part of the description was that the blade itself was actually composed of two parts. In my illustration I estimate the size the blade must have been in order to cut someone in two vertically, which seems to be the direction described.

I assume the blade to only exist in myth, as a blade with a "will of its own" is not a practical idea. My guess is that it was used to threaten people who opposed the throne. I notice the only writings that say anything about the mythic blade were within the royal buildings themselves, and no one outside of the royalty seemed to know anything about it. I also notice that the blade is not here, so if it did exist it has long been taken somewhere else.

The story interested Kartaikian, and he continued to read. It was clearly some kind of journal concerning someone's exploration of some anceint ruins.

The inner cave: I discovered the cave, which I call the "cache," a while ago, but yesterday I found a way to get even deeper in. It's amazing the stuff I've found here. First off, there's the gold. Thousands of pounds of gold; well, that may be an exaggeration, but there's enough here to keep me wealthy for a long time, at least. That's not the most facinating thing though. Nay, the most facinating thing I've found are these scrolls. They're written in a different language from the rest of the writings I've been deciphering, so it'll take me a while to get these ones translated. Still though, these scrolls probably contain a wealth of information, everything I'll need to know about this unknown civilization.

I've packed up all the gold now, and the scrolls. I've been spending my time writing down any inscriptions I see on the walls of the inner cache for later translation.

Kartaikian scanned over a bunch of symbols and letters that must have been traced off the walls of the "inner cache." There was a lot, and most of them had notations underneath, the translations.

The mystic blade revealed: one entire scroll devoted to the mystic blade that I found described on that pillar weeks ago. It took me forever to translate, but I have done it. I've copied the entire thing in another scroll, but here I'll give a short summary.

The blade was supposedly a gift from the ancient civilization's gods. It was put there to express the will of their gods onto the ancient tribe, and had to be continuously appeased. To appease the blade, and therefore the gods, they would sacrifice those who'd done wrong, in order to cleanse the tribe of evil. The sacrifice was usually deprived of all of his/her belongings, which were later burned, and then the sacrifice was sliced in half with the blade. Unlike the description I'd found, the blade is not composed of two parts, but supposedly it had been broken by the evil spirits before being repaired by the gods, and has a crack running down the center.

The only person qualified to touch the mystic blade was the holiest man in the tribe, the high priest (or so I call him; he didn't have any title from the scrolls I read, but he seems to fit the description of a high preist). The preist would cut the man in two with the blade (how this was done I have no idea) and the sacrifice was then actually left to rot for seven whole days. The temple they did this at was, as you can imagine, empty for those seven days. Then the remains were burned, and the remains of that were buried.

The blade itself was supposedly kept in the highest part of the temple. I could never find the temple, so I assume it was destroyed. The preist would sacrifice once every month, the most evil person he could find in the tribe. It was a good way to keep crime down, I would assume. The preist would spend the rest of the month praying and cleansing himself, trying to remain holy.

Kartaikian skipped over a lot of information that didn't intrest him, and then found something intriguing.

The high preist's scroll: this scroll I found was written by the high preist and executioner himself, apparently. His handwriting was, well, horrid. Thus I was only able to decipher bits and peices of the scroll. Apparently, according to the preist, he knew more about the blade than anyone else (which would make sense; as he was supposedly the only one qualified to touch it) and had fed false information about it to just about everyone. I don't quite understand why he would do that, but the only thing I was able to get from it was that the blade had some sort of spirit within it. Supposedly the spirit of one of the gods, or perhaps an angel. Or a demon, I don't know. The spirit had possessed the preist when he'd touched it, and, according to the preist, "broke [his] heart in two."

He kept the curse, and his "broken heart" (this term seems to have a completely different meaning to this ancient civilization, one that has nothing to do with love) a secret from the rest of the people, and continued to sacrifice as payment for his wrongdoings. It seems that he thought that by appeasing the god that possessed the blade, he could, quote, "repair [his] heart." He also, supposedly, hid the blade somewhere where no one could find it, rather than in the top of the temple.

The scroll ends without conclusion, so whether he fixed his heart or not is not known to myself.

This scroll also ended without conclusion, so Kartaikian rolled it up and put it with the rest.

He exited the building and found his horse. He gathered his sword and quiver, putting them in their respective places on his body, and guided his horse away from the stables. As he began to leave, he saw the trapdoor in the middle of the outpost open up, and Aydriak climbed out. He saw Kartaikian and called him over. Telling his horse to stay where it was, he went over to the trapdoor.

"You're up, I see," Aydriak said. "Here, come down," he said, as he climbed down the ladder. Kartaikian followed him down, closing the trapdoor as instructed.

The ladder led down into an underground cave, which was lit by lanterns. The cave was filled with, surprisingly, gold. Gold coins mostly, but also many other treasures of gold, such as gold bars and such. There were other things too, like precious gemstones and old scrolls, and weapons as well.

"What is all this?" Kartaikian asked.

"This is my storeroom. All the stuff my group has collected through exploration and adventuring goes in here. Since you're leaving now, I might as well say goodbye and give you a little parting gift." He handed him a large bag of gold coins. "Don't bother rejecting them, I have so much gold I don't know what to do with it all. Please, take them."

Kartaikian did so, putting the heavy bag in his backpack.

"Well, do you have any plans as to where you're going now, or no?" Aydriak asked.

"Anywhere, really. Anywhere but here," Kartaikian answered.

"Well, you'll need a map then. I've mapped most of the lands around here, and I'll give you a copy. You seem like the adventuring type anyway, so maybe a bit of adventure would do you some good. There have been rumors of a powerful artifact in the ruins a bit of a way from here...they say that the man who recovers it will double his strength and power." Aydriak handed Kartaikian two scrolls. One was a map, the other one was a scroll about the sword that would double a man's power, according to itself.

"I don't really..." Kartaikian began.

"No, I insist. I have a few copies of that scroll. You have nothing better to do anyway, right? Anyway, you don't have to do anything with it if you don't want to."

With that, Kartaikian said his goodbyes, and departed.


Notes: The Sword of the Gods

This chapter speaks about a mystic sword that will play a very important part in this story. Pay attention to everything said about said sword. I have nothing left to write I guess...

[Sabbo]

This is great stuff!
So, it would be safe to say that the possessed sword and the sword that would "double a man's power" are one and the same?
One more thing; similar to you, I write spontaneously, but I'm surprised at how much you are able to write in this way, does it get really hard sometimes?

[Λύσις]

In response to your first question, you'll have to wait and find out, but I'd say your guess is pretty good.

As for your second question, why do you think there hasn't been an update in so long? ;D

[Λύσις]

Introduction: Back From The Dead

Hey! An update! Yay! I spent a while on this chapter, and finally got it done. Hooray. Here we meet a new character, or perhaps an old enemy...we also find an ancient artifact-or maybe a demon's trap.

Read! Read it I say!


Chapter V: "Oh Such Great Tragedy!"

A thick mist filled the air, making it very hard to see. Despite this, the tall ruins were still visible, their peaks and towers poking up above the fog. The sight before Kartaikian was that of an ancient and ruined city, set in a large depression which seemed to hold the fog in it like water in a bowl. Reading the map, Kartaikian confirmed that this was the location. He didn't see any harm in exploring it for a while. Maybe he really would find something...

The only way down into the city was via a steep damp hill. From the consistent unevenness of the slope, Stormcloud guessed that it used to be a stairway. His horse had no trouble descending the slope, and soon they were in the dead city surrounded with phantoms of water obscuring the view. Stormrider walked in a slow pace, changing direction from left to right and back again. Kartaikian was finally able to guide him to the tallest standing structure; some kind of tower.

Due to the lack of doors on the tower, probably because they'd been made of wood and had rotted long ago, even the inside of the building was filled with mist; a mist so thick, Kartaikian felt that he could have sliced it wide open with his blade. The only thing Stormcloud could find on this floor of the tower was a small altar. It was made of stone and coated (mostly; parts of it which were probably gilded with gold had been scraped off) with metal. Duly noted was the unignorable fact that the top of the altar was covered in a flaky brown substance; undoubtedly blood.

Kartaikian found the staircase, and began to ascend the tower. He left Stormrider in the misty foyer. As Kartaikian ascended the tower, the mist began to clear up; at least at this height. After a few minutes of tiring stair climbing, the stairwell opened into a small tower room. The room lacked a ceiling and was in clear disrepair. Stormcloud avoided walking in the middle of the floor, for the obvious fear of caving, and explored the small room. The shelves on the walls were littered with small trinkets, and various skulls (some human, some animal, and some...unrecognizable.) One skull was twice the size of a human head, and had large demonic horns protruding from it, charred black and sharpened to a fine point. The sight of the skull was unusually unnerving, and yet Kartaikian couldn't seem to look away from its gaping eye sockets. Suddenly he noticed something glimmer in the left socket.

Kartaikian lifted the skull, and a small coin dropped out. The coin wasn't even slightly tarnished or rusted, and shined like it was polished and waxed. He pocketed the oddity, and walked to the other side of the room. Or so he would have, had not the floor caved in. The loose bricks and all but supportive wooden supports gave way at Kartaikian's footstep, plunging him down to the main floor.

Or further. In fact, the main floor caved in as well, to Kartaikian's (and Stormrider's) utter surprise. Bricks, splinters, dust, altar, and all fell through into a dark cavern, chased by the cold mist. Shaky and bleeding from the head, but otherwise unharmed, Kartaikian rose to his feet. The sun lit up the cavern enough to navigate without falling into any unexpected pitfalls.

The cavern was intriguing; but the arcane symbols carved into the floor were somewhat disturbing. Not quite sure how to get out, Kartaikian looked about the cave looking for a clue. He quickly drew his sword when he heard the sound of something scurrying in the corner. It was just a rat.

However, the rat had come through a small gap in a large stone door. The door barely had hinges of any sort, and was a pain to open enough to slide through, but eventually Kartaikian got to the other side. A dark, looming shape took up the majority of the center of the room, and Stormcloud struggled to see exactly what it was. It wasn't until the figure moved that Kartaikian felt worried. He held his sword at the ready.

"Who be thee who stand before me?" the figure spoke.

"You may call me Stormcloud; by what name shall I call you?" Kartaikian said.

"I be known only by the name of Tragedy"

"Well...uh...nice...to meet you?"

"No it's not. It's quite the tragedy really. You look like you could have had such a great life ahead of you."

"Well I doubt that. Anyway...I guess...I'll be leaving now..."

"You cannot leave now, Stormcloud. I know, it's such a sad thought. That's where I got my name. I didn't make it up, my victims did. 'Oh such great tragedy!' they would call me. Of course, that was soon shortened to just Tragedy."

"Right...you wouldn't happen to know of any swords about here would you?"

"Actually there used to be one in this very room. I hear it was enchanted with the ability to double a man's strength; or maybe it was double the man's tragedy. I can't say I remember much. I also know of another one, it being the one you're holding; I assume that's not the one you want information on though."

"True...it's not...do you know where that sword is now?"

"I hid it. Nevermore should anyone touch it. The last man to do so took the longest time repaying me..." The figure shifted, revealing the fact that it appeared to bear wings. It stood at nearly five times Kartaikian's height, and was still shrouded in darkness.

"Repaying you?"

"Everyone faces Tragedy at one point or another...especially when they mingle with dark magics. It would seem your time is now. It would be so much easier if you'd just place your sword on the ground now..."

"I think I'd rather not, Tragedy. I'll be leaving now...goodbye-" something like a timber hit Kartaikian in the chest, sending him into a wall. His arrows scattered on the ground, and his sword lay down at his feet. Wincing in pain, he lifted his sword, and dodged another attack from Tragedy's great tail. He could see the creature clearly now, for the darkness had lifted. Standing before him was a monster; skin as black as night and wings as wide as the skies. Its claws bit the ground like greatswords, each one as long as Kartaikian's own leg. Its limbs were thick as trees, and its tail like a great branch with leaves of steel.

Kartaikian knew he stood no chance against this demon, and fled. The creature lurched towards him, but was cut short by the shackles at its feet. Kartaikian took a few moments to pile up the bricks (which were already piled, for the most part) and then climbed atop them and out of the cavern.

"Run Stormcloud! You cannot escape Tragedy!"

Mounting his horse, Kartaikian ran.

He didn't stop until he'd left the entire city. To his surprise there was someone there waiting for him. Mounted on a black horse, Kartaikian saw his father. His father was a strong man, taller than Kartaikian even, and with unusual white hair even though he wasn't very old; which must be where Kartaikian got his gray hair, even for being only 15. Kartaikian's father was dressed in black except for his cloak, which was white. Strapped onto his back were two identical swords.

"Kartaikian, I've been looking for you. How have you been?" he said.

"Why did you follow me? Can you not just leave me alone?" Kartaikian replied.

"I know you've made your choice; to leave home and explore-"

"Leave home? What home?"

"You know what I mean Kartaikian. I cannot keep you from your decision for two reasons. One: you are quite old enough to make decisions on your own, and two: it was the same decision I made long ago. The call of the wilderness and the lands unseen is just too strong to some people; it seems to run in the family.

"Take what I have to offer. My advice, and some money. You'll need both, trust me. My advice to you is to avoid anything that even smells like dark magic. The moment you run into demons or black spirits is the moment you've gone too far. In my opinion, that blade you're after is not a good thing."

"How did you know about the ancient blade?" Kartaikian asked.

"I talked with Aydraik, he told me about it. Don't think he betrayed you; I gave him little choice." He glanced over his shoulder at his blade. "Anyway, you can do as you will, but please stay away from that sword. I can't say it's necessarily dangerous, but my intuition says it's better left secret." He then handed Kartaikian a bag of coins. "Take these and know that from now on you must make your own living. I cannot support you any longer, you have reached the point where you must take care of yourself. Even so, do not think this is the last time we'll speak. I will find you again sometime." He smirked, and then with a look on his face that could only come from a loving father, turned his horse and headed into the horizon.

The blade. The ancient sword that can double a man's strength...or perhaps his tragedy. As he was pondering his decision, he remembered the odd coin he'd found. He took it out and examined it. One side bore only a five pointed star, and the other bore the symbol for the direction North. It glimmered brightly in the sun.

Interestingly, Kartaikian knew what the coin was. He'd heard of enchanted compass coins before, but he'd never known they truly existed. He got down on the dry and dusty ground, and found a relatively flat area. He stood the coin upright and then flicked it, sending it spinning. The sun reflected off of it in one large ray pointing in a single direction. North.

Wait though, it didn't point North. It was more Northwest then North. Kartaikian spurred his horse on in that direction. After a few minutes he spun the coin again. Now it pointed a little more West than North. After half an hour of repeating this cycle, he found a small building with a short tower extending from it. Stormcloud noticed the bell at the top of the tower; it was rocking slightly in the wind, but not so much that it rang.

He entered the building and saw that it was a temple. Kartaikian looked at his scroll again. If this was the temple...then the blade must be here somewhere. The highest point...

Kartaikian climbed the bell tower, and at the top was a cramped room which was mostly occupied by the bell. At the bottom of the stairs, Kartaikian heard his horse neigh, and panic. Someone was climbing up the stairs. Stormcloud drew his blade and hid under the bell. He peeked out to see a man dressed fully in black, with oily black hair. His skin was very pale and scarred. Kartaikian noticed the sore and chaffed skin on the man's wrists. He carried no weapon, so Kartaikian attacked quickly, trying to surprise the man.

The man surprised him however, as he reached out in the blink of an eye and grabbed the sword. Despite the fact that it had bitten deep and blood was running down the blade, the stranger kept holding on, and the wrenched it out of Kartaikian's hands. The blood on the blade was black and thick.

"Did I not tell you, Kartaikian? Tragedy follows people like a storm cloud." He raised the corner of his mouth to indicate the slightest bit of amusement at his own pun. He was still holding the sword by the blade when he hit Kartaikian on the side of the head with it. The heavy hilt almost knocked him out.

"Who are you? What are you?" Kartaikian said through gasps.

"I am Tragedy. I thought you knew this. I am the affliction that follows miserable people. Your father knows me well. Such a great tragedy I have brought down on him. Truly he is my main subject at the moment...I have one main subject every decade or so, until I can make their lives miserable to the point that they wish to die...and then I spare them death.

"You I follow for a few reasons. One being that you are related to your father, and your tragedy is his. Another being that your life is already quite the sad story. It's my...obsession...to make it worse."

"How do you know so much?" Kartaikian asked, looking into Tragedy's deep orange eyes. Familiar orange eyes, Kartaikian thought. The large demon form of Tragedy shared them...but they seemed more familiar than just that.

"The last thing I would want of you is to find that sword. I hid it for a reason. How tragic would it be if you never found what you set out for? So then...give me the coin."

"What...coin?" Kartaikian feigned ignorance.

"The guiding coin, the one that leads to the blade. The one you got from my..." he cut himself off here, as if he'd misspoke, or said something he didn't mean to reveal, "...tower. From that skull you found it in. Don't pretend you don't know."

Kartaikian reached into his backpack, as if for the coin, but pulled out a knife instead, which he lodged in Tragedy's leg. The demon jumped back more surprised than in pain, and dropped the sword. Leaving the knife, Kartaikian grabbed his sword and jumped out of the bell tower's window, landing roughly on the roof of the temple below, and rolling off of that and onto the ground. His horse stood a few feet nearby, and walked over to his master.

"We'll have to work on the landing-on-the-horse trick later, Stormrider," Kartaikian said as he spurred the horse away from the temple. Tragedy didn't seem to follow, but then he hadn't last time either. Kartaikian flipped the coin into the air, and the light reflected off of it in a beam pointing Southwest this time. He caught the coin, and headed in that direction.

He soon found a small secluded area near the city, composed of various ruined structures. He dismounted his horse and walked under a large arch. It led to a square walkway that surrounded an indent in the ground, in which stood a small pedestal against an isolated wall. He walked around the the stairs that led down to the pedestal. The coin in his hand broke in two, and Kartaikian dropped it on the ground.

On the pedestal balanced a sword. It's slightly wavy blade was a deep green and black color, which seemed to shift depending on the light. He didn't notice the dark form of Tragedy behind him as he reached out to grab the sword by the hilt...


Notes: Bleeding from the head, but otherwise unharmed.

Clearly Kartaikian is a strong person. He fell down from the top of a tower, twice, and was hit in the head and knocked into a wall. Yet, he is quite fine, don't worry.

Tragedy is a new face. We'll likely meet him again later on in the story. He plays an interesting part in Kartaikian's past as well. Probably. If I get around to making that so.