Terrorgrim

[Terrorgrim]

 

 

Terrorgrim

 

1

 

 

The thunder rang through Terrogrim’s ears as he lay there, naked in the dirt. How long he’d been there, he didn’t know, he wasn’t even sure if he’d have ever woken up, had it not been for the torrential rain plummeting from the heavens.

 

The thunder and the rain were not that unbearable; in fact he embraced them, like a warm blanket. It was the burning pain in his head that he couldn’t stand. It was that searing pain that made him scream out loud, clawing at his head as if trying to rip it open to free whatever it was that burned inside.

 

Slowly, he scrambled to his feet, slipping in the mud, and for the first time since waking up he felt exposed, trying his best to cover himself up, he began to walk. To where, he didn’t know, he didn’t even know where he was now, or what he was doing there, or even who he was; all he seemed to remember was his name.

 

Through the trees and the rain, in the distance, Terrorgrim could see a light. A building in the distance, as well as the feint sound of laughter and merriment.

 

I’ll head for there, maybe there’s someone who can help me.

 

And so he did, slipping through the mud, trying to keep his feet and fight to stay conscious through the agonising burning in his head, he headed towards the now clearly visible tavern and the feint sounds of humanity he could hear escaping from there.

 

* * * * *

 

Pula’s Tavern was alive with energy, as it always was of a night time. Even to the untrained senses the mood was electric, laughter and song dominated filled it’s walls as it always did.

 

Jezebelle, being a Witch, picked up on this especially. The mood fed her soul, nourishing it and keeping it strong, this was why she still came to Isla Prima, it was one of the few places left on the continent of Seridia still untouched by the dark times they were living in. It was a place of happy and wilful naivety, and Jezebelle’s soul flourished in it.

 

“Jez, it’s your turn, in or out”

 

Jezebelle blinked back into the room, away from her thoughts to see her companion Durghan tapping his fingers impatiently.

 

“Sorry Durg, deep in thought for a second there.” She looked down at her cards.

 

“Well?” He prompted again, typical dwarf.

 

“No, I fold”, Jez tossed her cards onto the table next to the pile of chips, two pair, ace’s and kings, not an altogether terrible hand but she was suddenly in no mood for gambling.

 

“Are you alright tonight lady? You seem a bit pre-occupied?” Durg looked at her, as if trying to read an answer.

 

“Do you….feel, anything right now?” She asked.

 

“How do you mean?” He asked, scratching his head.

 

“It’s like a pain, no more a fear. Even through all the laughter, I can feel it.”

 

“You know what Jez? You really creep me out when you talk like tha-“

 

Before Durghan had even been able to finish his sentence, the tavern door flew open, banging against the stone wall. Stood there in the doorway was a shivering, huddled form. No sooner had everyone had time to acknowledge it, than it collapsed in a heap of the floor.

 

* * * * *

 

Terrorgrim opened his eye’s slowly, the daylight flooding in through the window stinging his eye’s at first. He could make out a figure in front of him, as his eye’s adjusted, he could see it was the beautiful blonde woman he’d seen when he entered the tavern. Her long hair flowing around her petite and pale face seemed almost like a picture frame to the beautiful portrait she seemed to be.

 

“Awake then my boy, took your time I must say.”

 

Terrorgrim looked towards the sound of the hoarse voice to see a stout dwarf sat in the corner, smoking a pipe.

 

“We thought we’d lost you there for a second, gave Jez and me quite a scare you know.”

 

He smiled as he fed the pipe back into his mouth.

 

“I-I don’t-“

 

“Shhh,” the woman said, “if it’s too painful don’t try to speak. You have nothing to worry about.”

 

“But, who are you?” Terrorgrim managed to say.

The woman straightened up and began making a fuss, tidying his bed around him.

 

“Well, the question is I think, who are you? No one in the tavern last night recognised you and I must say I don’t either.” She stopped and looked at him, even through the unshaven mess he looked, she could see a naïve innocence in his purple eyes.

 

“But while we’re doing introductions, my name is Jezebelle, I’m the guild master of Witches and Wiccans guild, the dwarf is one of my most trusted companions, Durghan. Now don’t worry, your in good hands, we’re going to take care of you until you’re strong again.

 

“But where am I?”

 

“You’re above the tavern, Reca helped me bring you up here last night when you came in, she’s quite concerned you know.”

 

Jez smiled at him, there was something strange in his eye’s, she could see it, but she couldn’t place it. Purple eyes? She’d never seen a human with purple eyes before. What it meant she didn’t know, but there was something else, the birthmark, she'd seen it before, the Black Rose....

 

Jezebelle had been able to feel his pain, and his fear last night, it pierced through everything else in the tavern last night. But now he was here, in front of her, all she could sense off him was confusion, no sense of identity. Amnesia. She looked at the tired, blank expression on his face, and could feel, nothing.

 

“Well,” she began, “I think we’ll leave you to rest for a while.” Jezebelle started for the door and Durghan got up to follow.

 

“Wait,” Terrorgrim called after them, they stopped in the doorway and turned, “my name, my name is Terrorgrim.”

 

* * * * *

 

Over the next two weeks, Durgan and Jezebelle stayed with Terrorgrim on Isla Prima, building his strength back up. They taught him the simple things he needed to stay alive. Durghan taught him to hunt Deer and Rabbits for food and fur,he also taught him how to fight. Jezebelle on the other hand taught him how to mix simple healing potions, and build up gaps in his mind. She taught him how to harvest the herbs and minerals needed for alchemy and tried to help him with his memories.

 

One night, two weeks after they’d met, they sat again in Terrorgrim’s room above the tavern, next to the open hearth, just the three of them.

 

“So my lad, you’ve come a long way since we first met you hey?” said the dwarf, while chuffing on his pipe.

 

“But still I have no answers as to how you came to meet me in the first place Durg,” Terrorgrim sipped at his wine, absorbing the comforting heat from the open fire.

 

“That’s what we’re here to answer tonight Terrorgrim." She hesitated for a moment, "Tomorrow Durghan and I must leave for White Stone. We have a very important guild meeting we must attend, members from all over the two continents will be present, if you choose to follow then that’s up to you. You are more than welcome, but in case you don’t, I want to help you answer your questions tonight.”

 

Jezebelle sat there in front of Terrorgrim, with a pestle and mortar in her hands. She was mixing a potion, and it was one Terrorgrim knew well, he’d seen her mix it many, many times over the last few weeks, practicing. Everytime he’d asked what it was for, she would only answer you’ll see when the time is right.

 

“I see the look on your face Terrorgrim, care to share your thoughts?” Jez had the same sparkle in her eye that she always had, a kind of cheeky, but light hearted knowing.

 

“My lady, Henbane, Red Toadstool, Wormwood, I know this potion, it’s time isn’t it?”

 

“It is indeed time, this potion is called the Potion of True Sight, and I’m hoping that this will be the answer to your questions.” She replied.

 

“Hoping?” Terrorgrim sounded anxious.

 

“Come now laddie, you should know by now that nothing in this life is certain. Jez can only do her best, but wanting to remember, will help the potion work it’s magic boy. Subconsciously you must want to remember.” Durg gave him a subtle wink. Not for the first time Terrorgrim wondered how his two friends could have so much faith in him, when he had none in himself.

 

“Terrorgrim, that first night, when you woke and found yourself laying in the rain, you said your head was burning yes?”

 

“That’s right Jez.”

 

“I’m certain that the burning you felt was your memory, it was fighting to come back to you Terrorgrim. Subconsciously you do want to remember. There’s one other thing, your birthmark, the small, Black Rose on the back of your neck?” Jezebelle stopped and looked up at him, deadly serious.

 

“What about it Jez?” Terrorgrim could see the change in her, he prepared himself, as he knew he would not like what he was going to hear.

 

“I’ve seen that mark before Terrorgrim, the Black Rose is the sign of a certain Drow Bloodline.”

 

“Drow?”

 

“Drow are a race of elves, but unlike normal elves they live in the darkness, they come from the caves and caverns of this world, as close to the underworld as you can get without dieing. Most Drow, however dark they may look are in fact peaceful creatures, often misunderstood by others.” Jezebelle stopped again, she was finding this very hard, she couldn’t imagine how it was for her new found friend.

 

“Most Drow?”

 

“There are a few houses, or bloodlines who are not so peaceful. Terrorgrim, the Black Rose birthmark is the sign of the house of the Black Rose, the bloodline of Dam’escinous.”

 

“Boy, the Dam’escinous bloodline is one of the oldest on this world, it’s also one of the most damned. The house of the Black Rose is infamous for being one of the most feared and hated amongst the elven civilisation.” Durg emptied his pipe and poured Terrorgrim another glass of wine. He could see the boy would need it.

 

“But, I’m human. How can I be from their bloodline?”

 

“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Jezebelle emptied the completed potion into a cup and handed it to Terrorgrim to drink, Terrorgrim took the cup and looked directly into Jezebelle’s eyes in a moments hesitation.

 

“We are both here for you now Terrorgrim, you have nothing to fear. Drink.”

 

In one gulp the potion was gone, almost instantly, it’s effects began to take hold.

 

FLASH

 

Terrorgrim was laying in a cradle, a cradle formed of bone. The walls around him carved out of a dark cavern, above him he could see the webs of a thousand spiders, tangled in them the remains of many races.

 

FLASH

 

Again in his cradle, Terrorgrim could see his parents embracing, crying, Drow Mother, but a Human Father.

 

FLASH

 

Again in his cradle, but no longer warm, no longer safe. Terrorgrim could hear himself crying, he could see the Black Rose guards ruthlessly cutting his mother down, he looked up, he could see his father hanging from a noose, naked and beaten.

 

FLASH

 

Terrorgrim could see the Black Rose hall, surrounded by gold leaf and rich tapestries, Terrorgrim could see Seladain Dam’escinous sat upon his throne, a King in his own little kingdom. Terrorgrim was in a cage, amusement for the aristocracy, made to live with the wild dogs.

 

FLASH

 

Chaos, fire, Elves and Drow fighting. Bodies strewn over the floor, blood spilled like rain. The Cage is toppled, in the confusion Terrorgrim runs, naked and alone into the darkness.

 

FLASH

 

Back in the room, where his friends, Jezebelle and Durghan wait for him.

 

“Well Terrorgrim?” Jez looked into his deep, purple eye’s anxiously.

 

“I, I know who I am Jez.” Terrorgrim could feel the tears welling, but he could do nothing to stop them from streaming down his face. He sat there, in total shock of what he’d seen, what he’d remembered. His past, his bloodline, his fate.

 

* * * * *

 

Jezebelle found Terrorgrim later that night sitting at Beam, a small area on Isla Prima, where folks gathered around an open fire and spoke, told of tales from yesteryear, traded stories and fables. Oh what a fable I would have for them, Terrorgrim thought, if only I had the will left to speak!

 

“Grimm?” Terrorgrim, ripped from his thoughts turned to see Jezebelle standing beside him,she sat and looked him in the eye once again, and for the first time she saw in them a true darkness.

 

“Grimm, I don’t know what you saw. And I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to see, really I am. There was no way of knowing-“

 

“It’s ok Jez,” he replied, “I wanted to know, I needed to know. And now I do.”

 

“Grimm, you’re half Drow aren’t you?” She asked. She knew the answer already, she’d always known, the purple eyes, the birthmark, the almost natural affinity he seemed to have to learning alchemy. The signs had all been there.

 

“I am, my lady, half darkness and half light, I suppose that’s why they named me Terrorgrim.” He met her gaze for the first time since his flashbacks, he tried his hardest not to show her his new pain, his dark hatred. Inside he felt a conflict, a conflict against himself, the human half fighting to be human, the darker, Drow half fighting to be something else.

 

“We leave at first light Terrorgrim, we must make it to the Orvale Mountains before the sun rises in two days. Come with us, we can help you. Don’t give in to your memories, learn from them, you’re half human, half Drow, accept that, accept it and you find yourself.”

 

“I have accepted it my lady, I have to, I’ve survived this long and I must continue to do so. As for coming with you....of course I will, where else did you think I’d go?” Terrorgrim smiled and instantly it lifted the mood. It was the first time he’d smiled since they’d first met. He knew who he was yes, and he could feel the darkness, but around it, like a heavenly barrier he could also feel the light.

 

What he’d grow into, he didn’t know, being only a young man he had a long journey ahead of him yet, time and years to figure it out. For now he knew where he belonged, alongside the guild that had taken him in, Witches & Wiccans. Oh what lay ahead? The mind boggled, but again, only time would tell…..

 

Part 2 to follow.......

 

Edited April 1, 2007 by Terrorgrim

[Terrorgrim]

If anyone would like their character, or their guild to appear in the story, please just follow the simple questions below and pm me in forum with the info.

 

Character

 

Name:

 

Sex:

 

Age:

 

Belongs to (guild):

 

Brief description of personality:

 

Appearance:

 

Fav Skills:

 

Most Commonly found in:

 

 

Guilds

 

 

Guild name:

 

Cheif Members:

 

Brief history of the Guild:

 

Guild stands for (morals, aims):

 

Most commonly found in:

 

Fav skills:

 

 

Characters and guilds will be treated with the utmost respect and I will not deviate from the descriptions and info given.

 

Thanks

[Roja]

Terrorgrim this is a great story! Very nicely written and interesting to read. Please write more, and you're welcome to pick one of the official stories to write as well from the story list(just follow all directions listed).

[foncEmerlin]

brother your writing skills are excellant and I can not wait to see the rest of this grand story

[Terrorgrim]

Ok last chance to get into part II. I will be starting it in a few hours time and I'd like some volunteers to feature in either large or small parts. Mainly in the first few paragraphs during the impending 'meeting' scene. I won't reveal details atm coz it has to be ironed out but if you want inclusion please post!

 

Thanks

 

[Acelon]

Well if you need someone...

 

Character

 

Name: Acelon

 

Sex: Male

 

Age: (ingame I guess like 112, out of game, 19 )

 

Belongs to (guild): Let's say GDC (the grand dragon council)

 

Brief description of personality: Creative, spontaneous, sarcastic

 

Appearance: Draegoni, Green Scales, Shortest hair possible,black hair, gray shirt, black pants/boots. Gray cape

 

Fav Skills: Summoning

 

Most Commonly found in: Palon Vertas, South Redmoon, Willowvine, IotF

Edited February 26, 2007 by Acelon

[Scorpius]

Name: Scorpius

 

Sex: Male

 

Ingame Age: 90 (yeh im a young lil rebel ^^)

 

Belongs to: =hc=

 

Brief description of personality: nice, mature but a ticking time bomb in his temper

 

Appearence: Dragoni, red scales and horns (duh!), long black hair, black goatie, black shirt and pants but

you dont see em cuz i always wear armor

 

Fav Skills: Fighting (ya not much training, just fighting.. i like the competitions)

 

Most Commonly found in: Votd, NC, Melinis, SKF and around some pk maps from time to time ^^

 

 

Now im curious how you will implement that...

[foncEmerlin]

Well bro you know me so write me as only you can

and btw I am ageless magic has that affect on one

[Terrorgrim]

Here it is folks, part II, a little long but bare with it if you can. Thanks!

 

 

 

Terrorgrim

 

II

 

 

Terrorgrim awoke to find dogs licking at his toes. Judging by the soft, warm tenderness they were now showing him, he knew they meant him no harm. Slowly he began to sit up, and the dogs backed off, equally as unsure of him as he was of them. It was only then that he noticed the bars, his vision now clear; he could see that he was in a cage.

 

It didn’t take long for Terrorgrim to notice something else about his predicament, the laughter; he looked around, beyond the bars to see a grand hall. All around him was rich, oak furniture, gilded mirrors, and rich, colourful tapestries and frescos, created by artists long since dead.

 

He looked in the direction of the laughter, it came from the far end of the room, where there was situated a grand, solid gold throne.

On the throne sat the head of the house, the Guild Leader, Seladain Dam’escinous. He was surrounded by several other Drow, probably family, one or two of them were clearly marked. He could see it on their faces, the birthmark, the Black Rose.

 

“Our guest is has awoken father.” Said one

 

“It seems that the half breed fits in well with the dogs!” Said another.

 

To this, Seladain stood, and walked, slowly and ever so surely towards the cage; his long, snow-white hair moving gently through the air like serpents, gently licking at the youthful and jagged features of his blue skinned face. His black cloak sailed through the air behind him and Terrorgrim could hear the metallic scrapes of his dragon plate armour as he walked. He stopped in front of the cage and knelt, his attention focused squarely on the young boy in front of him. At this point, Terrorgrim turned and noticed the dogs had all moved away, cowering in the corner.

 

“Look at me freak!” Seladain spat at his newest pet.

 

Instantly, the scared little boy turned to meet Seladain’s nightmarish gaze. He wanted to shout, tell him to leave him alone, but he’d never learned to speak.

 

“The only reason you’re here, is for my amusement, but for that you should be thankful. I’ve fed you, and given you a home all these years in my prison, now it’s time for you to give me something back!”

 

Terrorgrim tried to reply, mumbling noises, trying to make words, but by this time Seladain was bored. Slowly, he raised his hand to the cage, his closed palm meeting Terrorgrim’s face.

Then, without warning, he opened it. Following a small crackle, a bolt of electricity shot out from the Drow ‘King’s’ palm, hitting Terrorgrim in the forehead and sending him into a violent spasm on the floor of the cage.

 

Laughter again, Seladain stood and slowly made his way back to his throne, there he pivoted, and slumped straight back into his seat.

 

“You’re mine boy!” he shouted across the room, “for as long as I seen fit. My pet, fit to live with the dogs!” He laughed, and Terrorgrim writhed in agony.

 

Terrorgrim awoke in a dark cabin, laying in a puddle of sweat, panting heavily at the vivid images he’d just witnessed. Not for the first time that night, he felt a darkness flooding over him, and he fought to keep it at bay. After lighting the gas lamp by his bedside, Terrorgrim put on a robe and made for the door, fresh air, that was all he needed.

 

*****

 

 

The sea is so peaceful at night, Jezebelle thought to herself. She’d been standing at the bow of the ship for some time, silently watching their journey towards Lakeside Port, and the land of White Stone. The touch of the breeze, gently flowing through her blonde hair gave her comfort, and at this moment in time she needed comfort more than ever. It was at that moment she felt something else, a presence, she turned; standing there was Terrorgrim.

 

“Grimm? Couldn’t sleep?” She turned once again to the ocean, and Terrorgrim joined her at the railings.

 

“No, couldn’t settle.” They stood there silently for a moment, the two of them just watching the gentle waves, the faint sound of dolphin call in the distance.

 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it Grimm?” Jezebelle said, still revelling in the touch of the gentle breeze. “Our world, Draia, both beautiful and cursed.”

 

“Cursed? How could a land this fantastic be cursed?”

 

“Very easily Grimm, we are all cursed, even you,” she turned to face him, “we are all cursed to walk this land, without death. The curse of Mortos keeps us here, we die, and we are reborn.”

 

“Eternal life? How can that be a curse, surely it’s a gift?” Terrorgrim spotted the look of sorrow on Jezebelle’s face, he found it strange, to see her like this.

 

“Oh Grimm, have you ever died before?” A strange question, he thought, have you ever died before? He found so many things wrong with that sentence.

 

“Not that I can remember my lady.” He replied.

 

“I’ve died 25 times, at least. My first death, I was mauled by a gargoyle. It was agony Grimm, my blood soaking into the earth. The feeling of….of helplessness, of suffocation. That was one death, just one out of 25 or more. That is the curse of Mortos, Grimm. eternal life, and eternal pain.” A tear rolled down her cheek as she spoke, Terrorgrim wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t bring himself to through sheer amazement at what he’d been told.

 

“There’s more. It’s not just us Grimm, every race of Draia is equally cursed, human, elves, dwarves; even gargoyles, orcs and goblins. All are born, but none ever die. It’s been like that now for hundreds of years, for as long as anyone can remember. That is why we are travelling to the Orvale Mountains. Orcs and Goblins are multiplying at an alarming rate, and there’s just nothing we can do about it!”

 

“I, I don’t know what to say Jez.” Terrorgrim was truly lost for words.

 

“There’s nothing you can say my friend, what will be, will be.” With that, the companions fell silent, there they stood, silently once again watching the beautiful ocean under the clear, moonlit sky.

 

****

 

“Terrorgrim, come on boy wake up!”

 

Terrorgrim opened his eyes to find a stout, bearded Dwarf standing by his bedside, his name was Durghan, another he’d befriended in Isla Prima.

 

“Come on, we’re in port, put this on, you need to look presentable.” Durghan tossed a full set of augmented leather armour onto the bed, greaves, pants and all, demonstrating quite clearly to Terrorgrim that size can be deceiving. Following the armour, came a full length, brown cape, and iron longsword in sheath.

 

“And hurry up, the horses are waiting, come on boy!”

 

“Sorry Durghan I’ll be with you in- did you say horses?”

 

 

The stallion was the most beautiful, most majestic creature Terrorgrim had ever seen. Jet Black and as swift as the wind. The three friends quickly made their way from Lakeside Village and into Tirnwood Forest.

 

“WE HAVE MAYBE HALF A DAYS RIDE AHEAD OF US AT THIS SPEED!” Durghan shouted over the sound of the gallop. “CAREFUL OF BAG JUMPERS, THIS FOREST IS RIFE WITH THEM!”

 

“BAG JUMPERS?” Terrorgrim turned and asked Jezebelle.

 

“THIEVES GRIMM!” She replied.

 

The view was spectacular, trees as tall as giants, and as ageless as the gods. The patches of lupines, lilacs and tulips coloured the grassy rug beneath the hooves of the horses with an unparalleled natural beauty; in the distance, a huge mountain range, and carved into the very mountainside, a large hall.

The hall itself was beautiful, and massive. To be seen from such a distance, Terrorgrim thought, it must have been built by the gods themselves.

Built of solid rock, and lined with oak, it showed the architecture of aeons, so many styles in just the one face of the building. Put simply, it took Terrorgrim’s breath away.

 

The Orvale Mountains, Terrorgrim thought, here is where I prove my worth.

 

*****

 

The hall was filled with the most colourful array of characters that Draia could muster. The whole of the Witches & Wiccans guild were present, along with representatives from other guilds also. Some had travelled from as far as Glacmor, the southern most tip of the second continent, Irilion to be here.

 

It doesn’t matter how many warriors and mage’s are thrown at this thing, Darkhawk thought to himself, it won’t make any difference.

 

Darkhawk, of the Witches & Wiccans guild, stood in the very back corner of the hall, leaning oh-so casually against the wall, he watched the many warriors and mages as they talked among themselves; trying to make hope out of something hopeless, he thought. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he lit his fourth cigar of the afternoon.

 

His attention was caught when the door opened once again, walking in and stopping to gauge the crowd were Jezebelle and Durghan, and another, unknown attendee. He looked the newcomer up and down suspiciously, the way he stood closely behind Durghan and Jezebelle, uncomfortably shifting around on the spot. Long, dark red hair, striking purple eyes and an unusual complexion. The one thing Darkhawk did notice however, is how comfortable and fitted the leather armour he wore actually looked, as if he was born to be a warrior.

 

Great, he thought, another damn stray!

 

Terrorgrim looked around nervously as he stood in the doorway. The hall itself was massive, huge, marble pillars spiralling up into the ceiling, large, gothic arched windows carved into the walls and covered over in stained glass. So many people, so many warriors all in one place. He looked to his right, in the far corner of the hall he saw a man looking directly at them. Long brown hair and bearded, the man’s armour smart, but slightly battle-worn over years of use, he carried with him a large battle axe. Their gazes met, and the man stopped slouching against the wall, dropped his cigar and stamped it out, and then walked over the greet them.

 

“Darkhawk!” Jezebelle said with glee, “it’s been a long time!” They greeted one another with a warm embrace.

 

“My queen, it’s been too long. You look well, Aluwen has been kind to you.” He smiled at the sight of her, her very aura emanated a purity that his life sadly lacked more often than not.

 

“And Durghan, I would say the same of you friend, had you not grown that beer gut!” He said with mock sincerity.

 

“Ah hush your flappin' lad, I want you to meet someone.” Durghan prompted Terrorgrim to stand forward. “This is Terrorgrim, our new found stray, haha! And Terrorgrim, meet Darkhawk, guild member, and proud warrior.”

 

Terrorgrim met Darkhawk’s stern gaze, he saw in it a tired wisdom, and the kind of resilience only a warrior could have.

 

“Terrorgrim, a pleasure. I must say, your eyes are rather striking. Purple? Unusual for a human?”

 

“Who said anything about being human,” Terrorgrim replied with a grin.

 

“Ok boys, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Jezebelle began with a grin, “I’ve got my audience to tend to.” Jezebelle walked through the crowds and to the stage at the front of the hall. On the stage waiting for her were two more people, both seemed strange to Terrorgrim, with almost serpent-like traits. One was green scaled around the ‘ears’, with short black hair and a grey cape. A polished, silver armour, with dragon detail adorned his body, the other ‘person’, very similar with the exceptions of the white hair, blue scales and carrying a staff.

 

“Draegoni,” Darkhawk whispered to Terrorgrim.

 

“I’m sorry?” Terrorgrim asked him.

 

“Those people, with Jezebelle on stage, they are Draegoni, a race described by many as half human, and half dragon. They are fierce warriors, with a fierce temper to match, not to mention quite an aptitude for magic.”

 

It was then that a fourth walked through the crowds, and up to the stage. Instantly, Terrorgrim’s mood changed from one of curiosity and wonder, to one of anger, hatred. The fourth on stage was unmistakeably a Drow. Dark blue skin, elven ears, long white hair and purple eyes.

 

“That one’s a-“

 

“I know what he is Darkhawk!” Terrorgrim snapped in temper. Darkhawk fell silent, astounded, he saw now the change in the newcomer, the look of rage in his deep purple eyes.

 

Purple, like the Drow, he thought, there is more to this man than I first thought.

 

“Quiet please!” Jezebelle commanded, “quieten down!”

 

Within seconds the crowd fell silent, all attention now focused on the stage, and the four figures standing there.

 

“Thank you all for coming at such short notice,” she continued, “I know some of you have travelled a great distance to be here so we’ll try and make it worth your while. We have here represtentation from four of the great guilds, some of the oldest in Draia. Sistema Silverwish, from the Brotherhood of Bane,” the blue scaled Draegoni took a graceful bow.

 

“Acelon, of the Grand Dragon Council,” the green scaled Draegoni followed suit by saluting, “Deframai, of the White Rose guild,” the Drow took a bow, Terrorgrim clenched his fist, trying to keep control, “and me, Jezebelle, of the Witches & Wiccans guild.”

 

“We all know why we’re here ladies and gents,” Acelon continued for her, “the curse of Mortos, and the problems it’s now causing us.”

 

“We all know about the problems,” Durghan piped up from beside Terrorgrim, “we’re all cursed with this damn immortality!”

 

From some in the hall there was a muttering, from Acelon and the others on the stage, no reaction.

 

“Two words,” Durghan continued, “Orcs and Goblins!”

 

“Exactly,” Acelon continued, “but they’re more than a problem now, they've become an epidemic!”

 

The crowd again fell silent. All attention focused on the stage.

 

“Deframai, please.” Acelon stood aside to make way for the Drow to take centre stage, all the while Jezebelle and Sistema sat at the back of the stage, listening keenly, and assessing the mood of the crowd.

 

“Where to begin?” Deframai began, “our lands are being stripped. Five hundred years our house has lived above ground, leaving the darkness for the light, only to be exposed to the darkness once again by this curse.” He looked around, looking for reactions, at the back of the room, he spotted the fierce looking red-head, with piercing purple eyes staring right back at him.

 

“Slowly we are being driven back into hiding, our farms are being destroyed, our livestock killed, and killed again! The orcs and goblins are multiplying, people, multiplying much faster than any other race and we’re nearly at breaking point!”

 

“This is getting us nowhere!” Came a shout from the front of the crowd.

 

Terrorgrim’s attention was diverted for the first time since the Drow had taken the stage, to a Draegoni at the front of the crowd, taller than most of the other Draegoni in the room, with fierce red scales and a neatly pointed black goatee. His long black hair resting on the massive longsword on his back.

 

“Scorpius, please,” Deframai began, “tempers will not get us anywhere.”

 

“And neither will talking Deframai,” Scorpius argued, “we all know these things, we’ve lived with them for generations. The curse of Mortos affects us all and what’s your solution? TO TALK! Are you planning on boring the beasts of this world to death or what?”

 

Deframai met his gaze, but found himself speechless.

 

“Tarsenguard is almost lost, the once great land, home of Draia’s first magic school. The Morcaven Marshes have the beginnings of a goblin village! The sheer audacity! What’s next? Goblin Towns? Orc Cities, with people in chains, kept as pets? It will not end until the curse is lifted!” Scorpius’s voice rang loud through the hollow sounding hall, “and no amount of talking is going to do that!”

 

With that Scorpius turned and made for the door, people jumping to get out of his way as he walked. He stopped at the door, at Darkhawk’s side.

 

“I’m sorry old friend, but if talking is the action this council is taking, then I have no place being here!”

 

Before he’d had a chance to continue out of the room, the deafening sound of a bell ringing began, and once again, everyone’s attention was pricked.

 

“It’s the alarm!” Jezebelle leapt to her feet.

 

“Darkhawk, Durghan, what-?” Terrorgrim began to ask, but before he could finish his sentence, all was answered. For out of the window, he could see, clear as day, Goblins.

 

*****

 

Dozens of Goblins swarmed up the sides of the Orvale mountains, to the very top windows of the hall carved in the rock face. The sound of bells rang through the air, that is, until those who rang the bells were overcome and slaughtered. All the while, inside the hall, was panic.

 

“Barricade the doors!” One shouted.

 

“No chance!” Shouted another, “we go out and face them!”

 

Before anyone had a chance to respond to either comment, the goblins had smashed through the windows. Into battle the crowds were thrust, whether they liked it or not.

 

“TERRORGRIM!” Darkhawk shouted, “YOU HAVE A SWORD THERE RIGHT?!”

 

“I HAVE!”

 

“THEN USE IT!” Darkhawk was gone, swinging his battle axe at the nearest Goblin, somewhere in the crowds and confusion.

 

Terrorgrim drew his sword, and after a seconds uncertainty, threw himself into the midst of it. He could barely think, barely breath as he struggled through the hoards. Immortal or not, he did not want the painful experience of death, only to have to go through it again in time to come. A goblin jumped from the beams of the roof, to land on his back, taking Terrorgrim by surprise, it nearly toppled him through sheer weight. And suddenly, the weight was lifted, Terrorgrim turned, to see the one they called Scorpius, stood there, longsword in hand and dripping with blood.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, “are you fit?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Then fight will you!” With that Scorpius was gone again.

 

In the distance, Terrorgrim heard a familiar voice cry out, it was Jezebelle’s. He looked towards the stage to see her surrounded, surrounded but not helpless. There she stood with naught but her bare hands, but the Goblins would not go closer, then he saw why. From the palm of her hands came a glow, warm and fiery, until flames themselves ignited in her palms. There she stood, this innocent looking, petite woman, literally throwing balls of fire at her assailants. Even so, Terrorgrim felt compelled to help.

 

Slashing his way through the Goblins, taking the odd flesh wound and bruise along the way, Terrorgrim began to make his way to the stage. He was nearly there, when he stopped, awestruck. In front of him, on the floor, the beaten and broken body of a young elf lay twitching. Then without warning, it moved. One leg, already dislocated, twisted itself the wrong way, swung violently, the bone popping back into it’s socket. Then and arm, then another, until the body itself rose to it’s feet, the hands, grabbing hold of the head, giving it a violent twist, cracking noises, then blinking. The Elf looked at Terrorgrim, and spoke.

 

“Mortos may have cursed me, but Aluwen will save me!” With that, the young elf was back in the midst of battle.

 

It hadn’t been till then that Terrorgrim has realised the sheer effect of the curse, all around him bodies were rising, human, elf, Draegoni, orc. This battle was endless, unless the beasts could be forced back into hiding.

 

Onwards Terrorgrim continued, to the stage, where he now found a beaten and bloodied Drow, laying on the wooden floor at his feet, beaten, but not yet dead.

 

He stood there, looking remorseless at Deframai, he could feel the very flame in the pit of his stomach growing, consuming him from the inside out. Without even thinking, he raised his sword.

 

“DAMN YOU DROW, DAMN YOU AND ALL OF YOUR KIND!” He swung his sword high into the air, and brought it down towards the helpless being at his feet-

 

-only for it to be met with yet more steel. Terrorgrim came out of a haze, to see Darkhawk’s battleaxe blocking his sword, protecting his Drow target.

 

“What the hell are you doin bud?” Asked the warrior.

 

“This Drow is filth!” Terrorgrim spat, “one way or another, he is going to die!”

 

Again Terrorgrim swung his sword up, ready for the kill. Darkhawk sighed.

 

“Not if I have anything to do with it!” Without hesitation, Darkhawk swung the handle of his axe, hitting Terrorgrim squarely in the head with it. Terrorgrim cried out in twisted anger, cursing at everyone and everything, then there was darkness, sweet and comforting darkness.

 

*****

 

When Terrorgrim came to, he was laying in the gardens at the foot of the mountains, he blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the bright, piercing sunshine. It was only then he noticed Darkhawk sat beside him, chewing on a cigar.

 

“Where are the goblins?” Terrorgrim asked.

 

“We drove them back boy, like we always do,” Darkhawk answered, still chewing on his cigar.

 

“What- what happened?” He sat up, head banging, and slowly, he began to remember. The way he’d changed, how twisted he’d become.

 

“You telling me you don’t remember boy?” Darkhawk looked at him, disgusted.

 

“No Darkhawk, I remember.”

 

“Then do you mind telling me what the f**k that was in there?”

 

“I-I don’t-" Terrorgrim began.

 

“And I want the truth boy, because I’m so close to cutting your miserable throat myself! And when you come back, I’ll do it again!” Darkhawk stood, angrily he began to pace, and eventually settled on leaning against a wall.

 

“I don’t know.” Terrorgrim replied.

 

“Bull!” Darkhawk replied, “I’ve spoken to Jez, and Durg, they both told me about you. Half breed!”

 

Terrorgrim leapt up, swiftly lunging at Darkhawk in anger, he grabbed at his throat, Darkhawk pivoted, grabbing Terrorgrim’s hand and twisting his arm behind his back, forcing him face-first into the wall, holding him there.

 

“Alright then!” Terrorgrim spat, “I hate the Drow! I hate them for what they did to my parents, and I hate them for what they did to ME!”

 

With that Darkhawk let go, and Terrorgrim fell to the floor, a sobbing heap.

 

“I was a baby when they killed my parents, they cut my mother down, and beat my father to death, before hanging him from the ceiling above my cradle for gods sake!”

 

Darkhawk sat down beside him, speechless, and no longer interested in his cigar.

 

“The Black Rose guild, they imprisoned me, a freak. That was before keeping me as amusement, a sideshow, living with the dogs in the great halls of Seladain’s palace. Every night I’m haunted by the memory, by the b*stards face! I hate him, and I hate them all!” Terrorgrim fell silent, thinking about what he just said, did he really hate them all? Had he grown that bitter? That evil?

 

“Terrorgrim,” Darkhawk began, “have you ever heard of the war of the roses?”

 

“No,” he replied.

 

“Deframai’s house, the White Rose Guild, are mortal enemies of the Black Rose Guild, the house of your tormentor. For generations there have fought. And do you know why?”

 

“No, I don’t Darkhawk.”

 

“Because they are like polar opposites, the White Rose Guild hate everything that the Black Rose Guild stand for, they are disgusted by them, and ashamed to call then Drow. Put another way, you just tried to kill one of the very men who would be willing to help you obtain revenge.”

 

“I don’t need help, I’ll find them.” Terrorgrim stood, turning his back on Darkhawk.

 

“Oh really boy?” Darkhawk followed suit, walking up behind Terrorgrim, he leant in to whisper. “And how are you going to get your revenge boy, you can’t fight and you don’t know magic. Hunting rabbits, and hunting Drow, two completely different things!”

 

Terrorgrim turned to face him, no more a look of anger on his face, more a look of desperation.

 

“I’ll help you boy, we all will. I’ll teach you to fight, I’ll teach you to wield magic. And then I’ll go with you to their halls, and help you get your revenge.”

 

“Why would you help me? I tried to kill you friend.”

 

“Because with or without me, you’ll go, and you’re definitely better off with.” Darkhawk grinned, putting his arm around Terrorgrim’s shoulders, he began to lead him back inside.

 

“Trust me, when we’re through, it will be Seladain, not you, who's haunted by nightmares!”

 

To be continued…..

[detrak]

Wow man, you really should write a book. Keep up the great work!

 

Detrak

[foncEmerlin]

Grim brother your tale is well astounding it blew me away I can't wait to see where this leads us.

[Terrorgrim]

Thanks, I'm coming up with ideas for where this takes us all the time lol. Not quite sure which one I'll take yet but there's sure to be a few more twists n turns. Keep an eye out for some of the cameo's in part II tho, they're sure to return in part III!

 

p.s- any feeback is appreciated folks, I'm open to comments and criticisms

Edited February 27, 2007 by Terrorgrim

[Lyanna]

No time to do a detailed analysis, but very well done. Probably the best character-driven story I've read so far since the new Storylines Procedures were initiated. Do take time to proofread your work before submitting, though. There are some punctuation and grammatical errors which could be ironed out, as well as word usage problems ("the feint sounds of humanity" ). Also like your ability and daring in writing in other people's characters into your story. It's not every day you find someone who can (1) be willing to take on such a challenge and (2) pull it off successfully.

 

-Lyn-

[scullsyk]

hope you dont mind involving me

 

 

Character: Elf

 

Name: Scullsyk

 

Sex: Male

 

Age: 82 (still young)

 

Belongs to (guild): Bard

 

Brief description of personality: Friendly, stoic, but get me mad and i pounce like a tiger

 

Appearance: Long brown hair in ponytail, full aug w/ leather boots, and always has my ti long and wood staff with me.

 

Fav Skills: magic, fighting, and pretty much everything else

 

Most Commonly found in: VOTD, WS, and sometimes idaloran

[Terrorgrim]

No time to do a detailed analysis, but very well done. Probably the best character-driven story I've read so far since the new Storylines Procedures were initiated. Do take time to proofread your work before submitting, though. There are some punctuation and grammatical errors which could be ironed out, as well as word usage problems ("the feint sounds of humanity" ). Also like your ability and daring in writing in other people's characters into your story. It's not every day you find someone who can (1) be willing to take on such a challenge and (2) pull it off successfully.

 

-Lyn-

 

Thanks for the advice, it's great to hear that there are people enjoying my work. And more advice you may have please feel free to share. And now I've finished my other tale, part III should be on it's way shortly!

[Terrorgrim]

Note to readers: All characters used in the writing of this story have given their express persmission to do so. Either on Forum or in Game. I have done my utmost to treat these characters with respect and use them responsibly in writing this story. - Oh and thanks to all who have been a part of this tale!

 

Part III below, the final part will follow shortly! Happy reading!

 

Terrorgrim III

 

Terrorgrim moved silently through the Forest of the Fall. It was night time, and the only light to save him from suffocating in the darkness was that of the stars. Terrorgrim grinned, the light of the stars was all a half-breed like him needed to move on unaided. His purple, half Drow eyes scanned the dead forest in front of him, there was no other sign of life to be seen.

 

His ears pricked as he heard the faint and distant sound of a broken twig, and he knew his quarry approached. His grip on his staff tightened, his knuckles turning a pale white under the pressure.

 

Without warning, Terrorgrim’s mark struck, the butt of Darkhawk’s staff hitting the back of his head full force. Terrorgrim rolled and pivoted with the blow, standing to face his attacker; ranger, warrior and now also mentor, Darkhawk.

 

“Still too slow boy, obviously you squander your heightened senses on the lesser things in life!” Darkhawk ran towards Terrorgrim as he mocked, not holding back he speared Terrorgrim squarely with the staff in the gut, taking with him any clear senses Terrorgrim had left.

 

This angered the trainee, shaking off most of the pain he now felt, Terrorgrim again stood, and without warning he pivoted, delivering a blow to Darkhawk’s forehead as he spun. This sent the master backwards into an uncontrolled roll, and sent the apprentice into fits of laughter.

 

“My senses are obviously keener than you thought old man!” The young half-Drow mocked. “Keen enough at least, to topple you.”

 

Darkhawk picked himself up, a look of frustration and anger on his face, he stared for moment, before joining his friend in uncontrollable laughter.

 

Later that night, they sat, still in the dead Forest, around a fire. For what seemed to Terrorgrim like an eternity, they sat there in silence. Watching the almost magical dancing of the flames, sucked in by its warm; almost tribal purity.

 

“Darkhawk,” Terrorgrim began, at last breaking the silence.

 

“What is it Grim?”

 

“Tell me more about the guilds, about what you mentioned before; The War of the Roses?”

 

His mentor sighed as he continued to stare into the flame. After a short time he took a cigar out from his bag, lit it, and turned to face Terrorgrim.

 

“The guilds themselves Grim, are quite straightforward. They are clans, houses. Some as old as this forest we sit in now. Others are made up of like minded souls, bound together by some code or mission. You will find many in these lands, and with the exception of the odd rivalry, most live in peace with one another.” Darkhawk chewed on his cigar for a moment, pondering how to continue this lesson.

 

“What of your guild, Witches and Wiccans?” Terrorgrim asked, trying once again to break the silence that had fallen.

 

“Witches and Wiccans? Oh lad they are not truly my guild, not in my heart. Make no mistake, their honour, and valour, serve them and their allies well. And I gladly serve among their numbers, but only for the moment, until all is ready.”

 

“How do you mean Darkhawk?”

 

“Grim, you are still young. I am old. My soul, is even older. This is my second life on this world, having travelled once under a name long since past. There are wonders in this world my boy, wonders as far as the eye can see. From the smallest gem, to the fiercest Orc or the oldest castle. In this life I have been but a wanderer, I travel and I learn, offering my services as I go. Until such time as my soul feels again at home. I know that time is soon, already I’ve found one of a like mind.” Darkhawk smiled, instantly relieving the mood, and Terrorgrim took warmth in the knowledge that it was him his mentor was referring to.

 

“As for the War of the Roses,” Darkhawk continued, “that tale is far older than me, or my soul.” He stood, extinguishing his cigar under foot as he did so, “and it’s not for now I think. Come on, time to go home.”

 

*****

 

“You cannot continue with this Darkhawk! I forbid it!” Jezebelle shouted. Her voice echoed through the hall of the Orvale Mountains, and was clearly audible to all that still remained there, including Terrorgrim. Stealthily, he sidled towards the closed door, hoping to hear clearer what was being spoken about him and his fate.

 

“I’m sorry my lady, but I cannot let him go to his death, albeit temporary.” Darkhawk was pacing the room. On returning to the hall, Jezebelle had been waiting. She wasn’t happy with the path Terrorgrim was taking, knowing it would only lead to agony, she was desperate to put a stop to it.

 

“Darkhawk please, revenge is not the way, it is never the way. Terrorgrim must learn that. I tell you no good will come of his quest.”

 

“Jezebelle, do you not understand? His parents were killed, in front of his eyes they were slaughtered at the hands of Seladain's men. Terrorgrim himself was kept prisoner, made to live on the floor with the dogs! Nothing anyone says to him now will dissuade him from what he intends to do!” Darkhawk stopped pacing, choosing now to sit awkwardly on the stage of the hall facing the mistress of the Witches and Warlocks guild.

 

“There is enough war wrought in this world by the beasts of Mortos! We need unity, not another guild war!”

 

“Jez, Guild War is upon us, whether you like it or not” Darkhawk’s mood now changed from one of frustration, to one of foreboding.

 

“Look around, you’ll see The Black Rose’s hand in many dark matters. Their numbers multiply, and no longer just Drow. Orc. And Goblin. They come in the night, burning children in the houses where they sleep. No longer can the actions of Mortos and The Black Rose be accounted for separately and you know that. King Seladain and his house now serve Mortos. And as you know, there is no greater evil.”

 

Terrorgrim could listen no more. Opening the doors to the great hall, he marched in to demand that the matter be settled. What he found, was an emotionally crushed Jezebelle, and a look of despair on the face of Darkhawk. Suddenly, he lost all will to speak.

 

“Jezebelle, as I said my lady. War is upon us, how can Witches and Wiccans not stand with their comrades? The meeting? Was it all for nothing?”

 

“I will not lead my people to death, or death again come to think of it. I will not lead us to war.” She glanced sideways at Terrorgrim, and the look of confusion on his face. Then she met Darkhawk’s gaze, and it was unmoving.

 

“If Witches and Wiccans will not stand side by side with their comrades, then I’m afraid my time here is finished my lady. I take my leave” Darkhawk began to head for the door, and Terrorgrim followed.

 

“Darkhawk!” Jezebelle cried after him, “Do not aid him in his revenge, I beg you.”

 

“Vengeance is a path both lonely and isolated enough, my lady. What this young man needs now is the support of his friends so he may come out unscathed by the deed.” With that, master and apprentice both left the hall for the last time.

 

*****

 

After settling in Tarsengaard, home to a great city and a great school of magic, Darkhawk continued to train his apprentice. He showed him how to wield a sword, hunt wolves. He even taught him how to manipulate the magical essences of the world to his use. Time passed, and Darkhawk could see his pupil honing his skills. He was nearly ready, save for lessons that Darkhawk could not teach him, for that, they would need the aid of others.

 

“Where are you taking me Darkhawk?” Terrorgrim asked as he followed through the town.

 

Terrorgrim found himself observing the town for the first time. Having been there for two months already he found that to be quite odd. The town itself, consisted of a mixture of white stone and brick. He often wondered what the city was like in it’s golden age, before the floods, at the beginning when the school was newly built and before the goblins had come. Terrorgrim knew why Darkhawk had picked Tarsengaard, it was a wise choice. The opportunity to fight darkness was everywhere, in the form of the Goblins that now roamed freely in and around the war-torn city.

 

“We’re going to see some old friends of mine.” Came Darkhawk’s reply as he led them to the north east corner of the city, the flooded corner.

 

There still stood in the water the sad, crumbling remains of houses. Monuments to the great history of the land. Sand littered the pavement from sandbags put into position to keep the water at bay. Long had people blamed the floods on the wrath of Mortos, another of his dark deeds. Terrorgrim wondered how much truth there was in that.

 

They stopped at a house as the very edge of the water, and before Darkhawk even had a chance to knock, the heavy oak door opened. Stood in the doorway was a pure vision of innocence.

 

Terrorgrim looked upon the Elf and her beauty in awe; her long, blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze reminded him that even in these dark times, there was still hope.

 

“Come on then you two, you’re not going to stand out here all day I hope.” She grinned.

 

Terrorgrim and Darkhawk entered the house to be greeted by yet another female Elf, although she was clearly different from her companion, the brown haired elf and the blonde haired elf were both alike in the fact that they gave Terrorgrim a reason to smile.

 

The four of them sat cross legged by the open fire, the blonde haired elf taking the lead in starting proceedings.

 

“Hello Terrorgrim,” she began, “my name is Freya.” Terrorgrim looked surprised, not once had he left Darkhawk’s side since they’d been in Tarsengaard, so how did she know his name?

 

“How did you-?”

 

“Don’t looked so shocked, I know a lot of things that would surprise you,” again she smiled, Terrorgrim saw a glint in her eye that spoke of both wisdom and confidence, and his attention grew.

 

“My companion is Jaelle. We’re old friends of your mentor, Darkhawk. And we’ve agreed to help you. But you must be attentive, I will not suffer fools gladly. Remember that.” She stood and left the room.

 

“What am I going to learn here?” Terrorgrim asked, Darkhawk, now grinning at his apprentices surprise was just about to answer his question, when Jaelle spoke.

 

“You’ve learned to fight with sword and staff, you can hunt, and you know how to manipulate the magical essences of this world. But there is more to know. When Darkhawk first came into Draia, all he had was a cloak, his axe and some leather. Now that’ll do for hunting, but for fighting….for fighting a much stronger defence is needed.” Jaelle’s face, Terrorgrim noticed, was totally alive as she spoke. In it he saw a playful, but not quite mocking gaze, she yearned to tell him everything, but she followed her companion's lead and said only what Terrorgrim needed to hear.

 

“Who are you two?” Terrorgrim finally asked.

 

“Simple, we are CATS.” Terrorgrim turned to see Freya stood in the doorway. In her hand she held a bundle of cloth. What is that? Terrorgrim wondered.

 

“Cats?” Terrorgrim asked, doubting he’d heard correctly what she’d just said.

 

“Grim, they’re a very private guild. CATS stands for Companionship and Team Support. They’ve been friends for a long time. They are known for their skills with all varieties of craft.” Terrorgrim looked at Darkhawk’s impressive suit of Steel Plate Armour, it shone as the sunlight from the windows bounced off it. Even beneath the battle scars it carried, Terrorgrim could see the impressive piece of work that it was.

 

Freya joined the circle again, and put the bundle of cloth down in front of her.

 

“You will learn a lot from us Grim, if you let us show you. We can teach you how to forge suits of armour, such as the one Darkhawk wears proudly. I can teach you to forge jewellery, and from it gain great power and skill.” Freya slowly began to unwrap the bundle in front of her. Laying there, in the cloth, was a titanium chain mail shirt. Terrorgrim’s eyes lit up at once.

 

“Trust her Grim, these are skills you will need in the coming war, we can show you it all” the playfulness left Jaelle’s face now, she was deadly serious.

 

Over the next few weeks, they did just that. Jaelle showed Terrorgrim how to forge iron, get it to just the right temperature to mould it to his will, and Freya taught him about gold and silver, and the magical property of gems. Terrorgrim again became the good student, listening attentively to all he was told, and all the while he continued his training with Darkhawk, ready for the day he might take revenge against Seladain.

 

It was three weeks since their arrival at the house, and Terrorgrim now entered the room to an expectant crowd. There he stood in the doorway, shining in the sunlight. The iron plates that covered his body glided smoothly over one another, making him feel safe and protected against all elements and evils. His audience smiled. And Freya and Jaelle felt a great sense of pride in what they’d achieved with him.

 

“It fits perfectly Grim,” Jaelle said as she got up to greet him in the doorway. In her hands was a black cape, she fastened it on him herself.

 

“What is-?”

 

“This is a mirror cloak Grim, it’s magical properties will help to deflect any damage damage take. But be warned it is not foolproof” Jaelle sat back down, it was Freya now who got up.

 

“Impressive Grim, you scrub up rather well in a suit of armour,” she said with a smirk, “take these.”

 

Terrorgrim held out his hand, and in them Freya placed the rings they’d made together.

 

“There are many magic rings in this world Grim, use them wisely, for they are not always easy to come by.” Terrorgrim placed them all in his pouch and looked into Freya’s eye’s, waiting for some sign of approval.

 

“Darkhawk, I do believe that your apprentice may be ready, she confirmed.

 

“Not yet he isn’t Freya,” Darkhawk began, “there’s one final test he needs to take. Terrorgrim? What rings do you have there?”

 

“There’s a few," he replied, "rings of Portland, Idaloran, Disengagement, Bethel-"

 

“Use the ring of Bethel lad, I have one here. You have one final test before we face the Black Rose.”

 

Terrorgrim, removing the ring from his pouch once more, looked with curiosity at the it. It amazed him how something so small could wield such power, and how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands.

 

“This isn’t the time for daydreaming lad USE IT!” As Darkhawk barked the order, so Terrorgrim followed it. Putting the ring on, he found himself no longer in the warm, fire-lit room of the house in Tarsengaard. He was in a void, all around he saw naught but grey mists, heard echoes but no sound, saw shadows but no one was there. It was as if he’d travelled to another plane entirely, on the very fabric of existence. The mist cleared, and he found himself stood in Bethel.

 

*****

 

Terrorgrim looked around the place they called Bethel, it was barren indeed. With the exception of a few gipsy trailers and the ruins that he now stood amongst, all he could see before him was sand. The wind blustered and swirled freely around him, blowing sand into his eyes in the process.

 

So far as he knew, this was the first time he'd had ever set foot on the second continent, Irilion. It was definitely the first time he’d ever set foot in Bethel. And if he were honest, he did not like what he saw one bit. The land around him was so desolate, so inhospitable that he wondered how anyone could manage to survive in such surroundings.

 

Darkhawk followed shortly after, appearing as if out of an invisible plain, until he was stood in front of Terrorgrim, as real as the sun, or the mountains.

 

“Why are we here Darkhawk?” He asked his mentor.

 

“There is one final test you must endure, you must prove yourself a warrior now Terrorgrim, the only way to do that is to face another in mortal combat.”

 

“We’ve sparred many a time-“

 

“I wasn’t referring to me lad,” Darkhawk continued, “there lurks at this very moment, in this Desert a proud and fierce warrior. He’s loyal only to himself, he fights without guild, and sometimes seemingly without purpose. Many fear him, and some revere him. What is certain is he is dangerous, if not somewhat twisted in battle.”

 

“Who is he?”

 

“You’ve met him before Grim, back at the Orvale mountains. The guild meeting. He was present then. Even among the Draegoni he stood out, demanding the attentions of all around him.”

 

Terrorgrim cast his mind back to the battle at Orvale, trying to think.

 

“Scorpius,” he said as if in answer to a question unspoken. “I’m to face Scorpius?”

 

“Come Grim, we’re running out of time.” Darkhawk led Terrorgrim through Bethel, to the east, and then north, along the foot of the mountains. They struggled through a fierce sandstorm. Blinded as the sand threw itself furiously at them, covering their faces and scratching their eyes. But still they went on.

 

Eventually they came to a small gauge, a cut in the perfectly formed mountainside. Inside, at the foot of the gauge, Darkhawk found a small lever, concealed to the untrained eye. Clear as day to one as tuned to the land as he. Pulling it, a large door began to grind and struggle to free itself from the mountain. Before perfectly hidden and invisible, now it was plain to see. Darkhawk pushed on it, and with some force, it began to open inwards.

 

Terrorgrim found himself staring into the mountain. What he found was a deep cavern, torch lit. The smell of sulphur escaped in a sudden back draft, Terrorgrim taking the full force on the ensuing scent.

 

“Come on, we go inside Grim.” Darkhawk led him down the cavern. Halfway down, the rough, rocky ground became smooth, shiny black granite.

 

“Not far now boy, keep your wits about you. He will not be forgiving nor understanding of mistakes or lapses of judgement. Make no mistake now, this is a fight to the death,” Darkhawk continued to lead, while Terrorgrim began to scan every corner, every crevice for some sign of life. The only ‘sign’ was the sound of roaring flame up ahead.

 

The sound, came from the large cave that the cavern opened up into. Coming into it now, Terrorgrim was awestruck. In the middle of the black granite flooring, standing in a pit of molten lava, the cause of the sound could be plainly seen. A large, stone Dragon, stood in a fierce battle position, as if ready to pounce on any who trespassed. The stone shone a vibrant red under the light of the lava, flame freely roaring as it escaped from the Dragon's lifeless mouth. The dragon itself was flanked from behind by four stone statues. Monks that stood also in battle stances. All but one. Before Terrorgrim had time to re-evaluate all he had seen, the fourth statue, the Draegoni, moved. Swift as the wind it came at him, drawing it’s Broadsword and smashing the hilt of it squarely into the face of Terrorgrim, sending him backwards into the cavern wall, breaking his nose in the process.

 

The fourth 'statue', Scorpius, had made himself known, now it was time for the Apprentice to prove himself to his master.

 

*****

 

Terrorgrim ducked and pivoted under the broad swing of Scorpius’ sword. Taking a few steps backwards, giving him some space. Drawing his sword, he had just enough time to jump back, avoiding yet another deadly swing from the sword of the Draegoni Warrior.

 

“This is your warrior Darkhawk?" Scorpius shouted, "PATHETIC!” Scorpius again moved to strike, finding his sword for the first time blocked by the Steel longsword Terrorgrim now held. He looked straight into the Halfling's eyes, deep into the purple iris, and beyond into the darkness.

 

“Too ready are you to judge Scorpius” Terrorgrim began, “before even my mentor knows of what deeds I am capable!” Terrorgrim span, pivoting on the ball of his foot, and thrust his sword at Scorpius. To the Draegoni’s surprise, he found himself stepping back, relinquishing ground so as to avoid a deadly blow from Terrorgrim’s blade. Seeing his foe's error, Terrorgrim now took the opportunity. Scanning the cavern once more, he noticed a ledge, and pinnacle with which to give himself the high ground.

 

Scaling the wall at the best speed he could muster, Terrorgrim looked below him. Darkhawk was now nowhere to be seen. Whereas Scorpius could be seen clearly, climbing not the wall below Terrorgrim. But the red-hot stone Dragon in the centre of the Cavern.

 

What madness possesses him? Terrorgrim thought to himself, that he should have no regard whatsoever for life?

 

Dragging himself onto the ledge, Terrorgrim stood and looked across the void towards his opponent. Their eyes met, and each tightened his grip on their weapons.

 

“You could make a warrior yet lad,” Scorpius’ eyes gleamed in the reflection of the pool of molten rock below, “but it shan’t be today! This is a fight to the death, but fear not boy. Your corpse shall be looked after until you return to it!”

 

Now, screaming in roaring anger, Terrorgrim without warning leapt across that empty void between them. And also, without warning, Scorpius readied his sword. Falling through the air, and with nowhere to go, Terrorgrim landed on that sword, piercing his stomach and the armour through the sheer weight of his own body. Choking and trying to keep from crying out, Terrorgrim held the blade, trying desperately to remove it.

 

Scorpius smiled, he looked down at the gaping wound in the stomach of his adversary, watched and the blood trickled delicately down his sword and finally onto the stone. He leaned in, closer, and whispered into Terrorgrim’s ear.

 

“Anger, my boy, it’s our greatest adversary. I have trained it, it does not control me like it does you. That is why I will live and you will die”

 

“Please!” Terrorgrim began, the pain too much to bear.

 

“Ha! Below us you see a pool of molten lava. Hot enough to burn through flesh like a hot knife through butter, how do you think the curse of Mortos will reckon with that?”

 

Terrorgrim knew the answer, and eternity of agony, living and dying, forever burning in that unforgiving pool below. He could not allow it.

 

Without warning. Terrorgrim tightened his grip on the blade, using Scorpius as his spring board, Terrorgrim pushed with his legs, one swift strong movement, the blade withdrew, and Scorpius fell back; over the edge.

 

Hanging there, from the ear of the great stone beast, Scorpius did not cry nor ask for help. He simply held on, helpless and sure to spend eternity in fire and ash. But something happened he did not expect, he looked up to see Terrorgrim bent over him, offering a hand, he took it.

 

“You know boy, this is a fight to the death, and it will go on until one of us is so!” Scorpius cried. Still he was unwilling to yield, holding pride, keeping true to his ideals.

 

“Let me fall Terrorgrim, and you win!”

 

“I will not leave you to burn in an eternity of hell of earth!” And with his last ounce of strength, Terrorgrim swung his arm, and his adversary, free of the lava pool. Through the air Scorpius fell, until the floor came fast below him, and the sound of snapping bones could be heard as he landed.

 

Terrorgrim watched his neck break, he saw him die, and finally he knew he’d passed the test. Now in agony, blood flowing freely, he rolled over and closed his eyes.

 

*****

 

The tavern was alive that night. People singing, dancing, drinking and joking in the confined space of the wagon. Terrorgrim and Darkhawk were no different.

 

Darkhawk had returned to find his apprentice alive, and Scorpius dead. Just as he had hoped he would. Now, after some treating of the wound, Terrorgrim was able to move in relative comfort. For the magical properties a healer possesses are truly great.

 

“You passed Grim, I’m glad” Darkhawk praised.

 

“But not without circumstance. That man is a devil Darkhawk. Relentless.”

 

“And known for it too, in many a battle upon Draia boy,” Darkhawk took a swig from his flagon and lit a cigar, taking a long drawn out puff he continued. “Fair is fair, he takes his fighting very seriously, BUT, he has always fought on the right side.”

 

A gust of wind entered the Tavern as the door swung open, shielding their drinks from the sand now freely entering, the drinkers looked to see a tall and proud Draegoni stood in the doorway, carrying and large holdall.

 

Closing the door, Scorpius made straight for his ‘adversaries’ table and joined them. For a moment he was silent, looking again in the purple eyes of Terrorgrim, before a smile began to show on his lips.

 

“Congratulations master Terrorgrim, you passed,” he lifted his holdall onto the table with a clank and slid it over to the half-drow.

 

“What is this?” Terrorgrim asked.

 

“Your prize my boy.” Scorpius smiled again, and Darkhawk gave a knowing wink, “it occurred to me that I ruined your iron plate armour with that fantastic wound,” Terrorgrim gave him a sideways glance at the remark, Scorpius continued, “I realised that for you to succeed in your mission, a token was in order.”

 

Terrorgrim unfastened the bag and looked inside in astonishment. In it, shining under the pale gas-light, lay steel plate armour, and a steel broadsword. He looked in astonishment at his ‘adversary’ to see him grinning from ear to ear.

 

“I respect a warrior Terrorgrim, you did not think I’d take my death personally? I told you myself it was to the death. That was just training.”

 

With that Scorpius could no longer contain himself and he began to laugh. Only for the laugh to be broken as the door opened once more.

 

Stood in the doorway, dressed in torn and bloodied clothing was a blonde elven man. Not much older in looks than Terrorgrim, and using the doorway as a crutch as he doubled over in agony. Panting heavily, he spoke with one last breath of consciousness.

 

“Darkhawk!” He cried, not knowing which of the revellers carried the name, “I bring a message from an old friend! A message of war!” With that the elf collapsed, and the three companions rushed to his aid.

 

*****

 

Upon waking, the elven man found himself as Terrorgrim once had. Being nursed to health. With Scorpius now gone, he awoke to find Terrorgrim mixing with pestle and mortar, and found Darkhawk sat in a chair at the end of his bed, reading the letter he’d risked his life to deliver.

 

“So Detrak, house of the White Rose, you're awake.” He made his way to Detrak’s bedside, sitting down next to the Elf he smiled.

 

“You know my name?” Detrak asked.

 

“The message, carries much information of you and your plight. We will nurse you to health as best we can, Terrorgrim and I, and then we will join your kinsmen in your war. For my apprentice had much to go to war for. Isn’t that right Terrorgrim?”

 

Terrorgrim looked up from his mixing, and into the eyes of their guest. In them Detrak saw the fire of the Drow, the deep purple of their eyes.

 

“But, you’re human?” Detrak’s words were as much question as they were statement. Terrorgrim stood, turning and lifting his firey red hair, he showed the elf the Black Rose birthmark on his neck.

 

“I am as much human as you are Detrak," Terrorgrim informed him, "I am of the house of the Black Rose, your mortal enemies and servants of Mortos, and I will do all I can to help you see them slain!"

 

And in that moment a promise was made. And Darkhawk and Terrorgrim joined Detrak and his kin in the war of the Roses. And through all, someone watched.

 

For deep in the mountains of Irisis, the Elven City, evil lived. Hidden away, and seeping through the rock as pestilence and decay, infecting all it came across.

 

Waving his blue skinned hand across the scrying pool, the image of Terrorgrim, Detrak and Darkhawk disappeared. The deep red eyes that had been watching, had in them a rage unseen by Drow and Elf for 200 generations or more. For he knew Terrorgrim well, he remembered the boy, the half Drow. It pleased him to see the slave boy join his enemies in the battle ahead, for now he could once again possess that which had slipped through his fingers once before. A deep sigh resounded through the black hall, and in the presence of a host of Orc and Drow, it was one short sentence that would bring death to so many.

 

“It is time then,”

 

To be concluded.......

[Jaelle]

Excellent story Grim. You're one heck of a writer.

 

One thing though, I don't have brown hair ; )

 

Jaelle

[Cyprom]

Character: Orchan

 

Name: Cyprom

 

Sex: Male

 

Age: Mystery

 

Belongs to (guild): BanE

 

Brief description of personality: Nice if I like you, get pissed of easily

 

Appearance: Blue-gray skin, bald with the exception of a dark ponytail with beard extension. Black shirt, blue pants, brown-yellow boots. Bigger than you.

 

Fav Skills: Chatting, crafting

 

Most Commonly found in: VotD, IP, PL

 

Cool? (Y/N): Y

 

-- Cyp

[Terrorgrim]

Thanks for the info Cyprom. For the last part I need to refer to other guilds quite heavily, Bane would fit in well to this. Also a few more if poss to set the tone for the 'skirmish' that'll take place. Any volunteers?

[jowwow]

Character: Human

 

Name: jowwow

 

Sex: male

 

Age: 37

 

Belongs to (guild): Rawr

 

Brief description of personality: witty and charming

 

Appearance: slightly dark skinned with shoulder length reddish brown hair

 

Fav Skills: A/d and potting

 

Most Commonly found in: skf, mm and c2

 

 

Guilds

 

 

Guild name: Rawr

 

Cheif Members: wingalings, albazz

Edited April 10, 2007 by jowwow

[The_Banned_idiot]

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love this story so pls hurry up and make part 4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Edit: yay for 2nd page!!!

 

Name:Dalemoon

 

Sex:Male

 

Age:Unknown to all(mabe known to gossip though )

 

Belongs to (guild):PkG

 

Brief description of personality:Short blonde hair,black top,pants and boots

 

Appearance:Iorn helm,cuisses,greaves,aug pants,titanium/steel aloy long sword,steel sheild,BP cloak

 

Fav Skills:Harvesting cors its easy:blink:

 

Most Commonly found in:Underworld ,VOTD storage,PL

 

 

Guilds

 

 

Guild name:PkG

 

Cheif Members:Quimbly

 

Brief history of the Guild:It was made in a time of...notsureness

 

Guild stands for (morals, aims): do i have to answer that?

 

Most commonly found in:i dont know...

 

Fav skills:Harvesting cors its easy

Edited May 23, 2007 by The_Banned_idiot

[Infamous]

Character: Orchan

 

Name: Hardcore

 

Sex: male

 

Age: 19

 

Belongs to (guild): =Hc=

 

Brief description of personality: Nice and ebul sometimes ^^

 

Appearance: very light brown skin, white mohawk, black shirt, black pants, black boots. (mostly in tit armour though)

 

Fav Skills: A/d and magic

 

Most Commonly found in: Kf, Nc arena, Wsc arena, North Redmoon or Bethel

[The_Banned_idiot]

i want part 4!!! waaaaaaaaaaaa

[Krakas3]

great 3 part story please continue with your amazing story writing skills