Post by Guardsman Patrick on Oct 12, 2006 23:15:22 GMT -5
Chapter 16: The Dark Orb
Zanthor stepped back into the lighted circle, his pride throbbing. Defeat was not a proud outcome, and it certainly wasn’t an acceptable one.
“General Zanthor, what have you to say? I have no patience for things that are unimportant,” the shadow chanted his usual introduction.
“Sir, I have news of the mission that we were sent to complete by General Shade,” Zanthor had to bite his tongue just to show a little respect for Shade.
“What news do you bring me? I hope that it will be good news.” The shadow seemed to almost sing the words. Each one seemed elegant and rhythmic.
“I am afraid not master,” Zanthor felt humiliated to say it, “sir, they are more powerful than we imagined. We went into the battle with a total of two hundred men, and we returned after losing one hundred and seventy eight. We have no idea how they are so strong. We just know that they almost couldn’t be touched.”
The shadow fell silent, and not even the breathing of the general in the center of the room was audible. “That is quite a percentage to lose Zanthor. I don’t know why you wouldn’t have retreated earlier. My patience with you wears thin, General.” The words lashed out, making each second of the speech antagonizing.
“I deeply apologize. I thought that the soldiers could handle such a small group,” Zanthor made up quickly, knowing good and well that he knew the threat level.
“I told you they couldn’t be crushed out easily, but luckily that was only a test. I wanted to see how well they could fight. Now, we will move onto the more serious battle,” the shadow didn’t seem to care about the lost men, or the fact that two hundred men were reduced to twenty-two.
“Shall I ready more troops, sir?” Zanthor only needed a yes to be let go.
“No, I would like you to brief all the elites, explain the problems and try to ready them all for the next attack. I will send for you when it is time for the briefing.” The shadow dismissed him, urging him out of the room quickly.
Zanthor stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, looking at the dent in the wall where he usually hit it in his furies. He wanted hit it again, knowing that Shade was going to stick around, but he couldn’t with his bandaged hand. All he could do was wait until the battle to release it all.
The doors to the elevator opened, and there stood Shade, waiting to speak with the shadow himself. Shade grinned as Zanthor stepped out.
“So, how did it go, General?” Shade said, already knowing the answer he would get.
“We lost our entire regiment, our aerial fleet, everything,” Zanthor realized now that it was stupid to try to prove Shade wrong. He had trashed his reputation to try to prove someone wrong.
“Well, why am I not surprised by that?” Shade said it with a gloating tone, making Zanthor want to strangle him.
“You were the one who suggested that we go through with it, so you must have thought it would fail earlier,” Zanthor said, knowing this had been Shades way of showing that Zanthor was disposable.
“Actually, I thought it would work, but I didn’t remember until later that you are blinded by your pride.” Shade knew Zanthor was especially prideful of his victories, and he was not warmhearted when it came to criticism. Actually, he knew he wasn’t warmhearted when it came to anything, but he hated criticism more than usual.
“Now if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have been called by my superiors to talk about this devastating defeat,” Shade shoved past Zanthor, knowing that he had struck Zanthor where it hurt most. Zanthor swallowed what little prideful arrogance he still had, and shrugged it off.
Shade stepped into the elevator, and smugly smiled at a Zanthor before the doors closed. The elevator rushed up the shaft, jerking every so often on the rust that was known to build up on the sides.
Shade stepped out of the elevator once the doors hissed opened, revealing the darkened room again. As he stepped into the spotlight again, he was greeted by the shadow, welcoming him with a bit more respect than that which was paid to Zanthor.
“Ah, Shade, just the person I wanted to see. I have something that I think you might be pleased to see again.” A couple of elites stepped out of the shadows, holding a long narrow box. Shade didn’t know what he was looking at until his eyes focused on the symbol that was engraved on the box. It was the same symbol that the necklace bore.
“I know you’re fully capable of using your old one, but I think you needed something newer,” the shadow spoke as Shade took the box from the elite’s hands. They backed into the shadows again when Shade opened the box and stared in awe.
On the red velvet pillow inside the box sat a new sword. Shade stared at its black, highly polished blade, wondering how it had been made. He looked down to the hilt that sported a sleekly designed gold end. The handle was covered in green velvet, making it have a soft handle that wouldn’t cause blisters. It was a nice sword, but what caught Shades eye the most was what was inlaid on the hilt.
On it was the design that was on the box, the necklace, and Shades headband. It was the Dark Orb. Shade looked at it again; blinking hard to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. It’s gentle green glow clouded the Orb slightly.
“Where? How?” Shade was baffled by seeing this again.
“You thought you had gotten rid of it, but now I have returned it to you,” the shadow explained, “you shouldn’t be so surprised. I have done things like this before.”
Shade sheathed the new sword, noticing its ring was deeper than his other one. It stopped ringing as its hand guard hit the top of the sheath, and he smiled contently, bowing to the shadow in approval.
“I hope you will use it wisely, as I have told you before, the Orb is not a toy. If you misuse it, it will return the favor,” the shadow spoke in a serious tone, knowing the wrath of the Dark Orb.
“Of course sir, I will crush out the opposition with its power. Unless that is misuse, I will be fine,” Shade knew that the shadow thought of him highly, almost like a son, almost.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to leave me in peace, I am a very busy man as you know, and I am impatient with those who get me sidetracked,” the shadow spoke, dismissing him almost the same way he had before, almost as if the dismissal was some kind of inside joke.
Patrick shot up in his sleep, breathing hard through his cold sweat. He recalled his dream, seeing the darkness drawing closer and closer. The cold laughter of evil rang out over the shrieks of agony, yelling for help, yelling for a hero. They called, but nothing could be done.
Patrick walked over to the dresser, pulling a white shirt over his head, pulling it down to the beltline of his jeans. He walked over to the tiny kitchen, splashing water on his face, his breathing returning to normal. He splashed a little more and the water ran down over his visor, the visor that he never took off.
It wasn’t long before Patrick stepped out of the elevator onto the hard wood surface of the sky pad, the top floor of the tower. He gazed into the sky, seeing the red line on the horizon as the sun peeked over the endless waves of the Nogard Sea.
“So, what do you say a true hero is?” Patrick asked, as he noticed Alex stepping out of the elevator himself.
“Why are you awake? You need to sleep,” Alex asked through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s what the Orb does to me.” Patrick glanced over his shoulder at Alex, a small smile growing on his face. “I don’t need much sleep I guess is the best way to put it.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need your rest though. We are not exactly under zero pressure right now,” Alex said through yet another yawn. He seemed to be the one who needed sleep.
“Well, don’t worry about me. I can handle myself and all my horrible habits.” Patrick walked over to a small panel near the floor at the bottom of the glass done. He opened it and slipped through onto the top of the dome, using the great dragon statues tail spikes as a ladder. Alex didn’t bother to follow him. He, unlike Patrick, required lots of sleep.
Patrick walked out into the windy outside world, staring out over the forest, seeing Ulptian flying back and forth over the forest. Patrick whistled loudly and watched him turn and fly back to the tower, a limp, bloody wilker in his claws.
“I haven’t seen you for a while now.” Ulptian said as he landed, dropping the wilker onto the statues wing.
“I haven’t been doing too much,” Patrick looked around for any sign of bones, blood stains or anything. There was nothing. Either the two dragons ate every part of the animal, or they were neat freaks.
“I need you to fly me over to Andorg. I want to make sure there aren’t any troops headed this way.” Patrick was already climbing onto Ulptian’s back, using his spikes to climb to the dragon’s neck.
“Well, I guess I can eat this later,” Ulptian put the wilker down slowly, making sure not to break any of the bones. He took off with one mighty beat of his wings, climbing higher and higher until he was far above the tower, and the Nogard waters.
Zanthor stepped back into the lighted circle, his pride throbbing. Defeat was not a proud outcome, and it certainly wasn’t an acceptable one.
“General Zanthor, what have you to say? I have no patience for things that are unimportant,” the shadow chanted his usual introduction.
“Sir, I have news of the mission that we were sent to complete by General Shade,” Zanthor had to bite his tongue just to show a little respect for Shade.
“What news do you bring me? I hope that it will be good news.” The shadow seemed to almost sing the words. Each one seemed elegant and rhythmic.
“I am afraid not master,” Zanthor felt humiliated to say it, “sir, they are more powerful than we imagined. We went into the battle with a total of two hundred men, and we returned after losing one hundred and seventy eight. We have no idea how they are so strong. We just know that they almost couldn’t be touched.”
The shadow fell silent, and not even the breathing of the general in the center of the room was audible. “That is quite a percentage to lose Zanthor. I don’t know why you wouldn’t have retreated earlier. My patience with you wears thin, General.” The words lashed out, making each second of the speech antagonizing.
“I deeply apologize. I thought that the soldiers could handle such a small group,” Zanthor made up quickly, knowing good and well that he knew the threat level.
“I told you they couldn’t be crushed out easily, but luckily that was only a test. I wanted to see how well they could fight. Now, we will move onto the more serious battle,” the shadow didn’t seem to care about the lost men, or the fact that two hundred men were reduced to twenty-two.
“Shall I ready more troops, sir?” Zanthor only needed a yes to be let go.
“No, I would like you to brief all the elites, explain the problems and try to ready them all for the next attack. I will send for you when it is time for the briefing.” The shadow dismissed him, urging him out of the room quickly.
Zanthor stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, looking at the dent in the wall where he usually hit it in his furies. He wanted hit it again, knowing that Shade was going to stick around, but he couldn’t with his bandaged hand. All he could do was wait until the battle to release it all.
The doors to the elevator opened, and there stood Shade, waiting to speak with the shadow himself. Shade grinned as Zanthor stepped out.
“So, how did it go, General?” Shade said, already knowing the answer he would get.
“We lost our entire regiment, our aerial fleet, everything,” Zanthor realized now that it was stupid to try to prove Shade wrong. He had trashed his reputation to try to prove someone wrong.
“Well, why am I not surprised by that?” Shade said it with a gloating tone, making Zanthor want to strangle him.
“You were the one who suggested that we go through with it, so you must have thought it would fail earlier,” Zanthor said, knowing this had been Shades way of showing that Zanthor was disposable.
“Actually, I thought it would work, but I didn’t remember until later that you are blinded by your pride.” Shade knew Zanthor was especially prideful of his victories, and he was not warmhearted when it came to criticism. Actually, he knew he wasn’t warmhearted when it came to anything, but he hated criticism more than usual.
“Now if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have been called by my superiors to talk about this devastating defeat,” Shade shoved past Zanthor, knowing that he had struck Zanthor where it hurt most. Zanthor swallowed what little prideful arrogance he still had, and shrugged it off.
Shade stepped into the elevator, and smugly smiled at a Zanthor before the doors closed. The elevator rushed up the shaft, jerking every so often on the rust that was known to build up on the sides.
Shade stepped out of the elevator once the doors hissed opened, revealing the darkened room again. As he stepped into the spotlight again, he was greeted by the shadow, welcoming him with a bit more respect than that which was paid to Zanthor.
“Ah, Shade, just the person I wanted to see. I have something that I think you might be pleased to see again.” A couple of elites stepped out of the shadows, holding a long narrow box. Shade didn’t know what he was looking at until his eyes focused on the symbol that was engraved on the box. It was the same symbol that the necklace bore.
“I know you’re fully capable of using your old one, but I think you needed something newer,” the shadow spoke as Shade took the box from the elite’s hands. They backed into the shadows again when Shade opened the box and stared in awe.
On the red velvet pillow inside the box sat a new sword. Shade stared at its black, highly polished blade, wondering how it had been made. He looked down to the hilt that sported a sleekly designed gold end. The handle was covered in green velvet, making it have a soft handle that wouldn’t cause blisters. It was a nice sword, but what caught Shades eye the most was what was inlaid on the hilt.
On it was the design that was on the box, the necklace, and Shades headband. It was the Dark Orb. Shade looked at it again; blinking hard to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. It’s gentle green glow clouded the Orb slightly.
“Where? How?” Shade was baffled by seeing this again.
“You thought you had gotten rid of it, but now I have returned it to you,” the shadow explained, “you shouldn’t be so surprised. I have done things like this before.”
Shade sheathed the new sword, noticing its ring was deeper than his other one. It stopped ringing as its hand guard hit the top of the sheath, and he smiled contently, bowing to the shadow in approval.
“I hope you will use it wisely, as I have told you before, the Orb is not a toy. If you misuse it, it will return the favor,” the shadow spoke in a serious tone, knowing the wrath of the Dark Orb.
“Of course sir, I will crush out the opposition with its power. Unless that is misuse, I will be fine,” Shade knew that the shadow thought of him highly, almost like a son, almost.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to leave me in peace, I am a very busy man as you know, and I am impatient with those who get me sidetracked,” the shadow spoke, dismissing him almost the same way he had before, almost as if the dismissal was some kind of inside joke.
* * *
Patrick shot up in his sleep, breathing hard through his cold sweat. He recalled his dream, seeing the darkness drawing closer and closer. The cold laughter of evil rang out over the shrieks of agony, yelling for help, yelling for a hero. They called, but nothing could be done.
Patrick walked over to the dresser, pulling a white shirt over his head, pulling it down to the beltline of his jeans. He walked over to the tiny kitchen, splashing water on his face, his breathing returning to normal. He splashed a little more and the water ran down over his visor, the visor that he never took off.
It wasn’t long before Patrick stepped out of the elevator onto the hard wood surface of the sky pad, the top floor of the tower. He gazed into the sky, seeing the red line on the horizon as the sun peeked over the endless waves of the Nogard Sea.
“So, what do you say a true hero is?” Patrick asked, as he noticed Alex stepping out of the elevator himself.
“Why are you awake? You need to sleep,” Alex asked through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s what the Orb does to me.” Patrick glanced over his shoulder at Alex, a small smile growing on his face. “I don’t need much sleep I guess is the best way to put it.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need your rest though. We are not exactly under zero pressure right now,” Alex said through yet another yawn. He seemed to be the one who needed sleep.
“Well, don’t worry about me. I can handle myself and all my horrible habits.” Patrick walked over to a small panel near the floor at the bottom of the glass done. He opened it and slipped through onto the top of the dome, using the great dragon statues tail spikes as a ladder. Alex didn’t bother to follow him. He, unlike Patrick, required lots of sleep.
Patrick walked out into the windy outside world, staring out over the forest, seeing Ulptian flying back and forth over the forest. Patrick whistled loudly and watched him turn and fly back to the tower, a limp, bloody wilker in his claws.
“I haven’t seen you for a while now.” Ulptian said as he landed, dropping the wilker onto the statues wing.
“I haven’t been doing too much,” Patrick looked around for any sign of bones, blood stains or anything. There was nothing. Either the two dragons ate every part of the animal, or they were neat freaks.
“I need you to fly me over to Andorg. I want to make sure there aren’t any troops headed this way.” Patrick was already climbing onto Ulptian’s back, using his spikes to climb to the dragon’s neck.
“Well, I guess I can eat this later,” Ulptian put the wilker down slowly, making sure not to break any of the bones. He took off with one mighty beat of his wings, climbing higher and higher until he was far above the tower, and the Nogard waters.