Continued from Part 1.
Patience, Please
This site is under reconstruction and will look strange for a while. We regret the inconvenience.
RRR, version 2007.1 (Terenika) – Part 2
This entry was posted in Fiction, poetry, and fanfiction. Bookmark the permalink.
Whee! Part 2! Shall we summarize? Or maybe take all the story-posts from part 1 and post them here?
Someone else can do a summary, as there are quite a few parts that aren’t quite straight in my mind.
YAY! I got comment 2! I am new to thist story. Can someone summarize instead of posting the entire story?
dang it. got post 3 not post 2.
Eee, later. Gotta go to dinner soon.
Thank you, dear GAPAs!
There are three main protagonists:
Terenika, Caelan and Sigmund
They are trying to find the Last Grammyre (I do hope I spelled that right. If not, could somebody please correct me?) and possibly save the city (?).
Sigmund is full of magical-ness, because he is a rune master. Terenika was part of a band of thieves who stole magical objects. Caelan used to be in the Guard, but he was kind of kicked out.
Am I missing any of the beginning stuff?
I don’t think so, but then, I wouldn’t know, newbie that I am. Well, not really, but I am new to this RRR.
I considered posting the whole story, but that meant putting it n word, and that wasn’t going to be much fun.
Oh, and basically Sigmund just kicks everyone’s arse because he’s, well, awesome.
Okay y’all, I’m gonna try to help with an RRR this time. Try. *wishes self luck*
Great, Beavo! If everyone will wait three hours, I will combine all the posts on the previous thread and post the whole story here. Of course, there’s lots of world-building and side-notes in the original thread that would be good to read. *hinthint* But in a few hours, I can post the whole story, and I wouldn’t mind having a document to refer back to.
Ugh. I changed my mind. I’m not even going to try to be Keeper on this one. Someone else can do it, whoever has the draft or understands the story better than I.
Sorry, but I’m already Keeping one or two of the stories officially, and another unofficially.
Okay, so here’s the best summary I can manage, just so no one abandons this. (Come back, Donaldo and Beavo!)
Caelan is an officer of the Watch in Wandstadt, the city. (Oh, and someone should explain the geography and stuff.) One day, he accidentally lets some thieves get away, and is told to scrub the floor. In the process, he gets fired.
Meanwhile, Terenika is one of the thieves that gets away. Later she and Caelan meet, and they also meet Sigmund, a runemaster who is also a mighty warrior. The all team up and the High Thief gets murdered by some people. Together with a dragonhound named Brutus, they go through some catacombs and rescue a book. unless it’s a tablet. Any road, it’s The Last Gramarye (not even gonna try to spell it right now, I really need to brush up on the story), and there’s a god called Fafnir (he’s a dragon god, btw), and he also wants the Last Gramarrye,and they are currently fighting him.
I’m sorry, that was pathetic. Someone else can go more into detail, and I would much appreciate it. I have a very loose grasp of the story myself, and I really, really hope i didn’t scare you away.
Here’s where the last thread left off:
Terenika was the fastest of the three, so she was the first to see the effects of Sigmund’s runeworking. It looked as though a nine-hour blizzard had been compressed into nine seconds. Sigmund and the top floor of the Flame Townhouse were the only things within a nine-foot radius that were not buried under nine feet of snow.
There was a snuffling noise, and Sigmund reached into the snow with a great, gloved hand. He pulled a rather bedraggled-looking Brutus out. The dragonhound hung limply for a few seconds, then ran, barking excitedly, towards one of the Townhouse’s top windows. A jet of golden flame shot from under the snow. Fafnir would be free in moments. Sigmund set off after Brutus, not looking back.
Caelan and Terenika began to plunge through the snow, after them, exhausted and in a mild state of shock. Still, they went onwards, knowing that whatever was going to happen in the end would be worse if if the did not try to fix the situation.
Suddenly Caelan gave a yell of surprise and pulunged through the crust of the snow.
Fafnir stood, glorious in his anger. The snow conjured up by Sigmund was gone, replaced by swirling colors, blinding in intensity. Sigmund and Terenika raised their arms to shield their eyes against the onslaught of rage emanating from the Avatar. The dragon god was channeling all his power to strike at those who dared attack him. The norseman would die, Fafnir would make sure of that.
The colors kept swirling around the Avatar, changing color, growing to a density that blocked Fafnir from sight. Terenika recognized the same quality of runic magic used by Sigmund in the wharehouse. When she looked at the norseman, though, she saw him chanting too.
Sigmund was sweating. The creature in front of him was insanely powerful, as it was no more than a vessel for a god’s magic. The only way to have any hope of challenging it was to call on the gods himself, and use their power as his own. But he would run the risk of taking in too much divine power for his body and mind to hold…
Was it worth it? Sigmund wondered. But he already knew the answer…
Caelan found himself standing in the burning building. Outside- what of it he could see through the burning window- a blinding mist all colors of the rainbow swirled around an indiscernable figure. He could see Sigmund and Terenika standing in front of it.
Hang on, I think I left out a paragraph.
Yup, I left something out. How remarkable clever of me. Here’s the new one, with forgotten paragraph.
Terenika was the fastest of the three, so she was the first to see the effects of Sigmund’s runeworking. It looked as though a nine-hour blizzard had been compressed into nine seconds. Sigmund and the top floor of the Flame Townhouse were the only things within a nine-foot radius that were not buried under nine feet of snow.
There was a snuffling noise, and Sigmund reached into the snow with a great, gloved hand. He pulled a rather bedraggled-looking Brutus out. The dragonhound hung limply for a few seconds, then ran, barking excitedly, towards one of the Townhouse’s top windows. A jet of golden flame shot from under the snow. Fafnir would be free in moments. Sigmund set off after Brutus, not looking back.
Caelan and Terenika began to plunge through the snow, after them, exhausted and in a mild state of shock. Still, they went onwards, knowing that whatever was going to happen in the end would be worse if if the did not try to fix the situation.
Suddenly Caelan gave a yell of surprise and pulunged through the crust of the snow.
Terenika spun around just in time to see Caelan vanish. A throaty chuckle resounded from beneath her feet. Then the snow disappeared. It didn’t just melt, it evaporated.
Fafnir stood, glorious in his anger. The snow conjured up by Sigmund was gone, replaced by swirling colors, blinding in intensity. Sigmund and Terenika raised their arms to shield their eyes against the onslaught of rage emanating from the Avatar. The dragon god was channeling all his power to strike at those who dared attack him. The norseman would die, Fafnir would make sure of that.
The colors kept swirling around the Avatar, changing color, growing to a density that blocked Fafnir from sight. Terenika recognized the same quality of runic magic used by Sigmund in the wharehouse. When she looked at the norseman, though, she saw him chanting too.
Sigmund was sweating. The creature in front of him was insanely powerful, as it was no more than a vessel for a god’s magic. The only way to have any hope of challenging it was to call on the gods himself, and use their power as his own. But he would run the risk of taking in too much divine power for his body and mind to hold…
Was it worth it? Sigmund wondered. But he already knew the answer…
Caelan found himself standing in the burning building. Outside- what of it he could see through the burning window- a blinding mist all colors of the rainbow swirled around an indiscernable figure. He could see Sigmund and Terenika standing in front of it.
~~~~~~~~
And now
for something completely differentI’ll write something.~~~~~~~~
Caelan looked wildly around. Just about everything in the building was burning, and he didn’t see anywhere to run to. There was fire above him and below him and all around him, and pretty soon there would be fire inside him unless he did something quick.
Or would there?
He didn’t feel the heat that ought to be searing against his skin, just pleasant warmth. Not one of his garments had yet caught fire, and neither had his hair, though by rights it should have.
~~~~~~~
Don’t abandon this thread! We just got a new one! We can’t let it die!
Sorry I’m still writing about Caelan, but I haven’t fully got the hang of this story yet, and this seems to be the quarter where I can do the most free-form.
We need Canix and Fridgey….
14- Yeah. Where are they? Prarilius Canix is around, or was yesterday, but I have no idea what happened to FrigidSymphony.
FRIGIDSYMPHONY AND PRARILIUS CANIX!!!!! COME BACK HERE AND WRITE!!!!
“““““
This thread was incredibly helpful. It’s still dead. I think I scared off the newbies with my summary.
Caelan suddenly noticed that the walls were not burning, though all around was a raging inferno. Upon closer inspection, he found that the room he was in seemed to be fireproof, as was the adjacent room. He put his ear to the door and heard a faint drumming. He hesitated for a moment, then curiosity overcame fear, and he opened the door.
A large blue statuette in the shape of an otter was perched on the floor in front of him, blue light spiraling off of it and disappearing into the woodwork. Caelan recognized it from his Watch training on Remnant Magics. It was a Porian totem stone of immense power, probably the source of the fireproofing. And only one person with access to totem stones had a motive to be in the Flame Townhouse.
Rana.
Caelan looked up and found himself staring at the back of the High Thief’s ex-right hand man. Another man was hanging from the ceiling by ropes tied to his wrists. Painful-looking cuts crosshatched his bare back.
“I’ll ask one more time, Janu,” Rana spat, his Porian accent more marked in his anger. “The Dragonheads are on our doorstep, so I can’t afford to dawdle.” He raised a whip meaningfully. “Therefore, neither can you. Where’s the Last Grimoire?”
Caelan reacted on pure instinct. The only thought present in his mind was that this man had murdered his mother (or was it his dad? can’t remember), and for that the bastard was going to DIE. Screaming, he ran at Rana, not even drawing his sword. He jumped at the man, fingers clawing at his face, trying to gouge his eyes out. Rana’s initial exprssion was one of confusion, confusion which immediately turned to fear as he tried to get Caelan off of him. Lifting his foot onto Caelan’s chest, he heaved. Caelan went flying, crashing onto the floor.
He got up. His attitude had changed, going from the animal rage he had first felt into a state of cool precision and deadliness. He drew his sword, the one Sigmund had given to him in the Warehouse. He glanced at the runes, they were dull, simple carvings etched into the Skarjandrian steel. [the runes start working once they sense that whoever is using them is ‘worthy’, Caelan has to prove himself an able combatant first].
18- Er-HEM. Terenika was the one whose mother died, and Janu was the one who killed her. You might want to scratch that.
Oh! I was confused as to what part Janu played.
Dammit I can’t remember the old stuff. Oh well, Caelan was just pissed off and wanted to kill him.
21- Is that Caelan’s style?
Oh, forget that, I don’t know what Caelan’s style is. All I know is Ian’s style, and they are very, VERY different. Forget I said anything.
22: Caelan seems sort of mild so far, maybe it would be good to get him… roused, maybe?
Yeah, that’s why I get him and Ian mixed up.
A Part 2 doesn’t seem to have helped this thread stay alive.
Terenika stared in fascinated horror. The pattern on Sigmund’s forehead was glowing brightly. Beads of sweat trickled through his hair, and electric sparks crackled across the massive war hammer he held. “I’ll keep him occupied,” the Skarjandrian said through gritted teeth, “but even I can’t hold off a god forever. Take Brutus, find the Grimoire, and run. If I die, go back to the warehouse, pick up as many artifacts as you can, and get on a barge to Muhlstadt. Try to find a way to destroy the Grimoire there. If I survive, I’ll meet you at the warehouse.”
Terenika grabbed Brutus’s leash, but hesitated.
“Go!” Sigmund yelled, and she went. Brutus pulled her along like an eager juggernaut, smashing through the window. Glass powder rained down inside the room, and Terenika instinctively wrapped an arm over her face to protect her eyes. When she looked out again after a few seconds, she found herself staring at three very familiar faces.
~
“Terenika!” Caelan gasped. [Note- I’m continuing from before FS’s post, when Caelan had just entered the room. Caelan doesn’t really have a motive to attack Rana.] Rana hissed like a red mamba. Pulling a long, bamboo-shafted spear from under his coat, he struck at Terenika’s arm just as she brought up a knife to throw. The blow was glancing, but the knife thunked into the ceiling less than an inch from the ropes binding Janu.
Caelan decided it was time to get involved. He slashed downward with his sword at the spearshaft.
The blade was sharper than it looked. The bamboo was cleanly sheared in half, and Rana was left holding a stump. The Porian traitor’s face writhed in anger. He uttered a few incomprehensible words. Caelan stabbed Rana in the chest just as a wall of freezing water shot out from the totem stone, hurling boy, girl and man into the opposite wall. As the water drained away, all three lay slumped on the ground, unconscious or worse.
Oh right. Drat. I’m still here, but the Evil One has blocked me from doing more than sending letters saying how sorry I am for my writer’s block.
Terenika sat up, shaking the fuzziness from her vision. Rana was lying spread-eagled on the floor, impaled by a sword. Caelan was already up, staring in shock at what he had done. But there was one person missing from the room.
Janu.
A tangle of ropes hung from the ceiling, slashed off at the ends. Terenika cursed inwardly. Her knife! Janu must have used the one stuck in the ceiling to cut his bonds and run away. And, if Brutus whining and scratching at the door was anything to go by, he’d taken the Grimoire.
I’m afraid I’m finding it rather hard not to turn Caelan into an older version of Ian. That would be bad.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Darn writer’s block!
Terenika grabbed Caelan’s shoulder. He slowly turned around, his eyes sorrowful.
“What?” He asked, looking back at the newly-created corpse.
“We need to leave, Caelan.” Terenika stated, gently but firmly.
When he did not respond, she tugged on his arm, and pulled him frantically towards the door.
“Janu,” She panted. “Janu is getting away, and you are standing here, doing nothing. Do you want him to steal the book?”
Caelan snapped to attention.
~~~~~~~
My brain did not.
Okay, this is seriously a dying RRR. ***COME HERE***
32- We know. Personally, I don’t try quite as hard as I could, because this is also a very battle-y RRR.
We SHAN”T let this die! I won’t!
~~~~~~~~~~
They ran out of the building, dodging through the flames. Once outside, they didn’t stop running. Sigmund fell into step beside them, the runes on his forehead still smoldering faintly. Oh, good, he’s not dead, thought Terenika, but her need to catch Janu left little room in her brain for thoughts. She did wonder, though, what had happened to Fafnir, and somehow found the breath to gasp out that very question.
Could someone give me a quick summary, and then I’ll join? Thanks.
35- Alright. *racks brain* I’m not the right person to do this, but anyways.
Caelan is an officer of the Watch in Wandstadt, the city. (Oh, and someone should explain the geography and stuff.) One day, he accidentally lets some thieves get away, and is told to scrub the floor. In the process, he gets fired.
Meanwhile, Terenika is one of the thieves that gets away. Later she and Caelan meet, and they also meet Sigmund, a runemaster who is also a mighty warrior. The all team up and the High Thief gets murdered by some people. Together with a dragonhound named Brutus, they go through some catacombs and rescue a book. unless it’s a tablet. Any road, it’s The Last Grimoire (not even gonna try to spell it right now, I really need to brush up on the story), and there’s a god called Fafnir (he’s a dragon god, btw), and he also wants the Last Grimoire, and Sigmund just fought him, but who knows what happened. The Last Grimoire has been stolen by the man who killed Terenika’s father, whose name is Janu.
That good enough?
For the last time, Janu killed Terenika’s mother, not father.
Oh! Sorry. I meant mother, but I mistyped. Sorry.
Well? What happened to Fafnir? Please, someone write!
Sigmund shook his head, as the rune stopped glowing and melted slowly into his skin. “Tell you later,” he said, and they ran on.
~~~~~~~~
HELP ME!
There was a loud explosion, and a figure barely recognizable as the Avatar rose from the snow, trailing orange flames. The remaining Dragonheads clustered around it.
This left the Watch free to surge forward. Aodhan, who had been left behind, finally caught up and joined his group. The Watchmen came to an uneasy halt right in front of the Dragonheads. They had seen magical objects before, but those had been behind thick layers of glass in museums. And this was no artifact- it was pure rune-power, wild and alive, bursting out of its vessel.
Terenika, Caelan and Sigmund took advantage of the distraction to dodge down an alley and hurriedly recount their tales.
Sigmund grinned when Caelan told him about Rana’s death. “Then the Mamba is dealt with- for now. But we need to find Janu and the Grimoire before Fafnir does.”
“What does Fafnir want with the Grimoire? He’s a god!” Terenika, who had been wondering this, exclaimed.
Sigmund looked grim. “Because he is one of the lesser gods, cast out when he became too greedy for power. He cannot affect anything on Earth except through avatars carrying a limited amount of his spirit. With the Grimoire, he would be able to lift the banishment and appear in the mortal realm in all his glory and rage- a fiery dragon, invincible and unstoppable, with berserk fanatics serving him. He wishes to conquer Earth- and after that victory, he will have the power to conquer the realm of the gods.”
“We have to find Janu,” Terenika stated flatly. “And when we do, leave him to me.”
Suddenly, a clattering noise echoed down the road, accompanied by a musty, vaguely familiar scent. Sigmund grabbed his young companions and pulled them back into the shadows. Terenika’s face was pressed against the wall, so Caelan was the only one to see what was coming down the street.
Skeletons. An entire army, surrounded by a thick fog that smelled of illness and death, carried magical artifacts from the Organization’s warehouse in their bony hands. The macabre parade passed by in a few minutes, heading for the scene of battle.
Sigmund smiled. “They got out of the Catacombs. Fafnir will have his claws full.”
Caelan felt sick, thinking of the his friends from the Watch. “We have to get back there! The Watchmen will be slaughtered.”
He began to run, but Sigmund gripped his shoulder. “More will die if we don’t destroy the Grimoire.”
But it was useless to reason with him. Snatching Terenika’s jar of firestones, he dashed off after the skeletons.
Sigmund sighed. “Idiot.”
“He’s just idealistic,” Terenika protested.
“Something we cannot afford to be. Brutus will track down what we need. I’ll take the Grimoire. You can handle Janu.”
Terenika smiled grimly. “My pleasure.”
((Does anyone notice some parallels to the Bartimaeus Trilogy here? Terenika particularly reminds me of Kitty Jones.))
*applauds PC for writing so much even though he’s not on this RRR*
44- ARE YOU KIDDING? I wrote the first story post!
45 – I meant posts 41-43. I’d sure like to have somebody do that much in a row all by themself on RRRs I’m on!
43- Actually, it’s been a while. But sort of, in a way, I guess.
47- True. Sorry. But I have been visiting this RRR, and as soon as you posted, I was inspired and wrote 41-43.
Anyway, about my question: Does anyone notice parallels to the Bartimaeus Trilogy here.?
48- *thinks* Sort of. Terenika = Kitty Jones is easy, like you said, but I can’t think of anyone as Nathaniel/John Mandrake, because he was so hateful. (But I was still sad when he died. Why?) I don’t see how Sigmund parallels anyone, though. But the whole story does kind of remind me of the Bartimaeus Trilogy when you mention it.
Hmm. The series would have been better if Mr. Mandrake hadn’t been so awful and ambitious and powerful and…
Yeah, sorry.
49- But Nathaniel worked for the good of the people, just before he died, so he was redeemed at the end.
The Organization seems sort of like the Resistance. Steals magical artifacts? Check. Criminals who the police are trying to hunt down? Check. Similar characters? See below:
High Thief=decrepit, passionate leader= Mr. Pennyfeather
Terenika= fiery, idealistic, skilled girl= Kitty Jones
Rana= deferential, traitorous right-hand man= Hopkins
Check.
50- Oh, you’re right. Eek. Okay, so do we need to break off RIGHT NOW and go off on a random tangent for the sake of originality? Or do we just accept the fact that those are oft-used characters (the author of the Bartimaeus Trilogy wasn’t the first to use them, believe me) and go on with the story?
I say the latter. What say you?
Let’s go on. There are plenty of original elements in this.
52- Very well. (A nice alternative to my trademark, “okay”.) I’m lost, though. What do the firestones do again?
53- Like a miniature H-bomb, but without the radiation. In effect, a magical grenade.
54-
And you shall count to three.Sorry, sorry. Thanks for the explanation, anyway.“I’m sure,” replied Sigmund.
And then they turned and ran into the night.
The skeletons moved incredibly fast. Caelan stopped and pried the lid off the jar. Seizing a firestone, he hurled it into the midst of the skeletons.
Caelan was not on the Watch for nothing. He had certain skills, and among them was miraculous aim. The firestone landed squarely in the center of the horde, and exploded there. Skeletons crumpled like dolls, and burst into flame. Caelan threw another, and another, and another.
~~~~~~~
Now if it was me, I would make him run out, because I’m cruel like that, but I don’t know how many there are, or how many it would take to wipe out the skeletons, so I should leave it to Canix.
56- Terenika’s jar, the one he snatched, was almost empty. By all means, make him run out.
57- Sweet! I love doing this . . .
~~~~~~
But when he reached into the jar for the fifth firestone, his hand connected with the glass. His eyes still on the skeletons, his hand searched the glass bottom desperately in the vain hope that the jar would suddenly reveal itself to be bottomless. It did not. And now the skeletons were turning on him . . .
~~~~~~
Quick, someone switch to Terenika and Sigmund!
Yes, I’m always thinking of ways to build the suspense.
so this is what it comes to. a dead therd. well I think I’ll add this to the rember thes therds therd.
59- Give it time. RRRs don’t go that fast.
This is still alive? Cool, I’ll be back…
Terenika stopped suddenly, and leaned against a nearby wall, panting.
“What’s the matter?” asked Sigmund.
“Nothing,” said Terenika. “But the jar . . . it wasn’t very full . . . and there were an awful lot of skeletons . . .”
~~~
I’ll write more tomorrow, now I’m going to go watch a program about the Vikings.
“Caelan,” stated Sigmund bluntly. “Don’t worry about him. We have to get the Grimoire!”
“I know, I know,” said Terenika. “But still . . . oh, never mind. He can take care of himself for once. He was in the Watch, after all.”
“The Watch is far from competent,” said Sigmund.
Terenika cast him a glare. “I know. Let’s go,” she said.
By all rights, they should never have caught up with Janu. He had had a head start so large that it would have taken a miracle to catch up with him. But clearly, miracles were not so far-fetched, because very soon they saw him, a lone figure struggling along a few hundred yards ahead of them. Terenika stopped. Her eyes narrowed.
“How heavy is the Grimoire?” she asked Sigmund.
“It all depends,” replied the big man. Of course. Nothing would seem very heavy to him. She frowned. It could be very heavy, maybe.
“Never mind, then.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I said, never mind.” And she started to run again.
~~~~~~
Just wondering . . . is anyone Keeping this? TMFA? Canix? FrigidSymphony?
Oh, and sorry if I’m wreaking havoc on your carefully developed characters, but there’s only so much you can pick up from one reading.
Is purplefinch Keeping? I don’t know, none of you seem the type.
63-I’m not keeping. I need to get cought up. plese post the story,keeper!
I don’t think anybody’s Keeping.
Great. That means that someone will have to go gather all the comments together when we’re done. Oh, great.
Whatever. Right now, let’s just write.
well we are nowhere near done so thats not a problem yet
The skeletons turned on Caelan, faces fixed in the bony grin of death. Hard, ivory fingers, connected by ghostly ligaments, wrapped around his throat. As they inexorably tightened, the erstwhile Watchman saw death in the expressionless black sockets. His thoughts blurred away into endless darkness.
Then a firestone shattered the morbid vision, and also the skull. Aodhan was stabbing through his skeletal adversaries with his spear. Electric flares blazed across its ancient blade, burning away the thick fog of the White Scourge. “Get out of here!” he yelled to Caelan.
The thread hasn’t died! I’m so happy… but now I’ll have to catch up…
Do you want me to start Keeping? I could try.
70- Please do! I don’t want to Keep!
Caelan didn’t need telling twice. He fled.
Who exactly is Aodhan? I guess it’s time for me to read the old thread…
Oh! I see. He just vanished. Oh dear. Well, now he’s back and goodness knows where he’s been.
Scratch my last one (72). I can do this better.
~~~~
“But –” Caelan protested. “What about you? You can’t kill them all by yourself!”
Aodhan did not reply for a few seconds, while he struck down another skeleton. “Look, Caelan,” he said at last. “Either fight or don’t, don’t just stand there!”
this is 15,289 words long!
76- Really? I’d have thought it was longer.
76-there were some posts that we took out.
And then the sword was flashing again, and the runes glowing with a strong and steady light. Caelan did not see that he had any sort of choice, if he didn’t want to be forever haunted by his conscience, so he drew his own sword ((he has a sword, right?)) and joined in the battle.
Terenika was the first to see what Janu was carrying. It was not the Grimoire. Terenika couldn’t see clearly what it was, but she knew instinctively that it was not the Grimoire. But that didn’t matter; she could leave that to Sigmund. All she needed was revenge. She slowly and silently drew her knife . . . she was within throwing distance ((Terenika throws her knives, I think. Scratch it if I’m wrong)) . . . and then her feet turned into lead weights, and the knife slipped from her grasp, and Janu turned around.
~~~~~~~
*drumroll*
So it’s a little weird, but this story needs a pick-me-up.
Terenika looked down in horror. Dark water was lashing around her feet. She dropped to her knees, her strength vanishing.
Janu smiled. Terenika’s fuzzy vision could still discern that he was holding the totem stone from the townhouse. Water dripped off its surface like beads of sweat.
Janu reached beneath his coat and drew out Terenika’s own knife, readying it to stab.
“You know,” he said, apparently thoroughly enjoying himself, “I picked up a few things on my trip to Pori, so this stone wasn’t that hard to manipulate. Just like some people. Your mother, for instance… ”
A fiery stream of rage burned away the clammy darkness surrounding Terenika’s vision, and she snatched up her knife and lashed out blindly.
She didn’t need good aim. The totem stone on the pommel took care of that. Stumbling backward, Janu had no time to use his own stone. He instinctively held it up to try to block the knife.
The blade drove straight into the black eye of the carved otter, and a chip of the larger stone broke off. A thunderous crack resounded from all around.
A jet of freezing water shot out of the statue’s eye and swirled around the street, lighting up the cobblestones with an unearthly bluish-black radiance. Janu screamed and pulled something out of his pocket, holding it up in a last-resort gesture of desperate defense.
It was a small, leather-covered book, without any embellishment. But Terenika could sense the pure power radiating from it. She knew, without a doubt, that this was the Last Grimoire.
The water seemed to pause uncertainly, then rushed forward, enveloping Janu completely. Beneath its surface, the Grimoire vanished in a swirl of green light.
Then the water was draining away, and Janu lay on the street, a shocked expression on his face. “The water spirit- you freed it- it’s taken the Grimoire! I know how this works! It’ll return to Pori to get revenge on the person who bound it- with the Grimoire, it’ll be unstoppable!”
“What will happen after it’s taken its revenge?” Terenika asked calmly, retrieving her knife.
“It’ll return to its original river or lake, and the Grimoire will manifest somewhere in Pori,” Janu gasped. “Please don’t kill me!”
Ooh. Wow. I’ll think about what to write during school.
Terenika stalked over to him, retrieving her knife.
“You’ll find that some people are not as easily manipulated as others,” she whispered, driving the blade into him.
Curiously, she felt no emotion as he stiffened and went limp. She had expected triumph or fulfillment of some kind, or perhaps some remorse at what she had done. But there was nothing. Her heart may as well have been a lump of steel.
~~~
Sigmund was hard pressed. The Avatar was bending nearly all of his power against the Skarjandrian, and the Thunder God’s hammer was vibrating in his exhausted hands. Sigmund closed his eyes, offered his soul to the Valkyrija, and prepared himself for one final charge.
Then the fierce, hot pressure on his body and mind vanished. He looked up to see the Avatar and the Dragonheads vanishing in a twisting inferno of red flames. The fire mounded up above the roof of the Townhouse, then stretched itself into the shape of a vast-winged dragon. The fiery creature howled its anger at the night sky. Then it was gone, flying off to the south in a whirl of smoke. Fafnir was after the Last Grimoire.
“The Grimoire is in Pori,” said Terenika, wiping her knife on the edge of her tunic. “Or at least it will be, once the water spirit has taken it’s revenge on [whoever it was going to take it’s revenge on. I don’t know/remember].”
“And Fafnir’s going there too,” Sigmund scowled.
“Of course. Now what?”
“We need a ship,” said Sigmund, his brow furrowed. “Fafnir will be there before us, and unless we go quickly, he’ll find it before we have a chance.”
“We need to get hold of Caelan first,” Terenika said.
“If we can do that quickly, great. If not- we can’t waste any time.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Terenika said, running down the street and melding with the shadows.
This RRR gos in fits and starts. Have you noticed? Every now and then we’ll write like half a chapter in a day, and then it’ll be nearly abandoned for two weeks, no matter what I do to revive it, and then you’ll come back and we’ll write up a storm for two days.
Having said that, I don’t know what to write. And The Ash Grove is beginning to get on my nerves. But having turned it off, my ears feel empty. *bangs ears*
86- yes, I have noticed. I am lurking a bit longer.
~~~
caelan and aodhan were fighting with all there strength, but making no headway.
I can not think what else to write.
part one of the stroy:
Officer Caelan strode through the sea of humanity in Argent Square. He was only about fifteen, but he was a strapping lad, with plain, inconspicuous features that were unlikely to stand out in a crowd, so he was an excellent candidate for the City Watch. This was not the first time he had been assigned to patrol, but it was the first time something was likely to happen. The protective walls of Wandstadt loomed over him like reassuring sentinels, but it didn’t ease his nerves. The real danger came not from outside the walls, but from within.
A spate of daring thefts had broken out five weeks before, and showed no sign of slowing down. The culprits were as yet unknown, but it was clear that they were extremely skillful. Just two days before, a small sorcerous amulet had been stolen from the Wandstadt Museum of Artifacts. As the amulet was of relatively little power, it would not have been a problem in the heyday of the Three Kingdoms, when magic flourished and popped up on every corner and in every book. But one by one, the tomes of power were burned or ripped to pieces, their remains scattered to the four winds. One by one, the magicians weakened, their hands too palsied to inscribe the mystic runes or to form gestures of power, their voices too cracked to speak the ancient incantations with any degree of confidence. Nowadays, in the days after the decline of magic and the fall of the Kingdoms, even in oases of stability like Wandstadt, even the smallest amount of sorcery was powerful and potentially dangerous. A contact of the Watch had hinted that the amulet would soon be bargained over in Argent Square. Sergeant Finlay had thought that this would be a good test of Caelan’s mettle. Unfortunately, neither the Watch nor the thieves knew what they were getting themselves into.About 10 feet away from Caelan, an unruly rouge of perhaps 14 made a show of tripping and bumping into a richly dressed gentleman. Only Caelan’s watch-train eyes saw a glint of metal pass beteewn them.
Caelen strode towards the square, glancing nonchalantly at items in vendors’ stalls. All of those whom had once sold small magical trinkets, of great value now, had abandoned the crowded streets in fear of the theives. Those merhcants were some of the most properous in the area and had good reason to be afraid. Not once had the robbers left any clues, until the police had been notified about the poosible bargaining.
As Caelen drew closer, the streets became even more congested. He had to struggle to step forward instead of taking two steps back at every wave of people that blocked his way. Finally, he reached Argent Square. This was the center of business and Wandstadt, and the most, crowded, noisy place you could imagine. Some stalls had strange, outlandish creatures that made a discordant ruckus, while others sold flashy trinkets, herbs and spices, and the latest styles in clothing. Groups of young boys were playing in the streets, tripping up anyone who happened to get in their way.
Caelen gave a soft sigh of exasperation. The bargaining of the amulet could be anywhere in the huge place. Unsuer of where to start, he began walking around the outside of the square, looking for anything that could possibly be considered “out of the ordinary”.
As he approached one of the myraid small, winding streets that led out of the square, he saw a darkly-clad figure scurry away. Then, from across the square came a roar of outrage. The sole magical item vendor who had dared to advertise his products was yelling at the crowd, the stout man’s face turning bright red hiana-fruit. As Caelan shoved his way across the square to find out what was wrong, a foot tripped him and sent him sprawling. By the time he had managed to get up, the magical vendor had already packed up and left.
When he reached the group of people that had previously surrounded the stand, he heard several murmurs of “stolen” and “gone”. When he inquired as to the culprit, several people said that there had been three people who had left the stall only a few moments before the vendor had started shouting: an elderly lady with her husband a youth in dark clothing. Caelan immediately suspected the latter one, and remembered the figure he had seen in the alley. Could it possibly be one of the theifs? Caelan decided that it would be better to try and find the theif than to just stand around, so he started back against the crowded square to find the place the mysterious figure had occupied only minutes before.
Caelan steped into the alley and had enough time to indentify one of the two figures as the right hand man of the High Thief, the blind master criminal who orcestrated many of the city’s illegal activities, before two throwing knivies shot towards him. One scratched his cheek and the other buried itself in his left shoulder.
A gasp of pain, barely audible, came from the youth’s direction. Advancing on him, Caelan was pushed over fiercely and suddenly found himself pinned to the ground by 3 young boys, maybe 11 years old. Here could here some voices. “Are you all right Terenika?” Asked what Caelan understood to be another one of the boys. “I’m alright, but I need to see someone who can fix this.” a female voice answered.
”What should we do with him?” asked one of the boys holding his wrists.
”Knock him out and leave him somewhere.” Replied the girl whom Caelan assumed must be Terenika. He felt something hit his head. Dark.
He gasped. It felt as though an icy lance of pain had plunged into him. He managed to fumble his whistle out and blow twice, before he dropped it in a haze. A strange numbness spread out from the point of impact, darkening his vision until he finally fell into merciful unconsciousness.

A wiry, ginger-haired boy stepped out of a shadowed alcove in the wall, holding another knife at the ready.
One of the men turned. “Thank you, Terenika,” he said. “You have proved yourself invaluable once again.”
His oily tone grated on Terenika’s nerves, but the boy refrained from making a sarcastic comment. It didn’t pay to mess with the High Thief’s inner circle.
He kept his tone deferential as he stepped out of the alcove and retrieved his knives. “Red mamba venom, straight from the islands of Pori,” he said. “But it’s diluted. He’ll wake up in two minutes, with no memory of the incident.”
”Then let’s get going,” said the man. He was small and thin, but Terenika knew him well enough to be certain that there was no mercy in his soul. “The Watch will be here before he wakes up.”
The thieves paid Terenika 6 Kentos for the magic disk. That should be enough to keep her going for a month or two.
As she headed back to her apartment, she thought. In the past few months, there had been a very high demand for magical items, among the nobles as well as the theives. Almost everything she had brought Guthrim, the High Theif’s second in command, had been worthless. But they had paid lavashly. It seemed as if they were searching for something.
Terenika felt a surge of ambition as she slipped a hand through her hair. She couldn’t afford too many more stealths in the knot of time she had come to power in Aprinleaf (month equivalent), but it seemed like the merchants depended on her cunning to keep the discovery–and pawning–of magical artifacts running smoothly. Of course, like any good thief–stealing, risking, and selling was her life but it couldn’t be for long because of one word, Jagu. Jagu was the highest of the high in the throne of nobles. He knew more about magic than any of the magicals combined. So why didn’t merchants come to him? A very interesting reason indeed. For somebody like Jagu, he obivously kept a second identity. Although his first as the all-knowing magical was splendid enough, he couldn’t resist the call to fame in his second life. Instead of being a magical, he decided to become a fighter, stealing into the suppoosed headquarters, that sadly, were a trap by the City Watch. They had imprisoned him, but he had escaped. Obivously, when you escape from law, you hide. And the problem was, Terenika or any of the other thieves didn’t know where he was. Without Jagu, the had no idea how to fight things of higher levels–and slowly but surely, many of great thieves died as the ring of self-protecting magical items created in the long-last past killed them one by one. Sure, why wouldn’t a thief simply be humble and stay with dinky things like self-tying shoelaces or a flying hezmoir? Thief and humility? The words are like magnets turned to the opposite sides–repelling each other and never sticking for anything. Thiefs drank from the cup of greed, and they refilled it and refilled it until the day that they died. For the day you steal something–maybe the most trivial of things, like everything else pleasurable you want to do it again and again for it endlessly benifits you. Terenika wanted to do better than the other thieves but, as she tapped the unawaked City Watch, she couldn’t without this worthless, smelly, Janu person. She gave the man a good kick and his body flopped over. With that, she walked away into the depth of the city.
Teranika wandered towards one of the less pleasent parts of town and stopped in front of a ranshackle old building. She walked through the front hall and up the stairs and then unlocked the apartment door. Once again she looked upon the simple furnishings. There was a heap of discarded matresses that resided in one corner, serving as bedding. On the far wall, there was a drafty window, and to the right of that there was a rickety, old dresser. On top of the dresser was a clumsily framed letter. It had been from her mother, coming a few days after Teranika had been notified of her disappearence. She had been returning from a trip to some distant land and had inexplicably vanished on the way home. Teranika had waited for several years near their old home (it had been taken as soon as she had run out of the funds to keep it) hoping that someday her mother would walk through the door and give her one of those huge smiles that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Instead, each day had only brought hunger and realization that she was deeper in debt than she could ever pay. She somehow escaped the numerous people she owed money and broke into one of the unowned buildings. Teranika had chosen the only room with a working lock and an unbroken window to reside in. She never accepted charity, and would never bring her pride down to groveling before the people who regularly brought bread and water to the area. Instead she began to work in a rather less erspectable way to earn her food and drink; stealing. She knew little about the reason everyone wanted magical items, but resolved to find out. If those items were really as important as the others made them seem, then the more she had, the better. Teranika opened the botton dwarer of the dresser and pried off a false bottom. Inside were several small trinkets, each of them glowing faintly. Each time she went on a job, she took more than was rodered and kept the surplus. Teranika did not know the specific uses of each one, but she knew that someone else would pay a high price to get them.
Caelan woke up in a grimy alley. His head was throbbing, and a sharp, shooting pain pounded through his left shoulder. Sergeant Finlay was bending over him. “Officer, what do you call this?”
”Wh-what do you mean?” Caelan replied shakily.
”We hear your whistle blowing, so I dispatch two men to find out what happened. We find you lying down here outside Argent Square, stone cold senseless. What happened?”
Caelan thought. He had come into Argent Square, and then- and then- His memory blurred into haze at that point. “I don’t know, sir.”
”And what do you mean by that?” The Sergeant’s voice had gone dangerously quiet. Caelan knew from experience that this happened just before he burst into full-throated rage. Finlay’s shouts had been known to deafen dogs two blocks away.
Sergeant Finay continued to stare at him expectantly, and then, in a tone chillier than Caelan thought possible, he slowly repeated “What do you mean by that?” Caelan shakily opened his mouth to respond but was quickly interrupted. “What you mean,” roared the Sergeant “is that you let whoever stole an important item get away! What you mean is that you are incompetent enough to let petty theives knock out YOU, an Officer of the Watch, and get away with it!” Sergeant Finlay was fuming now, spittle flying from his mouth, and the redness of his face exceding even that of the robbed merchant. Half-formed images were forming in his head now, despite Finlay’s shouting. A murmering group, being tripped in the crowd, and then….nothing. He had no idea what had happened. Something from his training for the Watch, only a few years ago, was nagging at the back of his mind. There were different poisons that could be used on you, and they did different things. He could have been poisoned, but how? They could have done it while he was unconcious, but what would have knocked hime out?
Caelan was still lying on his back, half-listening to Finlay’s ranting and raving. He started trying to sit up, but immediately fell backwards when he felt an excruciating pain in his left shoulder. A breif memory came back to hime; two flying knives, one embedded in his shoulder. He reached to the place the knife should have been, and found that it was not there. The theives ahd not immediately fled after wounding hime, so they might have taken other things too. He searched through his pockets to see if anything was missing, and, thankfully, discovered that everything was in order. It would be even more humiliating if Seargent Finlay found out that he had been robbed as well.
“But-” Caelan started to say.
”But NOTHING!” roared his superior. “You are on KITCHEN DUTY until FURTHER NOTICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now come on back to the station. And try to look like a half-decent Watchman, though I know it will strain your acting skills.”
Finlay had already turned to leave. Caelan struggled to get up from his lowly position, but his shoulder was practically screaming with pain. The thin scab cracked and the wound reopened with a spurt of blood. It was only then that Finlay realized that he was wounded and bound the wound before pulling Caelan onto his feet and forcing him to stumble back to headquarters.
Terenika slammed the drawer shut and crossed to the window, looking out over the Dales beyond Wandstadt. Though the rolling green hills seemed peaceful enough, anyone with a grain of sense knew that they were hives of brigands and cutthroats. When the Three Kingdoms collapsed, Wandstadt was one of the few city-states that survived amid the chaos. Beyond the few aldens of Wandstadt farmland, there were no laws.
He seemed to be an earnest sort, but, of course, clueless about anything that was really important. It wasn’t really his fault, anyway. Just like her, he was doing whatever he could to survive. Of course, his problems were not nearly as pressing as her own. She sighed, her breath fogging up the dusty window, and realized that, maybe, they had treated the poor lad unfairly. But, then, the hard shield over her conscience that her time on the streets forced her to develop propelled that thought away, into the dark recesses of her mind.
An ear-peircing scream came from outside Terenika’s window. A large man, maybr 6 and a half feet tall, held a knife to a merchants throat as the surronding crowd did nothing but watch.
She flew away from the bedpost shoved the window up and stared. The merchant! No. They were supposed to sell to the merchants, not kill them! She dashed to her cloak and flew, as fast as a night bat, down the hallway of her house, which was so small it took hardly any time to reach the door. She slammed it open and jogged to the scene, hands flailing, the merchant took a slight peek at her, and then returned to gaze into his threatener’s eyes.
“You sell it to me, scum, or I sell your soul to death!”
A pang of fear was obivous as the man’s tongue licked his lips.
”I c-couldn’t sir,” he said feebily, lifting his arms. “You see, I have a debt on my–”
“Your house, i suppose. The house that you don’t have. You are a merchant, and I am not stupid. Both of us know very well what you have, I saw him give it to you. Paper bags do not hide to more than stupid eyes.”
“P-please…”
Terenika couldn’t take anymore. Even at the age of 14, she was powerful and easily could take on somebody–well, at least she hoped. But unlike you or I might have done, she acted well like a thief would. Slipping like a beetle through the crowd, she inched up into she could’ve taken him to dagger’s point, and then she gave a quick tug, and in the same second drawing up to full height.
“Wuh, huh?” He cried, jumping around, the dagger only whizzing past the merchant’s throat. The merchant took advantage of the situation to grab a brown papered item from his cart and dash away full speed. Without even giving the girl a proper look. But Terenika had sawn his face. She knew it, she knew it well, she just couldn’t place it…
It was in the caverns she had seen them, yes, in the caverns….
Janu!
But she couldn’t call after him! She had to keep her discovery to herself. If the other thieves learned, they’d knock her aside like a badly earthed rock.
Her only choice was a dire one…she had to run too.
***********************
The squidging sound of the mop seemed to provide a dismal soundtrack for Caelan’s misery. Up and down the Mess Hall he trudged, pushing it in front of him and carrying a bucket of soapy water that slopped onto his once-dry boots with every step. Fuming, he swore revenge on the knife-thrower for the umpteenth time.
A herd of other, favored watchmen passed by, grinning widely at Caelan’s predicament. Then, the man in the very front of the group slyly kicked over the bucket. It fell to the cobbled stone with a clang, sending soap suds and lukewarm water every which way.
It splashed everywhere
Sergeant Finlay, who had just walked into the hall, slipped on the water and fell to the ground.
He stumbled into a standing position, sputtering. Caelan groaned. The sergeant had been wearing his best dress tunic, which almost always meant that he was on the way to meet someone important.
”Fool boy!” He growled. “I had an appoinment with one of the city councilmen! Now look what you’ve done!”
Caelan looked scared and turned away. Sergeant Finlay stalked away, looking furious and swearing under his breath.
Caelan didn’t care. he just splashed more on.
”Look what you’ve done now, boy! I have to go change!” said the Sergeant. “I’ll have to run because–”
but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Sure enough *splat* he had fallen on the ground again.
the sargeant said to caelan “thats it! you have one chane and then you will be fired.”
Caelan was a little worried but not much, after all, Sergeant Finlay always threatened people. Sergeant slipped away, trying to keep his balance. Caelan snickered a little. He thought ‘Well, it’s not every day you get to see a man of importance sliding around a floor wet.’ Sergeant looked back and smiled at Caelan, with a smile so evil, it sent chill’s up Caelan’s back.
“Well then, you don’t seem to care about your job any longer, you are fired.”
Caelan simply stood where he was, staring in disbelief.
Caelan was shoved into his room and ordred to pack his belongings. They had, generously, provided him with a few more sets of civilian clothes and a sparse amount of money.
Caelan felt odd in his new, stiff tunic. Although it was made from the coarsest, cheapest homespun in the market, he had not worn the clothes of civilians for a while. He grabbed his small haversack, and glanced around the cell-like room one last time. It was completely bare, except for the cot that he had slept upon, and the washstand that was fastened upon the wall.
It was all that girl’s fault, he thought. She was the one who caused me to loose my place, here. Maybe I’ll find her, and bring her to justice. And, then, maybe I’ll get my place back! I might even be promoted!”
Fired with new purpose, despite having been fired in another sense, Caelan left the Watch station with a spring in his step. Once he reached the street, however, he realized he had no idea what to do. He sat down on a convenient bench to think it over.
****************
Terenika sat up suddenly and looked down the road. That Watchman that she had felled had apparently been kicked out. He was inconspicuous, but strong. Clumsy, but she thought he might be good at providing cover, if she could recruit him.
She quickly but cautiously stalked towards him, trying not to attract the attention of any of the oblivious passerby. Just as she neared the rough bench, she realized, belatedly, that this might be some trap set up by one of the senior guardspeople, or, maybe, the young man himself. She drew her dagger, for protection. Caelan, hearing the rasp of metal against her crude sheath, spun around to see Terenika approackhing him, holding a knife…
caelan yelled and then terenika said” ok so its not a trap ” caelen said “huh who are you?”
Caelan ducked and kicked out wildly. He slipped off the bench and knocked it over.
”Definitely too clumsy for delicate work,” Terenika muttered, but she was relieved. If it had been a trap, he would have given some sort of signal.
Caelan looked up at the girl. She seemed somehow familiar to him, and he had a vague feeling that he should hate her for something (which was irrational, because she seemed nice). “Who are you?” he asked.
”Come over here,” she said. “What I have to say isn’t something that people should overhear.”
Caelan was puzzled, but he followed her down a narrow gap between two crumbling brick buildings.
Terenika stopped about halfway down the gap. “Listen,” she said. “You were just kicked out of the Watch. No family, no home, am I correct?”
Caelan bristled. “Just who are you, exac-” Terenika interrupted him. “Hear me out! I have a job for you. Pays well, good benefits-” she smiled a secretive grin as she toyed with her satchel of magical trinkets-“and you might get a chance to get back at the guy who fired you.”
Caelan hesitated. The prospect was alluring, but he had a nagging feeling that he shouldn’t take it.
“Listen,” Whispered Terenika. “I’ll just tell you a bit about it. You don’t have to take my proposal afterwards, but just hear me out.”
”Fine.” Caelan grunted.
Terenika continued, her eyes alight. “The Organization first got together about six years ago. Ever since the Three Kingdoms fell, the few city-states that didn’t descend into chaos- Wandstadt, for instance- began locking up any remaining magical artifacts. People became scared of magic, when once they used it every day. Some, however, knew better, and wanted to get their hands on any magic still around. The Organization supplies that. We- ahem- liberate the artifacts from the museums and private collections, and sell them to a select clientele. I joined back in Aprinleaf.” She didn’t go on to mention why she’d joined. She kept the tragic secret of her mother’s disappearance to herself.
Caelan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This girl was asking him- who’d been an officer of the Watch ten minutes ago- to join the biggest crime ring in the history of the Three Kingdoms or afterwards.
caelen said yes.
Later, when he had time to think, to consider what he had done, he wondered exactly how he had found himself accepting. It was odd, really. But it was too late, then…
“Magnficent!” Terenika exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, we even bury you, if you end up being caught by the Guard!”
Caelan groaned, and closed his eyes in disbelief of what he had just agreed to do.
It was getting later into the day, and Caelan had to find a place to stay before nightfall. Terenika led him back to the area she, and many others in the Aprinleaf, lived. There was an abandoned house a few doors down from Terenikas that was in reasonably good condition. All of the windows on the first floor were broken, and so was the front door, but the upper level looked habitable. When Caelan asked about the papers and paying, Terenika said “If anyone pays, it should be the people resonsible for kicking so many good people into these parts. We should be payed to live here, so there’s no reason we should pay them to live in the city’s dumps.”
Caelen trudged up the rickety staircase, contemplating what Terenika had said. Most of the people here were poor because of the government. Many of them had run out of money because of lost jobs or increased taxes. Before, he had always believed that his job had been a good one. He had been forced to start training ant age five, and didn’t remember much about his family. He remembered that his father had left, and that he had had an older sister, but nothing more. He was used to being alone. He had few freinds before, and now he didn’t have any. Unless, he counted Terenika, which seemed rather unlikely from their first meeting. Or was it there first? He kept on feeling that he’d seen her somewhere beofre, and that he had heard that name………
Caelan turned around, shaking off the silly thoughts. “Anywhere I can get dinner?” he asked.
Terenika pondered his question, then said, “Tell you what. Since it’s your first day, and you haven’t got a salary yet, I’ll give you a few irrins ((about a thousandth of a Kento)) to purchase something. There’s a inn down the block where the weevils have only infested one barrel of flour.”
”Weevils? You’re kidding, right?”
”I wish I was. I wasn’t joking when I told you this was a bad neighborhood.”
Caelan shook his head in exasperation, but still walked towards the direction Terenika had pointed. Returning to his earlier train of thought, he once again considered whether or not Terenika was someone to be trusted. She had greeted him with an unsheathed knife, but was still kind enough to find him shelter, loan him money, and direct him to someplace he could find food.
He entered through the inn’s front enterance; an old wooden door that seemed to be several sizes too small for the jamb. behind the counter was a thin, wiriy man with a face that slighty resembled that of one of the rats that ran under the counter when Caelen entered the place. He cautiosly approached the counter.
”How much can I get for four irrins?” he inquired.
”Not much, sonny.” replied the man behind the counter. His voice was low, but slightly nasaly also. “But you could get a lot more with that thing around your neck.”
Caelen reached up for the chain, feeling its slim coolness run through his fingers, and pulled over his head. It was a medal he had won a few years back, a rare occasion in the training school. Awards were hardly ever given out, save for special circumstances. He had been given it for beating his own teacher in hand-to-hand combat, an accomplishment worthy of noting. He bounced ot lightly in his hand, trying to decide whether or not it was worth a supply of food.
caelen said “no,but if i can beet you in a fight will you give me food? ‘the baker said “thats to easy.” caelen haert was sank.
At that moment, a man who had been sitting near the counter got up and started walking towards them. Caelan turned to watch him, still clutching the medallion in his hand.
The man was tall, taller than anyone else in the inn. He had long, dark hair and a strong chin. He was wearing a heavy fur coat, held in place by a wide belt, upon which was hanging a sword. His pants and boots were made of a material that, upon closer observation, proved to be dragonhide.
He had muscular arms and walked with an easy step that somehow gave Caelan the impression that he could easily change it, adopting a position perfect for decapitating people.
The man walked up to them. Caelan was suddenly aware that everyone in the inn was staring at them.
”Jembo,” he said, addressing the innkeeper, “last time I checked you were handing out beds for an irrin a night. Now don’t take this boy’s medal away for your greed!”
Jembo glanced at Caelan, who had stuffed his medallion back down his shirt and was glaring at the innkeeper. Then he muttered an assent and handed a key to Calean.
”Well, that’s settled then. Come with me, lad!” the man pulled Caelan over to his table.
”You were lucky. Jembo won’t hesitate to invent inflation rates to suit his needs.” said the man in an amiable tone.
”Yes…” said Caelan, “but why did you help me out?”
The man looked at him for a moment. “My name’s Sigmund. I recognized the medal. I had one too… for defeating my teacher in swordsmanship.”
caelan said “You are in the gaurd!?” “was ,boy,was.I made a tiny slip-up,was assind kichen duty,and then the conmander fired me.I meet some one .they gave me room to sleep.then they were killed by some gaurds.I took up selter here.”sigmund said with a siagh.
Caelan didn’t reply. Something drew him to this large, dangerous-looking stranger. Perhaps he would be good in this Organization, or whatever Terenika calls it. “Where are you from?” he asked.
”Up in Skarjandr.” Sigmund paused, then continued: “It’s a beautiful land… Wide tundras stretch to both ends of the horizon; the oceans are white and clear… I lived in a town up north, near the Kraki mountains. My father was a court poet to our king, Halfdane the Red. He taught me the art in the hope that I would one day be a poet in the favour of kings as well… But I had a natural talent for the sword, and an affinity with animals shared by no other in my town. The king, Björn Bjarki, who had the finest mead-hall in the land, gave me a position among his warriors when I was 12. I killed my first man when I was 14. A fellow warrior, under the influence of spirits, insulted me and my family. I killed him… The king cast me out, but his family was not content, and initiated a blood-feud against my family. My father was killed… And so I travelled south, until I reached a town were they drafted me into the guard. One day, during training, I defeated and struck down my teacher. I was given a medal and assigned to kitchen duty.” Sigmund paused to take a long drink.
”Why are you telling me this?” asked Caelan.
Sigmund pondered for a moment, then replied: “For no other reason than that I sense an affinity with you, and that the Norns, who weave the fabric of time, must have set our meeting as fated.”
Caelan stared at Sigmund. “Why aren’t you with the guard now?” he asked.
”I got into a fight with my superior, a man called Finlay, and would have killed him had I not been held back… Then they threw me out. I was 16.” replied Sigmund.
”I know Finlay!” exclaimed Caelan “I’ve had some problems with him too…”
”Then we were most definitely fated to meet.” said Sigmund in a low voice. “Do you have an occupation, boy?”
“Er… ” Caelan paused. He thought about the events of the day, before deciding that he did, in fact, work for the Organization. “Yes, I do. I can’t really talk about it here, but if you’re interested, my… associate… will give you some information.” His head was spinning. From what he’d heard of Skarjandr, it was filled with bloodthirsty murderers. But, of course, that description could also be applied to the lands outside Wandstadt, and Sigmund seemed pleasant enough, in the sense that he was excellent to have as a friend, but not so nice to have as an enemy.
”Good.” Sigmund turned to the door. “I’m out of work at the moment. Do you think your associate would have a place for me?”
Terenika was sitting on the cot in her room when Caelan barged in. He immediately smashed into the dresser, almost knocking out the secret drawer with the amulets, tripped over his own feet, and bashed his head on the projecting windowsill. It’ll take a lot of training to get him ready for silent work, Terenika thought grimly.
Caelan picked himself up from the floor and dusted off his clothing, trying to retain a bit of dignity, despite his throbbing head. He drew a breath to begin to explain about Sigmund, but Terenika cut him off.
”Now, I suppose you call that a silent entry.”
Shocked by the dose of venom in her voice, he started “I….”
But Tereniak spoke again. “If you ever want to succeed at your new job, you are going to need to start training, and fast. If you are incompetent at your assignment, or fail it completely, it is likely someone would murder you, simply for the fact that you risked their being uncovered and that you could leak information to the Watch. Mind that, because your being on the Watch previouly will repel customers. It’s best that you put all that behind.”
Caelan once again thought of that little medal around his neck that made him so absurdly proud not so long ago. Put it all behind? Everything he had worked for since he was barely able to walk? Then, he remembered how Sigmund still remembred that little award that meant so much, and realized that, though he would cerainly have to cover it up, he could never completely leave the past. It was part of him.
Then, bringing the thought of Sigmund foremost into his mind, Caelan, for the third time, tried to get a word in edgewise. But once Terenika saw him preparing to speak again, she immediately presumed it was a complaint, and stopped him from speaking with a raised hand.
”If you don’t think that you can handle the job, then leave.”
With a burst of frustration, he yelled out “I’m not saying I’m incompetent! I’m trying to tell you a few things I found out at the store today! If you’d stop speaking so much, you might actually find that I have some useful information!”
Temporarily suprised by the shouting, Terenika was silent. She then gave him permission to report what he had learned, and Caelan began to relay his trip that was only made to buy some food, but turned out to bring some much more valuable items.
Sigmund sat in his corner, mulling over the previous events that evening. If Caelan could get him a steady position in the city, it would be a big step towards his return home.
Sigmund sighed, as his thoughts drifted towards his homeland in the north. He recalled the wide, unending plains, the great forests, the many lakes, the beautiful mountain ranges…
He was jerked out of his reverie by the sight of a group of men entering the inn. They stopped in front of the desk and began talking to Jembo. The old innkeeper was sweating and fumbling with his greasy sleeves.
Sigmund sat alert, watching the men across the room and straining his ears for snatches in the conversation.
”Tall fellow, quite muscular…”
”Brown eyes, maybe you’ve seen him…?”

great! I just post part two, And it won’t post. I’ll get to it soon.
TMFA, just a q: Why do you always take out the paragraph breaks?
91- that just happened when I posted it.
A few questions: Okay, so Caelan and Terenika run out into the snow, Caelan in teleported back into the burning building by Fafnir?
What is the water spirit thing getting revenge for?
What did Aodhan do in the beginning again? I think I was the one who put him in, but I’ve quite honestly forgotten. He was captured by the High Theif, and then set free by Caelan, but I don’t remember why he was captured. Help?
Okay, actual writing here.
Tereinika turned the corner to find a writhing mass of skeletons, seemingly centered on a sliver of light that sliced about two figures, made smaller by the sheer size of the group surrounding them. “Of course”, though Terenika nervously “Always in the center of the trouble.” Suddenly, there with a loud cry, Caelan and Aodhan burst out from the muddle, headed straight for her with an army of vengeful undead right behind.
The three of them tuned around and fled, Terenika in the lead towards the previous location of Sigmund. They raced down the narrow streets, watching as shutters opened and rapidly closed above them, their owners shocked by the sight below, hoping it was no more than a nightmare. The three of them, fortunately, had a good start on the skeletons, outmatching thier shambling gait by sheer terror-induced adrenaline. They turned into the street where Sigmund had been minutes before. Now, the surrounding houses were in complete shambles; none of them were so much as recognizable as formerly habitable places. Sigmund was no longer there. Suddenly, there was a great plume of flame the next street over. The trio went cautiosly, but quickly, towards the sound, and looked towards it’s source.
Ooh! Yay! You’re back!
I’m afraid I can’t answer any of those questions. I’m basically floundering in a story I dopn’t know here.
First question: Yes.
Second: For being imprisoned in a stupid otter statue for twenty years.
Third: I don’t know why he was captured. That was never explained.
95- he was a guard, and got captured. duh.
I think there was something about double crossing, I’m trying to rack my memory for more. He was doing some sort of deal with the Organization concerning magical artifacts, but was actually going to turn them in to the Watch, but that was found out via spies and he was imprisoned. We need to slip that in somewhere, or else Aodhan’s being captured will make no sense at all.
I should reread this. A nice alternative to doing my homework, don’t you think?
98 – Most defenitely. Enjoy!
100th comment, but I can’t think of anything to write. Plot ideas, anyone? Character background? Any ideas at all? And sorry for the double post. Please help out.
Caelan rounded the street corner and gasped in astonishment. A blackened crater was gently smoking in the center of the cobbled road.
A dark figure blotted out the eerie orange light momentarily, then came closer and revealed itself to be Sigmund. His eyebrows were somewhat singed. “I’m not sure what that was. It’s probable that all of the recent arcane disturbances caused a buildup of magical energy. If that’s the case, Wandstadt will probably be seeing a few more of those.”
Oy! People! Post here, por favor!
“Not to mention that we have to deal with the skeletons Rana raised,” Terenika said.
“Actually, that may be more of a problem than I first supposed,” Sigmund said. “With Rana dead, the only thing controlling those skeletons is the White Scourge. Normally, that would mean that the spell would end- but there seem to be some vestiges of Rana’s magic holding them together. Diseases have only one purpose in life: to spread. I don’t think this bodes well for us- or anyone in Wandstadt.”
PLEASE COME HERE, PURPLEFINCH, TMFA, ALICE, KIARA AND FRIGIDSYMPHONY IF YOU’RE AROUND! I NEED HELP!
“oh no. look!” said caelan.
“wht the?”
the walls of the city had crumbled. the people of the countryside had come in. and they were mindless, people of the scourge, but with something else…
104- wow. I have never seen you write in all caps.
105- I think that part needs a little expansion… but kudos to you for coming back!
I’ll work on it later. Got to catch up on stuff.
106- I check all the RRR theards daily! I am always here!
104 – sry, .
However, they were at a loss as to what they could do to stop the plague. Without Rana’s command, the skeletons had dispersed throughout the city, undoubtedly speading the Scourge as they spoke.Sigmund was exhausted; he had spent the last several hours battling with a god, there was no way he would be able to destroy each of the skeletons and dispose of the bones safely in his current condition.
Terenika and Caelan, however, had no idea how to do work large magics, thogh they were slightly better off than Sigmund at the moment. They couldn’t put off getting rid of the skeletons. If they did, the entire city would be infected by morning. But they also knew that they couldn’t do much if they were falling asleep on their feet.
The three companions ruefully made their way back towards Terenika’s house, ocasionally fading into the shadows to avoid the sporatic appearences of the diseased skeletons. Upon arriving, Terenika promptly jammed a chair against the door, preventing he entry of any wandering pestilence. Sigmund and Caelan fell asleep immedaitely, while Terenika, tired though she was, stared out the window and worried about what the next day would bring.
I’m so sorry I haven’t been on here in forever!
And I’m so sorry that I don’t have anything to write.
110- We’re all doing NaNo… except for Kiara, apparently. Sorry, K, don’t feel forsaken! We’ll all be back in November!
I meant December.
I’ll be back in two days. I have a great idea. It mentions earlier that Sigmund was once in the Watch, but got thrown out by Finlay. What I was thinking was to have Finlay meet his former student and be completely intimidated by him (obviously.)
112- ha!
Caelan woke up, and yawned. Then he remembered what had happened the previous day, and shut his mouth with a snap, leaped off the bed and grabbed his sword from where it had been leaning against the nightstand.
Terenika was still asleep, but Sigmund had gotten up and was looking out the window. “Not as bad as it could have been,” he said, without turning around, “but there’s a development I think you should see.”
OK, I can’t write now, but my idea is that there’s this huge gap in the walls surrounding Wandstadt, which is causing enormous panic among the populace.
Okay. Maybe I can write later.
well. almost a year old. the least productive RRR in 2007.
117- Not so. The school one might have been less productive. Or the time travel one.
118- for posts/time/story.