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 The Ebbing Time - Riders ... Open 
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 36
Location: Langford Village Bedfordshire England
Post The Ebbing Time - Riders ... Open
Prologue ...

A slight mist had began to rise from the damp fern covering of the forest floor, now some two feet thick, the dense canopy above relentlessly dripped its condensed moisture upon my head, amidst the dull gloom of this February morning the heat here in the far south of Maxim still reached the nineties well before mid day.
An Elvan Forester had to keep two sets of clothing in conditions like this the humidity here was near one hundred percent mid summer and mid day even in February the air could prove stifling, the baking sun rarely penetrated the dense canopy above, trying to stay dry in such heat and humidity proved fruitless, you could get wet just standing still, this has caught many unwary adventurer out as wet cloths became more of a hindrance as the sun set.
At night the temperature would drop rapidly chilling the bones of wet travellers, cold sores, wear sores and trench foot common in these parts, this was not the terrain of heavily clad Droben NuFash or Knights of the Eastern realms the land of the Humans.
These southern Forest, set at the feet of the Red Mountains beat to the sound of the Elven drum, it’s fern covered flooring partially broken by narrow pathways winding their way between the towering hulks of timber that seemed to stretch out skyward,
disappearing into a thick film of moister hanging like a cloud layer above your head.

My childhood years had been spent far from these leafy valleys, far to the East, the pastures of central maxim situated on the edge of the great river that runs through this land like an artery on it’s banks the small market town of Riiser.
I spent most of my years fishing those bank, not ever to any success may I add, but I have some fond memories.

In my later years my parents and reluctantly myself moved to the south, looking for warmer climbs and the golden city of Farad and the teaching of the old ones, weather we found what we were looking for, which is questionable, is something for a family gathering, a gossip over a family roast.
On the south East coast, that was were I was first schooled by the Elven scholars,
those years had seemed to drag on for an eternity but still seem so far away now, I am ‘The Dark’ I may have been know as many other names, know as a scholar, as adventurer and historian to the great books, it sounds a majestic title but in reality ... not so I’m afraid it’s far more tedious.
A Worrier King, master of my own realm, that is my true vocation, schooling had never been of any interest to me, unless they were schooling in the arts of war, they seemed so intriguing, so exciting and so much a part of my destiny, so much a part of me.

Ten year had passed and I found myself within these leafy valley’s just before my thirtieth birthday, a second to a small party of archaeologists, searching for an old elvan tribe who had been mentioned within the pages of the great books. My patients was never one of my better qualities, if I ever had any to start with but once in the presence of these tedious grey bearded old men I found my calling to the scriptures some what pointless.
Stumbling around an equatorial jungle hoping to find a sign, any sign, an indication of anything but wet ferns or sodden earth, had proved as difficult as my companions I relentlessly searched with, this was not for me, there was a better life, a more for filling life awaiting me.

The stern faced druids left five years ago now, I chose to stay behind, try to find my true calling, to find my Elan roots, within our ancestors homeland, that’s what I told them.
In truth, I had no desire to spend the rest of my long life searching for answers, for sign’s and reading out dated philosophes.
Sometimes when I muse over those times it’s with some fondness, laughter but never joy, I can’t help feeling sorry for them and my self if not for myself.

I remember just being glad I was within the forests, here at last, I felt that the journey had just begun, I mused perhaps those years weren’t wasted, perhaps they were the pathway to the true destiny that awaited me ... I wish I knew then what I know now.

Present time ...

I sit a little despondent, why, the evening had seemed to drag, yesterday I had sent a forest man into the savanna with a message for The Riders.
I had not heard from my fellow guild brothers or sisters for some time, the last scribe was from Berekynthia, a mighty sister, a allie I was proud off.
I understood her concern regarding the offensive qualities, and had adjusted to comply with her request and her requirements.

“Sir I have a Scribe from our sisters in the East”. A young Elvan scout run in to the tent, eagre to reveal his message, his most precious treasure.

This was a good day, this was, although at this time, unknown to me the most significant point within my journey of life, within the journey of Maxim.

This was the beginning, a beginning for 'The Dar.k'.

Thu Nov 14, 2002 2:54 pm
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 36
Location: Langford Village Bedfordshire England
I looked across an open part of the forest, a small clearing known as ‘Devils Brook’
Not really knowing how long I had been there, pondering the scribe brought to me earlier.
The scribe had talked of a war in the East with a faction known as ‘Sanctum Officium’ their thieves and wizards had begun to ravage our villages, their forces had very little effect on my own boarders, yet some damage had been done to the other sisters and brothers.
This news had not pleased me, in my absents, here in the southern forests my boarders had been threatened by heathens, my villagers had been slaughtered by some foul magic and my treasury looted by unseen thieves. I mused over what fools would have done this, knowing what would await them in return surely the knew the flag of my country, surely they now knew the terrible vengeance waiting for them.

I would now return East with some urgency, I will scribe my allie’s, the heathens would now be slaughtered for their incompetence.
I rose to my feet, turned and beaconed to Elvan messenger, who was still waiting patiently for my response.
"My man”. I beaconed the waif like Elf. “What is your name?”.
“Thalrine my lord”. The messenger replied.
“I wish you to take my response to the other Riders Thalrine”.
“It would be an honour lord Dark”.
The message was short but concise, to the point, I was unhappy with the heathen threat and as Isonia was my witness I would reap my vengeance upon them, by the hand of the Droben kings their blood will spill from the crazed gods bowl.
“Lord do you wish anything else?”. I pondered his words for the last time. “No my friend, go now take my news to our sisters”. With that he turned and appeared to vanish in to the deep greens of the ferns and the browns of the timber giants.
I had much to do I would ready myself, gather my possessions, say my fare wells and start my trek to the east, I secretly hoped that a few would follow me back to the Rider home lands, but in reality I knew these forest folk had no time for the hustle and bustle or the throng of the big cities or the open expanse of the plains, they did though share my love of war that offered a small glimmer of hope.

Come the night
Come The Dark

Tue Nov 19, 2002 2:54 pm
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 36
Location: Langford Village Bedfordshire England
“Dark”. The forest is never truly silent, not to the finely tuned ears of a forest ranger, but I am no Ranger, on the other hand Malak was.

“Ah! Malak my friend, how long have you been there?”.

“Too long Out Lander”. Malak appeared from the leafy wall of green just behind me.

“It seemed like bad news Dark?”. His tall slender frame stooping below a low hanging branch, he extended his left arm and lifted it above his head, in his right hand, his bow.
Malak looks as any Ranger would be expected to look, a little taller than most, his brown and green camouflaged shall donate his trade and roots, of the Rose family his trade was all but destined at birth.

“Bad news it was my friend, my people in the East need their leader at their side, forces loyal to the devil god Darden have threatened my boarders, their thieves have stabbed my civilians to death in their beds as they sleep and pilfered my treasury
but as yet my defences have withstood any of their armies”.

“This is not good news Dark”. Malak had an uncanny knack of stating the obvious.

“I feel my people, my armies and most annoyingly myself Malak, have become complacent over this year of peace that we have savoured, I now believe that the reputation and honour that has taken decades of struggle always under the shadow of war, have been lost within a mere year of peace”. I turned to Malak, whom was now crouched before me, a typical stance for a Ranger standing in one place for too long, low and inconspicious, out of sight nestled in the carpet of ferns around him.

Malak had been one of the first Foresters to befriend me when most barely tolerated my presence, although an Elf I would always be an outlander to them.
Malak seemed a brother, he had been there when the other left, when I got the news of my parents deaths or rather murders he had been there all along, Malak was a true friend.

“Dark, if it is the outlands were your heart is.... “.

“My heart is here Malak”. I turned to the small opening in the thick canopy once more.
“My heart is here Malak but my people are out there across Maxim and they need me by their side at this time”.

Malak looked to the floor, then peered up at me. “Then there is no question Dark you must return to your lands while they are still there, an army is no army without it’s leader just a collection of soldiers”.
I turned again to Malak, they were true words of wisdom.

“Then I must go, I must ready myself this night”. Not that there was ever any question that I wouldn’t, I just wanted to be reassured by my Elf brother Malak.

“Yes Dark I have much to do myself also”. I looked at Malak. “You do?” a slight thrown crossed my forehead. “Yes I have much to pack if I am to accompany you”.
I had hoped secretly that he would come but underneath I always knew he would, this day wasn’t so bad after all, I would still have a link to my true home land, in Malak.

Wed Nov 20, 2002 10:38 am
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