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Since the writers did not wish for a poll to decide their placements, we shall, instead, rate and rank. Below are the entries, along with the respective authors. Please read each one, and post comments about them here.
MistressImaire
The town of Tiem lay on the banks of Lake Farellhas, a charismatic town where fish and ale were always well stocked. Each night the biggest catch of the day was served in The Bear's Paw, the largest tavern for several miles. While townsfolk ate and celebrated, minstrels from all three nations sang and performed marvelous tricks with their individual powers. The ale from The Bear's Paw was also said to be the best in the Water Nation, and they even found a way to add their own Ferell fish to the brew (the delicious grey and pink fish that swam abundantly in Lake Farellhas).
It was late afternoon one day when Pael, daughter of the keeper of The Bear's Paw, scampered down the path to the water, still trying to tie a ribbon in her strawberry curls. She was to meet her beau by the docks when he came in on one of the fishing boats. She carefully made her way onto a slippery path of rocks next to the wooden planks, the water lapping against each stone. Pael was too busy admiring her new yellow dress to notice that the boats were late.
The sun had set when Pael grew worried. Not a single boat had docked, and dark clouds were coming fast from the west. Suddenly Pael noticed little black dots floating in the water. When they finally reached her, she gasped in horror.
Hundreds of dead Ferell fish bobbed quietly in the water, each one blacker than the last, and an odd mist swirled around the lot. Pael did not know whether or not to cry or to scream, but a dagger cut across her throat before she could do so, silencing her forever.
As she fell to the ground, her shadow stayed, swirling into a new form. The black on each fish began to assume a humanoid shape, and the mist dissapated. Men and women emerged from the fake shadows, dressed in black and silver armor with black stains spattered across their breastplates and shields. They were all very similar, having black, grey, or white hair, and slitted green eyes. The creature that had killed Pael was decorated with bones and the shells of insects, and her grey hair was similar to dreads, looking like molten silver against her pale skin. She held a staff with crystals growing out of it, their color of pale lightening on fall days. A broadsword was latched against her back, and she grinned, watching the people flee in terror, or gaze out of curiousity.
"Kill them all." Without a sound, each warrior became a cloud of shadow, attacking people quickly and without mercy.
The next morning, empty boats floated to shore, the fishing tools layed neatly in their hulls. Birds had consumed most of the dead fish, and the bones lay half buried in the sand. There was no blood, no pile of massacred bodies. There was only the hollow wind, and the shadows made by the buildings.
It was late afternoon one day when Pael, daughter of the keeper of The Bear's Paw, scampered down the path to the water, still trying to tie a ribbon in her strawberry curls. She was to meet her beau by the docks when he came in on one of the fishing boats. She carefully made her way onto a slippery path of rocks next to the wooden planks, the water lapping against each stone. Pael was too busy admiring her new yellow dress to notice that the boats were late.
The sun had set when Pael grew worried. Not a single boat had docked, and dark clouds were coming fast from the west. Suddenly Pael noticed little black dots floating in the water. When they finally reached her, she gasped in horror.
Hundreds of dead Ferell fish bobbed quietly in the water, each one blacker than the last, and an odd mist swirled around the lot. Pael did not know whether or not to cry or to scream, but a dagger cut across her throat before she could do so, silencing her forever.
As she fell to the ground, her shadow stayed, swirling into a new form. The black on each fish began to assume a humanoid shape, and the mist dissapated. Men and women emerged from the fake shadows, dressed in black and silver armor with black stains spattered across their breastplates and shields. They were all very similar, having black, grey, or white hair, and slitted green eyes. The creature that had killed Pael was decorated with bones and the shells of insects, and her grey hair was similar to dreads, looking like molten silver against her pale skin. She held a staff with crystals growing out of it, their color of pale lightening on fall days. A broadsword was latched against her back, and she grinned, watching the people flee in terror, or gaze out of curiousity.
"Kill them all." Without a sound, each warrior became a cloud of shadow, attacking people quickly and without mercy.
The next morning, empty boats floated to shore, the fishing tools layed neatly in their hulls. Birds had consumed most of the dead fish, and the bones lay half buried in the sand. There was no blood, no pile of massacred bodies. There was only the hollow wind, and the shadows made by the buildings.
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Kill Romantic
The town of Meindolt was calm and peaceful. At least from the outside. There were small fires blazing in the streets, as people wrapped cloaks around themselves, perusing around the streets, looking st shops or just going about on a walk. The sun was shinign bright, and not one cloud could be seen. Except one. It floated gently across the sky, passing in front of ths un. Instantly, the people of Meindolt went into a panic, grabbing small children and hiding in door ways that were flooded with light. They stood with bated breath until the cloud had passed away, making sure there was no more shadow left in the town.
Bartelby poured over his books, scanning the pages. He ran his hands over them, feeling the flowing texture of the ink. His nutbrown hair was combed back, and his brown tunic was clean and his slacks were immaculately clean, as if he had spent hours examining them for dirt. That was quite probable, though most people didn't expect much of him. He was only a blind elf after all. He was visiting his long time aquantince on business. "It's gone you know." He called out, his white eyes never leaving the page. A man crawled out from under a nearby table. "You're sure?" Bartelby nodded. "Positive." The man stood and walked over to Bartleby. "Have you found what you need to build my portable dispersal device yet, or haven't you?" Bartelby could tell he was twirling his blond hair again. He hated when he twirled his hair. At least if his hair had been red it would have made a slight singing noise. "Almost. Tell me again Eldran, why do need this again? And what's with this portable dispersal deivce s**t? It's called a bomb. Why do you need a light bomb?" Eldran bristled. "I told you, if we could several of these, fires would not even be needed. We could light the entire town for decades. We wouldn't have to rely on Izuma any longer. Think of the patriotism it could inspire." Bartelby just laughed. "Patriotism? Is that why the entire town goes into a panic, and you hide under a table, every time a cloud passes over the sun. It wasn't even that large of a cloud." Eldran grew angry and aimed a punch at Bartelby's head. Bartelby dodged, having suffered several blowd previously due to Eldran's temper. " Just build the damn...ouch!" cried Eldran as his fist came in contact with the wall. Bartelby sighed and picked up his books, heading for the door. "Where do you think you're going." he turned back and flashed Eldran a rare grin. "I'm getting out of here, before that army shows up." With that, he left.
A single voice was heard ringing out over the entire village. "Hear ye all. You have been seen as unworthy in the name of the Darkness. Prepare to be annihilated." With that, a large army stormed down onto the village. Their armor reflected no light, and their curved swords seemed to to slice through hope itself. Soon the army was upon the town, swirling shadows upon the hopeless masses, sucking them in. Bartelby knew what would happen to them. They would become mindless drones to serve the Grand Master of the Shadows. He was a vampire, rumored to be the most powerful in all the world. A rumor had been started that he was invincible, and that none could oppose him. Bartelby knew better. He sidestepped his way through the town, avoiding the screaming masses. Soon a shadow enveloped him, drawing him in. He merely clutched his hands together and let himself be pulled. "Good to see you Bartelby." Whispered Crow, having disguised them both. "Wish I could say the same." muttered Bartelby. Crow laughed and transported them to a clump of trees overlooking the town.
Bartelby sat, listening to the screams of the towns people. "Vaarn wants to conquer all of the Nations. They say he's nearly invincible now." Crow nodded, watching the proceedings. "Whoever this general is, he has no idea what he's doing. His left flank is completely exposed. If Vaarn, with his new self-appointed title, is forced to hiring people like this, we should have no problem." Bartleby nodded. "Crow, there's only one person who can kill Vaarn now, and it's you. The trees know it." He indicated the trees all around them. Crow sighed. "I know it too. But I'm afraid I don't know how to do it without letting myself lose control." Bartleby nodded. "Don't worry, we'll find a way." Crow looked out over the city as each fire was diminished, one by one. "I hope so. The Prince won't be happy, but forget him, it's my body too." Bartelby looked up. Crow didn't usually talk about The Prince, his alter ego from long ago, the one who presided over Crow's evil side. He was from Nir-al-dat after all. He knew that The Prince would constantly call for blood, but was usually silent when it got what it wanted. Bartelby realized that is Crow tried to take over, The Prince would come out, slay Vaarn, and then take control of the entire Shadow Nation. That would make it worse than it was already. Bartelby shuddered as a large shadow eclipsed the entire town, then dissapeared, along with its inhabitants, while a single small cloud floated across the sun.
Bartelby poured over his books, scanning the pages. He ran his hands over them, feeling the flowing texture of the ink. His nutbrown hair was combed back, and his brown tunic was clean and his slacks were immaculately clean, as if he had spent hours examining them for dirt. That was quite probable, though most people didn't expect much of him. He was only a blind elf after all. He was visiting his long time aquantince on business. "It's gone you know." He called out, his white eyes never leaving the page. A man crawled out from under a nearby table. "You're sure?" Bartelby nodded. "Positive." The man stood and walked over to Bartleby. "Have you found what you need to build my portable dispersal device yet, or haven't you?" Bartelby could tell he was twirling his blond hair again. He hated when he twirled his hair. At least if his hair had been red it would have made a slight singing noise. "Almost. Tell me again Eldran, why do need this again? And what's with this portable dispersal deivce s**t? It's called a bomb. Why do you need a light bomb?" Eldran bristled. "I told you, if we could several of these, fires would not even be needed. We could light the entire town for decades. We wouldn't have to rely on Izuma any longer. Think of the patriotism it could inspire." Bartelby just laughed. "Patriotism? Is that why the entire town goes into a panic, and you hide under a table, every time a cloud passes over the sun. It wasn't even that large of a cloud." Eldran grew angry and aimed a punch at Bartelby's head. Bartelby dodged, having suffered several blowd previously due to Eldran's temper. " Just build the damn...ouch!" cried Eldran as his fist came in contact with the wall. Bartelby sighed and picked up his books, heading for the door. "Where do you think you're going." he turned back and flashed Eldran a rare grin. "I'm getting out of here, before that army shows up." With that, he left.
A single voice was heard ringing out over the entire village. "Hear ye all. You have been seen as unworthy in the name of the Darkness. Prepare to be annihilated." With that, a large army stormed down onto the village. Their armor reflected no light, and their curved swords seemed to to slice through hope itself. Soon the army was upon the town, swirling shadows upon the hopeless masses, sucking them in. Bartelby knew what would happen to them. They would become mindless drones to serve the Grand Master of the Shadows. He was a vampire, rumored to be the most powerful in all the world. A rumor had been started that he was invincible, and that none could oppose him. Bartelby knew better. He sidestepped his way through the town, avoiding the screaming masses. Soon a shadow enveloped him, drawing him in. He merely clutched his hands together and let himself be pulled. "Good to see you Bartelby." Whispered Crow, having disguised them both. "Wish I could say the same." muttered Bartelby. Crow laughed and transported them to a clump of trees overlooking the town.
Bartelby sat, listening to the screams of the towns people. "Vaarn wants to conquer all of the Nations. They say he's nearly invincible now." Crow nodded, watching the proceedings. "Whoever this general is, he has no idea what he's doing. His left flank is completely exposed. If Vaarn, with his new self-appointed title, is forced to hiring people like this, we should have no problem." Bartleby nodded. "Crow, there's only one person who can kill Vaarn now, and it's you. The trees know it." He indicated the trees all around them. Crow sighed. "I know it too. But I'm afraid I don't know how to do it without letting myself lose control." Bartleby nodded. "Don't worry, we'll find a way." Crow looked out over the city as each fire was diminished, one by one. "I hope so. The Prince won't be happy, but forget him, it's my body too." Bartelby looked up. Crow didn't usually talk about The Prince, his alter ego from long ago, the one who presided over Crow's evil side. He was from Nir-al-dat after all. He knew that The Prince would constantly call for blood, but was usually silent when it got what it wanted. Bartelby realized that is Crow tried to take over, The Prince would come out, slay Vaarn, and then take control of the entire Shadow Nation. That would make it worse than it was already. Bartelby shuddered as a large shadow eclipsed the entire town, then dissapeared, along with its inhabitants, while a single small cloud floated across the sun.
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Rennara
The tale I bring is a story long forgotten by the living. Long ago, before the Water Nation had its name, there was a vast city on the edge of a shining lake. This was the city of Ardun, the heart of the western realm. It’s artfully carved towers gleamed white in the sunlight, and the moonlight. The streets and squares, lined with trees; and the people were, happy and prosperous. Even to this day, no city has been built that could rival the beauty of Ardun. The very land upon which the city was built seemed to be blessed by the hand of the Goddess. Their king, imbued with integrity by the God, led his people with a just and virtuous heart. Though, my tale is not of King Arran, but of his nephew and the line that followed him.
Malgor, son of the King’s brother Rochben, was raised in the way of his forebears; taught the law of the land and way of the sword from the very day he was able to speak. Even in his youth, he showed great aptitude for swordplay, and light magik. He grew to be a well learned young man, stalwart and admirable. Malgor was gifted the title of Knight in his sixteenth year by his uncle, and sent on his first crusade against the peoples of the Realm of Nir-al-dat. Though young and inexperienced, his combat knowledge was equal to that of a seasoned warrior. He was given a legion of men to his command. The king’s nephew led his army in a four year campaign against the settlements of vampires plaguing the lands of the west and the islands to the south.
Malgor grew into a great warrior in the years of his conquest and his return to Ardun was that of a man tried and tested, and victorious. He was given a place of honor, a seat next to his father’s in the council of King Arran and the title of Lord Shadowbane- Conqueror of the Sanguinen. He took as his wife Riel, daughter of the chief of the Nalduur people. Together they had three children, each bearing their mother’s peculiar violet eyes. Malgor’s offspring was raised much in the same way as their father, though from an early age they were taught how to purge the world of Vampires and demons. As each child came of age, they were sent off to hunt vampires. Thalion, the firstborn, who had been given the title of Shadowbane by his father at birth, bore the burden of becoming the head of the family upon his father’s death.
As Thalion Shadowbane assumed his father’s title, it was King Arran’s son Faroth who sat upon the throne. Like Malgor, he sat in the king’s council with his brother Gelmir and sister Viirin, each having proven themselves worthy of their position. Under the watchful eye of the king and his family, the whole western realm became peaceful and unified. When word of a possible vampire uprising reached the ears of the king, he completely dissmissed the idea and took no measures to secure the city of Ardun. What vampire would be audacious enough to come within a league of the family who had made their name slaying them, much less raising an army against the city they called home?
Thalion knew of the ever increasing numbers of the vampire's ranks and tried to advise Faroth to raise arms and fortify the walls of the city, but he would have none of it. The Shadowbanes held a private meeting, discussing the attack that was sure to come. It was agreed that King Faroth had sealed their doom by ignoring this threat. So with a heavy heart, Thalion sent his sons into the mountains along with his wife and sister. They were to live in hiding with the kinfolk of his mother, only to return when he himself came to retrieve them. The future of their bloodline hidden safely away, Gelmir and Thalion prepared for the worst, ordering their own battalions to keep ready for an attack on the city.
The attack came just as it had been said, and the grandest city in the whole of the western realm fell to its dark foes. Corpses littered the streets, and those who were not killed, were turned. All that had once been great and glorious now lay in ruin; stained with the blood of the innocent. But the decimation of the proud city was still not enough for its enemies. A prince of the Sanguinen came forth, and using the dark arts of his kind, sank the ruined city beneath the waters of the lake.
It was the dead of winter, the spring had frozen over and the nearby mountains were covered in snow. It had been nearly four months since Virrin had seen her brothers when she set out to return to Ardun to see what had become of the city. She followed the trail south through the woods. But when the lake came in sight, the shining city was gone. It and its inhabitants buried beneath the water, now twice the size it had once been. Its western banks charred and strewn with rubble. Viirin retuned to the Nalduur mountains to her sister-in-law and informed her of the fate that had befallen their home; and likely, their family. Viirin took it upon herself to train her nephews in the ways of the sword, and to teach them the way of the slayer. The line of the Shadowbane continues on even to this day, hidden safely away.
It is foretold that in years yet to come, an heir of the Shadowbane will seek out the lost city. Either he will be the last of his line and the Shadowbane lords will be lost forever upon his tragic death; Or it may also be that he will bring about the rebirth of his family’s greatness and restore them to their rightful place. This fate shall be decided in the days when unity comes once again to the western realm. The bloodline of kings past will come forth to face dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered and shall seal his destiny.
Malgor, son of the King’s brother Rochben, was raised in the way of his forebears; taught the law of the land and way of the sword from the very day he was able to speak. Even in his youth, he showed great aptitude for swordplay, and light magik. He grew to be a well learned young man, stalwart and admirable. Malgor was gifted the title of Knight in his sixteenth year by his uncle, and sent on his first crusade against the peoples of the Realm of Nir-al-dat. Though young and inexperienced, his combat knowledge was equal to that of a seasoned warrior. He was given a legion of men to his command. The king’s nephew led his army in a four year campaign against the settlements of vampires plaguing the lands of the west and the islands to the south.
Malgor grew into a great warrior in the years of his conquest and his return to Ardun was that of a man tried and tested, and victorious. He was given a place of honor, a seat next to his father’s in the council of King Arran and the title of Lord Shadowbane- Conqueror of the Sanguinen. He took as his wife Riel, daughter of the chief of the Nalduur people. Together they had three children, each bearing their mother’s peculiar violet eyes. Malgor’s offspring was raised much in the same way as their father, though from an early age they were taught how to purge the world of Vampires and demons. As each child came of age, they were sent off to hunt vampires. Thalion, the firstborn, who had been given the title of Shadowbane by his father at birth, bore the burden of becoming the head of the family upon his father’s death.
As Thalion Shadowbane assumed his father’s title, it was King Arran’s son Faroth who sat upon the throne. Like Malgor, he sat in the king’s council with his brother Gelmir and sister Viirin, each having proven themselves worthy of their position. Under the watchful eye of the king and his family, the whole western realm became peaceful and unified. When word of a possible vampire uprising reached the ears of the king, he completely dissmissed the idea and took no measures to secure the city of Ardun. What vampire would be audacious enough to come within a league of the family who had made their name slaying them, much less raising an army against the city they called home?
Thalion knew of the ever increasing numbers of the vampire's ranks and tried to advise Faroth to raise arms and fortify the walls of the city, but he would have none of it. The Shadowbanes held a private meeting, discussing the attack that was sure to come. It was agreed that King Faroth had sealed their doom by ignoring this threat. So with a heavy heart, Thalion sent his sons into the mountains along with his wife and sister. They were to live in hiding with the kinfolk of his mother, only to return when he himself came to retrieve them. The future of their bloodline hidden safely away, Gelmir and Thalion prepared for the worst, ordering their own battalions to keep ready for an attack on the city.
The attack came just as it had been said, and the grandest city in the whole of the western realm fell to its dark foes. Corpses littered the streets, and those who were not killed, were turned. All that had once been great and glorious now lay in ruin; stained with the blood of the innocent. But the decimation of the proud city was still not enough for its enemies. A prince of the Sanguinen came forth, and using the dark arts of his kind, sank the ruined city beneath the waters of the lake.
It was the dead of winter, the spring had frozen over and the nearby mountains were covered in snow. It had been nearly four months since Virrin had seen her brothers when she set out to return to Ardun to see what had become of the city. She followed the trail south through the woods. But when the lake came in sight, the shining city was gone. It and its inhabitants buried beneath the water, now twice the size it had once been. Its western banks charred and strewn with rubble. Viirin retuned to the Nalduur mountains to her sister-in-law and informed her of the fate that had befallen their home; and likely, their family. Viirin took it upon herself to train her nephews in the ways of the sword, and to teach them the way of the slayer. The line of the Shadowbane continues on even to this day, hidden safely away.
It is foretold that in years yet to come, an heir of the Shadowbane will seek out the lost city. Either he will be the last of his line and the Shadowbane lords will be lost forever upon his tragic death; Or it may also be that he will bring about the rebirth of his family’s greatness and restore them to their rightful place. This fate shall be decided in the days when unity comes once again to the western realm. The bloodline of kings past will come forth to face dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered and shall seal his destiny.
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RosePhantom
Nestled within the great mountains of the fire nation lay the town of Toren. The people of Toren, although true to their leader, were very isolated because of the mountains. Perhaps this isolation is what caused such a crowd that night.
It was nearing midnight, and the whole town was gathered in the town square around a make-shift stand. Lanterns were scattered across the square, throwing long shadows everywhere and giving off a warm, orange glow. Everybody had been waiting for this day to come and everybody who was anybody was gathered. Everyone, that is, except for a young woman, who came running from the tavern and melted into the crowd. This woman was known as Katrina, the owner of the local tavern. As she became one with the crowd, she rose to her tip-toes to try to get a glance of what was occurring on the stage. On the stage was a handsome young man dressed in all black with a flowing cape and long, black hair. He had a shady look about him, which Katrina found to be rather amusing.
“And now ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, spreading his arms wide, “for my final act, I need a volunteer from the audience.”
Katrina sighed, Great, I missed the whole show… she thought to herself, knowing that this traveling illusionist would be the talk of the tavern for a long time. Immediately after the man spoke, the hand of very woman in the audience shot for the sky, including Katrina’s. Why am I even raising my hand? I don’t want to volunteer! The man scanned the audience and finally found his target, “You,” he said, pointing straight at Katrina. “Yes you, the one with the short, brown hair. Please, come up here.”
Katrina could feel every pair of eyes glaring at her with envy as she maneuvered through the crowd. She climbed up onto the stage and immediately felt her stomach drop. As if he could read her thoughts, the man said, “Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be scared of.” He turned back to the audience, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, I will end my performance with a demonstration of our shadows. They silently follow us everywhere, doing our bidding, but what if our shadows were to rebel against us? Would we be able to resist? Would we be able to fight back?” Everyone in the crowd suddenly stood rigid. A black, transparent shadow rose up behind each person, taking the exact same shape as that person. Whatever movement the shadow made, the person in front of them would follow. Some people were crying, others were too shocked by the sudden loss of control to convey any emotion at all.
“What’s going on?” Katrina shouted at the illusionist, “What are you doing? What—”
“What kind of sick trick is this?” the man answered for Katrina, “Am I correct?” He laughed at Katrina’s surprised expression, “I am your shadow, Katrina. We are one.” He raised his hand and Katrina suddenly found her hand raised as well, “See? Now, face the good people of Toren and give the shadows the command.” Katrina’s eyes widened as she suddenly found herself walking to the edge of the stage. She felt like a puppet, with every one of her motions being carefully controled by the puppetmaster, by the illusionist. Every fiber in her body vainly tried to resist, yet once she reached the edge of the stage, she could not stop the words from leaving her mouth, “Kill them.”
There was no sound, not to Katrina anyway. Moving as one, the shadows slid to the front of their victims and thrust their hands into the victim’s chest, ripping out the heart. The victims fell to the ground as one. The shadows took the hearts and thrust them into their own chest. As they did, they began to take a solid form. Each one soon had pale skin stretched tightly over a skeletal body with various black markings. Gnarled, grey hair fell past their shoulders and their red eyes glowed hauntingly. Each one was dressed in black armor which showed no reflection but the dead lying on the ground.
“Come my children,” the illusionist shouted, “Let us leave. We have much work to do.” The creatures roared and the illusionist turned back to Katrina, “You’re coming with us.”
The last thing Katrina could remember was her heart in the illusionist’s hand and the smirk playing across his face, “Long live the shadow nation.”
And everything went black.
It was nearing midnight, and the whole town was gathered in the town square around a make-shift stand. Lanterns were scattered across the square, throwing long shadows everywhere and giving off a warm, orange glow. Everybody had been waiting for this day to come and everybody who was anybody was gathered. Everyone, that is, except for a young woman, who came running from the tavern and melted into the crowd. This woman was known as Katrina, the owner of the local tavern. As she became one with the crowd, she rose to her tip-toes to try to get a glance of what was occurring on the stage. On the stage was a handsome young man dressed in all black with a flowing cape and long, black hair. He had a shady look about him, which Katrina found to be rather amusing.
“And now ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, spreading his arms wide, “for my final act, I need a volunteer from the audience.”
Katrina sighed, Great, I missed the whole show… she thought to herself, knowing that this traveling illusionist would be the talk of the tavern for a long time. Immediately after the man spoke, the hand of very woman in the audience shot for the sky, including Katrina’s. Why am I even raising my hand? I don’t want to volunteer! The man scanned the audience and finally found his target, “You,” he said, pointing straight at Katrina. “Yes you, the one with the short, brown hair. Please, come up here.”
Katrina could feel every pair of eyes glaring at her with envy as she maneuvered through the crowd. She climbed up onto the stage and immediately felt her stomach drop. As if he could read her thoughts, the man said, “Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be scared of.” He turned back to the audience, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, I will end my performance with a demonstration of our shadows. They silently follow us everywhere, doing our bidding, but what if our shadows were to rebel against us? Would we be able to resist? Would we be able to fight back?” Everyone in the crowd suddenly stood rigid. A black, transparent shadow rose up behind each person, taking the exact same shape as that person. Whatever movement the shadow made, the person in front of them would follow. Some people were crying, others were too shocked by the sudden loss of control to convey any emotion at all.
“What’s going on?” Katrina shouted at the illusionist, “What are you doing? What—”
“What kind of sick trick is this?” the man answered for Katrina, “Am I correct?” He laughed at Katrina’s surprised expression, “I am your shadow, Katrina. We are one.” He raised his hand and Katrina suddenly found her hand raised as well, “See? Now, face the good people of Toren and give the shadows the command.” Katrina’s eyes widened as she suddenly found herself walking to the edge of the stage. She felt like a puppet, with every one of her motions being carefully controled by the puppetmaster, by the illusionist. Every fiber in her body vainly tried to resist, yet once she reached the edge of the stage, she could not stop the words from leaving her mouth, “Kill them.”
There was no sound, not to Katrina anyway. Moving as one, the shadows slid to the front of their victims and thrust their hands into the victim’s chest, ripping out the heart. The victims fell to the ground as one. The shadows took the hearts and thrust them into their own chest. As they did, they began to take a solid form. Each one soon had pale skin stretched tightly over a skeletal body with various black markings. Gnarled, grey hair fell past their shoulders and their red eyes glowed hauntingly. Each one was dressed in black armor which showed no reflection but the dead lying on the ground.
“Come my children,” the illusionist shouted, “Let us leave. We have much work to do.” The creatures roared and the illusionist turned back to Katrina, “You’re coming with us.”
The last thing Katrina could remember was her heart in the illusionist’s hand and the smirk playing across his face, “Long live the shadow nation.”
And everything went black.
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Harken Mueller
Cpt. Robert Alekson rides his hose along the road to the Water Nation. He and his two comrads were going through a standard drill on the Water Nation border. Pvt. Starbranch, one of the two members of his patrol, had rode ahead to check the area.
The other Private with him, Alex Perkins, was a new recruit. Alekson thought this might be a good mission to bite his teeth on. "Captain, sir?" inquired Perkins, "What exactly are we supopsed to be doing again?"
Alekson shook his head, giving a bit of a laugh. "It's just a standard procedure drill. Each patrol needs to do this once a week to keep in practice in case of an emergancy. Don't worry, Private. You'll see action soon enough." Alekson looked up to see Starbranch riding towards them. They rode up to meet him next to a row of stones stamped with the royal seal, representing the edge of Earth Nation territory.
Starbranch says to Alekson, "Sir, no signs of suspicious activity."
"Okay, it looks like we're done here. Move out."
A man hiding the woods crouches and waits. he had been there in the edge of the Water Nation territory waiting for three days, and his rations are almost out. If he completes his mission today, he would have to withdraw to headquarters.
And then they came. Right on schedule. He picks up his crossbow and peers through the brass scope attached to it. The crossbow is a specially designed by the Water Nations scientists for sniping. If he accomplished his mission, a war between the Earth and Water nations would be almost immanent.
The patrol had come to a stop just shy of Water Territory. The man got a good look at them while they were talking. Two seemed to be of equal rank, while the other had more decoration. There's my target... thought the man to himself. Only get one shot... He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow.
He bears down on his target and squeezes the trigger of his crossbow.
The other Private with him, Alex Perkins, was a new recruit. Alekson thought this might be a good mission to bite his teeth on. "Captain, sir?" inquired Perkins, "What exactly are we supopsed to be doing again?"
Alekson shook his head, giving a bit of a laugh. "It's just a standard procedure drill. Each patrol needs to do this once a week to keep in practice in case of an emergancy. Don't worry, Private. You'll see action soon enough." Alekson looked up to see Starbranch riding towards them. They rode up to meet him next to a row of stones stamped with the royal seal, representing the edge of Earth Nation territory.
Starbranch says to Alekson, "Sir, no signs of suspicious activity."
"Okay, it looks like we're done here. Move out."
* * * * *
A man hiding the woods crouches and waits. he had been there in the edge of the Water Nation territory waiting for three days, and his rations are almost out. If he completes his mission today, he would have to withdraw to headquarters.
And then they came. Right on schedule. He picks up his crossbow and peers through the brass scope attached to it. The crossbow is a specially designed by the Water Nations scientists for sniping. If he accomplished his mission, a war between the Earth and Water nations would be almost immanent.
The patrol had come to a stop just shy of Water Territory. The man got a good look at them while they were talking. Two seemed to be of equal rank, while the other had more decoration. There's my target... thought the man to himself. Only get one shot... He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow.
He bears down on his target and squeezes the trigger of his crossbow.
