Elerria: Amulet of the Silv'ani, All new fantasy adventure in a new world

[Keyblademasta Eclypse]

Chapter 1

Space… A vast and wondrous place. It is the easiest place to get lost in, and hardest place to get found. It takes up 99.9% of the known Universe, so it would most likely be said, that it holds the greatest amount of lost beings ever, but that would be a false statement. In fact, most species don’t even have the technological capability to survive out there, let alone even reach the limits of space. One of those very few species who had that power, were the Rok’nad’s.

Rok’nad’s were known to be one of the first beings to ever live, giving them the capability to think much faster and have amazing adaptability. Over the thousands of years, they’re minds have adapted so well, that a select few of them are able to use their very imagination to affect their surroundings. These select few are now called the Silv’ani, in their language meaning “the elite few”. These Silv’ani were born with their powers, but it usually took them at least a year to master their ability. The other, less fortunate Rok’nad who don’t have the ability at birth, may be able to eventually become a Silv’ani, but to fully master their skill, it would take at least 20 long years of relentless study and practice.

The Rok’nad were usually a bluish shade of color, to match their homeland, which was a vast blue planet called Rok’nadria, full of lush forests and grand alien cities. They looked much like the elven races on the planet Elerria, but the Rok’nads had a peculiarly large horn, that protruded out of the top of their heads. If you were to look back into the history of the Rok’nads you’d find that they didn’t always have their horn. About 1,000 years ago the Rok’nad named Hellesque was born with a very small, peculiar horn. It was said that he was the first to actually use his imagination as his power and became the founder of the Silv’ani. After him, all newborn children began growing horns, and even some of the adults, but only few would be qualified for the Silv’ani rank. The horn was the essence of their imagination, even for those who weren’t a part of the Silv’ani. Everyone had a horn, and those who aren’t Silv’ani still have a far greater thought of mind then other beings or species. If you were to damage the horn, it would drain your imagination to the point where your brain feels as if it were a pool of confusing nothingness inside your head, just sitting there. That is why the Rok’nads keep their horn polished and well cared for. Another feature they shared with the elves was everlasting life.

Hellesque became the head teacher of all incoming Silv’ani, the head of the Silv’ani council, and if that weren’t enough, leader of Rok’nadria. He was undoubtedly the strongest, both mentally and physically, of all the Silv’ani. The only drawback that he saw in the fact that they had indefinite life was that they’re planet was far too small and in the coming years would become overpopulated.

Hellesque dispatched 100 Silv’ani into space to research the livable planets on which they could eventually migrate to. They found many planets, but only one that possessed the necessary amount of oxygen that would sustain the Rok’nad species for ages to come. This planet they called Manason, but they soon found that they weren’t the only species to reside there.

The other species were mostly humanoid species, but some were wild, strange animals and beasts of which the Rok’nads had never dreams. Of the humanoid species, there were the humans, elves, orcs, trolls, dwarves, monestrils, and the senterfeckle. There were of course many more humanoid species in this world then that, but the Rok’nad did not know of any other.

The humans, a mortal, primitive species, befriended the few Silv’ani, and taught them their language. The Rok’nads, being very fast adapters learned to speak it fluently and found that the true name of this planet was Elerria. The humans also introduced them to the elves, a beautiful, immortal race who in fact were much older and wiser than the Rok’nad, but were much less fertile, resulting in very few of them. They were the only known humanoid species that had immortality. The humans also introduced them to the dwarves, a much angrier race, but on many occasions were much happier then others, most likely due to the overindulgence in alcoholic beverages they had amongst each other. The dwarves were very short, and were accustomed to growing very long beards.

The humans taught them that most of the other races were bent on harm and destruction, so it would best to avoid these as best in your ability. The Silv’ani did notice that these other species came and attacked the allying races constantly, and that the humans, as docile as they were, were in a never ending war. The Rok’nad confronted the humans and asked if their species could live on the planet as well. It was a very large planet, in fact it had over 13 known continents. The humans readily said that they may.

The Silv’ani went back to their homeland sometime later, and gave Hellesque the information that he had requested them to find. He was very pleased to hear this news and sent 50 vintels (Rok’nadrian space vessel) full of Rok’nad citizens to Elerria and they made a small city outside of the human city, Garabajin, named Sendral. They, like the previous Silv’ani, learned the native language very quickly, and were befriended as well. The humans were the most help, especially in helping to make the city of Sendral. They taught the Rok’nad how to make stone houses. The reclusive elves put a protective spell around the city, that made it impossible for weapons bent on evil to penetrate the walls, and then left without further adieu.

A hundred years had passed and the Rok’nad civilization on Elerria had grown enormously and was thriving. Over time small conflicts began with the humans and the Rok’nad over property rights. It eventually led the Rok’nad to separate from the alliance, but being that their cities were so close together, there could be no peace among the two races. Eventually the first war had started and the Rok’nad won, only by numbers. The fact that some could use their imagination as their own type of magic, did not do much to aid the Rok’nad, being that their were very few. If the elves spell weren’t still in effect, they would have surely lost, for the main battle was fought in Sendral, and the humans were not able to wield weapons inside their gates. But, no doubt, the humans planned a second war on their former comrades.

With the aid of both the dwarves and the elves combined, the three races raided Sendral with all their might, making sure that the elves banish the anti-weapon spell. The Rok’nads were severely unprepared, and in desperate measures they fled back to their homeland, by flying back in the vintels. Though many survived unscathed, hundreds of Rok’nadrian civilians had died and thousands were wounded. Only 3 humans and a dwarf had died in that slaughter.

The remaining Rok’nad had now made it back to their homeland Rok’nadria and found all well. When they informed Hellesque he went berserk. He instituted new academies and began building an army. He taught them how to use the Silv’ani imagination and how to wield and use weapons. In this time he grew from a loyal and trustworthy king to a secretive and a power-hungry scheming leader.

Also around this time, he found a companion for himself. Her name was Celia’cran, a beautiful and educated Silv’ani member. They soon had a baby girl named Arrjem, who would become someone very important in the Rok’nads upcoming plan. Within the first years of her being born she was very powerful mentally. In fact, she had surpassed all the Silv’ani, including her father Hellesque, in having the strongest imagination. It was so strong, in fact, that she herself could not control it sometimes. In secret Hellesque made a strange magical amulet, that he gave to Arrjem. Although Hellesque never truly told her the true power that the amulet possessed, he did tell her that it kept her powers at bay.

About a week after she turned the age of nine, she ran away from her home planet Rok’nadria, because of a terrible plot her people were planning, which she wanted no part of. Although her species had vintels that she could have flown in, she decided not to. She used her imagination to guide her. If you were to look upon her, it would look as if a very young girl was trapped, unconscious, inside a very large and very dark wisp, in the shape of a bird, with a long horn on the tip of its forehead. The wisp left a never ending black streak in the sky. She had a four inch horn, that shone brightly with a purple tint.

She had her eyes closed, as if she were sleeping. In fact, she was in a very deep sleep. It is a known fact among the Rok’nads that while dreaming your imagination soars double fold, but can easily be swept off to another thought if you are not forever mindful of your goal. She knew not, nor truly cared, where she was heading. Anything to get away from her people. They had devised a new, sinister, and foolproof plan in which Arrjem was the weapon. This was all she knew about the plan, but it was enough for her to understand she wanted no part of it. She had to get away.

She, and her imagined guide, drifted aimlessly onward, for another week or so. The Rok’nads did not net to eat or drink, while in this state of being. The very next day, she crash landed onto an alternate planet, but which, she had no clue. Arrjem awoke immediately after the crash took place and she looked around. She saw many strange trees, all hovering high above her.

She was both happy about getting away safely, but worried as to what would lie ahead. She eventually noticed that her guide had vanished, along with the dark streak in the sky. A bit scared of the creatures she may find herself facing on this strange planet, she tried to summon her wisp, but nothing happened. She tried once more, thinking with all her mind, but to no avail. In fact, it seemed as if she had no mind any longer… as if it had melted away. It felt very mangled and it was very hard to concentrate on any one thing for a long time. She now felt very useless and very freightened.

Suddenly it hit her, and hard. A very large and painful headache splintered through her already shattered mind. Arrjem cradled her head, between her knees, rocking back and forth on the damp ground. From the tip of her horn came a jolt of pain that surged through her body and she let out a scream of pain and panic. She grasped the tip of her horn, but then gasped in a terrified tone.

Her horn was only half the size it was originally. Tears spilled out of her eyes as she examined her bloodstained hands. She understood, finally, why she couldn’t imagine anything. When a Rok’nad were to damage their horn, they would likewise tamper with their imaginative mind. She wiped the blood on a nearby patch of grass, and bit her nails, trying desperately to control herself.

After ten long and painful minutes, the horn numbed, but the headache was still throbbing in her mind. As Arrjem wiped off her tears and stood up, she almost fell in her strange dizziness. She saw spots in her eyes as blood rushed to her head. She threw her limp arms out, to grasp hold of something, as she struggled to stay on her feet. She wobbled over the ground, slowly, careful not to trip and finally grasped a nearby branch, which directed her to the nearest tree. There, Arrjem waited for a short while, for her eyesight to return. Her vision had completely blacked out due to the immense amount of blood that rushed to her head.

Soon enough, though, her eyesight came into focus, and her dizziness was swept away. She looked around her, once again, so that she could get at grips with her surroundings. The trees were surprisingly thin, with many small, green, almost paper like things, hanging from the ever swaying branches. Of course, she knew not of any trees besides those in Rok’nadria, in which the trees themselves were a pale shade of blue and the leaves were very large and very sharp, dark shade of blue. These must have been the leaves of this planet, but what planet was it? After a short thought Arrjem averted her gaze to the scar in which she had left when she crashed into the planet. A cool, icy shiver ran down her spine as she walked towards it and kneeled herself down before it. There was a small crater where the crash had been. Sure enough, though, she saw the other half of her horn shoved deeply into the dirt, a small puddle of crimson blood surrounding it.

She picked it up, but found it harder than she had thought, seeing it was stuck in the ground so hard. Arrjem examined it curiously. Her horn would, eventually grow back, but not for a very long time. She understood then, that she must have landed herself headfirst into the ground, hard enough to break the horn. She knew as well as any other Rok’nad that it was almost impossible to break the horns, seeing that they were made out of a material almost as hard as diamond, but a fall with that intensity it would have snapped it as if it were a twig. She noticed, also, that it was exactly 2 inches in length. She knew this because there was always a small band of purple that runs around every inch of the horn, and there was no more and no less than two bands of purple on it.

She pocketed the small horn in her pocket that sat itself upon the right side of her dress. She frighteningly averted her gaze once more, when she heard a twig snap somewhere behind her. There was nobody there, or was there. The next emotion that she felt, would be the most frightened emotion she would ever experience, or so she thought. There stood two humans.

[Yoda]

This was a very good story Wow, how did you come up with this? Chapter 2 almost done? Very good, I gave it perfect.

[Keyblademasta Eclypse]

Yes, chapter 2 is almost done. Thank you for the perfect score, but after second thought, it seems as if I put too many comma's. hmm

[Ninja]

wow thats kind of good.

[Keyblademasta Eclypse]

Chapter 2

Stromin strung another arrow to the bow and took aim. He pulled the bowstring with his left hand, with the feathery end of the arrow held tightly between his fore and middle fingers. Stromin focused on the round, black and red target and released his left hand with ease. The arrow made a low hissing sound as it soared through the air and a soft thud as it embedded itself into the target. It hadn’t exactly hit the center of the target, like he had wanted, but at least it hit the target.

“Well, let’s look at the bright side,” someone behind him said, as they put their left hand on Stromin’s right shoulder. “At least you hit the target this time.” He laughed hard for a moment, in a bowing motion and then straightened himself once again. This was Stromin’s brother, Orenthil, who was quite right in laughing. Stromin had shot 24 arrows and only 5 had even hit the target, including the one he just shot. It looked as if he had tried to everything around the target, in which case he would have been very successful.

Orenthil was always in a happy mood. Hi face was very broad compared to the rest of his body, which was quite built, but strangely thin. His hair was black, as was Stromin’s and his eyes were light blue, also like Stromin’s. Orenthil was four years older then Stromin, who was seventeen, yet sometimes acted much younger. They looked very much alike, except for a scar that Orenthil had received last year from an orc encounter a few months ago. The scar was about an inch long and a centimeter thick and it ran down the left side of his face.

“Oh, shut up,” Stromin remarked, a bit annoyed at, yet with a comical tone, “I still have one more to shoot,” and he pointed a finger behind him at the brown leather quiver that rested itself on a tree. It held Stromin’s best arrow, that he had found ages ago. It was elven crafted, with a gold arrowhead. There was a spell on it, so that it wouldn’t break and may be reused, but Stromin did not know this, nor did he know it was elven crafted. All he knew was that it was well made, and by a good crafter.

“Aah, I see you’ve kept your best arrow for last. That should help you a load,” Orenthil said sarcastically.

Stromin strode over to the quiver and removed the arrow, then went back to his previous spot. “Well,” he paused for a second as he readied his shot and aimed at the target, “we’ll just have to wait and see.” He pulled the string back. At that moment Orenthil took a step toward Stromin and blew in his ear. Stromin released unexpectedly and his aim was immediately lost as the arrow shot through the trees. “What’d you do that for?” Stromin yelled angrily.

Suddenly, from the direction in which the arrow was shot, sounded a large and what sounded to be a very disastrous crashing noise. Orenthil’s face went from being a very pleased, yet a bit guilty, to a confused and almost scared look. “Was… was that your arrow?” he asked in an astonished undertone, “what did it hit?”

Also a bit astonished Stromin said “No idea.” His anger had subsided almost immediately after the noise. He looked at the target in which he had previously been aiming for and noticed the few arrows that protruded from it. There was no way that they could’ve made such an alarming noise, even if the arrow had ricocheted off very large and very hollow, metallic barrel. They stood there, very still pondering the matter.

Stromin looked back at Orenthil and noticed that it looked like he was straining himself to see something very distant, but instead Orenthil said “listen…” Sure enough Stromin heard a very distant rumble.

“What is it Oren…” he said, but was cut off by Orenthil, who placed his forefinger to his lips.

“Shhh…” he said sharply, but quietly at the same time. The noise had gotten louder than before, and then a bit louder as if whatever it was were coming closer. The ground began to shake and very suddenly a terrifyingly loud and reverberating ring blasted its way through the forest, as leaves were thrown at them like a blizzard, and the ground moved in literal waves. The two brothers were thrown off the ground with such force that it was a miracle they landed within a proximity of ten yards in which they had been lifted. The quiver landed hard on Orenthil’s face and he threw it off of himself quickly, while the bow was still held tightly in Stromin’s right hand. The noise stopped abruptly and it became strangely silent. The leaves, both green and brown, fluttered towards the ground, in what looked like millions at a time.

Groaning, Stromin sat up, his left hand on his side. The pain in that area was immense. He must have broken a rib bone or two. Orenthil did the same, but his hand was on his face where the quiver had struck him. His nose was oddly crooked and bleeding badly. Both, still at a daze as to what had just occurred, waited a few seconds to catch their breath and waited for their thought process to come back to normal. When they got back to their senses they gazed about. Orenthil gasped, while Stromin exclaimed “Whoa!” It was a terrible sight.

Trees had been uprooted from the ground and ripped in half, while where there was once lush grass, there was now a field of shredded grass, leaves, and twigs scattered all over the places. Deep holes and cuts gashed the face of the earth, as if this were a war zone.

“What just happened?” Stromin asked sounding absolutely dumbfounded, but Orenthil did not answer his question, because suddenly a large uprooted tree in front of them seemed to jump off the ground and back into its original spot as good as new. Another tree did the same thing behind them and then another and another. Eventually all the trees were back up an as good as the original version. Then the leaves flew into the air and made circular funnel, and one by one each leaf made it to its original spot as well. It were as if the world were rewinding itself. The same went for the many blades of grass as they began put themselves back together.

Stromin had begun to yell and Orenthil looked in the direction in which Stromin had fallen, but there was nobody there. Instead Orenthil instinctively looked up and saw in amazement Stromin floating ten feet off the ground. A few seconds later Orenthil was likewise in the air, and was yelling out of what seemed excitement and amazement, instead of fear. In the distance a rabbit was brought into the air as well, but it was dead no doubt due to one of the trees falling on it.

A few seconds later they were all back on the ground, but they felt unhurt from their previous dilemma and now felt fresh and new. In the distance the same rabbit squealed with joy, or what seemed to be joy rather. The world had healed itself!

The wind blew softly over their hair as they sat upright, looking around. They watched as the birds settled themselves back into their nests and watched nature get back to it’s usual self. “That was… unusual,” Stromin said, at a loss of words.

Orenthil jumped up onto his feet. “Come on, let’s go!” He pulled Stromin up to his feet and began pulling him in the direction of the direction in which the strange sounds came from. Stromin objected hastily, pulling his arm back.

“Oren, shouldn’t we see if the village is safe before we investigate?” The village in which he spoke of was a small one, hidden from the rest of the world in the Sentarin forest. The residents who lived there were outcasts, tired of the conflicts of the outside world. They did occasionally send people to the major cities to get a grip at what’s happening in the outside world.

“No, didn’t you see what just happened? The sound wave came and destroyed everything in it’s path, but another wave came and fixed everything back to normal. They are fine, brother. And besides it is our job to figure these things out,” Oren said convincingly. “They will want to know what caused those terrifying sounds.” The job in which Orenthil was talking about was the detective/bounty hunter business they owned and ran together. They called it Haffind Brother Detective Agency. Haffind was their last name. Unfortunately, their village was very small, so they had to do business in the city. They didn’t get very big assignments though, but on occasion they got one that left it’s mark on them, literally. That was how they encountered those orcs a few months back, and how Orenthil got the scar on his face. It was a bounty they had been hired for. Perhaps Orenthil was thinking, they may get hired to figure out what the noises were, so they may as well find out now.

“Alright, alright,” agreed Stromin finally. “Let’s do this quickly.” He raced after the already running Orenthil, who dodged the motionless trees as if this were a deadly sport. They ran for a few minutes, when Orenthil began to go into a jog. He stopped suddenly, signaling for Stromin to stop. “What is it, Oren?” Stromin whispered.

Orenthil inched back toward Stromin. He whispered into Stromin’s ears. “Your arrow is in that tree over there, which means that it didn’t hit whatever made the noise.” Stromin noticed the arrow protruding out of the Oak tree in which Orenthil had pointed. He began walking towards it, when Orenthil whispered “That also means that whatever made the noise is still close.”

Stromin, taking heed to his words, crept slowly towards the arrow, and tried pulling it out. It was embedded surprisingly hard. He pulled a bit harder this time and then the arrow snapped in half with a loud crack. In the distance they heard a loud gasp, as soon as the arrow snapped and both Orenthil and Stromin froze. They waited a few seconds, hiding behind tree trunks. Then Orenthil put his hand out, so Stromin could see it. He counted one, two, and then three with his fingers and they both jumped out from behind the trees. They stopped suddenly, for what they saw wasn’t some large beast or an icky substance, in which they might have thought it to be. It was a small girl, and she was a Rok’nad.

“Oren, does she seem a bit blue to you? And what is that thing in her head, oh!” He stopped talking as he realized it was a Rok’nad. It was strange though, because all Rok’nad have been gone for nearly five years.

Orenthil spoke up. “She’s a Rok’nad, but what is she doing here, all alone?” He walked over to her slowly, so as to not frighten her. She began crying and huddled herself against a tree. “Where is your ship?” he asked the girl, but she just cried in return.
“I don’t think she can speak Elerrian, Oren,” Stromin said wondering terribly about how a Rok’nad girl got onto Elerria. “Should we bring him to the city? It would fetch a good reward, I think.

“No.” Orenthil walked over to the girl. He mumbled something to himself, “Poor thing her horns broken.” He picked the girl up, and stood her on her feet. “We have to bring her to the village. Do you know what they would do to this girl if we brought her to the city? They would lock her up, just for being Rok’nadrian.” He paused for a brief moment. “Come on, we have to bring her to Ferendé the wise.” They grabbed her by the arm, but not forcefully, and pulled her in the direction of the village.

Stromin found himself thinking very hard as to what that noise or blast or whatever it was and how it had to deal with this tiny little girl. “Oren, do you think she could’ve caused all that damage?” He stopped walking. “I mean, they can use magic and all.”

“This one can’t use magic, though,” Orenthil said, likewise stopping to get a look at the broken horn. It was freshly bleeding. “Rok’nad’s can’t use their magic without they’re horns.” He studied what remained of her horn a short while longer. This horn was freshly broken, so I’m guessing she hardly even knew there was a wave of energy that purged through the forest. She only recognized the pain.”

The young Rok’nad girl looked back and forth at both Stromin’s and Orenthil’s faces. She not knowing what to do, mumbled something in her native tongue, and began to weep once more. Stromin and Orenthil continued through the forest with her in between them.

[raymanxpd]

that waz pretty good. dwwwwaaaaaaaahhh