Beginning of Nameless (so far) Story

PROLOUGE
The Pride of a Panthwar

Shalwood, of the Kingdom of United Peoples. VII Age.

Darkness descended on the city of Verrere. A shadow crept over the low-lying buildings. The darkness twirled, as if to tell the dark future. Storms were common in the forest where the city was nestled. But this storm would bring much more than rain and thunder.
As a dark storm approached the town, one creature’s face bore a smile. He was a panthwar; an animal like a great cat, but upright, with the ability to speak. The panthwars had always been respected as warriors by the humans, and their recent alliance with them was considered a great victory. They had settled in a remote region in Shalwood. This particular male was a warrior, standing at six feet ten inches when at full height, and his black fur rippled with massive muscles when he moved. Sinewy straps wrapped his broad chest and thick shoulders. He had a peculiar feature: he had a blue nose and eyes. This is why his parents named him Indigo.
His joy was caused by a small, wet, mewling panthwar kit. He was now a father, for the first time in his 37 years of life. His mate, Vaoli, a skinny, yellow, lithe creature, was lying on the bed of pine needles before him. “Indigo,” she said weakly, “his pads are red.” Indigo smiled. He looked down at the kit’s paws. The soft flesh of his pads was indeed deep red.
“He shall be named Vermilion, son of Indigo.” Indigo said.
The sound of the emergency bells’ ring shattered the silence of the town. Then the door to Indigo’s small stone home burst open. A panthwar stood outlined by the rolling black clouds in the sky.
“Goblins!” the panthwar shouted. “I fear they know we’re defenseless!” Indigo stood up from his seat by his mate.
“I’d think they would avoid this city after the last time we sent them home with three troops.”
“This time’s...different.”
“How many are there?” Indigo probed.
“At least a hundred, armed with weapons from last weeks raid on the human storehouses. With all our warriors gone to assist the humans, we’re hopeless.”
Indigo grabbed his scimitar, Winterkiss. It was said by those who had survived it’s fury that it has the cold wrath of winter in its blade. He smeared a clear liquid from a flask on his belt onto the blade. “Not all warriors have left.” He slipped a cuirass lined with gold over his head, and turned to his mate. “I won’t be long.” He stepped into the pouring rain outside. He glanced at the hill across the city. It was crawling with goblin raiders. They seemed to be green ants, gathering around one huge creature. That would be the “Raidrunner” or Greatgoblin, usually older and much larger than the others. If it were not for this mildly intelligent goblin, the raids would be more like goblins wandering around and dying.
Suddenly the goblins on the hillside stumbled into a triangular formation. They were preparing to charge.
“Quickly!” The lean panthwar next to Indigo said. “The temple will be their first target! Come! The warriors- excuse me- volunteers- will assemble there.”
He took off running. The throwing axes at his belt bounced with each graceful bound. Indigo followed, glancing back at the hill. The goblins had begun their charge, some slipping on the muddy slope and being trampled by their comrades. They began to scream, a horrid raking noise, like steel on stone. That noise struck despair into Indigo’s heart and would forever haunt him.

When they reached the plaza in front of the temple, there was two dozen or so panthwars, mostly villagers, holding various weapons, waiting for the enemy. Indigo stopped running. This fight was hopeless. Goblins may not be smart, but they were relentless fighters.
A sopping wet male with light fur strode up to Indigo. “Steelclaws, I’m glad to see another warrior here,” the male said to Indigo. Indigo had been in a small crusading group who fought under the king’s name. He had earned the name Steelclaws there, due to his tendency to favor his claws over his sword in battle. This male, Varc, had fought in this group with him, as a healer and warrior.
“Did you see their numbers?” Varc asked. “Because I hear they have 300!”
“Not quite.” Indigo told him. “But the odds aren’t exactly in our favor.”
“What I’m wonderin’,” Varc whispered to Indigo, “is why are the goblins are after us. I mean, they’re just too dumb to figure out how to get inside a walled city like Verrere. And no siege engines, either.” This very thought had been troubling Indigo since the goblins appeared outside the city.
“They must have someone directing them,” whispered Indigo. He didn’t want to worry the volunteers.
There was a great crash followed by the sound of crumbling stone. A scout came dashing into the plaza screaming “They’re through the gate! They’re through the gate!" Worried looks appeared on the faces of the volunteers, and murmuring began.
“Someone needs to take charge here.” Varc whispered. Indigo nodded, and, even as the goblin mob charged up the cobblestone street, stood to his full six feet ten inches, and began to shout orders.
“Pole arms to the front line! Everyone else behind! Any bows or crossbows here?” Indigo dashed about, reassuring the makeshift army of forty. They seemed so pathetic compared to the throng of goblins rushing toward them. Varc was standing next to Indigo, his jaw dropped in horror as the goblins approached. They moved like a mass of gray-green skin and blades, as one. Near the back, a massive troll lumbered along. Its black, lumpy skin looked like wet leather in the rain. Its frontside was coated with splinters, probably because it had torn the gate to pieces.
Suddenly, the raiders stopped in their tracks, skidding on the wet stone. A battle scarred goblin strode forward. He was older than the other goblins, and therefore larger. He had many battle scars and was missing a long pointed ear, as well as a good amount of his snout. “I am Slash, Greatgoblin of the eastern hills,” he snarled to the group opposite of him. “You will surrender the rune to me, or I cannot account for the actions of my troops.”
This had to be the smartest goblin Indigo had ever seen. He used more than one five letter word in one sentence.
“We will fight to the end, goblin.” Indigo shouted to the green skinned warrior. A roar of approval rose up from the group of panthwars.
“Very well cat, but you have just dug your own grave, along with every other panthwar here. Including your own lovely female.”
“You will never touch her.” Growled Indigo. Slash turned away calmly, chuckling softly. It sounded like nails scraping against a stone wall. “Charge.” He stated, as if an afterthought. The goblin raiders let out a whoop, and attacked.



Slowly, and painfully, Indigo opened his eyelids to a dull light. The smell of death crept into his nose. He felt his fur coat was matted with blood, his own and others’. He was in the courtyard, which had been mostly destroyed and burned by the goblin raiders. Bodies littered the ground, staining the mortar of the streets red and black, with blood of panthwar and goblin alike.
Indigo lifted himself to his feet and glanced at his right paw. Blood had crusted around his claw holes, and they were lacking claws. He thought back to the battle. He remembered Slash’s final scream as Indigo had torn his neck open. Afterwards he had been hit in the paw with a mace, popping the claws out. Then he was thrown against the wall by another huge goblin, knocking him out. He must have been left for dead. The enemy had obviously won this engagement, for the temple door was broken, and every panthwar was dead, bar Indigo.
He approached the temple with caution, fearing that they left guards to pick off stragglers. But as he entered the temple, he realized the situation was far worse than he had thought. The altar where the Rune of Energy normally lay was shattered, the sacred relic gone.
He spent the next hour wandering aimlessly amidst the death and destruction that was now Verrere. At last, he came upon his own home, full of dread for what he would find inside, and knowing already what he would see.
He entered his own home and found the walls spattered with blood. He wanted to stop, turn, and run, but he couldn’t. It seemed that he was no longer in control of his own body. He had no will to go on, but his legs went foreword.
His family was hanging by their ankles in his pantry. They had been hacked at and cut with a serrated blade, like a saw. They had been tortured before they had died. He couldn’t help but to envision what had happened.
The goblin gang probably rammed the door in, their purple tongues hanging from their mouth in bloodlust. Vaoli would have been sitting in the closet, clutching the baby. Or maybe she had been on the bed, unable to move because she had no strength. Either way the results were the same. Visions of blood, screams and pain shot through Indigo’s head.
Indigo collapsed on the floor. He lay there for an immeasurable amount of time, hearing the rain pouring down outside. At last he stood. His eyes shown with not only sorrow, but a newfound rage.
“He was just a newborn!” He screamed at no one. “How do you kill a newborn!” his voice faded, and at last tears came.
He spent an hour in front of his family, lost, trying to come to grips with reality. His whole life was hanging in front of him, torn and bloodied by a brutal world. He stumbled outside, and vomited. As a storm passed, one creature’s face bore the sorrow that no being should ever experience.



Ch. 1



It seems in the war of good and evil, good is always at the disadvantage, and yet the valiant fight on, sacrificing their souls to eternal conflict, if only so others do not have to. It disgusts me the disrespect these individuals typically receive.

Klevtar, Human Philosopher, V Age




Two and half years later, across a bay, two major rivers, and a huge swamp….


Deep in Deakron forest, an old elf was riding through a forested valley. Her path was lit by a full moon, but her horse was having a hard time staying on the path. He was reaching the twilight of his life as was she.
Normally, elven features were hard to read, but fear was evident on her lean, pointed face. She could hear the sound of the other horse’s hoof beats as it galloped through the forest after her. The man that rode it was gaining. She was in unfamiliar territory, and her judgment was clouded by fear. She felt that her end was near. The three day long chase through the forest was over.
Suddenly, the ground underneath her horse exploded. The horse screamed and dropped onto his owner. She was pinned to the ground by her dying companion. The man stopped riding and leapt off his horse. As he stepped into the light of the moon, the elf could make out his features.
He appeared to be about twenty, and in shape, with longish brown hair. Some strands fell down to his eyes. On the corner of his forehead was a black tattoo, that of one who was trained at a mage academy. He wore black gloves and a flowing scarlet cape, also bearing the symbol of the mage academy He wore a thin layer of armor encrusted with black jewels.
Several more horses rode up, each bearing a goblin. She could hear them muttering to each other about torturing her. The man strode up to her and leaned over her wrinkled face. “Hello” he said calmly. A cruel smile curled over his lips. “So. We have all the time in the world, so why don’t we get to know each other. How old are you my lady?”
“I will answer nothing, wizard,” she muttered defiantly.
“Wizard?” He seemed offended by her comment, and surprised. “I’m a mage. Not a wizard. Wizards sit over their old musty books, say an hour of incantations, then the spell is cast. For us mages, if we even just concentrate, we can boil some one’s skin off.” The cruel smile returned. “But, of course, that is an extremely hard spell.” A smirk crept onto his face. His eyes met hers and seemed to pierce her thoughts.
“So, you’re 2843. Interesting.”
“How did you know that?” She hissed. Worry began to show itself in her ancient face. She then returned to her natural calm self. “And what about you?” She returned the question. “Your face says twenty. But your eyes tell me otherwise.”
“I’m twenty three,” he said.
“But you have knowledge of a man much, much older...” She stared into his eyes.
“You’re correct. In fact, I know everything about you, your village, and the forest that holds it.”
“I doubt you know everything about-” She was cut off by the mage.
“Yes, I even know about the boy in the hidden cabin on the east side of the valley. Well, I guess he would no longer be just a boy. I told you, I know everything about this place.”
Her face paled even further, sinking into ghost white.
“You will never find what you seek,” she responded. His smile faded. It was replaced by a frown
“Watch yourself down there. You might get… hurt!” He raised his hand towards her, and electricity danced between his gloved fingertips and her face. She could smell her own flesh scorching. He held the shock for only a moment. Some of the goblins held their tongues out at the smell of scorched flesh.
He crouched down closer to her level
“Now. Where is the rune?” She could not respond, but even if she could have she would have remained silent. His eyes wandered to a clasp she wore around her neck. The horse’s blood had trickled down and pooled around it.
“What do we have here?” He lifted the clasp and opened it. He removed a small circular stone with some carvings on one side. A laugh escaped from his throat.
Then the smile went away again. The frown replaced it once more.
“Or is this just a fake? A decoy to throw me off course? Maybe our little elf lady… is a little tricky.” The goblins began to chuckle.
“Let’s see shall we?” He produced a small vial from his cloak, and emptied half of the blue liquid it contained onto the stone. The carvings shone a luminous purple.
Another chuckle escaped his lips. “That was far too easy.” A blade slid from his sleeve above his arm. The last thing the Ancient of the Elves ever saw was his blade coming towards her eyes.
He tore the clasp from her neck and placed the rune into it again. He turned to his reptilian companions.
“It would be best if the master didn’t know about this.” The mage said to the goblins.
“B-b-but s-sir the master must know eveyting dat happen...” the goblin trailed off.
“That’s too bad.” The mage raised his hand and lightning blasted from his fingertips. It turned night to day in the valley, and crackled the air. The blue energy arced over to the goblins, superheating their bodies. They exploded with a spray of sizzling flesh and blood.
The mage’s blood began to speed through his veins at a superhuman speed. His breath sped up, his heart began to hammer, and his pupils became abnormally large. He would always love the rush. He knew this “rush” came from the massive amount of energy surging through the body when a powerful spell is cast. It was dangerous to cast unnecessarily powerful spells, for it had killed many mages in the past. But he didn’t seem to care.
After it had passed, he placed the clasp over his neck, and then mounted his horse once more. As he rode through the forest, he held out his arms and the forest on either side of him burst into roiling orange and red flames.



Meanwhile up the eastern side of the valley…

A figure stood perched in the branch of a great oak. He watched as the forest a mile away ignited in two rows. The flames reflected off his brown eyes, making them glow an amber color. An old man strode up behind him silently, carrying a lantern. His hair was a long and flowing river of silver. He was very old, but was still noticeably muscular.
“Danad,” the old man said. The shadow turned to face him.
“Yes master Kendar?” The shadow stepped into the light of the lantern, taking form. He was eighteen and a half, with dark short cut hair. He was tall, but not lanky.
“The time has come for the final test.” Kendar tossed Danad a sheathed sword. He caught it and slid the blade out. Kendar drew his own long sword.
Danad had been preparing for this for the last eight years of his training. His parents, whom he had never known, died when he was young, and left him with Kendar.
“Remember, young one, if you need to stop at any time...”
“I’ll be fine master.”
Kendar brought his sword above his head, and down slashed towards his apprentice. He blocked easily.
“Come now, master. This is not the time to hold back,” Danad said with a smile curling at the edge of his mouth.
“You’re right,” replied Kendar. He brought up his sword at Danad, who blocked just in time. Before Danad could ready himself, Kendar brought a flurry of stabbing attacks toward him.
The two were locked in battle again for several minutes until Kendar took several steps back and muttered a single word. “Come.”
Danad charged in and leapt into the air. He landed inches in front of his master, in a slide. He quickly brought his sword’s tip to the neck of his elder.
“I win,” he said breathlessly.
“Look again, child,” Kendar responded.
That was when Danad realized that there was cold prick in the middle of his back. Kendar pushed his blade down on his apprentice and shoved him back to his starting spot next to the oak.
“You can do better than that, child.”
Danad got back up slowly and cracked his knuckles. He would have to try harder
Once again he charged, but this time he held his sword at his side. He leapt once more, this time not landing in front of his master, but on him. He brought his knee into the old man’s arm, causing him to drop his weapon.
He had thought victory was his until they hit the ground. Somehow he was on the bottom, with his master on top, holding his sword. The sword snuck under his armor, touching his warm belly flesh.
“I win,” Kendar said and got up, then offered his hand to Danad. He accepted and rose to his feet.
“I’ve failed,” Danad said. His head hung low. He was shamed, and had shamed Kendar.
“Not exactly. Let’s discuss that later. Right now let’s see what happened down in the valley.”


The forest along the path was blackened into cinders and ash. Entire trees were turned completely into charcoal. A few of the trees were still smoldering. Kendar knelt down and sifted through the ashes. He rose and smelled about for a moment, then said “Magic.”
“But who would do such a thing?” Danad said as he slid down a steep muddy embankment. He looked about. “No real damage was done.”
“It wasn’t about damage,” Kendar said glancing around. “Whoever did this did it because they could. Use of unnecessary power... suggests someone dark...” He trailed off, thinking deeply.
“Master!” Danad’s voice came from over a small rise. As Kendar approached he saw that his apprentice was kneeling over a bundle of cloth pinned beneath a dead horse.
Kendar strode quickly to his side. Then he realized the cloth was an old elf wrapped up in bloodied robes. She was dead, a cut going in through her forehead into her brain.
Several feet behind her, there were splatters of black blood on the ground. Kendar walked over to them, seeing chunks of flesh scattered in a halo around the splats of blood.
“Goblin flesh,” Kendar said. “Whoever did this killed these goblins... it was a powerful mage, with no fear to use powerful and deadly spells.....”
“You got it, old man,” a voice called from the woods. Kendar and Danad whipped around. A relatively young man with long brown hair was striding up the path. On his forehead was the mark of a mage academy, Sho-Diod, if Danad was correct. On his arms were strange weapons known as soliad, after the mage who had invented them. They consisted of a blade resting on the arm, up to the wrist, with leather straps keeping it on. With a thought, a mage could extend the blade fully, and could use them as a weapon.
“You did this?” Kendar asked calmly. He gestured to the burned forest.
“Wow. You must be the great and wise Kendar.” The man said sarcastically. He looked him up and down and a chuckle escaped from his throat.
“What’s so funny?” Kendar said with a straight face.
“You,” the man responded. “You are the mighty swordsman Kendar? Slayer of the beast of Poncharid? Master of Keitan-Ren sword stance? If so, the years have not been kind.” He shook his head.
“Yes!” Danad said angrily. “Yes he is the great and wise Kendar! And you should treat him with some respect!” The man laughed once again.
“I don’t give respect to those who I will kill.” He said with a swaggering arrogance.
Danad let out a yell and leapt at the man, his sword raised above his head. The man smirked and held his hand foreword. Danad froze in midair, and then violently jerked back into a charred tree. Cinders and soot crashed down on him. The man turned once more to Kendar.
“Come on, old man. Let’s see what you have up your sleeve. And I’ll show you what’s up mine.” He didn’t even move, and the soliad snapped forward. A confident smile now dominated his face.
“You will lose against me.” Kendar was still calm. “But before one of us dies, let’s continue with... polite formalities. What’s your name, young man?”
His smile grew larger, if at all possible. “I’ll tell you, because you die this day anyway. You see, my birth name was... not correct. My true name is Ky... short for Kionus.” All of Kendar’s confidence vanished instantly. Ky flexed his fingers.
Kendar made the first attack. A bad move, as it turned out. Ky agilely dodged his first three attacks, then stuck in a small blow to Kendar’s face with the tip of his soliad.
“Come now. I will need a more advanced technique than that.”
This time Kendar waited for his opponent to attack. Also a poor choice. Ky leapt high into the air, and came down with his blades flying. Kendar blocked the first few blows, then was lightly attacked on his shoulder. Ky rolled back and crouched.
“I was expecting more from one as ‘great’ as you.”
“You will get much more, child.”
“Good. This has been far too easy to satiate my hunger for a good fight.” Ky went in for a final attack, but now Kendar showed his true speed, and ducked under the stab. He brought his sword up, but Ky just flipped over him. He couldn’t turn, and felt the soliad bite into his back. He let out a grunt, and fell to the ground. Laughter filled his ears.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to offer me? Sad. I’ll have to end your life now.” That’s when Kendar whipped around with a knife and stabbed Ky in the leg. Blood squirted from the wound.
Ky fell backwards and said something indiscernible. A moment later, the ground beneath Kendar turned into a thick mud, and it was up to his knees in a second. There it stopped.
“So you’re more resourceful than you had first appeared,” Ky said as he stood up. Kendar was already breaking loose of the suddenly dry ground.
“Hurry it up, and let’s get on with me killing you.” Ky said, now calm once more. His wound had already stopped bleeding.
“You’re arrogance will kill you.” Kendar gasped as he tore loose of the last chunk of earth. His silver hair and beard now were dusted to a dark brown.
“That’s what the last person swordmaster I killed said. Now get up and die.”
Kendar attacked once again, his sword in one hand and his knife in the other. He stabbed with the sword, and blocked with the knife. Then he switched, making small slashing motions with his knife, and using his sword to fend off the blows that were soon coming from nearly every direction. Finally, he forced his opponent to his knees. He pressed his sword to his neck, staying out of attack distance.
“So you have beaten me.” Ky said, looking surprised.
“Like I said, your confidence destroyed you.” Kendar was dripping of blood from his back, his shoulders, and his nose. But he smiled.
“Any last words?” Kendar asked.
“Yeah. Just a few.” Ky held his arm out, palm outward. Kendar’s robes suddenly burst into flames, and he went flying backwards. He hit the ground from thirty feet in the air, and the fire died as quickly as it had started.
When he got up, Ky finally spoke. “Die slow, old man.” Finally, Danad got up and ran towards Ky. He whipped around and grabbed Danad’s head. “We may have a use for you.” he said. Danad blacked out, and collapsed.