The Eye of the Phoenix

[Darg]

The Eye of the Phoenix

This is my first piece I am creating for the Fan Fiction section, and I am quite thankful that I can finally show my writing to others. This is the first chapter I am making in a series of stories. Please tell me any comments or questions you may have.

Chapter One~ The Blood Debt

It was night in Knothole Glade. Veros was sitting in his home on the hill, looking out into the vast darkness. It was autumn, a time of peace and new beginning, of friends and fellowship, but something gripped his heart in an icy prison. There was something that was troubling him, a dream that he had the previous night that left a burning mark in his mind. It was rare for a strong, knowledgeable one such as Veros to be frightened, but this dream forced him awake from the haze-like shroud he had been living his life in.

In his dream, he was walking through Witchwood as he always did on weekends to calm his nerves. A calm rain was falling and the sound of a nearby bird could be heard. He stepped through a clearing, where a few flowers grew in all colors and sizes. He stopped to pick one up and could smell the fragrant scent flowing off the petals. Suddenly, the flower caught fire, a green, flickering blaze that engulfed it totally. It crumbled to ash and fell out of Veros’ grip to the grass below. As he looked up from the ashes, he realized that the field was burning. A tall, emerald wall of flames circled the clearing, trapping him in the center. He gazed at the sky above, watching in horror as its soft azure color was slowly replaced by massive blood-red clouds that obscured all light. A wild urge to escape filled Veros as he sprinted blindly through the clearing. He reached the flame wall, screaming and shouting for anyone, anyone at all. Silence greeted him as he could hear the far-off call of a balverine. He spun around to behold what he feared most, the one thing in all of Albion that struck fear into his heart.

“I’ve been waiting Veros,” said the voice of Jack of Blades, standing in the center of his fiery ring, his crimson cloaks fluttering around him like the wings of a great evil moth and his eyes reflecting the dark fire of the wall. “You have debts to pay.”
“What debt do I owe you?” Veros said, his voice shaking and his hand on his hilt.
Jack drew his blade, running his gloved finger over the edge of it as he hissed, “Do not be so naïve, Veros. Because of you and your bloodline, I have walked this damned earth looking for another suitable weapon of a true god after your ancestors destroyed my last blade, the Eye of the Phoenix. It was your great, great grandfather that sent my weapon over the cliffs of infernal judgment and ended my short reign over Albion. You are the last member of the bloodline to date, and it appears your luck has run out.”

Veros was sweating as he heard this. Many years had passed since his grandfather had told him the story of their past, and how glorious it was that their family, the Bantain family, had defeated Jack of Blades once. Now it had come back to haunt him. “What do you want from me, demon?” he screeched as he drew his long iron sword and looked into the deep fiery eyes of Jack.
“You owe me nothing,” he said darkly, “Nothing but a blood debt Veros.” With that, Jack swung his blade, fast and in a single motion, killing Veros. He awoke screaming to find that his hand was on the hilt of his sword and he had made a puddle of sweat. He had not slept the rest of the night. Jack of Blades was going to find him.

End Chapter One.

 

[Dark Drakan]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Liking this start so far, very detailed and descriptive and really liking the scenes you are setting.... really great piece +rep! :thumbsup:

 

[Angel]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Looks good - keep it coming!

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Thank you. I have always wanted to write a story of some sort about the Fable universe. There are so many characters and so many things you could explore that it's awesome. After this story, look for some more ones.

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

This is the second installment. It does not contain as much action as the first, but I assure you, it's only building plot.

Chapter Two~ The Dawn Breaker

“Lovely day, isn’t it Veros?” was the first thing the innkeeper, Badris said in his deep gravelly voice as he poured him a glass of Knothole Ale. “It looks like something’s botherin’ ya my friend. You don’t look yaself.” Evident by his dialect, Badris was not very well educated, the obvious reason he was a simple innkeeper.
“Oh, Badris. Something is bothering me. You knew my grandfather, Jericio Bantain, right?” Veros responded, sipping from the glass deeply as he looked around the inn, empty, save for a frustrated bard and a drunken woodcutter. Badris looked at Veros intently as he cleaned a glass with an old rag.
“Yes. A good man e’ was. Gave me most o’ my business back when this here inn was naught but a small pub. Why do ya ask?”
Veros remembered for a moment how his grandfather was quite the jolly man, the reason he got along well with Badris, good-hearted and good-humored by virtue as he said, “Did he once tell you of our ancestry and of the Eye of the Phoenix?”
Badris stopped cleaning the glass at once and stared at Veros for a moment, “Aye. A bold tale and a great one at that. Your great grand father was a brave man, the wielder of a powerful blade e’ told me, the one that sent Jack’s blade into oblivion.” Veros motioned for him to continue, his eyes becoming wide as a child waiting intently, “This blade e’ told me was called The Dawn Breaker, a weapon so powerful it could hew a might Greatwood oak in half! E’ said it was forged in the mountains by master smiths and designed by the greatest scholars Albion has ever known. I s’pose it could only be a myth, knowing about all the tall tales your grandfather told me.”

“No, Badris. I know this is true. My grandfather would never lie about this. He told me about it once,” Veros suddenly said, “He once said that ‘when the dawn breaks and the fight is finished, what remains will be the Eye of the Phoenix.’”
“Eh? Sounds like a load of Hogwash if I ever heard it. I s’pose you could research it a bit though. I heard that Melinda Germain up the hill a ways knows about that sort o’ thing. She’s been recordin’ Albion history for as long as I can remember. If ya ask her about it, she could tell you a few details about yer grandfather. I imagine she has a couple o’ old journals layin’ around, knowing how she’s a bit of a nosy one.”
“Wait,” Veros interrupted, “What was that last bit?”
“She’s a bit of a nosy one? I thought ya knew. Why, she was snoopin’ around old man Rhodes’ house last night-”
“No, no, no! I mean the part about the journals.” Veros said, getting frustrated at his friend, whom he believed a dead hobbe was smarter than.
“Oh. Right then. Your grandfather told me that your great-grandfather kept journals on all o’ his trips through Albion, even the one where he defeated Jack. I imagine if they’re still around that they’d be little more than dust then my friend. Although I s’pose it wouldn’t hurt a thing to go see. Avo knows what sorts of things that woman has in her house.” With that, Veros was off to the old house of Germain, expecting the worse from the old woman. She was rumored to be a powerful mage, and when provoked, she could turn your entire body into a pile of ash in mere seconds. Veros hoped for his sake that Badris knew what he was talking about.

End Chapter Two.

 

[darthlime101]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Wow. That was poweful. Good use of dialouge with the inn keeper. I can't wait for the third chapter.

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Thank you. I like to develop the characters before getting into the plot a bit more, but trust me, there'll be more on the way!

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Behold, the third chapter. Trust me, after this one, I hope I can make some longer, more in depth chapters.

Chapter 3~ A Twilight Prophecy

The door of the house, golden rimmed and engraved with an inscription of unreadable figures in its center. The house itself was built in an untraditional style for Knothole Glade housing, three stories tall with arched windows and stone buttresses making it look like a refurbished cathedral. Veros rapped his fist on the large gold frame door, it making an ominous dull ring that suggested the house was rather large inside. He could see a dark shape across the room rise from its position and step towards the door slowly. The large engraved door swung open with the sound of the rusty hinges creaking in the air.

“Who in Skormm’s teeth is it now?” the hoarse, angry voice of Melinda Germain shouted, her sharp features coming into view. She was a short woman with an arched back and a head of untidy silver hair with black rimmed glasses resting precariously on the tip of her long, bent nose. “Who? Wait a minute- You’re Jericio Bantain’s grandson Verich or something right?”
“Um… it’s Veros,” he said, irritated that his simple name was so difficult to remember. “I believe you may have information concerning my great-grandfather if I am right. May I-“
“Come right in,” the withered old woman said, inviting Veros in with a gesture of her bony hands, “any relative of mister Jericio is welcome here. So what is it you seek?”
“I just-“Veros was again interrupted by the ever-irritable Germain.
“Oh yes, I know! You wanted to know something about your great-grandfather Voris.”
“It’s Veros. I wish to know about,” he paused and whispered beneath his breath, “The Dawn Breaker.”
“What?” Germain said, staring into Veros’ deep eyes. “Who told you about the sword? Dammit, I bet it was that bloody Badris down the hill. What do you know?”
Veros followed Germain to a table and two finely-carved chairs and sat down as he said, “Badris told me about how The Dawn Breaker was wielded by my great-grandfather when he defeated Jack and the Eye of the Phoenix. I need to know the details and you seemed to be the best source of information.”

“I don’t think you have the slightest idea boy, about what you’re getting into. The two swords are sacred as Albion itself and-“for the first time, it was Veros who interrupted the conversation.
“Look, I had a dream two nights ago about Jack. He came to me in my sleep and told me of the Eye of the Phoenix. He said that since I was the last of the Bantain bloodline that he would hunt me down and kill me to get revenge on my family for banishing his sword to oblivion. It’s just a dream but-“
“I have heard of this before,” Germain said, as she suddenly developed a far-off look in her old eyes, “It is called a Twilight Prophecy. It is a way that Jack can contact anyone while in a subconscious state. It is not merely a dream boy. This is reality. I know just what you need.” And so it was confirmed. Jack was alive and was not going to falter until Veros lie dead. As it was said in an ancient Bard’s poem, ‘Those who break the dawn, now nigh, they are the ones watched by the Phoenix Eye.”

 

[weirdkidinabox]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Its obvious you've put a lot of thought into the concepts behind the story- the twilight prophecy being the more prominent one that demonstrates this. Youre thinking about how things are happen, the reasons behind it and explaining it well instead of just assuming that the reader will know it straight off the bat. (I hope that made sense lol)

Its nice to see people putting effort into their stories, working in and around good storylines and advancing their plots instead of just going with a flurry of action. It still keeps a nice Fable vibe to it as well which is good. I totally loved the description during the dream sequence, the wall of emerald flames and blood red skies invoked wicked awesome visuals- which is something I find a lot of stories to be lacking. Congratulations on that dude. Ill be waiting on the next chapters coming along, I do hope you get more in depth with longer chapters ^_^

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

It's always a good thing to recieve good criticism. Thank you very much, and I have a new chapter ready for release. A few new twists are addressed, as well as something that changes the course of what happens in the story. Keep checking in!

Here we go on the fourth chapter of the series. Enjoy!

Chapter 4~ The Library

Veros was lead through the Melinda Germain’s house as he admired the impressive southern architecture and was astonished by her wealth. She lead him to a marble staircase, spiraling down through what seemed to be at least four stories. As he stepped down the long passageway, he noticed that a thin mist began to develop and the temperature dropped considerably. When they finally reached the bottom of the large stairwell, an area with flagstone flooring and oil lamps lighting the dim way, Melinda spoke.

“If I am not mistaken, you have heard of my library, no?” Veros nodded his head, “Very good. I have amassed every ancient scroll, book and archetype I could find and have assembled them in this, the library of Germain.” With that, she turned and snatched up one oil lantern, leading Veros through the dark, cold room, presumably a basement at one time. A large opening in the stone wall lead from the basement to a high-ceiling room lit by countless gilded chandeliers and adorned with huge, flowing tapestries of warriors and magicians great and numerous. This was the library. Rows upon rows of oak shelves, several stories tall lined the room, trolleys filled with books and scrolls in several different sections set the scene for the very impressive work. Veros’ jaw dropped open in amazement as he gazed around the grand room. Melinda noticed his expression, and took the chance to boast, “You like it, I see. It’s not very often that I get to show off this beauty to anyone. They all think I’m just the crazy old woman on the hill. But this, my boy, this is my life’s work. Thousands of works of literature and accounts of history are here within my library. Now come.” She marched away down a narrow row of shelves for a moment, Veros in tow, until she came upon a particular shelf where the books seemed to be coated in dust.

She hopped onto a trolley and climbed a tall ladder to one of the top shelves, searching through piles of aged scrolls and periodically humming and speaking to herself. After what seemed like ten minutes, she emerged and said triumphantly, “Ah-ha! Here it is boy,” she slid down the ladder with the agility of someone much younger before running a bony hand through her silver hair and turning to Veros, “You see this? This book is a writer’s account of what happened that night so very long ago. It also has a thorough history of the swords. I found this among the remains of an old chapel in my travels a few years past. Very old, yet very informative. Follow me.” When they reached a large, finely-carved oak desk filled with papers, Melinda slumped down in a wide-back armchair and motioned for Veros to sit opposite her in an equally large chair.

When they were both seated, Veros decided he wanted to pose the question that bothered him the most. “Ms. Germain. I know this is helping and all, but what can I do about this situation? Jack wants me dead and he is not going to stop with me just knowing about my history. I need to know how to stop him for Avo’s sake!”
Melinda opened the ancient text to the fifth page without looking up and began, “I’m most afraid I cannot help you in that. My knowledge with that is limited. However, I may be able to help you in another way. Listen to this. On this first page, a passage states, ‘Those of the Bantain-born beware the blood-king’s thorn, out of fire, ash and gold, it is made, the sword of old. May the noble Bantain, feel no anguish or pain, for in their bold hand, they must take the sword of the northern land. This is the blade that shatters the dark, Avo’s angels do hark, this is the sword of the ice lake, and with it the dawn you may break.’ This is it boy. It is saying that if a Bantain possesses The Dawn Breaker, then he is immune to Jack’s dark magic and the sword of old, The Eye of the Phoenix. You must find the sword and defeat Jack.”
“What in bloody hell are you talking about? I can’t just go off and try to find this sword! Besides, my grandfather said it was lost in the battle.” Veros said, not believing what he was hearing.

“Not so. It also says later that The Dawn Breaker runs through the ancient bloodline of the Bantain family, waiting for another worthy soul to claim its sacred hilt. Your great-grandfather was one of the Bantains to claim the sword. It reappears throughout your bloodline for the Bantain that is worthiest.” Melinda explained, rifling through the book and marking several pages with strips of Balverine hide.
“But how do I go about getting the sword? And what does it mean ‘a worthy soul’? This is too much! I can’t believe the lot of this.”
“You have to boy, if you want to save your life,” she paused, “and more importantly, your bloodline.” She put the book aside and pulled a smaller, more worn book from her desk drawer and placed it amidst the mess of papers on her desk. “Lucky for you, I have been looking at this book for awhile before you even arrived.”
“And what would that be?” said Veros anxiously.
“Actually, it is your great-grandfather’s journal of his travels.” The moment she said it, Veros snatched it off of the desk and stared at it in amazement. After all the long years, this was where the journal wound up at. Melinda continued, “Your great-grandfather was an impeccable writer as he was an adventurer, and accounted everything to the slightest detail. Let me see that,” She took the old book from Veros and flipped to a marker made in the page with another strip of Balverine hide.

She cleared her throat and read, “Day 15 of my illustrious adventure into the Northern wastes- My small party and I have landed ourselves into a dense grove of trees northbound of the lost harbor. The Lake of Bridmor is just over the hill, as my two scouts have already reported. It is here we will be making our camp tonight, in a place that the ice giants cannot reach due to the immense thickness of this grove. It is by this that we name this place ‘The Grove of the Savior’. We have already signaled the second party on the other side of the bay with a flaming arrow in the sky. They will bring us reinforcements and supplies when the time is ready. Day 16- It is a glorious day for my party and for my family. I have found what I have quested so very long and hard to find: The Dawn Breaker. It rested at the center of the lake, thrown amidst a sea of ice shards. It was a perilous feat crossing to the middle of the frozen water, with the constant danger of slipping and plummeting beneath the icy cold drink, as none of us were well equipped for swimming with our heavy platemail. I have truly proven to the sword my worthiness of wielding it by venturing here. The blade is magnificent and burns with the fire of thousands of ancestors before me who have wielded it. Soon we will be the talk of all Albion and will be legendary for years to come.”

“Incredible! That sounds exactly like how my grandfather told me. I just wonder why he didn’t inform me about how to find the sword,” Veros said.
“If I knew your grandfather right, and I did, then I know that he did not want you to know until you really needed to. He was a fickle man if not a great one,” Melinda stood up from her chair and presented Veros with the journal, “It would seem that you need this more than I ever will.”
Veros responded with a confused, “Why?”
“Why of course boy! You are going to the Northern Wastes. You should be packing.” Veros’ heart froze like ice (ironic) as he heard this. If Jack wouldn’t kill him, then the journey would first.

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Omg, I haven't been exactly so up-to date on this story. I swore to myself it wouldn't happen, but of course it did... Trust me, by tonight, there will FINALLY BE MORE!

 

[Angel]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Really looking forward to reading more

 

[Vegeta]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Me 2!!!

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Sorry I'm a bit late, people but bear with me. And thus we have my fifth chapter, a bit longer mind you, but I hope you'll enjoy it. In the future I'll try to update this story more.

Chapter 5~ The Stranger

It was about four o’clock in the morning when Veros was awake. He was wandering about his house in a haze, not remembering the previous night’s events. His mind was in a fog of some sort, not allowing him to see something, obscuring the truth. He stepped to his window, opening the thick shutters with a thin creak of rusty metal. Something was not right, in his mind and in the world. The overcast sky over Witchwood far beyond the Knothole Glade gate could be seen, mingled with rising fog and billowing smoke. Smoke? Veros was suddenly brought back out of his haze, realizing that something was definitely not right. He sprinted across his bedroom, snatched up his worn old cloak and darted out the front door, his heart pounding hard against his ribcage. As he stepped out into the village, his worst fears were confirmed. Witchwood was burning, a thick black smoke rising out of the autumn colors, vast crimson flames licking at the sky and scorching the ground. For a moment, there he stood, in a stunned silence, as he realized that Knothole Glade was as well burning. The inn was a scorched mass of oaken debris and every inch of the village was set ablaze with blood-red fury.

Veros’ mind was burning just as the city was. Who could have done this? But then it hit him like an earth troll. He spun around to realize the worst had come true. Jack stood amidst the flames, his scarlet cloak mirroring the surroundings eerily. Jack grasped Veros by his shirt and threw him against the general store outer wall, breathing in the smoke with a hoarse hissing sound. Jack approached Veros, dazed and wounded. He thrust him against the wall with his armored fist and drew his blade. “You see what happens when you try to do the impossible, Veros? I swear by my blade and the cursed blade of your kin that you will die where you stand,” said the sinister tone emanating from behind the dark mask. Veros could smell his breath, a smell that could only be described as a culmination of hopelessness and death. “Now this is what I have dreamed of doing for many years to the heir of the sword. No mortal can ever best Jack of Blades. You should no that by now.” The sword pierced Veros’ chest, making the burning fire in his mind explode in an unbearable sensation of pain.

And then he was awake. In his dark, dank room, he felt more alone than he ever had. Another Twilight Prophecy had come and gone, more terrifying and terrible than the last. Veros’ mind still stung with the horrible memory of his dream, everything he knew and loved ablaze and dying. The foul breath of Jack of Blades, the very scent that made souls scream he had smelled. It was now that he decided he would not give it, he would not stand by quietly while Jack destroyed everything he ever cared about without opposition. He would not be reluctant of the journey, and would take it on just as he wished to take on Jack. Veros swore from this day on he would not be a coward in the face of his one fear, but he knew one day he would come face to face with the source of all evil in Albion, the cold hand that urges on all darkness. On that day, he would stand his ground and face the fury. This he promised.

Just before dawn, a time that seemed to calm Veros’ nerves before the coming day was now a time of preparation for the oncoming challenge. He was in his room, ascending his makeshift staircase made of old dressers and chests to his attic, enclosed and crowded with family heirlooms and random trinkets. A thin layer of dust seemed to rest perpetually on the floorboards and a ceiling of cobwebs arched above the myriad of chests and crates. Veros weaved his way past a few rows of ancient chests before he reached one that stood out among the rest. It was made of silver and rare pearl, in which he kept his most valued of items. He pulled a long black key from his cloak pocket and fitted it in the old keyhole, turning it softly. The sound of a dull metal mechanism sounded and the chest popped open easily. Veros knelt, observing the items he had long ago forgotten, but now meant so much. On the top was the only weapon he had ever owned, a steel katana with a Balverine bone hilt, a weapon his own father had given him at the age of 18. He had once said that “this weapon, son, is to be only used in the case of emergency as you remember your honor and use it for defense only.” Now was that emergency. He grasped its hilt, strangely familiar after all these years. It shined with a brilliant light as if it was new, reflecting Veros’ face. He had a young-looking face for being 32 years of age, and had a messy head of auburn hair and a small goatee. Something came into his mind, but he brushed it off as usual.

Then, he realized the other contents of the chest. His eyes became wide and his heart heavy at the discovery of an old memory. A painting in a brass picture frame done long ago by a local artist lay atop a stack of assorted items quite amiss. It was the portrait of Melissa Bantain, his wife for two long happy years. One cold, dark day when she was off in Witchwood picking berries and other ingredients, he received the news that she had been mauled to death by a pack of balverines in the grove. What had taken place those lonely years after could not be explained. Veros tragically seemed to lose hope over everything and his life seemed empty. When he looked at himself now, all he could see was his own hopelessness in his eyes. He had loved Melissa more than anything in his entire life and without her; he was desolate and lived alone. Veros made another vow to himself that if he returned alive, he would change his life. He would be a new man and would rethink his life. Perhaps, love might ignite him again. If only…

Amidst the supplies in the chest was a heavy oak crossbow and several packages of iron-tipped bolts. Veros was never known to be much of a marksman, but possessed some of the best reflexes he had ever seen. He hoisted it out of the chest and put it in its place among his current items for his journey. The last item of interest in the forgotten chest was one that surprised him and brought up another long-lost memory. A bundle of alchemical supplies and a few potions lay in the bottom of the chest in a heap. Once, before his marriage, Veros was an expert alchemist and could make some of the best potions in all of Albion. Like many things, it was something you remembered how to do throughout your entire life. This, he knew would be useful, perhaps even life-saving. With this thought, he shivered. This trip could very well be the end of it… of it all. The long beautiful walks through Witchwood, the friendship with Badris and his entire existence could all disappear with ease. With this chilling thought, he bundled up his items in a leather sack along with his food and readied his nerves for what would alter the course of his entire life.

As he stepped out his door, Veros beheld an unusual sight. Around Badris’ tavern and inn, a large crowd was gathered, of citizens of Knothole Glade and even the mainland that he had never seen. Heaving his large cumbersome sack over his shoulder, he made his way through the crowd, past a band of Bowerstone children. Curiously, they were chattering and giggling as they looked at him with wide eyes with expressions of awe. They were talking about him? Something told him that this crowd had to do with the fact that he was traveling to the Northern Wastes. In Albion, gossip spreads like a wildfire, a wildfire in a forest of townspeople eager for information. Great, he thought, publicity. He approached the bar, where Badris and his assistant, Durig were handing out drinks in a hurry to the massive mob. Durig’s, thin lanky appearance contrasted greatly with Badris’ pudgy, overfed frame. Durig was a pasty-faced, blue-eyed teenager, presumably 18 Veros guessed. He had a dark head of hair, also contrasting with Badris’ large bald head, as well as a thin, black moustache. He was well-known as a local artist, creating impressive paintings of people and places about the village. His father painted the portrait of Melissa long ago.

Continued on another post due

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

...to character limits...

“Badris? What’s going on here? What’s with the crowd?” Veros asked anxiously.
“Veros my friend! Ye finally arrived ‘ere! Durig an’ I thought you got yaself lost in yer attic or somethin’ er the other. Welcome to the party. It’d appear ‘s though all these folks came to see you off. People find things out faster than you’d think friend. It’s good business fer me ya know. I got an order for fifty kegs of ale on me hands at the moment.”
“All these people? They came to see me off? I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I sir,” Durig said in his thin, wavering voice as he passed a frothing mug of Knothole Ale to a large man wearing a large hat, “It would seem as though you’re the talk of Albion. People have traveled from far and wide to see the adventurer soon to be off on his expedition.”
“Really? This is rather unsuspected. I think I just saw someone from all the way out at Oakvale here a few minutes ago.” Suddenly, out of the crowd stepped a tall, dark fellow with golden hair and a thin face, a long tattered coat on his shoulders and two tall boots rising up his ankles. He approached Veros, a curious look in his eyes as he put one hand on the bar.
The stranger sat down beside Veros at the bar and began to speak in a low tone, “You- I need to see you privately for a moment. Would you mind following me behind the tavern for a moment?” Veros looked at Badris for guidance, receiving a brief gesture in return. He shrugged it off and followed the man through the mob to the shaded area behind the inn where a rocky outcrop and a towering tree obscured it from the public view.

Here, the tall fellow sat down on a small boulder around a ring of dirt and pebbles, motioning for Veros to join him. He obliged, taking a seat on an opposite rock, seeing the stranger’s feature clearer now. He had a broad grin on his face and a small patch of hair on his chin as a beard. The stranger had thick eyebrows and large, expressive blue eyes with a perceived depth to them. His hair was finely groomed and was swept back, revealing his rather young-looking face. Veros guessed he was around twenty-five years of age, close to his age. With a sweep of his long arm, he pulled a pipe from the pocket of his aged coat and inserted it in the side of his mouth as he began, “I know you, Veros Bantain, and it could be said that I know all about you and about your family history. It would seem that it is time for you to know who I am. The name is Tom Meldrinas. I am a wanderer, an adventurer and even a preacher of stories and tales. Excuse my rather unusually appearance, as I have trekked through the unfamiliar terrain of Witchwood to get here. However, I assure you that I am here to help you, to offer you a proposition if you will.”
“And what would that be, Tom?” Veros said, wondering about the curious traveler and how he had come to know all about his family name.
“You see, as I know much about you from my many friends, I have come to learn you are apprehensive about this undertaking. If you will, I would be honored to accompany you on this journey… I can be quite the woodsman and navigator as well as a seasoned bowman when the situation demands it my friend. I have never been to the frozen isles of the north and I would savor the chance to see some new terrain. All I ask is one thing.”
“Really. I’m afraid I have not much to spare in the way of gold, but I can offer you-”
“No, no, and no Veros. I would never take money from anyone, but something of a different sort. On this undertaking, I request that we bring along four others to accompany us, as I believe traveling is best in a group, and in this case it could depend on our survival.” Tom said with a strange laugh, “And that is one of our top priorities.”
Veros looked Tom up and down with curiosity. He had never really seen one of his type, save for a few of his Bowerstone North relatives. He was a pure-blooded adventurer with a strange attitude for the unknown. “I-I suppose… What if they won’t… you know-”
“Not a problem,” said Tom, interrupting him yet again, “I have my ways. And besides, I also believe that your two friends out front, the barman and his assistant would be welcome additions to our travels.” Veros looked behind his shoulder in vain, wondering about something. He quickly shrugged it off, realizing that he secretly wished for companionship on the long ordeal that was to come, though he tried not to show it in the face of Tom. It was just Veros’s strange way to avoid things. He motioned for Tom to follow him as he returned to the front of the tavern, weaving through the crowd again to resume his position at the bar.

As Veros noticed Badris and Durig’s suspicious looks at Tom, he said, “Badris, Durig. This is Tom Meldrinas, adventurer and woodsman. He has a proposition for you two.”
Badris and Durig looked at eachother with brief uncertainty before facing Tom as he began, “Greetings, friends. It would seem as though our friend here Veros has found himself in quite a quandary. You all know that there is unspeakable peril in the dark twilight zones of the Northern Wastes, the place of lost souls. Would you, his loyal friends, allow him to venture here alone, to face his fate amidst ice and burning frost? I should think not. I ask that four companions accompany him on his journey, as well as I. You could make for two.”
“Hold on just a minute there, now!” Badris said in a rather frustrated tone, never the one to savor being bossed around, especially by unknown travelers from distant lands, “Ya cannot just expect fer us to be up an’ with ya when we have jobs, lives an’-”
“We’ll go.” Everyone turned to Durig, surprised that he had spoken, the boy usually being quiet and reserved.
“But Durig…” Badris said, his voice fading.
“No, Badris. I’ve already made up my mind long before even this. I’ve always wanted to see the Northern Wastes, and along with that, the world of Albion. You know you can’t stay here your whole life Badris. Let’s take a chance and see somewhere new. Do it for Veros. Do it for me. I can’t do this alone you know.” That seemed to be just about the longest speech Veros had ever heard Durig speak. They were bold words. Veros had never been prouder of the boy than this day. Though hope was limited, Veros felt a sudden spark of it, now that he knew someone was behind him as he went on his way. He suddenly caught a glimpse of Tom’s curious expression, a brief wide smile before it disappeared. Whatever it meant, he could never be quite sure. Whatever it might have meant, things were looking good… for now at least.

 

[Eclipse]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Nice job sounds great

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Thank you. I apologize again that progress is slow, but as you can imagine, I have writer's block and little time.

 

[Angel]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Argh - writer's block is the worst...I have to go and read a zillion books and play Fable over and over again until my inspiration comes back to me...

Of course, having a five year old constantly nagging for something means I get zip all done most of the time....

I really like it - keep going!

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

Fable- the ultimate source of inspiration. After I play it, I get inspired as well. Just be patient and I'll eventually develop something or the other...

 

[Darg]

Re: The Eye of the Phoenix

And so here we have the sixth installment of my saga. I hope you enjoy, and don't give up on me just because I take so long to come up with this. Here we are...

Chapter 6~ What Lies Ahead…

Badris looked for a moment into a mug of ale, as if pondering something, and he indeed was. Veros could see it in his eyes. It was something that Veros had the uncanny ability for, noticing thoughts through others’ eyes. He could tell the anxiety that Badris was now facing, choosing either to leave his job, his life and his family far behind or to abandon a friend in need. It was the biggest decision he had ever made, but he could not help considering Durig’s determination to go with Veros. He cherished the boy as if he was his son, and the thought of him leaving for that long would worry him. He made his decision.

“I- I’m going… but you have to promise me this one thing, Tom.” Tom cocked his head, a knowing expression crossing his bright face, “I need to go home and tell the news to me wife before I pack. I can’t leave without telling her what’s happening… I mean-”
A deep look developed in Tom’s deep azure eyes as he said, “Ah, I have once encountered this. My own wife has faced troubles with me, leaving off for adventures for months and seasons on end. Give it to her straight and gather your wits for the journey is all I have to say my friend.” Veros imagined it for a moment what Tom’s wife might be like. He wondered if she was as adventurous and strange as Tom…
Badris nodded, “I see, Tom. I just hope she’ll understand. Durig, lock up the tavern. I’m afraid it won’t be open for a long time my boy.” Veros sensed a tone in Badris’ voice that he had never heard before, a far-away sound that seemed full of sorrow and a bit of regret. I suppose Veros did not much blame him.

Veros suddenly realized something, turning to ask Tom, “What of the other two? Who else could come with us?” Tom gestured loosely to the right, Veros looking over to discover that in fact, two others had arrived. The two were Melinda Germain and Finrar Vodruke, always revered as the town eccentric, though he was exceedingly intelligent. Finrar was fairly short, with curious dark gray eyes and dark hair the hue of burnt timber. His face seemed wise, though he was gaunt and generally had a strange or humorous look playing across his face. A pair of sideburns hung down around his ears and two thick, bushy eyebrows dominated most of the area above his eyes. He was known as the town eccentric mostly because he was the only practitioner of the power of will, and could use all manner of spells, dark or light.

“What- these two?” Veros asked with suspicion.
“Yes, I know you may have your questions, but trust me as you trust yourself, Veros. I know these two, and they will make excellent travelers, my friend.” Tom stated.
Before Veros could respond, Melinda spoke, “You see, I am not just an old woman like you may thing, Mister Bantain! I am an experienced healer, and if you want to make it out there in the Northern Wastes, you’ll more than need me.”
Finrar Vodruke stepped forward, saying in his lighthearted voice, “I know you may not know me much, Veros, but I know you. And I’d be more than honored to help you on your journey. Besides, if you need an experienced will user, I’m your man.” At that, Veros decided he would no longer protest. Something told him he would not win if he tried to argue anyway.
“So, is it settled, my friend? It is in your hands when we depart.” Tom said, everyone looking at him hopefully.
Veros responded without regret this time, something within him reassuring him, “Yes, Tom. We depart at noon. How will we get there, may I ask?”
“Why, none other than a boat donated by a few kindly sailors who’ve come all the way from Oakvale. It’s a beautiful ship resting out on the Witchwood docks named the Sea Wolf. It’s a mighty nice ship, if I’d say so myself. You may not realize it, Veros, but you are the talk of Albion right now. With the rise of all these legends, and whatnot, you’ve earned yourself a special place in the peoples’ minds. You may just be the one to face down Jack of Blades himself and win the day.”

This thought ran a chill down Veros’ spine as he imagined what it would be like, or what it would even feel like, to be in the presence of Jack of Blades, not in a dream, but in reality. This thought he pushed to back of his mind, choosing not to consider it until the moment finally came. The morning passed quicker than he had expected, but for the first time since he had found out about his duties, he was happy and carefree. He and the five others journeying with him sat around the empty tavern, drinking and passing the time with tales and stories of their past adventures. His previous thoughts about his traveling companions banished, Veros finally found that he might actually enjoy the trip with the company of a few good friends. Friends? Yes it was true, they were not only companions on a journey, but they had already forged some bond that none could explain, not even Avo above. He had even come to know Finrar a bit, and had found that he was a rather humorous person, despite all the odd rumors about him eating tree bark and being more than a bit off his rocker. He even found that Durig, the quiet one, had more to him than what met the eye. He was actually quite a witty person with bold and beautiful ideas in his mind. Veros imagined that this was why he made such a talented artist. Melinda Germain, he knew would be a help, as she had already demonstrated her knowledge with her vast collection of information about Albion that little knew about. Badris seemed to have adjusted to the thought of the journey, now that he was in good company, something that lifted Veros’ spirits even higher. Somehow, some way, they’d make it.

It was a half-hour before noon and the bright autumn sun was in the center of the Witchwood sky. The band of travelers and Veros were assembled by the Witchwood docks, two sturdy long platforms that stretched out of the side of a rocky beach north of the glade. Veros could smell the scent of the seawater and the crisp air as he looked out to sea. He had only been at sea once before, on a brief expedition with a traveling party to an area south of Oakvale where there was believed to be pirates. He remembered that Melissa had been there, supporting him along the way. He remembered with a smile how she had bravely gone, ignoring his protests, always the bold one. She actually proved herself by saving the majority of the party from the pirate raiders with an impressive display of marksmanship, picking them off with ease. Melissa was always an adventurous sort, and in some strange way, reminded him of Tom.
“Now gather ‘round my friends. I must show you something,” said Tom, raising his voice over the murmur of conversation on the dock. On a large, wooden crate at the center of the dock, Tom had unraveled a vast map of Albion with torn, yellowed edges and various markings along with the occasional map marker of some point of interest. In the top right corner was scrawled in a long, thin writing:

T Meldrinas ​

​

Under his signature was a message that stated, “As long as the west wind does blow, as long as the river waters flow, and as long as falls the snow, traveling through this world I will go.” Veros thought about it for a moment, the quote in the back of his memory, though he could not recall it at the moment. It was almost as if something was blocking him from remembering, but he shrugged it off, gathering around Tom along with the rest of the crew.

Tom took a deep breath of the crisp air before fixing the small crowd with a stare and a smile, “Ah… It always uplifts my spirits when I am near the sea. Well, my friends, this is what I call a crossroads in life. It is the turning point that leads into a new chapter of the story of our lives. Nothing can prepare you for what we will face, but you must remember that this is not just a trip, a journey or adventure. No, this is a task far greater than what you could have ever imagined. This is a fight against Jack of Blades himself, and we must remember what this is. This is our duty and our destiny. This is what you will be remembered for and this is the time that legends are made. Keep this in mind as we set forth on our legendary quest.” All the while Tom was giving his small speech, Veros looked into his eyes. A fire emerged in his deep blue eyes and was the essence of what Tom was: an adventurer and a leader. With Tom by their side, Veros was assured that they could make it.

Tom spoke once more, gesturing towards the crate, “And with that, may I direct your attention to my portal to Albion, the Meldrinas family map. This very map has led Sir Monty Meldrinas of the Shadborrow Court through the dark channels of Keep Crestfire. This very map has also guided the way of Bontimor Meldrinas to great riches and plunder off the coast of old Hook Coast. And it is this very map that will lead us to the grand sword, the Dawn Breaker and to destiny’s gate. Now, if you will see here, we are on the northern shore of Witchwood. A vast sea awaits us, but we will take the Sea Wolf, the Oakvale ship, on a roundabout way northwest of here. We cannot traverse the sea between here and the mainland, for that would be far too dangerous, as Kraken sightings have been alarmingly high. This has not all disadvantages, for on this way, we will steer our way into the port of Hook Coast and restock for the rest of the way. It is then that the real journey will begin. From there, we will go directly north, through perilous waters. At Hook Coast, I imagine we can recruit a few good crewmen to help us navigate this area, as it is highly treacherous. We should arrive at the lost harbor on the southern shore of the Northern Wastes ten days from our departure from Hook Coast if my calculations are correct. We will not need to speak of the remainder of the journey until that moment is nigh. Before we depart, have you lot any questions?”

The crew looked about nervously, wondering of what would lie ahead. Then, they nodded, ready for anything that might come their way, whether it be Krakens, Balverines and Ice Trolls… Oh my!

More awaits...