MFE
Apr 24, 2007 4:29:24 GMT -5
Post by Damien on Apr 24, 2007 4:29:24 GMT -5
Short version:
• Oromis was captured
• Rayl was assassinated
• Eragon took over the Varden
• The Varden split because the Surda and Varden leaders aren’t happy with him.
• Eragon takes the urgals, some of the riders and the elves for a direct charge
• The Varden and Surda, led by King Orrin, stay behind and may provide backup (Varden players have to chose which side to take)
• The armies of Eragon and Galbatorix collide in a hilly area near Furnost.
Long version:
The dungeons had been renovated since the last time he was here. Apparently, the builders had gone deeper and deeper underground, until they hit rock. And then they dug around it. From what he could see, he was in the absolute lowest cell.
Oromis shifted slightly. The bed was lumpy and the blankets threadbare, but it was better than nothing. There was even a table, some chairs, a candle holder and some writing material. Someone had refurnished the cells, or at least this one. Before, there had only been a pile of hay. He turned to inspect the walls.
This has got to be a joke.
It was exactly the same dungeon as the one he was previously in, except better furnished and a lot deeper down. There were the familiar bloodstains, and the graffiti. His blood, his graffiti. Delusional with pain after they were done torturing him, he started writing. Drawing. Deprived of ink he used the only material available to him; blood. Looking at it now was humiliating. Someone, somewhere, was having a good laugh at his expense.
Footsteps. He turned to face the door. It was heavy, five inches worth of wood and with hinges artfully rusted over to produce the maximum amount of creak. There was no chance that he could get it opened at all, let alone without alerting anyone.
Keys jingled. He could hear it being slotted into the keyhole, and watched as a burly guard forced it open. With a creak like that, there was no point pretending to be asleep. He clapped his hands over his ears and moaned, inwardly cursing. Decades ago, doors were not made of creak. Opening the doors was not a form of torture.
A minute later, the screeching stopped. He removed his hands from his ears and stared, wide eyed, at the figure in the doorway. It was small, slight and of indeterminate gender. It smiled humorlessly and said, “I designed this place.”
Well, that was it. The Forsworn had been replaced by people even more vicious. Oromis could only hope that Glaedr was better off than him.
---
Glaedr lay, helpless, deep within Ellesmera. The men and riders who had had taken Oromis couldn’t do the same to Glaedr. He was too big to carry and not important enough to bother with, so they merely poisoned him. The gold dragon was only conscious enough to know that his rider was alive, but no more. It was uncomfortable, being so far from his rider. And the poison circling his veins wasn’t making things any easier.
The elves were at a loss. They had no idea what poison was used, the only thing clear was that it wasn’t immediately fatal. Glaedr’s body temperature shot upwards and his breath burned the trees. The earth beneath his feet was as hot as the desert sand at midday, and the grass wilted within minutes. He was surrounded by a perpetual heat haze. None of the elves wanted to approach the dragon.
Within his ring of scorched grass, Glaedr hoped that Oromis was faring better.
---
Despite his earlier assumption, the Oromis wasn’t treated too badly. He wasn’t starved or tortured, for one. The door was only locked at night, but he knew better than to try escaping. The only ones who could open it were men with muscles like oxen, and the creak would’ve alerted everyone anyway.
It was odd, though. It seemed they were just trying to keep him alive, but he wasn’t sure why.
---
It was around seven in the morning, and a servant knocked three times on the solid wooden door. There was no answer. She knocked again, several times, before giving up and slowly pushing the door open. Her tray hit the floor with a crash as she gasped, and ran away. Inside the room, lord Raylborn’s corpse was pinned to the table by a sword through his stomach. There were no signs of any struggle, just a mess of paper. He had been bound, gagged, and probably died from strangulation, not blood loss. Raylborn’s own sword had been used, and the stab was most likely just for dramatic impact.
Nobody knew who murdered him, or what they had hoped to gain from it.
---
The day of Lord Raylborn's burial had arrived. Raylborn's body was placed within a simple wooden box. Eragon Shadeslayer, and five other members of the Varden had volunteered to bare his body west across Surda, to Aberon, where he would be laid to rest.
"What will you do now, little one?" Saphria asked, lowering her scaly head next to where Eragon was sitting.
Eragon did not speak for a moment as he looked over the desert landscape of Surda, to where thousands of people were grouped around a single, prone figure; Raylborn. The body was placed high in the air, on a pyre. The screams of grief could be heard echoing across the countryside like dying Banshees.
I'm going to lead the Varden. Eragon answered.
Saphira's eyes narrowed into a frown.
"Is that wise?"
Yes.
"The Council of Elders will want your head if you attempt to overthrow them."
The Council of Elders is gravely mistaken if they think they can stop me. I'm the only one who can lead the Varden, and you know it. Jormundr will agree with me.
"Are you certain about this?"
Absolutely.
"...Then I am with you. Come, the funeral will begin shortly." Saphira said, lowering her massive body to the ground.
Eragon's dark eyes opened. He raised himself from the ground and walked to Saphira's side. He grasped a rope on the saddle, then used it to launch himself onto Saphira's back. Once Eragon was settled, Saphira took off into the air with a gust of wind. In a few seconds, she was circling over the crowd. he swooped downwards, over the pyre and landed in a section that was cleared for her. Eragon leapt from her back, and walked to join the Elders, who were standing on a platform in front of Raylborn's pyre.
---
Eragon gave Jormundr a firm handshake as Jormundr moved to make his speech. A hush fell over the throng as Jormundr raised a hand.
"Raylborn is dead."
A wail went up from the people. Jormundr silenced them again.
"But do not weep, because Raylborn would not have allowed it. He was the greatest of us. His silent, brooding genius has kept us alive these times, but no longer. Our leader is fallen, our condition has worsened. The Empire is great, and we are weakened. We shall not, however, flee to our graves, waiting for the Empire to throw us in them. We must take up the mantle Raylborn dropped, and continue forward! Our body is broken, our leader is dead, but our resolve has never been stronger! Long live Raylborn! Long live The Varden!"
A magnificent cheer tore through the sky from the throats of every man, woman and child. Jormundr raised his arms, and closed his eyes, basking in the power of the multitude's cries.
"Saphira!" he shouted over the throng, "Light the pyre! The smoke that rises will be like our grief, fleeing into the nothingness. When there is nothing but ash, the Varden will be made anew!"
Saphira crouched to the ground and leapt into the air, her massive wings carried her through the sky until she hovered over the grand pyre. There was a rumbling in her throat, and a stream of flame erupted from behind her teeth. The pyre was taken with it and turned to a pile of ashes in only a few seconds. Saphira landed, and looked at Eragon.
Eragon took seven steps forward, and raised his hand. The crowd was silent.
"The Varden is made new. I, Eragon Shadeslayer, am its new leader."
The earth shook with stomping, cheers and roaring applause.
---
In the privacy of his own room, King Orrin fumed. How dare he! The rider was barely a man, and already he was trying to take over! The Council of Elders had been against it. The boy hadn’t consulted anyone on his decision, simply taking over as though he owned the place. Ajihad’s death had ruined everything. Nasuada was a competent ruler, he gave her that. However, Raylborn didn’t do anything and now this child would take the Varden on a suicide charge.
Well, he’d be gravely mistaken if he thinks he would get help from me. Surda will have no part in any of this.
---
Master, why did you have to capture the elf again? Shruikan asked, puzzled. And why that elf? He’s a rider, sure, but an utterly useless one. We made sure of that. And why did you order Raylborn’s assassination? It serves no purpose. He regarded Galbatorix quietly and waited for an answer.
“That elf, helpless as he is, is very important to both the Elves and Eragon. And now that Eragon has taken over the Varden, it is safe to assume that he will come for his mentor. Also, should I have taken Islanzadi instead, there is no doubt that either the elves would fall into chaos or that the Queen’s little girl would inherit her throne.” He laughed quietly. “Now, all that’s left is to see if Eragon would make the Varden stronger, or destroy it.”
In other words, you’re just bored.
Galbatorix scowled at him.
---
“They’re all ready, Eragon. When are we leaving?” Arya asked. Her voice was a mere whisper. Two weeks of frantically preparing the troops was taking its toll. While Eragon readied the riders, urgals and the few humans that joined them, Arya took care of the Elven army. They were highly-strung, very much overworked and quite stressed. Eragon seemed to have no idea how to control an army, and didn’t want to listen.
“As soon as possible. I want the Empire taken down now.”
Arya sighed. “We don’t have enough troops, Eragon. Not many of the Varden trust you enough to follow, and King Orrin doesn’t want to fight. I don’t think the dwarves like us very much, either. Now that king Hrothgar is gone, they don’t have any reason to fight.”
“Aye, what she says.” They turned to face a small, dark shape standing by the door. “They’re going to wait it out. No king lasts forever, and dwarves can survive without humans.” Orik shook his head and sighed. “They won’t join us. I’ve convinced a few dwarves to help you, and some want to avenge our king. But the vast majority . . . they don’t care.”
Eragon was silent. “So it’s just the elves and the urgals, then? Well, it doesn’t matter. We have enough men.” Something in Arya snapped. She swung him around to face her, and hissed, “No, we don’t have enough men. Going against the Empire now, with the kind of manpower we have, is suicide. I don’t want to send my people to die a pointless death! Don’t you understand!?” At the end of it, she was almost yelling.
He jerked out of her grip and eyed her warily. “We could at least take some of the border, right? And in the chaos, send someone to save Oromis. He doesn’t deserve them.”
Arya threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t think he’d like us getting killed because of him, Eragon. We owe him tha-”
He shushed her, and took her hands in his. “Then we’ll just have to win, won’t we?”
She turned away. “Whatever your decision is, we will follow. I’ll trust you . . .”
---
Galbatorix pulled out his map and pointed at a small, hilly region right beside the forests of Furnost and against the Haradac desert. “Eragon and his little army are approaching this area. Our soldiers are approaching as we speak, and the riders are preparing themselves.”
All right, ‘rider’, are you done preparing yet? We missed the last fight completely and for this one you’re just sitting around being lazy! I’m bored, you’re bored, so can we just get out and start hacking away?
The king dismissed the complaint with a wave. “We might join the battle sometime, but not yet.”
Oh, please. Even that rider brat’s fighting! Why aren’t we!? Shruikan whined.
Galbatorix shushed him again. “We will, soon. This may not be the right time, but since you seem to want it that badly, why not?” He wrote some notes on the map, rolled it up and left the room.
---
Eragon, don’t you think we should stop to rest? Saphira asked. Eragon shook his head a slipped off her back.
“No. We have to hurry; you’ve seen how Glaedr is. We need to get the antidote, and fast. And I don’t even want to think about what they would do to Oromis.”
Saphira snorted irritably. The soldiers are tired. When the actual battle comes, we won’t have a chance. We must stop to rest.
Eragon sighed. “Alright. I’ll go talk to Arya.”
---
“Arya!”
The elf stopped, and turned to face him. “Eragon. What is it?”
“Stop the troops. Let them rest for a night. And have you decided on whom to send?” Arya smiled briefly at him, and gestured at Jormundr to let the men stand down. “I have come up with several choices but nothing decisive yet.”
“Well, you must hurry. We need to send them out soon. The battle is a distraction. We will draw the eyes of the King, and whoever you choose must save Oromis and get the antidote. Success depends on them.”
Arya hesitated. She had a bad feeling about this.
“I do have some suggestions to make . . . ”
If anyone wants to rescue Oromis, please post to say so. I can't post here much for the next three weeks (mid-year exams) so the other mods will probably have to take over.
I don't think you'd need to stop whatever thread you're in to participate, and to the mods: please feel free to delete or edit any part of the text you don't like, especially since I haven't got any opinions from anyone on this.
Canon characters:
Dannylam - Eragon
Fadriendel - Murtagh
Damien - Galbatorix
The rest would be played by the mods or Narkari, I think.
• Oromis was captured
• Rayl was assassinated
• Eragon took over the Varden
• The Varden split because the Surda and Varden leaders aren’t happy with him.
• Eragon takes the urgals, some of the riders and the elves for a direct charge
• The Varden and Surda, led by King Orrin, stay behind and may provide backup (Varden players have to chose which side to take)
• The armies of Eragon and Galbatorix collide in a hilly area near Furnost.
Long version:
The dungeons had been renovated since the last time he was here. Apparently, the builders had gone deeper and deeper underground, until they hit rock. And then they dug around it. From what he could see, he was in the absolute lowest cell.
Oromis shifted slightly. The bed was lumpy and the blankets threadbare, but it was better than nothing. There was even a table, some chairs, a candle holder and some writing material. Someone had refurnished the cells, or at least this one. Before, there had only been a pile of hay. He turned to inspect the walls.
This has got to be a joke.
It was exactly the same dungeon as the one he was previously in, except better furnished and a lot deeper down. There were the familiar bloodstains, and the graffiti. His blood, his graffiti. Delusional with pain after they were done torturing him, he started writing. Drawing. Deprived of ink he used the only material available to him; blood. Looking at it now was humiliating. Someone, somewhere, was having a good laugh at his expense.
Footsteps. He turned to face the door. It was heavy, five inches worth of wood and with hinges artfully rusted over to produce the maximum amount of creak. There was no chance that he could get it opened at all, let alone without alerting anyone.
Keys jingled. He could hear it being slotted into the keyhole, and watched as a burly guard forced it open. With a creak like that, there was no point pretending to be asleep. He clapped his hands over his ears and moaned, inwardly cursing. Decades ago, doors were not made of creak. Opening the doors was not a form of torture.
A minute later, the screeching stopped. He removed his hands from his ears and stared, wide eyed, at the figure in the doorway. It was small, slight and of indeterminate gender. It smiled humorlessly and said, “I designed this place.”
Well, that was it. The Forsworn had been replaced by people even more vicious. Oromis could only hope that Glaedr was better off than him.
---
Glaedr lay, helpless, deep within Ellesmera. The men and riders who had had taken Oromis couldn’t do the same to Glaedr. He was too big to carry and not important enough to bother with, so they merely poisoned him. The gold dragon was only conscious enough to know that his rider was alive, but no more. It was uncomfortable, being so far from his rider. And the poison circling his veins wasn’t making things any easier.
The elves were at a loss. They had no idea what poison was used, the only thing clear was that it wasn’t immediately fatal. Glaedr’s body temperature shot upwards and his breath burned the trees. The earth beneath his feet was as hot as the desert sand at midday, and the grass wilted within minutes. He was surrounded by a perpetual heat haze. None of the elves wanted to approach the dragon.
Within his ring of scorched grass, Glaedr hoped that Oromis was faring better.
---
Despite his earlier assumption, the Oromis wasn’t treated too badly. He wasn’t starved or tortured, for one. The door was only locked at night, but he knew better than to try escaping. The only ones who could open it were men with muscles like oxen, and the creak would’ve alerted everyone anyway.
It was odd, though. It seemed they were just trying to keep him alive, but he wasn’t sure why.
---
It was around seven in the morning, and a servant knocked three times on the solid wooden door. There was no answer. She knocked again, several times, before giving up and slowly pushing the door open. Her tray hit the floor with a crash as she gasped, and ran away. Inside the room, lord Raylborn’s corpse was pinned to the table by a sword through his stomach. There were no signs of any struggle, just a mess of paper. He had been bound, gagged, and probably died from strangulation, not blood loss. Raylborn’s own sword had been used, and the stab was most likely just for dramatic impact.
Nobody knew who murdered him, or what they had hoped to gain from it.
---
The day of Lord Raylborn's burial had arrived. Raylborn's body was placed within a simple wooden box. Eragon Shadeslayer, and five other members of the Varden had volunteered to bare his body west across Surda, to Aberon, where he would be laid to rest.
"What will you do now, little one?" Saphria asked, lowering her scaly head next to where Eragon was sitting.
Eragon did not speak for a moment as he looked over the desert landscape of Surda, to where thousands of people were grouped around a single, prone figure; Raylborn. The body was placed high in the air, on a pyre. The screams of grief could be heard echoing across the countryside like dying Banshees.
I'm going to lead the Varden. Eragon answered.
Saphira's eyes narrowed into a frown.
"Is that wise?"
Yes.
"The Council of Elders will want your head if you attempt to overthrow them."
The Council of Elders is gravely mistaken if they think they can stop me. I'm the only one who can lead the Varden, and you know it. Jormundr will agree with me.
"Are you certain about this?"
Absolutely.
"...Then I am with you. Come, the funeral will begin shortly." Saphira said, lowering her massive body to the ground.
Eragon's dark eyes opened. He raised himself from the ground and walked to Saphira's side. He grasped a rope on the saddle, then used it to launch himself onto Saphira's back. Once Eragon was settled, Saphira took off into the air with a gust of wind. In a few seconds, she was circling over the crowd. he swooped downwards, over the pyre and landed in a section that was cleared for her. Eragon leapt from her back, and walked to join the Elders, who were standing on a platform in front of Raylborn's pyre.
---
Eragon gave Jormundr a firm handshake as Jormundr moved to make his speech. A hush fell over the throng as Jormundr raised a hand.
"Raylborn is dead."
A wail went up from the people. Jormundr silenced them again.
"But do not weep, because Raylborn would not have allowed it. He was the greatest of us. His silent, brooding genius has kept us alive these times, but no longer. Our leader is fallen, our condition has worsened. The Empire is great, and we are weakened. We shall not, however, flee to our graves, waiting for the Empire to throw us in them. We must take up the mantle Raylborn dropped, and continue forward! Our body is broken, our leader is dead, but our resolve has never been stronger! Long live Raylborn! Long live The Varden!"
A magnificent cheer tore through the sky from the throats of every man, woman and child. Jormundr raised his arms, and closed his eyes, basking in the power of the multitude's cries.
"Saphira!" he shouted over the throng, "Light the pyre! The smoke that rises will be like our grief, fleeing into the nothingness. When there is nothing but ash, the Varden will be made anew!"
Saphira crouched to the ground and leapt into the air, her massive wings carried her through the sky until she hovered over the grand pyre. There was a rumbling in her throat, and a stream of flame erupted from behind her teeth. The pyre was taken with it and turned to a pile of ashes in only a few seconds. Saphira landed, and looked at Eragon.
Eragon took seven steps forward, and raised his hand. The crowd was silent.
"The Varden is made new. I, Eragon Shadeslayer, am its new leader."
The earth shook with stomping, cheers and roaring applause.
---
In the privacy of his own room, King Orrin fumed. How dare he! The rider was barely a man, and already he was trying to take over! The Council of Elders had been against it. The boy hadn’t consulted anyone on his decision, simply taking over as though he owned the place. Ajihad’s death had ruined everything. Nasuada was a competent ruler, he gave her that. However, Raylborn didn’t do anything and now this child would take the Varden on a suicide charge.
Well, he’d be gravely mistaken if he thinks he would get help from me. Surda will have no part in any of this.
---
Master, why did you have to capture the elf again? Shruikan asked, puzzled. And why that elf? He’s a rider, sure, but an utterly useless one. We made sure of that. And why did you order Raylborn’s assassination? It serves no purpose. He regarded Galbatorix quietly and waited for an answer.
“That elf, helpless as he is, is very important to both the Elves and Eragon. And now that Eragon has taken over the Varden, it is safe to assume that he will come for his mentor. Also, should I have taken Islanzadi instead, there is no doubt that either the elves would fall into chaos or that the Queen’s little girl would inherit her throne.” He laughed quietly. “Now, all that’s left is to see if Eragon would make the Varden stronger, or destroy it.”
In other words, you’re just bored.
Galbatorix scowled at him.
---
“They’re all ready, Eragon. When are we leaving?” Arya asked. Her voice was a mere whisper. Two weeks of frantically preparing the troops was taking its toll. While Eragon readied the riders, urgals and the few humans that joined them, Arya took care of the Elven army. They were highly-strung, very much overworked and quite stressed. Eragon seemed to have no idea how to control an army, and didn’t want to listen.
“As soon as possible. I want the Empire taken down now.”
Arya sighed. “We don’t have enough troops, Eragon. Not many of the Varden trust you enough to follow, and King Orrin doesn’t want to fight. I don’t think the dwarves like us very much, either. Now that king Hrothgar is gone, they don’t have any reason to fight.”
“Aye, what she says.” They turned to face a small, dark shape standing by the door. “They’re going to wait it out. No king lasts forever, and dwarves can survive without humans.” Orik shook his head and sighed. “They won’t join us. I’ve convinced a few dwarves to help you, and some want to avenge our king. But the vast majority . . . they don’t care.”
Eragon was silent. “So it’s just the elves and the urgals, then? Well, it doesn’t matter. We have enough men.” Something in Arya snapped. She swung him around to face her, and hissed, “No, we don’t have enough men. Going against the Empire now, with the kind of manpower we have, is suicide. I don’t want to send my people to die a pointless death! Don’t you understand!?” At the end of it, she was almost yelling.
He jerked out of her grip and eyed her warily. “We could at least take some of the border, right? And in the chaos, send someone to save Oromis. He doesn’t deserve them.”
Arya threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t think he’d like us getting killed because of him, Eragon. We owe him tha-”
He shushed her, and took her hands in his. “Then we’ll just have to win, won’t we?”
She turned away. “Whatever your decision is, we will follow. I’ll trust you . . .”
---
Galbatorix pulled out his map and pointed at a small, hilly region right beside the forests of Furnost and against the Haradac desert. “Eragon and his little army are approaching this area. Our soldiers are approaching as we speak, and the riders are preparing themselves.”
All right, ‘rider’, are you done preparing yet? We missed the last fight completely and for this one you’re just sitting around being lazy! I’m bored, you’re bored, so can we just get out and start hacking away?
The king dismissed the complaint with a wave. “We might join the battle sometime, but not yet.”
Oh, please. Even that rider brat’s fighting! Why aren’t we!? Shruikan whined.
Galbatorix shushed him again. “We will, soon. This may not be the right time, but since you seem to want it that badly, why not?” He wrote some notes on the map, rolled it up and left the room.
---
Eragon, don’t you think we should stop to rest? Saphira asked. Eragon shook his head a slipped off her back.
“No. We have to hurry; you’ve seen how Glaedr is. We need to get the antidote, and fast. And I don’t even want to think about what they would do to Oromis.”
Saphira snorted irritably. The soldiers are tired. When the actual battle comes, we won’t have a chance. We must stop to rest.
Eragon sighed. “Alright. I’ll go talk to Arya.”
---
“Arya!”
The elf stopped, and turned to face him. “Eragon. What is it?”
“Stop the troops. Let them rest for a night. And have you decided on whom to send?” Arya smiled briefly at him, and gestured at Jormundr to let the men stand down. “I have come up with several choices but nothing decisive yet.”
“Well, you must hurry. We need to send them out soon. The battle is a distraction. We will draw the eyes of the King, and whoever you choose must save Oromis and get the antidote. Success depends on them.”
Arya hesitated. She had a bad feeling about this.
“I do have some suggestions to make . . . ”
---
---
---
If anyone wants to rescue Oromis, please post to say so. I can't post here much for the next three weeks (mid-year exams) so the other mods will probably have to take over.
I don't think you'd need to stop whatever thread you're in to participate, and to the mods: please feel free to delete or edit any part of the text you don't like, especially since I haven't got any opinions from anyone on this.
Canon characters:
Dannylam - Eragon
Fadriendel - Murtagh
Damien - Galbatorix
The rest would be played by the mods or Narkari, I think.
