Chiaroscuro

[NicTei]

This is where Chiaroscuro will appear.  The prologue will be up in a little bit of time.  Don't worry.  I'll stop talking like everything I say matters now.

This is a board for Chiaroscuro, a story I started to work on not too long ago.  I'm going to be posting the chapters in their entirety, so this may be a time consuming thing to read.  However, I'm trying to make it seem as short as possible by making it good-quality writing.  You can return the favor, readers, by leaving kind comments and compliments.

Oh yeah, I just remembered something: 

Pumpkins rule.

CLICK ON THE CHAPTER TITLE TO VIEW IT, OTHERWISE SCROLL DOWN
Contents
Prologue:  The War (see next post)
Chapter 1:  Doom and School.  They Go Together.
Chapter 2:  Enlisting
Chapter 3:  The Sound of Thunder
Chapter 4:  Mana
Chapter 5:  Horrible Homunculi
Chapter 6:  A Requiem for Ser

Chapters Written
Chapter 7:  Impossible
Chapter 8:  What in Blue Blazes?
Chapter 9:  Scars
Chapter 10:  Let's Go!
Chapter 11:  The Goblin King and His Vassal


Chapters In Progress
Chapter 12:  Oh Boy...

Book Status
Passed away.  August 14, 2008-November 09, 2008

[NicTei]

   Punk and Desperad had made good time in getting through the ruins.  With Hydra firing almost constantly, it was hard for anything to get close to them.  They were in front of the large computer repair building in moments.

“I just thought of something…” Punk said suddenly.

“Really?  Well, don’t hurt yourself!” Desperad replied, inspecting Hydra.

“Oh, shut up!” Punk shot back.

“Anyways, you were saying?”

“How come the southern server was in a hospital, and this one is in a computer repair building?” Punk asked.

“Well, I guess the people from Old Earth were crazy.”

“Desperad, you think anyone that doesn’t agree with you is crazy!”

“That’s because I’m right all of the time.”

   All talking ceased as they stepped into the computer repair building.  This time would be different; they would be descending into the depths of the building instead of ascending to a top floor, like in the southern ruins, to get to the server.  It wouldn’t be as simple as ‘get in, power up, and fly away.’  They would have to fight their way through the decrepit factory, turn on the server, and then fight all the way back out.

“Our superiors must be insane!” Punk muttered as he thought of the horrors he would have to endure.

[c|s]

   Chiaroscuro’s day had so far passed uneventfully.  Of course, almost everything he could think of was just anti-climactic compared to Ser’s attempted escape earlier in the day.  He had taken a look at the laptop on his bed, and discovered a manual inside.  He had read through it out of boredom; there wasn’t a lot to do.

   He skipped school for that day, a Friday, the medical files showing up on the school’s MRPOs saying that he would be out for another week and a half.  And yet, with his freedom, he also had no one to talk to, as everyone he knew was in school.  At least he assumed that Nort was in school.  He hadn’t seen him since the homunculi attack.

   He tried to stay aware at all times, not wanting a repeat of earlier events.  Anyone coming up to the door was put under immediate scrutiny, Chiaroscuro’s eyes trying to take in as many details as possible.  But, the only people that approached his door simply dropped off mail, or realized that they were at the wrong address. 

   When night fell, Chiaroscuro was almost glad that he was tired.  This also meant that he let his guard down at a crucial time.  There was a knock on the door, and when he opened it, he saw the male nurse, though he was wearing a strange robe.

“Crud!” was all that Chiaroscuro could say as he was injected with what he hoped was a sedative.

[c|s]

   Halfway through the computer repair building, Punk and Desperad were finally halted by a large horde of frozen undead.  As Punk and Desperad fired, Hydra taking down more zombies than Punk’s revolver, the zombies kept coming.  Punk groaned.

“Why is it that there are so many corpses?” he asked no one in particular.

“Probably because there’s no cure for death, and there are people dying each second.”

“Will you shut up and shoot, Desperad?”

   They pressed on, mowing down as many of the zombies as they could.  As corpse after corpse sprayed all over the floor and walls, they gained inch after painful inch.  Punk ran out of ammo a couple times and had to reload.  He was amazed at the amount of ammo Hydra could hold.  It had been firing nonstop since they met the undead in the corridors fifteen minutes ago.
 
   Just when Desperad was getting bored, all of the zombies disappeared, either splattered all over the place or running away.  Hydra stopped firing, a click sounding through the cramped halls as the firing mechanism slid out of place.  Desperad walked forward at a faster pace, stepping into a four way intersection.

   Suddenly, two zombies leaped at him from the side passages.  There were two loud bangs as Punk shot them out of the air.  He whirled the revolver around, almost shooting himself in the face, before putting it back in the holster.

“That’s two that you owe me!” Punk said, smirking at Desperad.

   Desperad’s own revolver was suddenly aimed at him.  He couldn’t move, and when Desperad fired three times, he winced, expecting to feel a sharp, biting pain.  But there was nothing except three splattering noises; there had been a zombie, a partial zombie, and a zombified head coming towards him.

“And now you owe me!” Desperad replied, returning the smirk as he turned to descend further into the building.

[c|s]

   When Chiaroscuro woke up, there was a dull throbbing in his temples.  He staggered to his feet and looked out the window.  The sun was up.  It was now Saturday.

“Shoot!  The hospital!” Chiaroscuro yelled, remembering the man’s attack last night.

   He rushed to get dressed, putting on the first clothes he saw:  A black T-shirt over white under armor, and a pair of black jeans to go with it.  As he got dressed, he washed his face and brushed his teeth.  He did this every day, but he had little time right now.

   As soon as he had put on deodorant and made sure that his hair was at least presentable, he ran as fast as he could to the hospital.  Halfway there, though, misfortune struck.  The familiar pain exploded in his chest, and though he tried to fight through it, he finally succumbed, leaning against a building and clutching his chest.

“Hey!  You with the dye!” a voice yelled.

   He looked to see a boy slightly older and larger than him, a bandana tied onto his head and covering his short cut brown hair.  His dark eyes pierced Chiaroscuro, and it was clear that he meant harm.  This was confirmed as he pulled a knife out of his pocket.

“You leanin’ against my building, punk?” the boy asked.

“Oh shut up and get out of my way!” Chiaroscuro growled, the berserk glare from the attack on the school starting to show through.

“Oh, you think you got attitude?  I’m gonna mess you up, boy!” the ‘gang member’ said, rushing Chiaroscuro with the knife.

   Chiaroscuro simply showed off his Angel Bite and the boy ran away with his tail between his legs.  He was an idiot, but wasn’t stupid enough to fight Mana with metal.  The inhabitants of Old Earth had tried that long ago, and it didn’t turn out too well.

   The attack had passed, and Chiaroscuro resumed his sprint, hoping to get to the hospital before the male nurse, whom Chiaroscuro was beginning to think was about due for malpractice charges, could do anything.  He burst through the door, slamming into the reception desk in an attempt to stop.

“Oh, I remember you!” the receptionist said, a warm smile on her face.

“Likewise.  Now I need to see the patient Ser Thea!” he said, suddenly remembering her last name.  He stopped, wondering how in the world he had managed to forget it.

“Okay then!” the receptionist replied, typing on the computer.

   Suddenly, she frowned, and a sigh escaped her.  She turned back to Chiaroscuro, but the expression on her face was one that didn’t quite inspire courage in him.  When she spoke, her tone was gentle, as if trying to break bad news to him softly.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid Ms. Thea has…” she stopped, as if choking on the words, “…passed on.”

   The words hit Chiaroscuro like a grenade:  it bounced a couple of times, giving him time to recognize what it was, and then it blew up.  He nearly collapsed to his knees then and there, but he couldn’t.  He started down the hallway to where he had last seen her.

   When he got to her room, the man that had attacked him was covering her body up with the sheet.  All of the machines had been disconnected and there was nothing in the room but the false nurse and the body of the person Chiaroscuro had tried so hard to save.  That was when the man noticed him standing there.

“Crud!” he yelled, running out of the room and slamming Chiaroscuro into the wall.

   He stepped back and Chiaroscuro slumped to the wall.  The man expected Chiaroscuro to be unconscious, but when he looked, he was surprised to see him laughing.  In his hand was the man’s nurse’s mask.

“Nurse!” he called out to a female figure in the hall.  “Do you recognize this man?”

   She saw him and screamed.  The man threw something at her, and whatever it was knocked her out.  Chiaroscuro got to his feet, discarding the mask.
 
“Good.  I was afraid you might actually be a staff member.  Now I know that I can give you some payback without getting in too much trouble!” Chiaroscuro said as an Angel Bite appeared on his hand.

   The man threw a punch, barely missing Chiaroscuro but hitting the wall.  The plaster crumbled, and the vibrations caused by the hit were felt even in the lowest level of the hospital.  Chiaroscuro looked at the cracked wall and then back at the man.

“You know the steroids are for the patients, right?” he asked, slamming the Angel Bite into the man’s elbow and breaking the bone.

   As the man cried out and stumbled backwards, Chiaroscuro kept speaking.  “Oh, stop your complaining!  If I had any sense, I would’ve gotten up the Mana to allow it to sever the arm completely, not just hurt.  I guess I just want it to hurt longer!” he finished, saying the last sentence with the berserk glare fully present in his eyes.

   He started to swing at the man, the Mana from the Angel Bite trailing through the air.  Blue streaks were visible even after Chiaroscuro had moved on, pushing the man down the hallway.  But the man managed to dodge, either ducking or jumping backwards.

“Guess you just can’t hit me!” the man teased.

   Then he hit the wall.  Chiaroscuro glared at him triumphantly, drawing back the Angel Bite.  He threw it forward with all his might, and had it hit, it would’ve torn through the man’s chest.  As it was, however, someone caught him by the arm, stopping the Angel Bite millimeters from the man’s chest.

“That’s enough.  Officers, arrest this man for impersonating a doctor!” the voice of Pastor Johann said sternly.

   Chiaroscuro turned to face his pastor.  His hair was cut far shorter than Chiaroscuro’s, dark brown in color.  His brown eyes were usually warm, but now they held a fierceness that Chiaroscuro hadn’t seen there in all the years he had known the pastor.  He was wearing the usual clothes of a pastor, black clothes with the white collar piece.

“Why did you stop me?” he asked.

“Because if you had killed this imposter, you’d fall that much farther into the dark path of revenge!” Pastor Johann replied.

   Chiaroscuro shook his arm from the Pastor’s grasp, the Angel Bite fading.  He sped back to Ser’s room, running down two hallways before getting there.  He hadn’t realized how far away his attacks had taken him, but he still got there quickly.

   He tore the sheet off of Ser’s face, searching for any signs of life.  There were no signs of breathing, so he put his head on her chest, listening for a heartbeat.  He then rose, eyes stinging.

   No pulse.  No breath.  No life.

[c|s]

   Punk was surprised at how easy it had been to get the server up and running.  Within minutes they were done, and were headed back out of the computer repair building.  When they once more stepped out into the relative sunlight, the effect off the snow was nearly blinding.

   In fact, the world as he was experiencing it was the opposite of Chiaroscuro’s.  He was happy, and his immediate future looked bright.  Only the thought of having to travel all the way back with Desperad put any kind of damper on the mood.  But even that was wiped from his mind when he got a call from his superiors.

“Good work, gentlemen.  The servers are all up, and the World Wide Web will be launched in a matter of moments.  Return to Head Quarters for your rewards.  We are all proud!”

“Wait!  How do you expect us to get back!?” Punk yelled into the phone.

But there was no one on the other line.  “Well, I guess we walk!” Desperad answered, heading off in the direction of the place where they had been dropped by the helicopter.

   All of a sudden, there was a deep rumbling noise, accompanied by the earth shaking.  Punk and Desperad both readied their guns, Punk with his revolver and Desperad with his own pistol and Hydra, looking for the source of the noise.  Right in front of them, a large shape burst from the ground, spraying rocks and debris everywhere.

   The firing mechanism on Hydra slid into place, and Desperad had the shot lined up before he realized what it was.  He put his revolver back into his belt and slung Hydra back behind him.  He pushed down Punk’s revolver as well, despite the protests of his companion.

“It’s not an enemy.  It’s a subterranean vehicle!” Desperad said, cutting off Punk’s protests.

“In plain, simple English!” Punk shouted.

“It’s a car that digs through the ground!” Desperad replied, speaking slowly.

“Oh, shut up…” Punk responded, looking at the ground.

[c|s]

   The funeral for Ser was two days later.  Her parents didn’t seem to upset; at least, Chiaroscuro hadn’t seen them shed any tears.  Her brother, however, had streams of tears on his face almost constantly.

   The decoration of the church in which the funeral was held was immaculate, done according to her brother’s commands.  White roses, in contrast to the black suits of many present, and banners of black were spread all over.  There was candle-light glowing throughout the church; the only time Ser’s parents would allow the funeral to be was at night, as if they were ashamed that they would have to be seen holding a funeral for their daughter.

   Whenever Chiaroscuro felt his eyes start to sting, he looked down at the floor.  At first he didn’t even want to come; he was reluctant to be in the room where the person he had tried so hard to save, spiritually and physically, was in a box.  But, upon the request of Ser’s brother, he had come, being appointed as one of the pallbearers.  Apparently, she had told her brother about his repeated efforts to get her into the church, and he didn’t disagree.

“We are assembled here on this dark night to celebrate the life of Ser Ris Thea, who was tragically cut down in her youth by a gunman’s fire.”

   Pastor Johann’s greeting brought Chiaroscuro out of his thoughts.  Something wasn’t right.  He had seen Ser getting up and running towards him in an attempt to escape the hospital.  She had been fine; the bullet wounds didn’t seem to be affecting her other than the pain in her side when she stepped.

   Anger burned hotly inside him.  Her death had been covered up by someone at the hospital.  The false nurse.  He had to be behind this.  He was the only one that could’ve done such a thing.  If he had been able to parade around as a male nurse, then it was likely he had impersonated a doctor once or twice.

“Despite her loneliness in life, she was surrounded by those that loved her.  Her parents, he siblings, and those at school…”

   When Pastor Johann said ‘Her parents,’ there was a snort from behind Chiaroscuro, as well as a strangled sob.  He turned slightly, and saw from the corner of his eye that Ser’s parents and brother were seated behind him, instead of up at the front.  His anger grew even hotter.  They were disgracing her by disowning her in her death.

   He felt his fists clench, but told himself to save it; it would give him the strength he needed to hoist the heavy casket.  Had he kept track of how many attacks he had had over the last couple of days, he would’ve known that his next would be his third.  But as it was, he was oblivious to the hardships of his life, focusing instead on listening to Pastor Johann’s service.

“Please rise for the Introit Hymn, found on page 435 of your hymnal.  Remain standing afterwards for a prayer.”

   Chiaroscuro took out the hymnal and flipped to the page.  The organ began playing the prelude as he scanned the words.  He had known this hymn for a while; almost all little children did.  As he heard the beginning being sung out, his heart felt as if it were being torn in two and goosebumps streamed up his arms, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up at the sound of the congregation singing it out.  He could’ve sworn the Choir of Saints had also joined in, the sound amazing in the crowded sanctuary.

“Jesus loves me, this I know!
For the Bible tells me so!
Little ones to Him belong,
They are weak, but He is strong!”

He joined in on the chorus, holding back the tears as best he could.

“Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me so!”

   The only place he had ever sang was in church, and yet his voice rang out as if he had been born singing.  Covered by the congregation as it was, it was still discernable.  It was then that he knew what he was going to do to make it a proper send off.

   When the hymn was over, there was a moment of silent prayer, during which Ser’s parents both made phone calls.  They didn’t even bother to step out in the hallway; they sat there in their pews, whispering to the person on the other end.  Then came a Scripture reading, and after that another hymn.

   When the hymn was finished, Pastor Johann asked if anyone had anything to say.  Chiaroscuro silently rose to his feet.  He stepped up to the pulpit, and opened a hymnal.  He looked at the Pastor, who nodded.  It was okay. He could go ahead with this.

He started on the hymn he had chosen:  A Pilgrim and a Stranger.*

“A pilgrim and a stranger,
I journey here below;
Far distant is my country,
The home to which I go.
Here I must toil and travail,
Oft weary and opprest;
But there my God shall lead me
To everlasting rest.”

   His voice rang throughout the quiet sanctuary, the organ playing along.  The melody of the hymn was reassuring, and yet the chord on the last note was haunting.  Those who hadn’t been crying were now moved to tears, and even Ser’s parents stopped what they were doing to listen, and almost looked like they realized what was really happening.  Their only daughter was dead.  As Chiaroscuro sang, he poured his all into the song.  This, in turn, was too straining, and blood started to drip from his mouth, though he ignored the chest pains.

“I’ve met with storms and danger
E’en from my early years,
With enemies and conflicts,
With fightings and with fears.
There’s nothing here that tempts me
To wish a longer stay,
So I must hasten forward,
No halting or delay.”

He then skipped to the last verse, the blood halting and the chest pain wavering.

“There shall I dwell forever,
No more a parting guest,
With all Thy blood-bought children,
In everlasting rest,
The pilgrim toils forgotten,
The pilgrim conflicts o’er,
All earthly griefs behind me,
Eternal joys before.”

   There was silence in the sanctuary.  His voice was comparable to the song of the angels, stunning all present and bringing the parents to realize that they’d never see their daughter again.  They didn’t cry, but sat in shock, silent and still.

   He sat down, wiping the blood on the sleeve of his suit.  Pastor Johann realized that anything other than silent prayer after that would be anti-climactic, destroying the mood.  He stepped up to the pulpit, taking the microphone and wiping his eyes.

“You may remain seated for a moment of silent prayer.”

[c|s]

   The service concluded not long afterwards, and it was time to carry the casket to the hearse, and then to its final destination:  the cemetery.  Chiaroscuro couldn’t look at the body in the casket, and as such didn’t notice that there was no jeweled cross on Ser’s neck.  Pastor Johann closed the lid and helped Chiaroscuro and the other five pallbearers lift the casket.

   As they carried it down the church steps, the sun was beginning to rise.  The service had been held unusually late; 4:00 a.m.  Once more, misfortune struck Chiaroscuro.

   During the service, he could feel the slight pressure on his heart, a sign that he was enduring a prolonged attack.  Along with that, there had been the feeling of something caught in his throat, and when he coughed there were flecks of red on his sleeve.  Now, the condition that kept him from strenuous activity hit full force.

   The pain in his chest was unbearable, and he collapsed.  Because the other pallbearers weren’t expecting one of their companions to go down, they weren’t ready to catch the casket as it fell.  Chiaroscuro could only watch, heaving blood onto the sidewalk, as the casket flew open at the bottom of the stairs, spilling out its contents.

*A Pilgrim and A Stranger is a funerary hymn in an old Lutheran hymnal I found.

[panda]

can you check my prologe  for me Prologue

  In a land before time, it was said that there was a war between mankind and the forces of the devil. The result was the worst imaginable, and as a result, mankind was forced to split into four nations; Earth, Water, Fire and Wind. Each nation was marked with a separate star. The four warriors who were in charge of the nations ruled them for many years. They were known as Cao Pi, Lu Bu, Sun Ce and Cao Cao
  The rebellious fire nation declared war on the others in an attempt to dominate the land, making the land one glorious nation. Predictably, it caused yet another war, this time between the four nations who had once stood together. In time, the years of seemingly endless war caused them to forget about the devil, who was building an army to dominate mankind, intending to strike when they were weak from the trails of war. Many villages were destroyed, and many innocent peasants were killed.
  The four leaders of each nation were forced to flee, abandoning the villages they once held dear. To this day they have only been spoken of in legend, and to this day the fates of those left behind have not been decided.

[NicTei]

Well, I'll be posting chapters to this one weekly, just like my others.  I think I'll do it every Monday, just so I can have something to do at the beginning and the end of each week.  Probably parts of Veil of Dreams on Wednesday, too...

I'll figure it out later.  Stick with it, guys!

[Chinaren]

Off-Topic:

Hey Panda, I replied to your prologue in Story street, and i'm waiting for more.  I don't think it's a very good idea for you to try and hijack NTs!   

Sorry NT,

[NicTei]

Tomorrow's my birthday!!!XD XD

What to ask for...

 
(^Yes, that's a happy birthday pumpkin.)

[Chinaren]

~Sends NT an Happy Birthday Give~

I will get around to this story review NT, at some point.  Been really busy lately.   

[NicTei]

I got the Happy Birthday...thing...and tried to PM you, but, and I quote (in color!), ...recipient's box is full!  Anyways, can't wait for the review!



P.S.  New post for Veil of Dreams is up!

[NicTei]

   Chiaroscuro lurched to his feet.  All was quiet, people still standing in shock at the fact that a seemingly healthy boy had just vomited at least a bucket load of blood.  He stumbled down the stairs to Ser’s body.  It was then that he noticed his necklace was missing, and that there was a strange line on her neck.  It appeared to be a seam, and was torn to reveal frayed ends of a cloth-like material.

   He grabbed onto it and ripped it off.  The face that greeted his weary eyes nearly caused him to drop the body once more.  It was Nort. 

[c|s]

   Bezeran the Wicked was now riding into the battlefield, a strange creature at his side.  It had two stubby arms that ended in blunt points, no joints anywhere on their length.  There was a large hole in its chest, almost separating the top half from the bottom half, which was laden with many, many legs.  As it stumbled along, muffled screams were heard from inside it.  At one point, an armor plate fell loose and revealed the horrified face of Lord Yuen.

   Bezeran casually slapped the plate back into place, once more muffling the screams.  His mount was a large black horse, with plumes of smoke rising from its nose.  Its eyes glowed with a red, vicious light.

   He stopped in front of the town that Lord Yuen had been in charge of protecting.  Drawing his sword, he raised it into the air, then brought it sweeping down to point at the gates.  With a chorus of terrible roars, his Haetan soldiers charged, sweeping past him with the speed born of evil magic.

   Bezeran smirked.  After this town was destroyed, there would be virtually no other place where his enemies could hide, save for the great stone-walled city of Luilian.  And, of course, the Tower.  His eyes glowed when he thought of the Tower.

   It was a symbol of everything he hated.  Goodness, justice, peace, and love.  How he hated the Tower!  His life’s ambition was to tear that accursed column of stone to pieces and grind the bricks beneath his heel.

   But, he still lacked the power.  The Haetan Overlords, had they still been around, would’ve been able to help, but they were gone now.  Or so he thought.  He had been having dreams lately about the Overlords coming to aid him in battle, but these dreams confused him.

   In them, he was always stopped by six people, all of which were standing in two different groups; a group of four and a group of two.  They were standing in front of the Tower when he attacked, and fought back.  The last thing he would see was a bright blue light, and then he’d wake up sweating and roaring at the top of his lungs.

   He always pushed these dreams to the back of his mind; they bothered him so, and was even put out of the mood to kill when he thought of them.  He did just that, shoving the dreams as far back as he could.  He had a city to conquer, and people to kill.

[c|s]

   All Chiaroscuro could remember from discovering the body’s true identity to getting home was one word, repeating over and over in his mind:  Haetans.  It had to be them.  Why else would Ser have tried to tell him something about Haetans when he last saw her?

   He burst through the door and opened the laptop.  He wanted to see if this ‘World Wide Web’ was up and running again; something told him that there would be answers there.  He turned it on, and it delayed longer than before.  For a moment, he was afraid that he had broken it somehow, but it finally hummed to life.

   There was a picture in the middle of the screen, with the words ‘Welcome to the Internet’ in bold letters in the middle.  In smaller letters, it said ‘click to continue.’ 

   He was thoroughly confused.  What did it mean ‘click to continue’?  What was there to ‘click’?  He grabbed the manual and hurriedly flipped through it.  It showed a diagram of someone either touching the small red dot in the middle of the letter keys, or using a smooth, black space that was just above two gray buttons.  Pressing on the gray button to the right would be what he wanted to do, while moving his fingers along either the red dot or the black pad would move the cursor around.

   With some difficulty, he managed to get the cursor on words and ‘clicked’ with the gray button.  There was a humming noise as what the manual called the ‘hard drive’ kicked in, and the home page finally opened up.  There were instructions there, such as:

“To search, type ‘Gogol’ in the URL bar, located at the top of the window.”

“To check your E-Mail (yes, you do have E-mail again!), type in ‘Mailspace’ in the URL bar.”

   He followed the directions, noting that the ‘URL’ always added three of the same letter to the beginning, ‘w,’ and the same word at the end, ‘com.’  He had used the search engine first, looking up ‘Ser Thea.’  It came back with zero results.  Then he decided to check his ‘E-mail,’ whatever that was.

   Thankfully, there were instructions on the page.  He typed in what they told him to, which was his name and address as a ‘username’ and ‘password.’  He was beginning to like computers, mostly because of their complexity.

   Under the ‘Inbox’ tab, he saw the letter ‘1’ in parenthesis.  He didn’t have to look through the manual to understand that it meant he had mail.  He opened it by clicking on the ‘Inbox’ line, and when he read the E-mail, his heart seemed to freeze over.  This is what it said:

“To ‘Chiaro,’ and yes, we know that you hate that name;
   We have your friend.  But, we advise you not to come looking for her; she is vital to us.  We have a group of soldiers and scouts tracking your every movement, and if you come so much as a mile away from us, you will be slain in an instant.  You cannot track us, you cannot find us.
Sincerely,
-the Haetans”

   Chiaroscuro was numb for a moment, and then pulled the shades in his room, save for the large window by his bed which, oddly, had no shades.  He made sure that every window in his house was covered, either by a shade or any object he could find that would work.  There was a sudden ‘beep’ on the computer, and it said that he had another message.

“Nope, we can still see you!”

   Cursing, he hit the wall.  He assumed that his ‘stalkers’ would be lower-class Haetan soldiers, but if that was true, then how were they so skilled?  How could they see through walls?  He ruled out the large window; he was standing off to the side far enough that he couldn’t see out it, except for the top.  And he would’ve seen anyone flying.

   Sighing, he sped down the stairs and started to make himself some food for the journey he was going to have to set out on.  He didn’t know where in the world he was going, but he figured that he’d find out soon enough.  He then packed his laptop, and the food, into his backpack.  No one would notice if he was out of school for a while; while he stood out, no one paid him much attention.

   He slung the backpack over his shoulder and locked the house.  He didn’t know what was going to happen when he was gone, and he loved the old building.  The last thing he wanted was someone breaking in or torching the place.  Newer houses had ‘Guardian systems,’ which were essentially Mana-based traps that were sprung as soon as someone tried to force their way into the house.  All he could do was pray that it would be left alone, the rumors of hauntings in the house that he liked to spread keeping people away.

   It was true; he had a fair share of strange experiences inside, but nothing too threatening.  The most convincing was when he had run straight into a woman wearing old Victorian style dress, a veil covering her face.  He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a dream or not, but he figured that if it came to a break in, the thieves would find themselves facing unknown forces.

   The cool breeze of autumn whistled around him as he walked, sweeping the leaves up in a swirling pattern and whispering in his ear.  It foretold of the coming winter, and he was glad that he had put a sweatshirt and cloak in his bag.  The cloak might’ve been a strange choice, but he didn’t mind, as long as it kept him warm.

   He suddenly found his path barred by two people, both taller than he was.  Each had a red tint in their eyes, and they looked at Chiaroscuro in both amusement and disbelief.  They wore armor that looked like it had been through many a battle, and swords hung at their waists.  Their helmets were adorned with small, black horns, and there was a stylized ‘H’ on their chest.  They were Haetan soldiers.

[c|s]

   Ser woke up not in a dark chamber, but in a clean bright room, everything unbelievably white.  She, too, was dressed in white, but her usual black clothes were just off to her side, folded neatly.  She got up, clutching her head and groaning.

“Okay, that nurse is getting sued for malpractice!” she muttered as she picked up her clothes.

   As she started to change, the door burst open and Bezeran entered.  He immediately turned away, facing the door.  She quickly changed, turning red.  When she was finished, he turned around.

   He wasn’t dressed in the same fashion that he had been when he spoke to Lord Yuen; he was wearing a white suit, with a cane fashioned out of white wood at his side.  He bowed low, sweeping his arm out to the side.  Ser stared at him in confusion.

“Welcome, Ms. Thea, to your new home!” Bezeran said, smiling gently.

   Immediately Ser knew what was going on.  She wasn’t going to be fooled by Bezeran’s smile; she could see the red in his eyes and knew that he was a Haetan.  She spat on the floor, which caused his smile to falter.

“Alright, so when are you going to let me out of my own mind?” she asked, knowing exactly where she was.

“But how…?” Bezeran asked, confusion on his face.

“There’s no way you’d ever be in a white suit, Haetan!” she replied nonchalantly.

Bezeran smiled again.  “Not quite the correct answer, but good enough!  And to answer your question, you’ll be released from your psyche as soon as we get ‘home!’”

   He left after that, and Ser listened to his footsteps seem to fade down a corridor.  She ran to the door and threw it open, leaping out, but found herself back in the same room.  She put her hand through the door, only to find that it came back out, pointing towards her.  Severely shook up by the sight of her own hand in two places at once, she sat down on the floor just inside the door. 

   She was all alone.  She had longed to be alone like this for most of her life, due to her indifferent, hating parents and her over-caring little brother, but now that she finally was alone, she only longed for company.  Tears started to form in her eyes, sparkling like the jeweled cross that hung around her neck.

[c|s]

“This is the boy Lord Bezeran wanted us to keep an eye on?” one of the soldiers asked his partner.

   As the other soldier hit the one that had spoken over the head, Chiaroscuro attempted to walk past them.  But, a dagger thudded into the ground at his feet.  It had likely been thrown by one of the scouts.  He stayed where he was.

“I assume you got the E-mail?” the other soldier asked Chiaroscuro.

“Well, duh!  You were watching me the whole time.  Of course I got the E-mail!” Chiaroscuro replied coldly.

"Good.  Then you know that if you pursue your friend, we’ll kill you!” the Haetan shot back.

“Why don’t we just kill him right now?  If Lord Bezeran fears him so much, then his death will come as great news!  We could be promoted to generals!” the first soldier said excitedly.

   The other one considered it, and Chiaroscuro tried to see if he could spot where the scout that had thrown the dagger at him was.  There was a sudden movement in the tree, too heavy to be wind or a squirrel, and another dagger whizzed out, stopping him from coming any closer.

   While the soldiers bickered, he kneeled to pick it up cautiously, watching the trees.  He inspected the blade when he stood back up again.  There was a strange coating on the blade, and when he rubbed it off, there was a burning sensation in his finger.  He tossed it to the ground.  Poison.

“Fine!  We’ll just kill him and get it over with!” the soldiers agreed when he turned back to them.

“Wait…what?” Chiaroscuro asked as they charged, drawing their swords.

He barely dodged their first slash, muttering “Should’ve stayed in bed…”

[c|s]

   Ser didn’t know how long she had been sitting inside the pure white room, but she suddenly felt like something dreadful was coming.  She noticed that the cross was still around her neck, and reached up to touch it, hoping it would give her some sort of comfort.  What happened next, she didn’t expect.

   The moment she touched the cross, pain shot through her arm, originating where the false nurse had given her the drugs that put her in a death-like state.  Finally, the room started to fade, and she feared that she was dying.  What increased her fear was the fact that, as soon as the room had faded, she was left in blackness, the sensation of being on some kind of cart or wagon replacing the walls behind her.
 
   She felt a floor beneath her, and realized that she had somehow escaped her mental prison.  She opened her eyelids fully before realizing that there were probably people watching her, so she shut them quickly.

   When nothing happened, she opened them again.  Her first thoughts had been accurate; she was on a cart of some sort.  There was black velvet stretched over the top, shading her from the sun, and the figure up front was obviously a Haetan, his horned helmet giving it away.

   She felt around in her pocket for her knife, and found it.  It was just a pocket knife, but it would do the job.  Creeping as silently as she could, she got up behind the Haetan.  She saw what was pulling the cart and nearly dropped the knife.

   There were three large, skeletal horses dragging the cart along.  Each of them had giant bat-like wings, though they didn’t seem airworthy.  They were running along at a rapid pace, and she could no longer see the town they had taken her from, Tarewey, behind them when she looked back.

   She shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate.  She got back into position, and quickly grabbed the Haetan by the neck.  With a quick motion, she dragged the knife across his throat.  The soldier’s warm blood sprayed all over her hands, but she just wiped them off on a cloth on the floor as she booted him off the cart.  With no one holding the reigns, the beasts pulling the cart stopped.

   She stared to search the cart, looking for any sign of food or weaponry.  She noticed, with a wave of nausea, that the cloth she had used to wipe her hands was apparently a burial shroud, as there was a skeleton, picked clean, underneath it.  She didn’t know what had devoured the poor person, but didn’t want to find out.

   She finally found a sword in the back and, strapping it to her waist, she leaped off the back of the cart.  Taking great care, she crept up behind the skeletal horses and suddenly screamed.  They all whinnied loudly, like a real horse, and started to sprint away as fast as they could, dragging the cart behind them.

   Then she realized her tactical error; she was now in the middle of a wide open plain, with no civilization in sight.  The sun was also starting to beat down on her, and she realized that it was quite warm.  Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up, she started walking back the way that the cart had come from, hoping she would find Tarewey before something else found her.

[c|s]

   Chiaroscuro realized that there would be no way to reason with the Haetan soldiers, so he started to call upon his Mana.  The attack at the funeral, coupled with his lack of sleep, had left him feeling a little drained, but he still found the strength to summon up an Angel Bite.  The Haetans saw this and stepped back a little.

“H-hey!  Lord Bezeran never said anything about Cryxian Mana techniques!” the first one said, taking yet another step back.

“Oh, you big wussy!  He probably has no idea how to use it anyways!” the other one said, charging Chiaroscuro again. 

   Chiaroscuro gave a small laugh, smirking, and ducked underneath the swipe of the Haetan’s blade.  He brought up the Angel Bite, the Mana built up enough so that it punched a hole in the soldier’s stomach.  He ripped his hand out of the hole and kicked the doubled-over soldier in the face, knocking him backwards.

“Who’s next?” he asked.

“You little prick!” the injured Haetan screamed, getting to his feet.

   Chiaroscuro was shocked.  The wound he had given the soldier was gone, disappeared into thin air!  He ran at the soldier again, this time ramming the Angel Bite through his chest and heart. 

“That ought to kill you!” he muttered, removing his hand again.

   But the Haetan just laughed as the wound healed once more.  Chiaroscuro began to thrust the Angel Bite through various points on the Haetan’s body, each time watching as the wound healed.  Finally, he could hold the Angel Bite together no longer, and the Mana dispersed from his hand.

   The Haetan soldier that had been so frightened before picked Chiaroscuro up by the neck, laughing.  He started to squeeze, cutting off the boy’s air.  Chiaroscuro started to see stars, but was suddenly released when a dagger stabbed into the soldier’s arm, held by another, smaller Haetan, whose skin was painted green.

“You’re not to kill him!” she scolded, pulling the dagger out.

“Well, it’s not my fault…” the soldier muttered.

“Still, that Angel Bite could be a problem…” the scout said, looking at Chiaroscuro, who was rubbing his neck as he lay on the ground.

“I’ll remedy that!” said a cheerful voice. 

   No sooner had Chiaroscuro looked up than there was a dagger in his arm, the poison flowing through his veins.  It was held by another scout, though this one seemed a little different.  He realized that her eyes weren’t red completely, but there was still a slight red tint in them.

   He had no more time to think about it, however, because his arm started to burn as if it were in a wood furnace.  He clutched it to his chest and tried holding in the screams, the Haetans laughing at him.  They started to walk away, but he got up and charged at them, an Angel Bite flickering to life on his left hand. 

   One of the soldiers noticed him and drew his sword, slashing in a quick upward motion.  There was a tearing sensation as his left arm was sliced off of his body, and Chiaroscuro hit the ground, holding the bloody stump.  As his vision faded, the Haetans stood leering at him, finally turning away as the darkness closed in.

[c|s]

   Punk was totally inebriated.  The party thrown for their success was huge, with alcohol, alcohol, and more alcohol.  There was also music and games, but he was to plastered to care.  At the moment, there were four-no, five-equally drunk women swarming around a rather disgusted Desperad, who wasn’t drinking the ‘hard stuff.’

   He was sitting back with a glass of red wine with his eyes closed, as if he was already nursing a hangover.  He opened his eyes and dismissed the women with a word; they walked away looking rather disappointed, but the set their eyes on Punk.  As he was swarmed by women, Punk didn’t think the party could get any better. 

And then he threw up.

[c|s]

   Bezeran the Wicked was now inspecting the empty cart with building rage.  He had ordered the girl to be brought right back here, which was the town he had just conquered.  It was also his new base of operations.  And yet, all that was in the cart were two bloodstains, one on the burial shroud of his soldier’s last snack, and one on the soldier’s seat.  He swore that if his soldier had ignored his orders and used the girl for food or just as something to kill, he’d have his head.

   Then he noticed that there was a sword missing from the barrel in the back of the cart that was usually designated as a temporary armory.  He became even angrier.  If the soldier had taken the sword, then he was undoubtedly feasting at the moment. 

   But another scenario made its way into his head.  Perhaps the girl had gotten away, having killed the driver with the sword.  But that was impossible.  It would take a great amount of power to overcome the mental prison he had put her into.

“You two!  Go search the plains!” he shouted to two scouts that were close-by.

   They saluted and ran off.  Bezeran retreated to his chambers, smiling.  All of the pieces would soon be coming into play, just as soon as his soldiers informed him of the whereabouts of the boy with whom the girl that had escaped was associated with.

[c|s]

   In Tarewey, time seemed to freeze.  There was nothing but silence as a lone figure walked the streets, coming upon the form of Chiaroscuro, who lay in a pool of his own blood.  The figure saw the arm that was on the ground a foot away from him and reached down, picking up the severed limb.

   It was placed beside the bloody stump it had come from, and the figure started to chant some words while holding its hands over the place where the two pieces of flesh had been connected.  The ribbons of torn flesh began to bubble, and then stretched out to grab each other, pulling together and reconnecting torn muscles and ligaments.  Satisfied with its work, it stood there looking at the unconscious boy.

   Chiaroscuro opened his eyes, and through his hazy vision he saw the figure, framed against the sunlight.  He saw her bright blue eyes, not unlike his own, and her pale blonde, almost white, hair hanging down to the middle of her back.  He saw her wings, which were starting to flap behind her. 

   He reached out as she started to lift off, but she pushed his hand back down.  It was blackened, the flesh dead from the poison.  The strange woman, though, did not fix this ailment like she had his arm.  Instead, she started to sing a melody from Chiaroscuro’s past, and as his vision blurred and his eyes closed, she kept singing until he knew no more.

[Chinaren]

Arg! Loong!  And your other one!  I'm monsterously busy in RL at the moment,  but I'll catch up when I get the chance!

[NicTei]

I won't be posting any more of this until I've caught Masquerade up to where it is on Bebo.  Sorry if anyone actually liked this one!

[Chinaren]

I'll read slowly then.

[NicTei]

Yeeeeaaah, um, my motivation for this one is definitely gone.  Maybe later in life, I'll look back on this story and try a rewrite.  As it is, I think I'm going to close this book, set it on the shelf, and let it collect dust like an old friend.
...
Wait, that didn't sound right...
...

Anyways, I'd like to thank those of you that took the time to review it; the reviews were much appreciated and helped me make this decision.

For now, I'm going to continue working on Masquerade 1:  The Opening.

Goodbye Chiaroscuro, goodbye Ser.  'Twas fun, but not to last.

~RIP Chiaroscuro: August 14, 2008 - November 09, 2008~

[NicTei]

As you can see from the newly erected poll, I'm trying to decide whether or not I should post the rest of the chapters that I had written out.  This doesn't mean that I'm bringing it back; I'm just trying to show you guys where the story was going.  It was going to be one of those stories where the heroes (Chiaroscuro and Ser) head off somewhere to accomplish one goal, but end up roped into something completely different.

At any rate, get your votes in, I'm leaving it up until I've taken down the last poll for Twilight Rain (and since I just put up the second of three polls, that should be about two weeks from now).  I'm eager to see your input.

[Cutypie]

Voted. That chrismas specail made me want to read this, I don't see anything wrong... 8)

[NicTei]

Okay, since one vote was for it, one was against it, and one was neutral, I'm going to post the chapters that I had written, all the way up until the last word.

I remind you that this isn't coming back; I'm simply showing you how the story was turning out.

[Cutypie]

ok.

[NicTei]

   When Chiaroscuro awoke next, he was still lying in a pool of his own blood.  He thought that the strange woman was just a dream; however he found that his left arm was once again part of him.  He got to his feet, realizing that it didn’t hurt when he pulled the dagger out of his arm.  It was then that he saw that his right arm, all the way from the stab wound to the tips of his fingers, was nothing but dead tissue.  It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel good.

“I hate necrotic poison…” he muttered.

   He pulled out a glove from his bag and put it on his right hand, which was difficult when all he had to work with was his left hand, which was by no means the dominant hand.  With that done, he pulled a bit of medical tape from his med-kit, using that to wrap up his arm from the wrist to mid-shoulder.  When he had finished, he bit off the end and tucked it under the last line of tape.

   Throwing that back in the bag, he started forward once more.  While he walked, he wondered what in the world he was going to do if he were to run into the Haetans again.  He certainly wouldn’t use an Angel Bite; his right arm was dead, and he had no strength in his left.  He began considering his options.

   There were only two ways he could think of to attack:  either figure out a way to shoot Mana from his mouth, or focus his Mana on his feet.  The latter possibility was usually used to increase speed, but if he could concentrate the Mana well enough, he would be able to use it as a weapon.

   But with either of the attack styles, he’d have to think about affinity.  Affinity was what attribute of Mana control you were suited for.  Usually you found out over the course of training, but Chiaroscuro had used Mana for years and never discovered it.  It was possible to use any of the twelve known Mana attributes, but using his affinity would be less straining on him.

   Technically, there were eleven known Mana attributes, but there were rumors of a twelfth:  Blood.  There had been a great investigation into this attribute, but it was still up for debate, possibly being an inherited trait.  At any rate, Chiaroscuro didn’t have it, so he didn’t worry about it much.

   So he just had to figure out if his affinity was Fire, Earth, Water, Wind, Lightning, Light, Darkness, Metal, Venom, or Stone.  This wasn’t going to be easy.  Not even close.

[c|s]

   There was a loud pounding on Punk’s door, causing his head to explode with pain.  He got up, rolling one of the women off of him, and answered the door.  Desperad stood there, looking unimpressed.

“Put some pants on and let’s go.  We need to report to the Main Control room.  Apparently we’ve got a new mission.”

   Punk slammed the door and searched around for his pants.  When he finally found them, he threw them back on, along with his cloak, shirt, and goggles.  One of the women stirred, and he stopped dead in his tracks, not moving.  She just yawned and turned around, her deep breathing resuming.

   Punk slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.  Then, staggering as best he could through the hangover, he got to the Main Control room.  When he entered, Desperad fired a round into the air.  Since he was standing right by the door that Punk had came in, the pain in his head was unbelievable.

“OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!” Punk yelled, leaping about a foot into the air.

“Now that you’re awake, there’s a problem; one of the larger cities has been conquered by the Haetan armies!” Desperad said, stepping away from the door and taking a seat.

   This managed to get through the haze that clouded Punk’s mind.  His jaw dropped, nearly hitting the floor.  His eyes were wide as he tried to process this information.

“F-fallen?  To the Haetans?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, that’s not what I said.  What I said was that the Haetans have opened up a burger stand and invited us to be their first customers.  Want to go?” Desperad asked sarcastically.

“Shut up…” Punk shot back, clutching his head.

[c|s]

   Ser hadn’t been walking around in the plains for very long before she heard something coming.  She dived into the brush, peering out through the long grass as the Haetan she had supposedly killed came crashing through, rage in his eyes.  His neck wound had healed, no traces of the cut she had made with her knife.

“Where are you, you little bit-GAAAAAH!!”

   The Haetan’s insult was cut short as Ser leaped out of the brush and ran him through with the sword.  When he fell to the ground, she brought it down in a sweeping arch, trying to decapitate him.  He rolled out of the way in time, and the sword got stuck in the ground, the sharp edge cutting through even the hard earth like a hot knife through butter.

   She tried to pull it free, but the Haetan was coming and she didn’t have time.  She pulled out her knife and slashed at his face, piercing one of his eyes.  He staggered backwards, clawing at his face. 

   Ser ran towards him, finally freeing the sword.  She slashed at his neck, but luck was on his side:  he tripped over a root sticking up out of the ground and missed the slash entirely.  She stabbed down at him, but he caught the sword, the blade cutting into his hand.

“No way.  You’re mine!” he growled getting up and rushing her.

[c|s]

   When Chiaroscuro finally got to the edge of town, he was at a loss.  All around Tarewey were featureless plains, no distinguishing marks other than the snakelike path that wound throughout the afore-mentioned grasslands.

   He stood at the end of the tar road, where the dirt path began, staring out into the plains.  Then he turned around, finding the nearest house.  He knocked on the door, not surprised when an elderly lady answered.

“Excuse me ma’am, but you didn’t happen to see some kind of car, or other vehicle go past, did you?” he asked.

“Why, yes I did!  There was this strange black cart with dead horses pulling it!  It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen!” she replied, shaking her head.

“Thank you.  Did you see which way it went?”

“Oh, it followed the path out for a while, then took a left turn.”

“Thanks again, ma’am!” Chiaroscuro replied, walking down the steps.

“You’re welcome!  Have a nice day!” she said, closing the door.  And, when it was closed she muttered, “Pity that a nice boy has to deal with such a sorrow!”

[c|s]

   No more than ten minutes later, Chiaroscuro had found the tire tracks of the cart, as well as the hoof prints of the ‘dead horses’ that drove the cart onward.  He began to follow them, his pace quickening.  Soon, he was running down the path as fast as he could.

   Suddenly, a dagger stopped him, flying into his path.  He recognized it as belonging to one of the scouts.  As he took a step back, one of the soldiers leaped from his hiding place in the tall pampas grass, swinging his sword at Chiaroscuro.  He ducked under the blow, kicking out as he steadied himself with his left hand.

“Oh!  Look at his glove!  Now that looks badass!” one of the scouts, whom Chiaroscuro could recognize as the more cheery of the two, called from her hiding place.

   He now had to think quickly.  Only Mana Techniques would be able to help him face these guys on even a halfway even level.  He started to focus his Mana around his right foot, thinking of fire as he did so.  A large, blue flame flared to life around his foot, though it didn’t burn him.  He suddenly had an idea, coming so quickly that it was as if someone was telling him what to do.

   He pushed off from the ground, the Mana concentrated on his leg acting like a spring.  When he was in the air high above the Haetan’s head, he spun in the air, bringing his leg up.  As he fell, he brought it down, a large trail of blue fire following him.  The whole downdraft had built up the fire’s power even more as the oxygen rushed past it, and the small blaze grew even bigger, covering his whole leg as he slammed his heel down on the Haetan soldier’s forehead.

   The blue fire consumed him, and Chiaroscuro hit the ground, the flame on his leg going out.  It had taken a lot of energy; creating a Mana technique was rather stressful on a person’s body if they weren’t in perfect control of their Mana.

   Still, this new move, which Chiaroscuro dubbed ‘Blue Blaze Kick,’ did the job.  The Haetan was being consumed by fire, and the wounds weren’t healing.  At least, not very fast.  Finally, the Haetan collapsed to the ground, too tired to fight against the blaze.

[c|s]

   Ser stopped the Haetan’s charge by slashing at his face, causing him to jump backwards.  He circled around her, looking for an opening.  She could feel her side starting to act up; the closed wound throbbed, nearly shaking her entire body.  She was just glad that her baggy sweatshirt was covering her body’s tremors.  She didn’t want the soldier to see her weakness.

   Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a blue shine far out in the distance.  She turned, thinking it might be a Haetan trick.  As she turned, the soldier got behind her and pounced, tackling her to the ground.  He knocked the sword out of her hands, grinning horribly.

   He raised a claw, as if to shred her face, but was stopped when another Haetan, her skin painted a cross between brown and green, grabbed his hand.  He whirled around, facing the scout.  For a moment, there was confusion, and then there was anger.

“What are you doing!?” he screamed at the scout.

“She’s not to be killed.  That much should be apparent!” the scout replied coldly.

   While the Haetans bickered, Ser looked for the sword.  Locating it, she made a quick dive for the weapon.  She was stopped, though, when another scout, appearing out of the forest, grabbed her leg.  He dragged her back over, releasing her in between the other two and himself.

“She doesn’t know why she’s been called, does she?” he asked, looking at the other two.

“What are you sick freaks talking about?” Ser asked, fingering the knife in her pocket.

“Well, if you stop going for that knife, we’ll tell you…” the second scout answered.

[c|s]

“What the heck was that!?” the soldier now facing Chiaroscuro shrieked, looking at his downed companion.

   The other Haetan soldier still hadn’t gotten up yet, but lay there, hardly moving.  Chiaroscuro wondered if he’d actually killed a Haetan.  Then, to slash that hope, the Haetan groaned.

“Bah, he’s too weak!  We should just kill him now!” one of the scouts said, kicking the Haetan in the side.

“Leave him alone, Gerda!” the other scout said, pushing her away.

“Why?  He’s shown that he’s too weak to fight even a boy!” Gerda shot back, shoving the other scout.

“We’ve been tracking him for a long time with no rest, and he’s wearing all that heavy armor!  He probably just got tired!”

“You’re too soft, Gade!” Gerda said scowling.

   But, she left the soldier on the ground alone, slinking back into the tall pampas grass.  That left Chiaroscuro with Gade and the two soldiers.  While one soldier kept his eye on Chiaroscuro, Gade helped the other soldier up and into the tall grass.

“You follow us, and you’re dead!” the second soldier threatened, swinging his sword menacingly.

“Why would I follow you?” Chiaroscuro called after him after he had disappeared.

   Suddenly, he thought he heard a scream, carried by the wind that rustled through the brown grass.  Not wanting to take any chances, be it trap or imagination, he started to run after the sound.  He had only run fifty yards before his right leg felt like it was going to give out.

   His Mana was too weak from the Blue Blaze Kick, but he kept pushing on until he felt like he was going to collapse.  He pulled a bottle of water from his bag and drank a bit of it, feeling slightly refreshed.  He then kept running, although at a slower pace.

[c|s]

“That’s impossible!”

   Ser couldn’t believe what the Haetan scout had just told her.  It was impossible, as she had previously stated.  But was it?

   Suddenly, the scout tensed.  There was something coming through the bushes.  The female scout grabbed his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Rarin.  It’s just Gerda, Gade, and a burnt companion.  Probably Cheker.”

   The scout was right.  In moments, Gerda, Gade, and the wounded soldier appeared on the path, coming through the tall grass.  The other soldier, Jikir, was following them.

“Hik, how do you do that?” the male scout asked, helping Gade with Cheker.

“That’s not important.  What is important is getting this girl back to the boss!” Hik replied.

   They all stood looking at Ser, dissecting her with their eyes.  It was very uncomfortable for her.  Then, Hik spoke.

“So how did this moron end up like this?  Did he fall into a Balrog cave again?” she asked.

“No.  Some stupid boy with black and white hair did this.  We took out his arms a bit ago because of Cryxian Mana tech, but he came at us with his feet.  It was sure something to see!” Jikir replied, taking a long drink from a gourd of water around his waist.

   Ser’s heart nearly stopped.  Chiaroscuro?  He was coming?  But how did he know?  Would she tell him what she had learned, or was it best to leave it?

   There was a sudden thumping noise coming up the path, which wound through the grass at an angle, so that they couldn’t see who was coming.  Hik leaped backwards, into the grass, pulling the male scout with her.  Everyone else did likewise except for the soldier that had initially been chasing Ser.

   In moments, an exhausted Chiaroscuro staggered around the bend, almost bent over and breathing deeply.  He saw the soldier behind Ser and straightened up immediately.  There was a snapping noise in the brush, and the other Haetans leaped out at him.

   Having limited time to react, and less energy than time, he ducked to the ground with his right foot out behind him, gathering what little Mana he had left to his foot.  The Haetans collided overhead, and he pushed off the ground, zooming underneath them and skidding to a halt beside Ser as they hit the ground in a heap.

   They were immediately on their feet, weapons ready.  Chiaroscuro flopped down to the ground and Ser stood up, kicking the sword up into her hands.  She looked down at Chiaroscuro.

“I’m going to return the favor you did for me when you hit that sleaze ball Yorn with the Angel Bite at school.  Don’t wait up!” she said smirking as she charged at the Haetans.

   They crossed swords, Ser pulling off maneuvers even she didn’t know she could, barely dodging the various blades.  As she parried the swords and leaped out of the way of the daggers, Chiaroscuro was shouting out advice from the sidelines.  At one point, when she had all the blades blocked with her sword, she leaned back.

“Shut up!” she screamed, throwing them all off and tossing a sword that had been sent flying to Chiaroscuro.  “You think you can do it better, then go ahead!”

   Chiaroscuro caught it with his left hand, looking blankly at her.  She saw his gloved right hand and gave him a questioning look.  He shook his head, pointing out that she was still under attack.

“No good.  It’s dead.  Watch out!”

   As she blocked the slashes, Chiaroscuro simply sighed and entered the fray anyways, blocking with his left hand as best he could; even with his right hand, he could never fight using a sword.  But the odds were too great, and they were soon too tired to fight back.  As soon as they hit the ground, Chiaroscuro started to have an attack.

   He rolled onto his side clutching his chest over his heart.  He started to sweat as he groaned, eyes wide open and the veins bulging.  It started to get worse, but suddenly stopped altogether as he felt a hand on his head.

   He looked up to see the woman from before.  The Haetans saw her and stopped dead in their tracks.  She looked up at them, and there was coldness in her eyes that made Chiaroscuro shiver. 

   Out of nowhere, a lightning bolt hit the nearest Haetan, Gerda, and incinerated her.  The other Haetans took off at a quick pace, barely dodging the bolts of lightning that rained down after them.  Chiaroscuro watched, amazed, as this happened.  When they were long gone, he turned to thank the woman, but she was gone, no trace of her presence left behind.

[c|s]

   Punk and Desperad were standing outside the gates of the newly fallen town that Bezeran was now using as a base.  They were surrounded by Haetans, all of them holding some sort of weapon towards the duo.  Punk pointed his revolver from one Haetan to another, trying to figure out which one to shoot first.

“Hey, Desperad; I think we might have company!” he called to Desperad over his shoulder.

“Shut up you fool!” Desperad snapped.

   Punk knew that tone; Desperad was mere seconds away from letting Hydra loose.  Punk started to panic, and the Haetans sensed that.  They gripped their weapons, eager to shed some blood.

“Desperad, man, you can’t use Hydra!” Punk said, trying to reason with Desperad.

“Too late!” Desperad called as he flung Hydra to his side and opened fire.

[c|s]

   Ser and Chiaroscuro stayed sitting for a while, both too tired to walk.  But, when they thought they could stand the long walk home, Chiaroscuro helped Ser up, and they started to walk.  Despite how much time seemed to have passed, the sun was still high in the sky, and it beat down on the two.

“I’ve got a question…” Chiaroscuro said as they walked.

“What?” Ser asked wearily.  She was sweating heavily from the thick sweatshirt that she was wearing.

“How did you get into your clothes?  I thought you were in the hospital gown!” Chiaroscuro asked.

“Okay, let’s not talk for a while!” Ser replied, unzipping her sweatshirt in the hopes that it would cool her off.

[c|s]

   Bezeran couldn’t believe what had just happened.  Two mere humans had slaughtered the entire patrol that was down at city gates.  Now they were hiding in the city somewhere, no doubt with the help of the survivors of his attack.  Namely, those who were strong enough, healthy enough, and/or young enough.

   He entered his new favorite chamber, which used to belong to Lord Yuen.  The mutilated Defender leader was standing in the corner, shivering.  Bezeran kicked him, and he let out a high-pitched screech escape.  Smiling, the Haetan leader called in his returning scouts and soldiers.

Gade, Jikir, Hik, Cheker, and the male scout, Kilip.  “You wanted to see us, my lord?” Kilip asked.

“Yes.  I understand that you lost the girl.  Care to tell me why?” Bezeran asked with venom in his voice.

“Well, for starters my lord, that boy that you wanted Gerda, Gade, Jikir and Cheker to track showed up with some strange Mana technique and injured Cheker.  After that, he and the girl were fighting us when a Cryxian showed up and killed Gerda.  That’s all, my lord!” Hik answered.

   Upon hearing that a Cryxian had shown up, Bezeran shot to his feet.  The Cryxians hardly ever showed up on Earth anymore, preferring to stay at the top of the Tower in Terris-Naezera.  If one of them was here, then they must see something.

“So, one of the ‘Angels’ has been seen?  Very interesting…” Bezeran muttered.
He turned to Kilip.  “I want you to find the data file on this boy!  Because the humans returned their precious ‘World Wide Web,’ it should be easy.  Do not keep me waiting!”

“Yes my lord!” Kilip said, saluting and leaving at once.

“And the rest of you can do me a favor:  take these,” he said to the other couple of Haetans, handing them small capsules, “and plant them around key points of Tarewey.”

“What?” Gade asked.

“You’re going to blow that place to kingdom come!” Bezeran replied casually, dismissing them.

[NicTei]

Cpie, when you left that comment, I was still posting the chapter.  Without thinking, I clicked on the link to the left that told me there was a new post in Chiaroscuro, and then noticed that my chapter was still on the screen, waiting to be posted.  So, I had to go back in and do it again.

AARRGG!!

(btw, this is not your fault.)

[NicTei]

   Chiaroscuro and Ser had been walking for hours, and yet Tarewey was just a dot on the horizon.  Ser looked like she was about to collapse.  Her brow was shining with sweat, and her eyes were half closed.

“Man, I didn’t think I had run this far!” Chiaroscuro said wearily.

“Shut.  Up.” Ser muttered, just as tired as he was.

Chiaroscuro looked at her for the first time in a while and let out a bit of a gasp when he saw how tired she looked.  “Okay, you need to take off that sweatshirt completely.  Just unzipping it is obviously not enough!” he said, taking hold of the hood of her sweatshirt.

   She was too tired to protest as he pulled the black sweatshirt off of her.  She tried to hide her arms, but he saw.  He saw the scars.  But he decided not to say anything, for fear of upsetting her.  He slung her sweatshirt over his shoulder and pulled a bottle of water out of his backpack.

   He handed it to her, and she accepted gratefully.  Instead of drinking it, as Chiaroscuro had expected, she tilted her head back and poured half of it on her face.  She seemed to cool down, at least a little bit.

   He noticed that her skin was unnaturally pale, just short of being unhealthy and making her gray tank-top seem black in comparison.  In fact, he was quite sure that her skin was either lighter or the same color as his.  It was apparent that neither of them tanned much.

[c|s]

   Bezeran had given all of the bombers the permission to ‘unlock’ themselves, but only so much as to give them the right amount of speed needed to get the job done before Ser and Chiaroscuro got back to Tarewey.  They loved it.  They were moving at speeds they didn’t think possible, and only the fact that they had to complete their mission kept them from catching up to the two teens and killing them on the spot.

   As they blasted through the prairie, they passed Chiaroscuro and Ser, causing them to tense up, though they were in no position to do anything.  They passed the two youths, laughing to themselves.  Suddenly, Gade had a strange look on her face.

“What is it, Gade?” Jikir asked.

“Well, if Lord Bezeran wanted us to kill those two, why didn’t he have us catch up to them like this and slaughter them?  Surely it would be easy!” she replied.

“Just don’t argue with Lord Bezeran’s orders.  What he says is law.  Law, that is, until the Haetan Overlords take control from him!” Cheker answered.

“I don’t get what the deal is with the Haetan Overlords!  I thought that Lord Bezeran was the leader of the Haetans!” Gade said, looking thoughtful.

“Well, it’s a long story, but here’s the summary; the Haetan Overlords were the ones that directed Bezeran to direct us.  That’s the simple form of it anyways!” Hik replied.

“Can we cut the gab and just bomb the town already?” Jikir asked.

   The others nodded, and they sped up, eager to enter the town and destroy it.

[c|s]

“What the heck was that!?” Chiaroscuro asked as the Haetans blasted past them.

“Haetans!” Ser said suddenly. 

   She started to run after the speeding objects, despite her obvious fatigue.  Chiaroscuro ran after her, muttering “Just saved her, and now she’ll die of exhaustion!”  Thankfully, she didn’t get very far.  She collapsed to the ground a couple yards away, too tired to keep running.

   Chiaroscuro caught up to her, kneeling down to see if she was okay.  She looked unconscious, but her eyes suddenly snapped open.  She looked straight at Tarewey moments before a series of enormous explosions tore the town to pieces.

[c|s]

   Bezeran smiled as he saw the town of Tarewey demolished in a pool of water beside his new chair.  He had only sent the failed Haetans to the town because they weren’t going to be fast enough to escape.  They were all probably dead by now.

   Of course, as all evil leaders are from time to time, he was wrong.  One single Haetan had survived the explosion, and only because she had been near Chiaroscuro’s house, which was strangely unaffected, when all of the bombs went off. 

   Gade stared around, looking at the flattened remains of what was once Tarewey.  There were no buildings left standing, at least not completely, other than the house of Chiaroscuro.  Of course, she couldn’t feel her companion’s Mana, either.  They were all dead.  She looked at her own bomb and realized then what had happened:  Bezeran had rigged them so that when the carrier of the bomb thought they were setting it, they were actually detonating it.  This was their punishment for failing.

[c|s]

   Chiaroscuro couldn’t believe it.  Tarewey was gone.  Completely, utterly, totally gone.  He collapsed to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes.  His friends and their families had lived there, and now they were…

“Chiaro?  Isn’t that your house?” Ser asked, pointing to the building.

   He stood up again, wiping at his eyes with his left hand.  He looked as hard as he could in the direction of the standing building, and saw the highly recognizable, enormous window on the side.  His house was still standing!

   It was a bittersweet joy.  On one hand, he had lost all of the people that he had known his entire life.  On the other hand, though, he had his house, the place he had grown up in.

   All that he had lost pressed down upon him like a weight.  Pastor Johann, the church, the innocent people who had done nothing wrong, the young children still in the school when it happened, and the list went on and on.  Compared to that, what he had retained was nothing, just a speck of dust in a desert, or a drop of water in the ocean.

   But, had he thought about it long enough, he would’ve remembered that every single drop of water, every single dust particle, every small piece of something larger, had an effect on the things around it.  So too would the fact that his house was still standing have an effect on his overall destiny.  Like the Tower that served as a connection between Terris-Naezera and Earth, his house had stood strong against the assault of the Haetans.

“Don’t call me ‘Chiaro.’”

   Ser was surprised to see that Chiaroscuro responded with a strange smile.  He helped her to her feet, and they began the walk to his house, the only speck on a now flat horizon.  Something told her that things weren’t over; not by a long shot.

[c|s]

   Punk and Desperad had been trapped in one of the farthest corners of the new piece of enemy territory, the conquered city.  They fired over a collapsed wall at a small platoon of Haetans that was getting closer and closer, throwing spears and javelins or shooting with bow and arrow.  To Punk and Desperad, however, the projectiles were moving quite slow.

   Punk shot down another Haetan and grunted.  He was out of bullets.  He looked at Desperad, who sighed and tossed him another round of bullets.  While Punk loaded these, Desperad had to be careful to cover for him.  So, along with Hydra, he pulled the revolver out of his belt and began shooting with it as well.

   Punk looked up as he loaded, hoping he wasn’t missing too much.  His jaw dropped when he saw Desperad getting perfect headshots on all of the Haetans he fired at.  He started to miss the loader of his revolver, dropping the bullets on the ground.

“Just because I use Hydra doesn’t mean I can’t use a bloody pistol!  Now pick up the darn bullets, put them in your gun, and start shooting!” Desperad yelled at Punk, annoyance more than apparent in his voice.

   Punk nodded dumbly and picked the bullets up off the ground, loading them into the gun.  He then stood and resumed firing, though he was killing far less than Desperad had.  Desperad tucked the revolver back into his belt, muttering about incompetent sidekicks.

“Hey, who said I’m the sidekick?” Punk asked, shooting down another Haetan before it could throw its spear.

“You were the one who got us into this mess!” Desperad snapped, blowing multiple holes in one of his enemies with Hydra.

“How so?” Punk asked angrily, missing his target the first time.

“Because you stormed up to the damned doors and shot one of the twelve guards!” Desperad yelled back.

“Shut up…” Punk replied, blowing the head off of his target.

[c|s]

   Gade had hidden when she saw Chiaroscuro and Ser coming up the damaged sidewalk to the untouched house.  She saw Chiaroscuro pulling out a key and unlocking the door.  She wondered if she should follow them in, but decided against it.  She cursed, however, when he locked the door behind him.

   She crept around to the back of the house, climbing one of the few standing trees and looking in through the large window.  She was just glad that she still had her camo-paint on, otherwise she’d probably stick out like a sore thumb.  So far, no one was in Chiaroscuro’s room, but she waited, knowing that someone would come.

[c|s]

“So this is where you live?” Ser asked, looking around Chiaroscuro’s house.

   She was surprised at how big the place was, staring with wonder at the chandelier in the entryway.  When she came to a boarded up mirror, however, she stopped, looking quizzically at Chiaroscuro.  He saw her look and flushed a little, looking towards the ground with an embarrassed smile.

“Um…I don’t like mirrors…” he replied, rubbing his right arm absentmindedly and yelling at the pain caused by the friction on the dead arm.

   Ser looked at him, a slight amount of concern in her eyes, but he just shrugged it off, moving farther into his house.  Only a couple of things had been rocked off the shelves by the blast, and nothing was broken.  He ran up the stairs and Ser followed at a quick pace, having seen a humanoid figure down the hallway that quickly evaporated into thin air.

“Um, Chiaro…scuro?  Is this place…how do I say this…?” Ser started to ask.

“Haunted?  Not as much as I am!” Chiaroscuro replied, only half joking.

“Then why haven’t you and your parents moved?” the girl asked.

   Chiaroscuro stopped dead in his tracks, looking at a door beyond the stairway to his room, shut tight against the outside world.  Then, beckoning that Ser follow him, he bounded up the stairs into his room, his secluded paradise.  Thankfully, none of the windows had cracked, and none of the very fragile mementos of his had fallen.

“The truth is, Ser…there are no parents…” Chiaroscuro replied, haltingly.

“What are you talking about?  Just because they’re on a mission trip-!”

   “No, the mission trip story is a lie.  My parents are both dead.  They went to work one day and never came back.  That was when I was three years old.  I ran out, looking for them, but all I found were bloodstains in their car, which was flipped upside down on the road.  There were boot-prints in the blood, and a witness said that they were dragged from the vehicle by Haetans.  I ran back home, and have stayed here ever since.”

“And no one’s come to take taxes?” Ser asked.

“Do you really think people are going to come door-to-door during a war and ask people for money?  And if anyone does come, they’re usually spooked by the occasional apparition.  For some reason, the house doesn’t like company!” Chiaroscuro replied, booting the laptop.

“Then how come I’ve been left alone?” Ser asked.  “I saw an apparition in the hallway!”

“You’ve still got the jeweled cross around your neck, don’t you?” Chiaroscuro asked, studying the screen of the laptop intently, though it was blank.

“Yes, why?” Ser asked, pulling the necklace out of her shirt.

“It was my mother’s.”

   Ser looked at the cross around her neck in shock and immediately took it off, tossing it on the bed.

“I shouldn’t be…why did…?”

   A million of questions ran through her mind, and she tried to get them all out at once.  Chiaroscuro was saved from having to answer when a beep sounded from the laptop and the screen flared to life.  He clicked on the ‘internet’ icon, pulling up the homepage.

“What is that?” Ser asked, stowing the questions away for a later time.

“I have no clue.  Some government official appeared on my doorstep, handed it to me, and left.  It’s apparently a computer, like the machines before the war.  For some reason they’ve brought the ‘World Wide Web’ back online, and it’s free.  I guess it used to cost something.”

   Chiaroscuro checked his E-mail, but there was nothing.  However, as he was about to close out the page, another, higher beep sounded out, and a number ‘1’ appeared by the word ‘inbox.’  He clicked on it, and was horrified to see the image of Bezeran the Wicked staring at him.  The message read:

“Chiaroscuro,

   I believe I have underestimated you, and thus apologize; it is obvious that you are well-versed in Cryxian Mana techniques.  However, I know that the poison the late Gade sent into your bloodstream has irreversibly damaged your right arm.  But, there is a way to save it.  If you bring me the girl, I will heal your arm and let you go free.  Feel free to decline this offer, but I must warn you; if you do not have the girl here by noon tomorrow, I will dispatch stronger, more capable soldiers to hunt you down.  The choice is yours, take it or leave it.

-Lord Bezeran[/color]”

“You have to take me there!” Ser said suddenly, breaking the stunned silence in the room.

“What?  Why?” Chiaroscuro asked, jumping to his feet.

“If you get your arm back, then you can use Angel Bite again!  Whatever it is you’re using in its stead, it’s taking too much out of you!  Besides, I can escape by myself!” Ser replied, trying to calm down Chiaroscuro.

“No!  Absolutely not!  I already have a plan for my arm:  if we can make it to either the Tower or Luilian, two places yet untouched by the Haetans, then I’m sure we can find someone to heal it!” he protested.

“But it will take weeks, or even months, to get to either of those places on foot!  This is an easy way to do it!”

“In this case, I must quote the Bible!” Chiaroscuro said, smiling.

“Oh no…” Ser said, rolling her eyes.

“Matthew 7:13.  ‘Enter through the narrow gate.  For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter it, but small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.’”

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Ser asked, tapping her foot on the ground in annoyance.

“Basically, the way to salvation is hard, and on top of that hard to find, whereas the road to destruction is easy to find and easy to tread!” Chiaroscuro replied, the smile still on his face.

“Are you ever going to let this ‘church’ thing go?” Ser asked.

“Are you ever going to come to church?” Chiaroscuro shot back, his smile not fading.

   There was silence for a while, during which both questions hung in the air like a lethal gas.  Finally, Ser rolled her eyes and sat down on the bed, looking out the window.  Chiaroscuro gave a small laugh, then the smile was wiped from his face as he concentrated on the computer.

   He was searching for a map that would take him to Luilian or the Tower quickly.  He was in a great hurry to get his arm healed, but not so much that it would cost him the person he had just saved, the only person he knew that was still alive.  Suddenly Ser tensed, not moving.

“Chiaro!” she whispered.

“How many times do I have to-!”

“Shut up!  There’s something big in that tree out there!” Ser said, pointing to the tree just outside the window.

   As Chiaroscuro snapped his head up to look away from the computer, Gade launched herself out of the tree, landing on the roof.  She lifted the door to the spiral staircase leading into Chiaroscuro’s room open and slid down the railing, flipping into the air at the end and drawing her dagger.

   However, Chiaroscuro already had a feeble glow around his leg, and Ser had her knife drawn and pointing straight at Gade.  She wasn’t going to be able to fight them both at once, and she knew it.  She dropped the dagger and kicked it over to Chiaroscuro.  He picked it up and looked it over, wiping the poison off onto a black mass that was on the bed.

“Hey!  That was my sweatshirt!” Ser yelled at him.

   Chiaroscuro withered under her glare, and Ser seemed unaware that she was aiming her knife at his heart until he pointed to it.  She pulled it back, turning slightly red.  Gade started to laugh, sitting on the floor.

“What are you laughing at?” Chiaroscuro asked, sneering at the Haetan.

“You’re both just so funny!  Human couples are strange!” the Haetan scout replied.

“WE ARE NOT A COUPLE!” Chiaroscuro and Ser yelled in unison.

“Hm.  I see.  So saying the same thing at the same time is totally unlike two humans that are partnered together for life?” Gade asked, snickering.

“Shut up…” they said together, glaring at each other when they realized they had done it again.

[c|s]

    Bezeran had just finished off the last failure.  When Kilip had returned, he had told him that he had been kept waiting too long and beheaded him, burning both his body and his head.  He then read through the data file, which was printed out on paper, almost dropping it at a certain point.

“This can’t be true…a natural born…?” he said to himself, looking at the paper in horror.

He turned around, looking straight at his fastest messenger.  “Get the elites on that kid and kill him now!” he yelled, throwing the file to the floor.

   Bezeran was not going to allow such a being to exist, no matter how he had to go about killing it.

[c|s]

“Hey, watcha’ lookin’ at?” Gade asked, looking over Chiaroscuro’s shoulder as he searched the map on the internet for a fast route.

    She had been tied to a chair and interrogated, but had revealed nothing, so Ser had left her on the chair.  Still, the Haetan moved around by ‘hopping’ the chair across the ground, and had hopped all the way over to Chiaroscuro’s bedside.  Ser started to drag her back to the corner, but Gade stopped her.

“Wait!  I can get you to Luilian!” she cried, causing Chiaroscuro to look up.

“You’d better not be joking, Haetan!” he said coldly.  “If you are, you’re bait for the first wild animal you come across!”

“What?  You’re actually going to try and trust her?” Ser asked, almost letting go of the chair.

“Don’t worry; as long as one of us is awake, we’ll be able to watch her closely!” Chiaroscuro said in an attempt to reassure Ser.

“Yeah, like either of you will be able to stay up all night watching me!” Gade said before she could stop herself.

   She realized that she had said the wrong thing when both Chiaroscuro and Ser glared at her, then looked at each other.  She decided that she’d keep her mouth shut from now on; she wanted to be able to go with these two.  There were things that she had to do pertaining to both of them, and she knew that these two were her best chance at revenge on Bezeran.  He had killed her entire platoon for a single failure, and she wasn’t going to tolerate that.

“Maybe we should tie her up?” Ser offered to Chiaroscuro, snapping Gade out of her thoughts.

“I don’t know…wouldn’t she be able to break most conventional ropes?  And she’s at least the intelligence of a human being; knots wouldn’t be that hard for her…” Chiaroscuro countered, running his hand through his hair.

“Alright, how about this:  I give you my word that I won’t kill you or try to run, and you guys let me come with you after you’re finished in Luilian!” Gade offered, a disarming smile on her face.

   Chiaroscuro nearly smiled back, but he stopped himself.  It was hard to believe that he was starting to believe a Haetan, and actually considering letting her come with him and Ser.  He shook himself to his senses; why should he trust a Haetan?  Weren’t they the ones that had killed his mother and father when he was so young?

“And why should we let you come, Haetan?  You could just be a spy for Bezeran!” Chiaroscuro countered, glaring at Gade.

Gade suddenly adopted a dark, hateful look that chilled Chiaroscuro to the bone.  “Because he killed my companions, and that is something I will not forgive…”

“Oh please!” Ser said, exasperated.  “You failed to complete his orders!  Of course he’d kill you!”

“Well, you would know!” Gade replied, the same disarming smile not concealing the malice in her voice.

   Ser shut up immediately.  Chiaroscuro looked at her questioningly, but she didn’t return his look, instead looking out the window.  He stowed this interesting bit of information away in his mind, then turned back to Gade.

“You can come, but if you make any moves to kill or thwart us, we will use deadly force!” Chiaroscuro said, his tone firm.

“Why would I want to kill you now?” Gade asked, keeping up her disarming smile.

“That’s what I want to know…” Chiaroscuro muttered as he turned back to the laptop.

[NicTei]

   As soon as they were packed, they headed out of Chiaroscuro’s house.  He wasn’t too concerned about it; if it had stood (somehow) against multiple bombs, then a couple of petty thieves shouldn’t be too bad.  He had everything he wanted with him in his backpack, much of it left over from his last little ‘adventure,’ when he went out to find Ser.

   Speaking of Ser, the girl was now walking along side him, her hand always in her pockets, fingering her knife.  She had made a fuss about wanting to change her sweatshirt from the black one she was wearing currently to the white one she had worn when fighting the large, scythe-armed monster.  Chiaroscuro had been forced to remind her that her house was now indistinguishable from the dirt on the floor.

   Her mood, needless to say, had gone from bitter to absolutely sour, like a cross between a Harrelson apple and a lemon.  She trudged along grumpily, punting Gade in the backside if she started to walk too slowly.  When Chiaroscuro had tried to rebuke her, she had just given him a glare that made him seriously fear for his life.

   Out of nowhere, Gade fell to her knees, doubled over and hugging herself.  She was shivering, and Chiaroscuro, alarmed, stopped and crouched down beside her.  Her eyes, tinted red, were wide open and staring, and her mouth was just as wide, sucking in air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, starting to call the Mana to his foot.

“Bez-Bezeran!” she stammered, breaking into a sweat.

“What about Bezeran?” Ser asked coldly.

“He’s…messaging me…”

“Messaging?  You mean telepathically?” Chiaroscuro asked, interested despite the situation.

“Yes…he’s telling me…oh no!” she said, standing straight up, nearly knocking Chiaroscuro over.

“He’s sending the elites!” she said, looking around like a frightened squirrel.

   Chiaroscuro acted fast.  He grabbed Ser and Gade by the arms and dove into the pampas grass on the side of the road.  He let go about a foot in, sitting down.

“What do you mean?  Do you mean that we’re being trailed, or going to be trailed, by the elite of the Haetan army?” Ser asked, pulling her knife out and flicking it from hand to hand.

“No.”

“Really?  Then what does it mean?” Chiaroscuro asked, scratching his head.

“The elites he’s referring to are just from the platoons in his immediate area; the rest of the Haetan army is likely back in…a place far away.”

   Chiaroscuro closed his eyes, thinking hard.  There was no way around this.  There were no real hiding places in the plains surrounding Tarewey; the pampas grass, though tall, was very thin and provided little privacy if there was a Haetan in the area.

“We’re so screwed, aren’t we!” Gade said cheerfully.

   The disarming smile on her face was starting to get on both Ser and Chiaroscuro’s nerves.  Ser stopped tossing her knife from hand to hand and looked like she was about to stab the Haetan.  She and Chiaroscuro locked eyes for a moment, and she folded the knife back up and put it away.

[c|s]

   Punk and Desperad had since advanced further into the conquered city.  They were no longer cornered, but they weren’t out of trouble either.  As they sprinted through the city, Punk and Desperad would turn and shoot at the Haetans following them.

   There was a rather large crowd of the soldiers and scouts following them, and when Desperad turned and shot again, the bullet found itself lodged in the skull of a Haetan wearing long, brown robes with a staff.  He cried out in astonishment and started to run faster.  Punk, seeing Desperad accelerate but not knowing the cause, also sped up, trying not to be left behind.

“What’s…wrong!?” he asked, panting as he caught up.

“Mages!” Desperad shouted as he turned and fired again.

“Are you serious!?” Punk asked, looking at Desperad in shock and fear.

   To answer Punk’s question, a fireball whizzed past his face.  He screamed loud and long and started to sprint faster than Desperad thought possible.  He started to sprint to catch up, but felt a sharp, biting pain in his chest.  He was smart enough to know that it wasn’t the Haetan mages, but also knew that it could get him killed.  Pulling Hydra off his back, he stopped and stood in one place.

   Flipping a switch on Hydra’s side, three long, spindly legs folded out from beneath it.  Though they seemed weak, they were powerful enough to hold Hydra up unassisted.  Desperad crouched behind it, looking into a reticule that had appeared on the back.  He sent his Mana into it, feeling the bullets fly out fast and hard.

   While he fired, he swiveled Hydra around on the tripod, strafing the bullets over a wide area.  Haetans were torn apart by the hail of bullets Hydra spewed forth.  The spells of mages were halted as enormous lead slugs ripped through their caster’s bodies.

   When there were no Haetans left in front of him, Desperad hoisted Hydra back onto his back, slinging the strap around his shoulder.  He looked back, as if making sure that there were no more Haetans, though he knew that they were all dead.  Then, with a sly smile, he turned around and started to follow Punk, who was still sprinting on ahead.

[c|s]

   Gade, Ser, and Chiaroscuro hadn’t been on the road for very long when Gade suddenly pulled them all into the pampas grass.  Again.  Chiaroscuro started to yell, but stopped when he heard something coming down the path.  As four or five of what sounded like armored soldiers passed, Chiaroscuro felt an overwhelming curiosity, and he almost crawled forward to take a look.

   Ser, however, decided she’d rather live for a while longer, so she grabbed his arm and slowly pulled him back.  He realized, nearly slapping his forehead, that the people running past must be the Haetan elite.  He immediately shrank back from the path, and two more people passed.

   When they were all gone, Gade looked out of the pampas grass before signaling that the coast was clear.  When Chiaroscuro got back onto the road, the first thing he looked at was the tracks.  They ran together, so it was impossible to tell how many there had been, but they were definitely from heavy, armored boots.

“How many were there?” he asked, running his hand through the dirt by the tracks.

“There were eight of them,” Gade replied, looking off down the road.
 
   She seemed troubled, but whatever was troubling her, she didn’t say.  Of course, Chiaroscuro didn’t expect her to; she was a Haetan, and they weren’t known for talking about their emotions.  He got to his feet, grunting as a wave of pain shot through his right arm.

“We should get going.”

   Chiaroscuro looked at Ser.  She had taken the words right out of his mouth, which he thought was interesting.  Then he shook his head, calling himself stupid.  There was no way that they had a latent bond, or something!  Besides, ‘let’s get going’ was a common thing to say when you wanted to move on.  He wondered if he was over-thinking things.

“Is something wrong?” Gade asked him.

“That smile is getting to be annoying,” he replied, walking ahead.

“Well, what a nice response!” Gade replied sarcastically.

   They walked on in silence for a while, none of them saying a word.  The scenery around them didn’t change much; nothing but tall pampas grass for miles around.  In fact, Chiaroscuro suspected that if he were to walk any slower, he’d fall asleep on the trail, bored by the lack of action or variety in scenery.  He then, at long last, remembered something he was going to ask Ser.

“Hey, Ser?” he asked.

“Yes?” Ser replied, sounding annoyed.

“What was it that you were trying to tell me in the hospital the other day?  You know, about homunculi and Haetans?” he asked, recalling when she had staggered down the hallway towards him before being sedated by the false nurse.

Ser looked regretful for a moment, but replied.  “I was trying to warn you that the homunculi at your house were supposed to drug you so that you wouldn’t interfere with that fake nurse moving me out of the hospital.”

“Really?  How did you know about the homunculi, though?” Chiaroscuro asked, intrigued.

   Before Ser could reply, Gade drew her daggers, the metal shining in the light.  Chiaroscuro, alarmed, looked around for the source of danger.  Ser had her knife out as well, and both she and Gade were staring at the same place, some three yards ahead.

“What is it now?” Chiaroscuro asked, feeling his Mana flow to his feet.

“We’ve been tricked!” Ser hissed.

   As Chiaroscuro looked at her, he realized that there was something ‘off’; something wasn’t quite right with her.  He cautiously took a step forward, and Ser and Gade stopped him by grabbing him by the back of the collar.  He found a stone and looked at them.

   When they nodded, he tossed it forward.  For a moment, nothing happened.  Then, in an instant, there was a blast of fire, and the rock was vaporized.  Chiaroscuro stared at where the rock had been, too dumbfounded to move as the Haetan elite mage stepped out of the brush and launched another fireball at him.

   Ser barely grabbed him in time, flinging him out of the way and behind her back.  The rest of the Haetan elite came into view, apparently amused.  There were three warriors, all dressed in the same black armor and helmet, three scouts, black leather outfits almost identical to Gade’s, and two mages, their brown hoods covering their faces.  Since the scouts were wearing blindfold-like cloths on their faces, it was impossible to tell what any of them looked like.

“So, how’d you see through the trap?” one of the scouts asked.

“It was a hasty mistake of yours, I guess!” Gade replied, smiling.  She was hoping the smile would make them lower their guard.

   However, when she felt a stabbing pain in her chest, she realized that there was no way of avoiding conflict.  She shoved the elite scout away, pulling the dagger from her chest.  Chiaroscuro, summoning up the energy for a Blue Blaze Kick, and Ser, who was holding her knife tightly, both ran up and stood in front of Gade.

“What do you think we should do?” Chiaroscuro whispered to the other two.

“Split up and run for our lives?” Ser offered.

“Not a bad idea!” Chiaroscuro agreed.

   He made a half-step towards the Haetan elites, then, at the same time as the other two, sprinted off into the pampas grass.  The Haetans stood there, dumbstruck, but then the largest of the three warriors started to bark out orders.  In a matter of seconds, there was a soldier, a scout, and a mage chasing Chiaroscuro.  The same went for Ser:  a knight, a scout, and a mage.  Gade, however, only had a knight and a scout after her.

   But, no matter the amount of elite chasing them, all three of the travelers were in for a rough time.

[c|s]

   Gade sprinted through the grass as best as she could, her acute sense of hearing telling her that the warrior and scout weren’t far behind her.  The knight was hacking down the pampas grass in his way, and the scout was simply running through it like Gade was.  However, she wasn’t paying attention to the ground, and fell on a branch sticking out of the ground.  The two elites passed over her, skidding to a halt far ahead of her.

   She found the branch an oddity in an area where there were no trees, but didn’t care to try and figure it out now.  She got to her feet and started to run in a direction ninety degrees to where she had been running before, and the elites followed suit.  They ran in parallel lines, the elites waiting for the right moment to cross over and attack.

   Finally, they moved in for the kill.  The scout’s daggers flashed, and the fighter’s sword gleamed in the light as they came towards Gade.  She evaded by reaching out with her Mana and reading the air currents, a technique that was difficult to master, but helped avoid injury in many situations.  She dodged all three blades, countering with her own and leaving a deep gash in one of the scout’s wrists.

   Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Gade bolted off again, pouring poison on her daggers.  She had incapacitated Chiaroscuro with the very same poison, so it was likely there would be a similar effect on the Haetans, though there were rumors that Haetans were immune to this specific poison.  She could only hope that this wasn’t true as she tested her daggers.

   While she had been thinking about the poison, the elites had caught up to her.  In fact, had the soldier not hacked into her arm, she wouldn’t have noticed until they killed her.  Swearing, she spun around and slashed at the nearest, but her dagger bounced off of the soldier’s armor.  As the scout was about to kill her, something popped out of the ground and dragged her under.

[c|s]

   Ser wasn’t as fast as Gade was, and therefore abandoned the notion of running in favor of standing and fighting.  However, there was also a mage chasing her who happened to be casting some rather nasty spells.  So, she had to figure out how to defend against the blades as well as disabling the mage and dodging his spells.

   There was a sharp, biting sting in her cheek as the knight’s blade slashed across her skin.  She felt warm blood start to pour from it, and leaped at the scout, jabbing her knife down into his skull multiple times.  As he fell down, she kicked off of him and landed on the soldier, knocking him over. 

   Screaming in anger, the scout got to his feet, and while clutching his skull, he started making frenzied slashes with his dagger.  Ser, seeing that he wasn’t aiming accurately, stood in front of the warrior long enough for the scout to stab at her.  She ducked, and the blade penetrated the armor, plunging into the skin beneath.  It was the oldest trick in the book, and yet it worked.

   She kicked the soldier down and slashed out at the scout with her knife again.  The scout nimbly dodged the short blade and countered with his dagger.  She felt the blade dig into her shoulder and cried out in pain, falling to the ground.  She barely rolled out of the way as the scout tried to stab her while she was down, the dagger thudding into the dirt where she had been.

   She got up and punched the scout in the face, then picked up his dagger and threw it at him.  Not staying to see whether or not it hit him, she bolted away, going as fast as she could.  However, a red light flashed around her feet, and she was rooted to the spot.  She had forgotten completely about the mage.

   The knight charged her, and she waited for the bite of the blade.  However, all that came was a strangled cry as Chiaroscuro leaped out of the tall pampas grass to the side and hit him with the blue fire around his foot.  He landed on his feet as the warrior hit the ground, immediately turning to Ser.
 
“What’s happened?” he asked, watching the scout warily.

“It’s a stupid spell!  I can’t move!” Ser replied, twisting on the spot.

   Chiaroscuro thought for a moment, narrowly dodging a dagger swipe from the scout.  Then, he had an idea.  He reached down for Ser’s legs, but she stabbed her knife at him.

“Don’t you dare pick me up!” she hissed.

“Okay, I’ll just let these elites kill you!” Chiaroscuro said, getting back up and starting to walk away.

“Fine, you stupid, dumb, retarded, son of a-umph!”

   Ser’s rant was cut off as Chiaroscuro tackled her out of the way of the knight’s blade.  He hoisted her up over his shoulder and took off through the pampas grass, ignoring her protests.  Finally, she hit him on the shoulder and he stopped.

“What!?” he asked, looking around frantically for danger.

“This isn’t going to work!” Ser replied, getting off of his back.  However, the spell was still in effect, and her attempt to run resulted in her falling flat on her face.

   Chiaroscuro reached down and lifted her to her feet.  She forced him to turn around and, pulling on his shoulders, hoisted herself onto his back.  He grunted a little, but otherwise said nothing.  He started to run, spurred on by the sound of the elite crashing through the grass close behind him.

“Can you figure out any way to dispel the Foot-Binding Spell?” Ser asked Chiaroscuro.

“What do you think I am?  A magician?” Chiaroscuro replied.

“Well, sorry for asking you a simple question!” Ser shot back sarcastically.

“Sorry.  I’m just kind of intent on not dying!” Chiaroscuro answered.

   There was silence between them for a while except for the sounds of the knights hacking through the brush.  Ser folded up her knife and put it in her pocket, nearly slipping as she let go of her other hand around Chiaroscuro’s neck.  However, he grabbed onto her leg with his left hand to steady her, letting go when he realized what he was doing.  They both turned beet red.

[c|s]

   Punk and Desperad had stopped inside a rundown building, only to learn that it was still inhabited by the people that had built it.  They had agreed to hide the two inside, on the conditions that if they were found, they had to make it seem as though they had been captured.  They were shut into a back room, where there was little furniture and lots of dust.

   Desperad sat back against the wall, setting Hydra down beside him.  He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.  The pain in his chest had gone away, but it had left him feeling drained. 

“Do you think we should call for backup?” Punk asked.

“What a stupid question.  Of course we should call for backup!” Desperad replied, not changing his position.  “We’re running out of slugs, my Mana is almost halfway gone, and there’re more Haetans here than we suspected.  Call for the backup now!”

“You don’t have to snap at me…” Punk pouted, pulling out his cellular phone.

[c|s]

“Are you trying to get us killed!?” Ser screamed at Chiaroscuro.

   He had simply tripped on a branch, the same one Gade had stumbled over earlier, and Ser had flown off the handle.  He stayed still for a moment, looking at the branch.  Finally Ser smacked him over the head and he started to run again.

“Finally you start running!” Ser said sarcastically.

“That branch is out of place…” Chiaroscuro muttered.

“Of course it is!  It’s supposed to be on a tree, duh!” Ser snapped.

“No, that’s not what I mean.  I mean that there’re no trees in this area, so why would there be a lone branch there?” Chiaroscuro replied, straining to keep the venom out of his voice.

Ser was thoughtful, thinking about his point.  “Be careful of any traps.”

“Duh.”

   Inevitably, the elites had caught up to them.  Letting Ser get off of his back, he lashed out with the blue fire on his foot.  The scouts and knights jumped out of the way, but he managed to set fire to one of the mage’s cloaks. 
But, from all of the running and Mana techniques, he was too exhausted to keep up the Blue Blaze Kick.  The flame sputtered out and he fell to the ground.  He glared up at the knight standing above him.

“Poor little human!  Too powerless to defend yourself!  Die!” the Haetan screamed as he swung his sword down at Chiaroscuro.

   He was stopped, however, when a strange, gray-skinned creature blocked his blade with its own, smaller sword.  There was orange hair sticking off of its head, and it was only about two and a half feet tall.  It was garbed in armor that gleamed in the light, shining a bright silver.

“Not a goblin!” the knight moaned, annoyed by the creature’s appearance.

“Goblin?  That thing’s not green!” the mage said, putting out the fire on its robe with the twitch of a finger.

“That’s a specific type of goblin, you dolt!” the little creature snapped.  It’s voice, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t gruff and the words weren’t unintelligible.  In fact, it sounded as if it would be able to talk the honey out of a beehive.

   It turned to face Chiaroscuro, and he could see that its eyes were deep red, like blood.  As it turned, the light flashed off of its greaves and into Chiaroscuro’s eyes, slightly blinding him.  When it saw the effect it was having, it turned slightly away.

“Get up, will you?  The King is eager to see you!” the goblin said, pulling Chiaroscuro up part of the way.

“Um…sure…” Chiaroscuro muttered, unsure what to do in such circumstances.

“Excuse me, short stuff, but you’re not going to be taking our prey away!” the knight said, planting the tip of his sword in the ground.

“Oh really?  The Goblin King says different!” the goblin replied, swinging his own sword.

   They glared at each other for a moment.  Suddenly, the knight’s sword flew out of the ground and came crushing down at the goblin.  Snorting, the goblin’s own sword started to glow slightly, and there was a blur of motion.

   There were two different clanging noises that followed, one lighter and one heavier.  The first, lighter noise was the top half of the sword clattering to the dirt a small ways away.  The second, heavier noise was the bottom half of the sword, and the Haetan’s right arm, following suit.

As the Haetan knight screamed, the goblin snorted again.  “Stupid Haetan.  Size doesn’t matter!”

   He pushed Chiaroscuro forward, and when he got to Ser he tapped the tip of his sword to the toes of her shoes.  The spell around her feet immediately came undone and she was pushed forward with Chiaroscuro.  Out of the ground, an enormous hole opened up.

“We’re not going down there, are we?” Chiaroscuro asked.

“Wow, you’re some kind of brainiac!” the goblin muttered, shoving Chiaroscuro in first and then Ser afterwards.

   He gave a snarky salute to the Haetan elite before stepping back into the hole himself.

[c|s]

   When Chiaroscuro’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw that he was in a small chamber.  The light that was filtering down from above began to fade as the hole closed, and just as it was closing the form of the goblin that had saved them fell through it, landing easily on its feet.  It motioned for them to follow it, sheathing its sword.

“Hold it!” Chiaroscuro said as Ser got up, rubbing a sore backside.

“What?” the goblin asked, crossing its arms and tapping its feet.

“I’m not going anywhere until I get answers!” Chiaroscuro replied, looking at the miniscule figure.

“Then what, my liege, are your questions?” the goblin asked sarcastically.

“Um…who are you, and why were we brought here?” Chiaroscuro asked after some thought. 

   He hadn’t planned on the goblin allowing them to ask the questions.  He had expected it to refuse that right, and then he’d get into a fight with it.  He assumed that he’d win, but after the demonstration of the goblin’s power, he doubted his own abilities.

The goblin rolled his eyes.  “I’m the vassal of the Goblin King.  My title amongst the people of the Goblin Kingdom is the Messenger.  You were brought here for reasons that the Goblin King has kept to himself, and as I am only his vassal, I have no right to hear such things.  Now hurry, before I use force to get you moving!”

   Deciding that it would be better not to lose function of any more of his limbs, he shrugged at Ser and followed the miniscule figure.  They walked through a door into a larger chamber, lit by a large, purple crystal that cast its glow everywhere.

   They were at the top of an enormous stairway that led down into a large chasm.  In the bottom of the pit, clearly visible from their position, was a city unlike anything Chiaroscuro or Ser had ever seen.  In fact, no surface-dweller could ever imagine what lay beneath them.

   Lit by the crystal, it was seen that the buildings, though small, were quite tall, the tallest stretching up to the top of the stairway.  Off in the distance was a large castle-like building, impressive and also a little foreboding.  Chiaroscuro shivered as he gazed at the castle far away from him, knowing that only the Goblin King could live there.

“Stop gawking, halfie!  We’ve got somewhere to go, if you haven’t forgotten!” Messenger said, kicking Chiaroscuro in the back of the knee.

   Glaring at the goblin, he started down the long, stony stairway, his ultimate destination the castle.  He wondered what strange fate awaited him down here.  Then, he shrugged the thoughts off.  They were starting to creep him out.

[NicTei]

   When Chiaroscuro, Ser, and Messenger finally reached the bottom of the stairway, two of them had to stop.  Need a hint?  The only one that didn’t stop was the goblin, Messenger.

“Jeez…how many stairs does this ‘Goblin King’ need?” Chiaroscuro panted.

“You should see the castle…” Messenger muttered under his breath.

“What was that, shorty?” Ser asked, fingering her knife.

“Nothing, princess!” Messenger snorted.

“Watch it, midget!” Ser retorted.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  I guess I’m not armed with the right…how should I put this…information to go up against you!” Messenger shot back.

“What are you talking about?” Ser asked quickly, pulling out her knife.  She sounded slightly scared.

“Well, let’s just say that goblins have ears in all places…” Messenger answered.  The corners of his lips twitched, as if he were about to smile, but he stopped it.

   Ser looked back at Chiaroscuro, who was sitting on the bottom step and listening to the exchange.  He looked at her questioningly, and she looked away, unable to return his gaze.  She signaled that she wanted to have a private word with Messenger, pulling him away from Chiaroscuro for a moment.

“He doesn’t need to know about what I learned from the Haetans,” she said, looking back at him.

“Oh?  And why shouldn’t I tell him such life-changing information?” Messenger asked calmly.

“If you tell him, I swear that I will make your life miserable!” Ser answered coldly.

“Trying to protect the halfie, eh?” Messenger said, this time smirking a little.  The snarky smile tainted his otherwise decent-looking face.

“No, I just…wait.  Why are you calling him a ‘halfie’?” Ser asked suspiciously.

“You’re not the only one who’s got a strange herit-!  We must go now!” Messenger said, suddenly snapping to attention. 

   His hand on the pommel of his sword, he ran to Chiaroscuro faster than Ser figured a creature of his side could go.  He got him up by kicking him in the shins until he rose, and then started off at a brisk pace through the quickly crowding city, Chiaroscuro and Ser barely keeping up.  The goblins that were starting to fill the streets looked at the surface-dwellers in interest, shock, disgust, and anger.

   Unlike the common image of goblins, very few of them were actually green.  The color of their skin varied, though it was always either gray, green, red, blue, and even yellow.  They all looked different; some had horns, others had tusks, and still others had antennae.  Regardless of their appearance, they all stared at the newcomers as Messenger led them through the streets.

“So, these are goblins, huh?” Chiaroscuro remarked, taking the appearance of such strange creatures remarkably well.

“So, you’re humans, huh?” Messenger replied in a mocking tone.

He then turned to the crowd of goblins.  “Uhk!  Ghaka, ghaka!” he yelled, drawing his sword partly out of the sheath.  They all took large steps back, but still gazed at the strangers.

“What did you just say to them?” Chiaroscuro asked, intrigued.

“If you wanna know, you learn the language!” Messenger replied.

“You’d think I was asking him for an organ…” Chiaroscuro muttered to Ser, who rolled her eyes and nodded slightly.

   There was a loud noise, like the sound of hooves on a cobblestone road, and the crowd parted even further as a large black carriage, decorated with a royal crest, came into view, pulled by two great black horses.  The crest consisted of the roman numeral XIII, thirteen, with a horned crown behind it.  The horns, instead of looking demonic, looked like the antlers of a gazelle, twisted with segments in them.

   The door opened without any assistance, and Messenger ushered Ser and Chiaroscuro in.  As soon as all three of them were in, the carriage took off at breakneck speed, and Chiaroscuro felt that if he didn’t hold onto something he’d be sucked through the back wall of the carriage by a vacuum created by the speed the horses were moving in.  Ser, sitting right in front of him, had to hold onto a bar by the door to avoid falling into his lap.

   If they looked uncomfortable, Messenger gave no notice.  In fact, he seemed completely at ease sitting on the bench-like seat beside Ser.  He just sat back on the seat, completely still.  His eyes snapped open just as Chiaroscuro realized that there was a figure roughly the size of a grown man sitting beside him.

   He turned to face the figure and was astonished at what he saw.  Sitting beside him was what appeared to be human, but obviously wasn’t.  His eyes were bright yellow, gleaming in the dim light of the carriage.  His light brown hair exploded out from his head like a lion’s mane, running down to the middle of his back.

   He wore black clothes fitting of a King of Rock ‘n Roll, the leather somehow shining.  And yet, at the same time, the clothes were dignified.  When he opened his mouth to talk, Chiaroscuro could see that his teeth were slightly pointed, fitting of a Goblin King.

“Greetings!  I am Serris, the Goblin King!  I look forward to meeting you at the castle!”

   Chiaroscuro stared dumbstruck at the vision as it faded.  He looked back at Ser, and then at Messenger.  Only Ser shared his shock; Messenger was as calm as ever, looking out the window at the castle that loomed up in the dim light.

“What the heck was that?” Chiaroscuro asked, looking at Messenger.

“That was Serris, the Goblin King.  That much should be apparent.”

“No, I mean how did he get here, and why didn’t he just talk with us now?” Chiaroscuro reiterated in annoyance.

“That wasn’t him.  Well, not his real, physical self.  That was just a projection of his image on our minds.”

“Do you mean that we imagined that?” Ser asked, incredulous.

“Such is the power of the Goblin King,” Messenger replied indifferently.

“What have we gotten into?” Chiaroscuro muttered under his breath.

[c|s]

   So far, the backup hadn’t arrived.  Both Desperad and Punk had realized that their mission to infiltrate the city, though partly successful in that they were now inside the city walls, was null and void.  It was over; they weren’t going to get any further.  They could only wait for the helicopter to lift them out.

   The Haetans, as you may have suspected, weren’t going to let that happen so easily.  They were trying as hard as possible to find the duo, though they passed by the house numerous times.  But, this sanctuary had to be invaded some time.  Punk discovered that he was allergic to something in the dust just as the Haetans were in the room adjacent to the one he was hiding in.

   He held in the sneeze as long as he could, but inevitably it came out.  The sneeze exploded from his nose like a gunshot in the silence, giving their locations to the Haetans and covering Desperad in mucus.  Given the choice, Punk would prefer that the Haetans found him alone and unarmed compared to having sneezed on Desperad. 

   Now he couldn’t count on his safety in any fights that followed.  One of Desperad’s partners, with whom he had a quarrel, had gone missing after their third mission.  He didn’t want to go missing.

[c|s]

   The gates of Goblin Castle was intimidating, to say the least.  It towered over Chiaroscuro and Ser.  Chiaroscuro just wondered how Messenger felt, standing underneath that enormous work of iron and wood.

   There was a large golden knocker right in front of Chiaroscuro, the lion-like head glaring at him.  On the other door was a similar knocker, though it was frowning instead of smiling.  Chiaroscuro whistled.

“Nice knockers!” he said to no one in particular.

   It was only when Ser socked him in the shoulder that he realized what he had just said.  He turned red and turned away, coughing into the collar of his shirt.  Messenger just laughed.  It was a cold, harsh sound.

“State your purpose!” a voice boomed.

“Oh shut up, mineral brains!” Messenger replied.

   It was only when the knocker in front of him growled that Chiaroscuro realized that it was the knocker that had told him to “State you purpose!”  This place was surprising him more and more.  Messenger drew his miniscule sword.

“Let us through!”

“Oh, Messenger, it’s you,” the knocker replied, losing its determination to keep them out.

   Chiaroscuro had to laugh; the knocker actually looked frightened of the small gray creature.  The knocker noticed him laughing and growled again.  Its twin started to laugh, and for a moment Chiaroscuro could’ve sworn that it turned red.  But, as the door swung open, his attention was drawn from the small piece of gold to the enormous expanse that was the interior of Goblin Castle.

   The ceiling was mirrored, reflecting the black-and-white marbled floor far below it.  The columns holding up the ceiling were a shining gold, and the candle light glared off them fiercely.  Chiaroscuro felt Messenger shrink back a little from the light; he was a nocturnal creature.  He didn’t do lights.

   On the floor was a large, royal blue carpet, the golden fringes matching the rest of the décor.  Chiaroscuro took all these things in, deciding that if he were to buy his own house some day, it would look a lot like this.  He knew he was joking, but he still admired the place.

“This is amazing…” he breathed.

“This is just the antechamber, halfie!” Messenger snorted, pointing to a large door at the other end of the chamber that was the same color as the carpet.

“Why do you call me that?” Chiaroscuro asked.

“Why shouldn’t I call you that?” Messenger answered snidely.

“You must really have no friends,” Chiaroscuro retorted.

   Messenger’s only response was a dark look at the door as he walked towards it, his mouth hidden in his collar.  Chiaroscuro wondered what he had said, but didn’t dwell on it long.  The next chamber was a complete contrast to this one.

   It was dark and moody, a large gray lake visible out the single, enormous window.  Seated sideways in the great throne on the far side of the room was the Goblin King, looking quite bored.  There were goblins all around him, cheering, drinking, and generally looking and acting repulsive.

   When the Goblin King saw that he had company, he snapped his fingers and the goblins went rigid.  They bowed to him and left immediately, jumping off of perches in high places and out of small indentations in the floor.  When they were all gone, Chiaroscuro finally had a better look at the entire room.

   It was made of rough-hewn gray brick, with ancient steel torches sticking out of rusty metal holders in various places.  There was a stack of alcoholic beverage barrels in one corner, where one goblin had been laying and drinking them as some drips dropped out through cracks in the bottoms of the barrels.  A torn banner hung by the window, very dusty but clean enough to make out the crest on it.  It was the same crest that was on the carriage that had brought the three travelers to the castle.

“Welcome, halflings, to Goblin Castle!” Serris the Goblin King said, throwing his arms wide open and smiling a crooked smile as he strode towards them.

“Why is everyone calling me a ‘halfie’ or ‘halfling’?” Chiaroscuro asked.  Then, realizing how disrespectful he was being, he added “Sir?”

“Well, I see that Messenger has kept his mouth shut as directed!” Serris answered.

   Saying nothing more on the topic, he snapped his fingers once more and a table appeared, covered in food.  Chiaroscuro then realized that he was extremely hungry; escaping the elites and walking down the staircase had taken it out of him.  He eagerly took a seat at the table, saying a quick grace in his mind before digging in.

   Serris, Ser, and Messenger were seated during his grace, though they ate at a slower pace, Messenger and Serris hardly touching their food and Ser showing restraint, though she was hungrier than Chiaroscuro.  The Goblin King watched them while they ate, which Chiaroscuro found slightly unnerving.  He ate until he felt that he should stop; he never ate until he was full.  Doing so would make him sluggish and uncomfortable in any strenuous activity.

Setting down his fork, he cleared his throat.  “So, your Majesty, why were we brought here?” he asked, causing Ser to look up from her food to hear the answer.

Serris regarded Chiaroscuro for a moment.  Then, he replied, choosing his words carefully.

“I have called you here because I sense a change in the winds about the two of you.  The very fate of the world swarms around your hand, young halfling, and you, Ser,” he said, “and I want a part in this.  The goblins seek redemption from their reputation as fiendish monsters, so having representation in the group that changed the world would go a long way toward that goal.”

“Sire, you can’t be thinking of going with these two!?” Messenger barked from his position at the door, where he had stood after finishing his food.

“Firstly, why shouldn’t I go?  I have powers that would send that coward Bezeran back into whatever pit he led the Haetans out of!  Secondly, it was never my idea to go; it is you, Seye, which will accompany the halflings on their journey.”

“And why should I go?” Messenger asked, now on the defensive.

“Face it, Seye:  you are an outcast among the goblins here.  That’s why you preferred to be called ‘Messenger’; it makes you feel important among the people!  You should be jumping at the chance to get out of here and see more of the world!” the Goblin King replied.

   Messenger, whose name was apparently Seye, fell silent.  The Goblin King looked at him in satisfaction, and then stood.  He stepped out of his chair and pushed it in to the table, and then addressed the two before him.

“You two may rest in the city for tonight; I believe you will find a gift of goodwill waiting for you in your room, young halfling,” he said, nodding to Chiaroscuro, “and one for you as well, Ser,” he added, nodding to Ser.

“I have one question left, your Majesty!” Chiaroscuro said as Serris began to leave the room.

“Ask quickly; I have things to attend to,” the Goblin King replied, turning around halfway.

“Why do you address Ser by her name, and only call me a ‘halfling’?” Chiaroscuro asked.

   Serris considered it for a moment, then just smiled slyly and turned around.  The door closed behind him, annoying Chiaroscuro greatly.  There was silence for a while, and then Seye stepped away from the wall.

“Come, I must show you your rooms,” he said quietly, taking off at a brisk pace through the castle.

[c|s]

   The rooms were unlike anything Chiaroscuro had ever seen before.  The ceilings were high, allowing the bed to be huge.  It was a large canopy bed; the silk curtains draped around the frame were a deep crimson hue.

   The walls were made from gold bricks layered on top of one another, and the windows were covered by the same basic curtain that was draped over the bed, though they had golden tassels down at the bottom.  Looking across the hall to Ser’s room, he could see that her room was much the same, though the décor was blue and gold instead of red and gold.

   Both rooms had a fireplace, each with their own portrait of Serris hanging over them.  In Ser’s room, the Goblin King’s image was seated on a bay window, staring out a sea or similar body of water.  In Chiaroscuro’s room, however, he was standing tall, a sword thrust into the ground at his side.

   Opening the curtains on the side of the bed, he found a variety of objects set out before him.  Closest to the edge of the bed were two identical metal objects that were similar to the shin guards used for soccer, the gray of the metal gleaming in the dim light filtering in through the opening in the curtains.  There were slight knobs at the top corners of the items.

“Admiring our handiwork?” a voice asked from behind him.

Chiaroscuro turned to see Seye standing behind him.  “Those are goblin-made greaves; very valuable in the closer regions, and virtually indestructible.  Above them are the matching gauntlets,” Seye explained, pointing out more equipment.

   The gauntlets were made of the same metal as the greaves were, with the fingers made of a shimmering cloth.  There were two knobs on the top of the greaves, the part back by the elbow.  Chiaroscuro questioned about the cloth part.

“That material is made from the skin of a water elemental dragon.  They appear in the caves down below the city and offer us the use of their skin in return for not polluting their springs,” Seye replied.

   The final object on the bed needed no explaining.  It was a short sword, similar to Seye’s but without the blue stone on the pommel, a plain leather sheath set beside it.  He didn’t know how he was supposed to use it without his right arm, but he’d accept it anyways; if Serris the Goblin King had the power he claimed to have, he didn’t want to risk angering him.

   He put on the equipment and found that it fit him perfectly; nothing was too snug or too loose.  He crossed the hall in his gear, breaking it in as well as going to see what Ser had received as a gift.  He knocked on her door, but no one answered.  He knocked again, louder this time, but still nothing.

   He decided that she must’ve fallen asleep; they were both tired from eluding the elite Haetan soldiers and then trekking down the enormous stone staircase to the bottom of the pit where the Goblin City lay.  So, deciding to follow her lead, he entered his room and laid down on the bed, taking off the greaves and gauntlets and putting them in his bag with the sword and sheath.  He then fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

[c|s]

   Ser was lying on her bed when Chiaroscuro knocked.  She nearly got up, but refrained.  She already had her gifts from Serris packed away under her bed; she’d get them in the morning.  She heard Chiaroscuro knock again and got up, standing with her hand on the door.

   When he left the door, she leaned against it and slid down to the floor.  She steeled herself against whatever emotion was trying to take over.  She had to distance herself from him; it would keep him from being hurt.

[c|s]

   Thankfully, Desperad skipped punishing Punk and went straight to shooting down the Haetans that were quickly invading the room they were taking refuge in.  Desperad was currently taking them down with masterful headshots, firing Mana out of his pistol.  He wanted to do minimal damage to the walls of the room so as to prevent the Haetans from getting in easier.

“When is that backup coming!” Desperad hissed over the noise.

“I don’t know!  They never called back!” Punk shouted over the noise of the pistol.

   As if on cue, there was a loud chopping noise outside, as if great blades were slicing through the air.  Punk recognized it as the helicopter almost immediately.  It suddenly became visible through the window, and Desperad tackled Punk to the floor just as the machine gun tore through the thin walls of the house, blowing the Haetans unlucky enough to get hit through the opposite wall.

   Desperad hurled Punk out of the hole in the wall and onto the helicopter’s windshield, and then leaped out himself, catching one of the railing-like protrusions on the bottom of the helicopter.  He pulled himself up into the cockpit and dragged Punk in as well.  The helicopter lifted off without further adieu, and Punk and Desperad escaped the overtaken city.

   Lord Bezeran apparently had different ideas, for he was soon seen erupting out of the city’s castle on top of a large, bat-like dragon.  It had short black fur all over, and enormous ears.  Its long tail was tipped with a blade as sharp and shiny as the many teeth that lined its gaping mouth.  Its talons gleamed in the light, as if aching to tear apart the small metal flying machine.

   Desperad was the first to see this, glancing into a mirror in the cockpit.  Turning pale, he pointed this out to Punk, who cried out in alarm.  The pilot turned to see what was wrong and threw the helicopter into a dive to dodge a barrage of fire.

“We are so screwed!” Punk shrieked as he saw the ground coming closer.

[c|s]

   In the deep forests in a remote mountain region, thirteen humanoid figures barreled along, moving at speeds most people figured impossible.  Trees were knocked down as they moved, in turn knocking down the trees around them.  It was a deadly chain reaction that left many animals underneath trees.

   The Haetan Overlords siphoned the energy off of the living creatures and the dying creatures around them.  They had been asleep a long time, and they hadn’t reached full power just yet.  They felt their power drain a little as their subordinate Bezeran summoned one of their creations, the bat-like dragon that he was now using to pursue the helicopter.

   They kept up their progress, animals falling dead as their energy was drained by the evil beings.  Finally, the Haetan Overlords left the dense forests behind, moving on to rocky, featureless plains.  They were headed towards their disobedient servant, to show him what the consequences would be if he were to continue disobeying.

[c|s]

   Messenger sat in his room, looking at the crystalline structure that provided them with light.  In reality, it was all show.  There was no way that the Goblin King, in all of his wisdom, would rely on a single crystal, which hadn’t been copied so far, for power and light.  He had taken certain precautions to make sure that there would be backup power in case the crystal somehow ran out of Mana, so there were now two large Mana-run generators beneath the city, adjacent to the caves where the water dragons slept.

   Unfortunately, there was a flaw with his plans.  The Goblin City had no defense force whatsoever.  Well, no established defense force.  The goblins would rise to the cause if the need came, but only when the intruders were upon them; they needed to be ready with a defense force no matter how far away the enemy is.  The only defender of the kingdom so far was the Goblin King himself, and though his power was great, if he fell, all was lost.

   There was a knock at his door that almost went unnoticed, but the second knock caught his attention.  He picked up his sword, which he had cleaned off from slicing through the Haetan’s arm earlier, and stalked to the door.  He opened it with his hand on the handle; he didn’t trust the humans.

   The only figure that greeted him, however, was that of the Goblin King.  Messenger bowed low, straightening up as soon as Serris said, “Rise.”  Serris walked to the window and looked out it, staring at the crystal.

“Your Majesty?” Messenger asked.

“Seye, you will have a second mission while travelling with these two,” the Goblin King said immediately, not taking his eyes off of the crystal.

“Why do you say ‘two’?  There was a Haetan scout with them!” Messenger interjected.

“She escaped our custody when she came to; she apparently didn’t want to be seen with goblins.”

“I see, sire.”

“But, I digress,” Serris said, shaking his head, “your secondary mission will be to monitor what these two halflings are doing.  Their personal lives are not of concern, however, their aims for the saving of the world, if they even get that far, are something that should be watched closely.  If said aims don’t attend to our needs, then we must sever ourselves from them completely.”

   Serris stopped, thinking for a moment.  “What we need, as a people, is liberation from our position at the bottom of the social system.  However, we also need an assured place in the outside world, and established ties with many of the higher-up people of the world.  That way, if something does go terribly wrong, we have something to fall back on, either blackmail or a place of solace.”

“And you want me to establish those ties?” Messenger asked, knowing the answer.

“At any cost,” the Goblin King confirmed.

[NicTei]

   In the middle of the night, Chiaroscuro heard a knock on the door.  He was in his undershirt and boxers, so he pulled on his jeans, throwing a black bathrobe on over his upper torso.  He pulled the belt tight and put his dead right arm in the open neck of the robe like a sling, a style he had seen in depictions of ronin, rogue samurai. 

   He grabbed the goblin sword he had been given with his left, unsheathing it and putting it down at his side.  The blade felt awkward in his left hand; even if his left hand had been his dominant hand, he had never used a sword before, so it wouldn’t have been the most comfortable way to fight.  Then, stalking over to the door, he grasped the cold brass knob and turned, opening the door.

   He stopped his sword when he saw it was Ser.  Oddly enough, she was actually wearing white.  What made them both a little uncomfortable, however, was that the white garment was a night dress.  Chiaroscuro coughed and looked up at the ceiling, oblivious to the fact that his hand was keeping the robe open enough that his chest showed through.

“I think I’ll come back another time…” Ser said, turning red.

“No, wait.  What did you want?” Chiaroscuro asked.

“I was going to tell you something, but now that I’ve thought about it, you don’t need to know,” Ser replied, quickly crossing the hallway and entering her room closing the door behind her.

   Chiaroscuro stared out into the hallway after her, wondering what it was that she was going to tell him.  He then realized that his pale chest was showing as a draft from somewhere further down the corridor blew across his exposed flesh.  Even though no one was looking, he was embarrassed and quickly pulled his robe shut, stepping into his room and closing the door.

[c|s]

   Ser stood with her back to the door, face to the ceiling and eyes closed.  She had nearly told Chiaroscuro what she had learned from the Haetans, even though such information might destroy him.  She vowed to never be that weak again.  The secret would go with her to the grave.  And if she wasn’t careful, that could be sooner than she thought.

   Opening her eyes, she found that she wasn’t alone in the room.  Serris was standing there, his form framed in the light from the crystal outside the window.  There was devilish grin on his face.

“What do you want?” she asked coldly, suddenly wishing she had her knife.

“Oh, I just wanted to have a friendly talk,” the Goblin King replied, a neutral expression taking his face as he crossed his hands behind his back and started to stride towards the fireplace.

“About what?” Ser asked, not taking her eyes off of him.

“Well, there are numerous matters that we must talk about, the first of which being…well, you know, I assume.  But of course you know; how could you forget?” he said, ending his reply with a question, his tone amused.

“Get out of my room you sick fu-”

   Before she could finish her sentence, Serris had literally flown across the room and pinned her to the wall, a hand over her mouth.  He was looking at her down the tip of his nose, as if it had been too easy for him to take her by surprise.  Then he lowered his head so that his eyes were staring into hers.

“What you have-no, what you are-could completely destroy him,” he whispered into her ear, moving his head closer.  “Sure, he might accept you, but if he doesn’t?  And what if it does destroy him?  He may be too shattered to put back together!  Do you really want that?”

   Judging by the look of helplessness in her eyes, the Goblin King could tell that her answer was “No.”  He stood straighter, though he didn’t move his hands.  Then, after a moment of silence to let it all sink in, he spoke once more, his voice menacing.

“Then don’t attempt to tell him again.”

   Having said that, he left, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.  Ser thought about what the Goblin King had said for a moment, trembling.  Then, as tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, she slumped down against the wall, falling asleep with her head in her hands.

[c|s]

   When the morning came around, neither Chiaroscuro nor Ser were well-rested.  They both had bags underneath their eyes, having been awake for most of the night.  The only difference between them was that Chiaroscuro tried to wake himself up when it came to getting to the Goblin King’s chambers for breakfast; Ser was quiet, subdued, and avoided meeting Chiaroscuro’s eyes or answering his questions.

   Chiaroscuro, seeing that conversation wasn’t going to happen, stopped talking.  Messenger joined them as they passed his room.  He was looking wide awake, which made Chiaroscuro feel a twinge of jealousy and anger.  Why had the goblin had such a restful night?  Well, he reasoned, he probably didn’t have Ser knocking on his door in a nightgown.  That wasn’t the easiest image to get out of the mind.  Well, his mind, at least.

   And that’s what bothered him.  There were a million possibilities, equal parts good and bad, facing him down as he walked to breakfast.  He could be killed as the Goblin King decided to withdraw his request and see humans as nothing but pests to be exterminated.  He could be the hero of the world.  All of these possibilities were before him, and all that was on his mind at the moment was Ser.

   When he was finally brought out of his thoughts by the sound of the door to Serris’s chambers opening, he was glad.  No more was his mind his private sanctuary; it was a place of confusion and chaos.  He was just glad to have something else to occupy him, which seemed to be getting through breakfast without angering the Goblin King.  He didn’t know how in the world he could possibly enrage Serris when they were doing nothing more than sitting at a small table eating…whatever it was the goblin cooks had prepared, but he knew better than to assume that it was impossible to tick someone off over something as small as food.

“I trust you slept well?” Serris asked when they sat down.

“Like a log,” Chiaroscuro replied, lying through his teeth.

Ser just grumbled.

“Glad to hear it,” the Goblin King said, a look of amusement on his face.

   Chiaroscuro didn’t know what Serris was so amused about.  Was it that Ser was expressing her fatigue?  Or was it something else entirely?  ‘Bah, I don’t care,’ he thought, ‘let the Goblin King be amused at our tiredness if he wants!’

“Well, I guess you three should be off, then,” Serris said, nodding to the three in front of him as Chiaroscuro finished off of his food.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty!” Chiaroscuro replied, bowing low as he picked up his things.

“The pleasure was mine, young halfling,” the Goblin King said, a sly smile on his face.

   They left shortly afterward, Messenger leading them through the town.  Unlike their arrival in Goblin City, Chiaroscuro and Ser weren’t bombarded with citizens.  In fact, the streets were quiet and empty.  It was like a ghost town.

“Not big on ‘goodbyes,’ are they…” Chiaroscuro muttered.

“They probably aren’t awake yet; you can’t see it from here, but it’s still dark out,” Messenger replied.

   Ser made no comments; she shuffled along just behind Chiaroscuro and their shorter companion.  Chiaroscuro wanted to talk to her about it, ask her if something was wrong, but he refrained from it.  He told himself that it just wasn’t the best time, but the real reason was that he was a little-brace yourself for it-shy.  He would never admit it, even to himself, but that was the reason.

“Probably should’ve had more sleep last night, Princess!” Messenger said to Ser with a sneer.

   Without warning, she snapped her head up.  She grabbed Messenger by his neck and pinned him against the wall of the house, he knife at his throat.  She glared into his eyes as he scratched at her arms, trying to get her off.

“Y’know, Chiaroscuro, I don’t think we really need this runt with us!” Ser said coldly, not taking her eyes off of the goblin in her grasp.  He was glaring at her, full of hate.

Chiaroscuro put his left hand on her shoulder.  “No, we need him.  He severed that elite’s arm when we couldn’t even hurt them; his strength could prove useful.  Besides, he’s the Goblin King’s vassal; what would we look like if we killed him, especially in the city?”

Reluctantly, Ser let go.  “Fine,” she muttered, almost running onwards.

   Messenger watched Chiaroscuro chase after her, attempting to calm her down.  There was a lot of yelling, and he was almost certain that no goblin could sleep through this.  He couldn’t bring himself to tell them that the strength he had used earlier was from the Goblin King himself, and as such was a one-time deal.  So, he just shrugged, sighed, and followed his yelling companions.

[c|s]

   The infighting had stopped soon after they left the Goblin City, possibly due to the fact that they were now back out on the surface.  Chiaroscuro was just glad that the sun wasn’t shining; after being underground with only the crystal as a light source for even a short time, he guessed that the sun would be blinding.  However, he and Ser weren’t speaking.  At all.

“Ah, peace and quiet!” Messenger said, observing the fact that Ser and Chiaroscuro wouldn’t talk to each other.

“Oh, shut up!” Chiaroscuro snapped.

   They looked around for a while in the slowly-brightening dawn until Messenger finally pulled out a map.  It was very detailed, with a small tower showing where the Tower was, and a small hole with a crystalline structure in the middle of it showing where the Goblin City was, and a city not too far away from the Tower showing where Luilian was.  If the map was accurate, they were farther away from the Tower and Luilian than when they had started.

   Chiaroscuro groaned in disbelief.  They now had even farther to go to get to the two places that could possibly give him the antidote to his arm.  Looking back, he realized that he could’ve just asked Gade if she had an antidote, seeing as how she carried the poison, but it was a little late for that now.

“What’s wrong?  Don’t want to get in the exercise?” Messenger asked sarcastically.

“You know, I don’t think I like your attitude!” Chiaroscuro shot back, hints of the berserk glare that was coming more often now in his eyes.

“And I don’t think I care what you don’t like about me,” Messenger replied calmly.

“I can make this trip unpleasant for you…” Chiaroscuro growled at the diminutive figure.

“As can I,” Messenger shot back, inspecting his claw-like nails.

“What’re you going to do, short-stuff?” Ser asked, cutting in to the conversation.

“Oh, look who wants in on the conversation!  It’s the little hal-GAH!!”

   Messenger’s response was cut off as Ser punted him across the road.  Snarling, he got to his feet and charged, drawing his sword as he rushed at Ser.  While they clashed, Chiaroscuro fumbled around through his bag, looking for his greaves and gauntlets.  Finding them, he hurriedly put them on, which was a difficult task when he only had the use of his one hand.

   But, he finally got them on and jumped into the fray, catching Messenger’s sword with the gauntlet and marveling at how resilient the metal and dragon skin was.  There weren’t any marks on either material, even after Messenger tore his sword out of Chiaroscuro’s grip.  For a moment, Chiaroscuro didn’t know who he was siding with, having both Ser and Messenger angry.  Then, he just made what he thought was a random choice, siding with Ser.

   He hoped that his Blue Blaze Kick wouldn’t melt or damage his greaves in any way; since getting them, he had taken a liking to them.  To his delight, the blue fire did nothing to the metal, not even heating it up.  He started to kick out randomly, but Messenger just smirked.  Ducking under one of Chiaroscuro’s kicks, he slashed toward the inside of his thigh, a possibly fatal blow.

   However, there was the sound of metal striking metal, and Chiaroscuro saw that Ser had blocked the blow with her knife.  Chiaroscuro pulled out the sword he had received with the greaves and gauntlets and tossed it to her.  She nodded in thanks and they resumed their attack on the goblin.

   Finally, after hours of fighting, and many injuries, they all ran out of energy.  Ser dropped Chiaroscuro’s sword, Messenger fell to one knee, and the blue fire around Chiaroscuro’s foot sputtered out.  Still, they waged war with their glares, the tension present almost tangible.  Then, out of nowhere, Messenger started laughing, which made Chiaroscuro laugh, which in turn caused Ser to start laughing.

   They didn’t know why they were laughing; they just were.

[NicTei]

And so ends Chiaroscuro.  As I said before, perhaps I'll write it again some day, but until then, this story is dead.

[Chinaren]

A little abrupt but...   

We shall wait until Chickoroaso returns once more. 

[NicTei]

Well, I did say that I was going to post all the way to the last word.  And that was the last sentence; that's it.  When I decided to stop writing Chiaroscuro, I didn't finish the chapter just for the heck of it, I closed the Word doc and moved it to a different folder*.

And I'm not sure that Chiaroscuro will be returning at all, and if it does, probably not in the near future.



*I'm a neat freak with the computer.  I've got a folder for Large Projects and a folder for Small Projects, with various other folders for things like TCC Submissions and Competition entries.  It's quite tedious.