Curse

DarkBeing · Dec 19, 2006, 06:20 PM // 18:20

My second GW fanfic.

Summary:

History tells us that the nation of Orr, perhaps the greatest nation of Tyria, was wiped away because of one man - Vizier Khilbron. But the stories tell us nothing about Khilbron himself, only the damage he caused. Here Khilbron is revealed to be a man who wants nothing more than to save his people, and how his actions lead about to Orr's destruction.

***

Requiem for Orr
The Untold Story of Vizier Khilbron

He saw the city burning.

Arah, the holy city of the Orrian Empire where legend says the gods once lived, crumbled around him. He could smell the scent of sulfur and his ears were ringing from the maddening screams of trapped women, clawing for escape. He could hear the cries of abandoned infants and the fading cries of men in their final moments.

The mighty temples dedicated to the gods had been smashed, their treasures pilfered. The sky was dark, the air thick with the stench of death.

And then he saw them – the Enemy. Great beasts that walked on two legs and burned pyres of their still screaming victims to their savage gods. Their dark eyes cloudy and distant, as if in a violent trance.

They saw him.

He turned to run, but they had him in moments. He felt their warm breath on his neck, felt their claws sink into his skin, reaching for his heart.

And in those last moments of terror, they whispered his name.

Khilbron.

***

He woke from the dream with sweat dripping down his face. Gingerly he looked around, his eyes darting towards the dark corners of his room to see if anything was there. Satisfied, he slowly slid out of bed and padded toward the mirror.

Tirus Khilbron studied himself for a moment, staring at the reflection that looked back at him with sunken gray eyes. His face was gaunt and pale, much like the rest of his body. A thinly trimmed goatee snaked up his chin to rest under his slightly pointed nose.

But beneath all of this lay a calculating mind. Although not one to normally express himself in public, Khilbron secretly prided himself on his intellect. He was a student of the arts, knowing much in the ways of culture and the arcane.

It was this knowledge that allowed him to become King Reza’s personal Vizier, in charge of advising the sovereign on matters concerning the Kingdom of Orr.

Oftentimes Khilbron sought the aide of the gods through meditation, and they rewarded him with powerful visions. He had used these visions to guide Orr through both peace and disaster.

But this last vision troubled him. Usually his dreams were clouded and vague – it was through extensive contemplation that he deciphered their meaning. But this one was so real, he could practically feel the beast’s eyes boring into his, its gaping mouth filled with rotten dangling teeth just ready to tear out his flesh . . .

Khilbron shook off the image and put on his robes. He would speak to Reza immediately.

This was not a vision to be ignored.

***

It turned out that Reza had already gathered several other members of his court, and they were in the midst of a heated discussion.

Khilbron remained calm, but inwardly he was furious – why had Reza not summoned him first?

“Ah, Vizier Khilbron, there you are,” King Reza said to him. The king was an aging fighter, more suited for battle than the strains of ruling an empire. But he had always been fair to the people and Khilbron respected him. He took his seat beside the king and waited for an explanation.

Grudo, one of the king’s ministers spoke first. “I went to wake you but you were tossing in your bed, muttering strange things,” the minister said.

“He thought it would be prudent to let you continue your spectacular fantasies. We wouldn’t want to disturb your daily chat with the Supreme Ones!” laughed Victo, Reza’s top general.

Khilbron scowled at the warrior – Victo had never taken Khilbron’s visions seriously even when they came true – but he suppressed his annoyance and turned to Reza.

“My lord, I experienced a strong vision,” Khilbron explained.

“Did it involve Tyla, the palace dancer?” Victo asked with a leer, and there were several chuckles.

Khilbron ignored him, but before he could speak another minister burst in. It was Terick, a bumbling fool who Khilbron would have removed from office if he weren’t a favorite of Reza.

“My lord, there is a messenger from Ascalon to see you,” Terick said, looking squeamish before the group of ministers.

Khilbron turned to get a look at the visitor. He was a quivering young boy with a scroll that bore the mark of the Royal Court of Ascalon. Khilbron wondered if this was a diplomatic overture – for decades Orr had clashed with the kingdoms of Ascalon and Kryta in a series of guild wars that had tired all three nations. He wondered if Ascalon was finally giving in.

“I bring a message from the honorable King Adelbern,” the boy explained. He unwrapped the scroll and began reading.

When he was finished, the royal court was quiet, with some ministers staring at their feet. Reza sent the boy away and the doors were shut behind him, leaving an uncomfortable silence.

Ascalon had been attacked by a race of savage beats called the Charr. The same beasts Khilbron had seen in his vision! He was too stunned at the news that he couldn’t speak at first. None of them could.

Reza spoke at last. “Gentlemen, Adelbern requests aid against this brutal enemy. I think it is time we end this petty fighting and stand by our brothers! Victo, ready your troops and march to Ascalon. The human kingdoms will stand together once more!”

Several of Reza’s ministers applauded and the group dispersed.

Reza turned to Khilbron, his face beaming. “I’m certain our men will vanquish these beasts with ease.”

The words seemed empty to Khilbron, who could only hear his heart beating faster.

***

The news spread rapidly in the form of a thousand whispers – curious minds that spoke the word in dark corners of the city or in taverns out of sight.

The word was defeat.

Although King Reza had not officially been informed, Khilbron was certain this was the case – he had seen some of the soldiers return yesterday looking tired and weary instead of flushed with victory.

He could feel the undercurrent of fear that was infecting the city and he wondered if Reza could too. Or was the king so out of touch with the common folk in his marble palace?

He had tried to speak to Reza about his vision, but the King seemed uninterested. Khilbron wondered if the specter of defeat had paralyzed the once great man.

If that is the case, Orr is doomed, Khilbron thought to himself. He quickly shook the thought off, remembering his loyalty to Reza.

Victo burst into the great hall, interrupting Khilbron’s thoughts. He marched towards Reza, head high. But Khilbron could see his spirit had been broken. It was quite pathetic – and troubling.

“Report, Lord Victo,” Reza said his face unmoving.

Victo seemed unsure of himself for the moment and Khilbron thought he saw the mighty general flinch at the king’s terse order. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke at last.

“My lord, we engaged the Charr –“ Victo began, but Khilbron knew what was going to be said.

He could picture it all. The Charr army moving down from the north, slaughtering every small village in their path. He could hear the painful screams of the victims as well as the inhuman grunting of their murderers.

He could see them coming to Ascalon itself – beautiful Ascalon with its magnificent cities and fertile plains. In his mind he could picture the great kingdom’s endless fields during the summer time, and he could almost feel a cool breeze blow across his face.

Then his smile crept downward as he imagined what came next.

The Charr, while beasts, were methodical in their strategic planning. Their attacks came slowly at first, with simple raids and scouting missions. They learned the layout of Ascalon’s cities and sought the weakest points in the kingdom’s imposing defenses. Then, like a serpent, they began to squeeze the kingdom from all sides until it began to buckle.

And then came the Searing.

As Victo described it, Khilbron could imagine the people of Ascalon looking up into the sky and seeing the darkening clouds, expecting a refreshing rainstorm after a long summer. The children would skip outside their houses, all ready to splash around in puddles that never came.

But that day the sky rained fire – a torrent of burning crystals that bore down from the heavens on a murderous course. Proud cities were smashed in moments, thousands of lives extinguished at once. Khilbron shut his eyes but the images filled his head.

By the time Victo’s forces arrived it had been too late. He opened his eyes as the general finished his explanation.

“– The Charr rolled right over us,” Victo said. Khilbron looked at him and he no longer felt contempt for the burly man – only pity. He knew what Victo would say next.

“My lord, they march for Arah as we speak,” Victo said at last, the words coming haltingly, tainted with fear.

Khilbron turned to Reza at last and tried to keep his voice level. But his mouth suddenly felt dry when he spoke. The words came unexpectedly.

“If lord Victo is correct, we should abandon the city and –“

“No!” Reza cut him off. “I am not willing to surrender Arah, the City of the gods, or this kingdom to a bunch of beasts!” His face was red, his eyes cold.

He whirled on Victo and for a moment the general seemed to cower. “Prepare your men! When the Charr come, I will lead them in battle myself!”

Victo stood taller, inspired by Reza’s words. He bowed to the king and walked out.

Reza turned to Khilbron. He too was standing taller, his warrior spirit ignited. Khilbron almost wanted to fight with him, but he could not keep the vision out of his head. He knew what would happen.

“If you send the men of Orr to fight, we will all die,” Khilbron said at last.

“So that was your vision,” Reza mused. Khilbron nodded. But the king did not seem convinced. His battle spirit had been awakened and he wanted to wipe the Charr out in a single blow. He had made his decision.

“It is better to die defending my kingdom than to run and watch it burn,” Reza said at last.

“What good is a kingdom without its king? Let the Charr take Arah. We can get the Krytans to help us and then crush them with our combined armies. Don’t be blinded by concepts of honor and glory, these only lead a man to ruin!”

Reza just stared at him. Khilbron wanted to strangle him. “Don’t you see? This kingdom’s strength lies in the hearts of its people not some silent stone walls!” he said, knowing it was futile.

“I stand by my decision. Do not forget whom you speak to Vizier Khilbron,” Reza said, storming out.

Khilbron watched him go, his fists clenched.

“You foolish old man,” he whispered. He was trembling, unsure what to do. He could easily escape the city while there was still time, but he could not imagine just abandoning Reza and Orr itself.

“There is another way you know,” said a quiet voice behind him.

Khilbron whirled around, startled to see Minister Terick. For a moment he wondered if the man had been laughing at his private anguish.

Smoothing his robes, Khilbron straightened up and faced Terick. He towered over the rotund little man who looked up with small, beady eyes.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. He had never liked Terick – the man unsettled him for some reason, but Khilbron was willing to put off his feelings for the moment.

“Call upon the gods to save us! Surely a man of your knowledge could figure out how to find a way for them to intervene.”

Tercik’s eyes were pleading. Khilbron understood – he was scared as well.

“You flatter me Terick, but one does not simply contact the gods, no matter what Victo may say,” Khilbron said, noting Terick’s downcast look. Terick seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then he asked, “What about the Great Vault?”

Khilbron raised an eyebrow. Beneath Arah lay a massive vault containing the treasuries of Orr. But some parts of the vault were rumored to contain artifacts of great power.

But these were mainly stories to scare off curious peasants, not to defeat an army. Khilbron rarely visited the vault himself, as he had no reason to study musty scrolls and faded books. These were for scholars, not the Vizier of Orr. Terick’s suggestion was silly.

“I suggest you attend to your duties Terick. I have work to do,” Khilbron said, turning away.

“Very well. But my lord Khilbron, just remember this – we can no longer count on Reza to save us.” Terick scurried out and Khilbron shook his head sadly.

He knew that Terick was right. Reza was throwing his life away for nothing. While Orr had a powerful army, Khilbron sensed it would not be enough to defeat the Charr.

Then he thought about the Great Vault again. And the more he thought about it, he wondered if the secret to saving Orr really did lie beneath his feet.

***

Day after day, the Orrian army trained for the enemy’s arrival. Troops paraded in front of the palace while Reza’s generals sketched out battle plans with the king. The army’s ranks swelled as men turned out in droves to defend their country and the Holy City of Arah.

But as the days dragged on, a sense of anxiety could be felt among the troops. Many had never fought in a major battle before, so they were eager but wary. The anxiety spread like a sickness – soon the thrill of going to war had been replaced with a cold realization that some of them would not come home alive. But this was never spoken among the troops – it was a secret held close.

Khilbron watched all of this from his chambers, but only when his head wasn’t buried in a book. He had been searching Orr’s dusty archives for the contents of the ancient vault, each time coming up with nothing.

It was on the day that the Charr arrived in Orr that Khilbron found the passage he wanted in one of the brittle old manuscripts. His eyes glanced over the description of the object and he let out a gasp. Dropping the book where it was, he strode out the door, trying hard to ignore the sounds of battle horns in the distance.

***

There was little time left.

As Khilbron hurried toward the vault’s entrance on the far end of the palace, he hoped he could make it before the Charr reached the walls.

Normally the vault was guarded, but Reza had removed the soldiers and ordered them to the battlefield. Khilbron also knew how to evade any magical protections that might be in place, since he had studied the vault’s layout thoroughly.

He removed a torch from the wall and entered. He would have to descend to the bottommost chamber to reach what he wanted – the upper rooms were filled with gold and other precious things that could not save a nation.

With each step he took, Khilbron’s burden seemed to increase. What would they say if he failed, if the Charr found him in the vault muttering to the silence?

They would say he betrayed them.

Khilbron shook his head at the thought and continued down the stone staircase. The air was thin down here, and Khilbron felt cold, even though the torch burned close to his face.

He wanted to turn back. Had the Charr reached Arah yet or had Reza somehow succeeded? He had no way of knowing – no sound penetrated the vault. He was cloaked in silence.

But something urged him on. Khilbron took another step further, glancing backwards to see how far he had come. He could no longer see the entrance to the vault, but the thought no longer seemed to bother him. He stepped forward into the darkness, the torch flickering uneasily.

Khilbron wasn’t sure at what point he reached the bottom, but he took no time in relishing it. He quickly strode through the chamber, kicking up dust that had been undisturbed for ages.

He was driven by curiosity, the kind that makes even timid men adventurers. Khilbron wondered why he was no longer afraid.

As he moved forward, his torch revealed shelves carved into the walls – each filled with hundreds of faded books and rolls of parchments. The secrets of Orr lay before him, but he was not interested. He was fixated on his goal.

And then he saw it at last.

At the far end of the chamber was a shelf with only a single scroll. Khilbron’s heart beat faster as he approached it, fearing the ancient parchment would crumble in his hands, and the fate of Orr would fritter away into nothingness.

He carefully unraveled it, and Khilbron held the torch close enough where he could read the ancient words that would save Orr.

He was disappointed. The scroll was blank – its words faded by time.

Khilbron dropped to his knees and stared up into the darkness, wanting to scream at the silence. He imagined he could see through the vault, to the fields beyond where the battle raged. In his mind he saw Charr hacking their way across the fields of Orr, their eyes set on Arah, the pain of his dying comrades overpowering. Their enemy was unstoppable.

He had failed his people.

Khilbron looked at the scroll again and cursed it for leading him to this place where he would die alone in the darkness. What had been so appealing about it before? He remembered being drawn to it, as if it was calling him from the silent depths below Arah.

He looked at the scroll again and he gasped –there was writing on it now, when he could have sworn it was blank!

But Khilbron didn’t care. He took the scroll and began to recite the words. Words that spoke of ancient secrets and forgotten lands, as well as power beyond his imagination. His fingers trembled as he read the scroll, speaking quickly, becoming engulfed by the beautiful words that could not have been written by mortal hands.

He did not care that the archives had labeled the scroll as forbidden.

As he came to the end, Khilbron’s eyes were drawn to the final word on the scroll, the word that would consummate his efforts – the word that would deliver Orr from its enemies. He spoke it softly, like a secret.

Khilbron closed his eyes and waited for a sign. Was he supposed to feel empowered? No, he was only out of breath.

Then he noticed the torch had burned out, leaving him alone in the darkness.

***

When he finally emerged from the vault – how long he had been groping in the dark Khilbron wasn’t sure – he was temporarily blinded. Covering his eyes, he stumbled forward, half expecting to run into the waiting blade of a Charr warrior.

But he was met with nothing. Khilbron finally opened his eyes.

He saw the city burning.

Arah lay in ruins, its mighty walls torn down and its marble streets stained with blood. It was exactly as he had foreseen.

Yet what terrified him the most was the silence, just like in the vault. There were no sounds, just the sight of the ancient city decaying like a fresh corpse. Khilbron wondered for a moment if this was yet another vision.

But the silence haunted him, and his body shook as if to try to ward it off. Khilbron turned his head nervously, looking for something – anything – that would break the silence. Anything that would give Arah some semblance of life.

There was nothing.

He looked past the ruined walls, wondering if he could see the fields where the men of Orr lay dead. But instead he saw the ocean, lapping peacefully against the city’s ruined gates. Khilbron was puzzled. The ocean was nowhere near Arah itself; it lay at the boundary of Orr –

And then he understood that this was no vision. The Charr could not make the land sink into the sea; no mortal army had that power. No, the beasts probably had not even set foot into the sacred city.

Khilbron had destroyed them. But he had destroyed Orr as well – all of Orr.

He screamed in agony, but the voice that he heard was not his own. It seemed twisted and painful, the last gasp of a man whose life was being choked away.

He looked at his hands – they were scorched and blackened, his fingers like bony knives that curled downward menacingly.

Khilbron ran across Arah, trying hard not to look down at his hands. He came across a piece of glass among the ruins and he saw his face in the reflection. A creature of nightmares stared back at him with sunken yellow eyes. It smiled.

Khilbron screamed again, trembling at that horrific voice, a voice with all humanity drained from it.

Then he saw something in the distance, slowly moving towards him. They came by the hundreds, hulks of rotting, mutilated flesh, driven by restless souls. Some were nothing more than bones, still wearing the armor they had on when Khilbron had uttered the words that had damned them all. They were the people of Orr.

They surrounded him, their hands reaching for his heart, which no longer beat.

And in that moment of terror, he realized that Arah was no longer silent. It chanted his name.

Khilbron.

Brother Doug · Dec 19, 2006, 08:32 PM // 20:32

Wow. That was quite an impressive piece of work. Chilling ending. Very good.

alarico511 · Dec 20, 2006, 01:56 AM // 01:56

I love it email to anet or something tell it to Gray(i like to call her that) tell teh world

Crushedskulls11 · Dec 20, 2006, 02:51 AM // 02:51

Nice! Very impresive there - had me hooked

very good job!

Leijah · Dec 22, 2006, 12:00 AM // 00:00

Excellent!

Queeny Esther · Dec 22, 2006, 05:04 AM // 05:04

I love it

This story deserves to be read by all of GW

Tioshi · Jan 15, 2007, 07:17 PM // 19:17

they coulp put an NPC saying the complete story....next game maybe

very nice JOB!!!ii loveds it

NPC's name:Aklix...

Dialogue

"Oh aren't u the heros of Tyria well i guess u sure met Vizier Khilbron during your journey my Mother told me a Story of him she told me that noone knew about it wanna hear?"

DarkBeing · Jan 15, 2007, 08:32 PM // 20:32

Thanks everyone for your comments! I actually have some "deleted scenes" for this story, basically stuff that I cut/earlier versions of some parts. If anyone's interested I'll post them here.

gameshoes3003 · Jan 15, 2007, 11:27 PM // 23:27

o0o0o0o0o0oo0oo pretty stuffings!

DarkBeing · Jan 17, 2007, 07:57 PM // 19:57

Some "deleted scenes" and explanations.

"ALTERNATE" BEGINNING - An earlier version of the story's introduction. I changed it because I felt it was becoming too epic in scope and didn't really focus on Khilbron himself.

***

Dawn’s first light woke the sleepy watchman from his reverie. Rubbing his eyes he quickly checked to see if anyone had noticed that he had shirked his duties. Seeing n one, the guard resumed his post.

And what a post he had, guarding the eastern wall of Arah, capital of the Orrian Empire. From his vantage point the guard looked out at the great cities beyond – on a clear day he could see the slopes of the great Shiverpeaks.

But the view was even more magnificent when he turned back on Arah itself. The city, supposedly built by the gods before they left the world was the largest on the continent, and by far the most breathtaking. Here, buildings were made from steel instead of wood, and glass spires towered over the landscape, reflecting the sun into a myriad of colors at certain points of the day. In the streets below, crowds milled about at shops and temples, all knowing that they were citizens of the mightiest Empire of Tyria.

But unlike years past, the watchman could tell that there was an air of discontent among the people. There was a growing consensus that the local guilds had more power than King Reza and his advisors. The guilds managed many aspects of life in Orr, perhaps too much. This had been tolerated – until the wars came.

For decades, Orrian guilds had battled rivals from Ascalon and Kyrta, with little success. But as the years went on with no progress, there were growing cries to the king to halt the guilds once and for al. But Reza could do nothing – many of his generals were in powerful guilds – and so the wars continued. Only recently had there been any progress – a race of beasts from the North called the Charr threatened the human kingdoms, so the fighting had been halted for the moment to deal with the invaders.

The watchman suddenly noticed a glint of light on the horizon. As he watched, the light grew nearer, and he recognized it as a signal torch carried by a messenger on horseback. The watchman shouted down to his comrades to open the gates, and the massive steel doors slowly glided back.

The messenger reached the gate in minutes and dismounted, while the watchman and several guards approached him.

“Please, I must speak with King Reza immediately!” the man demanded. He was ver thin and breathing heavily. The watchman noted bags under his eyes.

“No need to rush stranger. It looks like you’ve had a long journey. I’ll send someone to take your things and you can rest for a bit.”

“There’s no time! I’ve come from Ascalon. Something terrible has happened.”

--

The watchman felt pale as the messenger described his story. At the end, he turned abruptly to another guard.

“Take this man to the king at once. We need to double the number of men on the gates.”

As they turned away, the watchman felt a shiver crawl up his back as he remembered the messenger’s story.

The unthinkable was about to happen. War was coming to Arah.

--

The group of men gathered in King Reza’s throne room were silent. All stared at the young herald from Ascalon.

Victo, a proud man with dark eyes and the champion of Orr, spoke.

“If what you say is true, then Ascalon has been destroyed.”

“Yes my lord, the Charr-“ the herald stammered.

“I think we’ve heard enough about the Charr for one day,” King Reza said, and the boy was escorted out of the chamber. The king leaned back in his chair and sighed, staring at his silent advisors.

Victo approached the king.

“My lord, we’ve underestimated the Charr. If the lad says that they march for Orr next, we must be prepared to defend ourselves.”

“I do not fear these beasts!” Reza raised his voice and Victo was silenced. “But I will not let more Orrians die – the people have had enough of war.”

“Then you underestimate the people my king,” another voice broke in. He was Khilbron, a mage skilled in the matters of the arcane. “We must convince them that the Charr are the greatest threat to Arah, the city created by the gods so long ago. They will rise up to defend Arah – no beast must defile its golden pathways!”

He turned to Victo. “We must attack the Charr before they reach Arah. Ascalon hid behinds its defenses and the Charr destroyed them with their magic. We however have time to mobilize and –“

“There will be no mobilization,” Reza cut in.

Khilbron’s face darkened slightly.

“We will discuss this in the morning,” Reza said, standing up. The other advisors followed his lead and walked out, leaving Khilbron and Victo alone.

Khilbron studied Orr’s Champion. The man was well-built, and had earned his title after many battles, some which left their mark – a jagged scar cut across Victo’s jaw, marring his otherwise sculpted countenance.

Khilbron on the other hand was Victo’s opposite. He was tall and slender, with beady eyes that flicked about constantly. He always dressed in simple Orrian robes that clung to his lithe body like spider webs. He smiled at Victo and the warrior grunted.

“It seems we finally agree on something,” Victo remarked. “But the king is foolish.”

“The king is weary. Suppose the Charr turn towards Kryta instead? Or they may just decide to occupy Ascalon. Orr may be perfectly safe,” Khilbron reasoned.

“But we both know this is not the case!” Victo fumed. “Without Reza’s blessing, we can’t defend Arah.”

“Oh, but we can,” Khilbron said, a smile forming at his lips.

Victo raised a bushy eyebrow.

“You’re a master tactician. If you were to lead an invasion force, what would be your first move?”

“Send an expedition to scout the area,” Victo said immediately. Then he realized what Khilbron was planning.

“Reza will be furious.”

“Better his wrath than Arah’s destruction. Gather your men, I will bring several colleagues of mine, mages who are skilled in the arcane. Tonight we will show the Charr the strength of Orr!”

--

ENGAGING THE CHARR- Khilbron and Victo lead a small group of men against a Charr scouting party.

**

The Charr warrior finished its meal and threw the remains upon the fire. The flames crackled – a sign the gods were pleased. It slowly attached its armor and then picked up a large axe nearby. It was time to patrol. Signally a fellow Charr, the two beasts stalked away from the fire.

They wandered for a few minutes, until one of them picked up the scent of men. Their nostrils flared as they began to sniff out their prey.

They found the man lying on the ground, looking weak and helpless. One of the beasts growled with pleasure – the gods would be pleased with another sacrifice. The warrior removed his axe and prepared the killing blow.

Suddenly, the man rolled away and removed a concealed bow. Aiming up at the warrior on the right, he loosed an arrow that lodged in the Charr’s arm. Angered, the beast lunged forward. The ranger smiled as the Charr stepped on a loose patch of earth. It sank under the Charr’s weight, releasing a large plume of dust into its eyes.

The Charr, though blinded, could still smell its prey and began moving towards the ranger while its companion circled around back.

At this point, the ranger removed a piece of flint from his cloak and struck it against an arrow, which burst into flame. Spinning quickly, he fired the burning arrow at the blinded Charr. Againt he arrow hit the Charr’s arm, but this time the beast’s fur began to burn away.

The ranger jumped away as the second Charr swung its axe. Reaching into his quiver the ranger prepared to fire again, and then realized he was out of arrows. He backed away slowly, as the Charr approached. Suddenly his foot caught a small rock and the ranger tripped. Looking up he saw the beast standing over him, its teeth bared.

There was a loud yell as Victo emerged from hiding, and leapt onto the Charr’s back. The beast screamed as Victo ripped the fur from its hide. It flailed about, trying to knock him off with its large paws. But Victo remained steady, finaly unleashing his sword and smashing it down into the Charr’s shoulder blade. The beast faltered and slowly began to buckle.

“Does that hurt beast? Good,” Victo whispered to it as he stabbed his blade deep into the Charr’s back. It collapsed into the dust.

Victo jumped off the dead Charr and looked over to where Khilron and the others were hiding.

“That will be the fate of every Charr that tries to enter Orr!” he said loudly.

Khilbron gestured with his staff and Victo turned around. The rest of the Charr had gone looking for their comrades and found them, along with their human attackers. The ambush had been reversed!

Khilbron froze as the Charr advanced on Vito – the man would be torn to pieces! Forgetting his fear for a moment, Khilbron ran over to the champion and planted his staff in the ground. The each shook furiously, and some of the advancing Charr were flung backwards by the blast. But serveral were able to avoid the attack and kept coming.

--

CATACLYSM- An actual description of Orr's destruction from Reza's point of view. Cut because I thought it would actually be more dramatic to not show what happened.

**

The Charr army had pushed through the front lines. Reza watched as whole regiments were torn apart by the vicious beasts which fought as if possessed.

Slowly, Orr’s forces were being pushed back to the gates of Arah.

It occurred to Reza that Khilbron had been right. But there was no turning back.

Suddenly the ground began to shake – slowly at first then growing stronger every minute.

It was unlike any earthquake Reza had ever felt. Massive fissures in the ground opened up, swallowing man and Charr alike. He could hear the earth groaning as it was split apart. The monstrous cracks in the earth widened, carving up the once beautiful fields that lay at the entrance to Arah.

The Charr army began to retreat, but they were swallowed up, thrown into the abyss.

The quaking stopped. The air was still.

Reza looked back towards Arah, tears in his eyes. Somehow he knew that Khilbrin was responsible. He had saved Orr!

And then the world erupted into flame.

Pillars of molten rock spouted from the ground, incinerating everything in range. The sky turned black and Reza looked back on Arah – but the great city was falling too. It was the last thing he ever saw.

And as the fissures widened even further and the flaming pillars consumed Reza, Orr began sinking into the ocean, taking its people and their dreams, to the Underworld.

Such was the Cataclysm.