Young Writers Society

“Why must you continue to defend?” A short humanoid looking creature asks wielding a dagger. “You foolish Dail’s, we goblins and devotes to the Porlhob Church have slayed enough of your men. Just surrender and become a vassal under the Chox Theocracy.”

“This offer shall never stand. The Dail’s have lived as an independent nation for many a years and that shall continue!” a Dailian commander shouts. “We are a culture of warriors surrendering is something we shall never do!” An emblem is raised by a flagbearer with a design of a golden ship with a blood red background. “Loststaria shall never be taken! Forward charge, do not relent!”

“Soldiers of Chox prepare for battle!” the Chox commander yells.

“Why did our commander say we were devoted to the Prolhob Church? Aren’t many of the soldiers in our army Pyreazism followers?” a soldier of the Chox army asks.

“He’s a member of the Prolhob Church and you know how they are,” another soldier responds.

As the armies clash head on the Chox army seems to be being pushed back.

“Loyal elves of Erinocrin, it is time to take the land that rightfully belongs to us,” an elvish commander shouts with his weapon thrusted towards the sky. “Our brothers are on the other side of the inferior Anor Humans! We shall be reunited with our Dark Elf brothers!” the commander points his weapon forward signaling to charge, and the battle begins.

“The islands of Aytra have never seen peace,'' a hooded figure says, looking down at a group of 3 islands. “With all these different species and faiths I doubt it ever will. Two different types of humans born of different heritages. The Anors born from a god who dedicated his life to the peace and prosperity of his own. The Dail’s who were born of a god who dedicated his life to prosperity through strength. These races are disallowed to breed and create a subspecies born of Dail and Anor blood.”

“You Dail’s do not belong within the borders of Grireholia,” an Anor says, beating a Dail into a corner. “Return to where you belong, leave Grireholia and return to Loststaria or Mightpeakia. That’s where you damn Dails belong.”

“At least the Dails remain loyal to where they come from. You damn Anors haven’t remained loyal to where you came from. You are more aggressive then you should be, you bastards. You come from the Anor branch that is one of peace and prosperity!” the Dail shouts.

“If you are so loyal then come on and attack me! Prove you Dails are loyal!” the Anor yells angrily.

With one clean punch to the cheek the Anor is on the ground completely knocked out. The Dail spits onto the Anor. “If you want me to fight I shall but at least be a threat.”

“Sadly the Dails and the Anors don’t get along perfectly,” the hooded figure speaks once more, still looking down at the islands. “The Dails have believed staying loyal to their origin as a society built on strength. They split into two states, those being Loststaria, and Mightpeakian. Loststaria is of the commonwealth government, attempting to give as much power to its citizens as possible. The others formed Mightpeakian and became a Theocracy following The Word Grewel, which is the belief that the mighty Grewel was who made the Dails. Whilst the Anors did not stay loyal to their origin the two states that are Anor dominated have split into two different Governments, while still being similar to each other. The Anors of Grireholia became a militarist government focusing on numbers and defending their homes. The Anors of Boulhalia became an expansionist society attempting to take any land they can for themselves. Boulhalia managed to push the elves back and cut them off from their dark elf brothers.”

The second heir to the throne of Fahas empire stands waiting for the return of his father. His father wished to visit his elf brothers not knowing of their defeat against the Anors. By the time they reached the border of Fahas and the now Boulhalia, he and his guards could see smoke rising in the distance. While his guards were cautious the king told them that it was ok and most likely a mere ritual being performed.

“Remember the king's orders,” a cloaked Anor soldier says. He wields a knife in his hand with a bow strapped around his back.

“Of course I do. I ain’t gonna forget it,” a second Anor in a similar cloak says, his voice sounding offended. “We assassinate the king of Fahas and kill any guards.”

“There he is. Why is he walking in so casually?” the first Anor questions. “Are the people of Fahas unaware that this place is now under Boulhalia control?”

“Don’t damn question it. We have our orders and we shall follow them. This just makes it easier,” the second Anor says, pulling his dagger out. “Take out his guards and I’ll go in for a kill on the king.”

As the king continues to walk without question of the smoke an arrow pierces one of his guard’s heads killing him in the instant. “It’s an ambush!” one of the guards says. “Protect the king.” Another guard falls dead.

“Nice job. I’ll move on the king keep it up,” the second Anor says, jumping to another tree getting closer to the king.

“Someone’s advancing towards us!” one of the guards shouts before an arrow pierces his head.

The king of Fahas draws his blade not using it in a long while. “Who the hell are you? Are you men of Erinocrin? We have no need to fight! I am the king of Fahas! I’ve come to visit your king!”

“We ain’t no elves. We are the Anors!” the second Anor says emerging from a bush wielding his dagger. “The weak elves of Erinocrin have been pushed back!”

“You dare call our brothers weak!” one of the guards yells getting in front of the king and blocking his attempt on his life. “King fall back to Fahas borders! There are bound to be soldiers there who will keep you safe!”

“Why should I do that!? I refuse to watch people die attempting to protect me!” the king shouts, swinging his blade wildly.

The king of Fahas has not used a weapon for a long while. His swings are wild and random. “So the warrior-king is gone huh?” the second Anor says, grabbing the head of the guard and throwing him aside. “Where has he gone? Where has the king who single handedly won the battle of Undkarlorcaka to save his men's lives?” An arrow pierces the guard's head as he tries to stand up.

“You bring shame to the Anors,” the king says as he runs to his fallen guard. “That was when my empire was fighting you greedy bastards so you wouldn’t take our land!” the king yells. He runs towards the Anor preparing to swing.

“Heh,” the Anor laughs, switching his grip of his blade to a reverse grip. “You should know, anger never wins you a fight.” Within a second the Anor is behind the king and jabs his dagger into the king's throat. Let the Fahas empire split in two.

“The elves once united under the same flag,” the hooded man says pointing at the land of the elves. “They eventually decided after much internal fighting between elves and dark elves that staying united would never be helpful. They split into the Fahas empire and the Kingdom of Erinocrin. Fahas was the empire of the dark elves. Erinocrin the kingdom of the elves. The leaders of the two states continued to communicate perfectly until they were split by the Anors of Boulhalia and the death of the king of Fahas. The dark elves made a special succession rule where if a king dies in battle or through an assassination the land shall be split between the king's children.”

“Father has died!?” the heir to the throne exclaims. “How could this happen?”

“How has our father died!?” the second heir says fearfully.

“It was an assassination. The Anor from Boulhalia have taken the land of our elf brothers and waited for the king to visit them,” the guard says, panicking.

“How do you know of the king's death!?” the heir says unsheathing his blade.

“My captain had ordered for me to stick behind in case something were to happen,” the guard explains. “We saw smoke and the king thought nothing of it. Our captain ordered for me to stay behind in case it was not just nothing. I am the only survivor.”

“So he really is dead,” the second heir says.

“If father is dead then it seems we must split the empire of Fahas between one another brother,” the first heir says, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder. “I shall take the end with the Fahas capital you shall have the other. The border shall be where the land thins.”

“What if father is alive though brother?” the second heir says attempting to hope for the best.

“Brother you heard the brave soldier’s report,” the heir says. “He is dead, I'm sorry.”

“Can we retrieve his body at least?” the second heir says attempting to at least honor traditions.

“We have no way of honoring our tradition's second prince. We don’t know how much land they have control of. Retrieving the body would be too risky,” the soldier says.

“We must prepare to inform the people of Fahas of this tragedy,” the heir says.

“Two different princes given half of the largest empire within the Aytra islands,” the cloaked figure says. “One fearful and honorable of traditions. The other being vengeful and prepared to see justice for his fathers death. The heir to the throne received the land east of the Fahas thin, the second heir receiving the land west of the Fahas thin. A few years after the divide of Fahas and the transformation from the Fahas empire to kingdom and the creation of the kingdom of Bovewick. The second heir became the leader of Bovewick as the first became the leader of Fahas.”

“My liege!” A man yells running into the royal court of Bovewick. “The Dails within my province have threatened an uprising!”

“We have no need to fight them,” the king says, stepping down from the throne. “I wish to be taken to these Dails so I may speak with them myself.”

“But my liege, we can’t allow them freedom. The Dails are the ones who killed your father!” the duke says.

Within seconds the king has a blade at the duke's throat. “The Anors were the assassins not the Dails. Do not speak bad about them.”

“The humans are lesser than us!” the duke yells. “Honor your father and kill the Dails and the Anors!” His head falls to the ground.

“Take me to his province.”

As they arrive pillars of smoke can be seen. The rioting Dails have burnt the duke's castle down. Nothing is left besides ash and the occasional pieces of stone and armor. The rioting Dails notice the approach of the king and look ready for battle. The leader of the riots steps forward looking to be a wartorn veteran of the Dails. “What business does the king of the false kingdom of Bovewick want with us!”

“You Dails wish for freedom from rulers who oppress you, am I correct?” the king says, signaling his knights to stay behind as he approaches him, allowing only his trusted personal knight to follow him. “We wish to hear what the Dails have to say.”

“We wish for all Dails within Bovewick to be free and under Dail rule and not under dark elf rule,” the Dail leader says. “A new Dail ruled kingdom shall be formed.”

“If we agree to this can we both agree to not fight wars against one another for say 5 years?” the king says, reaching his hand out.

“Are you truly willing to give us freedom?” the leader asks shocked that the king is not attempting to duel him at minimum.

“Yes my good sir, we shall give you all provinces that are made up of mainly the Dails. My people have been led to believe that the Dails killed my father but I know it was the Anors,” the king says, attempting to soothe any worries the Dails may have of them attacking them. “I shall make sure that none of my vassals attack you.”

“Why does a dark elf put trust in us Dails?” the leader questions. “We are human just as the Anors are. Does that not give you reason enough to fight us here?”

“Contrary to what my people say, the Dails and the Anors are far from the same. It was the Anor who ambushed and killed my father. Seeking vengeance by killing the Dails instead of the Anors would be unjust,” the king says drawing his weapon and dropping it to his side. “I have no intentions of fighting you. The Dails shall be given freedom.”

“I thank you king of Bovewick. Your kindness today shall not be forgotten by the tribes of Limegrasp. We Dails truly do believe that a tribal Dail society is best for us,” the leader bows to the king thanking him more. “Send the messengers to the rest of the Dails! We Dails of the Limegrasp tribes shall have our freedom from now and forever!” The shouts of the soldiers can be heard loud and strong.

“The Limegrasp tribes became a group of Dails embracing a tribal and territorial society. Within Limegrasp there were many different tribes, they fought for land, revenge whatever the reason the tribes waged war against one another. The tribe that had agreed to never to attack and being the one to unite the tribes in times of great conflict such as a war was the tribe of Limegrasp itself. Many of the Dails within the Limegrasp tribes say that this approach makes them strong and makes their land untouchable and untakeable by foreign empires.” the hooded figure says as he begins to turn around. He walks for a bit until stopping and looking down towards a long island. “Mightpeakian is the last state of the Aytra islands. Mightpeakian is ruled by the Dails. Many small islands exist in between the two major islands, Mightpeakian rules over most of those islands. “They are a people who hold their belief dear to them, going so far as to make their government a Theocracy. Thus the ruler of Mightpeakian is chosen by their divine.”

“People of Mightpeakian!” a man in religious clothing shouts. “Recently there have been reports to the church of heresy. I ask now that any of these heretics if they are with us here and now step forward and accept their punishment.” The crowd begins to burst out in whispers. “I have been chosen by the true God of the Dails. All those who stray from our truest of faiths shall be punished by the blade of God.”

Six men step forward, only one chooses to speak. “May the true divine smite you for oppressing him and trying to hide him,” one of the men says before taking his own life. Shortly after the other 5 say the same statement as the first before taking their lives as well.

“Give these six a proper burial. Soldiers of Mightpeakian seek out the rest of these heretics. To the rest of the Mightpeakian follow in the footsteps of the heretics and you shall not be able to hide yourself from God’s blade for long.”

A few weeks have passed since the leaders first acknowledgement of there being heretics within their land. One can assume this would happen often as their are about 5 different major religions within Mightpeakian, yet in reality it really doesn't happen all that often. Whilst the beliefs of the Word of Grewel is the main religion, the head of Mightpeakian has learned to accept and protect a few other religions. The only one that Grewel followers are devoted to protecting and understanding is the Pearld Faith, which was born from the Word of Grewel.

“Now you my friend are not born with heritage of any of these nations,” the hooded figure says now looking directly at someone. “You are what one would call an enigma. You show signs of being of elvish descent both dark and non-dark elves, along with showing similarities to the goblins morales of honor. You seem to be a warrior dedicated to the past just as the Dails, yet you also seem to be someone of change similar to the Anors,” he walks up to the person running his hand along their face and looking closely at their body. They also feel as if he is seeing into their soul. “What is your name?”