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The Last Order Of The Atalan

THE FORSAKEN (Prelude)

(This series takes place 400 years before the coming of Mondain or British....a time when humans and elves are still cousins uncertain. It gives the history of of elf that was neither Dark, nor High, nor Wood....but pure. There are two of these beings left in Sosaria, and this saga...while lengthy, gives a great deal of insight on the vendetta inherant to the race known as the Atalan.)

THE LAST ORDER OF THE ATALAN

The moon broke the clouds over the castle courtyard as Thi'Axor's
blood-clouded vision began to subside under the moon's light. His
consciousness came to him slowly as his concussed vision slowly sharpened.
He had lost a lot of blood, that was certain. He saw a rib protruding
through his studded armor, but was absent of pain...definitely not a good
sign. Dozens of Atalan bodies littered his once-proud Grounds of Assembly.

He glanced to his left and saw the body of Herrin Th'ramax. His armored
head had been cleaved in half by a hurled axe. Thi'Axor exhaled painfully. Thi'Axor
had ruled his province for several hundred years and Herrin was his subject,
and there was bad history between the two. Thi'Axor did not consider his
previous actions of long ago against Herrin to be cruel or malicious.
Unpaid debts and Atalans do not share the same sentence.

But Thi'Axor had not brought this violent end to Herrins here-life. Herrin
had grudgingly taken up arms with his cruel lord against this new threat to
his land. The creature that had struck down Herrin, killed most of
Thi'Axors guards and pages was an abjuration of Atalan culture and history.
It had killed women and children, human and Atalan alike.

Atalans, offshoots of the drow blood of elves, were fast and slender. Thier
thresholds for pain were unmatched, and their precognitive sense of
impending danger gave them a distinct advantage in battle. This unseen
attacker, who now stood over Thi'Axors trembling form while definitely of
Atalan blood, was somehow different. Brooding and muscular, he leered down
at Thi'Axor and raised an eyebrow and sword simultaneously. Thi'Axor's last
simplistic thought in the here-life was one of pure astonishment....

This Atalan was huge.....

(to be continued)

Be on the look out for these two! They are known as Tenebrous and Asimov, they are armed and extremely dangerous to all humankind!

Art totally stolen from the drow art gallery!

THE FORSAKEN (Book 1, Part 2)

THE SONS OF TH'RAMAX

In a small province of Tron'Zir, the Atalan Herrin Th'Ramax had become the
father of twin sons named Vither and Gorinth. As they grew in their
formative years the twins, not identical, became to show their distinct
differences. Vither was the alpha, for certain. His studies were superb
and his physical attributes were equally impressive. He was fast and
incredibly strong for his small size. Despite this, Vither was not terribly
popular amongst his peers as his budding ego drew short shrift with the few
friends he had.

Gorinth was rather the opposite. He was slow, clumsy and always wore the
gaping face of a landed fish. He was picked on for his gullibility and slow
wit, but he was actually the more popular of the two sons because of his
gentle nature. The most comical aspect of Gorith's being was his size. A
chubby Atalan was as common as a blind fencer. Regardless, Vither kept
close watch of his brother and those who would seek to exploit his handicap
paid dearly.

Thier father, Herrin was the Cheif Navigator and Mapmaker for duke of this
province, another Atalan by the nam of Thi'Axor. Thi'Axor, who had won his
throne under "questionable circumstances" hated Herrin. The only thing he
hated more was he reliance upon the man for his knowledge. Herrin was the
last of the old Navigators. Without him, his fleet was blind and his armies
maps were error-ridden. Herrin was wise and Thi'Axor was not. His maps
were all that kept the Atalan and his dullard twins alive.

In addition to his younger sons, Herrin had an older daughter name Xeya.
She was was blessed with a beauty not commonly found in the females of the
Atalan race. While Atalan females had the same long lifespan (well into
1,500 years) as their male counterparts, they did not age as well. In fact,
most Atalan women were known to begin vainly shielding their faces after
their 400th year. Xeya was well into her 5th century and still possessed
her beauty. A beauty coveted by many and treasured by her father.

(To be continued)

COINCEDENTAL COVENANTS

The sunset saw the two Atalan boys, both of whom shunned the sunlight, run out to entertain one another. After several hours, Vither clung to the branch of the tree staring down at his gaping, dull-eyed brother, Gorinth. Dropping acorns on his head and watching the astonished response each time was beginning to bore him. Gorinth sometimes played it up though, doing so to keep his brother from getting totally bored and storming off and leaving him behind.

"Why cun I be smart like you, Vith?" wheezed Gorith. Vither loved his brother dearly, but his labored breathing got on his nerves. "Because, I was cursed with intellect and you were cursed with....girth." This clearly confused Gorinth...even more so than the concept of falling rain. Vither tried to explain:

"Gor, people will always bother me with their problems, looking for help with their solutions. That is my pain to bear. Yours, well...with proper discipline can be corrected." A steady line of drool ran from Gorinth, signifying his rigid attention to Vither.

"But cun you make me smarter...cuz, uhmmm...i dont need to be like you-smart...juss, uhmm good enough for me to be ok alone?" Vither hated this question. He knew his brothers condition was one of birth, not of laziness to learning. Nevertheless, he could not put this reality on his brothers reduced mind. When he is older, perhaps.

"I am waiting for the right time...for we need a lot of it, Gorinth...for I would need a millennia to train you properly!" Gorinth brightened. "Ok..so when..I find a la..uhmm la-lennia you can teach me right?" Vither looked down and sighed. "Yes Gorinth...when you find a spare millennia around...I will teach you all I know."

III. COINCEDENTAL COVENANTS

The sunset saw the two Atalan boys, both of whom shunned the sunlight, run
out to entertain one another. After several hours, Vither clung to the
branch of the tree staring down at his gaping, dull-eyed brother, Gorinth.
Dropping acorns on his head and watching the astonished response each time
was beginning to bore him. Gorinth sometimes played it up though, doing so
to keep his brother from getting totally bored and storming off and leaving
him behind.

"Why cun I be smart like you, Vith?" wheezed Gorith. Vither loved his
brother dearly, but his labored breathing got on his nerves. "Because, I
was cursed with intellect and you were cursed with....girth." This clearly
confused Gorinth...even more so than the concept of falling rain. Vither
tried to explain:

"Gor, people will always bother me with thier problems, looking for help
with thier solutions. That is my pain to bear. Yours, well...with proper
discipline can be corrected." A steady line of drool ran from Gorinth,
signifying his rigid attention to Vither.

"But cun you make me smarter...cuz, uhmmm...i dont need to be like
you-smart...juss, uhmm good enough for me to be ok alone?" Vither hated
this question. He knew his brothers condition was one of birth, not of
laziness to learning. Nevertheless, he could not put this reality on his
brothers reduced mind. When he is older, perhaps.

"I am waiting for the right time...for we need a lot of it, Gorinth...for I
would need a millennia to train you properly!" Gorinth brightened. "Ok..so
when..I find a la..uhmm la-lennia you can teach me right?" Vither looked
down and sighed. "Yes Gorinth...when you find a spare millennia around...I
will teach you all I know."

IV. VEHEMENT DENIAL

"Damn you Th'Ramax! Come out here this instant or I shall raze this
plantation to the ground!"

Herrin rose from his bed sleepily. That voice could wake the dead. But
what in the name of the stars could bring the duke out this far in the
middle of the night. Normally he would call an audience in his chambers if
he wanted Herrin as a whipping boy. "TH'RAAAMAX!!! We have lost the
Vehement! For this you shall DEARLY PAY!"

Now Herrin was hurriedly dressing. The Vehement was the flagship of the
Thi'Axors fleet. He had charted a map for it's helmsman weeks before for a
rigorous journey. He knew there would be risks....

"What has happened?" asked Herrin, standing on his lawn as his three
children staggered out of the house behind their father. "Imbecile! Your
charts were in error, as always! The Vehement ran aground near the shores
of Skara Brae...hitting shoals you FAILED to chart! This mission was
crucial to the trade talks we have placed with the humans. Zeduin was
nearly killed."

Herrin glanced over at the human archmage, Zeduin. He was Thi'Axors most
trusted advisor and liaison to the humans. "My maps were not in error,
m'lord. The timing of this voyage was. I warned of the shifting currents
this time of year...."

"SILENCE! I'd have had better luck with your idiot son as my chartsman! I
am thankfull Zeduin was able to get back to me. His word of your foiled
maps will save countless legions from more of your mistakes. You are
dismissed from your post Herrin. Zeduin shall succeed you."

Herrin inwardly sighed. It was a great disgrace to be dismissed from his
post, but to no longer be under the thumb of the duke offset the pain.
"Your word is rule, m'lord." said Herrin stoically. He turned on his heel
and ushered his children into the house. Thi'Axor grinned.

"We're not finished here, Th'Ramax," the duke said evenly. "There is a
question of debt owed. You have cost me my capital ship, and collateral on
your part is....shall we say, lacking." Herrin knew this meant servitude in
the mines. Herrin turned and evened his gazed with the duke...who was
eyeing Xeya devilishly.

"Don't even consider it, my lord. I was not at fault here. You INSISTED
upon this cruise despite my warnings to the contrary! I cannot be held
solely accountable, and my child shall not either!"

Zeduin whispered into his masters ear. Thi'Axors grin widened more still.
"Very well, Herrin. I offer you a choice. You can either give me your
daughter this eve, just for the night. Or...you can surrender your dullard
Atalan son to Zeduin for his human...studies."

"FATHER NO!" Vither protested. "He'll be tortured...dissected!" Herrin
glanced at Xeya and he glanced as Gorinth. He was an Atalan and as
Navigator, he was responsible for the security of the fleet at sea. This
horrid man had placed debt, and all Atalan debts must be paid without
exception. Xeya trembled with fear and made no sound. Gorinth, however had
already walked over to the Archmage and was fascinated by the colorful robes
he wore. He smiled at the mage with oblivious delight as he caressed the
smooth robe's fibers. Zeduin cast down a sheepish grin.

"Father you cannot even CONSIDER this. I understand the price of debt, but
you cannot weigh his life over her virtue!" Herrins eyes watered. He
prayed for lightning from the heavens to remove him from the here-life. He
cast another glare at his daughter. She was self absorbed in her own fear.
Vither doubted a concern for his brother even crossed her mind. She had
written him off countless times as the family embarrassment who would drag
down the name.

"Father...look at me..." whispered Vither.

"Shut up! Will you shut up??? The boy is feebleminded. Look at him! Death
may be a release for him! But that foul man will lay no hands on your
sister! Gorinth is lost to us anyway. Would you want his existence,
Vither? WOULD YOU???"

Vither was completely taken aback by his fathers tirade. Never before had
Vither been at a loss for words, but he could find none to hurl at this man
he once called father. "Take the boy you bastard! And my the rest of your
fleet be damned as well! Human...I beg you, do no harm to my son."

The Atalan stabbed fruitlessly at a human trait of compassion, a trait that
was totally lost on Zeduin. "You're son will hold a place of honor in human
sciences, Herrin. Be proud of such." Thi'Axor, while disappointed in not
taking Xeya this night, relished in Herrin's anguish. The female would be
going nowhere soon, and he was patient.

THE FORSAKEN (Prelude)

In Death, Trancendence

Tenebrous stood on the roof of the Atalan Fortress as the members of Mondain vanished through their gate. Asimov and Adaron began making their way up the steps of the tower. Tenebrous reflected back on the past several hours.

It had been a busy day, indeed.

In two separate events the Atalan had struck at the very heart of Mondain...in his undefended Temple. Tenebrous and Asimov delivered deadly messages to the Mondainites Darby and Renran'ar Viaxus. The time of shadow approached. Within moments Duran and his unholy warriors came and struck down the Atalan insurgents.

Later in the day, the Atalan would return to find the Temple deserted a second time. Asimov laughed and he , Adaron and Tenebrous mockingly sat upon the thrones of the Temple, with Asimov lighting fires to the Black Altar. All knew no harm would come to the Skulls....but the message had been delivered.

Within the hour, Trullivan arrived before Tenebrous at the Atalan fortress with the intent of avenging his Temple. Tenebrous merely waved the human off. "Trullivan, you believe victory lies in your numbers and the steel of your spear...but we have hurt you far more than you can ever hurt us this day!"

Trullivan, enraged, called in the Temple and the three Atalan were ridden into the grass by the horde of Mondainites.

Tenebrous turned and looked at Asimov. "Today has gone as planned, has it not Jerrick?" Asimov looked over the parapet and rubbed a sore shoulder. "Yes it has. I must say, the Temple never ceases to disappoint me."

Adaron rose. "What now, my lords?" Tenebrous rose from the stone throne and moved beside Asimov and looked at the bloodstained grass below. "The Mondainites are no longer a concern. They will bask in their victory and will press us no further. We stabbed the Mondainites in the heart with our actions today, and they will not risk further disgrace to theit holy Keep in angering us."

Adaron siged. "Tis well enough. The Mondainites are warriors of cunning and ability." Tenebrous looked at Asimov again and smiled. The Heru Tel'Atalan, Asimov glanced at Adaron and grinned. "Yes brother, they do possess ability....

....predictability."

Before the Highland Guard

Jakob and his army amassed at the Fortress of the Highland Guard prior to his departure for the meeting of the High Council in Britain.

The dark warrior, TassadaR strode into the antechamber and begged pardon for his intrusion on Jakobs council. He warned of a new evils across the land. Furthermore, he told of his defeat at the hands of the Atalan "god-turned-mortal", Tenebrous.

Within moments, I received the words in my mind from TassadaR...he requested that I, Scribe Sidious come and substantiate his claims. I to, begged pardon for the intrusion. Moreso, that my news was of such somber tones. I addressed the honorable Covenant as a man I hold in high respects, but also as a man I foresee as a great leader triumphant in the coming tides of time.

"The Temple is exposed and the window of opportunity is small. My Visions show a great resurgence of good rising to meet the tides of evil. And this must be addressed soon...for darker evils loom beyond the horizons. Tormented and souless beasts, and an ancient race with a sheer hatred for man. It is uncertain if their paths lie together or apart against you Jakob, but one can ill afford an battle on three fronts."

Jakob paid me his full attention, and I closed again, with feelings about Lore Denin and his Crusdade. "Lore is a man I hold dear and in high regard, but a rule under his hand shows me Visions of evil being placated with talk and diplomacy...where diplomacy will have no place."

Jakob pondered my words, then left for his meeting. I mounted my horse, Vision...and felt sickened as my Robes of Trueseeing shimmered in the bloodiest red....a time of strife and war is coming.

When Man and Myth Collide

"So...is it you who claims to be the new evil sweeping across our lands?" asked Jakob Covenant as he stood steadfast before the Highland Fort...his loyal men returning from an encounter with Trullivan of the Mondainites.

Laughing slightly, Tenebrous looked down upon the Highlander from his sinewy silver steed. "I am not evil, Covenant...nor are the race of being I serve. To construe the righteous vedetta of Atalans to human as evil, well that is sheer vanity on your part. Heed my advice, Covenant. You must be far more decisive with the Temple than you were this day."

Jakob remained true to his convictions regarding Trullivan. "I had no authority to apprehend the Mondaintite, so he was permitted to leave in peace. You, too have same oppourtunity. I advise you to take it."

Asimov peered down from his shimmering mount. "Atalan do not move at your whim, Highlander. Remember that we are fast and ferocious. Our patience does have its limits."

Jakob responded evenly. "And I remind YOU Atalan, the the Highlanders are of short temper." Tenebrous brought a hand to his chin and his eyes flashed red once. "Yes...that 'short temper' was most evident today when you let Lores assassin slip through your grasp."

Jakob seethed. "Fret not, Jakob. You are a courageous human," patronized Tenebrous and he sat back on his horse. "just not very deliberate, I'm afraid." The fury in Jakobs armor was clearly beginning to show in his red face. "I actually feel a small sense of admiration Covenant. I shall feel bad when the day comes for me to ride you into the soils you cherish."

Asimov moved behind Jakob. "That is your shortcoming Tenebrous," he whispered as he stared down at Jakobs back. "...not mine."