The Kaar Chronicles - Part One

[Minosheep]

This is a story that started out as a myth I was supposed to write in class. It elevated into being an eight-page story. Hope you enjoy it; I had fun writing it. A sequel is coming soon.

DESCENT

“Well, Grom, let’s go.”
“Right, Grum.”
The two dwarves marched down the dusty road, humming to themselves songs from their ancient homeland. This was going to be grand; the peasants needed to be stirred into revolt. It was the only way to bring La’Runior and La’Runiah into war with each other. If La’Runior was to fall into revolt and be overthrown, then they would go after La’Runior’s sister land, La’Runiah.
There were two things that Grum knew quite well about the peasants of La’Runior. One, that they would quickly hunt down any race that did them harm, except for human; and two, that they thought homosexuality was the worst thing imaginable. Grum hoped to make a dwarf look like a homosexual, and in effect have all the peasants come after all dwarves, thinking all of them homosexual. Then, of course, Grum and his brother, Grom, would hug and cuddle in order to stir the revolt higher. Sure, they might die… but their leader wanted it. They were going to do this right.

* * *

Thomas poked his head out of his front door. His neighbors were unusually quiet. He turned his head to look up the road and perked a brow at what he saw.
Zook was coming down the road with two other dwarves that Thomas didn’t recognize. Whoever they were, they seemed to be awfully close to Zook.
But no, Zook couldn’t be…
Or was he?
Thomas quickly shook his head, and walked outside to greet his old friend. Just as he was about to open his mouth, one of Zook’s friends suddenly hugged Zook tightly about the waist, kissed him on the cheek, then rushed into a nearby house. Thomas hardly noticed the screams coming from the house soon after. His gaze was fixated on the flabbergasted Zook.
“You… you… you’re a…?”
Zook was speechless.
“You little…!" Then, louder, "Everyone! Out here! There’s a mitza among us!”
As Thomas predicted, people started rushing from their houses. Shouts of, “A mitza! A mitza!” filled the air, and soon peasants were all over Zook and his friend. Thomas walked back inside, grabbed a sickle, and then came out. Zook and the friend were tied down, but two humans lay dead, and another was injured. The dwarven stranger’s bloody axe was on the ground.
“A mitza dares come into our midst!” Thomas placed his foot on the dwarf’s neck. “What’s your name, then?”
The dwarf looked up at him, gave an ugly smile, then said, “I am Grom, son of Grim, from the Deep! All the dwarves of La’Runior are ready now to do battle with you! At your guard, human!” The way he said ‘human’ was disquieting; even more disquieting was the dwarf that burst from the previously entered house, uttering a fierce battle cry and driving his axe into a nearby peasant woman.
Thomas slit the throat of Grum, and then rushed this new adversary. Obviously a trained fighter, the dwarf hopped sideways, and proceeded to attack another, unarmed peasant. Another battle cry rang out, “For the fall of the humans of La’Runior! Death to ye all!”

* * *

Draa’Kaar wondered why he had been called. The land had been at peace over the past few days; what could be happening? A peasant revolt wasn’t likely, and even less likely was an undetected foe in their midst. Any attacking army would have been detected and been assaulted by now.
But what if it was La’Runiah attacking? La’Runiah obviously had a larger army. La’Runior would be taken down easily.
He let out a sigh of relief, though, at the calm look on His Majesty’s face when they met on the balcony. Draa’Kaar straightened his black and red robes marking him as the Arch Mage of La’Runior, and sat on the stone bench. The relief he felt was soon dissipated. Smoke from fire was rising above the rooftops of the houses. There was an orange glow encompassing much of the city.
Without thinking, he blurted out, “Rebellion?” He immediately repented his lack of manners, but King Dymlos didn’t seem to notice. His face looked slightly haggard.
“Draa’Kaar, our peasant population much outnumbers our army; there’s a three-to-one ratio. That’s not counting the dwarves. But it seems we no longer have to; every dwarf in the city has been killed as a mitza, and their homes were burned, all before our army could hope to stop it. The peasants are making a stand in the village square, and only one dwarf remains. Well, remained. Half an hour ago they burned him at the stake. Draa’Kaar, they’re hoping to overthrow us. And it will happen, because we will not stand for this! What I am bringing you here for is to propose something in order to stop this. Their leader is Thomas Brannigan.”
Draa’Kaar recognized the name, as King Dymlos no doubt predicted he would. An outstanding member of the community, Thomas Brannigan had often tried to keep the peasants under control. But the one thing Thomas hated most of all was the concept of mitzvani. The love of your own sex. Thomas thought people should be killed for it. Draa’Kaar highly disagreed but kept his tongue, even when Thomas’s words poisoned the minds of the other townspeople, bringing them all to hate mitzvani and any they might suspect of being a mitza. King Dymlos continued at Draa’Kaar’s nod of recognition.
“Draa’Kaar, I need you to assassinate Thomas at any cost. Is that clear?”
Draa’Kaar nodded. “I’ll go right now, Sire.”
Dymlos sat down, ending the meeting. Life seemed to come back into his face.
Draa’Kaar stepped back into the corridor and then began to prepare; he needed no spell book, having memorized every spell in it and the way of going about it. A good spell to make easier the absorbing of knowledge could work wonders. He had a heightened ability of magic, thanks to the absorption of magical stones, due to yet another spell. Draa’Kaar was a master of trickery and sorcery, and knew a few forms of martial arts as well, which he would put into effect when he cast on himself spells to increase his strength, stamina, and speed. A master warrior, and not half-bad at wielding a blade, and a great archer as well. His plan that was already formulating was simple; get onto a rooftop and snipe Thomas and a few of his followers with magically enchanted arrows. The arrows would send lightning in all directions, and fry other rebels. As long as he stayed out of their range he was invincible. He just hoped they didn’t have shields.

* * *

On the rooftop about ten minutes later, Draa’Kaar fit an arrow into his bow, took careful aim, and then loosed it. The arrow hit Thomas in the chest with force, and burst. The charred form that was Thomas fell, smoking, to the ground. An involuntary smile spread across Draa'Kaar's face at the chaos that erupted. Two more arrows were loosed and seven people fell dead. Draa'Kaar stood, making flames encircle his body and a wind kick up to blow his robes about and make him look more menacing, and cried, "This is what happens to the rebels!”
Immediately, the peasants were throwing themselves on the ground in surrender. The day was Draa’Kaar’s. The minstrels would have something to sing about tonight.

* * *

The minstrels had something to sing about that night. But it wasn’t Draa’Kaar’s victory over the rebels; no, they were singing of an old legend within the La’Runior family.
It was about the Glyph Door that was in the basement and how nobody could open it. Draa’Kaar had heard the legend many a time, and sighed, though the thought of it being a door to the Underworld certainly made a nice song.
Like they had a link to the immortal souls of men within their own castle.

* * *

Draa’Kaar had been called again. He toyed with the idea of being awarded a medal, but quickly dismissed it. There would have been preparation of a ceremony and the town would be loud. The town was deathly quiet, and the castle’s halls looked no more decorated than usual. Something else was up. Whatever it was, it was certainly not more rebellion. Not after yesterday’s show.
When he reached the throne room, he was shocked immediately. King Dymlos and Queen Tulip of La’Runior were there. Draa’Kaar knew little of La’Runiah, but he assumed that the strangers sitting next to them had to be the king and queen of La’Runiah. King Lucifer and Queen Ice, he thought. Their regal attire certainly enforced his thought.
“Draa’Kaar,” King Dymlos’ voice rang out. “Welcome. A recent matter has called our immediate attention.”
Always right to the point, King Dymlos. No ‘beating around the bush,’ as it were.
“The Glyph Door in the basement was glowing yesterday while you were out. That’s why the minstrels were singing about it.”
Draa’Kaar rolled his eyes.
“I saw you last night, the look of disgust upon your face. Of course you don’t think the Glyph Door leads into the Hells. It’s not logical, right? Everything has to be logical with you.”
Draa’Kaar seethed inside at the analysis.
“Okay. Fine. You want me to do something about it?” Forgetting courtesy, he spoke in a harsh tone. “I’ll go. Happy?”
Dymlos, looking amused, gave a nod.
“Go. If there are indeed demons, slay them.”
Draa’Kaar went.

* * *

The door stood menacing before him, the odd Glyphs on it glowing. Forgetting caution, he strode to it, and placed his hand upon it on a whim. It began to rumble, and then it swung open. Draa’Kaar barged inside. And then he stopped. Nothing could have prepared him for this. Green lights swarmed about him, and under his feet was a ground of red rock that spread in all directions. Flames licked at his feet, but never set him afire.
“Ye Gods…”
Draa’Kaar was in the Underworld. He smirked. It could be expected, but there were demons here if it was indeed the Underworld. He had his orders.
“Only place to go is forward.”
While speaking to himself, he still remained without caution. Above him, rock crumbled. He turned his eyes upward, noticing the tops of the cliff behind him, in which the Glyph Door was set. Rock crumbled again, landing beside him, and a winged form made its appearance far above. This was certainly the Underworld.
Suddenly, the creature dropped. Draa’Kaar leapt aside, drawing out his staff, power surging through his body. The creature landed, and then made a blind rush. Draa’Kaar met it with a cloud of razor-sharp icicles that tore through the being’s flesh and wings and left it as a sickening pile of gore. Draa’Kaar turned, and then bit his lip as he noticed the other three that were coming on fast. He furrowed his brow, tossed his cloak aside, was now in his breastplate and greaves, enchanted long sword in hand. As one of the creatures neared him, he decapitated it with a well-timed swing, moving on to the next and slicing it from jaw to shoulder blade. It fell down, and Draa’Kaar turned to meet the last.
The last didn’t seem to be present; at least not until he felt white-hot pain spreading throughout his leg, and blood soaking his loose pants. His sword darted again, this time at the beast on his leg, piercing it through the head. His sword sent an icy burst through the being. It fell dead, as the other did.
Sheathing his sword, he turned, and replaced his cloak; miraculously, the flames all around him didn’t burn it. In fact, he felt no pain at all from the fire. He attributed it to his clothing that warded magical flames. Uttering a quick spell to mend the flesh of his leg, he began to walk again, sword replaced by staff and providing support while his leg healed.

* * *

On the other side of the Underworld, Bloodreign Overlord watched the event through the help of his scrying abilities. He folded his wings about his body, smiling a wicked smile, if his jagged expression could be taken as a smile to anyone else but himself. His hand released its clenched form, spread is fingers out, claws gleaming. This little human in his realm would be a problem, yes. In the language of all things Feral, he spoke.
“Lan. Ran. Go stop human.”
Bloodreign despised the Feral language; so few words with which to convey his point. But the bumbling brutes that were Lan and Ran spoke it, and so Bloodreign spoke it to them. Letting out another jagged smile, acidic drool running from his mouth, he nodded at the backs of the two undead Chimerae while they were leaving. Leaning back against his throne carved of dried human bone and held together by marrow, he prepared to watch the human be torn apart by the Chimerae. Always a pretty sight, that. Bloodreign had a feeling that the death of this human would be no different.

* * *

Draa’Kaar crested yet another hill. The terrain where he entered might have been flat, but this area here was bumpy and hilly as Gods-know-what. His head peeked over the top of the hill, and then he froze; he was looking into the face of a goat. No, not a goat! Its head went right onto the body of a lion, from which sprouted wings and a reptilian tail. Its hindquarters were of a goat’s, but the features most sure to catch one’s eye would have to be the two other heads, of a lion and of a dragon. A Chimera! Two Chimerae!
Draa’Kaar stepped backwards in fear as the one he noticed first took a step forward. He tossed his cloak aside, once again in his loose clothing and light armor, drawing his blade and enchanting his body with spells of strength, speed, and stamina. This would not be easily won. Magically enhanced, he floated up into the air, out of immediate reach of the Chimera’s goat and lion heads. He would have to take them one at a time; two at once wouldn’t be easy. As he predicted, flame breath came from the dragon head. Unfortunately, the other Chimera helped.
“Well, this isn’t good.”
Draa’Kaar dropped, the two streams of fire intertwining and then going their separate ways, forming a sort of an ‘X’ pattern. Draa’Kaar landed beside one of the Chimerae, slit its goat head’s throat, darted away again—right into the hoof of another as it kicked him in the back. He landed, slid on his stomach for a bit, then hopped to his feet, and was leapt upon by the now-two-headed one. With his arms pinned down, he couldn’t get to his sword, and he couldn’t concentrate very well with claws digging into his shoulders. But he was going to have to try. As the lion head came closer, he toyed with the idea of dimensionally phasing away; but no, not with his level of concentration. He would be torn apart or stranded in some other dimension somewhere.
But the Chimera—soon, it found itself in a completely different dimension and torn apart. Draa’Kaar grinned to himself, then felt how tired he was. The other Chimera was in perfect health, and he was tired from sending that Chimera to a different dimension. The day was not yet won, and didn’t look like it would be soon; not at this rate, anyway.
He delved into his pocket, took out a feren fruit. He chomped into it, and the mystical fruit soothed his injured shoulders, partly refreshed his magical energy. A second later, it was on the ground, and Draa’Kaar was being clawed viciously by the other Chimera. Screaming in agonized rage, he summoned his sword to his hand and brought it across the Chimera’s arm, slicing into the wrist, blood squirting into the air and staining his clothing, flecking the golden fur of the Chimera crimson and spattering the ground a darker shade of red. Draa’Kaar twisted the sword, lowered his center of gravity, threw his hip out. The Chimera was tossed over him and was followed by Draa’Kaar’s sword. It flew with the beast a ways, and then pinned it to a rock. Draa’Kaar sat down, breathing heavily.
He couldn’t wait to meet their leader.

* * *

Bloodreign roared in a blind rage, his acidic saliva flying liberally from his mouth. He snarled and then spread out his gigantic wingspan, calling his burning sword to him. He closed his fist about it, and its flames became more intense. This intruder was going to die. Barging into the Minor Underworld like he owned the place, slaughtering the minions of Lucifer. The Dark Gods would not appreciate this. Least of all the High God of Darkness Lucifer. This human was going to die in a pool of his own blood.

* * *

Draa’Kaar heard a blood curdling sound coming from afar. It didn’t sound like a sound of pleasure; something was mad at the slaying of the Chimerae. Whatever it was, he hoped it was the leader of the Underworld. The leader could use a good slaughtering.
At the top of the umpteenth hill he’d come to, he stopped suddenly. A gigantic, black wedge was moving along the ground below, towards him. The sound of thousands of marching feet came from within the wedge, and he caught glimpses of red and a winged figure flying far above. An entire army was coming. Draa’Kaar was powerful, but he was no match for thousands upon thousands of enemies— especially not demons! Gritting his teeth, he lowered his hand to his sword; he would not go down without a fight. He drew steel and held his staff in the other hand. The wedge was upon him now, and formed a circle. This was a tactic with which he was familiar; the surrounding of enemy troops was common. Then he noticed that the demons carried no weapons— none of them, except for the flying one, who held a burning sword with barbs on the blade. The flying demon landed before him, crossed his arms, and jaggedly displayed his teeth; perhaps he was smiling. Greenish drool came from the corner of its mouth, dripped to the ground, steamed for a bit, and left deep holes. Draa’Kaar stepped back, not fond of dying a death of virulence; he certainly wasn’t much one to be tortured, let alone poisoned. The demon stepped forward, dragging its sword on the ground, and then swung without further warning. Draa’Kaar hopped backward, cloak being torn and ripped from his body, caught on one of the apparently one-edged barbs. A clever design; the barbs would go in without trouble, but the back edged were blunt. In order to take it out of an enemy, one would have to rip it out, bringing all the more ruin upon one’s foe.
Draa’Kaar got a good look at the demon. He recognized what it was; a High Demon Overlord. Capable of destroying kingdoms single-handedly, and extremely feral in its fighting techniques; but, being feral and therefore animalistic, if one was to kill the Overlord, then all of its followers would be behind the vanquisher. Allowing a small grin to crack his stoic visage, he landed, and charged blindly. As the demon swung again, Draa’Kaar phased through dimensions, appearing instantly behind the Overlord and slashing at its wing, making a nice cut in it. The ten-foot horror turned, and spat. Acid landed on Draa’Kaar’s shoulders and chest, burning him through the protective clothing. He landed again, charged again, flipped sideways from another blow and then received a kick to the jaw by a lightning-fast foot. He slid, rolled to his feet, and amplified his strength tenfold. Charging in again, he brought his sword up to parry the Overlord’s, pivoted suddenly, twisting through the air and landing upon the sword. He ran up the blade, brought his sword towards the Overlord’s face—and then was swatted away again, but not before leaving a nice cut on the demon’s jaw line. Again rolling, he was on his feet in an instant, but the Overlord was in no mood to play any longer. Draa’Kaar soon found himself in a deadly sword-fight, carefully measuring his strides and trying to predict the demon’s next move, always at a disadvantage for size— no; he could turn it to his advantage…
As the Overlord swung again, Draa’Kaar was the quicker, using a sudden burst of power to knock the demon’s blade from his hand, then rushed forward, slicing into the back of its knee. The Overlord fell, and soon found itself… well, incapable of finding itself. One’s judgement tends to be impaired when one has a sword in one’s head. The Overlord writhed, tried desperately to shake him, but Draa’Kaar was ruthless and stayed, blasting his own energies through the demon and tearing him apart internally. Blood was thick in the air and the Underworld’s red haze was augmented. Draa’Kaar removed himself from the demon and grinned as it stopped moving. The creatures that were under the demon’s command leapt upon the dead thing and tore at it viciously. Draa’Kaar, exhausted, fell down with a smile upon his face. He now commanded thousands of demons. This section of the Underworld was his. When he awoke, he would be sure to conquer the rest of this place, and then— well, who knows? There’s always the surface…
THE END … OR IS IT?

[nor am i]

Love it so far...Have not read the whole thing yet.
*looks at how long it is* :Oo:
Favorite part read: "Driving his axe into a nearby peasent woman"
*laughs*

[Minosheep]

Thanks for the comment...

[ShinkuKitsune]

@_@ *finally done reading*

It took a while but it was worth it! =D It's so good... can't wait for the next part :3

At first I was really confused about the La'Runior and La'Runiah thing.... The names are so similar @_@ It's prolly just me though... It got clearer as I got into it more, so no worries X3

Yeah, so, it's wonderful love it~

[KenseiKurisuchan]

Demonic, do you play The Elder Scrolls III: The Morrowind?

[Minosheep]

No, Chris, I'm afraid I do not.

[Minosheep]

Sequel in progress. Probably longer and better than this one, too.

[Artanis]

WoW that was really good......no GREAT cant wait till the next part

GOOD JOB

[Minosheep]

Bumpage.

Sure, the story's almost a year and not very good and I wrote it in two days, but I kinda liked it. The beginning part was unecessary and was part of the assignment, but the descent into the underworld was the part I most liked, shallow as it was.

Planning on rewriting it, except much deeper, better, and more involved.