The stories so far, Edited and ready to roll. Options

[Troika]

OK, this thread will contain any and all stories that are posted on the geocities site and labelled as edited. These babies we don't have to worry about until it actually comes time to stick em in the game.

I will sort out this thread... in other words, please do NOT post up stories yourself... it could lead to multiple copies which could prove problematic later.

Also, please keep posts in this thread to a minimum. This is mainly just a place where people have quick and easy (although not necessarily organised) access to the stories already finished with.

[Troika]

Section: Stories

Written by Raithen Arthat (raithen)

The Mage, The Warrior, and The Thief

The mage was ready. His life added up to this moment-This moment alone. Ever since he was a child, he has known he must do this. He remembered the first time he met Swellen, the warrior… the first time they became friends. It was a bright day. The autumn leaves were just beginning to swirl to the ground, all different colours. A rainbow of reds, yellows, browns, and oranges. Beautiful as it was, it barred a dark destiny of three children, soon to be men.

The mage reached for his staff and whispered an incantation upon it. At once he felt the swirl of his magic, his magic, the magic as to which would kill his ex-friend. He then found his silver sword, used once on the isle of Solstheim to ward off werewolves. Not needed that much anymore, he merely brought it along to slay his enemies. He stepped out into the bright summer’s day. It was beautiful. But this day held something else… Something almost forbidding…

The warrior fastened the clasps on his chestplate and tied the knots needed to keep it in place. He then pulled on his gauntlet tight and flexed his hand. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, Deathslay, and felt the power pulse through his veins. This was the day he would strike down all his enemies; he would kill that mage or die trying. The warrior’s name was Swellen, and his opponent was De’ Apstose, the mage. His enemy was powerful, but the knight was immortal-And the mage did not know that…

The mage traveled on. He knew where the knight would be. They both had the intention of killing each other, so they would go to the place where it began-To end it. They would not go to an arena in some city in this province. That would not be honorable. They must end this- He, De’ Apstose, must end this. For he was immortal, and the warrior did not know that…

Only one weapon could strike either of these two down. And it was called “Breath of the Immortals”. This weapon was in the hands of a man, who knew what he would have to do. He would have to kill both the other men who have been granted an immortal life.

The warrior found the clearing, he drew his weapon, and he waited. Suddenly, a swirl of mist came out of nowhere, and the mage appeared. The warrior readied himself, already thinking of the best way to slay his opponent.

“Hello, warrior. It seems you have guessed the right spot for our final battle.”
“I shall silence you with my blade, mage!” said the warrior.
“Aha, as you think.”
“That is what I know!” And the warrior thrusted forward with his sword. Instantly, the mage and warrior were locked in an endless struggle. Neither of them knowing the other was immortal.

Soon the man came upon their fight, and he knocked a silver arrow into his bow. He pulled back the string and let it fly. The arrow was an amazing sight. It flew right through the warrior, killing him instantly, and then through the mage, who disappeared into a pile of robes. As soon as the arrow had appeared, it disappeared over the horizon.

The man walked over to the fallen immortals. His duty fulfilled. He thought he could even here the gods thank him. He reached down and took the warrior’s sword, tied it to his side, then took the mage’s staff. He took one last look around, then shouldered the bow and set off through the forest.

If one might have sat there and watched the clearing after the thief had left, one might have noticed a little silver arrow glide silently through the air and land peacefully on what was left of the mage.

Written by Raithen Arthat