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[Eldan D`Ardan]

---

The seige continued full swing outside the walls of Minoc. Eldan was exhausted from constant patrols and having to battle several times a day. Those who opposed them seemed intent on making friends. Considering the blood that had been spilt already, that was a null point.

The Warden was past any point of simply letting these humans walk in and claim Minoc. His worries were that their Emperilistic thoughts would not end in the Northland. He had already dispatched those necessary to warn some of the other governments in Felucca. He doubted they were as benevolent as they tried to make themselves appear. Especially after what had transpired in the past week and half.

The seige went fairly well up untila few days ago....

The walls were holding, and the Militia had fended off their attacks, but he worried for how long would they be able to keep this pace. Soon, those here would be wary of fighting them more. Eldan looked south, over the makeshift wall before him. Vesper fell, if Minoc was to, they would have half of the Northland Under their control.

A large attack came two days ago, the Dark Ones, as he had come to call them, were retreating. King Talon of Sanctus and his finest were there, holding the line against the oppressors. They fared well. Upon the Order's retreat, he Ordered his men to march to Vesper, in an attempt to liberate it from enemy control. Initially, his scouts had reported a Victory there, appearantly Umbran soldiers were fighting alongside the current enemy. Adding another group to the equation. The Umbrans had be stopped, but the Dark Order came behind, boxing in his Sanctan allies.

Eldan could do nothing, Minoc must be held.

Now he stood looking towards what he assumed would be an approaching enemy. He was unseen to the man, but from the description, it fit Vaen Swiftar. A newly joined "legend" to the Order. He wasn't impressive...he was a human, as most of them were. Perhaps it took a certain humanistic quality to fall in line, to be an ally of Isk. Amongst other things that kept the Warden from joining them and surrendering.

He rode in arrogantly, as they all did. So sure of himself. He knew their scouts were sleazing around Minoc. Especially after Vaen arrived shortly after Eldan's return from a patrol. Theyspoke for several moments. Swiftar spoke of his knowing what is best for his home town. Eldan refused to give the man room. This was war, this human was his enemy.

It was true, most of those who served with him to keep the Dark Order from continuing their conquest were Human. This did not bother the elf. All humans were vastly different from one another, the only static trait he noticed, was they all desired power in some shape or form. They needed to control the environment they lived in. And in the case of his current enemies, they sought to control other humans, through force.

There would be no reasoning with these men. From the words Vaen spoke, the Warden saw either their way, or oppose them. Which is exactly what he planned on doing.

Throughout the past few weeks, they still made attempts to justify their method of "law and order." Law and Order is a choice. A choice that the people of Minoc cast aside long ago. It was a frontier town, not interested in the ideals of a Dark Order bringing the sword and fist.

Let them come. If war is the only language they know....then a war they shall have.[/i]

[Tarothin Armunn]

---

Hopefully the ritual that Darrien did proves to be fruitful, for it almost cost them a piece of Vesper.

He had brought a handful of soldiers with him to protect and ensure Darrien's ritual was completed without error. He had received word that the Order of Sanctus and some of their allies had made a risky and aggressive push to attempt to recapture some of Vesper. They broke through the small amount of patrols that were set up and managed to make shift barricade themselves on the northern island of Vesper.

Umbra had come to pay back Talon's men for attacking Ceinwyn earlier but unsuccessful in removing the Sanctans from Vesper. Taking the diversion, the Dark Order at hand, gathered together and plowed through the makeshift barricade and forced the Sanctans back to Minoc.

I guess we have not broken them as much as I had thought over the last few days. He had thought that they wouldn't have had the heart to push past Minoc because of how easily the Dark Order kept them behind their wall. He had made an error.

It is almost time to rout them out of Minoc and this area once and for all.

[Roger de Clare]

---

He fully enjoyed the time he spent at home with his beloved. Together they walked through the forest, talked at the table or in front of the fireplace or on the balcony overlooking the sea. They tore down and rebuilt the spa. Her tender love restored his spirit. He felt ready again for duty.

He recalled to Sanctus to purchase refreshments late that evening and found the Sanctan army mobilizing for battle. Their mages cast gates and the army whisked away. He tarried to learn how they fared. Some time later, gates again opened and the Sanctan army returned. After the king spoke to them, Roger sat with Prince Zarlox in the tavern.

Zarlox told him they had defeated the Dark Order at Minoc and then again at Vesper. Excellent news, Roger said. He recalled home to share the news with Xana.

The next day, he journeyed to Minoc and found the army of Sanctus already there. The enemy stayed away except for one or two who made brief forays and vanished. Roger spent his time watching the Lady Tatiana Alexi faithfully mend the barricade, and he spoke with those inclined to speak.

"Folks sure are funny, " one militiaman said to him. "I was born here and I figure it's my duty to keep this city from being taken by them foreigners. They figure they have a need to rule over us and we figure we don't want them. A good many of my friends and neighbors have died keeping them out.

"The other day one of them, " he indicated the enemy, "came over to tell us he was born in Minoc. Said he wanted us to understand why he's on that side 'stead of this side. Wanted us to understand why he's killing us instead of killing them, is what he meant.

"Well, I don't understand it at all." He indicated the new graves dotting the land, "Nor do they."

[Xana]

---

Hearing all the tales of darkness overcoming the lands that she so loved made Xana feel such a mix of emotions, one of the most unwelcome of them being that of hopelessness. It was getting to the point that she was beginning to fear her hours-long daily rides to find beautiful places to sit and play her music. After spending the morning plucking out heart rending songs on her harp, she undressed and climbed into the newly built pool of warm water and tried to relax. The effort was fruitless and she grew more agitated.

Roger tried so hard to keep the news he gave her sounding positive, but the stories could be heard just about anywhere if one paid enough attention. Hearing tales of Minoc under siege was just more than she could really bear; it was her birthplace. So many thoughts ran through her mind, and if an outsider were able to climb into Xana's ponderings, it might have sounded something like this:

Minoc was my home. Yes, but you grew to resent all that the camp stood for, the wanton and random lifestyles--you couldn't wait to leave! I know, and I even tried to go back to help once I established myself in the world--they shunned me and turned me away but it's MY HOME! Oh who cares, nobody ever notices the gypsies anyway unless they have an unsolved crime. Minoc will be fine. (A pause here.) But Minoc was my home. My birthplace. My birthRIGHT. Maybe the only way to put this to rest is to go see for yourself what is happening there--maybe it really isn't as bad as you think. (Another pause.) But then again maybe it is.

Suddenly angry, the woman stood and climbed from the soothing waters of the hot tub and stalked to the bedroom upstairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints and droplets in her wake. There, she grew more aggravated as she pulled leather armor onto a body that was still too damp from the bath. A few angry movements pulled long wet hair into a ragged pony tail, and the bandanna was put hastily on. On came the high boots. Heavy footfalls on the tile brought her back downstairs and out into the chilled morning, where she summoned her steed and mounted to ride.

With a cry that was not quite anger, nor quite battle cry, nor quite pain or frustration, she dug her heels into the flanks of her mount and rode hard.

For Minoc.
_________________
An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner

[Cal Hurst]

---

After the Dark Order lost the war of attrition at Minoc, the forces pushed into Vesper, meeting next to no resistance. The Dark Order were still reorganizing their counter-assault.

"We're going to have a little help with this one, guys," one of them said, "their numbers are far too overwhelming. So we're going to even it up."

With that, there was word that Umbra had pushed into Vesper, and engaged the Sanctus army, alongside the Northern Militia. The word was given, and the Dark Order flooded into Vesper.

"Much more smooth," Vaen said to Beowulf. "Without the barricade, and in open field, it's easy pickin's...." Grinning to himself, he and Beo ran side-by-side, picking off targets, just like they used to; just as they were previously trained.

After the battle was over in Vesper, and the forces were pushed back once again to Minoc, Beo and Vaen stood out infront of Vesper bank, smirking to one another. "Like old times, old friend," said Beowulf.

"More to come, Beo. More to come." Vaen road off to the North, towards Minoc. As he got further away, a faint yell could be heard...

"For Minoc!"
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[Imryrr Armunn D|O]

---

Seeing her dark sister of another land had been a pleasant surprise. Chatting in the heat of battle was a fool's mistake however, and a fool she had been. She knew that. At the height of her anger at herself, Imryrr picked herself up from the ground with much effort to get out of the way of the battle. She was losing conciousness quickly, but before she had, she witnessed the assault on the Matriarch bystander.

A flash of Dark Order color went by, then paused long enough to ask, "Will Umbra be helping us now?"

Propping her body against a tree, still fighting to remain clear headed, Imryrr smiled coldly and answered, "Perhaps Sanctus has just answered that question."

After being stitched up, Imryrr stood with some of the Dark Order soldier at the ritual. She put little to no faith in religion and rituals of any sort. She viewed magic more logically. It was a form of energy, nothing more. No hocus pocus. She had her doubts that this ceremony would work, but she would support it. She would witness it. And she would defend it. Darrien Church was to be respected and she felt an odd kinship with the Lich Lord. Though she found his thinking odd and perhaps rediculous in some ways, they shared a mind for intricate logic, and she appreciated his intelligence wholeheartedly.

The message came like a knife in her belly. Vesper was under assault. She gripped the hilt of her blade, but instead of turning to leave for battle, she turned to look at her father. Tarothin seemed as antsy as she. But his feet were firmly planted. They were staying to continue to protect this ceremony. The last ritual they were assigned to protect, failed. This one would succeed. They would defend it. And so they stayed...knowing that Vesper might fall with their absence, or in the very least, be much more difficult to defend with such delay.

Sanctus' grip on Vesper was firm. The battle raged. Not knowing the enemy forces were already inside Vesper, Imryrr was caught off guard, and came close to being arrested. Damn her legs. And damn Marcus M'real. A simpleton, whoes face seemed familiar, aided her. She would not be taken prisoner that day at least. Returning to DarkCove was not a happy choice, but her deep wound kept her from the battle that at the time though she was unaware, they and their allies would eventually win.
Vesper to remain in Dark Order's hands that night.
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HAWK# 232286048

Walter: "Brian Bael and Cloudster were the ultimate threesome." Now I knowy our fantasy.
Ditto: Our? oooo you swing that way?
Walter: zomg now I gave you a quote *facepalm*

[Tay Thormear]

---

For the first time in nearly seven days, the Dark Order had been pushed back. Each night they had successfully broken the defence's at the barricade. Beowulf had to hand it to them, they were relentless in rebuilding their barricade.

Finally the night had come. Tarothin, Beowulf, Vaen, Acacia faced the Northern Militia, Sanctus, Yew's army, and Legion of Honor. Nick and Tarothins daughter had already been knocked down. The three mages and the Dark Knight pressed against the countless numbers provided by the defence's.

Finally they were pushed back, Beowulf and Tarothin were the last ones standing. "Perhaps it's time to regroup, let Darrien run his ritual.." Tarothin nodded his agreement to his honor guard.

Word spread quickly that the defences had grown more than happy over their victory. Scouts said that King Talon spoke words of encouragement over the forces. They had grown so proudly that they left Minoc undefended and moved towards Vesper. They had foolishly barricaded themselves on the Northern Island.

Daughter Armunn made the mistake of arriving to early and alone in Vesper, quickly over run by the sheer numbers. Vaen, Beowulf, Acacia and Rinartican pushed forward. Beowulf shot spells towards the weakly built barricade, attemtping to break some of it down. The four had taken a few down, but we soon over run. They had to retreat once more and gather forces.

"Umbra is attacking Sanctus in Vesper." someone spoke.

"Why is it that I keep hearing Sanctus? They seem to be doing more fighting than the Northern Militia..." Beo chuckled and nudged Vaen.

"Umbra has been overwhelmed." the same someone reported.

"March to Vesper!" Tarothins daughter commanded. Beowulf rolled his eyes and casted a gate. "This is how we march to our City."

The Dark Order rolled in like a dark cloud covering the sun. Sanctus was no longer locked up behind a brick or wooden wall. Further South, Beowulf could see Tarothin tearing into the Sanctus ranks. The Dark Knight faught alone, breaking apart their ranks, giving the rest of Dark Order the chance to pick and choose their kills. Their forces were open, now they would be put to the test. Darmug, Vaen and Beowulf pressed out. The rest of the Order following the Armunns and attacking. Quickly the ex Legion members teamwork at proven to be flawless again in battle.

"Much more smooth." Vaen said to Beowulf.

[Xana]

---

Xana's steed burst forth from the moongate at Minoc and she continued riding hard. It was not long before the evidence of what was happening there became apparent. She reined in the horse's speed to a brisk walk with a shaking hand, her eyes bright with fear as she surveyed the scene for herself.

What she saw did nothing to calm her frayed nerves. Her birthplace, though not thoroughly destroyed, was indeed in shambles. Squinting against the now high morning sun, she saw no indication that any invading forces were nearby at that time. She clenched her jaw as her mount picked its way through strewn debris, and for not the first time in recent days thought of her lost sister; Xana wondered just what side of this dark cause her twin would have chosen if she hadn't already.

Clearly the struggle between good and evil was surfacing in this pretty little town and Xana thought it a pity. If the darklings of Cove prevailed, her birthplace would never be the same. If they fell, there would be nothing more than a little bump in that page of its history.

It was anger that took root in her heart as she rode for the moongate and arrived in Moonglow on the lighter side--anger at herself for resolving to not get involved, and anger at Cove for its incessant onward march. It seemed best to go back to the home she made with Roger and let it play out the way the gods saw fit.

There was not enough room in her heart for the shame.
_________________
An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner

[Xana]

---

It was with a grim expression, her jaw set, that Xana listened to Roger's version of events the night that Minoc fell. Really it was no surprise, but the news struck her harder than she had anticipated since her brief visit. It was not difficult to picture the scene that Roger described.

In some ways it was good to get the listening over with. She still harbored a personal sense of shame for being unable to get involved in the happenings there. There was really just no sense. Taking arms against the dark ones seemed futile and silly for a gypsy musician who'd left the camp as a young teenager and who had managed to avoid battle with fellow humans and elves for all these years.

But why fight for a place that held nothing for her? Her parents were seemingly long gone, parents who apparently saw fit to separate her from her twin and lie about what really happened, parents who gave birth to too many children--more than they could afford--parents who seemed to think spending their days and nights in a drunken haze was more important than doing right by their family. And what of the camp? Those that stood (No! Sat!) idly by and watched these children live in a dirty and squalid existence? To her knowledge, nobody ever looked for her when she set out on her own to seek out education and a better way for herself.

Xana kept telling herself that there was nothing there, nothing at all, for her. Yet she kept reminding herself that it was her birthplace. She shook her head to clear it of such useless thoughts.

When Roger was through telling his story, she looked at him and realized there was so much he often left out. He was protecting her from the truth of how dire the battles he engaged in often were, the extent of his own injuries. What a kind and gentle soul he was, he was everything a paladin should be, at least in her eyes.

After murmuring words indicating her adoration for him, she set about the task of bringing him food and drink as he went to remove his battle-weary armor and clean up.

"So Minoc has fallen," she thought as she set the plate upon the table. It pained her that her own personal sense of guilt overrode the news that her birthplace was overtaken by the Dark Order and her allies.

She wondered about herself, sometimes.
_________________
An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner