The Song of the Moon

The Song of the Moon



















Prologue

A man with wavy red hair walked down the crowded street, twisting and turning to dodge the on coming horses and carriages. The sky was as black as night, even though it was midday, and torrents of rain fell down into the grimy, backwater town he was in. As he rounded the street corner into an alley, he found a sheet of old, crumpled up parchment, dark yellow with age. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with it, but the fact was that this paper had a very special marking on it, one that only he and a few others would know. He very carefully picked it up, holding it far away from him, just to make sure there wasn’t anything “wrong” with it. Determining that it was safe, he opened it up and read the pamphlet, still being careful to make sure there weren’t any charms on it.

The Short History of Our Island Kingdoms, Ceprola.

Once a collection of divided nations, soon after the Iceshaft War and the subsequent Culling of the Kings, which contained of the righteous assassination of any who would not surrender, or whose ideas weren’t on the same level, as determined by the psions, of their exalted conqueror, King Yvernas the 1st, the one who brought peace and knowledge throughout the Bountiful Islands. There are now questions of how he was put into power, seeing how he was raised by a humble colony of Fiernas, and was one of them. As you all know, Fiernas are relatives of Nymphs and are attuned with nature, and may have some control over it, even though there are both male and female Fiernas.
There are four major islands in Ceprola: Theren, Elskis, Fier, and Cres. There is a capital of each of those Islands, which our king, King Yvernas the 25th, and his queen, the Fiernas Illue, reside in each season of the year, winter in Theren, spring in Elskis, and so on and so forth. There in Cres is built the Exalted Order of the Holy Drakis, founded in 0 H.D. which was built to protect all of good and righteousness….
* * *

At this point the reader stopped reading. He spat in disgust and then mumbled to himself. “One of the High Exalted Venal Money-grubbers pamphlets, Hmph.” With that he snapped the fingers of the hand that held the parchment and then, suddenly, it burst into an inferno. The man threw it on the ground and walked away, leaving it to smolder.

Chapter One

The day was bright, sunny, and generally blinding, as the wizard Crimson, as he was usually called, walked through it, cheerfully, unflinchingly. This Fiernas, with silver eyes, light tan skin, a pointed, angular face and sharp ears common to elves, seemed pretty much, well, normal for his race except for two features: his hair and certain tattoos around his face. His hair was platinum colored, with a long, well, crimson stripe through it running from where his hair started, over his right eye, to where it ended, right to the middle of his back. His tattoos were red. There were two under his eyes curving to his mouth, and also small triangles on the top of his eyebrows.
He just passed a crossroad on the pathetic dirt road he was on when suddenly, seemingly from the air, a group of heavily armored people appeared. They were heavily armed too, to the teeth, bristling with anger and a lust for gold, among other things. Knowing they were about to attack him Crimson raised up his hands like he was trying to calm a horse, and yelled, “Whoa, Whoa, don’t get any idea’s of attacking me yet, I don’t want to hurt you!” As a reply, the leader stepped up in front of the pack and said,
“Who said we were going to attack you! We just want money.”
“Oh. So you’re bandits.”
“No crap! Didn’t you see the ambush, and the heavily armed people and the chests just waiting to be filled?”
“Wait, I didn’t see the chests.”
“Oh. Well, get prepared to die.”
The bandits suddenly stormed Crimson, raising their weapons and just acting generally like a mob, unorganized and in disarray. Crimson raised his hands and spoke in a booming voice, uncharacteristic of his kin. The bandits froze, paralyzed, and blue auras appeared around their bodies. Right when he cast the spell, Crimson started thinking of ways to deal with them. “Should I bury them alive, nah, too harsh. What about eviscerating them, no, too good for ‘em. How about vivisecting them? Yeah, let’s do that, slowly, oh so slowly, and painfully, they will be begging me to just let them die.”
As he said that, the bandits were able to hear him, and from what you could discern from their limited facial movement, the wide open eyes, the gaping mouths, and the one who was the leader, who had managed to have more freedom of movement, at least in her facial area, said out loud to herself, “I think this guy’s mad.” Crimson lifted up his hand and, in synchronization with his hand movements, the bandits were lifted up into the air. Crimson quickly closed his hand into a fist, and then pushed out towards the band. The bandits were flung back, with the force of an oncoming log rushing down a white rapid. As a few fell on their own swords, most of them ran, seeming to rush Crimson but just ran past him in discord. “Ya, that’s what you get you hexed, uncultured, magic-fearin’ heathens!” Down about 100 yards, a commotion rose up from where the bandit’s were still running. Skillessly and effortlessly, a person was cutting them down, a slice here, then gracefully turning around and slashed at another one, not wasting any energy as he moved. With his curved blade and his calm demeanor, he overwhelmed the bandits, and within a few seconds, they all lay on the ground in a circle around him, either dead or mortally wounded. He himself was standing in the middle of that circle, back hunched a little bit, panting because of the heavy exertion of the fight, and holding out two masterfully forged curved swords. He heard a groan, and threw his shorter sword at the source. A yelp was heard, then still silence. He had wavy red hair, stubble of a beard, and a patch over his right eye, but which didn’t seem to deter his fighting, for the way the person threw his sword was on his right side. Crimson yelled over at him and waved. “Hey! Why don’t you come over here and we’ll talk, haven’t seen you in a long time!”
* * *
It was now night, and Crimson and his friend were sitting around a small metal pot holder, holding some kind of viscous liquid in a pot. Crimson started to pour the liquid into some cups as he talked to his friend, “So, Kelinti, long time, no see. Where have you been lately?” and handed him a cup of the liquid, and poured some for himself. Kelinti replied “I have been around, took a few jobs. You know, with me and my ‘Blades, life never really quiets down.”
“Ah” Crimson knew what he was talking about, because he had served a few years with the ‘Blades, Kelinti’s mercenary group. They usually took care of bandits and the like, sometimes acted as temporary law enforcement, and had a moral code, but they had sometimes taken some more “unruly” jobs. “So, why aren’t you with the ‘Blades now?”
Kelinti’s face instantly hardened, then took a mournful look. “I’m sorry to say this, but they’re gone. Wiped out. I looked for you, and know what you are looking for. It might have been the cause of the death of my comrades.”
“I’m so sorry,” Crimson replied. They were a good group, always cheerful and full of hope, a bright contrast to the dark times that were going on. As for what he was looking for, Crimson went into a short reverie.
* * *
The day that the magic weakened. Chaos had ensued, structures made up entirely of magic collapsed, many people died, and the entire population of the Island Kingdoms of Ceprola was cut in half. The elements of Prima Materia, Prime Matter, were sealed away and the most important component of magic taken away and hidden beyond all people’s reach. Some people found a way to use magic again, but it was nowhere as powerful. Certain mages and students set out to find them and unlock them. The Prime Materia of fire seemed most important, and Crimson set out to find it, gathering information wherever he went, closing in on it’s location.

* * *
Kelinti took a sip of the liquid, then spit it back out, his face in a look of disgust. “Damn! That stuff’s nasty! What in all elements is it?”
Crimson replied with a sheepish smile, “What, you don’t like my homebrewed tea? I’ve changed my recipe a bit.”
“Oh, that stuff. Yeah, I remember, the entire troop threatened to flay you alive if you didn’t throw away all of the ingredients to make it.”
Crimson replied, “Then they threatened to do worse than that if I didn’t make more when they discovered that they were addicted to it.”
Then Kelinti, “Ah, those were good times.” There was a momentary pause, a second of awkwardness, and a minute of silence, then:
“So, what info have you found out about the Prime?” Kelinti asked.
“Not much, some rumors, a few fakes, and a really angry Order of the Drakis member.”
Kelinti mused for a little bit, and then said,” But what did the Order say?”
“Some stuff about how Prime magic was only for Blasphemers and Heretics, and to stay away from the Mountain of the Holy Red Dragon on Cres. Ya know, those members can really be idiotic and narrow-minded sometimes.”
“Makes sense that the Prime of Fire would be in the Red Mountain.” replied Kelinti, “Only thing we have to worry about is the entire island turning up at that spot, looking for eternal fame and fortune for returning a large part of magic to the world.”
“Oh, yeah, like those people of the mainland, for discovering the Prime of Water. Who ever they are, I am eternally grateful. They returned a large chunk of my powers.”
Kelinti yawned, and now said, “Whatever, I’ll be going to sleep now.”
“Now wait a second,” Crimson said, “first you’re going to play your harp, or none of my food.”
“Fine, fine” Kelinti replied, and pulled out a small harp from his pack, and started to play and to sing.

The Pyre died with the drying ashes, and her ashes rose up into eternity. The feelings of many were over turned by just a few, and then the chaos ensued. maige e el acarnum espi en mie or fior de destryctym
Mage in the magic, win with me or face the destruction
espi el feyr fromn de dyrknyss fyr mie or fior de dyth
Win the fear from the darkness for me or face the death
recyvyr de elymntys ayd Ei wil protyvct yvu
Recover the elements and I will protect you
fyir fyr gyld, wytyr fyr sylvyr, Eryth fyr brynze, ayr fyr elyctrim
Fire for gold, water for silver, Earth for bronze, air for electrum
recyvyr de elymntys ayd Ei wil protyvct yvu
Recover the elements and I will protect you.
De Myn syng wil drwy yvu
The Moon Song will draw you.
The song carried on for many verses, but the most impacting was the refrain. Soon Crimson fell asleep, before he could ask Kelinti about the meaning of those words, mind carried into oblivion.
* * *
Crimson saw a figure floating to him and he was floating himself, the colors around him were so vivid, but Crimson knew he was dreaming, as he abided by a popular saying: If you’re floating, you’re either dreaming or had one two many swigs of Crimson’s tea. Knowing that his tea would never do anything like that, he knew he was dreaming. The figure soon grew close to him, and he determined that it was feminine, but not much else. She was dressed with white robes and long, silver hair, but still young, about twenty. The most peculiar thing about her was that she kept on changing between a young kid and a woman, clothes changing size with her. She floated till she was about ten feet away from him and spoke into his mind, without moving a facial muscle, except to occasionally blink, and she spoke in the Fycsl tongue; the Old tongue.
“Iyn de Fycsl tyge Ei spyk tsy lystn tw mie wyl”
In the old tongue I speak, so listen to me well.
“De woyrs taht Ei spyk r de oyns taht yvu nyst lystn tw”
The words that I speak are the ones that you must listen to.
“Myi nim es Luna ayd you must recover the elements!
“Wait, wait, you can communicate in Commonspeak?” replied Crimson “Then why in the Burning Hells are you talking in the Fycsl tongue? I mean, for some reason I can understand you, but why?”
“Because I like that language.” Luna said with a smile and a little laugh. “But you must recover the elements. I am the one who was mentioned in the song. Those are my words. And those were my ashes. I sent out that song through the minds of many musicians. To draw one person: You.”
“Me?” Crimson replied as he pointed a finger at himself. “You must have this all wrong. I mean, I was already trying to recover those elements, but why did you have to choose me?”
“Because you are Chosen. You know, like all those stories that you heard when you where young, guy gets chosen, saves the world, you know, that path.” Luna said with another laugh. “You really needed to have paid more attention during your childhood. But anyways, the thing I said about being chosen, you really aren’t, I just needed to draw you in. You still must find the elements. Go, when you need me I’ll be here.”
With that the dream faded out of view gradually, showing Luna waving back at him.
CHAPTER 2

Crimson and Kelinti soon woke up and packed, and were then on the road. All the while, Crimson was muttering to himself. After a while Kelinti had a little talk with him, “All right, spit it out, what are you whispering to yourself about?”
“I’m reciting all of my lessons. Fire for gold, Water for silver, Earth for bronze, Air for electrum. Each of these are used for their component spells, and if in their most powerful forms, can be used to make any thing with their elemental properties. Any skilled alchem can use one of these metals and release the inherent properties within; the journeyman can do this with just words and a wave of a hand. With the new block of the magic, old alchems have turned to new sources, pulling the elements from the energy that permeates the world, but as that can only be made by the sun itself, it’s power is weak.”
“Wow”, Kelinti replied, “I remember those basic classes well, and you’ve recited it perfectly. Damn, you should be teaching this stuff to the king’s children.”
“No” Crimson shook his head, platinum hair seemed to be flailing wildly, even though Crimson shook his head lightly, “That was just the words that every alchem must know, word for word, or they aren’t even worth being in existence.” They walked along quietly, taking in the sights of the forest they just walked into. Almost feeling the vibrant greens and the lush bushes. Walking past some ancient oaks, the travelers heard loud noises, what sounded entirely like battle, the clashing of steel against steel, the whooshing of arrows, and the little tinklings of magic being released. In all urgency they seemed to fly swiftly through the underbrush like a peregrine falcon swooping down on a pigeon. They soon came to the massive clearing that the battle was coming from, and, from their point of view, it looked more like a massacre than a battle. A battalion of Order members were fighting, and dying, against a guard of soldiers, more specific, soldiers dressed in red scale suits of mail. The Order members’ attacks seemed to bounce right off the suits, some even refracting back at themselves. As you can guess from that description, the Order was the one getting massacred, as the Reds marched, ever slowly, but determinedly, onto their enemy. The Order was getting picked off by the Reds’ archers, systematically making the Order pincushions. When the foot troops finally reached the Order’s lines, lets just say that all from a flaming, fiery pit broke loose. Drawing their swords, the footsoldiers rammed into their enemies’ lines. The lines buckled, wavered, but then seemed to stabilize, but then were charged through, the Order being sliced through like a sword still cooling from the forge through butter. This took all of five minutes, and all while Crimson and Kelinti were watching, open jawed and motionless. Crimson finally spoke, saying “Looks like the Guards are finally getting sick of the Order going over into their jurisdiction.” What Crimson was talking about was the separate branch, but still part of, the Order of the Holy Drakis, which was set up to guard certain areas, hence the name the Guard. During recent years, the Order wanted to unify themselves, but the Guard wasn’t as keen to the idea. When the Order sent members to stir dissent among the Guard, the Guard reacted with force, and declared an edict of which if the Order trespasses into Guard protected territory, they will send a heavily armed force which will hunt the offenders to the death, even if they flee beyond the boundaries of Guard territory. “Come on”, Crimson said to Kelinti, “We have to get to the Red Mountain, we need to go around the battle.” Crimson was still remembering what Luna said to him. “All right, all right, let’s go, this battle is getting too reminiscent of the slaughter of my ‘Blades. Kelinti replied, with a sudden mournful look and what might have been a tear in one of his eyes.

Chapter 3
It was again night. Crimson could hear Kelinti snoring off somewhere in the woods, and also the various sounds that the nocturnal animals made at night. He was nestled at the base of a tree, between the roots as he leaned on the tree, looking up at the sky. He was staring one of the five moons and thinking of the words Luna uttered to him and the words in the song. Mage in the magic, win with me or face the destruction. You must recover the Elements.
“Those words, I’ve heard them somewhere before.” Crimson muttered to himself. He then suddenly remembered a happening in his childhood, and what Luna said about that. He remembered a girl from his past…..
Crimson dozed slowly off into sleep.
“Wake up, wake up,” said Kelinti while shaking Crimson, which was the first thing Crimson saw when he opened his eyes. “We have to get going. I want to kill the tea drinkers that slaughtered my band.” In this place the people who actually like the incredibly foul substance that was Crimson’s tea.
“I’m sorry” Crimson replied, as he wouldn’t say anything out of respect for the dead. Soon they were heading on their way to whatever would be put on them. The day was fine and cheerful, with the sounds of nature in full burst, the birds squawking their heads, off and the squirrels bashing each other on the heads with their nuts. The rabbits were attacking the foxes, trying to gnaw the fox tails off of their bodies. “Wait there’s something wrong here.” said Crimson as he walked along the path, watching everything happening. “No there’s not.” Kelinti replied, always attuned to nature, as he kept on walking, determined on his goal and to get on. “There definitely is.” Crimson said to himself and Kelinti, “Who are you to say it’s not? Who are you, the High Druid?” Crimson stopped in his tracks and uttered a few nonsensical words, and some seemingly meaningless waves of a hand. A blue aura similar to his earlier spell appeared, but not paralyzing anything. “What do we have here?” he said as he walked over to the source of aura. “Oh damn!” he exclaimed as he saw what it was. “Run!” he yelled to Kelinti as he threw it far away from them. There came a large BOOM! and an explosion and then a huge banner of smoke saying “Go to the Red Mountain, follow your leads. Signed, Luna.” Wow, Crimson thought to himself, her power extends beyond that dream world. Kelinti thought differently, “Who in hell is Luna!”
“I don’t know,” lied Crimson, “But we’re sure to find out soon.”
“But what if it’s a trap?”
“Isn’t it always?”
“No.”
“I know.”
There was a moment of silence, then they both silently decided to walk on. It came to night soon, and they camped and went to sleep.
Crimson saw a scene like the first dream and knew instantly that he was back. “Luna, I know that you’re there. That display was really not… required.”
Luna instantly materialized, from top to bottom, particles at a time, like sand blowing into a mold of a human body. She had a smile on her face, and was almost laughing. “I know, but I couldn’t help myself.” She then broke out laughing, all through the time still switching the forms, the young girl and the young woman.
“So, why have you called me here? I was looking forward to actually not seeing anything in my sleep tonight.”
Luna stopped laughing instantly, and only said these words, “Keep your magic eye open.”
The dream ended in a swirl of lights and color, looking kind of like the melding of the elements, the way magic is born.
“Whoa, I haven’t had an experience like that since I had a little too much of my tea.” Crimson told himself loudly. He then noticed that it was bright and sunny, and Kelinti was by the camping stove, cooking up some random sort of stew, made by whatever he could scrounge up from his pack. “Oh I remember that,” Kelinti said after hearing what Crimson had woke up saying, “We were seeing all of these weird things, like a lady who kept on changing into a child and back, and weird bursts of color.” Crimson, unfortunately, didn’t hear a word of that, as the dream gave him a major headache, and was busy rubbing his forehead to try and stop the pain. “We need to get to the Red Mountain.” Just then, something happened to Kelinti. His head jerked, and his bones started glowing. Crimson knew something was wrong. Kelinti’s voice became deep and demonic, “Crimson, you know who I am, so cut the crap. I am Demarogenazabazon, just if you forgot. We have unfinished business.” Crimson then retorted, “Ah, it looks like I have a skeleton in the closet.”
“Ha Ha , very punny. I thought you didn’t have to stoop as far down as to start using puns.
This … demon, had a long time feud with Crimson, a drinking game, where each person chose an intoxicating drink, and both had to drink that. Crimson, of course, chose his tea, and that scored an instant win for him. Dema was too incapacitated to chose another drink, so Crimson was winner by default. Crimson then drained Dema’s magic for a bit, as per the wager. “So, Dema, what caused this unexpected… visit”, if it could be called that. “Do you know what you cost me, DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU COST ME?,” Dema boomed in anger and outrage. “Ah, about, ummm, a few days of your life and three werisa of elemental capabilities.”
Dema looked dumbfounded, as he thought the werisa was exponentially larger. As fast as any demon could think, he retorted, “It’s not the werisa that matters, it’s the principle of it that counts.
“I bet that if you actually believed that, you wouldn’t be here right now, as I beat you fair and square.” Dema became more enraged than a charging bull, and of course looked like one too, as he came out of the body and into his full form, leaving Kelinti unconscious on the ground, sprawled about. Long, twisted, malicious horns came out of the top of his head, perfectly complementing his pitch black skin and howling mouth of razor sharp fangs. All of the muscles on his giant body were at least the size of elephants, and his hands were meat cleavers, with claws each a foot long. Spidery spikes seemed to be pulling from out of places on his body, on his shoulders, and all the way up and down on his back. “I am so screwed,” said Crimson as he saw what he had to face down. “You see, when you mess with the bull, you get the horns.”
“And you’re the one that said not to use puns.” Crimson said with almost a groan. Dema decided to not even dignify Crimson’s reply and instantly melded up a fireball, and hurled it at Crimson. Crimson, deciding not to be instantly vaporized in an inferno’s worth of heat, dodged out of the way. Unfortunately, in the process the fireball hit a tree, starting a forest fire like none had seen before, making sure that if Kelinti and Crimson survive this, they wouldn’t be likely to escape. With a large, booming, villain like laugh, Dema fired off another fireball. This time, rather not watching Kelinti die, as Crimson was right in front of him, Crimson decided to make a semi-last stand. He stayed in place, and started going through his magic motions again; a large type of partially physical, greased bowl with the opening facing Dema appeared. The fireball hit one side of the bowl, and slid off all the way around so that it went careening towards Dema. But sadly, that was not enough, not enough at all. An ethereal blade appeared in Dema’s hand, but thankfully, that’s when Kelinti chose to wake up. He somehow knew something was happening, so he instantly unsheathed one of his swords and jumped up, and immediately charged the way the foul stench came from, which Dema excreted as well. Slash, stab, lunge, cut, is what Kelinti did, before Dema even realized that Kelinti had moved. With the sluggishness of a dog that has just woken up, Dema tried to hit Kelinti, but instead hit the ground with enough force that a small tremor shook the forest. Using improvisation, Crimson levitated small burning twigs, and flung them through the air, which hit Dema in a flurry of pain and fire. It was truly a sight to behold, the great demon, who, if size and raw power mattered, would have won hands down, facing off against the two mismatched companions, one continuously using his magic to hit small, fiery twigs against that demon, keeping on pumping him with the almost insignificant bastions of pain, and the other constantly hitting and slashing, rend here, scratch there, all around the demons body, with such great speed that he was a blur, and all against the backdrop of the burning forest, ash flying everywhere, with branches burning off the tree limbs and the dim, flickering orange light, always there, casting shadows that are there one minute, gone the next. Unfortunately, things don’t turn out exactly like in the stories you might hear. Or maybe they do. Kelinti, realizing that they were doing nothing to defeat Dema, decided to go inside his gullet, sword slashing all the way in and down his throat and then tearing apart his stomach. Crimson thought he heard Kelinti say something as he ran down, but he couldn’t quite make it out. The demon Demarogenazabazon swayed side to side, yet still not dead, Crimson, by chance, sent a flaming twig dart straight through Dema’s eye, instantly killing him. A hole appeared through Dema’s abdomen, which Crimson rushed through, ignoring the forest that was burning down around him. Crimson rushed in, looking for any sign of Kelinti. Sadly, he did not survive. Kelinti had been burned in the stomach acid, and the best Crimson could find of him was a charred corpse. Relying on magic that might kill him, Crimson grabbed hold of the corpse, and teleported his way out of there. The demon Demarogenazabazon was dead.
* * *
Crimson was staring at a beautifully built grave. The grieving process was over for him, but staring at it still sometimes brought tears to his eyes. It was four seasons later from the time the demon fell. The gravestone was not really a stone, just a nice piece of wood, carved out of oak, painted with markings of the language of Kelinti’s homeland. The platform it was built on was a stone square, with openings in each of the corners to make a pond. The entire thing was built on a small watering hole, where everyone would see it and everyone would respect it. The trees were in bloom, and a small, pink leaf floated onto Crimsons lap. The area was, as before said, beautiful. There was a feeling of peace and serenity there that Crimson had felt no where else. He thought of what had happened after his last expenditure of magic. He had woken up in a small town, just recovering from a recent bandit attack. They had, even though they had just recuperated their losses, helped him recover. Their wizard had made a sort of time stopping sarcophagus that kept Kelinti just the way he was, with decay never affecting him. When Crimson was just about to leave the town, the wizard gave him two objects, other than the coffin. One was a cube, that, when thrown at a pool of water, created the stone grave, the other, the wooden headstone. Why, or how he knew, Crimson never asked, and the wizard never said. Some slight noise disturbed Crimson’s reverie. He turned his head up, and saw Luna, walking in from the right side, walking up right next to the grave. She looked at it, and then stared for a second, straight into his soul. She then suddenly and totally vanished. Words slowly drifted into his head, spoken in Luna’s voice, The last thing he said, the last thing Kelinti said, was, ‘It is finished’ Knowing that Crimson would know what she meant, she continued, He was a good man, and hopefully his death wasn’t painful. Crimson heard these words, and felt strangely comforted. Just spontaneously deciding to go, he stood up, brushed off his robes, and started on his way towards the sunset, but not before noticing a small fox trailing behind him, which had a ruffle of orangish-red fur and a scar going straight down his right eye. Hmm, Crimson thought, Maybe he’s not so dead after all, as he went beyond the grave’s clearing into whatever place fate would take him next.





VOCABULARY

Crimson's tea: One of the most foul substances in the entire island area. Unfortunatly it is intoxicating and addicting, usually after the first try. If you you aren't used to it, it wil knock you out for a few week. Kelinti was no subject to this effect because he immediatly spit it out, and Dema wasn't either because, he is not from that plane, and such the effect was weakened. It tastes like feces.
Werisa: A unit of measuring the capibilites of a alchem to combine elements together