ToL » The Chronicles of Anything » Eldermark 1 - Saga 6, Eldermark

Eldermark 1 - Saga 6, Eldermark

*

YOYOY smiled and sighed amidst the dusty air of the in-between lands. Outward from all around him were vast expanses of apparent desert, of middle-of-nowhere, of tumbleweeds and hazy sunsets; however, he had spotted it—the gateway into the Realm of Anything.

“And who do we have here?”

The Chronicler tread briskly now, smiling widely at the sight of an old friend. Bedecked in ever-changing garb adorned with odd bits of flora and fauna alike stood DruidOverlord with a smile of his own. “Where have you been, Y?”

“Oh, you know, camp, or something. Whatever. What’s up?!” The scribe approached the druidic overlord in a fair jog before embracing him. The embraced responded, “I imagine you’ll find out soon enough. As for myself, Siege recruited me for border patrol.”

YOYOY laughed and shook his head, patting the Druid on the shoulder. “Like it wasn’t enough letting you be a Mod all that time ago, eh?” At this, he playfully punched DO in the chest. The Overlord chuckled. “That’s right. So don’t let me keep you.”

DruidOverlord bowed slightly. The gates behind him then began to open with a loud sort of clanking and wrenching of metal. Soon enough the entryway was wide, and YOY stared ahead in marvel at the usual hustle-and-bustle of the realm he was long used to. He felt goosebumps arise on his arm, even under his cloak. He turned to his for-the-moment companion. “It is a shame that we once fought. Farewell. I’ll see you around, I suspect.”

The border patroller merely nodded and allowed passage before shutting the massive gate.

*

Within some abode two married no-name Anythingers were engaged in a game. Through its plays, they drank ale and had general merriment. They played and chortled and had a good time. They grew hungry. One rose to fetch some munchies.

He was a heavier guy, his footfalls plodding along the floor as he sought the foodstuffs. A pair of meaty hands found a pair of satchels, each filled with potato chippings. He smiled as he ground his own homegrown pepper into a small bottle. “Season to taste,” he happily murmured to his self.

The man then turned and briskly plodded back to the other room where he believed his wife was waiting, but his belief was wrong. Or, at least, it was wrong in essence, in principle. The body of his true love remained, but in its thoroughly bloody condition no one could doubt that the personality was missing.

He was in shock. He fell to his knees, dropping the sacks, an eyebrow quirkily twitching. A crimson liquid was still dribbling from a well-slit neck mere feet away.

It was only later that anyone would notice that the fine crossbow in the corner of the home was quite missing, along with a vial of vile black liquid, a trio of silver coins, a pair of fine leather shoes, and a child’s favorite snowglobe.

*

MDTailz audibly gasped as someone suddenly stepped in front of him, stopping him in his literal tracking before the surprise appearance exclaimed “I’m a spaz!”

Tailz rolled his eyes and simply stepped aside of the still-grinning figure of lumpin.

*

The penguin tore through the sky, its feathers fluttering aloud in the near-noon day. It bore a manila envelope in its jagged beak. The envelope bore, in the spot for its return address, one simple word: OWNER.

Kelanor did not even raise his gaze, gently extending his hand forward. The sun beat on his squire’s attire. The bird crash-landed through the alleyway, arriving at the corner building Kel was currently nonchalantly leaning against. The Mod curtly drew the envelope into his hand and motioned with the other, bidding bye-bye birdy.

*

In the hallowed hall of a forgotten cathedral knelt a dark knight of the Deverenian order. His armor was full, plated, folded thrice in its making. His sword had tasted the death of a thousand beings and more, its blade only ever the sharper. Under the helmet no mortal eye could see the face within, but nonetheless lurked the person of DarkKnightZach.

The dreaded warrior swore under his breath as the creature swept in, its caw and cry echoing throughout the structure in which they now existed. It called to him.

“Zach.”

The swordsman cried out in return, a primal yell that shook the very walls around him. He beat at his own helmet, raving as he rolled to the floor, a leg flailing and kicking to the side. The winged wretch descended, closer.

“Zach.”

“Stop!”

The man drew his blade and rose to his steel-clad feet, whirling about in a spectacular melee display. The animal began to cruelly cackle in a manner most malevolent, taking to flight around the whirling warrior. Each strike missed, each blow was not to be.

The former Fellowship member knelt once again, deep and dark noises emerging from the depths of his helm. The familiar creature stood next to him, hoarsely whispering, “Face it, Dark Knight. I own you, body and soul, mind and otherwise.”

The knight wept bitterly. The creature continued its cackling.

*

“Welcome home.”

Acid_Flux gave YOYOY a quick hug and withdrew as Y could only continue to take in his surroundings. The NoThRoG crossed his arms over his light armor, various weapons on his person. The Chronicler shook his head, patting his metal club loosely at his belt. “Yeah…”

They stood outside of a popular town tavern, which had formerly been under the ownership of Drexlin but now was run by tMmM. The scribe had not visited in a fair while, but imagined it still retained its flavor. Or, at least, he certainly hoped so. Countless memories had formed throughout that bar. Flux led him inside.

The interior of the establishment was not as dimly lit as he had remembered. Scents of ale and odd nuts freely wafted. All about, denizens of Anything were at the serious business of having a good time. Rousing laughter and songs could be heard, with the occasional raucous argument as well. The atmosphere was nothing but pleasant and warm, even in its taste. The tending dwarf’s eyes lit up as he spotted the entrance of YOYOY and bode greeting. “Took you long enough. This one’s on the house.”

A frothy mug of… something hit the bar as Flux and Y took seating. “Well thank you, kind friend. Now tell me – what’s up? Really now. What have I missed around here?”

“Well—“

Before the kindly dwarven keeper could respond, an atrociously loud sound ripped through the establishment. It was a high-pitched, piercing, screaming sort of noise. The patrons collectively cried out in pain and held their heads tightly, wincing in various wretched manners. An enchanted sort of voice then spoke through, very powerful, in the ears and minds of all within.

“Ah, now that I have your attention… all citizens of Anything are to report to the town square immediately for a special announcement. I look forward to seeing you there. Thank you for your cooperation.”

YOYOY frowned, rubbing his left temple. “Was that…”

The dwarf Mod ahead of him nodded. “Siege, yeah. We should get going.” He then solemnly began walking around to exit.

The scribe of Lore looked around, idly watching as the denizens began shuffling out the saloon doors. Some were mumbling under their breath, others inquisitive and curious.

*

“You heard the man. Come on, keep moving.”

CardinalFang, Mod of Anything, patted the moderator blade at his side. Its scabbard glimmered for a moment. He then patted his chest, causing his three-piece suit to morph into a set of heavy leather armor.

“… seriously, just… just walk. I don’t want to have to do this.”

Ahead of him, in the shadows behind one of the more popular political lounges, sat a thin elf with startling blue eyes and long white hair. He sported fine clothing, fit for a rogue, or a bard, or perhaps a rogue bard. A widely brimmed hat topped off his outfit.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

Lesthios stood, spat on the street, and began treading toward the square. Fang spotted a hatchet at his belt. He followed, for the moment.

*

The very Luck of Ebisu ran at an eager pace—before tripping. He abruptly fell face-first into a thick puddle of chunky mud. The cleric managed a sigh before swearing under his breath.

*

In the middle of the downtown Anything square stood a platform. It ultimately amounted to little more than a soapbox, its wood splintered in places and its nails occasionally askew. The important detail for the moment was that Siege911 stood atop it. His hands were crossed behind his back, beneath a darkly crimson cape. Kelanor stood in front of him, on ground level below, staring blankly ahead into the crowd with intensely cold eyes.

Nearby were a couple public bulletin boards. The square had quaint cobblestone streeting, a tree here or there, a pleasant park setting to one side. Benches were around, of various kinds. It was upon one of these that YOYOY soon found a seat and, for the moment, settled for observation.

He watched as the entirety of Anything began to assemble around the platform. It was an amazing sight, really. He thought he spotted a familiar face or two he had yet to reconnect with, and many others were complete strangers.

Soon enough, the vast crowd was settling in, and quieting down. An object bolted through the sky—soon revealed to be BoyHostage, grinning as he landed beside the platform to the side of Kelanor. The Admin wore a costume befitting of a superhero, with its brightly colored cape and tights alike.

Siege911 raised a hand, and any remaining murmurs silenced before he spoke.

“Welcome! As I said, I have a special announcement. Throughout the years in the world of Lore, we have gone through many changes, all of them upgrading us to the pinnacle point we have managed to attain today.”

Someone behind YOYOY grunted. Siege continued, his voice booming across the square.

“I am always looking for ways to improve Lore, and to better serve its people.”

Someone else chuckled.

“Today I speak to you in a place that is dear to my heart, the realm of Anything. Your citizenry is rich. It is rich with history, with tradition, with people who have contributed to our fair society for a very long time. I have decided I want to give something back to those special persons among us.”

All ears were attentive here.

“To those who have given a special amount of their valuable time to serving their realm, or to others who have managed another sort of unique prestige, I want to thank you, and honor you. Just as you have clearly set yourself apart as among the elite, I want to clearly denote those notable denizens with a distinguished mark. I present to you… The Eldermark.”

At this, he held up an object in his hand. It appeared to be a red disc, with golden trim. Across its face read “ELDER” in silver lettering.

The crowd mostly began to cheer and applaud. Many of those who were not already standing now did so. Some, like YOYOY, were more hesitant.

“Standing among you is a man who has been here longer than, well, any of us. It is due to his long-standing denizenry and his outstandingly consistent positive contribution to Anything that I find it fitting to present him with the first Eldermark. BoyHostage will now give the very first Eldermark badge to… Kelanor! Congratulations!”

BoyHostage and Kelanor turned to each other, the Administrator holding the badge high for all to see. The crowd roared and cheered and applauded once again.

*

“I am perfectly capable of putting it on myself, thank you.”

Kel’s stoic face retained its intensity as BoyHostage held back a scowl. The Admin, in the public eye, forced his cheesy grin to remain. They spoke under the citizens’ din.

“I could squash you like a bug, Kel. You hear me? A pathetic little bug.”

The Anything Mod held his arm outstretched, palm up, in a gesture of reception and acceptance, awaiting the placement of the badge in his hand.

“If you think true power lies in how highly you rank in Lore, you are sorely mistaken. I may be pathetic to you here, but I am not ignorant. You are fortunate I showed up for this absurd publicity farce.”

BoyHostage growled, even as he grinningly placed the Eldermark in Kelanor’s hand. The veteran Anythinger continued.

“Face it, Boy – You are nothing more than CJ’s little lapdog, and a clay figure held in the collective hand of the citizenry. What would you have done had I not shown up? Nothing. There was nothing you could have done. You would have simply found someone else, because roughing me up would be so bad for your precious image.”

Kelanor firmly shoved the mark against his chest over his heart. It stuck, and as he withdrew his hand the crowd renewed their cheers. By now the for-show grin on BoyHostage’s face was lost, and the underlying scowl threatened to take fully over. Kelanor continued.

“If there were anything proper and appropriate in this paper-thin ceremony, you would be licking the Anything dirt from my boots, whelp. Now, I believe you should be going.”

In a fitting and sharp twist of irony that no one else would appreciate, it was now Kelanor who was smiling to the pleasure of the crowd, while BoyHostage’s fists clenched in frustrated withholding, knuckles whitening.

Siege911 held up both his hands.

“Thank you! Have a nice day!”

He then disappeared in a brilliant flash of light, and BoyHostage reluctantly took off into the sky, a crimson bolt piercing the clouds above.

Kelanor remained standing by the platform alone, sighing and shaking his head, even as denizens began to walk up to him. As a mob, they shouted affirmations and compliments, along with hundreds of congratulations. He politely smiled and did his part for the meantime.

*

© Eric Bailey

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