It was a cold day in Shallam. A cold day indeed. It was very rare that
there were days like this in the East. It was normally blazing hot, but
today, the world was a slate of white. The weather had been strange for
the last few months, the clouds pouring rain, and throwing out long
brilliantly bright streak of lightning, and it only recently began
snowing. Brother Lanark, standing about 5�9�, pulled his worn grey cloak
about him, trying to ignore the cold. His weathering to the elements
wasn�t helping much today, not in weather like this. He looked up,
longing to see the sun again, feel its heat warming his bug-like Horkval
armor plates again. Their blood red color didn�t shine now, but the pure
white snowflakes stood out in stark contrast to his maroon plates.
Though they were like armor, they were organic, and he could still feel
the bite of winter through them. He wasn�t dull to pain. He shook the
snow from his hairless head, and trudged further down Eastern Row, to
the guildhall of the Sentaari.
He opened the guildhall door, trying to slip in without much snow
following him in, or too many eyes being drawn to him. He was tired, and
wanted nothing more than to lie down.
�Ah, Brother! You�ve finally come back! How did your trip to Kamliekan
go?� questioned a fellow monk named Chiendo. He stands about 7�5�, with
the appearance of a bipedal lizard. Tan and maroon scales cover his
body, blending to nearly invisible at places, other sticking out almost
like razors. Huge muscles ripple across his body, yet he moves with an
unearthly grace. Golden eyes with red irises seem to pierce to your very
soul, but indicate a glint of mischief.
�Not as well as I�d like�it was very crowded, and I didn�t get much
done.�
�I�m sorry to hear that. I have something for you to do. I�m sorry, and
I know you�re very tired, but this needs to be done. We�ve gotten word
that Ashtan is stealing orphans from within Shallam�s walls again, so we
need to send an elite squad to recover them. The viziers have chosen us,
and I have chosen you, Silvos, my son, and Romanovsky. I�ve chosen them,
because you all get along so well, and will watch out for each other.
You will lead this squad into the heart of darkness, and recover the
orphans. Meet up with your two comrades at Delos, they�ll fill you in on
the other specifics.�
And with that, Lanark began yet another journey. Perhaps this one
wouldn�t be so trying.
He soon arrived at the bridge before Delos, only to find a blizzard
obscured my vision there as well. Silvos called out to me, and I fumbled
about, managing to get near enough to see them.
Silvos stood near 7�2�, Xoran like his father, but his scales were a
dark green color, strange for a son�s scale color not to be passed down
from his father�s. He was also well muscled, but he had emerald colored
eyes. Other than those slight differences, he looked like his father in
a new skin. Romanovsky stood only a slight bit taller than Silvos,
another Xoran, but with silver scales. Xorans had no distinguishable
features that Horkvals could tell, other than their scale color.
�Alright, so what�s going on?� Lanark asked as he craned his neck
upwards to look into Silvos� eyes.
�Chi filled you in on pretty much all there was to know. We go into
Ashtan, get the orphans, get out. Got the candles?� He nodded, and held
them up. For some reasons, the orphans of Shallam seemed to love votive
candles, and would follow whoever gave one to them.
�Let�s go.� He said to his comrades, and they set off towards Ashtan,
Bastion of the North.
They soon arrived at the gates of Ashtan, after traveling through the
dense bog in front of Ashtan, and walked in with no resistance. It was
snowing there as well, but that wasn�t so peculiar, as Ashtan was nearer
to the tundra than Shallam.
�So where are we supposed to find them?� Romanovsky questioned, peering
about the city, watching for trouble.
�I think the �Loving Hearts� Orphanage. Northwest side of Ashtan.�
Silvos replied, also watching the shadows. Suddenly from out of the
darkness, a Shadowsnake and 2 Ashuran monks sprang forth, apparently
informed of their mission. The fight lasted no more than 3 minutes,
Silvos quickly dispatching the Shadowsnake, and Romanovsky one of the
monks. Lanark disabled the other monk from walking, and just then
realized he was a Horkval.
�Brother�� he pleaded in his native tongue, �Don�t kill me�I beg of
you�I wish to defect��
�How odd, a disloyal Ashtan monk.� Silvos chimed in from over my
shoulder.
�What do you wish me to do?� Lanark pondered, speaking his native
tongue, not letting Silvos and Romanovsky hear the conversation.
�Show me the Light,� He begged of Lanark. And they did. They sat for
near an hour, telling him the wonders of Righteousness. Lanark had shown
him something he had never been shown before. Compassion. He believed he
had changed.
They soon resumed our journey into Ashtan, the brother monk thanking
them profusely as they began walking. It was not 5 minutes later that a
large fist of Ashurans, Shadowsnakes, Occultists, and Warlocks assaulted
their squad of four. Silvos and Romanovsky got away, but at the cost of
Lanark�s life. They destroyed him, without remorse, without pity,
without mercy, without compassion. He failed the orphans, he failed the
Sentaari, he failed Shallam, he failed his friends, and he failed
himself. In the end, he fought valiantly, but his bloodied and broken
body could not stand the onslaught of enemies. He had tried to show them
compassion, and failed.


***NOTE*** This story does not reflect the author's views on compassion,
Righteousness, or anything else that is bashed. Besides Ashtan. *OOC* i
had to write a story for a clas I am taking, and it had to involve
someone failing because of a fatal character flaw. I do not think
compassion is a character flaw at all, but blind compassion, i.e. not
realizing a person hasn't changed, is. Thanks everyone, especially
Silvos, Chiendo, and Romanovsky!

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Glacian, in the year 351 AF.