Post by Lantlas on May 20, 2006 13:53:21 GMT -5
Orange and green contrast a bright blue sky. The flames are jumping beyond the enormous trees; a destruction of wilderness and habitat for all to behold. Within the forest, homes are being evacuated. Many blue-haired beings are running for their lives, grabbing anything they can to save from the raging inferno. An explosion is heard, and the Elven Doctor’s home has just exploded as a result of all the chemicals inside.
A few parentless children are wandering about, screaming at the top of their lungs. It is unknown whether their parents have fled to save themselves, or they did not escape from their homes in time. Several of the running adults with a free hand manage to pick some of them up and get them away just as the flame wall approaches. Footsteps are heard all around as they’re all frantically trying to save themselves. Leaves crunching, branches breaking, and horrendous screaming all fill the air. A new sound enters the mix, but one not of good intentions. A whoosh of air, and next is the sound of rock splitting a tree. The beings have reached a clearing, and they begin to form a circle with the youngest in the middle. A look of fear crosses their faces as archers appear from the brush in every direction, locked and loaded.
The leader in robes pulls up on horseback, and several henchmen help him dismount. He removes his helmet of armor, and there stands a dark-haired man with a long beard. As he scans the crowd of trapped beings, an evil smile covers his face.
“Who is your leader?” he demands. Several look around at each other, but no one says a word. “The leader of this rebellion, come forth!” he again demands.
“We do not have a leader,” one of the beings responds. “We are one cohesive unit.”
“Lies,” one of the henchmen interrupts. “They are covering for someone.”
“How do you know,” the leader asks his associate.
“The turncoat informed us of their undying loyalty towards their commander,” he cockily explains. “The fool would not tell me the identity of this leader either. Therefore, he suffered the consequences.”
“You hear this, rebels? If you didn’t, listen up now; you either tell us the name and whereabouts of your leader, or die. The choice is yours.”
A few moments of silence pass, and the leader is about to signal for the archers to release their arrows. Eyes suddenly shift and a few hands point in the air. A figure flies in with the help of a rope, and pulls out two swords on the way down. Taking out the two henchmen with one attack, the leader falls back as the rest of his soldiers attack. The defending beings pull out any weapons they have to battle their enemies as the fire burns behind them. Blood is flying everywhere as the obvious leader of the rebels is taking men out two and three at a time.
His eyes glance to the clearing, where his kin seem to be losing the battle from being outnumbered. He dives into the center as two of his own lose their heads along with their lives. The outer wall of warriors is growing thin, and the enemies are getting close to the children. The rebel leader sees the leader of the enemy trying to get through to the children, and he loses his mind. Slaying off his enemies fiercely, he meets the leader head on, and the surviving of both armies almost stop to watch this epic showdown of the best both sides have to offer. Every strike is met with a parry, and every trick is seen coming and blocked.
The rebel leader begins to gain the upper hand! With the support of his followers, he has his opponent on the retreat! The duel looks to be won when a backswing from the leader’s sword slips from his hand and goes directly into a child! The rebel leader pushes past his enemy and runs to the aid of the child, who dies a few seconds later. A scream is heard, and a riot breaks out between the two forces and at some point, the rebel leader is knocked out while trying to protect the surviving children.
A few hours later, with trees and ash surrounding the clearing, the rebel leader awakens. Bodies lay all around, but the enemy’s leader has escaped with his horse. The rebel leader scans the bodies, his breath rate increasing rapidly. He removes his protective helmet, and long strands of blue hair turning purple at the ends flow into the wind. He falls to his knees, realizing he is the only survivor of this raid.
“No!”
I fell to the floor from the bed and swing frantically before I realized I was dreaming yet again. I’d figured with the departure of Eldarin, my sleep would finally be free of torment and metaphor. Yet again, I’d been proven wrong.
Something seemed odd about the dream that had just run through my otherwise-peaceful rest. Everything was very familiar, although I knew for certain I’d never seen it before. The days of a warrior’s battle were long gone, but I thought I recognized some of the faces in the rebel’s army. With the removal of the battle helmet, it was quite obvious that the rebel leader was of the Elven race. He even had blue hair… turning to… purple at the ends… It couldn’t have been… could it?
Before I could continue further, there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find Blake Smith standing there, and I immediately know what he wants. “Here for an interview, my friend?”
“What kind of employee would I be if I didn’t interview the challenger for the world title?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re employed here, Blake.”
“And it’s not like you interview with anyone else here, Lantlas.”
“Point taken,” I admitted. “Let’s do this.”
I stepped out of my locker room and walked a few rooms down. Blake allowed his camera crew to set up as he took a seat opposite me. This was a sit-down interview, an intricate perspective on the one about whom the fans likely knew little. Despite my months here, I was still considered very odd and peculiar by the majority, although their support seemed to be increasing in the arena. Finally, it appeared he was ready, and he pulled out his notes for the questions. “Lantlas, it’s certainly a pleasure to once again sit down and speak with you.”
“Pleasure’s mine, Blake,” I politely responded.
“First things first, for those who are new to the PCW, wrestlers and fans alike, would you please give us a little summary of who you are and where you came from?”
“Even if you haven’t given me a second glance,” I replied, “you’ve likely heard the name of the Elven Warrior being passed around the locker room or the message boards in some form or other. The mystique of one who seems to live in a fantasy world can be a bit twisted to the mind, but once you get past that, all I ask is that you note the work I’ve done in a PCW ring since I arrived here. My name is Lantlas Anduril, and I grew up in Munich, Germany on a British air force base. My brother Neovan, whom some of you got to meet before his tragic passing, grew up there with me. Most recently before my PCW arrival, I spent three years in the infamous HHW, led by Al Laiman and Joey Cranston. I was one of a select few to capture their world championship in their seven years of existence. My first few weeks in PCW saw the capture of the tag team championships with my former best friend Seth Sinn. Many of the competitors we took out during this time are no longer employed, and therefore mean nothing to the new and eager ears. Names like Tony Brass, Slither, Austin Majesky, Chrissy Johnson, Maddog, but hey, one of those names is still around. The Byrd, who has more heart than almost anyone I’ve ever seen. But anyway, I got a bit off topic there; the point is, plain and simple, whether you like me or you hate me, you cannot deny that I worked my way up from the very bottom and earned this world championship match with one Ace Anderson without a shadow of a doubt.”
Blake looked down at his notes again, then turned back to me. “Your record sets at a very impressive 14-2, those two losses of course coming via a non-title singles match against your opponent at Collision Course, and a controversial decision where you and the Prophet dropped the tag team titles to Willard and Loco. However, which of your fourteen victories was the toughest?”
“There’s no denying that I’ve had some very competitive and tough contests in the last few months. While my win against Ace Anderson surprised everyone who thought he’d crush me in seconds, the way that match ended was more of a disappointment than my loss. I think the toughest man to beat was Anthony Douglas, because of how ruthless he is, and because of how he never gives up. I’ve defeated him three times in my career, but son of a bitch, he doesn’t let up. If he stays on his current track, he’s going to be something. Then, of course, some other very tough matches came against Johnny Vivacious, Mr. Showtime, and the short-lived Nightmare 2 Society, the headline match of the most recent Pay-Per-View. There’s no doubt, however, that my upcoming contest will be by far the toughest, most competitively grueling match not only of my PCW career, but of likely my entire wrestling career as well. Ace Anderson may have seen the error of his ways when it comes to his personal life, but in that ring, I have no doubt that he’s still the same vicious competitor who ended my undefeated streak here in PCW, and I will treat him just the same, whether his name is Jason, Ace, Greatness in the Flesh, or Tonyono McDiechterschtein.”
“Do you feel you should’ve gotten this title shot sooner than you did?”
“No, Blake. I started at the very bottom of the totem pole and worked my way up inch by inch. For that, I’m damn proud that I was able to get this far. Some people around here think they deserve that chance the minute they walk in the door because of what they’ve accomplished other places in the past. It doesn’t work that way, and for the fact that I earned my way up to this match through four of the worst months of my life eases any doubt I’ve ever had about whether or not I belong here. Had I gotten this match in my second or third week, I would’ve had no preparation for the surprise that would’ve come my way. When I first got here, I thought Ace Anderson was exactly the same as every other arrogant asshole I’ve seen in this business; merely talking a bigger game than he played, if you will. The time that I’ve spent here, and the feud that’s developed over several months has proved the opposite of what I expected, and had I not learned that lesson before receiving a world title match with him, I would’ve been crushed worse than Blade Lionheart in a five-on-one handicapped match.”
“Now that you’ve had a few months to know your employers as well as you knew your previous ones, how do you feel about the management here in Pure Class Wrestling?”
“Easily the most efficient federation of which I’ve ever been a part. The heads say they’re going to do something, and they do it. There’s no bullshit, there’s no lies, and there’s never any question about where you stand. As I said earlier, I had to start from the very bottom, and this was told to me up front the first day I negotiated my contract. They gave me my chance to prove myself, and as I continued to do so, they slowly provided me the opportunity to truly showcase all I could really do. For that chance, and for them allowing me to be a part of quite possibly the biggest match in PCW championship history, I am grateful. Some people may consider me an ass-kisser for saying that, but it’s all about knowing where you stand. None of this would be anything but a fantasy without them, and despite my several qualms with them on occasion, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Where do you see yourself six months from now?”
“In that time, I hope to at least have been a one-time PCW champion. I’ll do my damndest to see that the championship victory is at Collision Course, but if that’s not the case, it certainly will not be the end of my contendership. With the ever-changing talent pool, and the increase of truly talented superstars making their way to the top just as I have, I’m sure I’ll have new competition to deal with, and the odds are unlikely that I’ll manage to defeat every single one of them every single time. However, stranger things have happened, like a rookie achieving a twelve-match winning streak… or an elf being taken seriously beyond a mere tag team championship competitor. Seth Sinn and his new, albeit false, inspiration, I’m quite sure he’ll be after the belt sooner or later, and the one time I had to face that man, it took everything I had to put him away. Also, in six months, I likely see changes in how people are identified. The way Ace is coming around, maybe the time will come when he guest stars on the Daily Newsbreak! But that’s the future, and the only future I’m seriously worried about at this current time is just a few days from now. The make-or-break moment of my career, the true chance to back up everything I’ve ever said; not everyone gets this chance, and I don’t plan on blowing it.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to say to Ace Anderson?”
“As a matter of fact there is,” I replied as I looked towards the camera. “Ace, you and I are two talented competitors at the best of our game who now respect each other more than hate each other. A lot has changed since you and I first learned of each other, and hopefully that change can be for the good. You and I are going to be a part of history, I hope you realize this. Whether you like it or not, you and I are going to be associated with each other as two of the greatest to ever collide on a PCW Pay-Per-View. I’m glad you’re starting to see through the image you’ve portrayed for yourself since I’ve known you. Your father would be proud.”
“You know Ace’s father?”
“Eldarin, son of Galathan.”
“No… of course not… but I’ve, um… heard about him.”
“Eldarin, you have failed your people…”
“Blake…”
“You’ve let the children die…”
“I think I’ve gotta go… I’m not feeling so good.”
“And you’re probably working for them, aren’t you?”
I stepped away from the interview, leaving Blake with a confused look on his face. The voice that echoed through my head was growing louder and louder.
“Failure you are, Eldarin! Failure!”
I ran back to my locker room, covering my ears.
“Tear down these walls, Eldarin! Come on!”
The images from the dream were coming back to me. If this was an event that really happened, I was quite sure I could find it documented somewhere. Sitting down at the computer, I logged into search engine, and typed in the name “Eldarin”. One result came up, highlighting a historical document from the year 1582. The page was a summary of the events.
“In the year 1582, a small village in the forests of what is present-day South Carolina, was burned to the ground by European settlers. A peculiar quality of this, as opposed to the many other massacres that occurred during the several hundred years of colonialism, was this village of Cathdesalantis was not a Native American settlement. Although laughed off by many historians, it is believed that the small group of occupants who refused to obey European command were Elven. This would insinuate that the novel written by Darin, Lane (see bibliography) was based on truth instead of being a fictional tragedy.”
Lane Darin? I scrolled to the bottom of the page, and found the listing of the book…
Darin, L. “The Elvish Tale” 1611.
Darin, L… L. Darin… Eldarin! And Lane was the name I took in those dreams I'd been having for the last few months! Perhaps there was more to this than I thought! Perhaps in this book, if I could find it, I could truly find out where I came from! Maybe find out who my real parents were, and if the dream of the massacre I had was something that really happened! The Elvish Tale really began long ago!
Another knock at the door startled me. I groaned as I turned off the computer screen. “Blake, I told you I wasn’t feeling well,” I started as I opened the door. I stopped in my tracks as I saw Kieran Evenstar on the other side. “Kieran? What are you doing here?”
Kieran stepped in and I quickly shut the door behind her. “So you’ve figured everything out?” she inquired.
“Yes I have, and thank you for making me do this on my own.”
“Think nothing of it,” Kieran laughed. “It was a journey that would only be effective if done on your own. With my help, it would’ve been meaningless.”
“Thank you, seriously Kieran… Thank you.”
“Lantlas, both Devon and I have always seen the potential in you. However, we’ve also noticed that a lot of people probably presume you’re never happy. That's not true; you’re just never content. Because contentment is stagnation, and stagnation is atrophy. You need constant growth. You’re a realist, in the truest sense of the word. You see things from all sides, but you’re expressive - to the point where you’re misunderstood to be opinionated - to compensate, you try your best not to interfere in anyone's life - including Devon’s and Terry’s. But you know, deep down, that you could very easily become the kind of father that would. You’ve been hurt - at least a half dozen times by at least a half dozen girls, and you’re still not sure what to do with that pain. What I’m looking at is one of the gentlest of males on the face of the planet, but you won't let anyone see it… not even me. But I see it anyway, and I think that's what scares you the most. You thrive on conflict, though you don't really like it. You thrive on love, but you perceive it as one of the greatest evils. You’re conflicted… in almost every single way.”
“You’re very perceptive,” I admitted. “What else do you see?”
“Underneath it all is a drive. Like me, you care deeply about a world that doesn't want you. At the same time, you’re still willing to give so much of yourself to protect it, even if they are not truly your kin. You see the good in everyone, and in many such times, it earns you the pain you’ve known since a very young age. I can promise, however, that it will pay off when it matters the most... in fact, it has.”
“How so?”
Kieran stood up as she walked towards the door. “So long have you seen the dark side of fate because of its balance, you were unable to see the blessing that came from it.”
“How can it be a blessing? I changed fate to save the life of my best friend’s wife. They’re now divorced, he’s turned on me, and her life has likely fallen apart worse than it already had the night she was attacked.”
“Once you’ve changed one aspect of fate,” she continued, “things may be extremely similar, but they are not exactly the same as they once were.”
“What do you mean? What has changed?”
Kieran opened the door, and a young, blonde-haired girl walked in. My heart began to jump; those blue eyes were strikingly similar to…
“Miss Anduril, this is the one I told you about. The one who took care of you before the doctor found your miracle cure. This is Lantlas, Emerald.” A smile that could brighten the darkest of hearts crossed her face, and she ran towards me with an ever-strong embrace. Still in a major state of disbelief, my eyes glanced at Kieran, and for the first time, I saw her smile as she walked out the door.
“Vati, can you tell me about the Elvish Tale?”
I smiled, as I knew I had opened a whole new world about which I needed to learn myself. “I sure can,” I replied, “we can walk down that path together.”
THE END
“CONFLICTED; AN ELVEN BEGINNING” COMING SOON