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Trilogy of the Last Kingdoms



Corrine Bailey strummed lazily on the strings of her lyre keeping a gentle but
steady rythm. Wonderful sounds erupted from the instrument itself, and the atmosphere
in the city of Aurallyn seemed to dance along with it. Her hair hung down in a long,
flower entwined braid of gold. Her eyes were a deep tear drop blue. Her clothing was
a deep maroon red, that was tatooed in many different colored threads. To her the
threads told tales. Tales of great heroes, who's courage had won many victories in
great wars. The threads also told tales of joy, love, adventure and beauty. The bard
had begun to sing along with the song she played. Her voice was magical and
glorious, as it flowed from her lips. Aurallyn was in great merriment.
Hidden in the depths of Aurallyn, a theif was busy tending to his daily activities.
His dagger was out and ready to slit the throat of whoever attempted to stand in his path.
Swiftly he hurried in and out of waves of people, keeping a keen eye out for some who
seemed rich and could provide him with decent amount of goods. His face was covered
by a midnight black veil, and all that showed were his smoke gray eyes. He had slighly
pointed ears, which showed his elven half. His name was Matavim Eaglewing, a half-elf
of Aurallyn. Matavim despised his human half, mostly because it put him in the pits of
society, and made him an outcast to the world. His father Gorith Eaglewing had wandered
into the wood elven lands one tragic day and had fallen in love with Matavim's mother,
Cirrinelle Mistlevale. Years later, they were blessed with a baby boy in which they named
Matavim. Both were a bit shocked when they discovered that their son had the same
pointed ears as Cirrinelle, but features of Gorith. As Matavim grew older, he was downcast
by others. Even his parents shunned him for what he was and Matavim fled. Freak.
They called him. He's a demon I tell you. One of those hell children he is. Part elf
part human how very strange indeed. Were whispers he heard as he passed by others in
the cities. Eventually, he half-elf had gotten used to these remarks, and when people
whispered about him, he mearly kept his head bent low.
One morning, as he was tending to his theiver, he bumped into a high-elf, by the name
of Ninde Lossehelin. Ninde was a cleric, trained in the high-elven city of Kerrisdale. Since
the beginning Matavim felt a sense of secruity with the elf. Her eyes always seemed to
look right back at his when he spoke to her. As if she was really listening to whatever he
told her. Whenever the two would venture into the city, she always stood to the right of
him. Sometimes, when a passer buyer would give Matavim a strange sinister look, and
Ninde's hand would fly to the sheath of her sword, ready to pull it out if she noticed Matavim
feeling threatened. Ninde was not too much older than Matavim, but he looked
up to her as a mother figure. Of course Ninde and Matavim were not alone on their
journies. Ninde had an old friend who traveled along with them. His name was Grendel
Blackforge. He was a knight and a very skilled one at that. Just as Ninde, Matavim also
looked up to the dwarf. He was wise, but, as most dwarves
may be, careless and ruthless. Sometimes he was so ruthless he nearly got the three of them
killed with one snotty remark. I was only statin' my opinion, it was no insult. He would
say. But Matavim adored them both with all his heart.
The sun shone down upon Matavim with it's warm smile. Matavim greeted it with
a cheery grin as he wandered the city. His boots pattered against the old, gray cobblestones
that littered the ground beneath him. Tuffs of grass climbed through cracks inbetween
each stone. People bustled about, dragging children along behind them as they shopped
in the city taverns. Matavim watched them, wondering how they could spend their lives
shopping for materialistic items, when things were happening everywhere around them.
The question had come up once or twice when he spoke with Ninde. She would look him
in the eye and mutter, "Humans do not feel the way we do about life Matavim, that is
why we are separate creatures. They rush through life, as seasons do each month.
We do not because our lives last forvever, hundreds even thousands of years may pass
but we will still be here, enjoying life to the very last drop of it. Same goes for dwarves
and all other opposite races. We understand in different ways because we are different."
But no matter how mant times she told him this, Matavim still could not understand.
Perhaps it was the human side that prevented him from understanding. Perhaps it was
because of his age. Perhaps it was even nothing at all. Matavim could not tell. Matavim
only hoped he would understand the thoughts of others one day. And the reasons to why
they did and thought the things they did. Slowly the thief made his way to an inn in
Aurallyn called The Blue Eyed Carrion. Ninde, Matavim and Grendel were staying the
evening there. He stood at the large wooden door to the enterance of The Blue Eyed
Carrion. He pushed the door open, with a loud creak,

"I never asked for your damn opnion!"
"It wasn't an opnion dwarf, it was a fact. A true fact at that."
"Is that so? Well your mother's back hair is so long that you can wrap it around her head!"
"Who said my mother had back hair?! And how dare you insult my mother!"
"I've got plenty more where that came from. Would you like to hear another?"
"Will the two of you knock it off?"

Matavim gaucked in the doorway. Grendel was in another spat. This time it happened to
be a female bard. "This is between me and the dwarf, cleric. We don't need your
honorable advice." said the bard. Ninde snorted through her nose, her arms were crossed.
"Bard you wouldn't know the meaning of the word honorable if it bit you in the-"
Suddenly, Ninde stopped midsentece when she spotted Matavim in the doorway. Grendel
jumped off of the table he was standing on. "There you are lad, we've been waiting for you."
he said. Matavim glanced at Ninde. "What's going on?" he asked. Ninde turned to Grendel.
"Well go on Grendel, tell him what's going on." she ordered. Grendel sighed. "This bard here
insulted me. So I told her off." he said. Ninde shook her head. "No, how about let's try
attempting to ring her neck instead Grendel." said Ninde. "Aye and then I nearly broke my
foot while attempting to slip away from his death grip." the bard said. "Take those broken
mead glasses as evidence." stated Ninde. "Were lucky that damn dwarf didn't get the three
of us thrown out." said the bard. "The name's Grendel Blackforge to you, human." hissed
Grendel. The bard shrugged. Then she turned her attention to Matavim. "Who are you?"
she asked. Matavim cleared his throat. "My name is Matavim Eaglewing. I'm a half-elf
if you didn't know." he replied. "Corrine Bailey, if you please. It's a pleasure to meet you"
Matavim nodded. "Same here." "So Corrine, tell us, why you decided to come to
Aurallyn?" asked Ninde. Corrine took a sip of mead that still lingered in her glass on the
table. "Well, as a bard I travel around the world bringing tales of adventures and heroes."
She suddenly stopped. "Well sit down will you? This may take a while." she odered.
Ninde, Grendel and Matavim pulled out a chair and took a seat. "There that's better.
Now, as a bard I travel around the world, signing, and telling stories. During one of my
journies, I happened to listen in to a conversation in a small tavern one fine day. Two men
were conversing about a town by the name of Aurallyn that just so happened to be cursed."
Grendel, suddenly choked on the half devored mead he was drinking. "Cursed you say?"
he choked as Matavim clapped him on his back. "Yes cursed. Didn't you know that?"
she asked. Ninde shook her head. "No, this is the first we've heard of it. But go on tell
more." Corrine cleared her throat. "Well, here's the tale. Many, many years ago, this town
was once ruled by a lord named, Xezellios III. Now Lord Xezellios was a very unhappy
and depressed man. He always had bages under his eyes from loss of sleep. His mind was
always clouded with worry and dispare. His servents tried to do what they could to ease
his pain, but their attempts were futile. One day, as Xezellios was sitting in his throne,
someone knocked on the large wooden door. The lord ordered his servents to open the
door. Then, a women clad in black and silver stepped through the doorway. She carried a
large crocked wooden staff with a emerald jewel on the tip. She looked the lord in the eye,
her hands shaking as she pointed at him. "M'lord, I have a wonderful potion that
will ease your depression and dispare." she said. "It will make you the man you never were."
Despite her words, Lord Xezellios did not oblige. The women, was really an evil soceress
named Felinea Deathkeeper. Angered, the soceress pulled off her cloak. "You should
have took the potion dear Xezellios before you perished a terrible death, but I'm afraid
death has caught up to you now." she hissed. "Never say no to Felinea Deathkeeper.
Now I curse you and your kindgom for an eternity!" she roared as she cursed the city and
everyone in it!" So all of Aurallyn became a cused city." breathed Corrine. Grendel
snorted. "That's a load of rubbish it is." said Grendel picking his teeth. Ninde shook her
head.
"Now Corrine, if this city is cursed, isn't there something that is supposed to happen?"
she asked. Corrine smerked. "Oh yes let me sing it to you," then she pulled
out her harp and began to strum.
When the moon comes out at night
Is when it is a fright
Zombies wander around aimlessy
And it only takes night to see

"The night? You're telling me that people in this city turn into zombies?" asked Grendel.
Then he slammed his mead glass onto the table. "You must be bloody kidding me?!"
he roared. Ninde watched as the glass crashed onto the floor. "Now, now Grendel
calm down. It's only a myth. We don't even know if it's true." she said.
Matavim nodded. "Yes and it's not even night yet." Corrine looked out the window.
"Are you quite sure? Look again." then the three glanced out the window. The
moon was shining through.

~ ~ ~ ~

Matavim, Ninde, Grendel and Corrine stared out the window. The story
had proven true. Matavim shivered. "Well if what the bard says is true, then we
have no choice but to investigate it." said Grendel. Matavim's eyes widened.
"Go out there? There are zombies Grendel, doesn't that make you tremble in
your boots?" asked the half-elf. "Me? Afraid? Hah! That's a good one lad!"
scouffed the dwarf. Ninde shook her head. "Enough boasting dwarf, let's see
how fearless you are when we venture into the pits of the curse outside." said
Corrine as she stepped out the doorway. Matavim felt his heart skip a beat.
Without thinking, he grabbed Ninde's arm in fear. She looked down at him in
reasurrence. "Now, now stay calm young one. We are with you." she said.
Then the four stepped outside. Zombies wandred the streets, their fleash
hanging from their bones. Their eyes were empty crevices, stained in old blood.
Each and evey human and creature in Aurallyn had took the form of a zombie.
Even the cats that wandered the streets were walking lifeless corpes. Matavim
clutched tighter to Ninde. He felt her muscles twitch in anticipation. Grendel
turned to Corrine. "Well now, this is nice isn't it? A nice moonlit night filled with
zombies, this is so wonderful I could even go for another mug of mead!" joked the
dwarf. "That's not funny Grendel." said Matavim. Ninde sighed. "Be serious
will you? This is no time for jokes Grendel." she scoulded. "It was a bit of fun
Ninde." he replied. "Yes fun is all well and good, but it won't be if we find ourselves
dead on the stoop." Grendel sighed. "Your wisdom is something to look out
for Ninde." Corrine smerked. "I'd say that her wisdom keeps you in your place."
Grendel snorted. "You keep quiet will you?" he ordered. "How about if we all
keep quiet for a while?" she asked. Matavim released his grip on Ninde's arm.
Slowly, the high-elf pulled out a small black vial. "What's that?" asked
Matavim. "A potion to inhance my holy powers if the zombies do decide to
attack us." Then, she took the vial and put it to her lips. The liquid flowed down
her throat. Grendel grimaced as he spotted Ninde's face cringe as if she were
in pain. "You alright?" asked Corrine. Ninde mearly nodded her head and continued
to gulp down the potion. A golden, holy glow flowed around the cleric when each
drop had been drunk. Ninde dropped the vial to the ground and leaned on the wall
for support. "Ninde? Are you feeling illl?" asked Matavim. Ninde waved her hand.
"Now, now, this is nothing to concern yourself with. I'm fine it's just a tad
overwelmig. I'm just not used to borrowing a bit more of the God's powers is all."
she gasped. Grendel turned to the zombies. "I think you'd better hurry and finish
recooporating Ninde, they're coming." he urged. "He's right, there are about ten
coming our way right now." said Corrine, drawing a small short bow from her pack.
Then she pulled an arrow from her quiver. Grendel drew his flame covered axe and
rushed at the zombies, his beard flowing out behind him. Matavim pulled out his small
venom covered dagger and snuck towards the zombies, ever so quietly. Ninde, pulled
out a heavy spike covered mace, and then began to cast a spell.
Her spell hit the mob of zombies with powerful holy magic. They screamed in
agony and then rushed towards her. "Look out Ninde!" shouted Grendel, blocking
the zombies claws and teeth. "I've got it under control but Corrine you might
want to watch yourself!" she warned. The bard nodded. "Alright! That I can do!"
she roared back. Matavim and Grendel had their own mess of problems. "Look
out lad, keep your aim steady!" shouted Grendel. Matavim's hand shook as he
struck another arrow at one of the zombies. Grendel struck with his axe and sliced
a zombie head clear off. Matavim wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That was pretty
disgusting, I have to say." said Grendel, wiping off some of the zombies remains
from his armor. Matavim turned away. "Oy lad, this isn't going to be the first or
the last time you'll be having things explode in your face." announced Grendel.
Matavim sighed. "I know that. I'm just not used to seeing it." Grendel snorted.
"Well you'd better get used to seeing it, especially if you're going to hang around with
us."
Ninde and Corrine finished off the last zombies tirelessly. Both were
covered in blood and organs. "Uch. That's what I call a blood bath." said Corrine,
running her fingers through her blood madded hair. Ninde began to heal her comrades
wounds, no matter how small they may be. "Everyone alright?" asked Grendel.
Matavim followed behind his head bent low. "Were thriving if that makes you feel
any better." said Corrine. Ninde sighed. "There's too many in this city, we may
never be able to cleanse the overrun of zombies." Corrine looked up. "Perhaps
we cannot and perhaps we can." Then, she began to strum on her lute. "What in the
name of the god's are you doing?" scoulded Grendel. Corrine smerked and then
continued to play. Ninde, Matavim and Grendel looked around at the zombies, who
now seemed frozen in time. "Corrine? What is this? Why are they all frozen in time?"
Ninde asked. Grendel watched the bard in silent awe.