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Literature
Remnant of Iron - Chapter 11: The Discovery
The Hamlet
In the refurbished room, away from prying eyes, words were bartered and exchanged in an alien tongue that neither each side would understand from the other. Fortunate that with the efforts of their young translator, inexperienced and anxious combined, Grimwald was able to bridge the divide and spoke on their behalf.
The negotiation between humans and rabbits ended with a conclusion, but not what they had come to expect. Rabbit representatives from the House of Proudclaw desired the secret formula to gunpowder. A powdery substance of onyx hue with an explosive property. While the rabbits concocted a version of their own, it lacked the firepower to be used in combat.
Valice was briefed just before the start of the negotiation. Outright, she knew the risk to the deal. The supplies from House Proudclaw was enough to sustain the hamlet. Enough to survive against the harsh conditions of winter and even beyond. Yet all good things had a price to it and one she was too stubborn to s
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Literature
Remnant of Iron: Chapter 10 - Accornhall
It was clear that Aviel Amion wouldn't go to a mission without some insurance to cover the rear. The likeable candidates selected for the task were Tristram the weasel, the first animal who'd welcome him with open arms, and Yara the bear, the tattooed shaman-warrioress. Both accepted Amion's proposal, but not as ones who insisted on helping him in the long run. They had other ideas for that matter.
Every animal folk from Blueberry town had heard the name, the reputable and sometimes the infamous rat of the grinning blade. Spoken with high regard, the rat known as Mercurio had been influential in the region, pouring a vast amount of wealth into the town and gaining groups of loyal followers in his wake. Anyone that had come to aid the rat received a boon, paid handsomely for the trouble and effort. It was easy for Amion to suspect to the reason for Yara and Tristram's quick response. To their eyes, they struck a goldmine, and the rat was just that.
While most of the town of Blueberry ad
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Literature
The End of Summer
So it ends the summer fun,
Left to be in all
For once we delve summer's heat,
Till approach of fall.
But here remain from beyond,
There to meet its call.
Memories alive complete,
Till approach of fall.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 2 2
Literature
Lost our summer fun
How I love the summer flair,
crisp of sunny noon,
warm today that stage to dare,
like winds of monsoon.
Close to feel the clouds that gain,
wrap the shrouded sun.
As weather turned, filled with pain,
Lost our joyous fun.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 3 0
Literature
On Summer's day
On summer's day of golden light,
On endless blue above in sight.
On waves of heat that turn us all
And lay to sleep till dawn of fall.
For here present the day of flight
On summer’s day of golden light,
Embrace by wind that blew your face
And walk upon this worldly trace.
The hour to live and live to be,
Against the heat this urge to see.
On summer’s day of golden light,
That we shall rise to play and fight.
Oh joyous sun, let light be long,
Be fierce to bring those worthy strong.
And close to end this season might
On summer’s day of golden light.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 3 5
Literature
Life is a Fleeting Moment
What was life beneath mortal graves?
What turns from chance and price to brave?
When some of those that slumber the dark
To live once more that faded spark.
And witness the fall, once that crave.
What was life beneath mortal graves?
It is a fleeting of moment,
Of the dead's forever torment,
When all such glimpse of lives today,
Tomorrow breeds of bleakest days.
What was life beneath mortal graves?
When chance but slip of the deprave.
Brother of death that come at fold,
Take the weak or strong, young or old.
For life but precious gift to save.
What was life beneath mortal graves?
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 2 0
Literature
Remnant of Iron - Chapter 9: The Declared
The Stone Circle, Deep in the Dark Forest
The eerie silence in the dark woods was a clear message, a momentary relief for the men to exit the area safely. The plagued beasts that they slew remained as they were, lifeless and still that reek of a noxious odour that send a few to vomit. The signs of the rot were notable, easily to describe of their striped purplish veins, and their eyes paled of orb white.
Valeran dared to glance at the dead, and a cold chill ran beneath his spine. While the Partishan, such as himself, were immune to such diseases, the regulars were not entirely in the case. There was a bit of worry inside of the Partishan as he wondered if the survivors were exposed to the corruption. If that were the case, then he feared that the expedition had failed and that he had no choice but to kill the survivors in sight.
Valeran stride toward to the canine doctor in a slow, but steady pace, his feet heavily stomped on the ground. Questions began to form in his head upon the man
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Literature
Anger
Rage dug deep of foolish shell,
There that burn beat the beast to fail
Long inflict within the pyres of hell.
Far reach seep from words that fell,
Shattered bond, coursed don, by tale.
Rage dug deep of foolish shell.
Eyes blurred sight that guide and meld.
Marred by viscous, voracious pale,
Long inflict within the pyres of hell.
For when that cage of love in cell,
No longer grace by wind or vale.
Rage dug deep of foolish shell.
Smite what wrought now fall from well,
Sick and sicker, be damned prevail,
Long inflict within the pyres of hell
Till turn taught tragic torn to tell,
And loathe from empty, screech to wail.
Rage dug deep of foolish shell,
Long inflict within the pyres of hell.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 0 0
Literature
Remnant of Iron - Chapter 8: The Cornered
The Cornered
Lucky Foot Tavern, Blueberry Town
The tavern was calm and quiet in the middle of the night. Customers that come on a regular spree were returned to their homes and young travellers from far away lands were sent to their bed, dreaming of riches and adventure.The only folk that were still up late was a mouse barkeeper, a couple of tired barmaids and two guests that were sitting by the fireplace.
Amion was not a man who could hold on to his drink. He had tried alcohol beverage before which resulted from him in a mad and wild case of stupor. Such high volumes of consumption would make him feel tipsy, erratic in a petulant behaviour that was enough to make him swore that he would never drink again. Instead of ordering the finest drinks in the tavern, he decided to order something that has been growing as an obsession to him. He called out for bubble tea.
It had taken several idle banter of drinks to break the awkward tension that was forming the two. Neither of them, a rat and
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Literature
Beginning
Open gaze to the universe,
Open mind shift like words and verse.
It set our song from start of life,
And face beyond the future rife.
Walk on two, graze to stand the worse
Open mind shift like words and verse.
The youth shall gaze to which the world,
And learn to seek where darkness hurled.
Bare between beyond basket breath,
Dare demands duty delve don death
Open mind shift like words and verse,
That soon may crawl that seep like curse
Yet here they face that cannot know,
The breach that tend of distant glow.
A deed of worth, constrict and pursed
Open mind shift like words and verse.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 8 5
Literature
The Red Knight: Realm of Grief - Chapter 1
The late afternoon was bleak and morbid. Air tasted of rusty copper and lead as artillery fire was nonstop in their barrage, focusing their effort to erase the Order in one fell swoop.
The residence that housed over a thousand innocent lives within the fortified fortress of Avis Rol was quick to abandon, leaving their homes in ablaze. Black smoke so thick that it drifted to the sky and covered the world like a sea of darkness. It was here, the remaining Knights of Burgundy made their last stand in hopes to bide more time for the civilians to escape. Their final acceptance against an enemy that they once called friend.
Given to them by the Emperor himself, Avis Rol was a stronghold of human achievement. Engineered since the founding days of the empire, the stronghold was a monumental feat of work that thought to be nearly indestructible. It stood tall and proud with walls made of white marble stone. Towers that stretched far and wide that no enemy would escape their sight. Its central k
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Literature
Space
A time that once we set and soar the universe,
A time that forge beyond of space turn mattered worse
We rage the light that dies within we dwell
And face of worlds, countless hurls, within the course of hell.
For when we rise to see amaze through steel and ship,
To gaze the stars not of known and known to dip.
We chart our course and set an age stain with gold,
Covered bronze, littered silver, to once we hold.
Factions within fraction that split our race apart,
There what lied the bitter truth within our sacred heart.
Our mortal fear and desperate hear of greed and simple lust.
That turn against of former souls that long forget to trust.
War and death consume us whole the fate of galaxy,
We fight for deeds and wounded past the trace of humanity.
For when that fall this ceaseless scar that bore our fragile flesh,
Hope shall bloom to set the wise to brave and start afresh.
We turn the tools, that make us fools, embrace of endless peace.
We break the chain of ghostly pain the fear that fa
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 5 2
Literature
Willow's Garden
Refrain:
There in the highlight of garden;
Bloom the willow of tree.
Tall as high that cover the sun
Loom all below to be.
(I)
From gale and leaves that tend and ease;
Five wise souls in the shade.
Yet one stand out her hand on harp.
A tune and song was made.
(II)
She strum the string with graceful sound
Her heart poured out to one
The rest of four paid heed her act
And silence claimed the sun.
(Refrain)
(III)
Her hand that bring of hope and life
That turn to tragic song.
Flash of past that brought her here
And those that fell from wrong.
(IV)
The silent sleep from death and flame
All she love to the grave.
Alone and lost, the last of kind
The world turn cold deprave.
(V)
On countless rise of season moon,
Filled with power and lore.
Yet days of fun and jokes were gone,
Now flawless evermore.
(Refrain)
Yet once the harp that strum no more;
The four stood silent still.
They not of heard her voice in pain,
Lament with guilt that fill.
And so have dealt the tale to tell,
The fair, the grac
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 4 0
Literature
King
Brightest
Oldest
Wisest
Kindest
Hail to the Brightest, Oldest we sing
Our song to the Wisest, Kindest king.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 5 0
Literature
Defiant of Hope
Brightest, fiercest souls; defiant to the end,
Blindest, hardest minds refuse to give and quit.
These were the deeds that made of great, former men.
In youth, fiery heart set hot and alit;
Passion drove those chosen few that spark their flame,
Where they soar like birds from their dark, blacken pit.
Some born from prestigious wealth, nobles of fame;
High and clouded, warped by their own selfish plight
Though some rose outright as champions of the game.
Some were forged deep from the empty, narrow light,
Where no hope or faith reach to their fearful heart,
And some rose to face with the courage of might.
These were the deeds that make the whole world start.
Here they shine as bright as the stars from apart.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 5 0
Literature
Rain and Wind
Tears
Mix Gale
Wildly Vale
Torn trees and home
Typhoon storm that roam.
Dressed warm with warmly coat
Walk through hell from far remote
And face the surge gone grown promote,
Pressing on through chance be cold and soak.
I dare to walk midst the violent choke;
And reach upon to my destination.
Among from friends to gain attention.
Sat on a chair near the fire
With hand to drink desire.
Fell from peaceful slumber,
Dream next of summer.
Cold fleet no more
From the core.
Life pass
On.
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:iconcedric-scorch:Cedric-Scorch 1 0

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Edric L.
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The Hamlet


In the refurbished room, away from prying eyes, words were bartered and exchanged in an alien tongue that neither each side would understand from the other. Fortunate that with the efforts of their young translator, inexperienced and anxious combined, Grimwald was able to bridge the divide and spoke on their behalf.

The negotiation between humans and rabbits ended with a conclusion, but not what they had come to expect. Rabbit representatives from the House of Proudclaw desired the secret formula to gunpowder. A powdery substance of onyx hue with an explosive property. While the rabbits concocted a version of their own, it lacked the firepower to be used in combat.

Valice was briefed just before the start of the negotiation. Outright, she knew the risk to the deal. The supplies from House Proudclaw was enough to sustain the hamlet. Enough to survive against the harsh conditions of winter and even beyond. Yet all good things had a price to it and one she was too stubborn to surrender.

The formula was a closely guarded secret, preserved only to the Empire alone. Few were granted with such knowledge. Fewer remain to live with it. It was by her right that she should refuse the demand and proposed another, more suitable deal to their situation. Her father was honoured for this gift, and it was her job to make sure the formula would forever be a secret.

The talk lasted for hours as both sides used every skill and attempt to sway from the other. As it dragged on to the late of night, they found some sort of a middle ground. A chance to prove each other's worth.

Oraas Dem, the advisor to Lady Valice, proposed a visit to the rabbit estate to converse formally with the owner. A tour that would ensure the hamlet that House Proudclaw was one worthy of trust. Valice and the rabbit representative hesitated at first, uncertain to the extent with the lady siding to a disagreement. Eventually, however, both side gave in and concluded their talk.

With the representatives retired to their respective quarter, Valice and her advisor left the building, accompanied by the translator and her bodyguards. There was a tired look on the lady's face, mentally drained from the long conversation. Admittedly, she thought the rabbits to be quite as stubborn as she was and ever resilient to get what they wanted, but in her time of politics and talks and arguments in the past, she prevailed to tie with them as a result. While she was ready to head into bed, Oraas, on the other hand, remained energetic, alive and showed little signs of exhaustion.

“A most interesting of affairs, wouldn't you agree?” the advisor stated to her, smiling a tiny grin. He was rather quite calm about it since he personally volunteered to journey towards an unknown bastion, ladened with rabbits and other beasts alike. "Wonder what sort of customs do these rabbits have and what do they eat? Carrots only? Hmm, no, I do not think that is simple.”

Valice was despondent at his reaction. She didn't suspect the old man to be interested over a bunch of flat-footed rabbits. It made her slightly worried.

“I do not think this is a joking matter,” she responded in a low tone, squeezing both of her hands tight on her gloves. She should be furious, aggravated to the point that the advisor decided right there and then to volunteer for the task and without her consent. As much as she wanted to scold the man, her concern weighed heavily than personal pride. "Sending you to a place that we do not know puts you in jeopardy. Who knows what these rabbits would do once you get there? They may torture you for information or worse."

Oraas was flattered, slightly gracious that the lady was concerned for his well being and health. “You should place more faith in your subjects, milady,” he calmly replied. “I am not as fragile as you might think. Be sure to understand that I am ready. I promise,” he took a moment of pause and chuckled. “Besides, I've been at your father's side for many years. If I can manage this far with his temper, I can manage this one.”

As always, Oraas would find the chance to make the lady smile or laugh just to divert the subject. However, she wasn't in the mood to indulge in humour. Not this time.

While it was true that the advisor had served the family loyally throughout the years, there was much room for Valice to be concerned about. For one, she knew the old man was in poor health and noticed once or twice of his peculiar accidents. The usual excuse that he shrugged off. Although he wouldn't admit to his weakness, she remained powerless to stop him.

No amount of reason or force could surrender a staunch fellow like Oraas, and Valice could do nothing more than to watch her mentor moved onward with little years he had left.

As they reached to the longhouse, Oraas bid the lady goodnight. Unable to sleep for a reason alone, the old advisor resumed his nightly stroll with the translator at his side.

“Are you sure you don't want the bodyguards?” Grimwald asked. “I'm not at all best when it comes to guarding stuff.”

“You'll do fine,” Oraas responded to him dismissively. “I do not want to bother them from their duty. Lady Valice is above a priority.”

The stroll was a silent trip around the hamlet and neither the two spoke out to one another. After ten minutes of peaceful absence, they reached at last to the advisor's household.

It was a simple design with walls made out of cheap wood, one small window and black tiles for a roof. While the lady suggested for a more respectable house worthy of merit, Oraas insisted on his choice and remained adamant to live in it. To him, he preferred the small things in life.

“Grimwald Gore,” The advisor spoke in absolute authority and gave the translator a stern and severe look. When Grimwald heard his name, he stood up straight for attention. His shoulders stiff like stone and sweat beading down from his eyebrow. He was nervous at every sense of the word.

“I trust that you are ready to do what must be done?” The advisor asked with assurance. “The importance of this visit would ensure our confirmation that these... people,” he referred to the rabbits. “may benefit us in the long term. Do I have your word as a soldier that you would remain true to your cause?”

Grimwald gulped. If there were one person that he feared the most than the Partishan and the lady, it would be the advisor, Oraas Dem.

“Of course, sir.” He answered slowly, unable to meet the man's gaze. It was all that he could say at the moment. Oraas eyed at the frightened, young man before he grinned slightly.

“I will see you tomorrow.” The advisor said. As he was about to close the door, he made one final word to the frightened soldier. “Pray you don't disappoint us.”

As the door creaked ever so slowly to a close, a sigh of relief escaped from Grimwald. “Damn bastard.” He cursed silently under his breath. He left the advisor alone to his affair and retraced his steps back to the rabbit representatives. To him, he knew it was another hectic tomorrow.


====----====


The Longhouse

With her bodyguards left outside to patrol, Valice was left alone to her quarters, delved deep in thought to the future ahead. The likelihood cooperation with the rabbits made her question about many things. Things like the lives of her men and the possible chance to return to their world.

There was without question that the rabbits would prove useful to the hamlet. Valice was sure of it. Yet as much it brought some form of relief, she was bothered by another situation. Her decision to negotiate with the beastfolk had created complications with the Partishans. Including one unlikeable individual that remained temporarily in charge of the group.

Like an open page from a book, Valice saw the usual signs of Partishan Lars’ deep hatred towards rabbits, towards anyone that wasn't human. She shouldn't be surprised. Partishans always suspected every one of treachery.

As the lady was about to retire for the night, all of a sudden and without warning, she heard a noise, a sound, of doors being slammed open and heavy footsteps that entered the building. She gives a good guess to be her bodyguards in which the lady groaned out loud in annoyance.

Unable to ignore from the chaos that was outside from her room, Valice quickly placed her outer garment around her nightdress and left the room to meet the disturbance. She strides towards the narrow hallway all the way up to the center where her brown eyes caught a glance of her bodyguards just waiting at the front.

The longhouse that used to hold feast and banquets was transformed into another purpose. No longer housed of random crowds of partygoers but instead replaced with officers, veterans and even Partishans alike. It was a place of operation, a war room to discuss privately from either trivial to important matters and the future of the hamlet. Mostly all talk and little action routine.

“Guardsman,” Valice said in a neutral tone, staring on him with an accusing gaze. “You better have a good explanation to barge in and interrupt my slumber.”

The guardsman, her bodyguard, stood straight and bowed ever so lightly. “Forgive to intrude on your moment of respite, milady,” he answered apologetically, raising his head. “But we have caught someone from one of our patrols.”

“And what pray to tell that you guys have caught?”

“We have caught ourselves a weasel.”

Valice raised her eyebrow in silent, bemused by what the guardsman had meant. It didn’t take long before she turned to the second guardsman that she noticed that he wasn’t joking at the slightest.

Behind the guardsman’s back was a humanoid weasel, bruised and bloodied with wounds that seemed reasonably recent. Bloodstains had caught on its onyx fur and the protective tunic that strapped around its chest as well as the guardsman who carried it. The creature was unconscious, eyes shut tight, barely breathing and close at the brink of death.

Valice was mortified at the state of the weasel’s condition and as she was about to ask, the guardsman voiced in.

“It was like that when we found the little guy,” he answered to her approachable question. His voice betrayed with a slight hint of sympathy. “Appeared waltzing towards to us. Naught a care in the world.”

Valice closed in on the weasel as she extends her hand to rub its fuzzy face, its fur was soft like feathers. “And where did you exactly found this creature, guardsman?”

“From the east gate, milady. Damnable watchmen supposed to prevent this from happening. It must have sneak through under their watch.”

The second guardsman reaffirmed his holding on the weasel. “What do you want me to do with this thing?” He asked and showed not one ounce of sympathy.

Valice stared at the weasel and thought on what to do. She could order the guardsmen to toss it back to the wilderness and let fate decide the outcome. On the other hand, she could allow it to remain at the hamlet, treat its wounds and interrogate it for further questioning, but doing so would further aggravate the Partishans. Fortunately for her, she wasn't cruel enough to ignore the cries for help.

“Bring the weasel to the medic,” she gestured her hand to the guards, telling them to leave. “Send someone to keep on eye on it until the time being.”

The guardsmen made a firm salute and left to do just that. As the door came to a close, Valice returned to her room to enjoy a moment of peace.


====----====


Accornhall

The east corridor fared worse than the front of the castle as vegetation had seized much of the halls, creeping inward through the cracks and crevices of the stone, turning into a playground of perilous danger. The rooms, each held their little secrets were cut off from entry, forever lost under a ton of buried rubble. Unlike other parts of the castle, the east side had a decent number of wildflowers that had a sweet and robust kind of aroma that was noxious to almost anyone.

Unaware that their leader had already gone upstairs to the second floor, the two that went along, Yara and Tristram, were in progress to search for the missing group that Mercurio had sent last week. So far, their result was mediocre at best. As they struggled through the vines and scented fumes, Tristram coughed terribly, covering his mouth with the rags that he received from Amion.

“Damnable nuisance,” The weasel uttered out, slowly starting to lose his patience. “Out of all the places, Yara, you decided to pick this spot. Who in the right mind would head in this direction? I wouldn’t be stupid enough to go here even if my life was at risk!”

Yara groaned in silent, trying to ignore the constant, petty antics that was Tristram. The bear had every right and reason to explore the east side of the castle as it was the last place they hadn’t look. None of the areas had the survivors, and most were blocked by either vines or rubble. If there was a chance that they somehow managed to get through to infested wildflowers, then that was what Yara should do.

After hours of passing through peril, the mercenaries had finally reached at the end of the trail. They stopped to meet at an oaken door, carved with an artistic flair of design with a red rose symbol. Yara tried to turn the doorknob, but couldn’t budge the door to open. The door was sealed shut tight.

“Guess it’s my turn,” Tristram said, right on cue as he rummaged through his pocket. In his hand, the weasel pulled out his trustee lockpick and begin his work on the lock. After several minutes, he heard a quiet click and pushed the door inward, revealing a pitch black room, devoid of any light.

“Lady’s first,” the weasel added, bowing his head, gesturing his arms towards the dark abyss.

“You're all heart, Tristram,” the bear replied sardonically. Power flowed at the left of her fingertips as she entered the room. Her hand released a small ball of light, brightening the room for several minutes, enough for Tristram to spot the torch holders nearby.

As the weasel lighten the torches, the room revealed itself to be nothing out of the ordinary. The room had a couple of furniture, covered in sheets and empty bookshelves filled with dust and cobwebs. No any signs of survivors. No treasure to loot. Nothing.

Tristram felt rather disappointed. “Well this could have been better,” he said, sighing. “Yet another waste of our time. Should have sided with Amion when I had the chance.”

They thoroughly searched the room, hoping to find something worthy for their trouble. While Yara checked on the bookshelves, the weasel had the time to look at the covered furniture. As he pulled down one of the sheets, he was impressed by how it was perfectly preserved and that he could sell it to the right market. However, he wasn't looking for furniture.

Tristram was more disappointed than he should be and wondered if Mercurio's men were even here in the first place. Was the trip an entire waste of time? If that were the case, he was more than delighted to return to Blueberry town and ask Mercurio in person. He wanted to get close so he could place a knife up to the rat's neck.

After several tugs, the weasel discovered more furniture, each of them well-crafted than the next. The carved markings on the wood were elegant, perfect in every way that was pleasing to the eye. Then something caught his attention from the corner of the room. A smile began to creep upon his face. He knew exactly what it was.

The weasel approached it and unfold the sheets to reveal his hunch was correct. It was a chest.

“Well, alright, that's more like it,” Tristram said, pleased, feeling bright all of a sudden. With his trustee lockpick, he made short work on the chest and lifting the seal open.

Within the contents of the chest were nothing as remarkable to what the weasel come to suspect. Some bit of clothes and toys and other miscellaneous stuff that bore no value. Yet, the weasel was still smiling and spotted something shiny further deep inward.

The weasel didn't care for cleanliness as he tossed the useless junks in the air. He reached down to pull something out of the chest. In his hand was a long dagger, ornate, sheath made out of metal of black and gold. Unsheathed from the scabbard, the blade itself was of a perfectly fine craft with a needle pointed tip. Its smooth surface had a strange black colour.

“Well, aren't you a beauty,” he said, happily placing the dagger on the belt. As he continued to rummage the inside of the chest, he quickly noticed something and froze.

Inside from the chest was a ring, far more beautiful than the dagger itself. It had an earthlike appearance, melded in black and orange hue. When he held it at the palm of his hand, he felt the warmness of the ring as if it was recently forged in the fires of a furnace. In his years as a mercenary, he had never seen quite anything like it.

Just on cue, Yara returned from her search. “Found anything?” She asked.

Tristram snapped from his trance and turned to meet the bear, concealing the ring. “None…nothing worth valuable.”

Yara paused in silent and eyed on something. “You're lying.”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

The bear pointed at the weasel's belt. “Nice dagger you got.”

Tristram had utterly forgotten about the dagger and laughed weakly. “Geez, you caught me on that one. But yeah, alright, there had been some kind of find. No sign of Mercurio's group, however.”

“I feared as much,” Yara sighed in disappointment, her direction turned towards to the exit. “Come on, let's head back. Amion would suspect a report from us.”

“I'll be right with you in a second. Need to make sure I got everything I need.” Tristram explained and continued to watch Yara leaving the room. As she was further away into the distant, the weasel opened his hand to gaze at the ring one more time, hypnotized by the sheer beauty of it.

There was a low laugh coming from the weasel. The low triumphant laughter, one found a treasure worth all of the treasures. “You're too good to pass up.” He placed the ring firmly in his pocket and quickly left the room.
Remnant of Iron - Chapter 11: The Discovery
The discussion between the rabbits and the hamlet had reach to a conclusion; Valice was interrupted by a disturbance from her guards; Tristram and Yara proceeded to the search for Mercurio's men.

==--==

Extensive note on the Partishan's attitude towards human and non-human.

The Partishans were created as insurance when the Scarlet Order, a group of fanatics, declared war on the Empire. As much, their debut at the Siege of Solus was a defining moment in turn for the Empire to defeat the dreaded red menace once and for all. While they were instrumental to the Empire's survival and victory, their views towards regular humans and non-humans soured at the closing end of the war.

Considered as super-soldiers with vampiric abilities, they viewed the human race as weak and feeble creatures who were tempted by riches and glory. During the war, the Partishans witnessed many accounts of atrocities and inefficiency from both side of the conflict and thought of them as nothing more than inferior to their own. While few harboured some manner of respect and a style of tolerance from both friend and foe alike, the majority remained indifferent, hostile and even more suspicious to everyone.

Worse still was their deep hatred towards anyone who possessed mystical and mutated abilities. Especially those that surrendered their humanity in exchange for power. To the Partishans, it would take time to tolerate the beastfolk of Armello as they are ever vigilant towards anyone of suspicion or treachery.
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It was clear that Aviel Amion wouldn't go to a mission without some insurance to cover the rear. The likeable candidates selected for the task were Tristram the weasel, the first animal who'd welcome him with open arms, and Yara the bear, the tattooed shaman-warrioress. Both accepted Amion's proposal, but not as ones who insisted on helping him in the long run. They had other ideas for that matter.

Every animal folk from Blueberry town had heard the name, the reputable and sometimes the infamous rat of the grinning blade. Spoken with high regard, the rat known as Mercurio had been influential in the region, pouring a vast amount of wealth into the town and gaining groups of loyal followers in his wake. Anyone that had come to aid the rat received a boon, paid handsomely for the trouble and effort. It was easy for Amion to suspect to the reason for Yara and Tristram's quick response. To their eyes, they struck a goldmine, and the rat was just that.

While most of the town of Blueberry adored him for his generous contribution and wealth, Amion smelled a rat when he saw one. In his time spent killing corrupt officials and crime lords and high ranking military officers, Amion saw Mercurio as no different to the rest of the black elements in the past. If he received a decree from the Meisters, he would have killed the rat in an instant, regarding whether Mercurio was good or evil. Luckily, he wasn't in the Order, wasn't following the decrees of the Meisters and cared little about the rat's business with the exception to threats and blackmail.

Amion was not fond of blackmail. Especially if it was from a rat, who had manners and charm and an incredible wit that Amion came to respect upon since his introduction. While their meeting was quaint and well-mannered, Amion should have left the rat to his fate with the blackguards on that fateful day.

It could have been easy for Amion to kill the rat back at the tavern, easy to kill anyone that stood in his way. He chose not to, wisely enough, for the reasons alone was enough to steady his hand in place. Mercurio was smart to place a contingency plan should his life be extinguished at Amion's hand. Rogue elements of assassins, saboteurs and blackguards alike would hunt Amion down to the extent and no end, and wherever he went, they would wait from the shadow to strike him down when given the opportunity. The result would be a nightmare for him.

Another reason that Amion chose to be compliant was a particular person or animal that he had a soft spot since his time spent on the tavern, the Lucky Foot. A courageous and energetic maned wolf that Amion fell madly in love with her.

There was no need for Amion to guess that the rat would use her as leverage somehow and someday she would be in danger if he chose to remain defiant. It was for her sake that Amion decided to accept the mission. What was even worse was that Amion learned not too long ago that Aveline and the rest of her barmaids owed Mercurio with their life. Their lives before Mercurio's intervention was rife with untold suffering, and if it hadn't been for Mercurio, they would have perished at an early age and that they would never know the meaning of a better life.

In slight admittance, Amion was grateful to Mercurio, if not shown in public. If Mercurio hadn't helped the town, then Amion would have never met Aveline and learned the many new things about the world with her. The time that Amion spent with Aveline was precious to him, genuine. He had gotten chance to knew Aveline better during the following week, and when he revealed his secret to her, she was downright ecstatic. She was the second animal that knew Amion's identity besides Mercurio, but Amion had to admit that his secret was no longer a secret when everyone from the tavern knew of his naked face.

As much as Amion was concerned that the Partishans, vile enemies of the Scarlet Order, would discover that the last living member of the Order had survived from the war, he didn't care as long he was with her.

Amion didn't want to lose Aveline, didn't want to miss her cheerful smile and her colourful personality. It was rare for Amion to be afraid like this and the idea of a long lasting relationship made him nervous. While he met several ladies during his time in the Order, none of them strike as fancy to his taste. Even the streetwalkers, who swayed and charmed countless of his brothers wherever they went, were despicable, and he tried his best to stay away from them as possible.

For now, Amion remained as he was and pressed on to his objective without a word. Like a hired hand, he directed his focus into ending it in a precise and quick result so he could return to Aveline's side. If he were to respond to a life of blood and death, he would accept it heartily. He was no shy to the carnage, the bloodshed and the foulness that reek from the dead. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He was ready to be a killer, and he was prepared to die for her.


====----====


They would arrive along the old road. It trailed far remote into the corrupted countryside, leading to a dark and foreboding field that few would dare to venture.

The task that they were given was an investigation into the old ruins of Accornhall. A once venerable household that centred on trade and fairness before the Rot had taken the entire family into an early grave. All that remained of that imperialistic majesty were dust and cobwebs and the unknowable terror that lurked beneath the stone.

There had been wild rumours in Accornhall that proved little to be true for that matter, but it seemed trouble brew from the horizon in which Mercurio couldn't ignore any longer. Few witnesses saw a light from the ruin, glowing in an eerie radiance from the many shattered windows above. In revelation, the news caused quite a stir, and some of the townsfolk suspected to be the ghost of the deceased member of the family or the return of the Rot.

Mercurio was unconvinced by the tale. Hardly anyone would suspect that the light could be some random intruder with a torch in paw. The townsfolk didn't see Mercurio eye to eye, however, and open defiance wasn't good business for the rat. Surrendered to the paranoia masses of the town, Mercurio employed several hired thugs to root out the problem and to once for all end the hysteria that plagued the townsfolk. But, that was days ago since then, and he hadn't gotten a word from them after their journey.

Now turned silent mission and to save Mercurio from humiliation, the task had been laid down to Amion, Tristram and Yara to discover the disappearance of the hired thugs and eliminate any disturbance that walked in the old ruins.

Amion was a bit flattered that Mercurio placed so much confidence in him, but he would be a fool to think that the task was but a simple walk in the park. In his experience during the war, he knew that any park was treacherous, laid out like a trap for anyone foolish enough to spring it. He wasn't going to be caught in the crossfire and be a victim of mistakes. He was going to end it like any other job: fast and direct on point.

Upon their silent trip, Tristram, the weasel, approached Amion from the side, glancing at him in a frequent occasion. Amion was aware of this and tried to ignore him, but it seemed to prove fatal as the weasel became more and more curious after each minute.

"So...Amion..." Tristram began slowly, conducting a question. Amion suspected on what the weasel was about to ask "Do I hear this right? You not a wolf?"

Amion responded with a nod. "Does that bother you?" He asked.

Tristram pondered for a bit and smiled. "Nah, I knew from the beginning you weren't a wolf. Not of my business to dig in."

Amion stopped in his track to stare at Tristram. "How many knew that I wasn't a wolf?"

"Many. But no one knows what's behind that helmet of yours. A lot think you be some dog since we can't see the tail of yours. Or maybe you are indeed a wolf but got your tail cut off by Magna or something. Me and Yara knew better, of course."

"And who is this Magna that you speak of?"

Tristram was about to respond to that when Yara coughed out loud to interrupt them. "Please, do forgive him. Tristram had been shaken up lately with the rumours that have been going around with you and Mercurio last night."

"Oh don't pull a tail on me, Yara," Tristram interjected, pointing at the bear. "You are more curious about this than me. You've been staring at his helmet since we left."

It was the first time that Amion saw the bear flustered with embarrassment. Was his identity that important to them?

"I did not know that it was a big issue for you guys." Amion proclaimed, watching Yara shifted elsewhere in a desperate attempt to avoid further embarrassment.

"Well, with all the meagre jobs that we've taken and the dullness of the town," Tristram explained. "Your arrival was enough to talk about for weeks. All bets are now played to see who is behind that helmet of yours. My money is that you would be a dog."

"Oh for goodness sake." Amion facepalmed.

"Given to be said," The weasel said, his smile widened even more. "Care to let us take a peek?"

Amion groaned in silent, tortured that his experience had come to this. While he had the right to say no to that matter, he knew better than to let the weasel invade his personal life. The weasel had the knack for finding things out, and it wasn't long before he would discover his secret. Amion did wonder, however, if the weasel was a former spy of some sort, but he was doubtful to be true since the weasel was indeed a terrible liar in card games.

"It would save you a lot of trouble if you did so," Yara added to side with the weasel finally. She began to raise her voice a little. "Wouldn't hurt to see you without a helmet. Thinking about it would prove to be a distraction.

"Not you too, Yara," Amion said, stupefied. Out of all the animals in the tavern and the town, he didn't suspect the bear to surrender so easily. He smiled a little bit behind his helmet. "And I thought you were a lady of manners." The bear's face flushed in bright red as the weasel laughed at the sight.

Amion could feel the weasel's glare beaming down upon him, urging with insistence to the demand. He didn't want to do it, but he notices that Yara, too, joined in with the stare and shared the same feeling as Tristram. In the end, Amion gave in to the demand and surrendered.

"Fine, alright, you win," Amion said and began to unlatch the holdings of the helmet. The two animals leaned close to glimpse on what might probably be the sight of a lifetime. He felt the cold, nightly breeze upon his face and removed it upward to reveal to them finally on what was behind the helmet. As he placed the helmet under his armpit, he breathed in deeply.

"Surprise." He calmly said.

The reaction from the two was reasonable, and Amion could quickly tell that they were in complete shock at the sight. Eyes bulged wide open, jaws dropped, and the uneasy silence of response was the combination of the perfection of shock and awe.

Amion placed his helmet back on soon after. "Satisfied?"

"B-but," Tristram stuttered. "How...when...who are..."

"Let's make it simple, shall we? We have a job to do." Amion motioned and passed the two. He slightly bumped Yara as she fell quickly to the ground, stunned by the discovery.

"Yara? Yara, get hold of yourself!" Tristram leaned down to bring her back.

Amion didn't bother to look back at the two and moved on without hesitation. However, in truth, he slightly enjoyed the look on their faces when he removed his helmet. It was enough to for him to chuckle about it.


====----====


The old stones of Accornhall was once a majestic place that housed one of the great families of Armello. Their legacy had been built through fairness and generosity and prospered over the land for many years before their fall. All that was left of their inheritance was a grim reminder, an accursed place that damned everyone of a decent life as the wild greens had taken over the castle.

The three arrived at the outskirt to meet a collection of broken statues, faces smeared and damaged beyond recognition to describe the poise and elegance that once marvelled the scenery.

After several attempts to bring the bear back into reality and after several more minutes of recovery, a surge of questions began to burst out from their mouths like a fountain. Amion was no longer smiling, feeling like he was a criminal of some sort when he did nothing wrong, yet.

Amion explained some bits to their annoying questions but remained silent against the more private and personal matters such as where or when he was from and who was he before being sent to this world. It was then that Yara thought of something.

"So if you are a human after all this time then that means Mercurio knew you from the start." Yara deduced.

"More so and less so," Amion said, confirming of her deduction. "But know this that he only met me at a short period after I rescued him and that his visit yesterday was proof of that."

"You rescued him?" The two animals said out loud.

"Again, more so and less so. Left the rat alone once he was rescued. I did not know he was some of the great importance otherwise I would help him even further." Amion lied at that last part. If he had known that the rat was important, he would have left him to the bandits.

The three went through the front of the castle when the smell of wildflowers permeated the area daffodils and marigolds was a pleasant sight to Amion, and he didn't mind the smell, but when he looked back at the two, he could tell they were not enjoying the scene.

"Guess that would explain why it was abandoned," Amion stated. He offered some fabrics for the two to cover their nose before moving onward.

The castle inside was in a state of mess. Much of the vegetation had taken most of the rooms, and discarded items of furniture and other sorts of different wares scattered around the place.

While the two headed off to cover more ground, Amion went towards to the dining room, thinking that Mercurio's men would be there. He went through the dark, narrow hallway with a torch in hand. He quickly stumbled upon a family portrait that depicts the owners of the castle. Much of their identity was lost and beyond recognition. Their faces slashed and torn by either a sharp object or by the natural elements of the weather. He stared at it for an extended period and felt something strange about the picture. He felt as if he should have seen it before. He shook his head from the distraction and pressed on towards the room.

The dining room fared no better than the rest of the place. The ceiling above collapsed below it, and much heavy debris of rock and stone and wood blocked much of the pathway for Amion to give a thorough search. Unable to go no further, he retraced his steps to return to Tristram and Yara.

Back at the narrow hallway, Amion glanced once more at the family portrait to then paused at something. He directed his torch for more light and saw that the painting had restored in its pristine condition. He could see the faces of the family. Their expression showed much joy and happiness. It didn't take long before the painting to deteriorate that their faces decayed and disfigured into hideous abominations.

Amion backed away from the portrait, stunned by the degradation. He rushed to the two in all-out pace and called their names aloud.

"Tristram! Yara!" He cried out. He didn't hear anyone else except his own. He drew his black blade from his sheath and rushed to the center of the castle.

Even with the necklace around his neck, Amion was unable to sense their body heat, and they were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, he heard someone, a whisper, calling out to his name. Its origin came from upstairs as he ascended toward the staircase.

Amion was on the second floor and followed the unknown voice. He dropped his light and instead conjured a red ball of flame around his right hand, lighting brighter than the ordinary torch.

"Show yourself!" Amion demanded, but there was no response.

The unknown voice called out to him, inviting the disguised human further into the unknown. Amion sensed no body heat from far up ahead, but he wouldn't relent or fall back. He soldiered on to follow the voice.
So it ends the summer fun,
Left to be in all
For once we delve summer's heat,
Till approach of fall.

But here remain from beyond,
There to meet its call.
Memories alive complete,
Till approach of fall.
The End of Summer
7/5 Trochee

Meter: 7/5/7/5
Rhyme Scheme: a/b/c/b   or   a/b/a/b

The meter is trochee, which means alternating stressed and unstressed beats in each line, with each line beginning and ending in a stressed syllable. This is a simple lyrical type little poem, so rhymes will be basic, nothing fancy. The poem itself should give a description of something of interest to the poet. There is not a set number of these quatrain type stanzas, but a typical 7/5 Trochee would consist of two quatrains, with the second stanza serving to tie up the idea presented in the first stanza.

Take note, however, that this isn't a traditional style like villanelle or the quatrain, but rather a new style created by Andrea Dietrich. Give her the praise for the new style.
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How I love the summer flair,
crisp of sunny noon,
warm today that stage to dare,
like winds of monsoon.

Close to feel the clouds that gain,
wrap the shrouded sun.
As weather turned, filled with pain,
Lost our joyous fun.
Lost our summer fun
For when that day come close to breach,
The final grasp to sieze the day we reach.

==--==

7/5 Trochee

Meter: 7/5/7/5
Rhyme Scheme: a/b/c/b   or   a/b/a/b

The meter is trochee, which means alternating stressed and unstressed beats in each line, with each line beginning and ending in a stressed syllable. This is a simple lyrical type little poem, so rhymes will be basic, nothing fancy. The poem itself should give a description of something of interest to the poet. There is not a set number of these quatrain type stanzas, but a typical 7/5 Trochee would consist of two quatrains, with the second stanza serving to tie up the idea presented in the first stanza.

Take note, however, that this isn't a traditional style like villanelle or the quatrain, but rather a new style created by Andrea Dietrich. Give her the praise for the new style.
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On summer's day of golden light,
On endless blue above in sight.
On waves of heat that turn us all
And lay to sleep till dawn of fall.

For here present the day of flight
On summer’s day of golden light,
Embrace by wind that blew your face
And walk upon this worldly trace.

The hour to live and live to be,
Against the heat this urge to see.
On summer’s day of golden light,
That we shall rise to play and fight.

Oh joyous sun, let light be long,
Be fierce to bring those worthy strong.
And close to end this season might
On summer’s day of golden light.
On Summer's day
There in the wild, life formed to feel,
This relentless drive, this fiercely zeal.



Quatern

A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. A quatern has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic or follow a set rhyme scheme.

line 1
line 2
line 3
line 4

line 5
line 6 (line 1)
line 7
line 8

line 9
line 10
line 11 (line 1)
line 12

line 13
line 14
line 15
line 16 (line 1)
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...for a moment...

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:iconmercenaryblade:
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
A fine birthday wish to you!
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Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks! :)
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thieviusracoonus Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2017
Thanks for the llama.
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Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
:iconmnrthumbsupplz: 
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Bunnywappet Featured By Owner May 23, 2017
Hi. I've been watching your captivating YT channel since the very beginning and silly me just discovered your account here , keep up the amazing work .
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Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner May 25, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
I thank you for the compliment. :)
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MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!!!
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Cedric-Scorch Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Making a late reply: Thank you :)
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MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! Thanks for the watch btw!
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MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner May 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank for the fave!
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