Ranger Chronicles Ep. 01

Author's Note: This is a story inspired by Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft, and Elder Scrolls. I'm not a good writer, so forgive my lack of flow or cohesion. There's probably a few grammatical errors as well. This is story about a Ranger named Kalan who captured and used as breeding material

Also, the sex doesn't start until far down (The scene where Kalan, Ralph, Cleitus and Lain fight in the Arena naked). So, if you're only interested in that, the background really isn't important. Just know that Kalan is a very strong Half-Elf Ranger who was raised by a wizard named Alatar. While on a mission he is captured by a Drow named Jhannel Nimiri to become her slave and breeding stock. Scroll down to where it says chapter 2

Preface:

Syl hastened down the hallways of Skywatch Palace with a pail of steaming water in her right, hot towels under her arm, and a tray of medical tools in her left. Even two floors down Lady Aryenn's cries could be heard as if she were next door.

It had been a year since the Humans had defeated the elven army in a border skirmish which had escalated into a full-blown battle, resulting in the murder of General Eldarin, and the capture of his wife, Lady Aryenn, sister to the King. The news of the defeat alone had been enough to shock the Kingdom, but when an Eldar of such noble birth had returned pregnant, by a human no less, it was enough to send the Palace into panic. Even as a servant Syl knew that if word of this pregnancy were to spread, the Kingdom would enter a frenzy, rioting would begin the next day, and war with the humans would be inevitable. Most important to the King, Lady Aryenn's life would be forfeit, as the High Priests would demand the immediate enforcement of the Purity Law. For an Elf to share the most sacred blood of Tyr with one of the lesser races? Surely the gods must have been punishing them for their lack of faith to allow such an atrocity to occur. Syl muttered a prayer to Tyr under her breath.

She exited the dungeon wells and scaled the granite steps, entering the main hall. A few rays of dawn poked through the colored glass into her eyes, forcing her to squint. Some servants walked the halls performing their usual duties. It was an eerie silence compared to just a few days before, when these same halls had been bustling with the rabble of sycophantic nobles going here and there. The King had been wise to clear the Palace of anyone unnecessary and limit news of the pregnancy. Only the royal family, a few trusted servants, and the Guardians were left.

She hefted the pail of water with a grunt, careful not to drop any tools. She noted that these were likely the most expensive things she would ever carry and losing or breaking a few would result in her withdrawn pay at best, and her few possessions confiscated to pay for them at worst. It was uncommon for an Elven woman to give birth, and when one did, a Court Mage was usually there to heal the pain away. Archon Alatar, Court Mage to the King, had chosen to make one of his semi-regular disappearances a week ago, so they had been left with fanciful tools and personal knowledge to deliver this child safely. It was fortunate that Queen Elenwen had given birth not a month ago, allowing them to improvise with the tools they still had. What did that fool think he was doing? His skill could mean the difference between life or death for Lady Aryenn. She could never fathom why the King put up with him.

All these fancy tools and seemed unnatural to Syl: Elven women birthed children every day in the country side without a mage or doctor but take them away from a noble and they could risk death. Tyr must have resolved to punish these City-Eldar for their faithless ways after their years of debauchery. She muttered another prayer, asking Tyr to guide the City-Eldar from their faithless ways.

Syl reached the second floor and dashed down the hallway, spilling a sizable amount of water onto the carpet. Two Guardians (the King's Guard, as the humans would call them) in silvery armor, white capes and long flowing hair stood at the sides of a large door as sentries. They threw her a quick glance, and returned to staring straight ahead. She tried to not make eye contact. These were the soldiers that recused Lady Aryenn after negotiations had failed. They were a skilled, yet esoteric group, being masters of both sword and magic. The Guardians, with their immovable, stone faces had always scared Syl. She had only seen them converse with one another and had never seen one even crack a grin. They only seemed to answer to whichever Noble was commanding them, anyone else was only a potential threat to their eyes.

Syl placed her left hand on the door and focused her mana. It recognized her with a soft click and opened. She entered, and it snapped shut behind her. She placed the pail of water and a tray of tools on the ground.

It seemed they were no longer needed. Laid on the bed like a bloody angel was Lady Aryenn. Her long auburn hair flowed across the bed like water. Her dull eyes, as blue as the summer clouds, stared at the ceiling. She seemed lifeless, as if her soul yearned for oblivion. In front of her was a maid - Syl had forgotten her name, Nera, perhaps? - holding a crying newborn male. Across the bed in silvery robes stood King Thranduil and Queen Elenwen, solemn. Nera looked around, unsure of what to do the being writhing in her arms. Syl gave her a shrug. The Queen gave lady Aryenn's hand a tight squeeze, concerned.

"Must we do this, Thranduil? This action has no honor," said the Queen.

"The half-breed was a product of broken honor, Elenwen." Said the King. "You know as well as I that it must be done. If this thing is discovered, the Eld-sum will use it to gain power - possibly revolt. The Great Houses and Priory would join them, and perhaps they would be justified in that. Aryenn will live out the rest of her life in our protection, and any memory of a human having the Blood of Tyr will be destroyed." The Queen's grimaced deepened. Syl understood the Queen's the compassion, but this child was a product of sin. Its destruction was a tragedy, but the only way forward.

"I don't wish to witness such an act, Thranduil." The King nodded in understanding. He looked to Syl and Nera, and they snapped to attention.

"You two, deliver it to the barracks and return here immediately." They strode out of the room, eager exit that somber scene. The child continued crying, eager for a mother's touch it would never know. When they were out of earshot, Nera spoke in hushed tones:

"Did you see lady Aryenn?"

"The worst birthing I've seen," Syl replied with a nod.

"She looked like Balthazar himself was ready to snatch her."

"She must have been under stress. It's amazing she still lives at all, the poor thing." Syl shivered in disgust. "Can you imagine what the humans did to her? Any unprepared Eldar would die from the shame alone. I know I would. I'm surprised it isn't dead already." An Elven birth was different from a human's in that the mother's state of mind could impact the health of the child. Despite his Aryenn's depression, the child still seemed as active as ever. She spared the newborn a glance. It had the eyes and hair of it's mother, but it's face and ears were human. She knew what they were about to do was for the best. The life that awaited this child was hard one. It was best to end it now while they could.

A young Elf in blue robes strode toward them. He was tall, with high cheekbones, long blonde hair, and a handsome face. Syl recognized him immediately as Archon Alatar, court mage to the King and head mage of the entire Kingdom. He held a humanoid figure in his arms. Wasn't he supposed to be helping with the birthing? His healing would be invaluable. "Hey," Syl began, "Where have you been for the past hours? The King has..." A flash of light emanated from his staff. Syl halted. A fierce white light surrounded her. It went as quick as it came, and she found herself staring at a pillar.

"Syl? Syl? Are you okay?" Nera gave her a concerned look.

"Did you see that?"

"See what exactly?"

"The Archon, he was just here!" Nera frowned, concerned.

"Syl, he's been gone for days now."

"Yes of course. It was nothing. Just the stress getting to me." She resolved that the stress day and the night before must have been getting to her. "Let's be on our way." They continued to the barracks. Syl found herself uncomfortable in the eerie dawn silence. Wasn't the child crying before?

"Say, Nera, how'd you manage to calm it down?"

"Oh yes. I suppose it just needed the magic touch I gave it," She rubbed it's back and the child only responded with a slight murmur.

They reached the Barracks, and found a lone Guardian waiting for them on a stool. A scar was strewn across his left cheek from his temple to chin. His blonde hair reached to his midsection. His silvery plate seemed to glimmer in the dim light. This was the one they called Ancano, Commander of the Guardians. Ancano stood. Nera placed the child on the ground near him and turned to exit.

The Guardian stuck his sword in Nera's neck. Syl screamed. A flash of steel reached her chin and she was flying. She landed on the ground with a thud. She saw Nera, very much dead, strewn across the floor.

Was that her body across from her?

The Guardian brought its sword against the child. She could only think of the King's words in the bedchamber: any memory of a human with the blood of Tyr must be destroyed. Her vision went black, and her thoughts drifted into nothingness.

Episode 1:

Chapter 1:

Kalan donned his padded leather and chainmail and exited his tent. He carried a spear and shield on his back, and a bastard sword at his side. The reach of the spear would come in handy should they come into traditional battle, which, while unusual for the Syndicate, was still a possibility; the sword would be useful in the tight mountain passes and caves of Dragon's Nest, where a quick foot or maneuver could mean the difference between life and death.

His breath became mist as he walked toward the General's tent. The weather this high up seemed to alternate between snowing one day, and clear another with no in-between. It was cold and bitter, with not one day of march being above freezing. Despite that, the fools still seemed to throw a festival every other night. In a few minutes the sun would poke its warm beams of dawn over the Dragon's Nest Mountains, putting a start to the day and proving some warmth. He moved to walk around a hungover soldier who slept by a dying fire with a female friend. He stopped, recognizing the man. His 'friend' was most likely a prostitute. Last night, like most nights, had been a party for the army. Kal was amazed that these people had managed to turn the frigid slopes of the Dragon's Nest Mountains into a festival, yet they had managed. How had the One-Eyes not eaten through their entire supply when they seemed to have a festival every other night? Tyr must have been turning dirt into food for them as he did in The Blessings. He would have to raise this issue with General Aberdeen.

"Sergeant Ralph." No answer. The man was out cold. He spoke louder, placing his boot on Ralp's midsection. "Sergeant Ralph," he said with a kick. Ralph opened a wary eye. He eyes widened as he noticed his Commanding Officer looming over him. "Can I ask what in Oblivion is one my Sergeants is doing passed out in the middle of camp?" Kal reached out his hand and helped him up. Ralph was a shorter, yet stockier man with dark brown hair and round features.

"Oh I'm sorry sir, Kalan, sir. Cleitus' men threw a party last night you see and..." His face turned a slight red. He turned and hunched. He began to gag, spitting out a green liquid. "I think ate a bit much..."

"The food and drink aren't problems, Ralph - the problem is passing out in the middle of camp. Look, we'll talk about this when I get back, all right?" He said with a pat on the shoulder. "Get back to barracks and stay there for the day." Ralph nodded and limped back the barracks. His female friend rose with a groan.

"Hold a moment, Officer," she said, "That grunt owes me a gold piece! I let the slob stick it - "

"I don't want to know about it." He fished a gold piece from his back pocket and placed it onto her palm. "Here. And try to stay away from my men. I could have you disciplined, even as a camp-servant, for distracting a soldier from his duty."

"Oh, yes, I know," She said with a smile. "You know, Officer, I've heard the men talking, and I give discounts for the handsome and the educated."

"No. Back to the camp with you. I've places to be." She gave him a wink. He continued his way.

Kal had been traveling with the mercenary band of Aberdeen One-Eye for six months now after Alatar had directed him to observe their efforts and assist in any way possible. So far, the expedition had been fruitless. Aside from destroying a base they came across every so often, nothing had been done to even dent the Syndicate. Most of their time had been spent marching, hoping the Syndicate would attack so they could have something to strike at.

As a Ranger, Kal had first began fighting the Syndicate when Alatar had stationed his squadron here three years ago. They had almost succeeded in wiping the cultists out and were on the verge of finding their main base of operations when the King had recalled them to assist in the war with the Empire. Balthazar himself couldn't have understood Kal's fury at the news. He had spent three years of his life fighting these criminal-cultists just to see them rise again. Had all that effort, all those lives, been wasted? Not to mention that he'd been recalled from the Imperial War once it was practically over. The only thing left was the sacking of the Imperial Capital, possibly the greatest military feat the Kingdom had ever accomplished, yet all the glory would go to the 'valiant' Knights, and none to the Rangers that had made even fighting the battle possible. It was the price of operating from the shadows, he supposed. At least the King and Nobles knew what they had done.

As the Imperial war was for all purposes over, Alatar had managed to convince the King to at least station a small mercenary force here to make sure the Syndicate would not regain territory. Alatar had chosen Kal to station with the One-Eye's to make sure the Syndicate didn't bribe the them into a halt.

Obtaining an officer's position had been trivial: a good vocabulary (sounding like a noble was enough) and a few gold pieces into the recruiter's hands was all it took. It was this corruption that had made Kal wary of the King's decision to use the One-Eye's to fight the Syndicate. For all their talk of honor and brotherhood, anyone in this army could be bought for the right price, including the army itself. The Syndicate, with its endless pockets, would have no trouble bribing the army into a halt, and maybe turning it against the Kingdom. He was to prevent this at any cost.

Kal pushed open the thick leather flaps of General's Aberdeen's tent and stood beside the round table. The seats were reserved for high officers or anyone Aberdeen happened to fancy. Only a few officers were around, eating breakfast and conversing. Kal studied the map on the round table. It marked the possible bases used by the Syndicate and possible paths to hit all of them. Kal frowned. As expected, Aberdeen, or whoever made his strategy, had no idea on how to fight the Syndicate. They had to be trapped, pinned, and then destroyed, with a focus on targeting their leadership to leave them in a permanent state of disarray. Trying to attack each base head-on like a normal army was fruitless, as they would only retreat to another of the infinite caves in these endless mountains. He had learned this first-hand. If this plan came to fruition, the One-Eye's would destroy base after base (If they could destroy them, as they seemed to have no mages) only to find themselves picked off one by one. Aberdeen had to know of this. He made a mental note to bring it up during the meeting.

"Up early, eh, Lieutenant Kalan?" Kal snapped to attention. He turned to find Captain Lain, an older Dwarf with peppered hair and a round face. Kal raised an open fist to his sternum in the One-Eyes salute. Lain had been the first Dwarf Kal had ever met (or at least the first one who admitted he was a Dwarf). Aside from their large noses, and slightly shorter stature (it was a myth among humans that Dwarves were as tall as human children), they could blend into human society well.

"Morning, Sir!" Kal exclaimed.

"Easy, soldier," said Lain with a chuckle. "I'm here to talk, not to command. You seem up early today. Do you enjoy having the same schedule of a Vampire, or are you a natural tight-ass?"

"I believe the meeting is supposed to start in a few minutes sir!" Lain shook his head.

"Call me Lain for now. Now let me tell you how things work here, tight-ass, since you're new. Aberdeen timed the meeting at dawn, but what that really means is 'start arriving at dawn, but the meeting begins after I've had my morning beer,' so feel free to come in a few minutes late."

"Yes, I understand." Kal resisted a grimace. These people are doomed, he thought, no amount of advice can discipline an army.

"The whole reason I left the Mountains in the first place was to get away from all that uptight bullshit." Lain threw an arm around Kal's shoulder, bringing him close. "These are good people, Kal, you just gotta learn the rules."

You mean whose palms to grease and when? Lain began dragging him to the breakfast table.

"You know Kalan, I've been thinking about something. How old are you?"

"Nineteen." He smiled.

"I have a daughter," Kal tried to keep his face straight, he could already tell where this was going, "Two years younger than you. And you seem to have caught her eye." Lain poked a finger into his chest, as if to emphasize the connection. "What do you think about coming over to my tent for dinner tonight, eh? I'd have no problem with Marg going to an educated young man such as yourself." Kal wondered if Lain would still be interested in this match once he found out that he had no lands or wealth to inherit. Lain had assumed just because he sounded like a noble, he would have some connections, when that couldn't be farther from the truth. This was going to be a rough few days.

Kalan sneezed. Was someone talking about him somewhere? He marched his Platoon through the crags of the Dragon's Nest. Cleitus' Platoon was just in front of him. Captain Lain was behind him with the rest of the Company. Kal tried not to think of their dinner - that had been especially uncomfortable.

Kalan's attempts to dissuade Aberdeen from this had been in vain. Aberdeen wouldn't listen to a Lieutenant, and any attempts to bribe his way to Aberdeen's ear were akin to throwing his coin down a well and wishing for luck. It was likely that the Syndicate had employed a General Officer to carry out this plan before Kalan had joined. Yet who? Kal had investigated every General Officer except Lain, who was unlikely to be the culprit, and Aberdeen, who was certainly not the culprit, as the One-Eye's would have gone over to the Syndicate already had that been the case. He turned to glance at Lain behind him. The Dwarf galloped along his steed, studying his force. He eyes would travel to the top of the Crags every now and then, as if waiting for something to appear. Perhaps his trust in the Dwarf had been misplaced. He made a mental note to investigate Lain once they arrived.