If you love to write about your characters and friends in game, or if you know someone else who does, we would love to hear from you! Have your stories featured on the Herald! We welcome any stories that are set in the environment of Dark Age of Camelot. All that we ask is that you please spellcheck your entries before you sent them to us, and please keep your tales under 5,000 words. Like all features on the Herald, your tales should be appropriate for a PG-rated audience.

Without further delay, enjoy these two fantastic tales of glory and defeat!

Betrayed
By Saeraphyna of Nimue

“Where is he”, she cried, entering the guild house almost at a run. A scroll was crushed in her left hand, her right grasped the hilt of her sword at her side. 

“What’s going on Saera?” Cuabad asked, not daring to move or interrupt his concentration on the gem he was almost done crafting.  Saeraphyna rushed past Cuabad at the workbench, practically running up the stairs to the 2nd floor of the guild house.  Her booted feet on the hardwood floors could be heard as she moved around.  Almost immediately she was coming back down the stairs, a look of disbelief on her face. 
Rythe entered the guild house at almost the same time, as Saeraphyna slumped down into a chair. 

“How could he do this..” she whispered, sounding drained.  Her fair skin was made paler by the shock that was obviously hitting her system.  She ran a nervous hand through her short blond hair.  Her blue eyes searched around the room for an answer to her questions. Rythe took one look at the situation and correctly assumed that something very significant had just happened to his guild leader. 

“Saera” he started, “what happened, you look like you’ve been through something horrible”, he finished.  Quietly he pulled up a chair and sat across from her, near the hearth.  Cuabad, having just finished the gem he was working on, turned from the workbench, wiping his hands on a rag. 

“Who’s he, for one thing, and what is the ruckus about?” His voice was full of curiosity, now that he could focus his attention elsewhere.

“You’ll not believe me once I tell you,” Saeraphyna said slowly.  The words sounded drawn out, almost catching in her throat. Weakly, she reached forth her hand, passing the scroll to Cuabad.  He quickly unrolled it and began to read out loud for the benefit of Rythe. 

”Dearest Saeraphyna,

I’m sorry that you are receiving the news in this fashion, but I saw no other choice.  I have decided that I must leave the guild and move on.  There no longer is a place for me in the Realms.  I must take my chances and move on.  I’ve sold my commission to a friend, Fredrick.  He has all of my guild papers, and has instruction on what to do with my house and contents.  I’m sorry that I had to take leave like this, but I saw no other way to break ties.  It kills me to have had to lie to you.  I will repay you on my honor as soon as I reach my destination.  Good luck, have a good life and goodbye. Nogard”

“What does it mean?” Saeraphyna turned her face to her guild mates, tears streaming down her face, the loss of her husband, her mate, showing in her voice. Dismay and shock were evident on the faces of her guild mates.  Rythe turned to look into the fire, unable to bear to see the tears in Saeraphyna’s eyes any longer.  Cuabad carefully rolled the scroll back up, a thoughtful look replacing the shock on his face. Ever the thinker, he crossed his arms and silently tapped the scroll against his chin.  Saeraphyna’s quiet tears and the crackling fire of the guild hearth the only sounds for the moment.

“Well, we must go on,” Cuabad said quietly, the conviction evident in his voice.
 
“Aye”, Rythe agreed, turning away his gaze from the fire.  Saeraphyna looked up to him, the silent appeal in her eyes. 

“What shall I do?” she whispered the question, closing her eyes and wiping her tears.  Rythe offered a kerchief, and she smiled gratefully at his thoughtful gesture. 

“Well,” Rythe responded, “we must look for this Fredrick, perhaps he can shed some light on the subject for us.”

“He’s been unhappy for so long”, Saeraphyna started, “I know he’s been wanting to leave for some time, but I never thought he would, and not like this,” her voice trailed off. A knock at the door of the guild house startled them all.  Cuabad quickly crossed over to see who it was.  A stranger wearing Nogard’s colors stood at the front door, a hesitant look on his face.  He was stocky and broad-shouldered as only a male Shar could be.

“I’m Fredrick. You can call me Fred” he bowed. Cuabad invited him inside, curiosity evident on his tattooed face. “I’m here to drop off some gold to Saeraphyna, and perhaps offer some sort of an explanation”, Fred started.  He began to immediately pace around the room.  His eyes were downcast, as if he knew that the tidings he carried were of grave import to the people before him.

“Nogard has put in a request for the guild to be disbanded”, he began again.  Gasps simultaneously arose from Searaphyna, Rythe and Cuabad, their attention already riveted on him. 

”But…why?” Saeraphyna almost screamed.  Her composure already badly shaken, it took every effort to keep from jumping up and confronting the stranger. 

”He felt that the guild would not stand, with only one guild leader, namely you.” Fred stated simply.  He looked at her, his eyes asking for her to understand.  He was after all only the messenger.  He halted his pacing to stand quietly, his hands unmoving at his sides.  He took a deep breath and continued, “Cuabad, here is the deed of transfer for Nogard’s house”.  He removed a document that was tucked in at his belt.  He moved forward and handed it to Cuabad.  Cuabad mutely took the document, the weight of the paper seeming to be more than he could bear.  Fred then swiftly turned to Saeraphyna and placed a pouch on the table in front of her.
 
“Here are the funds that Nogard was holding for the guild,” he stated.  Fred’s discomfort at the difficult mission upon which he’d been sent showed plainly on his face.  It was not his wish to be here, but he felt that he owed it to his friend to handle these few requests.  ”I must take my leave of you now. I’m sorry that things occurred the way that they did, Nogard asked that no one attempt to follow him or find him”.   He was about ready to go and then turned to Saeraphyna.  He wished that he could explain to the lady warden before him, all that was going on, but knew that anything he said would not answer all of her questions.  He nervously ran a hand through his sandy hair.

“What could I have possibly done that he wishes this?” Saeraphyna asked, her eyes lost in the trail of recent memories.

“I don’t know, only that he felt that he had to go, and that he was in a towering rage, and when he gets like he was last night…he only wishes to destroy everything in his past,” he answered.
 
“Is this some sort of threat?” Rythe asked quietly, his voice defensive.  He faced Fred, one eyebrow cocked in challenge.  His body tensed beneath his leather armor, ready for action. Fred, sensing the danger, immediately put up both of his hands in an open palmed gesture.

“No, no you don’t understand, there is no threat,” his words tumbling out.  “I was but trying to give you a view into who Nogard is,” he finished, his hands falling once again at his sides.
“Why would he want to destroy me, us, the guild?” Saeraphyna asked, the hurt evident in her voice.  She looked searchingly into Fred’s face, hoping to find the answer there. 
“It’s not, I’m…not sure….I don’t think he cared for you very much, Saera,” he answered using the familiar usage of her name.
Saeraphyna looked at his rather sharply, only those close to her used that name. 
”And how did you know to seek us out here? Seek me out?”, her voice angry now.  Her blue eyes, flashing fire.  She stood facing Fred, her fists clenched. 
”I think you should go now, you’ve done your duty,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Thank you for your time Fred,” Cuabad interrupted, before Saeraphyna could say anything else, “we understand you are but the messenger”.  And he nodded, as if to tell Fred that it was time for him to leave. Fred noted the expressions upon the three people in front of him, mentally agreed and turned to depart.  He paused at the door. “I’m sorry and I wish you all well.”, with that he was through the door and gone.

“Whew”, Rythe exclaimed as soon as the door had closed.  He turned to the fuming Saeraphyna. 
“Well, what next?”
She surprised herself by reacting with the first thought and a coherent one at that that came to her head. 
“We must seek the advice of the High Council, before we make a move”.

Saeraphyna moved quickly and penned a quick note of explanation, and contacted a messenger to take the message to the High Council.  Knowing that in matters such as this, speed was of the essence the youth moved with all speed.  Saeraphyna had paid him handsomely to wait and return with the Council’s answer.  She proceeded to pace. 

“Would you please stop pacing Saera, the Council will answer quickly I’m sure,” Cuabad spoke, trying to reassure his shaken guild leader.  He had returned to the workbench and was putting his tools away.  No use trying to concentrate on his crafting now, his own thoughts were too scattered, to try. 

”I can’t understand why, he would do such a thing, I mean, he’s already left,” Rythe chipped in.  He had tried not to fidget too badly, while turning the matter over in his head.  His pale face intent on staring at his fingers, steepled in front of him.  “What good, to what purpose would it serve?” he began again.  He looked up at Cuabad, wishing he could be as calm. 
Cuabad turned to look at Rythe and sighed, he knew to a degree that his guildies looked to him for solace.  He was ever the one with quiet insight into many matters, but this one was so unexpected that he was at a loss for words of comfort.

Very shortly their thoughts were interrupted by the knock at the guild house door.  The messenger had returned.  Saeraphyna quickly removed the seal and ribbon binding the scroll.  Her fingers were shaking as she unrolled the scroll.   “Ayiiieeeeeee”, she cried, collapsing to her knees on the floor.  Tears were streaming down her face in a renewed torrent. 
Cuabad gently reached down and took the scroll from her hands.  Quickly reading the contents, he looked up to Rythe. 
“The High Council, has already granted Nogard’s request.”  He sighed and rolled up the scroll.
“We will have to make some decisions then,” he started…suddenly the impact of what had just occurred striking through his calm exterior.  He quickly started taking several deep breaths. 
“We must stay together,” Rythe answered.  His face showing his determination. 
“We’ve always stayed strong in adversity”.
Rythe bent over and gently drew Saeraphyna to her feet, leading her to a chair.  Her sobs coming slower; she felt a weak as a newborn kitten. 
“We will have to choose my friends,” her voice not much more than a whisper.  She wiped her face and took several deep breaths before continuing. “We can either decide to go our separate ways, ask to merge with another guild, or begin anew,” she finished.  Looking down at her hands, she gently removed the wedding ring that Nogard had given her on their wedding day.  Knowing in her heart that their union was no more.  Her innate ability to work through a crisis began to kick in, as details of what must be done flooded her mind. 

Saeraphyna stood up and looked at her guild mates.  She knew that she had to carry on, if not for herself, then for them. 
“Okay, we must needs call together a guild wide emergency meeting, and most of our guild mates are on missions, or sabbatical”.  “We must send out messengers to all and request that they come at once, this must be decided by all.” 

Quicker than was expected guild members answered the call , knowing that they wouldn’t have been asked if it were not of vital importance. 
                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Endy came storming into the guild settlement, striding quickly to the guild house.   The look on his face was murderous.  Saeraphyna looked up from the alchemy table, as Endy burst through the front door.  His anger was legendary, but she was still very relieved to see one of her most trusted of friends.  Quickly she moved forward and stopped short of giving him a hug, knowing his distaste for such physical displays of affection.  But she smiled at him, even as his anger broke over her in waves. 
“What by all that’s sacred did he think he was doing?!”, Endy all but shouted.  His eyes were filled with the flames of his anger.  How dare someone do what they had done, to his friends, to his guild?  The young enchanter wanted badly to cast flames and firebolts to appease his anger.
“I wish I knew the answer to that question, Endy,” Saeraphyna answered quietly.  She turned to look into the flames of the hearth, not unlike the flames in Endy’s anger filled eyes. “He left, without much warning, I fear…and took what he could” “He had no right, what so ever, all we’ve ever done is support him…I told you he’d turn on us, didn’t I?” Endy demanded.  It was well known that there was no love lost between Nogard and Endy.  Saeraphyna had desperately championed them both to one another in many attempts to bridge the gap between the two. 
“Yes, my friend…but I…”she sighed and looked at him, tears threatening to fall again. 
“I wasn’t ready to accept what was happening, so subtly before me,” she finished, looking down at her hands clasped in front of her. “He was my husband Endy, someone I loved dearly,” she said very softly.  She looked again at the hand that had worn Nogard’s ring for so long.  She’d taken it off the day the news and the stranger had arrived.  In her hurt…she threw it into the fire, and watched the gold shimmer and become a molten lump that disappeared into the ashes.  It had felt strange since then.  She’d appealed the local council and had removed the SilverDragon name, from her title. 
“Saera, I know that it hurts, but so many of us tried to warn you,” Endy chided gently.  His voice softening somewhat after his initial explosion.  He sighed and leaned against his staff, wishing that his friend didn’t have to go through, what he and other’s had been afraid of happening.  He hated being right.  His intuition had been ringing warning bells for so long, it was almost a relief that it was over. 
“And so we go on, we can’t allow what’s happened to tear the people apart even if the High Council has allowed for the disbandment of the guild,” Saeraphyna stated quietly.  Her eyes held a faraway look. 
“Have you contacted Keeshia and the rest?” Endy inquired, knowing that there was a lot of work ahead. “I’ve sent messengers out to as many as I can,” Saeraphyna answered and then continued,  “Keeshia contacted me, she’d heard of what had happened…and offered her aide.”
“I was very happy to hear that she was not bearing me any anger for the events of the past that Nogard was a part of.”  “She was most generous, and has offered up suggestions, to help us,” Saeraphyna finished.  
     
~~~~~~~~~

And friends from nearby guilds also answered with offers of aide.  Even the Alliance leaders sent forth their sympathies for the guild’s loss and asked what help could they render. Meetings and research followed many sleep-starved nights.  Moving of furniture, trophies and merchants were already accomplished with the assistance of friends from a sister guild.  In very short order the old guild house as stripped of everything, as it was soon to be repossessed.  Cuabad in his usual selfless manner offered his home, to be the new guild home.  A strong name was chosen, Esprit de Draconis.  The High Council approved their charter and the emblem that they chose, an oak tree with a star in a green and white background.  They had Keeshia to thank for the design. 
The sun shone upon the capital city of Tir Na Nog.  Even in the early morning hours, the city was bustling with trade.  It was quiet in the palace, where Saeraphyna and her guild mates met.  They smiled at each other.  They’d all worked hard to stay together.  Saeraphyna donned her newly emblazoned cloak and slowly turned around.  Humanmullet whistled in appreciation of the new guild symbol.  One by one they each tried on the new cloaks, a silent tribute to their unity.  Cuabad usually so reserved could not help himself and gave a loud “Woot”, and they all started laughing.  The tension from all the days of preparation draining away in that happy sound.  They had weathered much loss, but all had come to realize in recent days, that they could rejoice in their steadfast friendship.  There was still much work to do, but there was time now to accomplish that.  Working together, as the team that their experiences had forged them into, they had indeed become Esprit de Draconis.

    Umhal of Hibernia kicked his legs out and relished the warmth of the big central fire in his modest home in Kilcullen.  The smell of roasting ox wafted up from the central cook pot and his mouth watered.  His callused and gnarled old hand closed around the cellar-chilled pewter of his ale tankard, and Umhal sighed and settled deeper into his throne-like chair.  A sip of the cool, bracing ale and his eyes roamed around his house, the record of his adventures cached in chests and woven into the tapestries.  He saw trophies and honors, mementos of battles both victories and defeats.  In this room were the collected reminders of friends who were no longer a part of this world and, aye, enemies as well.  He wished them all well, foe and compatriot alike.
    This last battle in the frontier had been one of the most harrowing in his long defense of Hibernia.  He had risen late that day; the raid was planned for sunset, or a little later.  His war guild the Tuatha de Danann, so named after the old gods of Hibernia, had mustered at Druim Cain.  Many Hibernian war bands had been staging there that evening.  This fact alone both excited the blood of the old Firbolg, and concerned him.   For if there were many raids along the borders or even, deep into enemy lands, the wrath of the warriors of Arthur could be a terrible thing.  He had once heard that a mighty warlord had said of a great host that his enemy was “So numerous that their arrows could darken the sun.”  Umhal was uncertain if this long ago warrior had spoken of the armies of Albion, but even if he had not, the idea was comparable.  Umhal chuckled at the reply that his friend Terenor had made at that claim of arrows and a darkened sun.  “Well then,” he had replied, “we shall fight in the shade.”  It was only much later that Terenor had told him that long ago in his youthful travels he had come across a stone marked in strange scripture of a language he had never seen, and an old hermit had translated for him, exactly those selfsame words spoken long ago on a distant battlefield.
    In any event, Umhal’s war band had equipped themselves with the raw materials for several battle rams and even a trebuchet in the unlikely event that the call to arms went out for an assault on a mighty fortress and not just a tower, which was his modest force’s goal.
    Umhal took a quick count and frowned with slight apprehension, “so few” he thought, “there are just so few of us left.”  Umhal remembered when the Tuatha de Danann could field three full battle groups and still have warriors and Eldriches at the hearth and forge creating magical wonders and weapons of fire and iron.  However, those who were left were, like he, battle scarred veterans of hundreds and in a few cases thousands of fights.  There was Taph, of course, his co-Guild Master: ever faithful, mighty in battle, as quick on his feet as a cat and a Warden like himself.  Taph’s wife Anayron: a fierce and sharp witted Heroine, as steady in a hail of magical fire as in a flurry of Midgardian snow.  Taph’s brother Paice: an excellent bard, and as quick of finger as he was of tongue.  Terenoir the Druid: one of the guild mates that Umhal himself had recruited.  Never had he regretted that decision. Terenoir had proven himself to be quick, reliable, tactically brilliant, and powerful in the ways of Hibernia’s old gods. Terenoir had saved every member of the war band from certain death and defeat more times than any of them could remember. 
 There, near Terenoir, was Cardidinne the Eldritch.  A dark and foreboding figure he cut, crackling black energies seemed to stand around him and his deep indigo eyes were like twin windows into the hell of Hibernia’s fury.  Cardidinne the Insane, more than one guild mate had called him, for he wore no amour to speak of and possessed the typical physical frailty of one who studied arcane arts. Nonetheless, his tendency to sprint away from the protection of the warrior steel and stand alone against the enemies of Hibernia was legendary, or infamous, depending on who was telling the tale.  Many times Umhal had seen him standing, briefly silhouetted against the ridgeline, hurling bolt after bolt of lethal black fire into the hearts of the enemy hordes regardless of his own well-being.  Nearby, Standing proudly, facing the north, visibly ready to depart and easily topping eight feet in height, was Happytree the Hero, the mightiest warrior in the war band.  Hap wielded the ancient and revered Hibernian weapon the Celtic Spear. It was devastating weapon that both the Knights of Albion and the Warlords of Midgard respected, especially in the capable, lethal hands of Happytree of Tuatha.  Hap glanced around and cast a querying eye across us all, as if to silently say “are ye ready?”
    We all nodded our assent. The fight was on.
    Taph, the battle group’s most proficient Bard, struck up a rousing traveling tune on his mystical Harp. Tuatha de Danann moved forward into the twilight.
    At first all seemed to be moving along perfectly.  Albion had taken a small and relatively unimportant tower from Hibernia near the fortress of nGed.  Our Tuatha war band meant to reclaim it and raise our standard there, whatever the cost.  We arrived and quickly disposed of the small garrison of defenders. Happytree, Anayron and Taph charged forward while Terenoir and I held back as reserves.  The fighting ensued and the garrison was quickly disposed of.  Several quick thrusts from Happytree’ mighty Celtic Spear, Anyron’s quick sword and Taph’s hammer finished them before Cardidinne could call forth his dark and terrible magic.  Once the battle was over, we all set to work assembling the rams.  Long experience paired with Taph’s alchemical magic made this a simple and straightforward task. In a matter of only a few minutes we had a ram assembled and were rolling toward the door.  The garrison inside, sensing doom, began their spell to call for aid.
    The ram’s booming strikes hammered out a doleful cadence.  As our war band heaved with all our might at the oaken door, a curious feeling of doom crept over me.  Without warning, an avalanche of burning oil spilled down from the tower above, searing all in its path. The ram offered some small protection but it was not enough. Terenoir called forth the healing wonders of his magic and the horrible burns of a moment ago were nothing but a fading memory.  The ram had suffered some damage, but our war band was resolute.  Four more times did the flaming oil splash into our ranks and four times did Terenoir call for the magics from the heart of Hibernia to keep us whole and fighting. 
     With a gut-wrenching lurch, the tower gateway gave and the ram skittered to a stop just inside the door.  Inside, the remnants of the garrison and several Knights of Albion stood ready for the worst we could throw at them.
     I summoned the most primeval power of a Warden, and a tangling weed field of vines and thorns sprang up from the paving stones of the tower’s lowest floor.  The warriors of Arthur, knowing that a charge was imminent, and already having taken damage, moved immediately up the stairs to the relative safety of the second floor.  Happytree, his spear flaming wildly with mystical fire, Anayron, and Taph charged into the bottom floor, mercifully immune to the flailing tangling thorns of my Wardens’ magic.  Taph began a chant of protection, Umhal began a chant of wounding, Terenoir summoned his healing powers and readied his spell of poison, Cardidinne prepared to sling his bolts of death and destruction, Happy tree checked his amour and readied his spear, Anayron moved closer to Happytree to offer him the protection of her shield and Paice began a song of rage to inspire the Hibernians in the fight to come.
    First up the keep stairs was Happytree, and into a raging pit of hell he moved, laughing all the way.  Terenoir summoned all the healing power that was his to use, granted by the old gods of Hibernia.  His hands blurred and glowed white-hot with the power he was channeling, all to keep Happytree alive.  Before I could track her, Anayron had joined Happytree in the chaos of the melee.  Bashing with her shield, slashing with her sword even catching the occasional stroke meant for Happytree she was a dance of death around the mighty Firbolg.  Taph and Cardidinne moved next: Taph into the thick of the fray, Cardidinne to the door where, much like Terenoir, only with a wicked gleam of murderous glee in his eye, he began to call forth the dark side of the Isle Emerald.  He inflicted a stunning barrage of sparkling death upon the sons and daughters of Arthur.  I had to turn away from the searing, brutal glare, and while my gaze was turned, I saw our doom.
    There across the sward just outside the tower, I saw the charge of the Valkyries. The sons of Thor had come.

To be continued…