Heleion Archives

2nd of March, 456th of NDE. Cheyara, North of Central Eoran.

            The town of Cheyara sat a few hundred kilometers south from the border. A small town with around two thousand and five hundred populace of mixed folks that were reflected in its architecture. Houses in the hues of sand and angular edges and corners, small windows and at least two floor high.

Barracks made in the orcs crude style built from chiseled aurconom stone and metal – mostly for pipes and the window frames and rails on the balconies. And the pristine white temple dedicated to the gods and archfey of the continent built in the old imperial style – hexagonal with myriad colored windows that created a cold light within the single large chamber of the temple decorated with old oaken benches and a podium. Like most temples, while one could pray to any god in the temple, the Temple of Cheyara’s priesthood was most versed in the ways of the Gods of Justice.

The last building to stand out was the train station itself built during the Rebellion of the Central States a hundred years ago. It was part of the Applesor-Sraurpoint line that connected the northernmost town with the southernmost commissioned by the two Nairenthian Hosts of the Alliance. For this reason, many of the stations bore their style. Smooth walls painted in varying vibrant shades and a flat white roof with the flag of the two hosts planted at the corners.

This station itself also served as the headquarters of the Snow-Scaled Host – the largest military host of the Draunneth Alliance. The station sat at the north eastern corner of the small town with the offices and welcoming hall facing the streets, the platform, the detention area and the storage rooms closer to the towering wall that circles sharply around the town.

Within the confines of the long rectangle building, members of the Snow-Scaled Host – mostly Drengriars and Vordriars – were rushing left and right while preparing a single coach of their own magicraft train.

“How are things progressing?” Runanis, a high ranking snaelven vordriar asked her subordinate outside on the platform. The tall snaelf was draped tightly in the white, harsh leather coat and trouser combination of the Host’s vordriars combined with the onyx matte black button up shirt with chin high, standing triangular collars tied with a snow silvery neck tie and similarly hued knee-high combat boots. Sitting atop her snow silvery long hair bundled into a sleek ponytail was her similarly onyx black beret.

Unlike the Black Rose Order, their sisterly host – the Snow-Scaled Host did not produce their own uniforms. Instead they relied on the companies and guilds ran by the former in the past few centuries. Their coats, trousers and boots were crafted from the arcane material called Snaevnid leather.

It was similar in durability and flexibility to Dragonid Leather, what differed was the quality of appearance. Their outer uniforms were less glamorous, lustrous as they aimed for a matte, but still smooth appearance. The coat itself followed the military expectations and needs.

Four pockets, two at the breast beneath their badges and nametags, a utility belt that held their enchanted pouches filled with potions, magicraft grenades and gadgets. Shoulder straps that often housed the decorations earned by them, like Runinis’ whose straps had snow silvery scales ran diagonally at the center of each piece. A zipper line under a veil stripe – a piece of the coat that folds over creating a unified look for the torso. The sleeves with cuffed ends and a draconic scaled pattern from top to bottom. And lastly at the top, the open neck which were a sharp square shape.

Their shirts on the other hand were crafted from the similarly arcane natured material, Beornid an ulyester material. In the same vein as the coat, it was just as durable and flexible as aetherna satin while in looks, it was less lustrous while still being as comfortable to wear. Similarly to the coat, it had contrasting snow white satiny lining that was responsible for the gentle feeling as it touched the skin.

And it also had the military additions that consisted of the two breast pockets, shoulder epaulettes, cuffed sleeves, veil stripe over the button line and small decorations for the elevated, which in Runinis’s case were two dragon wing shaped snow silvery pins at the tips of her shirt collars.

“Almost done. Our guest behaves quite well, while most of the stations further up north reported already except for Station-172 and Station-124.” Liam, a seossurian Child of Spring vordriar reported as his gaunt face with a warm tone and a thick beard of mixed amber and peach hues focused on the small tablet he held firmly.

“I bet he expects his dear old Sister to come to the rescue.” Runanis muttered as the they watched their fellow comrades load up on supplies – mostly food and soap for the two showers inside the single wagon train.

“Also regretfully, I could not find a merchant in this town that sold the burrito you described to me.” Hearing those words, Runinis twitched mildly as her mood got a little worse.

Her taut white lips parted from their soft embrace and a sigh escaped her. “I see. Thank you still for taking your time. Let’s head inside as it seems loading is finished.” With a gloomy look on her eye-inviting snow white face, she entered the wagon with Liam behind feeling a bit worse at failing to meet her wishes.

**

4th of March, 456th of NDE. Melibriand Mountain, North Eoranian Heimrad.

The Melibriand Mountain sat at the eastern coast of the former Grauburgian Colony that now belonged to the Kingdom of Naireanth. One of the tallest peaks covered in snow all year with a great view to the center of the continent and even the Sinuous Mountain Range slicing the south into two were visible on clear days.

Along its highlands smaller settlements dotted the side of the mountain with most originally established as military outposts. But as the centuries passed, the families of the stationed troops settled down and built their own communities near the fortresses.

The then Naurdhon Line back then was a simple road built by the Arghyrians for troop and supply movements, but as the time passed the Grauburgians who controlled the region built the line with the aid of the Nairenthians. The northern parts of the line in the mountain were built along the valley roads surrounded either by chasms, or lush pine trees that bloom in a varied luminous hues. The southern parts on the other hand traverse through folk-made tunnels dug into the mountain that originally were used to mine the natural resources growing in the stalactites.

With the recent war in Central Eoran, the line finally got connected to the central railway line that ran across the natural land-bridge and connected to the south. For the most part it was used for supply transport for the United Republic’s forces, then for troop support at the last stages when the first of the rebelling cities fell.

“They finally got him?” Zogzugai, an imposing orc vordriar with a scary face asked in his soothing voice while the coffee poured into his large mug.

“Yep. And they’ll pass through here.” His much shorter dwarven comrade answered as he poured his Amroidian Whiskey into his mug with a tired expression.

“Took them long enough.” The clock of the dwarf started ringing and he jumped down from the chair while balancing the mug perfectly filled with only a little coffee and a lot of whiskey. “Well time for my shift.” Alcohol for dwarves was much more rejuvenating than a cup of coffee.

“Good counting.” Zogzugai said jokingly as the dwarf left, cheekily lifting his mug in a half defeated manner before he gently closed the door with telekinesis. Zogzugai sighed as he looked outside the window and noticed the snow storm still raging outside. He grabbed the sugar holder and put six full spoons worth into his mug before he poured the steaming coffee onto it followed by a milk when the two mixed together.

He left the small dining area and headed straight for the door. The Station-172 was referred as a Supply Spot where the trains – be it Host owned or commerce – stopped to refill on their dwindling supplies for the most part. It was a relatively sizeable platform akin to a balcony attached to the bridge that connected one tunnel to the other.

“Chilly.” He muttered as the mild wind tickled his thick skinned head adorned with a dark mane. Then a grunt followed as a slender feminine but well-honed arm wrapped around his collars while his legs were swept with one clean move. A muffled groan followed as a small hand tried to cover his wide mouth with large yellow tusk peeking out from under his lower lip.

“Fuck me.” The dulcet voice spoke with clear annoyance. Zogzugai body twitched once as it stopped its resistance and went completely limp after the snap that softly echoed through the balcony behind the singly building. His coffee mug shattered and the extremely sugary beverage forming shallowest lake on the white floor.

**

“PHnrgm.” Upon entering the minimalistic cell of Paul Gaona, Runanis and Liam were greeted by him. Though the spherical gag in his mouth prevented the formation of a proper one.

Paul Gaona, a former veteran of the rebelling states who escaped the claws of the victors as he and his twin sister escaped the siege with their squad the night before the city of El Rosaya. Since then they have been living as outlaws raiding smaller settlements in central and northern Eoran.

Paul himself was a handsome young man of naurdian descent blessed with an ever-slender built thanks to his constant training. Which currently was in the tight embracement of black leather straps that pushed and creased his refined suit – stylish and quite acceptable for his lifestyle of being in constant danger – and an armbinder that pushed his arms together in a not too comfortable way. Though on a technical level it was only one arm, the other an artificial that he only felt when mana flowed in his arcane veins. Thankfully – he thought – it was still attached to his left shoulder.

“He has been awfully compliant ma’am!” The dark haired stygian with curved goat horns, red skin and a grotesque skeletal visage called Draven reported.

“Maybe he finally accepted his fate.” Liam said mockingly as he looked at the handsome extinguisher of many of his former comrades and friends in the United Republics Forces. The handsome devil with short auburn hair – a color he shared with his twin sister – rose through the ranks of the El Rosaya Militia that took over the city after a successful coup, and then proceeded to execute the military captives and raised them into undeath.

Which was partly the reason he and his twin sister deserted their post. They got pretty fed up serving with not too slowly rotting comrades besides having paranoid thoughts of ending up the same. It was and will be always a well-known fact that necromancers don’t prefer living servants.

“Or he excepts his dear old sister to come to the rescue at the nick of time.” Runanis said as she slowly approached him. With each measured step, her long and sleek ponytail dangled left and then to right with perfect elven gravitas. “Just as we expect it.” She added with the smile of a sly fox. And as if taking a dramatic cue, the train started its journey towards the north.

**

Delfinirra sat in her office with a not so clear view to the tunnel as the storm intensified. Yet her mauve eyes focused on the magazine about the recent advancements on the magicraft weaponry of the Draunneth Alliance. And set with her boot clad feet on the counter, laid back in her rolling leather chair with her white faux leather coat on it, shirt loosely buttoned out and her cheeks buried into the collars. Which was partly the reason she ended up here.

Paragraphs upon paragraphs praised the wonderful designs of the new rapid mana guns, their efficiency and speed at which a trained soldier could fire mana bullets from them. With each turn of the page, she flicked her head and her medium length side-swept bob brimming with a platinum white hue that nicely contrasted her onyx blue smooth skin.

“Keep your hands on the table.” The serene moment broke the moment the door burst open when the bottom of Maria’s boot – the infamous twin sister of Paul – impacted it quite violently.

Her Tolc-Type wand pistol pressed against the back of Delfinirra’s head while she followed the instructions to the letter. “I would not do that unless you want to end up like your comrades.” Maria added as her right round eye whirred, noticing Delfinirra quite lackluster attempt at reaching for her wand pistol. A new designed one that she received upon getting to this station that livened up just now after months of nothing.

“Now, secure her.” Thanks to her sharp ears – both in hearing and physique – Delfinirra became aware of the two more heavier steps entering the small office. She sighed and accepted her current fate after hearing the stretch of enchanted rope and the tearing of sealing tape behind her while Maria ordered her down to the floor with a not so gentle push against her nape.