Canonfire! - The Soaring Three

Sit back and enjoy a rousing tale of the Soaring Three, a band of adventures in the Keoish town of Cryllor.

Author: Michael Sandar

The Soaring Three
By: Michael Sandar (Canonfire! username: MichaelSandar)
Used with permission. Reposting or redistributing this document without the express permission of the author is prohibited, as explained in Canonfire's Copyright Statement.

The countryside of Keoland spun in his vision as he slashed the orc, then, dropping his daggers raised his hands, thumbs touching and fingers outstreched yelling, "Chicate!" Flame poured in an arc from his hands, scorching the piglike face of the orc and sending him to the ground. One of the Knights kicked his warhorse in a circle and heaved his short sword in a whirling course, past Tearsyn's face and into the chest of another orc. The three men walked down the streets of Crylor, unconcerned by the crowds surrounding them. They made a strange pairing, human, elf and half-elf. The human, a blue eyed man in his twenties wore a longsword at his side, and carried a shield bearing a fist tightly clenching a lightning bolt. In this city, Brother Matryn Tal'Oni gladly touted his position as a cleric of Heironeous. The elf wore a suit of green and brown dyed leather armor, and had black hair falling to his shoulders. A longbow made of polished darkwood was strapped across his back. Falonnicent Rakujemmi being his full name, amongst his friends he was known as Falon Rakuj. The third member of this strange procession was a half-elf named Tearsyn Valour. To look at him, you would think he was a man who couldn't make up his mind. He moved like he had been trained for martial warfare, and always seemed to be reaching for a sword that wasn't there. He carried the weapons of a rogue and the spellbooks of a mage, earning him a good deal of stares in the city.
"It's not right," Matryn stated harshly. The conversation had been going this route for some time now. "Heironeous will not approve of stealing, even from someone with a shady past, Tearsyn." Teasyn let out a disgruntled huff, and considered again the value of a friend. He shook his head and finally let the argument drop. He had asked Falon to accompany him on a small heist outside of guild law and somehow the cleric had learned of it. Shrouded in his thoughts, it took a moment for Tearsyn to recognize the alarm bells ringing from the Sanctum of Heironeous. "Bolts," Matryn swore looking around as the crowd began to turn into a small tide headed for the west gate. The three glanced at each other, then, drawing their weapons, followed in earnest, not needing Falon's rangering skills to track the disturbance. The trio quickly reached the gate and, finding it full of onlookers in front of a lowered portcullis, climbed the stairs leading to the stone and wooden battlements. Looking down they could see a moderately sized contingent of orcs and ogres facing off with a small patrol of Knights of the Watch. The Knights were badly outmatched by the ogres and their large studded clubs, and the orcs were using shortbows to keep them on their toes. Tearsyn glanced at Matryn and Falon, both looking uncertain as to what to do, and threw his hands out in front of him. "Satari neueve hjori COSHTA!" he prompted in the language of magic, his stance awkward and his hands gesticualting in sharp, precise, movements. Looking up, he saw the fruits of his casting labors as a gold scaled dragon rose from behind Crylor's keep. He watched as his illusion soared high overhead, then paused and began to sweep down towards the ogres. "Both of you, to me," he called. "Now!" Matryn and Falon responded in kind, rushing to Tearsyn's side. "Hold on to me, tightly now," he gulped for breath then jumped once more into the language of magic. "Jaklosa lythialia!" With that, he jumped, and a blue field rushed around his feet, carrying the three on the winds to a soft landing near the battle just as the gold dragon was pouncing down on the ogres, sending them running in fright. Falon and Matryn drew their weapons, putting them to almost frighteningly proficent use. "Glory to the hand of Justice," rose the clerics wracry. The jeweled daggers flashed as Tearsyn spun, his lithe, unarmored body moving smoothly as he slipped past an orc, it's yellowed teeth bared in a grimace of rage. The countryside of Keoland spun in his vision as he slashed the orc, then, dropping his daggers raised his hands, thumbs touching and fingers outstreched yelling, "Chicate!" Flame poured in an arc from his hands, scorching the piglike face of the orc and sending him to the ground. One of the Knights kicked his warhorse in a circle and heaved his short sword in a whirling course, past Tearsyn's face and into the chest of another orc. With a look behind him, the fighter/mage threw a quick glance to the knight and nodded his thanks. The rest of the battle was short and bloody as the two ogres not scared off by the illusory dragon were felled by the three living Knights, Tearsyn and Matryn. Falon put his bow to good use, finishing off the remaining orc archers in six precise shots, one apiece. A quick survey of the battlefield showed seven dead Knights, four dead ogres, and nineteen orc bodies. The six turned towards Crylor's gates, making hasty introductions, but paused as the crowd erupted in cheer, while opening the portcullis. Knight Trabin raised an eyebrow at the calls and cheers and glanced at the three companions with a smirk. "It seems not only are you our saviors, but your stunts have earned you a name." Tearsyn hardly had to prick his ears to hear what the crowd was chanting. He shook his head ruefully and motioned for his freinds to follow. "This will never do in the theiving business, now everyone knows me," he remarked. Falon grinned, eyes sparkling. "That's alright, the cleric didn't want to do it anyway." Matryn grunted as they passed into the crowd "Between the two of you, I'll be lucky to ever do anything respectable again." Tearsyn and Falon laughed as the crowds parted, each and every one still chanting, "Hail the Soaring Three!"