All of the foreign names such as San D'Oria, chocobo, etc. were taken and credited to Square-Enix's Final Fantasy XI.
The man in red needs no introduction.
A barrage of sounds rained into my ears; the clanging of metal against metal from the Knights and violent roars from the Orcish tribes. In all this chaos of the senses, footsteps were coming towards the door; soft footsteps, but steps of haste and hurry. The door of the chocobo house slammed open and then was quickly shut. The figure peered out the window cautiously as if running from someone, or something. I could not see the figure well enough to recognize, but I did recognize the shape; the shape of a man. I yelled for help, "EH! Agg.. hey!".
The man came running towards me, "Ylli! Its good to see you, but then again you don't look too good my friend."
The man, I recognized him, he was Machiavelo, a red wizard of San d'Oria, but a long time friend from sharing the same linkshell. His hair was a dark brown, dirty with dust from battles fought. He stood about six foot, more or less, he was a hume afterall. As a warlock he embraced the fantastic red tabard, boots, and feathered chapeau of a veteran Redmage. Machi always put on a happy face, even at these times, and I could see it in his brown eyes, he was excited to find me, a friend, in all the havoc and I was glad as well.
My eyes widened more as I was glad to see a comrade, but I was met with a sharp, throbbing pain in my head, "Ahh! Machi!" I complained, "Bastard orcs smacked me with something." My friend's face looked concerned as he saw where an arrow had struck my right forearm and how something had injured my cranium.
The magician was just one moment from an incantation, but as he began, a dark-smoking projectile that had taken the form of a sphere had burst through the window from the courtyard outside. This smoke bomb, as it may possibly be, was hurled into the room shattering the glass and with a disruptive thump, gravity had fulfilled its course and the smoke hit the floor intensely as it cracked the wooden floorboards below.
Machiavelo stopped his spell to turn his back to look at what had happened, "It's a gobblin bomb, get down!" the redmage shouted at me. And with a blink of an eye, the wizard had finished a quick spell. The bomb had gone off as the solid edges slowly came apart with bright fiery extravagance bursting from its deepest depths and as if in my mind's dream it exploded in a hazy cloud of fire. His focus on magick was quickening and in a strange mumbled tone he started another incantation. His skin had inherited a stone-like characteristic in which it absorbed the explosion's atomic waves preventing them from ever harming us.
I cannot recall what happened after that explosion. But when I woke up…
"Stupid Orc!" the familiar voice of the redmage cried as I regained consciousness. My leg felt as if it was going to burst into a thousand little pieces and my head rang with a sharp internal noise. The stables I lay were now just half of what it was. There was a big gaping hole in the house, the roof top was ripped apart and blown away; one side of the the corner that I lay was missing and the wall in front of me, holding the door into the stables, was now totally gone, but one little piece stood. I saw the red Machiavelo fight with sword in one hand, and shield on the other just outside of the chocobo house. Three orcs were hot in pursuit for the battered mage through the tunnels that lead to the stables and a small goblin ran past the orcs holding onto his seared rear end.
His cape was charred and ripped, his scarlet boots attained a smoky gray shade, and his tunic was stained with small blots of blood, red and blue of the beastmen's inner liquids. Behind him were two orcish corpses. His brilliant gold blade was slicing and dicing through the air frightening the fleeing goblin, but the orcs came into sight and still ran and yelped their Orcish Warcry. The duelist, with a series of moves ran towards the enemy, dodged swiftly to the right of the first orc, repelling his enemy's attack away with his shield, and now the unagile green beast was open for an attack on its left flank. In a quick flash, the blade had made its way deep into the side of the first orc and Machiavelo pushed through and out of the crackling spine and as the blade tore open the orc's back, it smoothly zipped through the next orc's chest with a sharp sound that gushed before the orc could even react to the incoming hume.
As I got up and made my way up to what was left of the front wall that used to hold the door, there was the last orc, it was bigger than the first two and had carried some heavy equipment. It bore what looked to be a fur insolation under its dark brown armor and its helm was broken at the chin revealing its terrible jaws. Its mouth was drooling under the rusted helmet and between the armor its open skin revealed scars of past battles. This particular monstrosity has raided the town before and now it returned to finish the elvaan city of Sandoria.
Machiavelo's body stiffened up and he was ready. He began to cast his last magick before the orc could get to his position. His skin, again turned to stone, but again with quick spell casting, his sword turned aglow with flames. The orc was in full speed now but with a step back the beastmen's opponent directed the elements towards him. In a flash, the earth had risen out of the ground accompanied by bricks that have crawled off the walls, the orc was tackled by stone. He was successful in making a mark; a thundering crack in the face, but this orc was persistent, shaking it off, it kept charging. Now Machiavelo pulled up his shield, readied his stance and held his sword over the top in defense. The orc's overpowering strength bashed away the Redmage's blade with its axe and then came down on the shield with a swing that was rebounded away. The mage was backed up but recuperated and now he was on the offense with a strike towards his enemy that had missed the spot. Still, the Redmage kept attacking with his flaming blade, swinging left and right, shoving closer and closer to the beast, as the orc backed off cautiously not knowing that this hume had so much intensity. The mage had finally cornered his foe and then, Machiavelo bashed the clumsy orc's axe out of the situation with his shield. The hume went in for a stab, but the orc's brute strength was too over powering for the mage and using its body as a weapon, the great beast tackled the mage. The steaming blade entered the orc's chest, stabbing and eviscerating the organs within; thick blue from the orc slowly drained out. The orc made an attempt to rid of this pesky human, it rammed himself, with the Redmage, into a wooden fence, breaking the protective layer of skin and the top of a water well's wooden roof. The orc, on top of the magician and with a sword resting in its left shoulder, blood bleeding out of the wound; the orc gives out a war cry of victory. "GAHH!! RAHAarg.. pathetic hoomon," the Orc said disgustingly as the saliva dripped down onto the dazed Redmage.
It rose its hulking arms over the Redmage ready to pummel. This was my opportunity to help my friend, and with the smallest amount of energy I had, I frantically concentrated a blast of chi, and shot it at the orc. The blast went true, and hit, but it didn't even leave a mark. The orc turned quickly to face me, and growled menacingly. It got off my struggling friend and ran up the ramp towards me, with a determined look on its face to rip me from my united limbs. I shook and froze, and right as the orc was two feet away the winds picked up around the orc, and sliced the big veteran beast all over, the blade in its shoulder was pushed by this "aero" and started to vibrate in its place. The monster was enraged and with an effortless motion I found myself airborne headed out of the stables and into the courtyard, six, seven feet from where I originally was. It felt as if I should of just left this life altogether, it was too painful, but the orc continued to fight and I must help my friend no matter what it took. I heard the voice of Machiavelo as I turned my head to see him chanting another incantation. The orc gave out a loud cry, it turned its back on me and was now facing the beaten mage. The orc looked urgent and ran towards the hume, jumped down the steps to crush its opponent, but the Redmage with a last second push for dear life, he accessed all he could from his body and with his quick moves, managed to sweep under the arms of his attacker while at the same time reached his blade from the beast's chest. With another quick motion, the man in red spun 180 degrees, now facing the Orc's backside, finally thrust his blade into the back of the orcish head. Great blue liquids burst out of the orc's face as the gold edges ripped through the brain, and re-emerged from the orc's nose.
The magician turned to me and I saw his shocked face in frustration looking past where my body had lay. He was struck, my friend was hit with an arrow in the lower abdomen as he was gripping the shaft in pain. I turned my head towards the tunnel and emerged from the darkness was an orc equipped with bow and arrow storming in front of me. Its mission: to avenge its defaced captain. It did not notice me and so it stood over me pulling back its bow and readying its final blow on my crimson friend. The creaking bow drew back, the orc roared in early triump, I yelled in horror as I was helpless for my friend, incapable and immobile. I turned to Machiavelo, his eyes wide looking at what may be his final resting place. The arrow shot. The bow string was released with a loud "thwack" which was followed by horrifying grunt and roar from which came from the orc above me. Looking up at the orc, I made a marvelous and miraculous discovery, the bow was not yet released, it was still in its cold hands but an arrow was plunged deep into the left side of its brain poking out of the right side with drizzling goo trailing down its cheek and dripping onto me. It fell backwards and collapsed on the ground.
I turned my attention to Machiavelo, his head turned towards the tunnel leading east and my head followed in that direction as well. Stanced with great bow directed towards where the orc had originally posted, the tall elvaan, half covered in dark tunnel shade took a step forward. His hair was a grayish white in which had covered his inner ears, hovered slightly above his sharp eyes and was held under his bone crafted helm. He was dressed in many colors such as dark green that looked like it would blend into a forest scenery and on his fingers a pair of crimson gauntlets. His body wear was lined with a dark and dirty red orange over a vast dark green which hung under a pair of heavy shoulder plates that were engraved with many spectacular-holy designs.
This savior of the moment was a well seasoned soldier and he did not have to speak for us to notice; we knew exactly who he was, the way he had equipped himself with two quivers of arrows, small pouches of bolts and bullets hung about his waist accompanying his large Bastokan crafted firearm and signature made crossbow. Yes, we knew who he was, he carried a sea-blue pearl around his belt, the same shade of blue Machi and I carried. We knew him, we knew this ranger.