The Guardian of Zek

Based on the computer game Everquest 2

By Jason Olin

This story represents a past and a world that exists within the heart and soul of anyone who holds fast to their imagination. It is a story of the horrors of war and the determination of the brave souls who engage in it. It is not a tale of a politics, nor of a damsel in distress. Absent is the shining, gallant knight who rides into battle and saves the day. Rather, this simple story focuses on a different approach, telling the tale of a tactically-minded dark elf as complex as he is formidable. In truth, it is this type of anti-hero who slays the gallant knight so often found in most fairy tales. Though his path is not of the noble light, his deeds are no less heroic. The orcs are his brothers, the citizens of the fairy tale kingdom his enemies. His story will now be known, his exploits and trials to be made known to any brave enough to read on. Every page read will forever reinforce the fact that wherever his armored boots stepped, conflict inevitably follows.

Read on now, brave soul, and hear the battle cry of Varixx Tarnok, dark elf guardian and devotee of Rallos Zek.

Chapter 1: A Grand Little War

Zek Island.

Dusk had finally descended on the island signaling the death of another day. The waning light bathed the barren landscape in reddish light not unlike the light of a candle as it shines through stained glass windows in a decadent temple of worship. The dazzling effect of the setting sun was the only saving grace the ravaged island had left to call it's own amongst the desolate landscape that earned the land its second name: The Orcish Wastes. The war-ravaged land begrudgingly allowed a touch of grotesque beauty to come along with the waning light as the cloak of night prepared to spread like a dark sheet upon the ravaged land.

Animals who dared to travel the land during the daylight hours finally began to settle down for the ascending night. Birds called out longingly to the disappearing ball of light as it sank below the horizon. Their lonely cries echoed across the planes and rugged hills that stood now as blood-stained monuments to war. They sang farewell to the welcomed light and they sang of the terror that was yet to come.

With the arrival of night also came the hunt. Out the predators came, their hungry eyes adjusting as dusk firmly settled out across the whole of the island. The war had been good to these nocturnal stalkers. There was no end to the number of corpses lying on the ground to feast upon, the rotting carcasses awaiting a most gruesome consumption.

But the coming darkness did not mean everything settled down. The war waging across Zek knew no sense of time constraint. The soldiers of Qeynos and the orcs of Zek had quickly learned this. Even at that moment, beings that would have stopped to admire the fact that nature could bring a touch of beauty even to this hellhole of an island were busy slaughtering each other with uncivil ferocity. To be more precise, in this instance, one side was slaughtering the other. Orcs whom were most eager to start a fire and cook their meager evening meal were working with haste to kill or drive off the last remnants of a Qeynosian regiment that had been harassing the extreme left flank of the widely positioned Rallosian army all day long.

A handful of seasoned knight officers commanded the remaining hundred or so former Qeynosian peasants and farmers turned foot soldiers. Through months of preparation and almost two years of combat under their belt had molded these simple people into a force far more effective than the children of Rallos Zek had prepared for. While a stalemate had gone on for quite a few hours, the arrival of several more orc platoons finally gave the savage horde the numerical advantage. As the last vesteges of daylight waned like the life of an old man, attrition came into play and the human, dwarven, and elven citizens soldiers of Qeynos began to fall in droves.

It wasn't long into the renewed attack that the order to retreat was given. Upon command, a human adjutant raised a horn to his lips and sounded off. The distressed sound echoed off the canyon walls like a mournful beast, signaling that the battle was lost. Disheartened and exhausted, the remaining foot soldiers turned and began to flee back towards their distant main line, abandoning any sense of discipline as they sought to escape death.

One knight officer and several of his most trusted soldiers held the line, fighting a rear-guard action in order to give their comrades time to escape to safety. Like a stone wall, these few brave men held back ferocious attacks that left more than a few of their green enemies speechless. These soldiers, who were not even part of an elite unit, fought unflinchingly against swords, spears, and raw animalistic ferocity. With their deaths, the death of a few, many more would live to serve another day.

The brave knight lieutenant commanding the rear-guard gazed at the sea of spears and snapping teeth as orcs rushed upon him and his determined men. Weary from so many battles, he dug deep and gripped his courage, moving forward and felling several orcs with calculated swings of his long sword. His skill awarded him attention and suddenly the enemy came at him in pairs, all eager for a worthy kill that would boost their own fame. Some paid for their eagerness and fell dead on the spot while those who remained learned quickly that even a single Qeynosian knight was worth his weight in gold.

A young orc came at him blindly and he struck the creature's shoulder with his blade that bore the seal of Antonia Bayle, the queen of Qeynos, The blow struck true, cutting deep into the flesh and muscle as the impact tossed the youth to the ground. The orc looked up at him, frightened now instead of determined. His skin turned a sickly shade of white as he gripped his grievous wound. His hue was a sharp contrast to the blood that poured from the terrible gash and trickled down his arm to collect like a grotesque pool in the palm of his hand.

The knight shook his head. This one is so young. Why throw away his life recklessly in a battle such as this? It has next to no significance. There is no valor in any of this cold-blooded barbarism.

Sighing, he raised his sword to deliver the final blow when a hard strike from above and behind pitched him forward onto one knee. Turning his head he saw a figure in armor hovering over him, looking down silently. The face was hidden behind a mask, but his eyes conveyed a deep disgust that was clear as an Antonica summer day.

The knight rolled away and started to climb to his feet. The questions in his mind began to mount. Where the hell had this new attacker come from? How had he struck from behind so quickly?

The new arrival motioned to the young orc and then to two other orcs nearby. "To the rear with this one!" he shouted in the harsh orcish tongue. "Get him to a healer as fast as you can. He is young still and it is not yet his time to fall."

The two nearby orcs who'd heard the command detached themselves from combat and carefully hoisted the youth up, who was still looking up at his savior with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. The warrior in black moved to shield them as they ascended the small hill to their rear.

The Qeynosian officer was back on his feet and he and this strange warrior danced with their blades. The contest lasted but a moment. Parrying a few strikes, the knight attempted an overhead strike. The attack failed and the knight found that he was quite literally disarmed as his left arm from the elbow down fell to the rocky ground amidst a pool of blood. He felt his balance give way again and a terrible scream accompanied the horrible injury. His helm clanked against the ground and he tasted sand and dust. A harsh weight pressed down on his back from above.

Looking at the stump where his arm once was, the knight roused his courage, trying to get a look at the unknown attacker. "Is that all you have? You've failed today, orcish agent. Most of my unit got away to fight again next time. These pious warriors will survive to defeat you and your warmongering allies again and again and again! The end of the orcish empire on this island is quickly approaching!"

Violet eyes staring intensely from blackness created by the face-concealing helm, choking off any further words the struggling knight might utter. He moved his leg and planted his boot on the back of the knight's helm, pushing it further into the dirt. The lieutenant struggled, looking around for assistance. His heart sank as he watched the last of his brave warriors die at the hands of the orcs that surrounded him.

Alone and without hope, only one thought burned in his mind. There would be no rescue for the rescuer.

The idea of being isolated from friends and surrounded by enemies terrified him to his very core. Is this how my life is to end? Am I really to cease to be at the hands of such crude and barbaric creatures?

The imposing figure chuckled darkly, speaking in the common tongue most races of Norrath knew well. "Pious? Both Rallosians and Qeynosians wade amidst the slaughter of battle. Warriors on both sides die savagely at the hands of those who seek to protect their own lives. Only a citizen of Qeynos would try to romanticize this kind of a situation."

He gestured around him. "Every single soul on the battlefield is drenched in carnage and gore. Yet somehow, you fools still believe that you wage war on notions of justice and honor. There is no justice on the battlefield! With every orc you kill in the name of 'The Light' or 'Justice' do you think about the bastard children left behind, or the widows and broken families you create? Warriors like you help create the next generation of determined orc warriors from those vengeful, fatherless children of and let me assure you, we are most grateful for that. Until you grasp what war really is, you fools from that presumptuous human city will never defeat us here in this most sacred of lands."

Increased pressure on the side of the helm caused the metal to creak and groan. The knight laughed despite the pain. "You waste your breath. My convictions are sound and your comments fall on deaf ears. Perhaps you are trying to intimidate me?"

"No," his opponent's deep voice replied. "Just break you."

With a bit more applied pressure the protective metal helm gave way with a groan of tearing metal. The knight's skull quickly followed suit. He barely had time to grunt before his brain was ground into paste, mixing with the dust and rocks. A second later the brave human was just another digit in the growing number of casualties in the war.

"Most satisfying." Flicking blood and brain matter off his boot, Varixx Tarnok turned from the broken husk to find his soldiers standing at strict attention in front of him, their weapons coated with the blood. Varixx raised his own sword and the orcs around him howled with almost maniacal glee.

He switched to speaking orcish again, a heavily accented version of the harsh language. "You made our god Rallos Zek proud this day, my warriors! Fall back to the heights to the south and make camp. Cook your dinners and eat well! You all deserved as much for this day's work."

An orc youth brought Varixx his miniature war rhino and he mounted the beast, turning in the saddle to address one of his aides. "I want all of my unit commanders at my tent in two hours for an after combat briefing. I will have new orders for them at that time."

With that, he flicked the reins and made for his camp, watching the landscape around him illuminate like hellfire as the soldiers of his legion began constructing their nighttime campfires behind the watchful gaze of the picket guards.

It had all started almost two years ago. A Qeynosian merchant ship had been carrying vital supplies to the halflings who had courageously remained on the EnchantedLandsIsland to fight for the reclamation of what was theirs against the insidious creatures of the void. The crew had sailed too close to Zek and as a result, had met disaster at the hand of orc naval ships off the coast. Like a powder keg, the situation exploded into violence. Another cargo ship succumbed to the orcs the month after and its helpless crew had been mercilessly cast into the turbulent, shark infested sea.

Qeynos had been quick to act. Receiving orders from Queen Antonia Bayle, elements of the royal navy had moved in and quickly obliterated the much smaller orc navy. With that task complete and the bloodthirsty orc sailors sent to the bottom of the sea as just punishment, the entire strength of the navy was augmented with additional ships from Qeynos harbor. Under the orders of High Admiral Jeeris, the vast navy encircled the island as troop transports carrying the forces of the queen's army landed at the Warship Docks and offloaded legions of soldiers determined to wipe out the Rallosian threat once and for all.

During the early days of the war, the Qeynosian army made of up of the combined might of humans, cat-like kerra, gnomes, halfling, sturdy barbarians, wood elves, half elves, high elves, dwarves, and the noble amphibian frogloks won decisive battles against the orcish hordes, driving the creatures into the hills of their own island. It was during this time that Rallos Zek worshipping devotees, called Rallosians answered the call to war, determined to help the orcs, one of several creations personally created by Zek himself. One of these religious fantatics, Varixx Tarnok had heard about the war as news of the budding conflict spread across the vast expanse of Norrath. Without question he had answered the unspoken call for duty, leaving his profitable mercenary profession and his daughter back home within the dark elf capitol city of Neriak.

Zek devotees converged on ZekIsland in mass to prove their loyalty to the God of War no matter the cost. Breaking through gaps in the Qeynosian blockade in fast little transport ships cost many a warrior his or her life as the queen's ships blasted or burned them out of the water.

The largest group of blockade-surviving warriors landed and converged on the northeastern edge of the island, not more than fifteen miles from Deathfyst Citadel. Not surprisingly, Varixx found that many of the warriors present were ogres, another race created by Rallos, though there were a fair number of orcs from different tribes on other continents that had come to aide their more organized brothers. Varixx had been the only dark elf present, but none of the other warriors had known that since he'd been, as ever, concealed in his full suit of armor.

While the situation became ever bleaker due to the swiftness in which the odds of battle shifted against the orcs, there were opportunities still to reverse the tide.

Varixx had been absolutely ecstatic the first day he'd taken to the field of battle. His long slumber underground before and after The Shattering, a series of cataclysmic earthquakes that had torn the once large continents into many smaller islands, both of these events had robbed him of the chance to participate in both the Second Rallosian War and the War of the Fae. At last his chance for glory and combat had arrived.

Having taken an extended pilgrimage to Zek a few years prior to the war, Varixx had an upper hand with the ranking orc leaders when he and the survivors had arrived at the castle to enlist their services. Back in those days, before the war, he'd proven his worth over a period of three agonizing months and gained the trust and respect of the orcs with nothing short of determination, blood, and sweat. He'd once even dined with Emperor Fyst along with several other honored guests. In addition, Varixx had made friends with an up-and-coming legion officer named Zorg and the two quickly forged a relationship akin to brothers.

Meeting with Zorg after breaking through the Qeynos blockade, Varixx found that his old friend was now the supreme commander of the Army of Zek Island, surpassed in authority only by Emperor Fyst and his sons. Varixx had been warmly received and quickly offered a military command of his own which he'd eagerly accepted. For the Teir'dal Guardian, it felt like a defining moment of his existence, as if he'd been born solely for the purpose of fighting this war on hallowed ground. Starting out as a regimental commander, he'd quickly worked his ways up the ranks to general and commanded first a brigade, then a division, a corps, and finally, an entire legion. Time and time again he joined in battle alongside comrades and superiors alike and never shied away from danger.

Once, during the early days of the war, he'd been asked how he fought so easily without fear. Shrugging his shoulders, Varixx had simply said "If I am to fall, let it happen at least on sacred soil."

During the first year of the war, the orc army had reorganized and rearmed with all the power the scant resources of the island could provide. This did little to change the situation around, at least at first. Gaining control of first a quarter and then virtually half of the island, the Qeynosian army seemed almost invincible. With an army of well trained soldiers complimented by skilled archers, ballista crewmembers, and heavy mounted cavalry, they continued to break through any line of defense the orcs constructed to stop the offensive.

For several long months the Qeynosians advanced further and further into the island with relative ease, linking up with the Green Hoods. Servants of Tunare, the Green Hoods were the last defenders of Zek's vanishing forests and they protected the remaining trees from the consumption of the ravenous orc war machine. Overjoyed with the prospect of retaking the island that had once been part of an expansive forest, the Green Hoods had quickly rallied to the Qeynosian cause.

The Blood Ore valley had been taken next and the orcs were forced to abandon their lumber mill and expansive mine in that area. The soldiers of the queen had wasted little time in using these sites to add to their growing demands for war materials. It had been an absolutely devistating loss for the orcs, economically more than militarily.

On the Qeynosians pressed with their vast army. The druid rings and SpiritLake fell after one great push. The orcs fell back to the larger mountains and entire divisions took shelter in large caves, determined to hold back the ever increasing tide of enemy soldiers. It was this terrain more than anything else that allowed the orcs to finally start holding their own. As the ground grew more mountainous with rocky peaks jutting into the sky, the use of cavalry and artillery of the Qeynos army was largely negated. In this domain the orcs were the masters and more soldiers of Qeynos began to fall from orc archers and soldiers positioned atop the heights, or from ambushes that struck without warning and successfully escaped back into hiding. This gave pause to the invaders and allowed the orcs time to train a far greater amount of troops in new tactical ways to handle the Qeynosian threat and their advanced weaponry.

This lead to a series of victories that lead to a silver lining to shine through in the cloud that was over a year of steady defeats. Just after Frostfell at the onset of the second year of the war, a corps worth of Qeynosian foot soldiers and archers concentrated on a single point in the orcs' mountain defense line just beyond the Green Hood camp and broke through. Threatening to reach Deathfist Citadel and effectively cutting the available orc army in half, the Rallosians rallied any warriors they could atop Deathfist Lookout, a large mountain standing virtually alone across a wide open field. Attempts by the human-led forces to bypass the mountain had resulted in a costly disaster as orcs fired arrows and threw down boulders on the forces below. A siege of the mountain lasted for over two weeks, but orc reinforcements, taken from the front line at the southern end of the island, broke the siege, freeing their starving brothers and forcing the enemy back across the mountains.

It was a vital victory for the orcs. But as with all things, there was a price to pay. The weakened defensive lines in the southern half of the island fell under a three prong attack in the place that had one been known as the MythicalForest. With losses piling up, the orcs felt compelled to retreat, thus surrendering just over half of the island to Qeynosian control and placing the Sullon orc tribe's mine and lumber mill in danger of enemy occupation.

Encouraged by this important victory, the queen's army reinforced their lines all across the island, preparing for further advances. The great road beyond the MythicalForest led all the way to the citadel and to the end of the war. "To the citadel and victoryl!" became the slogan of the army and bets were placed between the different corps commanders as to whose force would lead the capture and execution of the orc emperor.

Adaptation proved to be absolutely necessary as the second year progressed. It was not a difficult concept for the races born of the god of war. The orcs were ever zealous and eager to fight and rebuilt their ranks. To do this, they drew on just about all the orc settlements on the island. Even Deathfyst Citadel relinquished many of its defenders to add to the army's strength. Well behind the lines in the few areas still safe from enemy incursion, vast training camps pumped out green yet eager warriors by the hundreds.

Reinforced, the green horde descended from the heights again like a tide of vengeance and clashed with the Queen's Army. They were now equal armies on the battlefield. Gone were the days of one-sided victories and quick routs. Inexperienced soldiers on both sides fell by the wagon load, and those who survived quickly became efficient veterans. As the battles grew more intense and violent, it was hard to find a soldier on either side that hadn't seen at least one family member or close friend meet their demise on the horrid island. The Qeynosians viewed it simply as a tragic event, a horrible side effect of the war. The orcs accepted this same fact with joy that the family member had died in battle. While there was certainly sadness at the loss of a family member, the thought that the deceased would join Rallos in the plane of war brought peace, especially when the warrior had died in a battle that had resulted in a victory.

The second year of the war dragged on into the eleventh month. As the mountains of corpses piled up on both sides it was perfectly clear that victory wouldn't come easily for either side. Essentially deadlocked, the soldiers of both sides settled in to fight the war until it's as of yet unforeseeable conclusion, one side clinging to its values of truth and justice and the other a lust for battle and total domination of the invading army.