Subchapter 1: Castle of Clouds
People are stupid.
They'll believe in anything they fear is the truth: hypocrisy, death, pain, murder, agony, rape, genocide, war, betrayal, and (May I be struck by lightning) God.
A Naryn's only fear is to die of old age. Even when they believe that death should only be by battle.
Daergar's only fear was that he would be killed in cold blood, death in his sleep, or crippled to the point of no return; a sign of weakness on his or opponents side.
Floating in seeming eternity, he thought, and the only way to sleep was to think hard enough and pass out.
What he figured out though, was his reason for existing in eternity: Ulenaak-Pe-Kir (You-len-ahk Pay Keer), or Dragon man, the Heavenly One (or One of Heavens your choice ) Champion, Great Brave.
Axel.
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Suspended in an unreality, Daergar scoffed, with naught even a woman for warmth, nor food for a warrior's appetite.
He couldn't really complain though. Eternity had a perfect temperature, and he hadn't hungered for food in what seemed a fortnight. He could feel his body, touch his weapons, and yell with a throat and mouth with no need for breath. Both satisfying and boring. (You can only yell for so long right?) He even tried to stab himself in the gut with his sheri knife, a twelve-inch ceremonial blade of iron. But upon contact, it only slid off of his skin. Sort of like using a very sharp knife trying to stab a sheet of tin foil and it won't punch through.
In time, or perpetuity of nothing, he could hear a ring. It steadily grew in volume, as if it was getting closer.
The blackness seemed to recede as the ring drew nearer, in its place puffy white clouds appeared. They shifted in and around themselves until they rose higher and grew in length and height. Suddenly they formed the shape of a castle. But their seemed to be no guards, the battlements empty. The stained glass windows faded, the foundation crumbling. Two towers were collapsed, being unable to support themselves. All of the stone seemed to be scorched, and in some places cracked and broken in as if a great hand punched through them. But through it all the complete destruction there seemed to be a spark of life, and that spark is the only thing keeping the castle shaped.
Finally, I've died and gone to death's palace, Daergar thought.
Gravity pulled him down and he fell heavily on a cracked cobblestone road. Stunned for a moment he stood up and walked toward the broken castle.
"Who or what has done this?" He asked to nothing in particular.
Sidestepping the huge blocks torn from the gates entrance he stepped inside the courtyard.
"Hail, to the castle!" He yelled.
He sensed the spark in the air grow suddenly tense as Daergar made his presence known. It turned to malevolence and the ground seemed to stir slightly. Drawing his two handed saber out of caution, he called out again, "Who goes there?"
IT IS I WHO SHOULD ASK. WHO ARE YOU WHO WOULDST DISTURB ME?
"I am Daergar Harj of the Bari clan of the Naryn tribe!" His voice cracked slightly.
HMPH! SUCH A NAME, CLAN AND TRIBE ARE MEANINGLESS TO ME. BUT HOW DID YOU COME TO BE HERE?
Looking around to locate the voice, Daergar answered, "I don't know. I was performing a ceremony of lightning and I found myself awoken in blackness. Then this stronghold appeared and I have come to investigate."
The voice paused to consider this answer, ITS NOT THE WHOLE TRUTH, IS IT?
Fearing the consequences, "No."
THEN I WANT YOU TO TELL ME THE TRUTH IN ITS ENTIRETY.
Puffing his chest Daergar exclaimed, "Then show yourself so would know who I speak to."
Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement around the former stable area in a small cottage where the late stable master kept his quarters. He charged forward and was about to grab the latch of the door when he suddenly found himself flung backward onto the street, losing the grip on his sword it fell away from him. Recovering quickly he drew his sheri knife to defend himself.
A man stood in the doorway, swathed in a gray cloak with a deep hood to hide his features and leaning on an oaken staff to carry his weight, stepped out of the hut and closed the door. The man regarded Daergar and stepped forward. Daergar backed up, knowing the possibility that this man may be a mage of some sort.
The man bent down and pulled up Daergar's sword with one hand, whereas it should have been heavy enough to use both. Twisting it around in the air with inspection, he snorted and sent it flying at Daergar's feet where it sunk in the ground, quivering.
"Primitive, but it will do." The figure said.
"How? Explain yourself!" Daergar shouted vehemently.
The figure beckoned Daergar and had him follow into the ruined castle. The fortress seemed to be on the verge of collapsing, but Daergar felt hesitant to enter. Picking up his saber he followed the man in gray slowly, watchfully. Alert for any treachery.
Through the archway they passed, and the feeling of death, sorrow, and oppressiveness seemed to fade just as the walls seemed to restack themselves; seemed to make the castle whole once more. They passed through corridors that reformed around them, and Daergar thought he saw the faded glimmer that had once been the peak of former glory etched in the stone surrounding him.
Being a Warrior whose duty it was to stay on open grassland and dense tree forests, he felt very comfortable within the castle walls. This was what he politically fought for
when he was with his people, until Axel thwarted him before the tribe came to a civil war.
"You are a fool," he told Axel, "all warriors must fight and die. That is law. That is life."
"However true your words seem to reverberate throughout your thick skull, Daergar," Axel replied coolly, "you should know that your people are meant to prosper on the true land. Not confined within stone walls that will soon crumble to the ground, and you the traitor of your own community."
Daergar lunged at Axel to begin a dishonorable fight.
But through that fight, Axel won Daergar's honor, and word to not create a fortress that would destroy the tribe. So this was Axel's Greater Good, fighting to restore peace, honor, and above all, balance. Or else the world goes to hell.
Far too much good, yields: religious zeal, thoughts of higher life, (the life of a god, for example) and the people eventually destroy themselves.
Far too much evil, yields: betrayal, death, slavery, and it all boils down to the fact that people will fight and kill each other for power that destroys (themselves).
Sad, but true.
People are stupid.