The Cala Chronicles

stayontarget

I thought I would post something different I found besides the same old topics we see all the time. 

Fan made storytelling written by Caelixian @TeraFans (very good creative writing for a 1st timer)

The following tale is my attempt at bringing the Archer class to life through narrative. Now, I know this might sound cheesy, but my aim is to tell the story in weekly installments and follow her adventures from the Island of Dawn through to the continent of Shara, (which we know nothing about, so I'll be making up a LOT) and beyond. As reference, I'll only be using previously published material, so as not to get into any trouble with NDA. If I don't know something, I'll make it up; in other words, this is not meant to be a factual guide to Arborea or the Archer class, but, with any luck, will help you get a sense of the Archer class, and prove to be entertaining.

-Caelixian

link chap.1: http://www.terafans.com/topic/4821-archer-column-the-cala-chronicles/

link chap.2: http://www.terafans.com/topic/4915-archer-column-chapter-2/

Link chap.3: http://www.terafans.com/topic/4994-archer-column-chapter-3/

Cael's TeraCast pod link: http://caelixian.podbean.com/feed/

 

The Cala Chronicles: An Archer's Journey Through Arborea

Chapter 1: Leave



The wind was gusting in from the south-west, tainted with the warm organic musk of the Tuwangi Mire. A ringlet of hair the colour of blooming heather tumbled across one eye as she bent the arch of her heavy ironwood bow. Her target, a fern standing taller than all the rest in the vicinity, merely swaying in the breeze, did little in the way of resistance. She aimed for the base of the thing, near to the ground where the stem was thickest. Summoning the energy within her, the young Castanic felt the shaft of energy materialize on her string, never releasing her target from the intensity of her stare. The almost musical 'twang' of her bowstring filled the air, stilling, if only for a few seconds, the chirping of nearby birds, and cutting short the shrill chattering of a squirrel. The shaft of shimmering energy blazed through the air, arching slightly, and compensating well for the slight gust in the air. The fern, around two hundred yards away to Cala's estimation, exploded with the impact, sending green leafy fragments in all directions, their gentle flutter back to earth belying the violence which had just transpired. The pieces of the fern came to rest among the shattered detritus of tree branches, mossy stumps, and stone fragments which other arrows had liberated from their former hosts. Glancing up at the sun while tucking her renegade roseate ringlet behind a horn, the young Castanic decided it was about time to head back to base.

With a slight grin of satisfaction, Cala slung her bow over her shoulder, and turned from her obliterated targets to head back to the bivouac. She enjoyed the solitude of what she had recently begun to think of as ‘her’ gully, and already she was beginning to see signs of wear on the grassy path back to the town-proper. Twice a day, between her shifts, she had ventured down the gulch to practice her archery. The 4th Company of the Valkion Defence Brigade had only been billeted in Lumbertown for a week now, but already the work they had been sent to assist with had been completed.



A tempest from the West had blown in off the sea only days before they had been mustered, knocking down trees, causing lumber piles to come careening down into the village, and toppling several of the ancient mills. Truly, no storm like it had hit the coastal areas in living memory. The 4th VDB company had been called upon by Vanarch Ismal of Lumbertown to assist in the clean-up. It was routine work; any time there was a natural disaster, the VDB would offer its assistance in the reconstruction, the clean-up, or the restoration. Only a few months before, several companies of the VDB had been called to the Paraanon Ravine to act as a bucket brigade in an attempt to extinguish a monstrous forest fire which threatened Popolion.



In Lumbertown however, Cala found the work to be fairly menial, and quite unsatisfactory, but at least Captain Fayhee provided the company a pair of two-hour-long breaks every day. The last of the mills had been reassembled yesterday afternoon, but the 4th company was ordered to remain in Lumbertown for the remainder of the week. The rest of the time spent here would be training and drills, Cala knew, but looking down at her scratched-up arms and splinter-laden hands, she preferred the monotony to ever lifting another log or thorny branch again.



As she neared the top of the gulch, she stopped for a moment to take in the sights, sounds, and scents of the coastal forest. The massive pines cast much of the earth in shade, but here and there were patches of dappled sunlight casting an emerald glow off of the verdure within. Blue-bonnet, Heath, Daisy and Buttercup all fought for space in these sunny plots, resulting in a cacophony of colour rivaling even the banners of Velika on a blustery day. Beneath it all were the sweeping carpets of moss and grass, whose sweet and earthy fragrances filled the crisp late afternoon air. These sensory inputs were still new to Cala, who had spent the first seventeen years of her life in the dark stony halls of Castanica.



Beyond the edge of the forest, she heard the creaking of the mills, and the persistent grating sound of more than a dozen two-man cross-cut saws. The breeze occasionally brought the scent of freshly hewn pine logs to her nose, and she knew the next hillock would bring Lumbertown-proper into view.



“Private Taar,” came the gruff voice from off to her right, “heading back to duty?”



Captain Fayhee had known that the job they had been sent to accomplish needed to be broken up by frequent breaks, but Cala suspected his main reason for allowing the company to remain so casual was because he simply did not have the stamina he once did. Grizzled and gray-haired, the old Castanic was in need of two things: retirement, and a shave. Even his horns were showing signs of heavy wear; nicks and cracks, scratches and chips. His potbelly decreed that he was better considered a captain of the tankard than a captain of the 4th VDB company. Of course, no one told him that; his pole axe had seen more battles than most of the 4th VDB combined, and had even bit into Argon flesh, or so he claimed.



“Yeah, I am. Are we running up town-hill again, or sparring?” she asked, not relishing the thought of either.



“Neither,” said the old captain, huffing as he caught up to Cala and trying to keep stride with her, “someone from Division arrived while the company was on leave, and wants to hold a meeting. He’s waiting at the inn.”



“About what? To thank us for a job well done?” Cala said, snickering slightly with derision.



“Maybe, I have no idea, truly. He wanted to wait until the whole company had been assembled. I had just caught up with Jamber and Reez a few minutes before I saw you sauntering out of the woods – how far into those woods are you going on our brief leave anyway? Sheesh…”



The rest of the walk down into the village was interrupted only briefly by a flock of sheep being herded into their path by a youth, clearly still learning the trade. The well worn dirt road into the town was still littered with bark and sprigs of evergreen from their restoration efforts, but the rains and winds were helping to neaten the way.



The inn was not a large building, and as the pair of soldiers approached, they saw that several of the company members stood outside, and others were half in and half out of the doorway.



“Make way, make way. Private Koil, Hink, inside” the old captain ordered, his tone filled with the authority of his position.



“Sir, we are unable, the whole company cannot possibly fit in the inn... what is this about Captain?” brusquely inquired the large Amani soldier standing just outside the door to the inn.



There was a sudden jostling by the door, and the soldiers who had been attempting to work their way into the room were stepping back as others began to spill forth from within. The company was not a large one, thirty soldiers in all with the Captain, but between four Baraka, six Amani, and a handful of grossly overweight Popori, the small family operated inn was bursting at the seams. As the lightly armoured men and women were emerging from the inn, Cala caught sight of a Human dressed in heavy plate, enameled in reds and gold. He carried his helm in his hands, sweat beading across his brow, and trickling in sluggish snakes down the side of his face and into his neatly trimmed sable beard. His eyes looked at once cruel, shrewd, and self-interested. Cala felt immediate unease in his presence.



“Captain Fayhee, I presume?” the man said, rather snobbishly, looking the captain over from head to toe, his expression doing little to conceal his distaste for Fayhee's condition. “I'm Commander Warmark of the 2nd Expeditionary Force. This inn is merely a rally point. Call this -” he gestured with disdain at the sweating and chatty soldiers still pouring out of the inn, “-band... together please, Captain.”



The old Captain gave an ear shattering whistle as the last of the company withdrew from the inn, “AT-TEN-TION! FALL IN!” he bellowed, leaving no one guessing why he still commanded a company.

 

Chapter 2: Selection



The soldiers, including Cala herself, quickly lined up and stood at attention, and the sounds of the nearby saws rushed in to fill the void the chattering soldiers had left behind at the captain’s words. While the last of the soldiers found their place in the formation, Cala felt the eyes of the middle aged human commander before her tugging at her form fitting leathers, working their way in and under. Her eyes flickered to his face even as her skin crawled from his gaze, in time to see a slight grin flit across his lips while he drank her in. Instantly, Cala knew she had acquired the attention of command in a way she knew meant trouble.



“You lot were the closest, so we thought we'd seek you out first. If you'd please follow me, we'll be climbing to the top of town hill, my colleagues are waiting there to brief you on the current situation.” said the commander, his eyes leaving Cala's body only briefly as he addressed the assembled soldiers.



Cala understood that many human males who visited Castanica emerged with an unquenchable lust for her kind; thin and lean, youthful, but with a severity that spoke volumes of the tumult that the Castanic people have endured for ages. Unfortunately, to those afflicted with 'Horn-Fever', (so dubbed by the ribald in their cups) Cala had no means to turn off her charm. Her traditional Castanic leathers revealed a great deal of her smooth coppery skin, and she had been told hundreds of time that her hair was as fantastic to behold as it was unique in its colouration. Many Castanic women had red hair, the colour of flames or blood. Cala's, however, had ever been a ghostly shade of rose, and even her elders could not recount seeing such hair in their lifetimes. Her strong and unblemished silver horns complemented the colour of her hair, and only added to her desirability. This type of attention, however, was not something she sought.

The exertion of reaching the top of town hill had dwindled a great deal from the first few visits; 4th company had been running the hill for the last several days, when it had become clear that the work would not take as long as they had been billeted for. Lumbertown Hill was the highest point for nearly a hundred kilometres in any direction. From it, one can see the Tuwangi frog-balloons to the south, the red-tile rooftops of Cresentia to the east, the green expanse of the Fey Forest to the north, and the shimmering blue of the Inland-Sea to the west.



At the summit, two more soldiers awaited the troops, and were handing out extendable spyglasses to the soldiers as they arrived. Many were fascinated by these, and had never beheld them before. Those with experience showed the others how to use the spyglasses, and a good deal of folly ensued. Some gasped in amazement and proclaimed they could see The Wheel of Velik from where they stood using the spyglasses, while others claimed they could see the Lumbertown Vanarch's daughter bathing nude in her back yard. As Cala accepted her spyglass, she calmly regained her position in the formation, and awaited instruction.



“OK, I've brought you up here for a reason. About a week ago, as you know, there was a brutal storm that came in from the west off the water. You've been cleaning up the results of it, so you know firsthand that it wasn't a run-of-the-mill hurricane. Oddly enough, Velika Plains received very little of the same storm, and Val Aureum to the south had sunshine. We have had reports from Shara that a few isolated townships were devastated by a storm on the very day this one hit, but again, it seems isolated. There was one other peculiarity. The storm Shara experienced came in from the east.” the commander explained, addressing all assembled, occasionally lifting his chest in a haughty manor as if demonstrating for all to see how concise and expertly he could deliver his orders.



“Shortly after the tempest, our scholars ventured out by boat to study the water temperature changes and tidal fluctuations brought about by the storm. They returned with odd reports... reports of a new land mass in the center of the Inland-Sea.” As the commander said this, several soldiers glanced nervously over their shoulders the west. “We sent 1st Expeditionary Force five days ago by boat to inspect the island, and report back within forty-eight hours. Ladies and gentlemen, those eight soldiers were due to return to port two days ago, and nothing has been heard from soldier or commander since their departure.”



A giant albatross soared low over the hilltop, its massive wings darkening the assembled with shadow as it passed. The silence was tangible as hundreds of different scenarios played themselves out in the minds of the thirty tired and sweaty members of the company.



The commander gave a sign to one of the soldiers who had been waiting for the company at the top of the hill.



“Please look below my feet here, you’ll see a line etched in the soil. Using your spyglass, please look to your west in the direction this line points” said the gaunt human whose robes and scepter identified him as a Mystic.



Cala and the rest of the company did as requested, and suddenly a murmur came over what had been a very quiet crowd. Through the extended copper tube, Cala could see the Inland-Sea glistening in the afternoon sunlight. A sudden shimmer on the horizon made her pause and study the area with care. What she was seeing was not only fascinating, but infinitely beautiful. In the distance, the top of what appeared to be a tree glittered like ephemeral amethysts on the water. She peered over her spyglass with her naked eye at the spot she'd been looking at, but the shimmering tree and the shimmering water all sparkled as one.



"What exactly are we seeing, sir?" asked Captain Fayhee, lowering his own spyglass.



The Mystic raised his voice to address the gathering. "What you are seeing is, for lack of a better word, a tree. We are not certain exactly what it is, but it looks like a tree with lavender crystals for leaves. This, and the fact that there appear to be collections of ruins scattered across the island make it an area which must be protected from would-be pilferers."



Warmark shifted his weight to his other foot, and continued. “Several companies of the VDB have already departed for the Island, several hours ago, in fact, with the intent of setting up a base camp and to protect the island from looters. We are now assembling a 2nd Expeditionary Force to head to this island. We want to know what happened to 1st EF – did they make it to the island, did they encounter trouble at sea - and we want to know what this island is. As you all know, if Arun and Shara are dreaming up new land masses, a new and unpredictable age is dawning. This island is the epicenter of this new dream, and so the scholars have dubbed it 'The Island of Dawn'. We mean to get to the bottom of this. I'm here to hand select 2nd EF. Captain Kotcha, Seargeant Ellismin -” he gestured to the two human soldiers who had handed out the spyglasses - “and myself will make up the main part of the force, but we need five more. Any volunteers?”



At this, a flurry of hands went to the air. Everyone assembled, including Cala, were too intrigued by this mystery to pass up the opportunity to investigate. The fact that Lumbertown promised nothing but boredom for the next couple of days was also expedient to Warmark's cause. The commander rolled his eyes, and pointed to a monstrous Amani with a pair of dirks strapped to his side, a rotund Popori in a robe with a Sorcerer's disk half tucked into his backpack, a quiet blue Baraka with greatsword at his back, and a High-Elf woman Cala had spoken to several times, whose staff, she was told, came from a rare tree near Allemantheia.



Cala saw Warmark searching the crowd of soldiers frantically, desperately, his eyes moving from soldier to soldier, indicating that he was hunting but had not found his prey. Cala knew what prey he sought, and so stepped forward from where she had been hiding in the back row. His eyes fell upon her, and a smile besieged his face. His hand rose and curled into a fist, and his index finger flew out to point at Cala.



“You.”

Lorgarn

Agreed, it's good for a 1st timer. I will continue reading the rest of the chapters when they arrive.

stayontarget

http://www.terafans.com/topic/4994-archer-column-chapter-3/

Chapter 3: Expedition



She wasn't used to boats. The rocking, creaking, listing and heaving did little to quell the butterflies in her stomach, but at least she was faring better than some of her comrades. Haroton, the large Amani warrior who had been selected before everyone else by Warmark, was violently retching over the side of the boat, while Ameera, the Elvish Priest, looked on and tried to comfort him. Ameera surprised Cala; for a High Elf, she showed what appeared to be signs of compassion and empathy completely uncharacteristic for her race. She spoke with Cala at length while they prepared for this journey, talking of her family home near Allemantheia, and sharing some of her aspirations. Perhaps it was her devotion to the gods and to the Titans that kept her grounded, for as a priest and healer, she was required to maintain an affinity with everyone around her to advance in her order.

They had departed from the small port just West of Lumbertown that morning, the air still thick with morning fog. When the sun burned the mists away near noon, the features of Arun were already beginning to lose definition. Cala could already see the shimmering purple tree on the horizon without the aid of her spyglass, which Sergeant Ellismin had graciously allowed the 2nd Expeditionary Force keep for the voyage. Cala guessed they would arrive at the Island of Dawn sometime in the early evening, and her sense of excitement was palpable. A new land mass... such a thing had not been seen for centuries to her knowledge. Which Titan was responsible for it, she pondered casually as she watched the waves breaking over the prow of the small corvette.



Cala spent the better part of the afternoon tending to her bow. She oiled and polished the unblemished yew, applied a light coating of wax to the string, and ensured the copper bands encircling the wood every few inches were tight and sparkling. This bow was nothing like the one she had played with as a child. Back then, she had used a much smaller and lighter bow, made from the more tropical woods of Wildwave Bay and Mistmoar Island. She also used physical arrows back then; narrow shafts of reed tipped with sharp and spiralled Kinte shells. Those arrows were fine for penetrating rotting stumps or mounds of wet sand piled high by Castanic children with buckets and shovels, but were no match for any real dangers which she might encounter as a member of the Valkion Federation's military. The arrows Cala shot now were manifestations of her own energy, the product of years of training and intense concentration. The bow itself served to amplify and give shape to the energy, and the release of the drawn bowstring propelled the energy from her mind to her target. Archery was almost more of a mental art than a marshal.



“Hey gorgeous!” came a high-pitched declaration from near her elbow. She was sitting up on a barrel, cross-legged and facing the bow of the boat. “Actually think you'll need to use that thing over there? Ooooh, mysterious disappearing expeditions... Oooooh, unknown dangers... hehehe!” came the snickering laughter from somewhere below her.



She glanced down with a grin to the ferret-faced Popori beside her. This was the first time he'd spoken to her, but in typical Popori fashion, it was as if they had known one another for years. “Who knows! Better to be safe than dead, isn't that the old adage?” she replied with a smile.



“Oh, hehehe, I wouldn't worry about it too much. No tree has ever done me harm! Hehehe.” as he said this, he stared out to sea off the bow of the boat. Cala followed his gaze, noticing that the sun had begun it's plummet back into the sea. In the distance, the purple tree stood towering above the water, it's trunk a gray column, twisting and rotating in segments, some sections barely holding together, others as thick as a mountain. Below the tree, spires of ancient buildings could just been seen, and what appeared to be statues of some kind of winged beings filled the waters near the island cliffs , some leaning drunkenly, others missing arms and heads. “I'm Raskel, by the way, nice to meet you, sexy lady!” the Popori said with grin so big his beady eyes were nearly forced shut.



“Cala Taar, nice to meet you too, sorcerer.” she said, looking back down at the animal spirit. His robe looked as if it concealed several sacks of grain, but most Popori's are as portly as they are jolly. The badge on his gray robe was a wheel or disk, almost matching the one slightly too big for his satchel, its points sticking out at awkward angles. “Hopefully all we'll find there are trees and a happy Expeditionary Force who decided to take some extended leave.”



Raskel's grin dropped suddenly from his whiskered face, the black bandana of fur around his eyes suddenly looking serious and pensive. “Wow... you think we could get some extended leave too? Suppose we stay on that paradise and set up a hotel! You and I,” the smile began returning, widening with every word, “we could start it up, I can cook and you can get us customers with your charm!” he began clapping his furry paws together.



Cala couldn't help but laugh, the first time in days. “I don't know Raskel, it might be hard to get customers with the military turning away all the ships heading to the place. Not to mention the VDB would be none too pleased to have to send a 3rd EF to come rescue us from our vacation!” she said, brushing a strand of pink hair behind her sharply pointed ear.



The plump Popori hiked up his puddling gray robe and turned around. “Well, I guess we'll be landing soon, I should go find Boring and bring him topside! See ya, Cala.”



'Boring', as Raskel had playfully dubbed him, was the 2nd Expeditionary Force's Slayer, a large blue Baraka who had spent nearly the entire trip with his nose glued to a thick and musty leather-bound treatise on the construction of Tulufan. His actual name was Borland, but 'Boring' was close enough for the Ferret.



Moments after Raskel had departed from her company, Cala picked up her oil-cloths and wax block and headed to the main area of the ship. She walked rather tentatively, lurching with each rise and fall of the vessel. Ameera was still tending to Haroton, though his scales had a slightly less green hue to them now. Sergeant Ellismin was above the pair, half way up the rigging, holding the mast with his legs while he held his spyglass. His wiry frame was masked in his billowy yellow muslin robe, tied around his waist by its indigo sash.



“Private Taar, would you assist me please by relaying the following to the Commander? 'The best approach will be to the south where the waters seem to churn the least. All other sides appear to have raised cliffs and waterfalls about a kilometre off shore. Advise reduction in speed as we near the shoreline, and extra eyes at the prow to watch for submerged dangers.'” said the Mystic, lowering his spyglass and addressing the Castanic Archer with a look that said “sooner is better than later”. She responded courteously, and headed off for the main cabin.



Timidly, she knocked on the heavy wooden door before her, aware of the faint voices within.



“Come in, come in.”



At a small map table near the corner of the small room stood Commander Warmark and Captain Kotcha, neither one had bothered to turn around to see who had entered. Kotcha, a young human who often dragged around an ugly, black-steel bardiche, had wolfish features and scraggly black hair which grew out of his face on his chin and cheeks. His eyes spoke of cruelty and were icy cold. His simple plate of unburnished steel and copper-plated iron gave him the appearance of a metallic tree, as he stood a good half-hand taller than the Commander.



“I was instructed by the Sergeant to relay the following.” she said, reciting the message Ellismin had just tasked her with. Before she had finished speaking, both men at the table had turned to face her, and had stopped their mumbling over the map. “Will that be all, sir?” she asked, her hand on the door again.



“South? Velik's navel, that will take another two hours of sailing... Fine, fine,” Warmark uttered, turning back to the map and gesturing for Cala to take her leave, “tell him he can inform the ship's Captain to scrap the initial approach in favour of a southerly route.” As she turned to leave, from the corner of her eye, she caught the Commander turning his head to gaze at her back-side as she left the cabin.



It was indeed close to another two hours before the boat slowed to a halt and weighed anchor a few hundred yards from the stony cliffs of the island. The land itself was covered in flowering trees, meadow grasses, and clumps of wild flowers. Gulls, turns, and gannets created a mad polyphony of sound all about the group, as they rowed to a gap in the cliffs where other boats sat moored in the calmer waters. Thick ladders of twisted rope and wood rose from the cliff face to the top, some dozen meters up. The Baraka and Amani were the first to ascend – mainly to ensure that the ladder would hold - followed by the Captain, Sergeant, Commander, the Popori (who struggled a great deal due to his rotund physical disposition), and lastly the pair of females. By the time Cala and Ameera had reached the precipice, the others, with the exception of Raskel, had already begun to make their way to the encampment.



Raskel lay on his back, his hands on his chest, lungs heaving for air. His robe had fallen open around his belly, which rose and fell like a beleaguered blacksmith's bellows. “The...command...er...said...to report...to camp...when...you...get up...here...” the labouring ferret said, with a little over-the-top thespian flare. He hopped up onto his long feet, and said “ we'd better get over there, or else the party will start without us! Wow, get a load of this place!”