~|Nessa|~ I would have much preferred being a military strategist over a politician. I'm supposed to lie, appear to agree to a fairy diplomat without actually promising her anything, and to agree to a good marriage, so that it may benefit my country, not me. 

I clench my anger and thrust it down for the tenth time today. My younger sister, Alianora, is the military strategist. And my youngest sister, little Nerilana is to be a great warlord.

Alianora doesn't have much of head for thinking; she would much rather do something which she's told to do, rather than make the desicion herself. 

And Nerilana doesn't like strategy games one bit. She prefers commiting things to memory. Which, drives my brain insane. I'm supposed to act witty around the dwarves, but speak slowly, Nessa! As well as act like I have no brains around faires so 'that way they'll understand you'.

Honestly. Only one person around here is sane. My cousin, Helios. He's a nice chap, but I'm afraid he toys around with too many ladies.

Then there's my brother, Ilaran. He's a fool. I swear, he has to be Light elf. Alright, I know he's not, but honestly, I know he hates me. 'Don't do this, don't do that, do this, do that.' All. Day. Long. We're twins, but just because he's a few minutes older than me doesn't mean he's King!

Yet. He's being groomed to be the next king. If I can't be strategist, to ensure he isn't constantly throwing our people into jeopardy, then I want to be Queen.

I know I can't, after all it's 'the first-born' who is to be the next ruler, but what if the next in line is going to destroy our kingdom? What then?

One can only ponder. 

This is what I really want Nessara to look like. (I'm making Nassara her real name, alright? But everybody calls her Nessa.)

Mordir~

Sometimes things don't always work out the way you planned. 

In battle, that is unacceptable. 

A plan is completely necessary, and all of the possiblities must be thought out and eliminated. Plans can be complicated, with branches that go off in different directions for each different possibilty. They can be simple too, with a sappy order to fight your best.

In the history of all great battles, so many fearless warriors have lost their lives, and their wars, because of too much confidence. Their numbers may have been great, but a small army with a great plan can easily overcome the better.

In war, there are many battles, some wins and some losses. Without effective plans, it could all be over in days.

That's my job.

Coming up with plans along with the other generals.  We each have our own squadron of warriors, and the plan often relies on the other generals and their group's.

Which is why I hate war. So many things can go wrong. 

But sometimes people make stupid descisions, which is what leads to the war in the first place. 

It gets really stressful, so I can be usualy found in random fields, gazing up at the sky. 

I sighed, doing just that.

The clouds covered the sun for the most part, hovering over the earth with a forboding demeanor. 

My thoughts would not stray from the battle, however. I couldn't bring myself to stop thinking about each one. I couldn't bring myself to think about my future, nothing but the war. Because I wasn't about to let us loose. 

The grass flowed soflty in the wind, occasionaly ticking my skin and bringing me back to reality before I got too engulfed in my thoughts.

~~~~~~~

I have to go. This may be pretty bad, and I'll fix it later!

-()–()- Cheling

I stood in the stables, gawking at the injured otter before me.

"What happened?" I snarled at the nervous-looking fairy-boy before me. 

"The- The dragons attacked us!" he squealed. Honestly, for the crown-prince of all Rimbriding fairies, Jraing wasn't very brave. Even though he was at least a year older than me, he still cowered as my wings began to hum, lifting me off the floor. 

I zipped around the otter, taking in the extent of his injuries. Reafal was a good boy, always calm and cool with any rider, but he looked very bad. His little head was drooped as he lay breathing heavily on the dusty floor, and blood was oozing out of a long gash down his belly. 

"Go," I said to Jraing. He wasn't a bad-looking fairy I suppose, with deep red hair and tan skin (Everyone always said that the Rimbriding royals had some Frimidinge blood in them), but the terror in his flaming eyes and the otter blood smeared down his fine clothes ruined the image of calm, collected prince. "Feal will be fine. Go up to the castle and report this. There is no way that the dragons are here without reason."

He certainly didn't need to be told twice. Whirling around on his heel, Jraing's wings flash out behind him, and he left with a swoop and a swish of wind.  I turned back to Reafal, still lying on the floor. 

"C'mon boy," I whispered, pushing him up to his feet and helping him to his stall. I start to clean the gash in his belly, and wind bandages on the rest of his scrapes.

"They'll need you soon," I murmured as I left the stable an hour later.

The rumors were true. The dragons were closing in on the Rimbriding Palace. 

Yeaahh, I'm rewriting that BIG time.

Mordir Laputa~

"Each squadron much know exactly what we are going to do! If we can create an organized war front, with strategies to resort too, we can win this war!" 

The generals exhanged glances. 

"We have always resorted to just going all out on the battlefield! Only a few decades ago we didn't even have organized sections! A chaotic mass will not win this war!" I tried to protest, standing before the large council.

A mix of light and dark elves, each on with cold, dissaproving eyes. I was, after all, younger then all of them. Why should they listen to me?

Because I was right.

"Mordir, we have won our battles this way! Nobody can win all of the battles, but with our experienced fighters we can take our enemies down!" One of the oldest, more traditional light elves finally spoke.

"But this is one of the biggest wars. Our race has advanced from years ago, but so have the dragons and out enemies! Strategy is the key to this war! I know you are all used to each elf using their own skills and powers to defeat as many men as possible. But in this war, we must fight as a whole!"

I shook my head, running my fingers through the long slick black hair that identified me as a Dark Elf. "Strategy. We have squadrons, each general, including me, has our own group of a hundred men. If we can coordinate and drill our warriors to know how to form a wall of their sheilds at a command, for example, we could be impenetrable! Imagine a feild of scattered elf warriors!

"The dragons could scortch us!"

A murmer of realization rippled throughout the men and woman. 

"With the special fireproof sheilds we have been learning to reproduce, a simple command could form this barrier! What would be scarrier, a wall of elves moving in coordination, or a jumbled mass?!?"

"Mordir, please stop. We understand at this point." Jayer, a highly respected elf general, let out a sigh. "We will consider it, but it's different."

It was then that I let out a swear. "….tradition." Elves have exception hearing, and I got several harsh glares. And trust me, for I know, there is nothing like an elf's glare.

"You are dismissed, Mordir Laputa. We shall discuss your propostions and take them seriously. Our final descision should be reached by the sun's set."

I nodded curtly, following it with a small bow before backing out. As soon as the large, oakwood doors shut behind me, I lost my composure and clenched my fists.

I could feel a slight breeze from my anger, and took a couple deep breaths to calm my temper. 

I may be young, but I know how to win this war. Apparently, however, negotiating isn't my strong suite.

Eventually I started continuing on my way, silently praying that the council would agree with me. 

It didn't take long for me to find the nearest grassy field. Usually I wandered farther into the distance, but I wanted to be near in case their descision was made sooner, and didn't feel like walking.

I wanted to get right to thinking, so that was what I did.

I collapsed in the field, the grass collapsing under my body as I stared up the grey sky, which gave the world a gloomy, foreboding feel.

I could still vaugely hear noise coming from the main building, and could see it if I twisted around.

But I didn't want to focus on the world around me. I just tried to focus on the wind and about the war. The war controlled my life. I was always constantly thinking about it, developing strategies, practicing with my squadron.

It was why they elected me to be a general.

Smart descision on their part. We would win this thing if I had any part of it.

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, there y'all go! I'm still working on his picture!

Selene~

"So, what news?"

The king and queen of the Light Elves look up from their undisturbed plates; apparently they weren't expecting me to talk to them, which is understandable considering their earlier decision. But they aren't eating, and they believe in three healthy meals every day during a war, so something is up.

"Rimbriding Palace is being attacked," my father replies. Rimbriding, I recall, is a type of water fairy. "It's a rather vicious onslaught; we're trying to decide if we should send reinforcements, and if so, how many."
"I'm sure they'd love all the help they can get," I reply.

"Yes," my mother says, "except we also need all our forces here. The dragons are unpredictable and dangerous. For all we know, this could simply be a lure to make us vulnerable."

"Well, you have to send someone. The fairies aren't going to last forever."

My parents exchange glances. My reasoning is logical! I simply don't understand it.

It suddenly comes to light that I'm not hungry, and I excuse myself. I need to go for another ride.

***

My eyesight and hearing are sharp even by elf standards– all my training wasn't for naught. So therefore I have plenty of notice that I will come across Mordir, staring at the sky.

I know him well, and I see him often. The general is very curteous and I do admire him. Tying Lux to a nearby tree, I decide to test a manouver.

Lux has seen me turn invisible so many times it's no longer a shock to him, but it's still rather strange for me to not see myself in the flesh. Without making a sound, I walk to the edge of the field he lies on.

"Rough day?"

He starts slightly. I've surprised him! That's good; it means I have been successful with the development of this strategy. I walk towards him and sit down, cross-legged.

He stands and bows, as he always does. With him up and me down, it reminds me just how much larger he is than me. It's like some sort of mountain that I'm supposed to climb.

Of course, when a royal sits, you sit, and he follows the unspoken rule. After a smile, a "Good afternoon, Princess Lupin", and another "Rough day?" by me, he replies, "A little tough, yes."

"How?"

He tells me about his new idea for strategy on the field, and how it's much more likely to be successful than our original battle plans. Then he explains his meeting with the other generals, and how their reaction wasn't promising.

The answer seems obvious to me. "Why can't you do both? Move in a military fashion, but use your attributed powers to your advantage? That way, we'd be an ordered, coordinated powerhouse."

___

I'm going to stop there because I'm not sure how Mordir would respond. Let me know if anything I did was wrong, Katy!

Nightlock 

~~

Soft scratches came from the parchment as I traced out the path our army would take from Rimbriding Palace to the land of the elves. My claw, dipped in ink, also sketched out the symbols for notes on the side. Taking a moment to look up and smile, I recalled the past events with a grin. After Plutarch found out about Rimbriding Palce, and SearingSpear was Cast down, it was I who took control of the job. Finally, after years of tireless work fighting for the noble dragons, I am the one who is in charge, not that blithering blue-scaled idiot SearingSpear. Glancing out the window of my study, I see the very dragon walking past. Except this was not the audacious and bold dragon I once knew, merely a pitiful shell of her former self.

Her face was marred by a terrible wound that exposed the red, raw skin of half of her face. Her tail dragged in the dust, and her eyes were a dull, unseeing gray. As she plodded down the street, all other common dragons averted their eyes from the sad sight. Shaking my head and turning away, I continued to plan the final attack on Rimbriding Palace in my war study, a single candle flickering beside me. Suddenly, the door creaked. I looked up expectantly, and was not disappointed. General Plutarch stood there, his deep-green scales even darker in the dim light. 

"Hello, Nighlock," he said in his deep voice. "Hard at work, I see?" I nodded, my wings rustling beside me.

"I've planned it out, sir. This time, Rimbriding Palace shall be ours." He slowly steps towards my desk, his eyes flashing, but I feel no fear. I'm sure the general will approve of my plan. We both have the same cunning, the same want for war. He surveys it carefully, finally giving a nod of assent.

"Very good. I see you're nothing like SearingSpear. As you said, Rimbriding Palace wil surely fall with this final blow." Flicking his tail, he left my study, but not before calling out a few important words:

"We strike at dawn. I'll be expecting you on the front lines."

Yesss! I could barely contain my joy. Finally, after sitting in a dusty study for so long, I could leave this place and fight! At dawn, I thought. At dawn.  

-()–()- Cheling

I ran though the castle corridors, ignoring the servants, noblefairies, and pretty much everything else as I streaked through the halls.  Finally, after about ten minutes of hard running, I reached the queen's chambers, where she asked to talk to me.  There was no one outside the door, so I took a minute to rearrange my dress, twisting the fabric back into position.  Rumors about my alterations to my uniform had spread all throughout Rimbriding Palace, and since I didn't know what the queen might have heard, I needed to look my best.  

The grand oaken door opened, and I slipped through into Queen Camila's private chambers.  She sat at a large table in the corner of her sitting room, writing what appeared to be a letter with an old quill pen.  Her golden hair flashed in the light from large windows lining the room.  I cleared my throat respectfully, not wanting to interrupt her.

The queen turned and rose from her desk. "Ah, Cheling," she said, striding over to an overstuffed sofa in the center of the room.  A small table before it held a plate of cakes and pastries. "I need you to help me with something.  Come, sit."  I obliged, and snatched up the largest cake from the top of the tray.  Queen Camila sat and laughed before continuing.

"As I understand it, my son had a bit of an adventure this morning." I nodded, stuffing a second cake into my mouth.  I didn't care if it was proper or not, I had spent my entire morning cleaning Reafal up, and until the queen scolded me I would eat what I liked.  "I feared as much.  Though he is a good storyteller, I'm afraid that Jraing does not have much of an imagination.  From the descriptions he gave us, we have identified several important Dragon leaders, whose names I have been instructed not to reveal.

"The Council of Elders (The big fairy council) disagrees with me, but I believe that Jraing was targeted specifically.  He is the only heir to the Rimbriding throne, and as such, he is, in a sense, our only hope.  We have enough problems with this war already, and we cannot afford to be squabbling amongst ourselves as to who the rightful ruler of the Rimbriding clan is, in the event that Charime and I die."

Throughout all this I had been silent, amazed at the calmness in the queen's tone as she discussed the possibility of her own demise (Ok, and maybe marveling at the sheer deliciousness of the cakes as well), but now I was confused.

"But Your Majesty, what does all this have to do with me? I mean, I'm only the Fish-And-Otter-Stablegirl!"

"Ah, but it has everything to do with you.  I need you to get Jraing out of Rimbriding territory, in fact, I need you to get him out fairy lands altogether.  I need you to get him to the Elevenshine."

I gaped at her for a moment before I remember who it is that I'm gaping at. "The Elvenshine? What? Why?"

"It is the only place where he will ever be truly safe.  The elven leaders are mostly there already, they will protect him.  But also," she said, glancing over at me,  "I know that I can trust you to keep him safe." 

I opened my mouth to say more, but a guard burst in at that very moment, gasping: "Your Majesty, the dragons are here!"

The queen grabbed my arm and looked straight into my eyes. "Get him out.  The fate of the clan depends upon it."

With that, I whirled around and bolted out the door.

————

So, I'm gonna take Jraing on as a second charrie if that's ok with y'all, and I'll get the two of them to the Elvenshine in one piece! Also, I might make pics of them… 

Ok, Cheling… (pretend there are fairy wings, not angel wings)

Selene~

I suppose I feel better now. Of course, my own problem was not resolved, and I will still be stuck in Fyrelor forever. But I helped Mordir, and for some reason helping him resolve his own problem feels really, really good.

Especially because it gives us an advantage on the battlefield. And if we have an advantage, we might even win. And if we win this war, maybe– just MAYBE– I will be allowed to assassinate Plutarch.

He's the one I care about. That Silveth? She's just a figure; nothing will happen if she dies. Yes, it would give me great satisfaction to see her dead by my hand. Yes, it would be an honor to get to her and kill her, which this new assassin will not be able to do. But the generals are idiots. Assassinating her will not get them anywhere; she may be a puppet of Plutarch, but she has no power whatsoever.

If they sent us off to kill someone with real power…

Like Nightlock. Nightlock is actually a danger, and I know her only because of my contact with Plutarch. She is, apparently, a major general now. I don't know what happened to SearingSpear and I don't want to; all I know is that Nightlock has taken her place, and to assassinate Nightlock would be an honor I most surely deserve.

But Plutarch…

All I want to do is kill Plutarch.

And now that I have acknowledged this, if only in my head, I can finally understand everything. I can understand my motives and my reasons and I can understand myself, at last, because I am very, very difficult to dicipher. 

I say goodbye to Mordir, my mind straying elsewhere.

Why did I only just realize this thirst for murder? I understand now I have been feeling this for quite a while. So why did it just come to light?

Because I let it. Because yet another job slipped through my fingers and I've lost my temper. I want to kill Plutarch with all my heart and all my soul, because of this horrid war, because of the mark on my arm, because of the death of my brother. Because everything that made my life horrible can be traced back to him.

And I want him dead.

___

Not my best. I may re-write this later if I read over it and deem it unworthy.

Also, Admins–if I stray too far from the CB regulations, just let me know.