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The Tale of Thunder - Chapter One (The Power Within)

Thunder Kayowen(Ryan Goodrich)
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Galen stared at the mage. Was he telling the truth? Was he doing this just to spite him? Something inside him said the mage was speaking the truth. Something inside him had sparked a small flame of anger. That flame was growing into a bonfire at a rapid pace. Hatred glinted across his eyes. The Western Alliances was truly gone. He had no reason left to fight. There was nothing left for him to fight for. Freedom? Where would he go if he were free?

He suddenly felt very light-headed. Without realizing it, his knees gave way under him. He collapsed forward, his arms flying out to stop his fall. He sat there on his hands and knees staring at the ground. His heart was pounding at a frenzy. He could barely hear the double-doors at the other end of the arena open. Out of the corner of his vision he could see several dozen pairs of metal-plated boots moving towards him. The feet all circled around him.

"Git up," a voice said in a rough orcish accent.

"Mebee e's dead," another said.

"Don' be stoofid," a third said. "E's still breedin'."

"E is?"

"'Ow stoofid kin you git?"

One set of boots moved towards Galen. A boot suddenly flew up, connecting with his stomach. The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air. His flight was suddenly halted when he smashed into a large and solid form. He smashed onto the ground, dust flying from the impact. Galen coughed to get the air circulating back into his lungs.

The object he hit into laughed. "Dat felt funny."

A pair of rough hands reached down and picked Galen up. He was then lifted several feet in the air. He couldn't breathe as well. The armor he was wearing was cutting off his windpipe. He grabbed at the hands holding him, trying to tear himself loose. The grip on him was as hard as steel. Nearly a dozen half-orcs surrounded him.

"Put 'im down," one said. "Lessee if'n he kin fight on 'is feet." Galen was slammed down onto his feet, and then shoved towards his sword. He stumbled towards it, then reached down to grab it. He then stood and turned to look at the half-orcs. They didn't look like they'd kill him unless he actually tried to fight. Looked like he'd better start fighting if he wanted to die.

He suddenly flashed towards the half-orc that was closest to him. The half-orc apparently wasn't expecting his sudden approach and attempted to dodge aside. Galen's sword took him across the side. The half-orc roared in pain. Galen spun around, his sword suddenly embedding itself in the half-orc's back. The giant oaf fell to the ground without any more noise.

The spectators started cheering again.

The half-orcs started to close in on him. Galen ducked suddenly, a half-orc narrowly missing him with its enormous mace. He then leapt aside, another half-orc's greatsword smashing into the ground where he had been previously. He rammed into the side of one half-orc, sufficed to say hurt somewhat, sending the half-orc backward onto its backside.

A half-orc suddenly barreled into him, sending him flying through the air. He suddenly hit into another half-orc which had been charging him as well. Now completely disoriented, as well as aching all along his back, Galen smashed into the ground and rolled for a few yards until he slowed to a halt. Even though his vision was spinning, he could make out the half-orcs moving towards him. Two sets of arms roughly pulled him to his feet, holding him firmly in place between the two. One half-orc stood directly in front of him and was putting on a spiked gauntlet.

The half-orc grinned brutishly as he brought his arm back for the hit. This seems more like what'd you'd see thugs doing in an alleyway than in an arena fight, Galen thought. The air suddenly flooded from Galen's lungs at the impact of the blow. If it hadn't been for the two thugs holding him up, he surely would have crumpled to the ground.

As his head sagged, he noticed his armor was dented inward as well as punctured from the spikes on the half-orc's gauntlet. The half-orc stepped up to Galen, holding its head down so it could whisper to him.

"Yer jess like the Westurn 'liance," the half-orc's breath smelled horrible.

"weak an' pathetic. Yer type don' desurve ter live. Dey should all be killed."

The half-orc belted him again. "Yer kind do make good slaves though. An good entertainment when dey's being killed in da arener 'ere."

Galen was trembling with rage. Thunder suddenly rumbled overhead. The half-orcs looked up into the sky. Galen paid the thunder no mind. He could see from the corner of his eyes that clouds were rapidly forming overhead. The sky had been clear a moment ago, but now overcast clouds were suddenly billowing up from nowhere. Galen didn't know what was happening, but the gathering storm appeared to be feeding him energy.

His vision blurred slightly as the energy filling him became nearly unbearable from the amounts filling him. Without knowing it, he had torn loose of the half-orcs' strong grips. He suddenly leapt up, planting both of his feet on the lead half-orc's chest. He then pushed with his feet, sending him flying back in a backwards flip to land several yards away. The lead half-orc struggled to get to his feet from where he'd fallen.

Half-orcs slowly began to surround him. They looked a bit more wary than before, but not enough to keep their distance for long. Galen tore off his ruined breastplate without even grunting from the effort. He looked about at his assailants. They all fell back a step under his gaze, all of them looking visibly nervous. Electricity suddenly sparked from his eyes.

Lightning flashed overhead. Thunder rumbled. Electricity sparked all around him. Some sparked from his fingers. Galen instantly knew what that meant. Lightning suddenly flashed from the clouds, striking Galen, followed by more thunder. Galen fell to his hands and knees from the overwhelming surge of energy.

All of the half-orcs fell back from the lightning. They all looked over to where Galen was, surprised to still see him alive. Galen slowly raised his eyes to stare at the lead half-orc. The half-orc began to try and crawl backwards hastily. Galen's eyes glowed white from the amounts of power flowing through him. He slowly got to his feet and turned to the half-orc with the spiked gauntlet. He raised both hands, pointing all his fingers in the general direction of the half-orc. Electricity suddenly flashed from his fingertips, engulfing the half-orc. The half-orc thrashed and rolled about, shrieking in agony.

Galen cut off the energy flow. The half-orc's charred body sizzled, some smoke rising from its dead body. Galen turned to the rest of the half-orcs. They all sped up their retreat they had slowly been doing. Galen's hands shot up, electricity engulfing two more half-orcs. He then raised his hands, the electricity lifting the half-orcs off the ground. He then swung both his hands opposite directions and lowered them. The half-orcs' charred corpses crashed into the audience.

Galen then realized he had an audience watching this all. An audience of Valarians. Them. This is their fault. Valarian scum. They will pay for the Western Alliance's downfall. I will make them pay, Galen's mind screamed. He then looked down at his hands. Two balls of electricity had formed inches away from the palms of his hands. He automatically knew what to do.

Blasts of electrical energy shot from his hands, pummeling into the audience. Benches were blown to pieces, spectators flew through the air. The cheering for more was replaced with screams of terror. The mage was up from his seat commanding his men to stop Galen. Why doesn't he do it himself if he's got magic powers, Galen thought. He paused from his thoughts to look at both entrances to the arena. The half-orcs had obviously ran, only to be replaced with arena guards as they swarmed into the arena.

Galen's eyes narrowed as he dared the guards to get any closer. They all seemed fairly reluctant, but closed the distance nonetheless. Electricity seared from his hands, tearing through guard after guard. What guards that actually made it to Galen were suddenly blasted back when he suddenly gave out an electrical shock wave.

Galen was turning his attention back to the fleeing audience when he suddenly noticed the mage was incanating. Before he could do anything else, the mage blasted him with the spell. Everything went black.


Galen's eyes popped open at the sound of a large metal door being opened. He moved his head to look around, immediately regretting it when a splitting headache assaulted him. He groaned noisily. Footsteps could be heard approaching him. He turned his head slightly despite the pain. Stone block walls surrounded him on three sides. On the fourth side was a series of bars, each less than half a foot apart from each other, extending clear from the floor to the ceiling.

Suddenly, the owner of the footsteps revealed himself. The mage from the arena. The mage looked down at him, his mouth formed into a scowl, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"Shame," the mage finally said. "You never said you knew magic. You could have had great potential."

The mage turned to leave, only to be stopped by a croak from Galen. "Wait!"

The mage stopped and gave him a look as if Galen were something unpleasant on the bottom of his shoe.

"Is that all you came to say?"

"No," the mage said. "Lord Alex von Kerstien has ordered your execution in two hours. I came to have one last look at you before you die. You held such promise as a glatiator, or even a fighter if you lived to see your freedom, but you just had to throw it all away. I guess that's what I get for taking you under my wing."

"Under your wing!" Galen growled. "You call throwing me into an arena whether I wanted to or not to fight to the death taking me under your wing? That sounds like your were throwing me to the wolves and better on how long I'd last."

"You expected better?" the mage thundered. "You, an enemy of Valaria, were spared from all the horrors your people suffered. You could have just died along with the rest of them for all I cared. But instead I fed you, clothed you, and gave you a choice of living or dying! It seems you wanted to die all along with the rest of your people. Such foolishness must have run in your kingdom."

With that last, the mage turned and left.


The Tale of Thunder: Chapter 1 - The Power Within © Thunder Kayowen(Ryan Goodrich)

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