{Please do not post on this topic. Post in the feedback section. This is going to be my main story now, and I am going to do a little bit of Friendship every now and then. So I hope you enjoy!} Introduction In the land of Zuzark, clans fight to be at the top. Each clan is made up of people from their own culture. They each have there own clan name. French-The Revolutioners English- The Hulnars Spanish- The Highsiders Swedish- The Freefallers German- The Supremes Italian- The Republic China- The Flames And there are many more, too many to name, actually. But each one has the same set up. A humongous dome that can fit however many people inside and it fits sleeping quarters, medical quarters, bathing quarters, training quarters, and more. There is also a jail area where the intruders from other lands are taken. If they are invited or accepted, they are treated with hospitality. The main war going on is between THe Hulnars and The Revolutioners. It has been going on for nearly 14 years. Chief Maurice Antonia married the princess of The Hulnars, Marlene. Marlene died nearly 10 months after the wedding on The Revolutioners ground. Maurice was blamed and the war has been going on ever since. Here is a take of this happening in a young mans ways. Hear his thoughts and see what he sees, whether needed to or not.
Chapter 1 The field was thick with fog. The sky lightened little by little in the early dawn. I quickened my run. I knew the times were bad, but not like this. The moderators were cracking down on every little thing, trying to make our world a better place. But it just worsened. The dense fog was starting to thin. I had almost reached my destination. Just a few hundred yards more and... Bam! I was hit from the side. I sprawled out on the ground. You could see little through the fog, but that should've been enough to see the attackers. I stood off and brushed my self off. I had almost taken another step when something, or somebody, slammed into me again. I fell to the ground again but nobody was in sight. I pulled out my sword and began to run. If they ran into me again, I'd try to slice them. I hear haughty laughter in the distance. They see me, I know it. Suddenly, my sword was taken from my hand and it skimmed the top of my head, slicing off some of my brown curls. Then something hit me again in the front. I lay on my back for a moment and sat up, sensing a presence in front of me. I took a swing and hit something hard but heard no sounds of injury. I stood up and placed my hand forward, feeling the hard oak tree wood in my grasp. A sigh of relief left my lips. I felt around for the handle. As soon as I grabbed it, I pushed opened the entranceway. I got in and slammed the door shut. This was just one of our large barriers. I rubbed my eyes to adjust to the lit torches. There was no fog in here. "Halt!" Said a figure who I could recognize anywhere. "Who goes there?" "It is just me, Dalton," I said with ease. I shrugged off my robe and held it in my bleeding arms. "I would like to go to the Healing Quarters." A flash of anger flitted across Dalton's eyes. "They attacked you again, didn't they?" I nodded. He paced angrily. "They just want to get us weaker so they can take over our camp and steal our allies! They want to abduct are recruits and take them as our own!" I nodded again, agreeing. "And these ones were quite powerful." He grunted angrily and opened up the gate to a torch-lit pathway. I walked across, glancing and the mucky waters to my right and left. Finally, land came to both sides and with it came buildings. I passed the barracks and the stables, dodging some fencing recruits along the way. Finally I reached the Healing Quarters. I pushed the curtain to the side and stepped in only to see nobody here. "Gillian?" I said loudly. Out of another entranceway stepped the aging woman. Her graying hair was tight back in a tight bun. Her skin was rough like leather. Her eyes were droopy, but happy, and her glasses crooked. "Yes, Jarrell?" She said, eyeing me. "I was attacked," I said. "Outside of camp." She clicked her tongue in dismay. Then Gillian touched one of my cuts. I tensed up a little, then relaxed. "I'll fix these right up." She replied, heading for a cabinet. Opening it, she took out a long bandage and a cloth. She set the bandage on the table and dabbed at my wounds. Once all of the blood was soaked up, she wrapped the bandage around it. During which she talked about our enemies: The Revolutioners. The Revolutioners is a clan made up of only French warriors and a few medical assistants. It is like ours, but ours is made up of only English men and women. Our biggest worry is their leader, Chief Maurice Antonia. He is very strong and knows how to train his warriors. He is known to have 4 sons and 1 daughter, each with a different mother. He married women of different cultures to try and bring us together. But for our culture, he married our princess and she left us. Then she died on his land. For that reason, we are enemies. "There, all done." Said the lady as she patted my wrapped up arm. I went to the exit but turned around. "Gillian?" I asked. She looked at me and I continued. "How long ago had Princess Marlene died?" She eyed me suspiciously and thought. "I'd have to say almost 14 years." I swallowed. "Is it possible she had a child before she died?" I asked while looking at the ground. She pondered my question. "I believe so." "So wouldn't she be a part of our clan, then?" "If she is here on her 14th birthday, she will only be a part of this clan and become a princess because of her royal background." She looked me up and down. "What made you bring that up, Jarrell?" "Oh," I replied. "No reason." But the real reason was, by far, much more interesting than that.