"The Ice Princess of Asken´roth" by Dragomir Cristian Madalin

Many millennia ago the Daemon Lord Saroth came forth to this world with the thought of conquering it. Despite his overwhelming power he found out that the creatures of this planet weren’t an easy kill, no… not even for him. And thus in his anger and desperation he turned eyes to the newly born princess of the elfin kingdom.

After killing a human king that was invited to this party Saroth quickly changed into him by means of magic and went to the first birthday party of the new born princess. At the party he was undistinguished from the real king in both voice and behavior and so with this he got close to the King and Queen of the elves and so to the princess. As he stood on top of her he smirked evilly and with one word of magic he made the elf guard of the princess stab him in the heart. His blood gushed over the princess as she cried innocently not knowing what was going on. All those present were shocked by this act and before they knew it, elves were killing orcs, humans were killing elves and all were killing each other leaving only a few survivors of each race to live to tell the awkward, twisted story that Saroth implanted in their minds. The king and the princess were the sole survivors of the elves.

The next day each race declared war to all others except the king. Being an elf by race he was strong against magic and being far older than all other kings he was much wiser and resistant to mind games and so he set forth command to the elves to retreat in the north part of their kingdom: the plains of Asken’roth.

During this great time of migration Saroth watched all races fighting with each other, but still his anger was not satiated as the race on which he wished the greatest harm was the most calm and gentle.

“Why are these… creatures running instead of fighting each other with hate and anger? Why are these creatures calm instead of mad of the atrocious act committed at the one in a thousand years born princess?”

Thinking this his anger grew stronger and hate burned deeper and so again he took form of a human for a hundred years to pass and went like that from city to city, land to land, race to race and spread rumors of carnage and evil of the other races. Like this during a hundred years of lies they all grew strong on hate and started the No End War as it was called by the races. But still the elves were calm…

During those one hundred years the elves guarded heavily their borders each time the others would attack and kept the plains of Asken’roth peaceful and lushfull. These were the times of the princess childhood.

Although the elves reach adulthood at the age of 20 like the all the other races, this princess did not. By the time she was 20 she wasn’t bigger then a 10 year old child. By the time she was 100 she looked like a young girl in her age of 18. And at this point the turning of ages took place. At this point the legend of the Ice Queen was created.

Saroth, dressing up as an elf he created a point blank in the defenses of the elves which allowed the other races to destroy this wall and step forward into conquering this land.

In this day when the princess of the elves reached the age of a hundred years, the hordes of orcs and humans broke loose in the last standing city of the elves and again the carnage of a hundred years ago repeated itself.

Orcs, humans and elves killed each other without the least consent and thought of their surroundings. The blood spread and stained the beautiful and peaceful plains of Asken’roth in front of the princess’s eyes.

Seeing the screams and pain in the air, sensing the blood on her hands and all around her she slowly began to cry. Tear after tear… drop after drop… The princess cried…

The orc Salm’an Arank seeing the princess unguarded and crying helplessly on the stained ground approached her and lifting his mighty axe he went for the killing blow…

An arrow flew by the princess’s ear, coming from her front and the orc’s hand was split in half. As the orc screamed in pain, the human Silar of Marcus who sent the arrow flying dashed behind him and jumped over him with a knife in his hand going for the kill of the young elf girl. The princess was speechless…

The arrow which almost hit the elfin princess stopped in the sword of the elfin knight Asmundos O’ran thus catching his attention of the grave danger she was in.

As the human jumped, the elfin knight jumped forward with his spear trying to kill the human and protecting the princess. At that moment, in that time the legend was created. The event of the Cry was triggered.

The princess seeing blood and weapons, hate and anger fly all over her she let out a scream of pain. Such a powerful and sad sound that made all those who heard it start crying. The Cry was the moment when all the races for the first time in a hundred years put down their weapons in the presence of each other.

The princess’s cry was so powerful that it is said that the Daemon Lord Saroth who stood there watching these creatures fight each other in the form of the old man started to cry, shedding tears of blood.

As the echoes of her cry shrouded the entire chain of the Asken’roth. The sky suffered, the ground shuddered and the races fell on their hands and knees from the pain of that cry. Many brave warriors and fighters unable to resist the cry fled towards the borders of Asken'roth.

The princess cried and her tears of sorrow flowed on the ground. The king who watched in pain tried to approach her to make her stop but to no avail. He stood powerless in front of her sorrow... and her tears continued to flow.

The daemon Saroth couldn't handle anymore her cries and fled back to his world.
The cries continued for one day and two nights when all those who could hear her cries already fled to neighboring countries. The king who stood near the princess this hole time went deaf and sensing his and the princess life slip away he pleaded the Gods so that in exchange for his immortality and life altogether to stop her cries and spare her life. The Gods answered and the king's body fell on the ground without a drop of life in it.

The cry stopped and the tears of her sadness started to freeze up. The ice grew around her and the time stopped... The once beautiful and lushfull kingdom of the elves, always filled with greens and life now stood as a kingdom of lifeless frozen wasteland... The princess laid asleep at the heart of this kingdom where once the might capital of the elves stood.

Time passed and the stories of this kingdom begun to spread. The once brave warriors who fought in this war now trembled in fear telling exagerated tales of this land.

A thousand years have passed since then. The daemon Saroth was never heard of since then and the once devastated kingdoms of the elves, orcs and humans were reborn. Since then no war started no anger between the three was fueled again and the lands of Asken'roth remained a barren fronzen waste. Home only to the warrior trials of the three races...

And here at the border pf this land our story starts... The tale of the mighty queen of Asken'roth. But we will not travel to when the time of her coronation but the time of her rebirth... The age of the one hundred daggers.

Here and now in this age a boy was born. He was neighter human nor orc nor elf. He was half human... and half unknown...

'Young Zoran now you shall head into the plains of Asken'roth and make a name for yourself by surviving its wastes for three days and three nights. Travel there and put your name on the rock of GORN!'

'Auu!!!'

Screamed the trainees.

'Now you. Zorian... hm. For you the headmaster prepared another trial.'

'What do you means master?'

Asked the hooded initiate. Among the young warriors there he was the only one wearing a leather hood. But even with it you could see his sharp teeth, white hair and red eyes... The eyes of the daemon as many said. Some old folks even believed that he is the anciant daemon Saroth. But his teacher never believed in such crazy talk and always considered him as his own son, unfortunately the headmaster was of another opinion and was always against his training as a warrior, always making his trials as impossible as possible. Now another one came...

'Zorian, your trial is to go where the princess of the elves cried and mark your name in the ground where her feet stood. If you come back without dooing so... you will not receive your sword!'

'Master...'

'I know Zorian, I know...'

The young initiate looked down in the ground and after a moment of balancing his thoughts he answered the way of his heart.

'I shall go master and carve my name in the rock where the princess once stood!'

The look on the initiate face was that of a serios man who's fate was already decided... but even so refused deep down in his heart to surrender to the ods. He bowed politly to his master the turned around and headed for the barracks.

All the other initiates watched him dumbfounded while his master cast a short smile. His master knew that whatever he may have told him the young man already had his mind decided. Only the gods themselves could make him to reconsider.

The next day, with his backpack on his shoulders, the young man started his long journey into the plains of Asken'roth. His master watched him proudly as his shadow moved towards the sun.