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Author's note:

I wrote this for an 8th grade writing assignment.

Author's note:

I wrote this for an 8th grade writing assignment.

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Armita Isle



Beldrons: Abridged

Many historians believe that back when the world was new, and the continent of Falstan was just beginning to develop, there were not many forms of life. However, unknown by most, there was group of a beings known as Beldron, a peaceful sort, never going near the savage early-stage creatures of the ancient past. These Beldron were almost man, and yet not.
They had the appendages of man, yet they were dark of skin, with hair the color of their flesh always. They were hairier than a man, and had long, thin nails, with long, fat ears. When a Beldron was first born, they looked more like a furry infant than anything else, but as they grew older they grew short, thin tails, and lost some of their hair. Hunched over, the Beldron were not a fast race, but speed was not a necessary part of their lives, and being slow did not negatively affect them. They had peaceful lives, until that day.     

Armita Isle
Thousands of years ago, there was a race known as the Beldrons. They lived on a small remote country called Armita Isle. They were some of the only being on the planet. These other creatures were of great interest to the information-obsessed Beldrons. They would rarely leave their island, but would use rituals to summon primals, and study them and how they worked.
For many years, the Beldrons lived in peace, untouched by the rest of the developing world. Until one day, when they summoned a new creature, one they had never seen before. This creature was called a Sevtos, and it, according to the Elders judgements, was almost 300 years old. They had never seen anything like this before. Since Beldron’s typically lived for only 40 to 50 years, this creature gave them a whole new point of view.
Almost immediately, researchers tried to figure out what made the Sevtos live so long. They finally realized that the reason why the Sevtos lived so long was because they drew energy from magic crystals that grew on their large shells. The Elders figured that if they took enough energy from these crystals, and put them into scroll, they could channel the energy and perform a ritual that would, hopefully, make them immortal.
Crystal hunting became the new favorite activity of the Beldrons, and after a few months, they had almost the necessary materials needed to perform the ritual, except for one.


“This is not how I expected my day to go...”

Elder Scribe Richter had simply wished to stay in bed and ignore all that “Immortality” rubbish. Ah, but no, he had to be woken up by a one of those darned scribe birds.
“Sorry sir, but this is important, Elder Kast wishes to see you at once!” squawked the feathery pillow of irritation. 
Beldron like him did not like to awoken in the morning, especially not by loud screeching from an avian annoyance.
“Fine, tell him I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” grumbled the tired Historian.
The scribe bird nodded, and flew out the window to the main Island’s Mage Temple. The Historian spent the next 20 minutes doing a morning routine, in no particular hurry. As he made his way out of his cabin, he grabbed a walking stick made of Ivory.
As he left his home, he thought about how he as going to miss breakfast, and how much that was going to screw up his inner schedule. After a few minutes, he arrived at the bridge to the main island. The Historian lived on small separate island, only an acre and half big, and was connecting to the main, much larger island by a small, wooden bridge.
I really have to fix this thing, thought Richter. Ah, but if I asked the other elders, they would probably just make up an excuse for how it “wouldn’t benefit the island,” or something ridiculous like that. 
Eventually, the Elder Scribe arrived at the temple, and stood before his fellow Elders.
“Ah, hello, Elder Richter, good to see you have finally decided to join us.” scoffed Elder Kast, as the other members smirked along with him.
“Apologies, but I’ve had a bit of trouble with my leg again.” said Richter.
“Now, what have you called me here for?”
The other 11 Elders motioned for him to come forth, towards a small pedestal. On it was a bundle of ornate cloth. As Elder Scribe Richter walked forwards, Elder Kast stopped him and said “We have a job for you, if you are willing to do it.”
Richter, with his skeptical nature, questioned the others. “Why can’t one of the lower scribes do it?”
“Because, we know you’ve wanted to go out and get this material for a long time.” said Elder Kast. “As you know, we are almost done with preparations for the ritual, we have all the crystals and power we need, we have all the mages we need, there is just one more necessary component.”
“And what might that last component be, hmm?” asked Elder Richter.
“Qash Wood.” said Elder Kast.

Oh dear. 
Qash Wood

Qash trees are a native fauna on Armita Isle whose wood produces a certain aura that channels energy into a specific object. The problem with Qash wood is that it’s tree makes it almost impossible to get. The water will poison you if you drink it. When it rains, it produces a gas that can kill those who are in it. It’s fruits cause extreme allergic reactions to most, and it has plenty of terrible insects living it its trunk.
There were three necessary ingredients for the immortality ritual. The Sevtos Crystals, 12 people, and special Qash wood to inscribe the words upon. They had the first 2 parts, but were lacking the third.
“Of course they had to pick me to do this.” grumbled Richter, as he made his way to the Qash tree in the nearby forest.
“They had to make the Elder Scribe, and one the most important people on the Isle do it, just because of that ritual.” thought the Historian.
He arrived at the tree a few hours later, and, with gloves and a protective magical mask on, he stripped the tree of its back. He was interrupted, however, by a buzzing.
He noticed a large flying insect, which normally wouldn’t be a bad thing for him, however, this was noticeably more dangerous encounter, specifically because this was a Hawmor, a extremely dangerous bug, known for its poison stingers. 
Richter carefully removed the wood and slowly slid it into his bag, and quietly scooted back. Richter realized he was in bad situation, and he had to either run or fight it. Unfortunately, another well known trait for the Hawmor was its speed, and Beldron were very quick. That only left one option.
He raised his Ivory walking stick and readied himself. The Hawmor buzzed toward him, and WHACK, the Hawmor went tumbling to ground.
“Good riddance.” growled Richter.
He returned to the mages temple after an hour, and gathered the other 11 elders.
“Ah, he returns, I assume with the Qash Wood?” said Elder Kast, as he made his way to the altar.
“Yes.” responded Elder Richter. The other Elders took the bark from Elder Scribe Richter.
“I want you all to know I’m not going to do this ceremony with, I want no part of it.” said Richter.
“Yes, we know, we’ve got a replacement set up.” said Elder Kast. “You may leave if you wish.”
Richter bid goodbye to the other Elders, and started to make his way back home. It was almost noon, and he hadn’t eaten anything. He eventually got back to his little bridge. As he made his way across, he looked back at the mages temple and saw flashing lights and chanting.
“It seems they’ve starte-” but he did not finish, as the bridge split beneath him.
He didn’t know how to swim.
Normally, the water surrounding Armita Isle was quite cold, it being a southern oriented land mass. Luckily, however, it had been a warm spring, so it was not the cold that affected Richter the most. It was the impact. He felt as if his spine was shattered, even though he knew it was not.
All of this was quite nasty, but the worst part was that he, having fell from almost twenty feet up, landed rather deep into the water. Also, to make things worse, he didn’t know how to remove himself from this situation.
Beldrons never really had the need to learn to swim. Since they never left their island, they never bothered. This usually wasn’t a problem, but it was now.
Richter sunk rather far down, thrashing about, trying to get up, however, he only made things worse.
He was just about to give up hope, when he heard a faint noise. The noise got louder and louder, until it was right in his ears. He then saw a arc of golden light slicing through the sea towards him.
The arc eventually reached him, and just as he thought it was the end, the arc slammed into him.
He was sent flying upwards, quickly rising towards the surface. He broke level with the sea level, and was flung into the air many feet.
Richter flipped once he reached the top, noticing he was now right over his house. He began falling down at a great speed.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” screamed the Historian as he thundered down to the ground.
40 feet. He had wished he had written more.
30 feet. He should have learned more about the Sevtos.
20 feet. This isn’t how he had wished to die.
10 feet. He hadn’t even eaten today.
Some people that believe in an afterlife think that it is a black void. Empty. Nothing. But for Elder Scribe Richter, while it was empty and black, it did have one discerning feature. The smell of salt. This fact was probably what made Richter realize that he was in fact, NOT dead.
Richter opened his eyes to see that he was next to his house, and that the sun was almost set. He then realized that what had just happened should have killed him, yet did not.
He stood up and dusted himself off. He turned around to look at the mages temple. He remembered that golden arc. He carefully climbed down the rock of his side, and jumped over the smallest distance between his island and Armita. He eventually arrived at the altar to find...
  Oh gods.


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