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The Death of an Age, CHAPTER 27- ALL THINGS MUST END
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 9:06 am    Post subject: The Death of an Age, CHAPTER 27- ALL THINGS MUST END Reply with quote

The Story So Far...


Forenius is the lone survivor of a failed crusade against the lands of the wicked demi-goddess Lady d’Grorathia. He is captured after a ferocious skirmish with her troll shock troops.

Defeated, he approached by her and nearly seduced in his cell. She attempts to seduce him, but instead offers him command of her armies in return for a simple favor: he must slay her current general, Lord Jeryon and his minion the alchemist Alestro.

He soon discovers that Jeryon is in fact the world’s oldest living grey dragon but with all that age and power also comes the curse of blindness. He slays the servant, disposing of the beast’s guide and then kills it too, tearing down a large section of the Lady’s castle in the process.

The hero awakens in a well furnished room, where once again, the temptress offers herself to him and Forenius almost succumbs to her whiles but at the last second is granted a vision from the gods as to her true plan. Knowing that her purpose is to murder millions to impress her father, the god of murder and plague and to gain divinity for herself while leaving a mortal progeny behind spawned by no other than he, the paladin seizes a rapier from the mantel and stabs her, but to no effect.

In horror, he flees, escaping the fortress and heading out for his homeland. He is forced to stop for a short time in an eerily abandoned city, which ages before was single handedly wiped out by a vampire known as Damek.

The knight is preparing for his last stand and heroic battle with the forces of evil when he discovers both a suit of pristine golden armor and a magical portal. He leaps through the teleporter and is promptly back in his homeland, but is arrested on the spot and thrown into prison as a traitor.

The Lady and her host arrive not long after, their ruckus awakening the sleeping vampire, who forms an unholy alliance with her, but making it clear that he will not hesitate to kill her if necessary. Forenius begins to come back around in his cell, forming a bond with his cellmate, a half elf bounty hunter known as Larson.

Escaping from the prison, the duo head right back in to gather their belongings after they discover that the enemy legions are in the city, unaware that they are entering the vampire’s den. They slay massive numbers of ghouls on their way to the armory, where all their gear is currently locked up at.

Finally reaching the armory, they are offered the services of a barbarian named Cynyr the Devout and his enchanted hammer, Thunderer, which he claims speaks to him. They politely decline.

Not long after they don their armor gather their supplies, they are attacked by Damek. During the struggle, the undead villain bites Larson, but is stopped when is struck by Cynyr’s hammer, who returned to help them. He is promptly killed with a fist through the brain.

As the nosferatu is distracted with this, Forenius is spoken to by Thunderer, and seizing the moment, strikes Damek full force with the magical mallet. Defeated, the vampire vanishes in a cloud of bats.

Larson has only three days before he becomes undead but luckily, Forenius knows of two men who were working on a cure for the disease. One is a mage in a small hamlet outside the war torn city and the other is a priest hiding somewhere within.

Making his way to the hamlet, Forenius seeks out the mage, but is confronted by a bandit army. Slaying their leader, he claims authority over the horde.

Once he has arrived within the town, he conscripts every man of fighting age and bashes in the door of the mage's home, only to find him dead. After a vicious battle with the murderer, he discovers it to be an evil version of himself.

Larson arises from his coma around this time and discovers, much to his own discomfort, that Forenius's beautiful twin sister Valonia has taken more than a little liking to him.

A troll in the army of the Lady named Jad- Bal- Rhun plots revolution and has a brush with the mysterious Trickster, a servant of the Lady's godly father, and the Forenius's evil doppelganger.

A subtle romance begins to blossom between Larson and Valonia, Forenius's twin sister, much to the paladin's chagrin. He, in spite of his anger, cures his friend of vampirism just as the emperor arrives upon his doorstep with news of a peace treaty with the dark army, on the condition that the paladin will marry the Lady.

In a fit of rage, Forenius murders the king and proclaims himself the ruler, as he is next in line to the throne. The god of murder and plague calls the Great Hunt, whom he places the Trickster in charge of.

Forenius orders the murder of the entire merchant class in an attempt at unifying his kingdom, much to the shock of his childhood friend Vitellus, who is master at arms of the king's bodyguard.

Jad-Bal-Rhun is captured by some of Damek's ghouls and thrown at the feet of the Lady, and the fate of he and his revolt hang in the balance as she considers her response to his schemes.

Jad is sent to the mysterious Catacombs for experimentation at the hands of a malevolent spirit known as Josephus. Larson and Valonia share their first kiss, but it is observed by Vitellus. Worried, this lone knight rides out to the countryside to clear his mind and think.

Under the weight of the past weeks, Vitellus's mind snaps and he is driven mad. The Trickster takes advantage of this oppurtunity and enlists his aid. Larson informs Forenius of an ancient Elven prophecy that seems to be fulfilling itself. Lady d'Grorathia assassinates Damek with the intention of stealing his powers for her own.

Larson is sent as envoy to the Elven nations to discover more of an ancient prophecy in great secrecy. Valonia is not told and worry weighs heavily upon her mind, even more so when she discovers that she is with child.

She tells Forenius of this and although he asks for time to gather his thoughts, he is interupted by Vitellus, who warns him of a plot against his life. The general leads him away, escorted by a small contingent of the royal guard into the moors, where they are attacked by the Trickster and his infinte legions of hellhounds.

A ferocious battle ensues, during which Vitellus is mortally wounded and the Trickster looses an arm. The Trickster seeks out his sister for aid and Forenius runs to his friend, not knowing of Vitellus's betrayal. With his dying breath, the traitor rams a dagger into Forenius's back, killing him.

A captain in Forenius's bodyguard and one of the skirmish's few survivors, Anaxandrias is a prior mercenary without a homeland. The King had shown him kindness and respected him, granting him this high postion. It is he who discovers Forenius's body. For what he sees as the good of the kingdom, he invents a story in which the Emperor names him regent in his dying breath. The rest of the guard accept the story and the foreigner assumes power.


....................................................

Intro- Disaster

The expedition had failed. The crusade was a disaster. Dead men lay in awkward postions, arms and legs twisted at the most heinous of angles. Forenius lay pinned beneath his war horse, the armor adding almost an extra hundred pounds. In the start, he attempted to avoid the attention of the trolls that moved from corpse to corpse, removing their heads and then adding them to the mounting tower in the center of the blood-soaked battlefield. But as the situation became more and more helpless, he began to struggle to free himself from beneath the great brown beast. The trolls drew closer, dragging great obsidian axes behind them as they hacked a crimson path through both survivor and cadaver.

Forenius rammed his longsword deep into the enriched earth and began to pry himself from beneath the priceless steed, using the ancient heirloom of a blade as a lever. The steel began to contort and bend as he was gradually towed from beneath the massive hunk of meat he had once cherished above all things. The trolls were closer, so now as to accomodate his view of the horrid creatures. Their yellow eyes glowed in the dusk, hovering above wicked hooked noses plagued with warts and oozing sores and mouths that did nothing to conceal great rotten brown fangs and tusks, pieces of raw meat and carrion still clinging to them.

The sword snapped cleanly in two with a loud twang, half of it hurtling off at incredible speeds and the other staying firmly gripped in the hand of the fallen warrior, but not before it had done it's assigned labor. The trolls, being barely sentient, but by no means braindead, heard this echo across the empty valley and turned to the source. Forenius, clearly shaken, rushed to his feet as best he could with the encumberance of the armor. As he did so, he so happened to glance upon the body of one of his fallen comrades. The armor was a shelter for a fool. Against other humans, it was effective to a shocking degree, but when employed against trolls, it was simply suicide. It prohibited any real mobility, which was usually but a small sacrifice as compared to the fact that to most weapons, it was invincible. But this was not so. The troll axes sliced through it like a hot knife thru butter.

He unbuckled his breastplate and let it tumble into the puddle of mixed blood, mud, and waste at his feet. He began to disassemble the entire suit as the monsters drew closer. By the time they were fifteen feet away, the entire steel enclosure, handed down thru four generations of his family, lay upon the field, sinking gradually deeper into the soiled land. He cast aside the remnant of the blade, forged ages ago by a hero king far back in his line. He plucked up a massive troll axe from the field and hefted it in one hand, getting a feel for the weapon as the enemy approached.

It was painfully obvious that on this field, in this war, there was no room for tradition, nobility, nor even chivalry. This was a new war and what it needed was new heroes.
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 9:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

sounds to me like he's about to be slaughter or captured by the trolls at the very least - there's two of them and they are used to using there weapons - they'll have greater experience with them
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 11:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Its a good story. One thing though. You constantly made a mistake in spelling through. It's through not thru.

Anyway I think he will be captured by the trolls. He is outnumbered and has no weapon.
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 4:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

he does have a weapon, he picked up one of the troll's axes
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 5:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Is running away an option? A new kind of hero needs to live to fight another day!

Welcome to IF Mr Mented! Nice to see a new poster! One fairly standard comment first: Try and leave a line between paragraphs, it makes it easier to read.

You may also leave the chapter up for a while to gather comments before putting up a poll. Sometimes these twisted readers think of things you haven't. That way you can add more options to your poll when you do do it.

Anyway. Voted! Look forward to more. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 22, 2006 8:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think we should let him be captured myself ... that way we can learn more about the trolls camp and erm .. well the big green ugly blighters themselves. That might be a good place to throw another character into the mix to ... and make her female. Well just an idea. Smile
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 3:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good start. I don't think he's got a chance against the trolls, though. Get him captured for now. Then we'll see what chapter 2 brings Smile
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 5:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey Jack,

I agree that he has no hope against the trolls, unless he's some awesome fighter.

With no other options I've voted for him to be captured.

Happy Writing. Smile
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 5:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yo Jack, are you sure your not some inborn professional artist like Key and Smee are? Dude your stories are tight man. Look forward to readin the next chapter.

Oh here's my suggestion. Take some of those Trolls to Hell with you!
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 6:05 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nice new avatar there Jack!
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 6:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yeah, your Venom is sweet.
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 6:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks. For that, you both earn goblins... Very Happy Very Happy
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PostPosted: Mon Jan 23, 2006 11:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
not some inborn professional artist like Key and Smee are


You're kidding right Shocked I can't draw to save my life.
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 2:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, guys, I'm getting a little impatient to continue my epic saga of blood, guts, and glory. So, I think that I'm going to give the poll about another three days or so.
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 4:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You already have 7 votes, that's a lot already! Plus, you've given three or so days, write the chapter!
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 4:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Daaamn, boy... you just wanta see some troll heads roll, huh? Ok, I agree. Screw the poll. Time for the next installment.
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 4:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

WOOHOO! And about the boy, don't call me boy, my older cousins call me that and I have grown to hate it! Very Happy !

Yes I do want to see troll heads roll! Blood and gore! *licks lips appreciatively*. Anybody seen Scarface? Anyways, how old are you?
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

WARNING- VIOLENCE AND ADULT SITUATIONS


Chapter 1- Duality

Standing there, abandoned, it struck Forenius for the first time how alone he was here. There would be no shelter, no quarter, no mercy. There was only one way to respond to the vile abominations advancing steadily forward.

It was in his hand. It was the solution to the troll problem. It was a blood-soaked obsidian axe of massive proportions. At normal strength, he would have weilded the death dealing device with but one arm with ease, but now, already, he was battle ready and tired. It would take both hands.

One of the trolls grinned and acidic bile dripped from within its wicked mouth and onto the saturated field with an audible hiss. A low guttural laugh issued forth.

Forenius couldn't help himself. It was absurd. It was amusing. He crooked a smile and began to laugh in turn. His, however, would have been recognized by any holy man in existence for what it was- either the hoot of a complete madman or the ranting of one possessed.

The first monstrosity closed to within reach and began to slowly raise its well-toned arm to render the smiting blow upon the human. He was still laughing, unanticipating the extra mobility and speed that the lack of armor afforded his prey.

Forenius leapt in a blur of motion, taking but one swift stroke with his cruel instrument. It struck him as odd that the idiot creature still had a smile on its hideous face when its torso slid from its hips and collapsed in the grass with a disgustingly moist sound. The legs still stood for a second before finally tumbling over.

Its companion screamed and pulled at its long, stringy almost dreadlocked hair in response, hysterical at what had just occured. The gorgon quickly transitioned into rage, yelling at the top of its lungs and spraying spittle as it charged forward in a maniacal charge.

The knight had seen this sort of rage before. He knew that it would be unwise to let the galloping enemy draw closer than absolutely necessary. He turned at an angle, balancing the gigantic axe behind him. Then he waited.

Just a few more steps...

And now! He heaved the weapon with all the strengh that his body could muster. The mighty weapon tumbled, twisted, turned, and finally, struck its mark with the blade, cleaving the crazed opponent's head cleanly in two.

The body continued onward a few steps, then abruptly stumbled, halted and slumped to the ground.

The spectacle had drawn attention from others. More trolls approached. Seeing this, Forenius fetched two longswords from his fallen friends. Taking one in each hand, he prepared for the inevitable.

He was wading in a legion of monsters, hacking and slashing, blood spraying everywhere, arms, legs, and heads flying. The sound was defeaning what with the harsh warcries of the trolls, the constant screams of Forenius in his berserker rage, and the pitiful sobbing cries of the dead from both battles, one waged by two armies, and the next fought by but a singular soldier against too many to count.

At one point his blade snapped from overuse. Forenius discarded of the useless hilt and shattered remnant by ramming it deep into the eyesocket of one of his many foes and twisting with all his might. The other he jammed so far into the chest of one unfortunate that he was unable to withdraw it.

And so he was down to his fists and teeth. He used them for some time to great affect (in later times, he would claim that the taste of troll flesh never truly left him). The knight knew this was a hopeless endeavor and that, at best, he would end up as dinner for some uncouth savage that spoke in grunts and slept in excrement.

Then, suddenly, he noticed, that as if afraid, the craven giants were withdrawing from him, almost as if in fear. It was too good to be true. He thought that perhaps he had won, maybe even carried the day and redeemed the mad ambitions of his king on some level...

And the lightning struck. A white bolt landed solidly in his kidneys and carried him at least three hundred feet, whereupon he flipped and tossed until he rolled over the side of a hill and down into a gully. After that came darkness...

When he awoke, he was imprisoned in a crude cage with bars constructed of chiseled dragon bone, knee deep in only the gods knew what. It smelled horrible. He dry heaved a few times before sitting up, which set his whole body aflame with searing pain and turned his vision red.

It was then he noticed perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. She was lovely, with gleaming green eyes much like a cat's, ruby lips that pouted and could easily make any man weak in the knees, and long flowing crimson hair that shined. She was clothed in fine silk robes, sitting on a bench across from him.

"My lady, why, pray tell, would you be here, in such a dreadful place when your manners and divine features surely speak of better?" He asked as he bowed, being a firm believer that courtly manners applied even when surrounded by barbarians. The simple motion almost caused him to black out for a second. He gritted his teeth, determined to not show weakness in front of such a lovely creature.

She giggled. "Oh, me? I just own the place. And you are my guest, my lord."

"What? Do you mean to say that somehow you command this... this plague upon the lands?"

Her expression soured. She extended a slight finger toward the warrior and he instantly suffered from a lack of breath, choking.

"This is not a plague. This is the future. These are my children and I will lead them into immortality. I am the Lady d'Grorathia and my lineage comes directly from the gods."

She manuevered closer, floating above the filth, until she was close enough to the helpless man to where he could feel her aura of darkness as if it were a tangible prescene. But at the same time, he could smell her and her delicious fragrance, blessed with only the best perfumes in the land. It was contrast, pure and simple. He was repulsed on one level, yet overtaken with lust on another.

"I can kill a million men and have not a problem sleeping. That was proven today. But you are... special. You are different. So, for now, you live... until I tire of you."

And then she kissed him, passionately, madly in a way that made him both retch on the inside and his blood boil with desire. It was over in an instant, all at once he had just had the most terrible and most beautiful moments of his life. She smiled coquettishly and vaporized into thin air.

She left him with some parting words.

"I see you for what you are, Forenius. And make no mistake, you are mine until death. How long that it is until that time is up to you."
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, first to read and first to post!
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

K, is this a linear chapter or are you going to put up choises later?
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oh, choices, you know it. Mainly about what choices that the dark misstress intends to offer him.
SCARFACE IS THE MAN! TONY MONTANA, THE WORLD IS YOURS!
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Interesting indeed. And yes, you need a d-point!

Keep it coming...
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Shocked

Uh..yeah...I'm not that much of a Scarface fan *quickly hides all Scarface posters and anniversery DVD's as he says this*

What do you mean what she has to offer him... Shocked ...wow, I know what chinaren's going to vote for. Cool
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 5:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm thinking along the lines of her general and lover, her gladiator and slave, or just plain troll food. Any ideas?
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 8:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

i think he should choose the first option then
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 8:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Maybe she needs him to do a certain mission for her. Otherwise I am for the General and Lover option. Seems like the only way to go.
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 10:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Translation:LOVER!LOVER!

lol, I'm kiddin' Chinaren.

I vote the first one, the General part sounds cool!
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 24, 2006 11:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good chapter, although I found the fight scene a little unbelievable. One tired man with someone else's weapon, against an army of trolls - and it takes a stray bolt of lightning to bring him down? Hmm... I don't think we have the same type of trolls in mind, mate Very Happy

Decision point: If you're going to include magic, how about Forenius having the potential to be a great magic-wielder, and the evil woman wants to leech off him to make her magic stronger?

If nothing else, it's another poll option Smile

Keep it coming, you've got good atmosphere here... Cool
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 25, 2006 4:28 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Did we actually vote to fight - I thought run away was winning? Confused

Anyway she doesn't seem to have General and Lover in mind. He's caged, and hardly just about to leap up and lead her armies in battle against his own people.

At best I think slave for now, unless Stoat's idea about the magic is feasible.

Happy Writing. Smile
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 25, 2006 5:57 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

'ted.
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 25, 2006 8:54 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

there was no option to run smee - it was either kill the trolls or be captured
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 25, 2006 1:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow, a tie so far... somebody needs to break it. Preferably several somebodies voting in the same direction. That would be good. A healthy strong lead.
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 25, 2006 4:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

If no one breaks the tie then vote yourself and do it. Quite allowable in this situation.
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 28, 2006 9:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok- Chapter 2 then. Rock and Roll...
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 28, 2006 10:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 2 - Decision

The next morning, the alluring temptress awaited the warrior once again. And once more, Forenius rendered her the appropriate courtly greetings. She was smiling, beaming at him on this day.

"I think I have figured out what to do with you, charming," She purred seductively as the warrior listened intently, hoping that somehow it would result in him being removed from the pit that he was currently locked within.

"Well, of course, there's what I want to do with you, and what my advisor tells me should be done with you."

"A woman so beautiful and capable as thou should not be restrained by the short sightedness of adivisors," Forenius replied, thanking his father for his constant insistance upon a class in oratory in his younger years.

"Yes, the old snake is a singularly unpleasant creature. It is unfortunate that my armies are under his inept command," the lady pouted, bringing to bear all of her feminine charms.

But the soldier was no fool. He saw her for what she truly was. A reaver of the lands and a greivious threat to all life was the true nature of the seductress beneath all her silken robes, golden ornaments, and alluring perfumes. If allowed to acheive immortality or, worse yet, divinity, she would sew chaos and upend the planets themselves on nothing more than a whim.

"I find you fascinating, hero. And I know for a fact that you know so much more about the true nature of armies than that ancient one could ever discover, even if he spent yet another hundred years locked away in his library. I want you as my general..."

Forenius cocked an eyebrow as she shifted her lithe figure suggestively, enticing him and inviting his imagination down a path of sin. He did his best to hold back such thoughts. Lady d'Grorathia was his foe and sworn enemy, lest he forget.

She barely supressed her own girlish laugh as she noticed most visibly the signs of this inner struggle play across his eyes, clearly spelled out in body language. It set him ablaze with desire but he held fast.

"Yes, my general... amongst other things..." She pressed her figure against his, wrapping her arms around him. He felt her long crimson nails dance across his bare back, teasing him breifly with the thought of them digging deep and clawing. The paladin held his breath, catching himself before he could do something rash.

He could feel her hot breath on his neck as her lips inched ever closer. The knight attempted prayer. But this was fruitless, as his purity was nearly foiled when those flawless red lips pressed against the side of his throat. His pulse hammered away like a smith at a forge and his breath galloped along at a stallion's pace.

His resolve broke when she nibbled. Forenius seized the gorgeous villianess, picking her up by her hindquarters and wrapping her legs around him. He violently assaulted her lips with his own, not stopping until, laughing, she placed a creamy white hand between his face and her own.

"That will be enough for now, love," She meekly protested, green eyes flashing with the promise of things to come. Lady d'Grorathia slid from between his massive arms like a serpent and retreated to the cell door.

"Before you can take your new post, you will need to eliminate my adviser, Lord Jeryon, and his confidant, Alestro. After that, well, we can pick up where we left off..." And then she was gone.

Within an hour, two hulking trolls had provided Forenius with all that he needed. He had decent clothing and a good longsword along with a hot meal consisting of what was probably dog meat and wild rice. He found it inconceivable that he was about to commit murder for the position of general in an army that was dangerously close to pushing its way into his homeland.

Of course, it could carry with it the benefit of getting in close to the true leader of the barbariac horde and perhaps dismantling the army from within. But he also had the chance right now to escape in the form of the excellent claymore hung across his back. He began the long walk toward the study of Lord Jeryon, climbing the stairs up further into the fortress.

There was a window, outside of which hung a long banner. It would be possible to swing down into the courtyard, battle his way out, steal a mount, and flee to his country to fortify his people against the coming storm. But also was the potential of infiltration but at the price of being labeled a traitor by his homeland...
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 28, 2006 10:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Excellent work Mr. M. Simply wonderful stuff.

Leave by the window? I think not. Take up his new role with relish! Conquer!! Pillage! Destroy! And so on...
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PostPosted: Sat Jan 28, 2006 11:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

A good chapter with an excellent decision point! Very Happy

Now... I'd dearly love to say 'escape', because he needs to be as far away from this temptress as he can get. But I'm not going to.

She must know there's a chance he's bound to attempt that. She'll be waiting for him to try, as a test of his intentions towards her. He'll almost certainly never make it and, in attempting to escape, he'll lose any chance he had of bringing something good out of his capture.

Plus, let's face it, he's going to convince himself he can do more good here because he wants to spend a little more 'quality time' with the Lady.
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 29, 2006 12:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I go for the infiltration, maybe the suductress will fall in love with him... And perhaps he can keep the armies away from his own home...

I like this so far Smile

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PostPosted: Sun Jan 29, 2006 3:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

do whatever she asks - why bother running when you've got it made if you stay with her?
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 6:58 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

still waiting for the next chapter to be posted... But noone but me has voted, perhaps you can let people know there us a poll up Jack, so you can get to writing the next chapter...

I'll keep checking back...

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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 7:02 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

i never realised the poll was up - for next time making a post saying it is would be helpful
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 2:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, I'll get to the next chapter in a little bit...
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 3:08 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

yay!!!! Very Happy... I was waiting for it! :hm:

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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 5:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 3- The Dragon

Forenius stared longingly out the tower window. The sun was setting far in the distance over the swamps, turning the horizon shades of crimson, orange, and violet. How he wanted nothing more than to flee.

But that would not be. The Lady would be counting on that. There were more than likely more guards than even he could dispatch. The trolls ahd underestimated his prowess once already and the warrior was certain that they, although stupid, were nowhere dull enough to make the same assumption twice. He turned from the view before him as at the same time he felt that he was turning his back on his people.

Traitor.

That was what the voice in his head screamed like a maniac. No matter how rationally he argued that by the current path he could garner yet more of a strategic advantage, it would not be silent. It began to gnaw at his nerves, tear at his sanity, pluck at the strings of his patriotic soul.

It was almost unbearable, but still he pressed on. He weaved his way through twisted corridors, darkened passages, and wiggled under a narrow crawlspace. Finally, he reached the library of his foe, the true enemy, the rover of borders and most of all, the great strategist whose genius had laid behind the massacre of his countrymen at the Plains of Pretachus. It was time for some wrath of the Almighty.

Although it had begun as a complete failure, Forenius still held complete faith that his god was behind him in this crusade. The disaster was not due to the lack of caring by some cosmic deity, instead by the blind ambition and foolhardiness of a singular man, the king of Al'Jorrideen. He had been elected commander of the combined armies, but with his inept choice of battlefield, had doomed the greatest fighting force known to man. Now, he was worm food, a head on a peg whose eyes had been plucked out long ago by the carrion birds.

With these thoughts dancing in his mind, he slowly drew the blade from behind his back as he opened the door. Almost nothing was known about the one who called himself Lord Jeryon. Except that like all things, cold steel was a sure cure for the life of evil that he had indulged.

The door slowly creaked on its ancient hinges, revealing a room with walls lined with books of all shapes, sizes, and colors covering every subject known to man, and, it was possible, a few that weren't. Weapons of immeasurable value and gems of absurd size lay scattered across the floor like trash. It was a hoard to make even the richest of kings green with envy.

In the center of the room sat an older man covered in a simple brown robe, much like that of a monk. He was bent over a dusty tome, transcribing indecipherable heiroglyphics onto a yellowed scroll with a bright blue feather pen. Not even bothering to look up, he muttered something beneath his breath which Forenius could not hear.

"Lord Jeryon, I would suppose? I pictured you as being younger, much younger..." The paladin announced as he edged his way into the room being cautious of his surroundings.

"Oh, I can see why. I am not Lord Jeryon. I am his apprentice, the alchemist Alestro. He is in reality, infinitely older than I," The hunched figure responded in manner so nonchalant that for a second, Forenius was stunned.

It distracted him just long enough to not see the massive scythed tail swipe at him from the darkness that lurked at the chamber's farthest corner. He was knocked backwards, striking the wall with great force and sliding down it, gasping for breath. His sword lay across the room. He began to scramble for his arms, but was paralyzed at the sight of the monsterous beast that emerged from the shadows.

A smile spread across the ancient lips of the elder at the desk, exposing the gaping gums in his mouth. "Behold, Lord Jeryon, master of the great Castle d'Weylanos and in addition..."

"The world's oldest living grey dragon."

A great scaled head stared down at Forenius with eyes of blue flame, glowing with hateful menace and malevolence. Cruel black lips curved upward in a confident smirk, exposing gargantuan white teeth at least the length of a grown man's arm, and a forked tongue, wet with yellowish saliva that held in a single drop enough venom to slay an entire province, that flicked rythmically in and out, tasting the flesh of the trapped warrior before it was even remotely near enough to actually make contact.

The beast stepped forward, black claws digging clawing deep into the stone floor with each movement. Forenius hectically glanced all about him, hoping for a weapon. He saw only two that he had even any remote idea of how to use. All the rest were so exotic that he knew not even by what name that they were called.

On one side of the room nearer to him, was a spear, almost ten feet long, the point glimmering with magical potency. The disadvantage was that he had less knowledge of it than he did his rather plain, standard issue longsword which lay further away. It was definitely the weapon that entailed the greater risk of obtaining, but he was much more proficient with it.
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 5:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Shocked

Didn't see that one coming!! Er, now run away and come back better prepared, if you can. Otherwise the spear looks a little too good to be true, it's probably a trap.

Nice.
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PostPosted: Tue Jan 31, 2006 11:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yeah, I like the new chapter.

How about trying to cut a deal with the dragon instead of the gorgeous temptress?

Set them against each other by telling him that you were sent to kill him, and by whom. Tell him also that now that you have seen his might, you know that you should be serving him, and that she should die like the treacherous piece of bile she is. Flatter him, grovel if you must, anything to show where your new loyalties lie.

I know it may not seem like much of an improvement... but if it works, you could end up with a dragon for a boss instead of the Lady.

At least with the dragon, you're not in constant temptation from the lust aspect. I think the Lady has a much bigger hold over you.
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PostPosted: Wed Feb 01, 2006 2:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
you're not in constant temptation from the lust aspect


You say this like it's a bad thing. Shocked

Who was it that said: "I can resist anything except temptation?" I love that, it's my motto. Well, one of them.
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PostPosted: Wed Feb 01, 2006 5:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Shady Stoat wrote:
Yeah, I like the new chapter.

How about trying to cut a deal with the dragon instead of the gorgeous temptress?

Set them against each other by telling him that you were sent to kill him, and by whom. Tell him also that now that you have seen his might, you know that you should be serving him, and that she should die like the treacherous piece of bile she is. Flatter him, grovel if you must, anything to show where your new loyalties lie.

I know it may not seem like much of an improvement... but if it works, you could end up with a dragon for a boss instead of the Lady.

At least with the dragon, you're not in constant temptation from the lust aspect. I think the Lady has a much bigger hold over you.



I still say stay with the Lady, with her you may have to deal with temptation but you can use this to your avantage and try to make her fall in love with you... With the dragon you may have to deal with an inhumane look on things... He could also not react well to any of what you say and end up eating you right away...

With the Lady there is less risk and more of a chance of turning the tides in your favor...
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 04, 2006 6:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sorry about the poll being such a jackass. I put spear on the second one, but for some weird reason, it felt like saying sword again. So, if you would, just try and imagine that the second option says "spear" instead of sword a second time.
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 04, 2006 12:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

the polls messed up that's what happened

every vote for one counts as the other
get smee to remove the poll - you'll have to post up a new one
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 1:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 4 Deception

The dragon curled his lips back, revealing serrated teeth and licked at his chops like a hungy wolf. Forenius returned the glare, intent on remaining as fearless in appearance as possible, although he was terrified on the inside. He began to edge closer to his sword, which lay a good distance from him.

In an effort to distract the wyrm's attention, he spoke, "You are truly powerful, ancient one. Mayhaps, we should consider the joining of forces, an alliance. After all, your petty demigoddess wishes you disposed..." The statement was cut off mid-syllable as the knight was forced to roll to his left in order to avoid the tail that came smashing down where he had been no more than a second before as the elderly scribe screamed something unintelligble.

This response informed him that no compromise could be reached. He steeled his resolve and flung himself toward the spear which was upon the ground not too far away. Close as it was, he was unable to reach it as the tail lashed out once again, this time smaking him out of the air like nothing more than an insect. The crusader crumpled against the wall, the wind knocked out of him.

Gasping, he was barely able to duck beneath the creul talons that dug into the surface directly above his head. Rocks and pebbles showered him as he rolled forward. The spear was within his reach now. He extended a gloved hand, fully intending to snatch up the weapon, when he instead was grasped within a gigantic palm and hurtled out the window. He broke the stained glass with almost no difficulty, the falling shards glimmering in the sunset and giving the impression that a rainbow was raining down from the heavens.

The trolls, slavering in the courtyard almost two hundred feet below, looked upwards to see the swordsman catch an out hanging banner in his flailing hands and swing directly back into the study.

Forenius hit the floor in a tumble, arms and legs flying as he shot arcoss the rough stone surface, landing close to the magical lance. He noticed the placid, uncaring form of the giant lizard and the sharp contrast of the look of stunned surprise on the face of his servant. For a second, he was confused, but the situation was clearified when the old man began to scream and shout and the dragon's face skewered in a mask of instense rage.

Without any thought on the matter, he plucked the weapon from its place upon the floor and hurtled it across the room. The sharp blade at the point tore through the savant's robes. His eyes bulged in surprise and he staggered back, bumping into the massive bookshelf behind him, causing it to collapse and fall upon him with the sound of bones crunching. Lord Jeryon began to toss his massive scaled head about every which way, seeking his victim in confusion.

So I was right! The fiend is blind. He may be have the power that comes with his age, but he also bears one of its worst curses, Forenius thought. He ran and ran to his blade, retreiving his weapon.

"Helpless without your servant, Lord Jeryon? Does the situation change without your slave screaming out my postion at every step?" The paladin screamed before promptly removing himself from that position.

The beast roared in inhuman rage and lowered his head to charge, finding that all of his random attempts to strike down his foe fell short. Forenius easily sidestepped the clumsy attack and leapt deftly onto the monster's back seconds before it burst through the tower wall and out into the open air.

The fall would not slay such a powerful demon, the hero knew. It was up to him to kill the abomination. Slowly raised his claymore as the wind tore at his face. He sighted it for the what appeared to be the weakest spot upon the beast's back, somewhere between its gigantic shoulderblades.

And then he pushed downwards on the longsword, grimacing as bone splintered and cracked until the point finally sank into more fleshy material, piercing the organs and bringing almost instant death. The head sank low, the wings ceased flapping, and then Forenius and his deceased mount began to sprial toward the ground like a stone.

When the dragon made impact, it flipped, slinging the hero a distance of three hundred feet until he finally came to rest after his head had struck a large rock, rendering him unconcious.

Once again, he awoke in the fortress of Lady d'Grorathia, but this time his conditions were, to say the least, somewhat better. He lay in a bed covered in silken sheets, a bottle of wine in a bucket to his side, chilled in ice. Candles flickered in the pale light as he removed himself from the comfortable furnishing and made his way across the room to the door at the adjacent wall.

Luckily, not even so much a creak issued forth as he peered around the hatch. What he saw was a much larger room, the central figure of which being a great bed and the fireplace behind it. Two rapiers hung crossed in display over the flames that radiated warmth. He moved closer within.

On the bed dozing soundly was the Lady d'Grorathia, her long red locks pouring out around her, wrapped in just enough cover to not be obscene but still displaying so much of her cream colored flesh as to drive him half mad with lust.

Temptress, Forenius thought as he glanced from the lovely form that was barely concealed beneath the thin sheets and the swords upon the wall. Perhaps it'd be of some good to the world if I eliminated her evil prescene once and for all...
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 1:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Look chapter 4! Ok, now vote, unlike the last poll, vote! Does he kill her, join her, or perhaps take her hostage and escape from the castle in a desperate bid to return to his homeland?
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 6:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, the old poll is still up, but I voted to go for the spear. Wink

Anyway, thrust away with a weapon indeed, but not the sword oh no. Hehe. Surprised

Anyhoo, she is not likely that stupid, (is she?) it's probably a test to see what he would do.
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 11:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You might as well indulge yourself. You'll get better oppourtunities to turn the tide of the war if you become her general.
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PostPosted: Fri Feb 10, 2006 7:57 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

just join her already - give in to the dark side
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PostPosted: Fri Feb 10, 2006 4:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I say grab the sword. He is a knight after all and I suspect he will do better with the sword, of course your the author, you decide.

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PostPosted: Fri Feb 10, 2006 4:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hmmm, maybe you shaould have some sort of not so mindless and rebellious troll to fight by or hero's side, named...AreonK...just a thought. Remember it's pronounced (air-ē-on-KAY) Wink
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 11, 2006 1:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

or, you could of course just turn evil
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 11, 2006 2:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

...That too.
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PostPosted: Tue Feb 21, 2006 11:13 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Erm... come on people I want the next chapter!!!
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PostPosted: Tue Feb 21, 2006 1:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

voted for option 1 - the only sensible option - and winning
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PostPosted: Tue Feb 21, 2006 4:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I am with Lordy all the way here.

And winning too.
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 23, 2006 12:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok then. Chapter 5, anyone? Gimme a little bit here and it will appear... magically. Ok, maybe not magically, but it'll be there, ok?
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 23, 2006 1:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 5- Daemon

Lady d'Grorathia lay there before Forenius, tempting him as never before, her nearly nude body shimmering in the orange light cast from the torches mounted upon the stone wall. A debate raged within between the beastial urges and the holy crusader that occupied equal halves of his brain. But, as with any paladin no matter how dedicated or heaven bound, eventually his moral fiber faltered and he took a seat next to her gently breathing form and began to reach toward the gorgeous woman.

She awoke, vibrant green eyes blinking slowly, and gazed upon the form of the victorious warrior. The noblewoman took his mighty hand within her smaller, more fragile one and pulled him close. The other hand she ran through his short cropped hair as the flawless pouting red lips that he ached for were so close that he could feel the sweet breath emanating from them upon his scarred face.

"You are amazing, knight. Only but a few hours past, you slew the world's most ancient of dragons, tore down a large section of my wall, impaled the sorceror that served him, and burned down half of the east wing of palace," She whispered.

"But, my lady, I burned nothing."

A girlish giggle with the reply of, "The spear with which you killed the spell slinger was enchanted as you surely knew. It's fires burned hot..."

"But nowhere near to the intensity of those within my heart," Forenius interrupted as he caved under the pressure exerted by such beauty as that before him and began to kiss her, pressing his mouth firmly upon hers and thrusting his tongue vicously about in her mouth.

Within a few seconds, and much to his chagrin, she pushed him away.

"And still, even after all the ordeals suffered thus far, you'd still make your way to my chambers uninvited and ravage me like a barbarian," d'Grorathia teased with a devious little smile, looking particularly impish and mischeivous with her locks of red hair thrown about her shapely form resembling a devil's cape.

Then she returned the kisses, removing his shirt and running her hands over his muscled back as he leaned above her. He seized the sheets and began to toss them roughly aside when, suddenly, he was struck by a vision.

The ephiphany was but a second, but within it, he saw a great many things. He saw the foul witch before him for what she truly was, a twisted daemon, half human daughter of the god of murder and plague, and all of her schemes laid bare. She was not out for land, spoil, nor even conquest, but to bathe the world in the blood of innocents on such a scale that her divine father would be pleased enough to allow her to become some form of deity herself, which would almost guarantee that she would lose all mortal possession as, unless in truly dire straits, the gods were strictly prohibited from playing an active role in mortal affairs.

That's where Forenius came into the fold. Thus far, he had played his part as told, much like an obidient pawn, which perturbed him greatly. He was to take her here and now, to impregnate this smiling wench and give her an heir which could bear her will to fruition upon the material plane as it would inherit her kingdom which had been built upon the charred corpses of millions, including his blood brothers whom had followed him upon this fool's crusade. His stomach turned at the thought of being so easily manipulated by such evil and he could feel the anger overtaking him.

He raised himself from the bed and began to stand. She tried to follow, but he threw her away roughly, shaking his head like a madman. This was a message from his own god, the god of justice and holy vengeance to whom he had sworn a holy oath to serve, who had sent him these images. Thereby, however unpleasant and in opposition to his feral nature they were, they were truth nonetheless.

"What is wrong, love?" The scheming mistress asked, almost sounding innocent.

"If anything, don't call me that, you she devil!" The soldier screamed in righteous fury as he ripped a rapier mounted upon the wall down and brought the blade to bear on the shocked lady.

Her catlike eyes narrowed in anger as what had happened dawned upon her mind. "You little man, great warrior that you may be, you cannot match me for I have the blood of the divine in my veins."

"And I, the fury of a thousand innocents!" He shouted, eyes ablaze as he thrust the sword into her exposed breast, the tip penetrating her back on the other side and blood spurting in heavy amounts onto the carpeted floor and silk sheets.

Looking down upon the wound, her eyes wide with pain and surprise, she began to pull and tug upon the handle of the weapon until it was removed from her perfect form. The wound began to heal itself immeadiately. Horrified, Forenius turned to the nearest door and ran, her laughter chasing him down the corridor.
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PostPosted: Thu Feb 23, 2006 3:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

well, now that was pretty stupid, attacking a half-daemon like that

i don't see a problem with it - he's just racist if you ask me
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PostPosted: Fri Feb 24, 2006 2:44 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Gah! He could have at least waited until after the act before he prodded her with his other weapon. Foolish, foolish mortal.

Tut tut. Some people, just can't follow something through.

Up to then though, absoloutely excellent chapter JDM! Very Happy
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 27, 2006 12:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok then... the choice this time shall be...
Does he escape stealthily?
Does he escape in a massive bloodbath?
Or Does he not escape at all?
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 27, 2006 1:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

not at all of course, why want him to go with her - who needs morals? useless things...
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 27, 2006 5:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

chinaren wrote:
Gah! He could have at least waited until after the act before he prodded her with his other weapon. Foolish, foolish mortal.

Tut tut. Some people, just can't follow something through.

Up to then though, absoloutely excellent chapter JDM! Very Happy


Thinking with your dick again, huh Chinaren. I don't blame you, that first part was pretty exciting.

I vote for steathily, got get out of there fast and quiet like.
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 18, 2006 4:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 6- Discretion

After running for a short distance, Forenius realized that silence would be key, paramount, to his escape from this palace refuge of the daemon temptress. He would have to melt into the shadows like a ghost and eliminate the enemy with discretion. Whilst this was not the specialty of the paladin and, on most fronts, offensive to his knightly sense of honor, it would be something that he would be forced to persue.

Ducking around a corner, the warrior pressed himself tight against the damp stone wall. The cold bit into his very bones, but he knew that that discomfort was nothing as compared to the gnawing that the barbaric troll minions of his foe would commit. The thought of such atrocities nearly made him shiver with instinctive revulsion. He had seen the victims of prisoner camps and had determined it better to die a fighting man sword clutched in hand rather than the suffer the unspeakable brutalities of his inhuman enemies.

Thinking of a sword brought his mind full circle, reminding the soldier that, unlike the norm, he had neither a blade mounted upon his back, in his belt, nor in his hand. He resolved to find a suitable weapon with which to slaughter the villians before him. Looking about himself, he found nothing of the sort of which he longed for.

He supposed that he should have to make due with his bare hands and fists for now. The more religious part of his conciousness chided that it was only right that he be reduced to the weapons of a beast as he had so nearly succumbed to such carnal desires with the mistress earlier. He lived like an animal, so it was only right that he fight like one.

The crusader clenched his fists in the darkness, despising his own baser instincts for the actions he had committed earlier and his heart was filled with indignation and righteous fury. He bore his teeth in a pantherish display of agression and tensed his muscles as the sound of feet on the hard floor drew ever closer. Drawing back and drawing his leg muscles taut, he waited in ambush for his prey.

The sentry rounded the corner his club dragging heavily on the floor as he looked about for the rarity of a possible intruder. The ideal moment came for Forenius when the monstorous troll turned his sweaty pimple covered back to the hero and surveyed the area opposite of him. Seizing the opportunity, he leapt from his hidden lair in a blinding burst of speed and flung himself onto the massive abomination.

He wrapped both arms about its bulging throat and scrambled for a hold as his foe tried his mightiest to throw his attacker from him much like an unbroken war horse. But Forenius was of greater stock and might than any troll. His sinews were as steel, his hold never once faltering, no matter how fiercely the fiend shook.

The veteran probed about with his fingers, and assuming the desired grip and dug in deep into the fleshy material of his opponent's throat. The victim emitted a strange gargling sound as he began to choke upon his own putrid blood. A quick ripping motion and blood spurted about in a wide arc, revealing that the chivalric figure had accomplished his goal of tearing out his enemy's throat.

Forenius leapt from the back of the foul creature as it tumbled forward, clutching at the spewing fountain that had only moments before been its jugular. Grabbing the gigantic bludgeon from the floor, he ended its worthless life with one heavy blow. This deed completed, he faded back into the shade and crept away like a theif in the night.

The task of following the hero's path throughout the fortress would have been a simple task indeed, seeing as he left scattered behind him the broken bodies of over a dozen trolls in his wake and several small fires. During the ensuing panic and commotion, it was not noticed as a cloaked man took his leave of the palace.

Across his back was slung a two handed greatsword, a relic from an age of giants and gods long forgotten that he had obtained from the armory and beneath him was a spirited painted horse with a blaze face and courage to match his own seemingly endless supply. During the night they ran, undoubtably pursued by the wicked Lady d'Grorathia and her host across everlasting plains as they made their way to the rider's homeland.

During this great chase, only one thought burned deep within Forenius's mind... what kind of reception would he be greeted with upon his return? Returning prince and savior, deserter and coward, or he be simply ignored?
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 18, 2006 4:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, missed the poll, so I suppose I only have myself to blame for this course of action.

There is still time to turn back. If he grovels she may forgive him.
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 20, 2006 10:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I seriously doubt forgiveness as an option. As of now, he's stabbed her, killed several of her minions, led them on a drawn out chase, and burned down a rather sizeable section of her fortress. And plus, you know that there are starting to be some sort of morale problem in the ranks after this.

And plus... now that I've gotten past the steamier temptations, now I can move on to some real high adventure and hardcore action.
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 20, 2006 2:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

No - I'm all for turning back, but baring that I'm going to go for coward and desertor. I mean - he gets captured by the evil daemonic queen, and now comes back with a brilliant horse, arms and armour? And is the only survivor from his force? I suspect he'll either be treatred as a spy, or simply a coward who fled before the battle.

Voted, and winning.
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 31, 2006 10:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'll give this a few more days and then see about writing the next one.

Hey, Lordy... I think you picked the wrong one. Didn't you say that you wanted deserter, not returning hero?

Just want to make sure before I do the next bit. Maybe more people will read the next installment or at least vote on it. Sad
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 02, 2006 10:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Screw it. Here goes...
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 02, 2006 10:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

'ted and tying.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 03, 2006 1:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 7- Damek

It was once called the city of lights. But that was long ago. That was before HE came. His name was Damek and nothing was known about him. Walking past the gates, his spurs clinking rythmically upon the paved roads, a saddle tossed across his back and a flintlock pistol hanging from his hip, he said not a word as the fog slithered up his legs.

Then the first child vanished. Nothing new really, given all the wolves and such in the area. But this one was different in that absolutely nothing was found. Nothing at all, like the lad had been borne away by some fairy. The first light went out as the family passed into mourning.

Others followed. Eventually, the whole metropolis settled into a state best described as shellshock as all the infants gradually faded away. Some sensing an unnatural power at work, took to slaying their own progeny in their sleep. It was considered a mercy compared to whatever was more than likely stealing them away at night. They were right.

In time, the stranger gathered his strength and marshalled his resources until he could risk all out assault upon the residents. In the course of one night, the entire urban area became an eerie ghost town, save the brainless ghouls that wondered the streets.

Hearing of the troubles, three adventurers from the far east confronted the unholy one. They were all killed without Damek even doing so much as breaking a sweat. But before being annhilated, they did manage to seal him deep within an ancient tomb beneath the city streets.

And there he remained. For a time, at least.

...............................................

Such tales were far from the mind of Forenius, however, as he spurred his mount ever harder attempting to reach his fatherland. It was in the abandoned city of lights that the paint finally gave way to exhaustion and faltered. Its last gasping breaths were taken a short distance from the city gates.

Forenius knew better than to think himself free. Climbing the parapet of the north tower, he could easily spy the massive dustclouds generated by the moving host. The trolls and Lady d'Grorathia were not far behind. He knew that the siren would have no mercy upon her spiteful lover.

There was no way for him to combat such a large army singlehandedly. His death would more than likely be the result. But not until the demigoddess had her fun. He knew that in her tempest-like fury that she would have conceived some truly horrible punishment for this would be hero.

He could not allow that. His kingdom was without knights, as more than the majority went on the failed crusade. Forenius was the last and it was essential that he rescue his people. If he were to die, then it'd just have to wait until after that.

There was no apparent way out of this seemingly abandoned city other than the one entrance, however. The knight began to seek allies or at least a mount and armor. He would have to prepare a surprise for the bestial army that mounted outside the gates.

The first step was to close the portculis. That was simple. Next, he began to scavenge for weapons and tools as to build traps and snares.

Entering the throne room of what must have been the great palace of some truly wondeful city-state, the first thing that caught the crusader's attention was the armor. It was dust covered, as was everything else within the area. But it still shined as compared to all the other miscellaneous artifacts in the area.

Advancing toward the throne, with something of an awestruck expression upon his face, Forenius assessed the armor. It was a heavy suit of golden plate mail, the likes of which he had never seen before. A crimson cape hung about the neck bearing the standard of a ruling house long forgotten. It still rested upon the bones of the previous owner, slumped upon the ebony throne, now nothing more than a skeletal corpse.

Cautiously, the warrior waved his hand a few inches in front of the dead man's face. A small breeze from this movement unsettled a small cloud of dust but other than that, all was still. Sword drawn and battle ready, he touched the decayed form next.

To his dismay, the ancient corpse actually slowly disintigrated into ash beneath his very touch. The armor clanked to the floor with a loud noise that echoed deafiningly off the walls and reverberated deep into the hidden ruins far below. An ancient evil stirred for the first time in centuries.

Not knowing of any other approaching danger other than the bloodthirsty army of savages, the hero moved speedily about his business, first fitting on the armor and then continuing his other preperations. It was during this final stage that he heard the enemy arrive at the gates. He rushed up toward the ramparts, hastily fastening a final strap to view the mighty army before him.

Halfway up the stairs, a loose stone gave beneath him and he crashed through the floor and into the dark chambers below. Pulling himself up from the splintered wood and shattered stone, Forenius looked about himself. Across the room shimmered a bright green portal that resembled something like a pool of water suspended magically upon the wall.

The knight had heard of such things before but never had actually beheld one. This was the preferred mode of travel for any magic user. The strange gate was a doorway to anywhere they wished to go. All one had to do was simply leap through while saying the name of the place that you wished to transit to. Forenius had no idea if the device worked or if he was even capable of making use of it, but it was surely a better chance at survival than battling thousands of trolls.

Holding his breath, he leapt through whilst screaming the name of his homeland. The crimson cloak was pulled through last resembling the tail of a fox fleeing the hunt.

.................................................

It was a simple matter for the army to bash down the ancient walls. Surging inwards, they charged, screaming at the top of putrid lungs to find no foe other than the traps which were awaiting them only half prepared. No more than a handful were slain. Forenius would have been doomed.

The Lady surveyed the destruction as her minions moved from structure to structure, setting fire and looting as they searched for the hero. She noticed with sudden alarm as an entire unit dropped dead for no apparent reason in the western section of the city. It was rapidly followed by another and after that, another.

Her gorgeous green eyes narrow with rage, she ran down the steps from her citadel that she had immeadiately claimed for her own upon arrival intending to dispatch this foe herself. Arriving in the street, she was greeted by a thick patch of fog from which emerged a lone figure clad in black.

His hair was long and flowing, black to the point of violet and his eyes shined with a million sparks of red light as if he actually burned within. He was wearing naught but a large overcoat and sackcloth pants which hung loosely on his starved frame. He smiled.

"I am Damek and you are the Lady d'Grorathia," He said without a second's hesitation.

"I was told that you would come. We have much to speak of."

................................................

Forenius did indeed arrive in his homeland, dazed and ranting for the first few hours. It seemed as if the portal had had some odd effect upon his mind. Toying with him even more was the unexpected welcome that he received from the guard, who immeadiately arrested and jailed him on terms of treason and conspiracy.

As dark as the road ahead seemed to him sitting within that dank cell, something within told the protagonist that things were only getting worse.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 03, 2006 2:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

There we go. Next decision point is really double sided...

What happens with Damek and the Lady?

And Forenius?

Any ideas?
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 03, 2006 4:15 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I guess I must have hit the wrong box, ahh well - my option still won.

Now Damek, what could he possibly want? A treaty ot co-operation, an alliance, a marriage agreement? Or could he be looking to eliminate a rival, and just trying to get close to his target.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 03, 2006 4:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thought so. That's why I went with what you said instead of what you clicked.

Plus- it allows me to put everything in so much more dire of a situation...

Forenius is in jail.

Lady d'Grorathia is right on his tail with an entire army.

Damek has emerged as a new villian, possibly more powerful than the Lady.


The decision point for this chapter is what does Damek want?

And so playing off Lordy's idea,

Marriage?

Alliance?

To assassinate the Lady?

What is his purpose behind such actions? And where will this go?

I don't even know yet. Confused
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 1:50 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Poll is up, so VOTE!

Please, I'd really like more than the last one... two! Which was one until I started writing the next chapter.

But anyways, more votes please!
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 1:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Stuck my thing in! Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 1:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Just had to go for dark alliance.

Voted, and winning.
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 2:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks guys. You know any ways to really get the word out about this story?

Cause in the begining it was drawing like 7 votes per chapter easy but it gradually siphoned off into, well, 2. Know any ways to get some attention?
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 3:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jack_D.Mented wrote:
Thanks guys. You know any ways to really get the word out about this story?

Cause in the begining it was drawing like 7 votes per chapter easy but it gradually siphoned off into, well, 2. Know any ways to get some attention?


It's a tough one. I recommend ChinAd agency. It worked for me! Wink

But seriously, posting comments in other peoples stories is the most basic way. That way you get your name known and your sig of course displays your games. There is the Shameless Advertising thread in er, the IFTI I think.

Otherwise there isn't much you can really do. Persevere though. Narg started with maybe 1 vote for about 5 chapters, went up to about 12 around chapter 15 and is now down to about 4 regularly. Hey ho, so it goes. Confused I press on.

Oh, put yourself forward for SGotM in the top thread that Smee does every month. Too late for this month, but next time...
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 13, 2006 11:03 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks for the advice, C-Man. I've been browsing and posting a bit more, used the advertising thread, and I'll try for the SGOTM thingy next time around.

Hopefully, we'll get some more readers in on this thing.
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 13, 2006 11:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I went for a dark alliance.

I think Forenius is going to regain his mind over the course of a few days. Then, perhaps, he has to stand trial to a hostile crowd. He tells the truth and doesn't get believed...

...until...

...is there an 'until'? Up to the author, really Very Happy

Good writing Jack Smile
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 13, 2006 3:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, Shady. Good to have another reader.

Whew, glad to know some of that effort's paying off.

And I'm glad that you like the story.

Just to give a hint on the next chapter... I've had a really great character in my mind for a long time and I've just been itching to incorporate him into some story or another ever since I first made him on Icewind Dale...

He's one of my personal favorite creations and I have the full intention of if he goes over right, I may just give him his own tales chronicling his own adventures.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 15, 2006 7:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, next chapter then. Why not? Let's see...
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 15, 2006 8:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 8- Discussion

The cell was dark and putrid. It was better than his home in the troll encampment, Forenius had to admit, but none the less, it was hive of flith and waste. Food remains such as rotting fish heads and splintered fragments of chicken bone littered the floor as did the excrement that their digestion produced. Needless to say, the ten by ten box stank.

In the corner was a hunched figure, his face obscured by a red hood, which seemed completely unnecessary in such a subterranian enviroment, as once the thick door was covered, the darkness could only be rivaled by the inside of a coffin. Several times, the crusader attempted to approach the cloaked man, but was only met with stoic silence.

Still, he was still some form of company. Within an hour and a half, the hero had divulged his adventures up to the current point. It truly felt great to at least have some form of companionship whose entire existence was not hinged upon the destruction of all things great and good. His logic impelled him to think that his newfound friend was deaf and perhaps mute.

It had been almost a day and a half when Forenius began to ask things. His mind was still rather fragile from his sudden leap across space and it was inevitable that eventually the conditions would begin to wear upon his psyche.

Sitting on a bench, his knees cradled in his arms, the knight finally pondered the question that thus far his faith had repeatedly countered and blocked from proceeding from his lips. Before he knew it was being asked, the words burst forth and he winced at the implication of them.

"Has my god abandoned me?"

"No. Just gods do not abandon without provocation and you are a good man if what you have told me is truth," Intoned the cellmate with a voice that was all rusty nails and hardened steel.

Looking at him, umcomprehending, the noble was speechless.

"I have waited and listened, biding my time and determining if you were worthy," The shade expounded, finally standing to his full height, the scarlet robes stirring the stale air as he moved.

"Worthy of what, exactly?" Frozen lips finally forced out in question.

Reaching into his sleeve, the dark man withdrew a crudely fashioned blade that grimly reflected what little light there was.

"Of this," He proclaimed with a cold smile as he moved slowly away from the corner that he'd been guarding for this past while. His movements revealed a tunnel that shined with sun at the far end.

Gesturing toward the crude opening, he continued, "Or this."

"Escape and conquest is your destiny, Forenius, third son of the great house of Petrus. Let us take our leave of this wretched place."

Together, they scrambled toward the surface and away from the prison.

.................................................

The Lady drew a chair up at the end of the long green table and looked intently into the twilight eyes of the man that was perhaps the only being that she knew of that could truly rival her power.

"How, do you know of me, vampire?"

"When you hover long enough in the state of undeath, somewhere between this mortal shell and eternal sleep, some say you can hear the gods whisper," The fiend replied with a sharp smile.

"What do you want?" She pressed on, determined to find out why this mysterious nosferatu was before her.

"Blood. The blood of thousands. The same as you. Just it so happens that I consider spilling it to be... wasteful, an activity that you seem to take up with relish."

"What can you offer me?" The flame haired countess countered, her own intentions never far from the forfront of any parley.

"Dark magics undreamed of, a supplement of ghouls to your ranks, and all I want is all your prisoners."

"We are not in the habit of taking prisoners currently."

"Times change," Damek replied, firing off with his own wit.

Knowing that she, in all truth, had no real option in the matter, and resigning herself to the alliance, the Lady had to ask one more thing.

"Why do you seek such an alliance?"

Nonchalantly, the undead responded, "Convenience. I am not as strong as I once was after these eons of rest."

Noticing the telltale movement of a beautiful hand to sword hilt, the damned one was behind the demi-goddess in an instant, breathing down the back of her lovely neck, his ice cold breath stirring the small hairs that commonly stand rigid at the prescence of such abominations.

"Still strong enough for you, woman," He whispered. "I need massive amounts of life's blood to restore me to my prior glory and you are the most expedient way of gaining such a thing. Simple, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"I am retiring to my chamber for now, as the sun is rising. I shall see you at another time, mistress," Damek stated as he exited with a mocking bow.

Just as d'Grorathia prepared to draw breath once again, the pale head protruded around the corner once again.

"And don't get any ideas, warmonger. I'm not like the fiery paladin. I do not like you, I do not lust for you, and I find your kind to be not much more than cattle. Remember this, stay useful, and you'll stay alive."

And with that, the malignant spirit was gone, for the daylight hours at least.

The Lady was left alone to ponder the deal she had just brokered. She believed it certainly for the best of her plan but prayed to her divine father that it would not somehow backfire. This hellion was not raw and elemental like Forenius and nowhere as easy to manipulate. Controls had to be implemented to insure that there would be no betrayal.

The road to divinity was long and filled with a great number of obstacles, it seemed.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 15, 2006 8:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Alright, then. The decision point for this chapter is, what is awaiting Forenius and his cell-mate on the outside?
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 15, 2006 2:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

An angry mob. A stories not a story* unless it has at least one angry mob.

*Well, not an angry mob story at least.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 6:58 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think maybe riots or the city is ablaze, or the war has come to these parts as well. Something that creates chaos and allows them to go towards their goals unnoticed, but still in peril.

Another good chapter Jack. I keep seeing these chapters late at night and forgetting to read them the next morning. Caught up now though Smile
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 7:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks. The reason you see them late at night, well. that's cause the night time is my writing time for the most part.

I crank up some Rob Zombie (well, that's what it's been lately) or something similiar and then I write away. I just let the music take me and I write whatever I feel.

I'll only have a couple ideas about what I want, but everything else is pretty much improv. Off Topic

But, ok, now back to the story...

Riot or battle? hmmm... Good options Shady one. And Lordy, just for you, I think I'll include an angry mob in there too.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 3:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Angry mob plus invading army - nice one.

Voted, and winning.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 8:06 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Cool. Where's China?

I'm getting tempted to write some more soon.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 3:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sorry, I missed this somehow.

Very nice chapter JD!! My favorite so far I think, even if it did have a vampire in.

Very well written.

I voted for riot/rebellion, but all the options are good ones.

Proceed!
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 4:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Glad you liked it, C-Man. I'll hop on that next chapter right away...
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 5:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 9- Daylight

The day rushed toward them from the end of the tunnel, the light flashing and dancing about before their eyes like a mistress of the seven vales. The two convicts moved ever closer to their goal, both of them eager to escape the hangman's noose and the damp hell lurked behind them with a gaping maw that threatened to devour their souls without hesitation. Like two moles, they clawed their way from within the beast of a fortress, damp soil clinging beneath their nails and clay painting their faces.

Upon reaching their destination, Forenius gave pause as he heard something that greatly disturbed him. His companion was no stranger to conflict and war either, and he too waited with great hesitation before the threshold. In wordless agreement, they both glanced out from the eathern sanctaury as one and surveyed the area before them.

Their senses were keen and sharp, as befitted fighting men of that era, but, for once, they would have preferred to have been lied to. But, alas, they were correct in their assumption.

There was a battle on. The enemy was within the city, people were dying and fires raged. The cries of the dead and dying echoed down the narrow alleyways and the smell of burning flesh and hair wafted across the wind. Blood flowed more liberally than wine at the richest of weddings, turning the river that cleanly cut the metropolis in half a great frothing red.

In a state of great shock and horror, the two warriors ducked back within their hidden refuge that so shortly before, they'd been willing to escape at almost any cost.

Trying his best to rationalize, Forenius could come upon only one conclusion for how the enemy host had arrived within the capital with such speed...

They had followed him through the portal within the abandoned city.

They had followed him. He should have destroyed the damned thing when he had the chance.

Now his family, his friends, and all that he had ever cherised were perishing within a hellish inferno that raced across the urban areas with unprecedented speed. The rage began to creep forward from within the darkest corners of his mind and his vision began to slowly fade to a shade of crimson.

He was awakened by his comrade, who placed a consoling hand upon the paladin's shoulder, snapping him from the berserker fury that threatened to swallow him whole.

"It's not your fault, young lord," The cloaked man intoned.

"They would have come here in time, anyways. And given as your own people would rather see you hang than listen to your words, this was their destined fate, no matter your course."

Looking at his friend for the first time, Forenius noticed something that had slipped past his attention within the confines of the dark cell. This man was a long haired hunter of the northern tribes, that was true enough, he could tell by the exotic weaves and braids in his hair that was ornamented with feathers and beads.

But it was something else that almost eluded his gaze. The man had the subtle high cheekbones, slightly pointed ears, and slight features of an elf, yet with the accent of a normal man.

"Yes, I can see it in your eyes. I am a half breed of impure blood. Half elven and half human barbarian. Both of which are commonly considered enemies by your state," The man responded with uncanny instinct.

"But I would rather have you know me for who I am and less for my lineage," He stated, extending an open hand in friendship.

"I am Larson of the Twelve Pines, bounty hunter."

The knight took the hand offered and shook vigorously. "I am Forenius Petrus, paladin and crusader and I have never been one to hold a man's parentage against him."

A slight grin crossed the bounty hunter's face, "Not to say that you are unpleasant conversation, my lord... but we have killing to do!"

And having said thus, he leapt from the pit, his red cloak swirling about behind him as it were in itself a living entity.

Close on his heels was the bloodthirsty crusader, who, by this time, had amounted for himself a mighty hunger for the hearts of his foes.

Larson fell upon the first troll that he beheld with great ferocity, stabbing it several times with his small blade that he'd hidden upon his person in the prison. Forenius, not far behind, seized a large chunk of rock and bludgeoned the foul creature until brains lay scattered about the street like roadkill.

Bending down, the knight grabbed up for himself one of the great obsidian axes from the ground that the mighty abominations were prone to use.

Raising an eyebrow, Larson asked, "Are you sure you can use that thing, hero?"

"Trust me, we know each other... intimately," The warrior responded, throwing the weapon across his shoulder.

"Well, I for one, would much rather have my own gear," The huntsman responded.

"And I so happen to know where it is. Back inside the prison."

Forenius looked at the cloaked figure as he began the long walk toward the prison gates.

"You're really going back inside, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," The half elf responded without a moment's thought.

"But the people out here need our help..."

"See how much help you are without armor or even a real weapon."

As much as Forenius hated to admit it, his confederate had a point. But he was still torn. Did he waste time, and perhaps, lives, by going back inside the tower to fetch his possessions or did he continue along the current route, hoping that he'd find something good along the way?
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 5:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Back to the prison and gear up!

That was quick JdM
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 10:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yeah, I agree. Go back to the prison, you'll save more in the long run.

Good new character, btw Very Happy
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 6:03 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, go get your weapons.

The bounty hunter (or killer as you called him) is going there anyways, and you might well need his help.
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 11:07 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Not much of a D-point this time around, but next chapter should be better, trust me. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 26, 2006 3:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted for the old prison break, weapon grap trick, and winning.

And when are we going to see more of the evil side of things?
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 6:35 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 10- Devout One

"Let's go in there silent," Forenius suggested to his counterpart, who was crouched a short distance in front of the prison with him.

Smiling, the half elf responded, "Why the hell would I do that? There's no fun in it."

He got up and left the knight stammering, unable to complete a sentence in his current state of frustration.

"Who's the paladin and who's the swashbuckler, o valiant hero?" The red cloaked bounty hunter taunted, prodding some movement from his companion, who hastily rose to his feet and gave chase.

"It's almost like you want to live forever, nobleman!" The rogue continued as they neared the heavy wrought iron gates.

Stopping upon the doorstep, he began to assess the situation. Forenius drew up behind, obviously working on the same problem.

"So, my flamboyant friend, how do you suggest we gain access to yon fortress?" The crusader asked, with more than a little irritation present in his cultured voice.

"Well, I reckon that I take this device," The bounty hunter replied as he removed a small crystalline orb from one of his many pockets and displayed it for his friend to see, "And throw it on ground."

Forenius would have asked how this particular course of action would assist them, but he was far too distracted by the billowing smoke that the sphere produced when shattered.

He fully intended upon asking something along those lines when he was finished coughing if he had not been so awestruck by the sight of a red cloaked man bounding over the great wall in a single leap.

Within seconds, the palisade was open and his friend was standing there on the other side, waiting.

"H-how?" The puzzled warrior began to ask but he was interrupted before the sentence could be completed.

"Some things only elves are meant to know, my high born ally," Larson expounded, placing an arm around Forenius's broad shoulders as he ushered him into the prison courtyard.

Larson was shocked when in response to this, Forenius cast him roughly aside, sending his sprawling into the mud.

“What the hell?” The red cloaked man asked as he began to rise, only to see where a foul ghoul had been felled next to him, its rotten head cleaved in half with an obsidian axe.

Leaning down, the knight offered a hand to his friend, which was promptly accepted and used to hoist the bounty killer up to his feet.

“So, who’s he? Friend of yours?”

“No,” The paladin responded gravely shaking his head.

“Are you sure? I mean, he resembles most the nobility I’ve seen in my time,” Larson replied in jest.

“Not funny,” The warrior responded, shouldering his heavy weapon and marching off toward the central building.

“But true. After centuries of constant inbreeding, really? What can you expect, right? Right?”

Shouting over his shoulder, the soldier asked, “You coming or not?”

“Now, honestly, do I have anything better to do?” The fortune hunter responded as he gave chase, pursing his cohort.

Swinging open the oaken doors, they saw before them a mighty host of undead. Forenius followed his natural reaction and leapt amongst the pestilent zombies, hacking about with his great axe, cutting a red swath through their rotten ranks.

Looking down at his scalpel sized instrument, Larson, after a moment of consideration, asked himself, “Awww, hell. Who wants to live forever?”

He then joined the fray, ducking and diving as he shanked his way to Forenius. Drenched in both sweat and blood in equal measure, they met in the center of the chamber, panting in near exhaustion.

Flicking half a severed eyeball off his left shoulder during a lull in the battle, the mercenary whispered to his knightly accomplice, “Over there, about twenty feet away is the room with our stuff.”

Nodding, Forenius replied, “Ok, in three, we go, alright?”

“Stellar. Ok, three!” The rogue dashed forward, igniting another melee in his wake as he slit another corpse’s throat.

The crusader responded in kind, swinging about his trollish weapon, severing several heads, sending them rolling about like balls on the floor.

Upon reaching the armory and slamming the door behind him, Forenius asked between his desperate gasps for air, “What was that?”

Shrugging, the rogue simply responded with a slight grin, “Sorry, patience never was one of my strong points.”

Suddenly, another, new voice echoed from across the earthen room promptly breaking up the banter. His thick accent hinted at his great number of northern ancestors, dripping with malice and primal rage.

“Who are you to come so brazenly into my shelter from yon abominations? Speak now, or face the wrath of Cynyr the Devout,” The great blonde figure stated, pounding upon his massive chest as he stepped from the shadows.

“I do not fear you, barbarian, but if I must, I shall cut you down,” The paladin hissed through gritted teeth.

“And although I hardly know him, I count this man amongst my friends and shall fight beside him even if it grants me no more than a painful death,” Larson followed, dripping with hate for the ancestral enemy of his people.

The blonde behemoth laughed and spoke, “Ha! An elven half breed and what? An Imperial high blood? Normally, but for no reason than to sate my bloodlust, I’d slay ye both.

But my the Thunderer, my sacred warhammer, imbued with the spirits of my people’s greatest warriors of times long past, speaks and doth tell that you are warriors as well in measure.”

“And that means what, besides you’re a maniac?” The red cloaked rogue snidely asked.

“Tis means that I’d much rather cast my own lot with your own than do battle. If ye’d have me that is?” The berserker asked, taking a knee.

Despite Larson's emphatic pleas to the contrary, something of the nature of this man spoke to Forenius, which demanded that he allow this seemingly virtuous warrior to join their little triumvirate.

But, none the less, it was a wise arguement upon the half elf's behalf that it could result in folly to so willingly accept an ally from the belly of the beast...
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 6:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Alright, cranked out the newest chapter...

Do we accept this seemingly noble warrior into our ranks? You must ask...

But anyways, to answer something asked earlier...
Quote:

And when are we going to see more of the evil side of things?


Don't worry, Lordy... next chapter for that one. If all goes to plan, we shall have much more evil. Trust me Very Happy .
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 27, 2006 10:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'd say not. You need allies, but not ones that change points of view so easily. I'd be worried about getting a weapon to the back of the head at the wrong moment if I were either Larson or Forenius.

Go find the forces that are fighting on your side and tip the balance a little Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 28, 2006 7:28 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good opinion, Shady.

But good news, guys. I'm gonna see about getting this one STICKY and hopefully, it'll net a whole bunch of new people.

But anyways, continue discussion on whether or not to accept the friendship of Cynyr the Devout.
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 28, 2006 1:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, isn't Larson himself half-barbarian? Perhaps he's just trying to suppress his other half. I'd say accept his help, because if nothing else it's unlikely for a barbarian to come up with coming plans like that.
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 28, 2006 2:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, Larson is half barbarian as well, but his human ancestors are from a different tribe than Cynyr's. Their people are sworn enemies.

Hence, how Larson's view on the matter could be slightly tainted.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 2:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

But anyhow...

Here's a poll. Have fun and think through this decision, as it will affect the story in ways unforseen, possibly even resulting in the death of a character.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

That's what I was saying - how Larson couldn't really give a clear opinion.

Voted to accept his help, and currently winning.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 7:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nah Ah. The guy just accepted, after he talked to his littlewar hammer. I have a feeling that the warhammer would leave a serious indention in Larson's and Forenius's skulls. A very BIG AND BLOODY indention, which I wouldn't mind but I want see how long they'll last before some people start voting for them to be cut down...Cheerful ain't I? Wink
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 7:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, that's definitely one way to look at it. I'm betting most people would be reluctant to accept a man who chats with his weapon on a regular basis.

Of course, then again, berserkers aren't exactly reknowned for being stellar examples of good mental health in the first place...
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:19 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jack_D.Mented wrote:
Here's a poll. Have fun and think through this decision, as it will affect the story in ways unforseen, possibly even resulting in the death of a character.



For a story with death in the title, your characters have been unfortunatly brimming with longevity. or in laymans terms kill them all Laughing
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 12:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 11- Doom

As much as part of Forenius trusted this earnest barbarian, something buried deep in the pit of his gut told him not to accept the services of this man. Larson, although his perspective was more than likely tainted by the great animosity between their tribes, had a point.

Forenius, thinking upon how to put the declining phrase in the most inoffensive manner, was spared the trouble when the gigantic warrior rose to his feet with a somewhat mournful look upon his scarred face.

“I see that, truly, a debate doth rage within this fighting man hotter than any great battle and I shall spare him the great trouble by retracting the offer of servitude,” Cynyr the Devout spoke.

Mounting a staircase, he took his leave of the duo as they watched without a word spoken.

Larson, being by far the more wordy of the pair, was naturally the first to shatter the silence.

“Well, that was awkward as hell. Let’s grab our gear and roll out, shall we?” He asked, with a slap across Forenius’s broad shoulders as he ran toward the evidence vault.

Shrugging the notion that the area had suddenly grown colder, Forenius followed sullenly.

The two hastily suited up within their respective armor and gathered their weapons and provisions without noticing the fog that slithered in beneath the door and curled around their feet in icy tendrils.

Try as he may, the knight could not rid himself of the feeling that he was being watched, a premonition that he soon found to be true as they prepared to exit the area.

A lone figure, bright eyed and evil blocked the door, his face covered with a menacing shade and his skin pale as ivory from having walked his entire life beneath the halo of eternal night. His silken black hair draped down across his back, barely discernable from his brown overcoat. A glint shimmered from the barrel of the crude flintlock pistol that was haphazardly tucked within his belt.

“Who are you?” Larson boldly asked to the menacing figure, only to be flung across the room by a flick of the thing’s wrist.

With a clatter of steel and the rustle of chain mail, he landed, sprawling on the floor.

“You undead bastard!” Forenius screamed, drawing the claymore from across his back and charging at the vampire.

He slashed, hacking at an opponent that easily outmatched him in blood, instinct, and skill. Every blow was blocked and countered with a small irritating scratch, as if the foe were a kitten toying with a grasshopper.

Glowing with hatred and rage, the crusader finally seized a cold hand within his own golden gauntlet and head butted the terrible beast with all his might. The force sent the opponent back a step, stunning him for a second.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Forenius swung with a sure killing blow, but at the last instant, his enemy disintegrated into the fog from which he came, the great blade only cleaving air.

Appearing right before the warrior before he could react, the nosferatu grasped him and lifted him high from the cobbled floor with one hand, the extra one hundred pounds added by the armor having no effect on his supernatural strength.

“I am Damek, slayer of cities, boy. Know my name, for I shall be the last you know in this life,” The shade taunted.

He brought the hero closer to him, his yellowed fangs beckoning for the virtuous royal blood in those sacred veins.

At the last possible second, his face spasmed with pain and he threw the soldier across the room, hurling him through a pillar, shattering the stone with the impact.

Reaching around, the disgruntled undead lord noticed buried within his back one of Larson’s prize throwing tomahawks. Noticing the grinning triumphant look upon the swashbuckler’s face, he flashed across to him, seeming almost to teleport instantly.

He grappled with the reluctant man for a moment, but eventually prevailed, lurching his head back and sinking his elongated fangs into the half elf’s exposed jugular. Drinking deep of the exotic blood, he was unprepared for what happened next.

Before he could recoil from the blow, the unholy thing was smote aside the head with a large warhammer, tearing him from his victim.

“And nay, I do say, foul fiend. This one’s pure soul, ye’ll not be having upon this day,” Cynyr declared, hefting Thunderer back into reign.

“The last thing, you’ll say,” Damek replied, his mouth gushing with blood and his head slightly caved in.

Leaping high into the air, almost twenty feet from the ground, the vampire struck atop the barbarian’s head with a thunderous blow, burying his hand deep in the human’s brain and shattering his skull. Twitching for a second, the berserker dropped as the abomination licked the fresh fluid from his fingertips much like a child would do with a favorite dish.

Rising, Forenius thought at first that he may have been brain addled when he heard the voice speak from nowhere. But looking about, his eyes were drawn to the hammer, which lay beside the fallen fighter.

Reach to me.

Having no other plan, he stretched out a hand to the warhammer, and it seemed to fly to him.

Damek, still distracted with the delicacy upon his fingertips did not notice this.

Strike the dead one. Strike him with all the might of your fathers,It whispered across the endless breadth of the ages.

Charging the thing, he screamed, drawing all the strength of his proud ancestry for the coming blow.

Just looking up in time to barely see the attacker, the vampire was nowhere near ready when the mighty weapon struck him.

The heavy mallet carried true, sinking deep into the beast’s abdomen, cracking his ribs and forcing him to vomit the still warm blood as he was slung backwards. Striking the thick stone wall, he shattered through it, even the ancient might of the fortress unable to contain the battle.

Tumbling out into the street, water slinging up about him, the apparition finally came to a stop against the wheel of a stopped cart.

Rising to his feet, the impure demon shouted in his rage, “Strike me as you may, holy one, but your friend’s soul shall still be mine in the time of three days!”

Having screamed his threat, he promptly transformed into a thick cloud of bats and flittered away into the night.

Rushing to Larson’s side, the paladin noticed that although he pained him to admit so, his confederate bore upon his neck two fresh bleeding wounds, indicating the vampiric infection.

Racking his brain for a solution, he could only think of two men who could help him. One was a mage and the other a priest. Shortly before he’d taken his leave of his homeland for the Great Crusade, he’d heard of these two working in tandem to produce a cure for vampirism.

The mage had fled long ago, protesting the war to a small hamlet not far away, but he believed that the priest lurked somewhere still within the city, more than likely in hiding. Which would be the better to search for?
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 12:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Alright, new chapter and D-point...

Who do we look for? The mage in a small hamlet some miles away or the priest that hides somewhere in the city?

And how'd you guys like that for a chapter? Plenty of action and evil, I hope. Smile
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 12:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Neither - let him change and hope he remembers just who he is.

And I bet you did that just so you could include a death, didn't you?
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 2:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Kind of. I wanted to have a really big fight and I wanted somebody to die, but the main thing is that I wanted to start off STICKY with a bang.

The thought of having Larson get infected had been bouncing around in my head for a bit when one of my friends started talking about some stuff he'd really like to see in what he described as the perfect fight. BINGO!

So, I started writing away. Of course, Zeit up there, my roomie, is a big spoiler and just wanted to give a little *wink wink nudge nudge* to all you who it was supposed to surprise.

But don't worry, true believers, I'll do my best to not let him eavesdrop on any more of my epiphanies and just make him read the chapter with everyone else.
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 6:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Liked this chapter... the only one I never got to proofread. But alas I am a spoiler.. HA!.. I was just asking for all of their deaths and for lady whatshername to be victorious. And you call me a spoiler.. hmm.. maybe I will be lucky and all will become Damek food shortly. "or Larson food if all goes well"
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 12:55 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chop his head off and put him out of your misery! Very Happy
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 1:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'd say go outside the city. Things might be a little quieter in this hamlet, and you've no idea where the priest is hiding anyway. Little chance of finding him in a war zone Shocked

Good chapter. Liked the brains Razz
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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 6:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Poll up on this one now!
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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 6:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

What? No neither option? Discrasful.
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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 6:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Awww... come on, Lordy. The guy's a paladin and that just wouldn't sit right with him.

Plus... Larson becoming a vampire would kind of kill my plans for the story so far... But trust me, you'll like what ends up happening...
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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 7:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

He could just kill him then - why risk it?
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 10:15 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I like larson.. I would like him more as a headless vampire.. can that be arranged?
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 1:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

No. No headless vampire action. I need him around and mortal for my plans. You of all people know this, Zeit.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 2:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

bah.. even if I know of a different direction that the story will go, I still can put ideas out there... course I could save time and just tell you.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 3:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It's a storygame Jack - your plans are always subject to change - there is no escape.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 4:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yeah, I know that Lordy, but there is one specific thing that I want to happen that just won't work if I kill Larson. He has to live for now.

Otherwise, I'd have to rethink the rest of the entire tale.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 4:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It won't be the first time.

If voters had decided to leave Kagemusho in his cell back back at chapter 3, then it would be in a very different place now.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 7:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think a priest. A priest would most likely no more about the situation but there is a slight problem. Prejudice. Priests hate all things dark and Larson is about to become VERY dark. The mage will not be so reluctant to help but might make a mistake. Difficult to say but I'll go with the Priest, we might even be able to recruit him as a ally incase the undead thing comes back.

Thats my 2 cents anyways.
Also, I thank you in advance, Jack, you just removed my writers block.
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PostPosted: Fri May 05, 2006 7:13 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

You're welcome, DF.

King of Jungle here to help. Very Happy

Thinking about posting a synopsis on this story, as it's starting to get some length.
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PostPosted: Fri May 05, 2006 8:06 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lordy there are always three options.. just cause the poll is only two means nothing.. A tie we have as of this post, which can mean only one thing, a plot twist..

*head shudders.. an errant personality comes to the surface*
Nostradamos: I have looked into the future.
Zeitgeist: And what have you seen?
Nostradamos: the future
Zeitgeist: you dont say...
Nostradamos: worry not for the fate of Larson, there are many other more dangerous fiends that are of more interest before time ends.
*wakes on my back*
"what just happened?"

oh and Jack good on the synopsis we need one.
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PostPosted: Fri May 05, 2006 8:12 am    Post subject: Jacks Long awaited Synopsis Reply with quote

Jack just finished his synopsis, then his phong rang... hehehe sucker.. Fables for me. Smile

[quote=jack]Forenius is the lone survivor of a failed crusade against the lands of the wicked demi-goddess Lady d’Grorathia. He is captured after a ferocious skirmish with her troll shock troops.

Defeated, he approached by her and nearly seduced in his cell. She nearly seduces him, but instead offers him command of her armies in return for a simple favor: he must slay her current general, Lord Jeryon and his minion the alchemist Alestro.

He soon discovers that Jeryon is in fact the world’s oldest living grey dragon but with all that age and power also comes the curse of blindness. He slays the servant, disposing of the beast’s guide and then kills it too, tearing down a large section of the Lady’s castle in the process.

The hero awakens in a well furnished room, where once again, the temptress offers herself to him and Forenius almost succumbs to her whiles but at the last second is granted a vision from the gods as to her true plan. Knowing that her purpose is to murder millions to impress her father, the god of murder and plague and to gain divinity for herself while leaving a mortal progeny behind spawned by no other than he, the paladin seizes a rapier from the mantel and stabs her, but to no effect.

In horror, he flees, escaping the fortress and heading out for his homeland. He is forced to stop for a short time in an eerily abandoned city, which ages before was single handedly wiped out by a vampire known as Damek.

The knight is preparing for his last stand and heroic battle with the forces of evil when he discovers both a suit of pristine golden armor and a magical portal. He leaps through the teleporter and is promptly back in his homeland, but is arrested on the spot and thrown into prison as a traitor.

The Lady and her host arrive not long after, their ruckus awakening the sleeping vampire, who forms an unholy alliance with her, but making it clear that he will not hesitate to kill her if necessary. Forenius begins to come back around in his cell, forming a bond with his cellmate, a half elf bounty hunter known as Larson.

Escaping from the prison, the duo head right back in to gather their belongings after they discover that the enemy legions are in the city, unaware that they are entering the vampire’s den. They slay massive numbers of ghouls on their way to the armory, where all their gear is currently locked up at.

Finally reaching the armory, they are offered the services of a barbarian named Cynyr the Devout and his enchanted hammer, Thunderer, which he claims speaks to him. They politely decline.

Not long after they don their armor gather their supplies, they are attacked by Damek. During the struggle, the undead villain bites Larson, but is stopped when is struck by Cynyr’s hammer, who returned to help them. He is promptly killed with a fist through the brain.

As the nosferatu is distracted with this, Forenius is spoken to by Thunderer, and seizing the moment, strikes Damek full force with the magical mallet. Defeated, the vampire vanishes in a cloud of bats.

Larson has only three days before he becomes undead but luckily, Forenius knows of two men who were working on a cure for the disease. One is a mage in a small hamlet outside the war torn city and the other is a priest hiding somewhere within. Who does he seek out?
[/quote]


Last edited by Zeitgeist on Fri May 05, 2006 3:49 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostPosted: Fri May 05, 2006 8:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Whatever. At least the synopsis got up there. I'm cool with it.

Just thought that it would be a good idea. Now you can all refresh your memories or, if you're just starting, just start there if you don't want to spend the time to read the previous 11 chapters (although, Id have to say that you're missing out).
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 1:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Alright, I'm up and I just have to warn everyone that the new chapter is about to be up.
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 1:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 12- Dissent

Lifting his friend in his massive arms, Forenius prepared to take his leave of this terrible place. He tossed the comatose Larson over his armored shoulder and scooped up the mighty hammer, Thunderer. Looking down at the twisted remains of Cynyr, he rendered a rough salute with the weapon in respect of the fallen warrior.

“I am truly sorry that I have not the time to properly take care of your mortal shell, but, I hope that amongst the gods, where such great men certainly reside, that you continue to lend us your aid,” The knight said in eulogy as he dropped the raised arm and affixed the weapon roughly to his belt.

On his way out, the paladin grabbed his sword and began the long walk.

……………………………….

The Lady sat in her lofty room, high above the chaos and turmoil that raged within the city. She silently turned through a book detailing various military tactics and weapons, doing the best to educate herself as a leader of her now increased army. Dawn had begun to break, rending the sky outside her balcony a plethora of reds, oranges, and purples like some genius madman at work.

An unnaturally cold breeze slammed shut her open window and the shadows deepened. Emerging from the shadows was a form she’d come to recognize far too easily for her tastes.

Nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from her studies, d’Grorathia asked, “Isn’t it past your bed time, unholy one?”

Sneering, Damek rendered one question, “Why?”

“Why what, darkest of darks?” The demi goddess asked as she turned a yellowed page.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was more than one? I wasn’t ready for that.”

“I’m sorry, but if you look into my eyes with that terrible look that you so often employ, you will be able to see that I am not lying when I say I had no idea,” The red haired witch responded, shutting the leather bound volume and glaring into the vampire’s violet eyes, inviting him to probe her mind.

Which he did of course. Seeing that the woman told nothing but truth, he withdrew from her mind, leaving her feeling more than a little violated.

“You’re a bastard. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” The grinning nosferatu mocked as he merged once again with the darkness.

It was not surprising that on some level, the Lady found herself hoping that against all odds, that Forenius would somehow slay this foul devil which had to torment her was it?

………………………………...

Stealing a horse was a simple matter, but getting past the enemy army was not. Forenius had to beat the horse until it ran as nothing before, but still only barely outrunning the trolls.

By the time he reached his ancestral estate, it stood upon shaky legs, breathing heavy and sweating. He wasn’t surprised in the least when it dropped dead not long after he dismounted.

The estate of the house of Petrus was a barren stone fortress high above the city, looking down like an avatar of justice upon the wicked metropolis below. It was surrounded by a low timber wall and staffed only with a small auxiliary of mercenaries and armed peasants. Obvious from the state of things was that the family had fallen upon tough times in recent years, and that the Great Crusade had only helped that process along its merry way.

Bearing Larson upon his back, the downtrodden knight trudged through the now torrential downpour that had begun just as he’d exited the city walls. Immediately, he was confronted by a watch stander who had not recognized the young noble with his thick beard and war weary eyes. Needless to say, he’d changed much through the past months, having had seen enough death and destruction for a lifetime.

Raising his troubled brow just as the lightning flashed, recognition dawned across the pikeman’s whiskered face. Apologizing, he ushered the warrior within the walls without delay.

Ignoring the greetings of all those who knew him, Forenius rushed into the great doors of the hall, his only concern being the welfare of his friend. Finding a couch of the right length, the soldier laid his compatriot out upon it.

“Where is my father?” Seeing no response from the servants provoked the anger of this young man, whose hand flew to the Thunderer with almost no thought.

From the back of the assembled throng came a female voice which he had known since he was born and had missed greatly.

“That is unnecessary, brother,” His twin sister, Valonia, said, soothing the beast that raged within her brother with just those few words.

She had always had this effect upon everyone, even in childhood, often playing peacemaker between Forenius and other children when his hot blooded nature threatened to start a scuffle. She had the same wise, kind eyes of her brother, but also with a heavy degree of innocence, making her beautiful, if just for her captivating brown eyes, not to mention the flowing dark hair that hung below her flawless waist. The rest of her body was perfect as well, but it was unfortunate that the girl knew this, making her virtually impossible to bed.

The stone gaze of the crusader immediately softened when it fell upon his sister, his homesick eyes becoming moist. Hurriedly turning away, he spoke.

“I… I have journeyed far and battled much, Valonia.”

“I would doubt it not brother, but who is this that you have brought us?” She inquired, showing more than a little interest in the half elf warrior that lay before her.

“He is my friend, my confederate, and should be considered a brother by all rights and intents. He may have just but recently laid down his life for me. But we have no time for this. Simply care for him and have him moved to my quarters, yes?”

Nodding, Valonia complied, summoning three of the brawnier house servants to move the injured man. Carefully, they carted him back to Forenius’s old room.

Turning his recently dried eyes upon her, his heart now fully soothed by the presence of one so dear, he asked, “Where is Father? There is something I would ask of him before I must continue.”

“Brother, I know not how to say this, so, I shall be frank and honest,” Valonia spoke as if some great sadness were physically bearing down upon her, “But our Father is dead.”

………………………………...

Jad-Bal-Rhun sat before the small fire, cursing the wind, the rain, and all the elements with the exception of the flame that warmed his icy troll bones. He spat phlegm a good three feet and turned his beady eyes upon one of his clan.

“Why are we here?” He asked, finally breaking the silence of the band of troops.

Looking up at him with broken eyes, the other trolls spoke not, the yellow orbs in their heads just telling him what he knew: they were just as disgruntled and unhappy as he.

Rising to his feet, the green goliath pulled his blanket tight about himself and spoke again, “Why are we here, brothers? Why do we follow a female into battle? Why do we accept meager rations and pay just because our chieftains say so?”

His reply was shrugging shoulders and a few more of the rebellious rabble gathering about him.

“We are soon replace by these new ghouls anyways. So why should we stand by and die for someone who uses as no more than crude pawns? Why don’t we forge a new way, a way for us? A way good for your children back home rather than making our leaders fat on their thrones?” He expressed with great sweeping motions, both he and his audience were borne away upon the wave of passion that they all felt.

Agreeing, they pledged their loyalties to this new leader, sealing both the pact and their fates with blood. In the glowing light of the whispering flame, they plotted until early the next morning when the fire was but a memory.

………………………………...

Forenius arrived on the outskirts of the small hamlet not ready for what lay before him. The gates were drawn shut, conscript archers lined the walls, and an army of bandits sat ready to attack. Apparently these knaves, rovers of the borders, worthless scum to a man, had decided to take advantage of the empire in its time of troubles.

It was unfortunate that Forenius must pass through this hoard to find either of the men he sought, as they both were within this small town that sat besieged. Apparently, the priest had been paying a visit to his lifelong friend, the mage, and now they were both trapped in the snare of an unknowing enemy. Looking down the hillside upon the encampment, the knight began to assess his options.

How was he to rid the settlement of such a menace in the short amount of time he had?
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 1:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, simple D- Point...

What's a fast way to rid himself of these bandits?

Does he sneak around and assassinate their key members?

Stroll up and challenge their leader to a deul for leadership of the host?

Or other?

Have fun discussing this one, cause there's a lot of different ways to go with it, I'm sure...
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 9:57 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Being a paladin, I'd expect he'll either try to take on the whole group of them, or challenge the leader to single combat.
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 11:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

nice chapter jack.. hmm noble paladin, that title hasnt been working for his benefit of late. since he has wisdom in his eyes might I suggest he tries a new thing. Sneaking.
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 3:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

come on come on come on!!!! new chappy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mad
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 3:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Glad you like it, Meanie. It'll be a few days before the next chapter, as I stayed up almost all last night to write this one. The poll will be up in a couple of days though. Don't be a stranger and feel free to vote when it comes up. Smile
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 6:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

dont need to tell ME that! Cool
ill vote whenever i feel like it, but it better be up in a few hours or i might miss the poll( you know cuz of camp)
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 7:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Behold! We have the poll, at the behest of our new reader, Meanie, who has to vote before camp.

Vote away, my friends.
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 7:09 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I voted for single combat, because it's certainly Paladinesque, and stands a higher chance of success that trying to take on the entire camp single-handedly.

And, as I got the first vote, I'm winning - fancy that.
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 7:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

ehhe theres no way anyone can make this a tie now! Very Happy
i mean, its 100% challenge the leader!
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PostPosted: Tue May 09, 2006 3:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

lordofthenight wrote:
Being a paladin, I'd expect he'll either try to take on the whole group of them, or challenge the leader to single combat.

although he has the battlefield tactics and experience needed for a frontal assault, his decisions lean more toward a diplomatic battle, and not a all out onslought. i say he challange the leader.
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PostPosted: Tue May 09, 2006 4:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Welcome to the story and the city, Luris!

Glad you're likin my little epic so far. Hope to see some cool stuff from you in the future. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 7:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL.still winning Very Happy
guess you've got no choice eh jack?lol.100%(6 votes) on fight the leader...lol! Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 9:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, I got caught up on your story Jack, and I must say it keeps getting better and better... Smile

I agree with everyone else, challenging the leader is the way to go... :nod:

-Jess
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 9:50 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Woohoo! Welcome back, Jess. Long time no see.

Good to have you back on the tale. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 3:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL! its 7 vs 0 votes now! LOL! Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 6:23 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks Jack, good to be back! Smile I guess I really do have ALOt of reading to do. :nod:
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 11:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

You're welcome for the welcome. Confused

But anyways, if you like Larson on here, he has his own story called Larson, Bounty Killer (for which he is up for an IFy for as best character, yeah!).

You might want to give it a read, as from what I've been told, most people think it's even better than Death.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 12:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'll be sure to read it once I catch up on the other SGs I've been following, I'd rather go through and read the chapters than read the synopsis... Smile
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 4:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jack_D.Mented wrote:
Welcome to the story and the city, Luris!

Glad you're likin my little epic so far. Hope to see some cool stuff from you in the future. Very Happy

i got absorbed in it from the beginning . and i hope my input helps continue a great story.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 13- Dawn

Hoisting up his lance, Forenius spurred the mount and made his way down the hill, armor clanking the whole way. It did not take him long to cross the grassy field, and within a few seconds, he was in the front of the bandit encampment.

A sleeping sentry awoke with a start, and raising his pike, asked, “Who are ye?”

The paladin did not even dignify this with a response, instead just whipping his horse into a charge and aiming his weapon for the guard‘s hairy chest. The man’s toothless mouth dropped open as he realized what was about to happen one second too late.

Blood spurted from the gaping wound from which the spear sprouted from his torso and the man’s rough scream brought some life into the resting highwaymen.

Rushing out, buttoning his pants, the man that was obviously the leader of this ragtag brigand army inflated his chest, attempting to look important and frightening. It obviously didn’t work.

“Why are ye here, paladin? Might we be encroachin’ on yer property, perchance?” The rotten toothed thug asked mockingly of the knight.

Forenius simply continued to sit astride of his steed, not making a sound. The horse shook its mailed head a bit, obviously distasteful of these men.

“Well, tell me at least why ye’re here. Do me that one ‘fore we yank ya down offa that pretty horse and skin ya alive.”

The crusader slid down off the beast and marched up to face this foe. He could almost smell the man’s rancid breath, which stank something like garlic and spoilt milk.

Smiling, the criminal asked, “Perhaps ye’d like ta negotiate?”

Raring back, Forenius struck him in the face with one steel coated fist, breaking the robber’s jaw in three places and busting his nose.

As the dirty peasant looked up at him from the ground, coughing blood, the warrior finally spoke.

“I don’t negotiate with scum. I bring not gold to your coffers nor virgins for your bed. I bring you death. Get up and let us duel, you disgusting filth.”

Reaching out, the brigand was immediately handed a sword by one of his servants, who was pushed away as the blade was drawn from the scabbard.

Forenius drew his claymore from behind his back, the long clean steel shining a vibrant blood red in the dawn light in eerie foreshadowing.

The bleeding outlaw, enraged and out of control, rushed toward the knight, brandishing his weapon like a peasant. Raising his great sword high, the noble took a high guard and parried the attack with ease and knocking the enemy off balance.

Shouting, the immoral man screamed in frustration and began to hack wildly at his opponent, sending glittering sparks of his inferior blade flying through the air each time the professional blocked.

Eventually tiring of the game, Forenius twirled with his weapon locked against that of his foe, nearly disarming him. As the fool attempted to regain his grip, the knight swung about with a blow that nearly severed the man’s left arm, exposing bleeding raw tissue, muscle, and clean white bone to the world.

Tumbling with the impact, the serf fell to the ground, dropping his sword.

Forenius wasted no time, falling upon him almost instantly. He hefted his wet blade high, slinging yet more blood, and struck downwards in a shining arc that cut the thief’s head clean with one blow.

Picking up the rolling cranium, the crusader held it high to all those before him.

“This is your leader and this is your fate if you are to challenge me. I’ve fought worse things than all of you could ever imagine and I will not tolerate your insolence and filth upon my land! You are all but a blight and I would gladly see you all hang, if it wasn’t that I had use of you,” He spoke, visibly curling his upper lip in distaste at the last bit.

Tossing the head aside, he raised his dripping sword and pointed toward the gathered men and shouted, “Swear your oath to me! Give me your fealty, your honor, what of it you have that is. Fighting men are needed now and I’ll not waste you if you’d rather not dangle at the end of a rope.”

One by one, the outlaws took a knee, and following the example set by Forenius, took a vow to the knight, swearing by the gods that they would follow this man until death if necessary.

Upon it being done, the warrior sheathed his blade and looked at the stained faces. Muttering, he whispered just loud enough for the closest to hear, “Who knows? If you follow me, you may yet see heaven.”

The former second in command of the band approached the adventurer as he mounted his steed.

“What would ya be havin’ of us, Master?” The nervous man asked, unsure of his new commander.

“Go to the west until you meet the forests. Turn south. Climb the hill. You will have reached the Petrus Estate, over which I am lord now.”

Reaching into a small pouch, the hero removed a coin and flicked it to the bandit, who failing to catch it in his anxiety, fumbled to retrieve it from the ground.

“Tell them that Forenius has sent you. Be gone by sunset. I’ll be along not long thereafter.” Nudging his mount, the protagonist began to gallop toward the city gates.

The sentries above, having seen the earlier display of arms, opened the portcullis without hesitation after only a few inquiries were answered.

Riding in like a triumphant army, Forenius was welcomed by the townsfolk, who cheered and tossed roses at him, their young girls begging for his favors and asking to bear his children.

He was not interested by this celebration nor the offers of reward and charity. Instead, reigning in at the town center, he waited for the roar of the unwashed masses to cease long enough for him to speak. But no matter how long he sat astride the noble beast with a dour expression spelled across his face, the accumulated throng would not cease their shouting.

Finally, growing frustrated with their childishness, the champion removed the Thunderer from its place upon his belt and raised the hammer high into the air. Heeding the voice that spoke to him from within the mystic weapon, he willed for lightning to strike down upon the statue of the town’s founder that towered above him.

And it was so.

The white bolt scratched across the clear blue sky and smote the stone figure from on high, cracking it cleanly in twain. Crumbling, the idol collapsed in a heap of rubble.

Silence prevailed and Forenius was given the opportunity to voice his mind.

“I need two things. The first is a simple matter and may easily be resolved. I need a mage, a specific mage. He was working upon a cure for the disease of vampirism.”

At the very mention of this illness, the townsfolk backed and shied a bit, like a scolded dog, fearful of this stranger.

“I have it not, but it is for a friend in dire need,” He continued, soothing their frayed nerves a bit with this tidbit of information.

Piping up from the back, a young man spoke, “Arwain the wizard, you mean? Why he’s but three houses down from this very spot you’re standin’ upon.”

Leaping down from the platform, the liberator began his walk to the spell caster’s residence.

“And what would the second thing be, your greatness?” The young man questioned once again.

“Every man older than sixteen capable of holding a sword outside these gates and ready to march in three hours time!” The crusader shouted over his shoulder.

……………………………..

Valonia lay yet another cold rag upon the half elf’s flaming brow, hoping that the fever would break soon. He had lain restless and sweating for far too long. To see such an obviously powerful man rendered as a child by such a foul thing as vampirism filled her heart with sorrow.

She had sat with him with no sleep as of yet, refusing to be relieved by the maids nor even the local priestess from the chapel. She was ragged and tired, but she was damned if her ward, this man who had saved her brother’s life, would fall to such a sickness.

The young lady was startled by a sudden voice behind her, whispering into her ear. Turning, she saw her nursemaid from her childhood looking down upon her with those always sad pouting blue eyes of hers.

The kindly old lady laid a hand upon her shoulder and Valonia grasped it in her own frail delicate fingers.

“Nanny, what are we to do?” She asked, taking a look at the plump old woman leaning on her rickety old cane with begging eyes.

“Take care of him, watch out for him. Make sure nothin’ bad happens, dear. Pray that your brother finds the cure,” She replied. Pursing her wrinkled lips, she asked, “Why don’t you let me take this watch, hun? You look so dreadfully beat…”

Staring into the elder’s eyes, Valonia said all she needed to with one look that told all.

Shaking her head, the sitter gathered her shawl and waddled out from the room, but not without leaving one final warning.

“Best watch yerself. When he comes outta that, yer gonna ‘ave a man on yer hands, honey,” She laughed, knowing exactly what the girl was thinking.

……………………………..

Having arrived at the magician’s household, Forenius beat upon the door with gauntlet covered hand, impatiently waiting for a response.

He knocked for another five minutes to no avail when he became resolute that something was wrong.

The crusader drew his great sword and began to hack away at the door, eventually reducing it to splinters. Kicking in the remnants, he burst into the foyer, nowhere near ready for what waited.

What he saw there would stay with him for the rest of his days.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hope you like the new chappy. Cool decision point, eh?

Pretty much wide open on this one, guys. What does Forenius behold in the chamber before him?
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

very nice!

I think he should see the magician on the ground, dead, with some gory stuff thrown in for good measure.....*throws rotten eyeball**

~holds breath~ Shocked

*geddit?
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jeepers. I will have to think on this some!

Good chapter, but Paladins, I mean. Got to hate them. Wink
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, Forenius is less paladin and more like a Knight Templar.

He's got the whole religous devotion and vows of chastity and obedience thing too. Hence why he was so fired up to go riding off on a crusade.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jack_D.Mented wrote:
Well, Forenius is less paladin and more like a Knight Templar.

He's got the whole religous devotion and vows of chastity and obedience thing too. Hence why he was so fired up to go riding off on a crusade.


Arg! That's even worse!! Surprised Wink
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Found bob on china here Very Happy

C'ren man, got any ideas to what he might see?
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 8:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thought you'd think so.

That's kinda why he was freaked out by the thought of puttin it to the Lady.

It sounded so good, but it's soooo bad to break your vows. Tempt

I think I would have... umm... faltered.... in my devotion much sooner and much worse than my hero.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 9:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL~~ Very Happy

same here jack! Laughing
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 9:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oh my, great chapter... But I have no ideas what Forenius should happen upon... :hm: I'll leave it up to you guys to continue discussing it and then give my thoughts...

Great writing Jack! Wink Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 11:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think he should see a coffin, in the centre of the room. The mage he seeks has succumbed to vampirism himself. Oh, he knows how to cure it now - but why should he? Now that he is a vampire, he realises how much superior they are to humans. Faster, stronger, able to change shape... why on earth would he want to change back?

So Forenius might have to defeat him to get him back on-side, to give the cure to his friend Very Happy

Good chapter Jack - although I think the hordes gave their fealty a little too easily. Might have been more believable if 3 or 4 more leaders-in-waiting had challenged him to a duel, been royally reamed and then the rest had decided to live rather than challenge him Smile
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 2:12 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, my thoughts echoed that of Shady's, so therefore damn - that was my line.

Plus I thought that although untrained, the barbarian leader would still be experienced, and probably fight dirty, making the pair fairly evenly matched in the end.
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 6:27 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

How about some sort of Evil mirror image of himself, fornicating with some dead animal? Or something equally outrageous to his sensibilities?

I mean...

Quote:
What he saw there would stay with him for the rest of his days.


Has to be fairly major. One more vampire isn't going to do it.
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 6:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

chinaren wrote:
Quote:
What he saw there would stay with him for the rest of his days.


Has to be fairly major. One more vampire isn't going to do it.
''

I f5 China, has to be something quite major :nod:
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 7:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Maybe an image of Larson, who he believed far away, draining the life od the serving girl?
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 12:36 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Maybe he sees the wizard dismembered in gruesome ways, and the potion, remedy thing burning the body.
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 6:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I like Lordy's idea :nod:
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PostPosted: Tue May 16, 2006 9:05 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Great ideas, guys.

I got the poll up for all of you now. Enjoy!
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 3:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

i voted he should see himself, evil. he's seen vampires. the mage altered or dead, too typical, although it would be a good scene.
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 3:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oooo I can't wait for the next chapter! hehehe.... Only a matter of time now that the polls done! Very Happy...
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 11:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Suprisingly, i didnt vote for my own idea. I voted for vampire larson.....
OH CRAP! IM THE ONLY VOTE!
dammit......guess we're gonna see evil forenius now, eh? Surprised
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 3:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

We sure are. Who wouldn't want to see an evil version of themselves, see just how much potential he had and can never fufill.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 7:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oh well. Evil Forenius is all good, as long as the story continues. Wink
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 5:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 14- Desecration

Looking ahead, Forenius saw standing there, in wicked spiked armor, crowned with a horned helm, a figure cloaked in the darkness of a cold void. The endless shadow engulfed the mighty warrior’s face from the eyes, the only signs of any expression were two shining green eyes that glowered menacingly from midway of the mass.

The air crackled with the sheer energy and might of the evil that surrounded the paladin and a chill radiated outwards, prodding the small hairs about the back of his neck into a standing position.

He didn’t know how exactly, but the devil was smiling, smiling at him in some horridly offending smug manner that radiated the confidence of one wholeheartedly sure of himself.

As nearly impossible as it was to draw his eyes from the towering wraith, the knight was eventually, with some great effort, to look upon the sawdust floor. Upon it lay the mage he sought, his torso cleaved into two clean halves, blood sprayed over the wall and seeping out from the prone corpse’s wound.

All the hero could hear was an awful roaring noise, a terrible wail that nearly deafened him. Later he would discover that it was his own scream, a war cry summoned from the depths of his bitter soul.

The sound and the fury nearly driving him mad, the unthinking crusader drew his great sword and struck at the foul man with a burst of pantherish speed, his movements nothing but a blur to the bystanders.

To his shock, an easy parry followed from the calm and collected foe, who now laughed jeeringly in his face only half a heartbeat before planting a mail covered knee in the protagonist’s groin.

Groaning, Forenius stumbled, his eyes bulging and veins protruding from his sweaty brow.

He was quickly planted on his back by a harsh blow from the enemy’s sword hilt.

Now he was lying upon his back, helpless like some giant steel clad tortoise that had just recently been upended. Fumbling, he reached for the hammer fastened to his belt.

Shaking his helmed head, the blackguard drew a similar weapon from his girdle and heaved at his helpless opponent’s grasping fingers.

Steel crunched and bones snapped and once again, Forenius howled.

Whimpering in rage and futility like a well trapped wolf, the cavalry man snarled at the steel clad menace, who even now advanced upon him, drawing his mercy dagger and preparing for the fatal thrust.

A spark set off in the nobleman’s eyes like a powder keg as this generated an idea that was more than likely his saving grace. On his own torso, he had his own gladius. As the heretic neared, the knight eased his hand down and freed the blade from its sheath.

When the infidel leaned down for that last taunt, Forenius rammed the dagger in between two ribs, piercing the evil man’s black heart and ending his wretched life.

As he tossed about as death’s embrace took him, the dastardly rival’s face jerked from the obscuring shade and into the clear daylight as it gasped for the last breath.

Seeing the assassin’s features shocked the virtuous swordsman to his core, drawing from him a gasp that rivaled the fading life’s.

Never once had the young man expected to see his own face etched deep with the throes of oblivion.

Like staring into a cursed mirror, Forenius was confronted with the reflection of his own madness as this blood spattered behemoth was none other than he.

“By the gods…” The soldier muttered, shell shocked as the body tumbled over and onto the floor sending up slight puffs of dirt and dust.

……………………….

He twisted and turned, fading into the underworld from the endless depths that stretched before the blood throne.

His eyes downcast, he approached the master. Kneeling in supplication, he waited to be acknowledged.

“You have done well for me this day, servant. Though you lost in the that battle against the crusader, you have planted deep in his skull the seeds of corruption,” The seated giant spoke, tapping steel jacketed fingers on the armrest.

“Yes, my master. I was born for dying and death, all for the added glory and luster to your great name,” The supplicant groveled.

“Of course, valued one, but your respite from the realm of men shall not be long lived, for I have a message for you to deliver, Trickster,” The lord spoke, a scroll shimmering into existence from the ether in his ashen hand.

“To whom, my liege?”

Smiling, the god of murder, plague, and pestilence said only three words in reply, “My mortal daughter.”

……………………….

Shoving the plate covered corpse to the side, the fighter resumed his mission to seek out the cure for the disease most foul that his confederate and friend Larson had been infected with.

He began by patting down the cold body of the spellcaster, finding only a note and a key. The key was an oddly shaped contraption that showed signs of a magical nature, perhaps used for a lock warded by complex spells and traps.

The note, scrawled on wrinkled parchment in shaky hand, read,

… and then it came upon me. Adding the root extract from the velites cacti, I was able to synthesize a cure for the illness. It is unfortunate that my compatriot the priest had dropped from the project under the impression that any and all who used or took part in this wonderful experiment were ‘tampering with nature’s fabric’ and would become ‘cursed by the almighty as a result.’

I find such talk to be the words of fools, and thought such a logical man as he would not fall subject to those ramblings of wild eyed elders and shamanistic madmen. I wish he could have been present for the test, as I made a shocking discovery…

The cure is not truly a cure! The user retains all the positive effects of vampirism in that he still has heightened speed, senses, and strength, but is remedied of all the negative effects of such a disease. He is relieved of the weakness to sun, silver, and fire. If administered to one who has yet to fully succumb, it also prevents the bloodlust and inevitable madness that almost always follows.

Truly, such a thing cannot be a curse, but instead a blessing!


Folding the note carefully, the knight stored it in a pouch upon his belt with his coins.

The adventurer then held the key up into the light of a nearby window and began to look at it, hoping perhaps for some clue. He’d been in deep thought for some time, considering not only the location of the elixir, but also the ramifications of its use and how the body in the corner could be his own when he was standing perfectly alive and well in his current location, when he was startled at the sight of a young villager, topped with a leather cap and wielding a curved kukri popping up in the doorway.

“Sire, we stand ready,” the youth reported suddenly, breaking both silence and thought, causing him to drop the key.

His eyes followed the precious object and he fumbled for it in a failed effort to catch it. It fell upon the ground and rested but a second, as to his surprise, it began to spin about in a small circle like a wagon’s wheel.

The traveler bent down to examine the phenomenon up close, when it began to slow, one end glowing like a pointer. Holding his breath in silent expectation, the noble watched as it aligned itself perfectly with a rather conspicuously plain segment of wall.

Picking up the glimmering article, he advanced toward the area to which it indicated, one hand on Cynyr’s hammer. As he neared, the panel began to flash and blink, revealing for but a few seconds an arch door. During one of the visible phases, he inserted the key into the waiting slot.

Slowly, the hatch swung open and he entered the wizard’s domain.

……………………….

Larson’s eyes burned as he opened them, the light nearly blinding him and forcing them right back to closed with a slight muttered curse and a grunt.

Valonia stirred across the room, awakening from the first sleep she’d allowed herself for days. She started and ran to her patient’s side, skirts swishing.

As he reopened his eyes, the half elf began to wonder if he was delirious and delusional or if the most beautiful woman he’d even seen in his life really was standing over him, petting him like a small child.

“Excuse the prior language, miss…” He spoke, his voice dry and gravelly and his throat begging for refreshment.

“V… Val… Valonia,” She responded, stuttering with excitement.

“Thank, you, Valonia, for taking such apparently good care of me, but I just have to ask two things.”

“What?” She asked dreamily, staring deep in his eyes.

Unsettled by this blatant show of infatuation, the bounty killer shuffled a bit and asked, “Are you real?”

Giggling, she replied, “Of, course, I am Forenius’s twin sister.”

Sobered with this thought, Larson gulped and immediately shoved the perverse thoughts he’d been entertaining for the past few seconds right back where they came from.

“What’s the second thing, Larson? Its Larson, right?” The dark eyed brunette pressed, leaning in to where the swashbuckler could pretty much taste her sweet scent.

Shoving back onto the divan a bit further, he asked, “Um.. Uh… You guys got any beer?”

……………………….

Jad-Bal-Rhun contemplated the next move of his little insurgency which had flourished and taken root in the troll ranks like some wild weed.

He could feel the time nearing in his bones and they would have to make their move soon, before the Unholy One created more of his rotten children. They would soon be outnumbered and overwhelmed by such forces and totally replaced.

This troll had become dedicated to insuring the survival of his people and there was no way in all the hells that he was going to let them become obsolete due to the impure influences of a single undead.

But the leaders and chiefs were blinded to such things by the golden trinkets and slaves given unto them by the sorceress. They had given him no option but to dispatch them, silently and swiftly.

There were few of his own that he could count upon for such actions, as most of them were but savages that knew little more than rape and pillage. This needed a silken glove and not an iron fist.

Such were the thoughts of the revolutionary as he sat upon a stump by himself, stroking his dandruff flaked goatee when he saw the rider coming on fast.

It was a man in dark armor, his face hidden by a black hood on a small fast mount that raced like the wind toward the encampment.

He was obviously a messenger of great importance. Jad wondered what he carried and who exactly it was that pulled the strings of the lady that led them, as she was no longer guided by the dragon.

It was a mystery worth solving and he saw potential to do so at this very second as he turned his head and looked at some of his chancrous rid brethren that hunched over a dead rat, tearing it to pieces.

Did he summon them and ambush this man or let him go in peace?
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 5:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok.

Hope the newest installation is up to standards and that you guys have some fun with the D-point!
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 6:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good story Jack.

As much as I like to see the bloodshed and senceless violence, this time I am gonna have to pull for the survival of the messenger. If I am correct in my assumption that he is sent to the lady from daddy, there must be something of interest to be heard there.
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 10:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Based on Jad-Bal-Rhun's knowledge of the situation, yeah, he should ambush and attack the messenger. Let's see what he can do when he has some useful information in his meaty hands Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sat May 20, 2006 7:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

WOW, that was a great chapter. And, as to what should happen, i think the messenger should live.
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PostPosted: Sat May 20, 2006 9:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm not sure what he should do... I actually read this chapter right after it was posted, but I didn't reply because I was wasn't sure as to what plan of action he should take...

Luris, why do you think the messenger should live? :hm:
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PostPosted: Sun May 21, 2006 12:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

well jess, most all messengers have some form of verbal message, which may or may not be written. And not everyone has to die for a story to be good, now if the messenger is beat to a bloody pulp, inches before death, thats cool.
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PostPosted: Sun May 21, 2006 12:50 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

That's true. :nod: Most messengers do have a verbal message... And you're also right about ppl not having to die for a story to be good. Smile
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PostPosted: Sun May 21, 2006 10:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good one Jack. As for the messenger, I think he should be left alive...for now.
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PostPosted: Mon May 22, 2006 7:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, my gentle readers.

We have before us a poll.

Let us vote...
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PostPosted: Mon May 22, 2006 6:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I say let him live, not because of any strategy of the trolls. but because it would be much more interesting of a read to have the lady D. hear the message firsthand from a healthy messenger. And if I am correct the messenger is the same etinty as the evil Forenius, so a troll would have a problem killing him.
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PostPosted: Fri May 26, 2006 12:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

i f5 zeitgeist.

Maybe in some point in the story(maybe the ending), you could make Larson and valonia marry or something...lol! Laughing
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 4:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 15- Discontent

Smiling as he rode by on his horse, the rider gained with what seemed a magical burst of speed, reducing both he and his mount to a blur. The wind from the passing ruffled Jad’s filthy locks and stirred up the cloud of insects that followed him constantly.

Even if Jad-Bal-Rhun had decided to try to attack the man, he would have accomplished nothing. It was almost as if the shadow clad one had read his thoughts…

………………………………..

Sitting at the forefront of his conscripts, Forenius raised his sword high and pointed in the direction of his estate.

“For’ard march!” Cried the centurions and the army took a giant step as one, surging in the direction indicated.

Feeling himself swell with pride, the paladin looked down upon his horde. He had done this and it was a beautiful thing to see. An army on the move.

An army just for him.

………………………………..

Larson had been chatting with Valonia for some time now, and he had to admit that she was quite a charming lady. He found himself hard pressed not to flatter nor flirt.

She, however, was dead set upon such a course and carried on as if she had every intention of courting the half elf.

By this time, he was running out of topics to change to and it was becoming a fierce battle with his primitive urges that demanded that he bed her at that very second.

Several times, he’d been forced to bite a knuckle and pray for strength.

Finally, he gave in just a little when she offered a small back rub.

Of course, he thought. Why not? It couldn’t hurt…

………………………………..

Arriving at his home, the holy warrior dismounted and hastily gave his army their orders for bedding down and fortifying the area under the command of his family’s guard.

He took off his helmet and held it by his side. Smiling in triumph, he thought it would be best to surprise both Larson and his sister with such good news.

Arriving at the chamber he knew them to be in, he set both helm and weapons on the table outside and silently eased the door open.

All he could see was his sister over the back of the couch that he approached from behind.

Rage began to color his vision as he noticed that she was obviously astride of someone’s form, grinding and pushing.

Then he heard Larson’s voice command, “Ohhh… oh yes… A bit harder. That’s the spot.”

Screaming, he kicked the sofa and it teetered over, falling with both bounty hunter and sister.

Valonia tumbled across the room, rolling until she hit her head on the fireplace.

Larson was pinned beneath the heavy piece of furniture for but a second, as he shouted, throwing the divan off himself and through a window as if it weighed nothing.

His eyes glowing a vibrant red and his mouth curled in a wicked snarl like an angered tiger, he faced Forenius, growling, displaying the feral nature that had come with his disease.

The paladin gave not an inch, staring deeply into the shining orbs. He extended his hand and Thunderer came flying to his summons from the other room, knocking a hole clean through the wall.

The tension built and both soldiers readied themselves for battle, drawing back, preparing to strike vicious blows.

Valonia’s shaking voice broke the air of chaos and soothed both of them for a second as she screamed.

“Stop! What are you doing?” She said, tears clouding her luminous eyes, as she walked to her brother, a small hand held upon her aching head.

“I come to save his soul and the only way in which he repays me is to deflower my sister? Is that some twisted part of elven hospitality, Larson?” He asked the bounty killer, spraying spittle.

Larson’s canines grew, turning into the fangs of a vampire as he shook with rage.

“Calm down, love,” The lady asked as she took the hunter’s hand in her own.

He visibly calmed and began to return to human as his gaze fell upon her.

Turning her flaring eyes upon Forenius, the noblewoman asked Forenius, “And what is wrong with you, brother? You think that I am so free with my favors as to grant them to any adventurer that you bring to our doorstep?”

“This one is gifted with the silken tongue,” The tight lipped crusader commented.

“It was but an innocent back rub! Look at him! He still wears his greaves, untampered with!”

Looking down, the knight noted that this was truth. He was ashamed and embarrassed.

“And even if I did decide as so to give my body to him, it would be my decision and mine alone!” She shouted, finishing the argument by seizing Larson’s face and kissing him before storming away.

Larson began to grin, but was interrupted by Forenius roughly ramming a fist into his chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” He spoke as he was fishing into his pouches.

Drawing out his vial, he said, “Here’s your cure. Drink it and be done with the negatives of this curse.”

Popping out the cork, Larson downed the whole tube in but one gulp and fell to the ground, shaking.

His body seared with pain as the antidote coursed through his veins, removing all outward hints of vampiric infection.

Forenius watched the seizure with a bit more pleasure than was healthy, but it was only a few seconds before his joy was shattered into a thousand pieces as a messenger approached from the outside.

“My lord, there comes an army from the city,” The filthy man reported as his eyes were slowly drawn to the twisting figure on the floor.

“Who is it?” The noble asked.

“Uhh… umm…” The servant asked, his gaze drawn by the spectacle of the alchemical exorcism.

Grabbing the man and shaking him, Forenius brought him back to this world as he shouted, “Speak, pawn, speak!”

“’Tis the king and his forces,” The shocked man replied.

“His Majesty died on crusade with me, you must be mistaken,” The lord protested.

“No, not that emperor, his son, the heir,” The sniveling messenger explained.

“That useless whelp? Gods help us,” Forenius said more to himself than anyone as he grabbed up his gear and prepared to greet the usurper.

Storming outside, the knight reluctantly rendered the appropriate honors to the sodomite, bowing his head low.

This man was a coward, not even man enough to follow his father, a pathetic minion to other men, and the worst of his line. He fancied himself an artist and a renaissance man.

What he was was nothing more than a fool, a man obsessed with the idea of his own divinity.

When they were alone in the council room, Forenius waited for the flamboyant one to speak, as was custom.

Wetting his painted lips, the thin lad finally came forth his words, “My cousin. You are the closet left in relation to me, but you are militant and filled with religious fervor. I mean, you are some sort of holy monk warrior, am I right?”

“Yes, your highness,” The paladin responded with downcast eyes.

“You have taken such terrible vows as chastity, poverty, and obedience. Now you are left alone with an estate to run that you can never own. Your sister’s name had to be put upon the deed, am I correct?”

“Yes, sire.”

“You should abandon your vows. At the very least be absolved by them by the church.”

“What?” Forenius spoke, interrupting the emperor and raising his eyes in an unspeakable break of custom.

Ignoring this, the dandy carried on, “You should also disband this army and discontinue this foolish crusade of yours against the Lady d’Grorathia.”

And then he stood, now showing the ruler no respect whatsoever.

“Settle down, fiery one. I have negotiated for peace and part of it was that you get rid of this appalling army that you have amassed and that you…”

Cutting in, Forenius was no longer able to contain himself. “What? That I should what?”

“That you join the Lady in marriage.”

“No.”

The refusal was final and traitorous, a complete breech of chivalric code and fealty on the behalf of the knight.

“What? You dare refuse me?” The weakling laughed in his face as he began to glow a bright red.

“You can’t do that. I’m the son of heaven and you must obey,” The king replied with a casual wave of his hand as if it would have some magical pacifying effect on the furious warrior.

“Really? And what if I think you have been forsaken? The gods and heavens have abandoned you?” Forenius spat.

“That is treason and you are already on thin ice, so watch your words for you are easily replaceable, cousin.”

Forenius didn’t even know he’d done it until he saw the shocked, puzzled look of pain on the crowned one’s face. Looking down, he noted the dagger imbedded in the man’s midsection and his blood weeping from the fresh wound.

Leaning forward, he whispered into the dying man’s ear, “No one can replace me.”

Sliding to the floor, he protested, “But… but… I’m the emperor.”

“No. You were the emperor. My war isn’t finished yet,” Forenius replied as he kicked the man over.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 4:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, guys. How was that for a twist?

D-Point.

What does Forenius do now to cover up that he just killed the king?

Does he just blame it on assassins, or what?

Gimme some ideas, people.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 4:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nice ending lines there Jack!

Although...

Quote:
removing all hints of vampiric infection.


Awww, come on! Not a vampire. I nearly stopped reading right there.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 4:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

aye, another good chapter. Liked the killing rage that the good paladin found himself in. And china had a point in his quote, although not the one he intoned, however you are already mending that error. Liked the angry kiss that the good heiress graced larson with.

For an idea, might I reccomend, draining some blood from the sodomite emporer, and hiding that wound and placing a few bite holes in his neck. That is as good an concealment as any.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 5:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

We already knew he was turning into a vampire - it happened two chapters ago remember? There is nothing wrong with vampires Chinaren - when will you get that into your orange head?
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 5:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

lordofthenight wrote:
We already knew he was turning into a vampire - it happened two chapters ago remember? There is nothing wrong with vampires Chinaren - when will you get that into your orange head?


Nothing against them per se. They are just severely overused and I tend to turn off when I see them, or read them as is the case here.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 5:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Maybe. I personally feel that's because people just use them too often (as I realise you just said...) but don't develop what they can do properly.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 7:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lol. Is Forenius blind? Friendly back rub one second, and enraged (not to mention a bit daft) paladin-facing-vampire scene the next.

Forenius also seems to have a bad memory. I mean, Larson did save his life. Paladins are so arrogant sometimes.

Hehe... stupid king got stabbed...Hehe. What is it with those royal guys in fancy clothes, thinking they're all divine and all that meaningless crap. No offence against royal people, but those cone heads should really get a life.

but now Forenius has to deal with treason...hmmm.

The bit where it said all traces of the infection is a little wrong, since he still keeps his amazing strength, speed, etc etc.

I really like this chapter. Hope to see more awesome reads about Forenius (and Larson and Valonia)


~holds breath~ Shocked
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 7:36 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Meaning Of Fear wrote:

The bit where it said all traces of the infection is a little wrong, since he still keeps his amazing strength, speed, etc etc.

I really like this chapter. Hope to see more awesome reads about Forenius (and Larson and Valonia)


Jack changed that part. And yes, where can we get some pics of Valonia. Or anyone for that matter, being an incapable artist myself I like to see the works that I cannot create.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 7:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I've got one of Forenius the First up at the begining, right at the synopsis.

My friend took back his camera, as you know, Zeit, but if not for that, I would proabably do so.
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 9:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

ok, now lets discuss the dp.

I have a few ideas:

1. Accept the marriage thingy and turn evil. It'll be an exciting read.
2. To hell with marriage! Go to war and kill as many of the bastards as you can!
3. Maybe somehow sneak into the lady's fort and destroy her, once and for all.
4. Accept marriage, then devise a plan to kill the lady.(possibly after Forenius has...*ahem*...had some fun)

~holds breath~ Shocked
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PostPosted: Sat May 27, 2006 11:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Interesting development.

If he's a cousin to the emperor, maybe he should just baldface it out and claim the throne. Tell the leader of the King's army that the Emperor had betrayed his country, sold them into the clutches of a demon and a vampire, and that it was his duty to kill the King and, as his closest relative, claim the throne.

Forenius has an army too. Perhaps the forces won't want to come to blows. You've got to think that a General of the King's Army is not going to want to follow a brainless little peacock with delusions of grandeur. And if Forenius can get the armies onside, then he has the leadership of the Kingdom and the ability to hit back at the evil ones Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sun May 28, 2006 3:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tes, become King and then marry her - Bringing Peace and Order to the Galaxy.
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PostPosted: Sun May 28, 2006 3:54 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ummm... You realize marriage is kind of outside of not only his vows, but his character as well?

As is peace and such.

He wants to keep fighting until they're all dead.

I mean, why would he marry her when that's what he just killed the emperor for suggesting?
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PostPosted: Sun May 28, 2006 3:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Unimportant detail.

Maybe he comes to his senses, and realises that the only way he can prevent her from conquoring all is to marry her, and give in peacefully - therefore creating a better world.
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PostPosted: Sun May 28, 2006 3:05 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I f5 what Shady said. :nod:
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 1:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, he can't possibly resist the attraction of marrying the lady, hence turning to the path of the dark side.....*star wars music*
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 03, 2006 8:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, although it is pretty much an impossibility that he would do so, I put up the option of marry/ alliance.

I just hope that with this many options that there won't be a tie. If there is, I'm killing you Meanie for suggesting it. Very slowly... and painfully.

Sorry it took so long to get it up there, but I haven't been capable of doin much except for sittin on my butt since the dentist put me on these meds.
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 03, 2006 8:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted and winning! But im the only 1 who voted....
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 04, 2006 7:21 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted to cover up the truth, and marry into Evil.
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 04, 2006 8:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Even though i voted for truth and marry, i don't really care. I just wanted to see em marry.

EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! EVIL~!

(Dammit! I am becoming more like lordy! Surprised )
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 05, 2006 1:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey - by your own admission you stole your name off me, the least you can do is use me as a role model.
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 08, 2006 12:01 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Umm.... Okay.

*Makes a clay model of Lordy*

Hey! This actually looks real....

*Rolls it along the ground*
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 9:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

paitently awaiting the next chapter...
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 18, 2006 4:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I read the Conan comic books when I was growing up as a kid, this story reminds me allot about them.

Keep it coming.
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 4:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey, guys. I'm gonna try to do a chappy today. I'm in Washington in a day early, and I may have the time to crank one out. Sorry for the wait guys.

Glad you like it Starwalker. It's actually kind of my little tribute to the original Conan stories by Robert Howard. I love them and one of my main aims was to capture that feel. Glad to see it noticed and appreciated.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 10:07 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 16- Descent

Forenius knelt down upon one knee and picked up the bloodied crown in gauntleted fist. He closed his eyes and prayed to the gods for forgiveness for the sin that he’d had just committed. Using his over hand, he scooped up the limp corpse of the fallen emperor. He made his way down the mirrored hall and out to the foyer.

Upon reaching the doors of his estate, he kicked open the doors and beheld before him a mighty host, consisting of both his conscripts and those of the empire and the treasured horsemen bodyguard of the king. Drawing up to the steps, he tossed the body down them and watched with eyes of ice as it tumbled down to the feet of his childhood friend, Vitellus, current master of armies and grand strategist.

A murmur passed through the assembled horde and the paladin raised his mighty blade and pointed to on high.

Wetting his lips, he spake, “This wretched thing wished to be a king. I think not. For to be a king, one must first be a man.”

Nods and chants of agreement echoed.

“Would you have been led to battle by one with no more intellect than a mewling infant? Would you be butchered as easily as cattle? Much like my companions and brothers in arms who were slaughtered under the asinine rule of this fool’s father?”

Yet more cheers and claps followed, by now, even a smile spreading across Vitellus’s stern face.

Forenius extended his arm with the crown at the end. “It is not right for one who has not earned the right to rule to rule. But, I have, however, earned the right. I have bought this crown in blood and I ask your permission to wear it as your heir to the throne.”

Chants of his name, paired for the first time with the suffix, “the First” rang out from the throng.

The knight took a knee and shouted, “And then by my authority and upon the love of my great people, I coronate myself, Forenius the First. Notice that I place this crown upon my own brow and claim responsibility for my own actions as emperor.”

A great cheer rose up, led by none other than Vitellus himself.

Rising as emperor, Forenius the First drew both sword and hammer and shouted, “And I rule by sword and hammer, forging our great people’s destiny anew in this, a new age!”

The revelry continued and the shouting grew louder as word of the great warrior’s ascension to the throne spread like wildfire.

………………………………

The god of murder, war, and plague rested upon his throne, rubbing between his eyes with a calloused hand. He had known what had come to pass and was greatly bothered. Reaching down, he unsheathed a large ebony horn that curved and arched in impossible ways.

He raised his great bearded lips to it and blew with all the might in his immortal lungs, causing a wave of sound to rise up and shake the very foundations of his home beneath the mountains. Volcanoes spewed forth their fiery froth and the ground split, swallowing people and entire homes whole.

The Trickster, clad now in shaded armor that mocked even the night sky with its darkness, rode forth on a large steed that panted smoke and shot blue chain lightning from it’s baleful eyes.

A legion of swarming green eyes, sparkling with impossible amounts of magical energy loomed behind him in the eternal darkness of the hell that stretched for an infinity in every direction, flickered to life, awakening after eons of rest.

The dark lord strutted up to his minion, bearing the horn, which he handed over slowly, sure to be careful with the instrument. He reached over his back and removed a shimmering white blade that crackled with the souls of a great number of fallen foes.

The wickedly curved scimitar was a fearsome sight to behold indeed, with its hooked blade that jutted forth from the bone handle like an eagle’s talon. It reflected in the eyes of the servant like a crescent moon and his mouth parted in awe of the weapon as shaking hands accepted it with a reverent bow.

The throaty hoarse voice of the immortal issued forth and he declared, “And let it know be known that the Great Hunt has been called and that it shall be incumbent upon all my servants to pursue this Forenius the First to his grave.”

………………………………

Lady d’Grorathia was troubled as well. She had followed her father’s advice to seek peace with that foul little whelp of an emperor, much to the chagrin of Damek and his unsustainable bloodlust. The ploy had failed, in as so far as garnering her a husband in the one mortal whom she deemed worthy of fathering the next member of her line and that was greatly disturbing.

It was not often that the machinations of a god fell flat on their face, that something so inconceivable occurred that even one of them did not see it coming.

She had to contemplate carefully upon her next move. What would this holy man do as a king? Would he pursue the war, the crusade?

Undoubtedly. He was in love with the blood, the tears, and the adrenaline as he could never love a woman. He was a man driven to send her dreams crashing down.

She was unready for what broke her concentration, as Damek dropped abruptly into the room from the ceiling.

“Have I not told you to never disturb me?” She shouted, green eyes shining.

Waving his pale hand as if to ward off an insect, the nosferatu dismissed her as his own sharp words cut the air.

“I care not for your objections, petty godchild. I just wanted to show you what following your idiot of a father’s advice has brought to you this day, other than a dramatic increase in your greatest foe’s power.”

“And what is that?” She snapped, impatient with the fiend and his condescending nature.

Turning to the side, he opened the door with a smooth gesture from across the room, using his ever increasing powers.

Three ghouls dragged in a beaten and bloody Jad-Bal-Rhun, his barely animated form saturating the carpeted floor with dark blood.

Flashing a fanged grin, the vampire said, simply two words, “A traitor.”

………………………………

Forenius’s first act as emperor was to summon all the great heads of the noble families, whose bitter infighting and vendettas had weakened his glorious land to the brink of collapse. It was they, who were descended from the great merchants and traders of old who held the power.

It had come in recent times that wealth and clout determined standing rather than valor or deeds on the field.

The way this particular crusader viewed things, the time for a change had drawn nigh.

A large mead hall had been set aside for the occasion and the barons summoned. Their entire families, servants, and staff waited upstairs in the lodging as they sat about a long oak table, debating and, as was their way in their petty greed, fought amongst themselves.

Not so much as a lull in the noise occurred in the room as the emperor entered, so little was their respect and so confident were they in their ill gotten power.

Advancing toward the center of the chamber, the king drew the hammer of his fallen comrade Cynyr and twirled it about for a second.

Without warning, he suddenly hefted the warhammer high and, with a loud cry, split the table cleanly in two, showering the assembled counts with splinters.

Finally, silence reigned over the area, as was proper in custom.

Pointing with the weapon, Forenius singled out a mink clad fool who cowered in the corner, his multiple chins shivering like some desert.

“You there!”

“M.. m…me?” He asked sheepishly.

“Yes. I must ask you, how many of you are there?” The soldier asked.

“Of me?” The fat one asked, glancing about, confused.

“Not of you, individually. Of you people. Of you covetous bastards that tear and rip at the very heart of this kingdom like a pack of rabid dogs?”

“I… I don’t know… Fifty seven?” He guessed.

Laughing, Forenius replied, “But you are a fool. My fief is ruled by morons and incompetents who can’t even count. There are but a great many more of you than that.

‘I am guessing that none of you truly know. There are too damned many of you. I shall take my leave of this coven of filth until you have a definite count and at least an inkling of an idea of how to bring unity to this land in its time of need. Summon me then.”

He turned and left, cloak flittering behind him. The large doors slammed shut securely and the bewildered rich men sat about, unsure of what to do.

Upon reaching the outside, Forenius took a short glance at Vitellus and ordered, “Seal the doors.”

“My lord?”

“Do not doubt me, old friend. Seal the doors,” The emperor repeated as he mounted his steed.

The doors were sealed and the general looked upon his ruler, uncertain.

“And, my liege, what of the barons?”

Forenius reached down and seized a lit torch. He tossed it upwards in a flaming arc that ended, bouncing upon the hay roof and igniting it like powder.

“Let them burn. For the love of my empire, let them burn.”

“And what of the state?” The wary weapons master asked.

“As of now, I am the state,” Forenius called over his broad shoulder as he rode away, bodyguard trotting along behind.

………………………………

The Lady stayed silent as the vampire explained how this troll had coordinated an entire revolution on his own, and had finally been apprehended, oh so conveniently by some of Damek’s own ghouls.

Uncertain whether to believe him, she pursed her lips and debated her various courses of action at this point.

She did not wish to offend her ally, as distasteful as he was, but she also did not wish to leave a potential insurrection unpunished.

Her vibrant green eyes locked with the pale yellow of the beaten troll’s and she exhaled slowly, worried as of to what her decision should be.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 12:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

oooooooo, brake the troll to her will and use him for her own nefarious deeds.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 1:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You know, normally the first ruler of a name isn't known as the first while still alive.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 5:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The key to that is "Normally".

Forenius is special. He kicks a** like that. Wink
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PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 5:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Poll should be up in a sec.

Sorry it took so long guys.

They've been workin my butt off here.
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 6:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Torture her privately.
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 20, 2006 12:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

A great chapter, as always, Jack. Very Happy

I have voted for the 2nd option, in which then the situaion was turned into a tie.... Ooops. Wink
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 27, 2006 3:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Right ok, I'm going with torture until her will is broken but in private, seen as torture seems to feature rather heavily in the options list Smile .
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 27, 2006 11:10 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 17- Dilemma

Jad-Bal-Rhun was beaten and bloodied, soiled from contact with the foul undead. He hacked and coughed, painful, broken things that were once ribs grating on frail, fleshy organs.

Lady d’Grorathia looked down upon him, her creamy skin shining in the pale moonlight that cascaded through the small chamber window.

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang loudly, awakening a pack of wolves that howled mournfully at the dirty red moon that hung in the sky.

Damek stood thoughtfully over in the corner, smiling slightly, enjoying this show. His fangs glimmered with saliva, obviously aroused by the coppery smell that lingered from that day’s fighting like a vengeful ghost.

Several minutes passed in almost complete silence, as even the ghouls held almost completely still, not even uttering a single moan or sigh. But, finally, wetting her mouth with a sip of wine, the lady slid lithely from her divan, straightened her dress, and spoke.

“Jad, I believe it is?” She asked, leaning down a bit toward the kneeling creature that even now refused to tremble, to shake, or to express his agony in any way.

Staring stoically ahead as if he were watching something a thousand miles away, the troll responded, “Yes.”

Damek snarled, and flying across the room without so much as touching the floor, he struck the defiant beast across the face, knocking loose a few teeth and splattering the tapestries with dark blood.

“You will refer to her as your mistress, your lady, anything, as long as it shows the respect due to immortals from cattle such as you,” He shouted, punctuating this remark with a swift kick to Jad’s already fractured ribs.

Barely grunting, the battle tested barbarian would not allow this fiend the pleasure of his pain. He spat a stream of poisonous blood at the nosferatu, a few drops actually finding their way into his mouth.

The vampire seized his throat, and gagging, shook like a sickly old man. He doubled over and began to dry heave, attempting to regurgitate.

“You bastard!” He gasped between ragged breaths.

Jad-Bal-Rhun merely smiled with broken teeth, yet more claret oozing from his mouth and dripping onto his bruised chest. A slight laugh issued forth from the swollen maw as the vampire, stumbling, ejected himself from the chamber.

“We shall conclude this lesson later, my young friend,” The angered shade threatened as he pointed a long, crooked finger at his newest foe.

After the oaken door finally slammed, the female returned her gaze to the bleeding monster that waited upon her judgment.

“I see you are still strong of will, my soldier. And I have heard of your deeds and acts of heroism upon the field. I may still have use of you,” She offered, seeing the chance for yet another powerful ally.

“As long as you serve that unholy thing,” He responded, jerking his head toward the direction of Damek‘s departure, “I shall not serve you.”

“Really?” She asked with a girlish giggle. “I think that that obstinate resistance will surely melt after a few days in the catacombs.”

This elicited a reaction from the warrior, involuntary and momentary as it was, his blackened eyes widened and his jaw slacked in horror.

The catacombs were an unspeakable place of ancient evil, left behind many eons ago by a forgotten race, wiped from the planet by the gods themselves for their heretical ways and affronts against nature. To be bound there was to be subjected to the degradations of literally thousands of angry spirits that still lingered in that place of pain.

Smiling at the recognition of this name, the Lady gestured and snapped, “Take him away… to the alchemist’s hole, if you please.”

“W…w… what?” The stuttering savage asked.

Laughing, the d’Grorathia replied, “Don’t you find it odd that Josephus still fancies himself a scientist even after three thousand years of death? He hasn’t had an experiment in some time now. Let’s see what he creates from a source material rich as you.”

………………………………......

Larson stood upon the ramparts, contemplating the future, the past, and in general, all the things which had happened about him in recent times.

It was at this time that he heard light footsteps approaching in the distance. He turned, and beheld Valonia making her way to him, seeming to almost float amongst the stars. She was beautiful, as always, and for a second, he secretly wished for her to be his. But, she was not only a mainlander and not a barbarian like he, but she was a noble, the Emperor’s sister, in fact.

Raising himself from his thoughts, he made his way to her. Looking into her bright eyes, he felt something new, something he’d never truly known could be within him. It was almost like looking into the gates of heaven.

At the same time, both of them broke the awkward gaze, not knowing that each was thinking almost the exact same thoughts.

Valonia was the first to speak, eager to break the cumbersome silence, “I worry for my brother.”

Larson added to this statement, nodding his head, “As do I.”

“As of late, he seems brooding, dark, and…” As she contemplated what word to fill into that blank space, she unconsciously eased toward the half elf.

Cocking his head to look down at her, the bounty killer asked, “And, what?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m just frightened for him. I want to help him, but I feel the future he’s writing for himself is a dark one,” The lady explained.

“Every man writes his own destiny. But who’s to say his fate is to be yours?” Larson asked.

“Yes, but I feel that I too will have a tragic ending,” She whimpered.

Larson, almost without realizing it, wrapped an arm around her slight frame and lifted her gorgeous face up to his own.

He whispered, “Not every ending has to be tragic.”

And then, almost instinctively, their eyes closed and the two drew together for a kiss, which stretched from the light peck that it began life as to a heated, passionate embrace that ended with them staring breathlessly into each other’s eyes.

Valonia, in an attempt to regain her courtly bearing and composure, removed some of her hair from her face that was being tossed about by the wind and said, “We shouldn’t have done that. It was unseemly.”

Larson nodded, still speechless, trying to avert his attention to something, anything else.

It was all for naught, however, for his gaze was drawn to her like a magnet and as soon as they locked eyes, they locked lips once again.

Little did they know that Vitellus, glancing from within a high bastion, should glimpse this precious kiss silhouetted in the moonlight.

This development, heaped upon the seeming madness of his childhood friend, was nearly too much to bear. He threw upon himself an overcoat, rushed down the stairs and to the stables.

Saddling his light mount, usually used for baggage transport, he rode from the courtyard, passed through the iron gates and over the small moat, and into the countryside beyond, attempting to clear his head. He needed to think, to process his thoughts and allow recent events to settle in.

Finally, his mount tired and panting and the first violet streaks of dawn beginning to shine across the sky, he breaked for a small meal and some light meditation.

As he sipped from his flask and gnawed upon the strip of jerky that he’d brought with him, the knight tried his best to bring some understanding into his world.

He’d heard that crusading changed men, and this was none the truer than with Forenius, who was now wrathful and angry, quick to lash out with tigerish aggression.

He knew that it was his duty to inform his liege, his friend, of this forbidden romance which had blossomed before his eyes, but he knew far too well how protective the paladin was of his twin sister. This Larson was a good man and a benefit to the armies and their morale. It would be truly shameful to lose him due to an angry outburst from Forenius the First.

As Vitellus relaxed his mind and unwound his aching muscles, he began to pray to his god for a solution to this tiring dilemma. He had tried so hard to live his life as a good man with a nearly faultless moral compass but this problem was too much for he alone to decide upon.
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 27, 2006 11:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

What does Vitellus do, folks?

Up to you.

Hope you like the new chapter.
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 27, 2006 11:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

That's an easy one - kill Forenius Smile . Then install his sister and Larson as King and Queen. Then you have a stable kingdom with good rulers. Of course he could just have Forenius thrown into a deep dark dungeon for ever on the grounds of insanity. Or find Forenius an endless quest across some distant mountain with unimaginably good rewards at the end. Whatever, he needs to find someway for Forenius to have an accident or to be permanently removed from ruling some other way as to have him kept in charge will ultimately lead to tradgedy and the downfall of the Kingdom. they may well win the war but in doing so will have installed a new tyrant at their head.

Anyway there's some initial thoughts on where it could go Smile .


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PostPosted: Thu Jul 27, 2006 3:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nice chaper Jack.

Well, he could kill Larson or the sister too. Surprised

Er, otherwise speak to Larson, let him know what he saw and ask him what he intends to do about it.
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 28, 2006 2:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Why don't me just get Larson to tell Forenius the First? I mean, Larson did save his life and all that. If FOrenius wants to kill Larson anyway, get Larson to challenge Forenius to a duel or something.

From Forenius the Paladin to Forenius the First and now maybe FOrenius the dead. Razz
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 28, 2006 3:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hmmm, perhaps he should tell Larson first,then let Larson confront Forenius. But then Larson might well end up duelling Forenius as Forenius will probably fly into a rage on hearing the news. I know duels are all the rage, battle of the strongest etc to decide who rules a kingdom but inreality a good Kingdom is ruled by a stable mind as much as brute strength. Therefore Forenius may well win (and probably will win) any such proposed duel and bring down the Kingdom in a reign of bloodshed if Forenius tells Larson - which could be fun butnot the best move for the Kingdom. If however he just arranges for Forenius to
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fall of the map
(quote is from Lords and Ladies, used by Jack I think...) it's much simpler and the much more likeable and sensible King and Queen can take over the throne.
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 28, 2006 5:05 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think you mean :

Quote:
Fall off the map.


Wink
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 28, 2006 9:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Woops, yes that would be the one Smile .
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PostPosted: Sat Jul 29, 2006 12:01 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
if Forenius tells Larson

i think you meant: if vitellus tells Larson.
i think someone should just kill forenius, don't know who - but it would make it better if he was dead Smile.
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 30, 2006 12:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow... we're havin some good discussion on this one!!!

Awesome.

So... It's lookin like our poll options are...

1) Tell Forenius

2) Confront Larson/Talk to him about it

3) Attempt to Assassinate Forenius

4) Attempt to Assassinate Larson/Valonia

Sound good? Any more ideas? Did I miss anything? I'll probably post the poll tommorrow...
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PostPosted: Mon Jul 31, 2006 10:55 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok.

Well, I gave it a day and seeing as there were no new ideas or suggestions, the poll is up with the mentioned options.

Hope you guys enjoy voting. When I get the chance, the next chappy will be on its way.
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 04, 2006 3:23 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted for telling larson.

Quote:
Therefore Forenius may well win


I dont quite agree here, since Larson still has his amazing vampire powers. He could probably just go KAPOOMF and punch and voila, Forenius go bye bye.
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 06, 2006 10:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Kill Forenius, he has been alive for far to long. And anyway is not that the goal of the god of war? Side with him at this one junction, Kill the king, and praise be to the children of Larson.
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 18, 2006 5:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, then... We have a three way tie...

Hmmm...

Well, I've got the next chapter of this brewing in my head, so I'm gonna give this just a little while longer till I write it, in hopes that I won't have to vote on my own story.
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

No option won, so... here's the new chapter...
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:08 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Where? I can't see it? Wink
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 18- Decimation

Vitellus twirled a lone flower in his fingers as he contemplated a matter that could shape the fate of his country, nay, not only that, but of his world.

A frail wind stirred at the petals, then, picking up, made his shoulder length hair flail about like a frantic child. Turning his head in curiosity, he began to survey the landscape, seeking perhaps a storm on the horizon.

His response was engendered in a mighty gust of brimstone tinged air that tore at his eyes with the roughness of a desert sandstorm.

Shouting a bit in surprise, he covered his eyes and once again, glanced skyward.

His gaze was just in time to catch the horrific sight of the moon, which, until a few seconds before had been sheet white, turn a bright crimson, drenching the land in a bloodlike haze.

Having finally been pushed too far, the brave knight screamed fell to the ground, his mind seemingly fractured beyond repair. Vitellus crawled, seeking shelter from the oncoming apocalypse beneath a rotten log, crying like an infant, as the sound of a thousand baying hellhounds drowned out even the thunderous beat of his own heart.

His prayers amounted to little, if not nothing, as his once noble steed was torn to shreds by the blood thirsty dogs of war within mere seconds.

Then, suddenly as it had begun, the terror subsided, the wolves were gone and he was alone.. Or so he thought.

As Vitellus poked his head from beneath the encampment, he was confronted by a thin black shape of a man, his face ever hidden behind the shroud of eternal night.

The warrior, not even thinking of his mighty sword at his side, began to retreat back into his hole and the safety he’d found within, when something within this stranger’s radiant green eyes captured him.

“Oh, the Gods…” The stunned soldier muttered.

Smiling, the Trickster countered, “Now, that title, I’d not give myself. I‘ve not the ego for it.”

The daemon reached down and offered a thin hand, continuing with a slight chuckle, “But, I suppose I could always be your Messiah.”

Anxious and frightened, the madman reached outward hesitantly.

“Take my hand and I’ll show you where to go,” The grinning apparition promised.

The two hands clasped and history was written, a prophecy long forgotten nearly fulfilled.

………………………….

Wise men across the map had noticed the grim portent of the lunar shift, and knowing it to be a sign, scrambled like mice to assemble all the great volumes of the Arcanum Magicka, a treatise written many eons ago by a mad saint.

Forenius sat silent and brooding upon his great throne, anticipating nothing but the most dire of news from his astrologers and shamans when the most meaningful information he’d obtained thus far was brought to him from a most unexpected source.

Larson, gesturing one of his significantly flamboyant and over dramatized bows that always brought forth a polite amount of laughter from the ladies of the court, sprang up quickly and spoke plainly.

“My Lord, my friend. I know of this portent of which you worry,” He spat forth. Several of the elder magicians chattered, giggling like small girls at the presumptuousness of this half breed.

The King, always ready to heed to advice of his friend with an even heart, raised a mailed hand and the laughing mages were promptly ejected from the chamber by a rather sour faced guardsman wielding a wickedly sharp hooked bill.

“Speak on,” The sovereign requested.

The bounty killer closed his eyes, and breathing deep, assembled his words carefully.

“It, quite simply, is the herald of bad times,” The red cloaked rogue replied.

Leaning forward, his interest piqued, His Highness gestured for his companion to carry on.

“As you may, or may not know, my mother was a priestess of high regard amongst the elven people. It is the same amongst them as it is for you Hor‘ati,” Seeing that nearly none of those in his current company knew the meaning of the Elvish term, Larson coughed, “Short lives, quite literally.”

“Uh, knowledge of prophecy is a essential for any of the clerical occupation. Amongst her books and teachings were mentions of a day when the sun would sink as it did upon every other, but the moon, when risen, would be stained crimson with the blood of millions to be spilt. A war unlike any other would rage and consume all who fought in it, mind, body, and soul. A king…” Catching himself, he stopped, realizing the implication of his words.

The emperor rose, demanding, “A king? What of a king, my friend?”

Glancing about, Larson protested, “Perhaps not here, in this public forum, your Majesty.”

“No, here. I am the great ruler of my people and I’d have them know,” Forenius returned.

“A king would die to end it,” The half elf muttered.

Sitting back upon his seat as the whispers rippled throughout the room, the paladin asked, “And certainly, there would be more this tale of woe?” And then, more to himself, “Of course, there is always more, isn’t there?”

“Yes. It would be the darkest of times, the closing chapters, the death of an age, if you will.”

Looking up and slowly licking his lips, Forenius simply asked, “So, this is the end of the world, is it?”

Not missing a beat, Larson replied, “Yes, my lord.”

………………………….

The Lady had had enough. She, being not only the ruler of a country and a woman of noble birth, was the child of a god.

So, after much contemplation and waiting, she decided that the time had come for her to take considerable action to remedy this thorn in her side.

She had originally planned to make use of assassins, but, being strong minded and independent by nature, she realized that no simple henchman would be able to accomplish the assignment before him.

And, she knew as she always had, that the best jobs are the ones you do yourself.

This in mind, she carried herself haughtily through the fortress under the guise of official business, perhaps even discussion.

None of the simpletons that stood the watch would anticipate such a brazen attack in that time exactly between dusk and dawn, that magic hour when the eyelids suddenly heavy and the day draws close upon its end, nor could they know what awful tool of treachery lay tucked securely between her heavy breasts.

The three determining factors of all strategy lay in her favor… speed, surprise, and violence of action.

It was smiling, and knowing that nearly nothing could go against her that d’Grorathia creaked open the massive oak doors and crept along the silent halls with padded feet.

Finally, after nearly half of an hour of winding corridors, she neared her objective, his all too familiar odor registering with her cultured nostrils.

As her lithe form slid between the last set of obstructing entryways, she reached down her blouse and drew from it’s sheath a serrated blade coated with the tears of seraphim, as dark and cold as night itself.

Raising the dagger high, she prepared for the fatal plunge into her intended victim’s chest cavity.

The thrust fell straight and true, piercing his heart and splattering blood across her pale face while yet more seeped onto the floor.

Thinking quickly, she seized a goblet from across the room and ran back, the glass in hand.

She managed to obtain the last hearty cupful of the precious plasma before it was wasted upon the sewers and the pathetic creatures within.

Lifting the cup high, the Lady d’Grorathia toasted her fallen foe, “To you… Damek…”

She drank deeply, and, gasping, dropped the container, which shattered on contacted with the hard ground. The demigoddess trembled and shook, collapsing as pure power coursed through her like electricity in her veins.

Screaming, she writhed like a madwoman upon the stained stone even as, unseen in her peripheral vision, a lanky white hand snaked its way up from within its coffin, and fading eyes stared upon her in the moment of weakness.

Damek, barely clinging to life, snarled at the traitor and began to force his way up onto shaky feet as he stumbled toward his former ally.
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

There ya go.

So... in his last secongs of life, his blood and strength ebbing away... what does Damek do?
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nice chapter Jack!

Tough one. Try to kill her, whilst at the same time screaming for medical aid. Not that that is likely to help.

Unless...

Perhaps he has some sort of emergency plan on standby. Like a magical incantation that, in times of dire emergency, transfers his entity into another body? That'd be kinda cool.
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 04, 2006 5:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Go into torpor, and sleep through a few centuries while everyone thinks you're dead.
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 10, 2006 9:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

He beats the $%$# out of her then dies...but maybe calls for medical attention afterwards.
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 16, 2006 2:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Methinks damek should pull the dagger out of his chest and drink her blood. mybe that will help him recover a little bit. if that doesnt wor, atleast he'll have had a good last meal.
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 24, 2006 12:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, friends, and I have brought forth for your enjoyment, a mighty poll upon which to vote.

Have fun.
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 10:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 19- Destruction

Damek hissed, his now dry lips curling across his yellowed fangs. The enraged scream that worked its way up from deep within his ancient lungs gurgled out behind a flow of thick brothy black blood that issued from his gaping mouth. He lurched toward the flailing demigoddess as his red tinged eyes rolled deep back into his head.

Weakly, she made an attempt to fend him off, but at this transitional faze somewhere between life and death, she was lacking in the strength to knock back the ancient evil.

Shaking, he extended his long pale arms and wrapped his talon like fingers around her throat, intending to choke the life from her.

Her struggled gasps as his iron grip tightened brought a smile to his gruesome visage, black veins now visibly pulsing beneath nearly transparent skin.

Something in her eyes, something amiss clued him in on something not quite right behind him, however, as the desperation seemed to vanish almost instantly from her features.

He turned, but before he could complete the rotation, massive hands seized him and pulled him into the darkness.

Damek screamed as a gigantic black form hefted him high overhead and tossed him like a child’s plaything through the sheer stone wall of the mausoleum in a great cloud of dust and debris.

The vampire tumbled several times before coming to a stop against a large stone with a sickening thud.

Daylight cascaded across his weakened form, scorching him painfully as he shrieked, realizing that this was truly the end to his unholy existence, watching his extremities crumble into pale white ash before his very eyes.

The Lady d’Grorathia slowly pushed herself from the ground, gradually adjusting to the extraordinary new senses and perceptions that she’d recently acquired.

Looking outside into the terribly bright light, she first confirmed the demise of her hated foe. Then, smiling, she raised her green eyes to her savior and smiled.

“’Tis good to see you again, Jad,” She commented.

…………………………..

Larson looked at his friend, Forenius the King, emperor of the strongest land in the world.

“Are you serious?” He questioned, his head cocked to one side.

“Yes,” Forenius replied, stretching out the map on the table before him.

“But no one from this side has been there in years, almost a century,” The half elf protested.

“Yes, my friend, but your mother came from the opposite way. She was born there and made the journey here. You have their blood in your veins,” The paladin countered.

“But she was an exiled elf. She was no longer wanted. What kind of welcome and I to expect? The half blood bastard of a reject?”

“Well, the elfish touch to your features makes you a lot less likely to be killed like damn near every other adventurer that has attempted to establish contact with them over the past 95 years,” The king returned.
The bounty hunter had to admit that the lord had him on that one. He couldn’t fault the knight’s logic.

Sighing in defeat, he shrugged and asked, “Can you at least give me men?”

A rare smile tugged at the corners of Forenius’s haggard mouth, his rugged features twisting into a short laugh.

“Of course. The whole point of this mission is for you to make it back. It’d be no use for you to die on the way,” The ruler explained.

He turned and donned his cape once again, slinging it over his pauldrons and fastening it to his armored breast. As he exited the chamber, the crusader called over his shoulder, “You shall have an escort of five, the bravest and most worthy you can find, yours to choose. Speak of this to no one and leave in the night.”

…………………………….

The next morning, Forenius stood aloof, high atop a balcony as his troops assembled beneath him, beginning the march to the capital city, which he fully intended to reclaim. For far too long, the battle had raged on, small skirmishes between local peasant folk and the remaining military units and the monstrous legions that had, using a magical portal that Forenius himself had discovered, breached the mighty walls.

From his gathered intelligence, the king was able to ascertain that this was by no means the full brunt of the army. Instead, it seemed to be more of a threat to morale, a maneuver designed to break the will of the people.

The plan had backfired drastically, and they rallied in turn, inspired by the example of their great leader.

As valiant as their struggle was however, he knew that no guerilla force could last long, fighting from house to house with pitchforks and sledgehammers against the might of the savage troll mercenaries and the vicious ghouls that ravaged their lands.

And so, the grand army of Forenius the First marched to the eternal city and pitched camp outside it, preparing siege engines and ballistas to retake their own walls.

Unwilling to slaughter his own, the paladin has messages fired over the thick walls attached to arrows, warning all people still loyal to the empire to evacuate the area for the first two days.

On the third day, his troops growing impatient, the king prepared to join battle, when, suddenly, an idea came upon him as he watched small birds take flight from the rooftops in the early hours.

He dispatched men to capture these sparrows, while the main force was to bombard the walls, but advance no further.

Many senior advisors were confused by this move, but all was explained later, at dusk, when the avians were released to fly to their lofty homes, just now with burning embers in tow, tied to their feet.

As night set upon the waiting army, fires could be seen, starting then spreading, eventually engulfing the whole metropolis.

At the height of the inferno, catapults loaded with flaming barrels of pitch were launched high into the sky, accompanied by a hornet’s swarm of arrows, each streaking across the sky in vibrant flame orange as well.

It was nearly midnight when the charge was sounded and the ladders and towers were brought up and the walls were scaled. The fighting was extremely brutal, blood seeming almost to rain from the skies themselves as cornered trolls fought viciously, snarling like wolves to the last, never a one surrendering and ghouls gnawed and clawed at the assembled bodyguards, reformed bandits, and conscripts.

By dawn, with the exception of a few remote corners, King Forenius the First had reclaimed his capital, the smoldering ruin that it now was. A battered army, bandaged and bruised awaited him, noticing how he personally rushed to the forefront of the fight, taking most of the risk for himself and how he visited the most grievously wounded, granting them absolution and forgiveness in the next life as he heard their confessions as a man of the faith.

As word spread, his army began to grow and he became known as a man of the people.
……………………………

Valonia lurched again, heaving into the chamber pot. She was obviously very sick, sick with worry, sick with frustration, and also sick as in physically ill.

Larson had left several days ago, vanishing like a thief in the night, without so much as a word. Not even a goodbye or farewell, not even a kiss.

Shaking, the girl attempted to stow the putrid smelling container beneath her bed as she heard footsteps approaching.

As they drew closer, she sighed with relief as she recognized the awkward shuffle of her childhood nanny, here to check up on her as the old lady had so many times in the past.

She couldn’t worry the aging sister. Quickly, she attempted to stow anything that told of her sickness, and then, merely seconds before the door creaked open, she leapt back into bed.

The elderly woman’s voice crackled to her, calling, “Are ye alright my dear? Usually by this time, you’re up and about.”

Valonia forced a yawn and attempted to look tired. It didn’t take much effort. She’d not slept well without Larson’s arms wrapped about her these past nights.

Waddling on over, the wrinkled grandmother took a seat at the edge of the bed and laid a calloused hand upon the noble lady’s blanketed knee.

“Well, bein’ lazy gets you nowhere. Up and about…” She smiled, toothlessly as she motioned for her former ward to rise.

Suddenly, her nose twitched, sniffing at the air, almost like a dog as the nursemaid caught the scent of something odd. She sat back down and turned to Valonia.

The midwife grasped the younger woman’s chin and pulled her face close to her own.

“Yer sick, aren’t ye, child?”

Lowering her eyes a bit, the brunette replied, “Yes.”

“Good ye didn’t try to lie ta me about it. I can smell it on yer breath,” The lady explained, as slowly, a stunning realization dawned upon her and her features began to go slack with shock.

“Oh, no. Can’t be…” She muttered as she forced herself up from the bed and pulled her shawl close around her, almost as if she were physically cold.

Genuinely concerned now, the princess asked, “What? What is it?”

“I don’t know nothin’, so just be leavin’ me be,” The graying woman protested as she made her exit on creaky knees.

But she could go no further when a sob came from behind her, the sound nearly breaking her heart as the child she loved as her own began to cry.

“Wh- What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this? What happened to me?” Valonia asked, sinking to the floor, where her tears began to flow even more freely.

Turning, the antiquated nanny made her way to her charge and held her close as she had long ago, when the girl had first fallen off her horse. The aged lady ran a long finger through her adopted daughter’s soft brown hair, and sighed, replying, “There’s nothing wrong with ye, dear.”

Quieting down a bit, Valonia sniffed and responded with, “What?”

Looking down into the floorboards and grimacing for a second almost as if the coming words brought her great pain, the nurse said, “I don’t know a gentler way to put this other than… Well, dearie, you’re with child.”
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 11:07 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok... at this point, Valonia has several options.

I'd like to see some discussion on what those are and what she does.

Good luck and enjoy.
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 18, 2006 10:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
and


am is the correct word in this case, if my mind has not deserted me yet again.

Awesome chapter Jack, I seriously do not know how you do it. Very Happy

...Interesting idea, Valonia pregnant. Would the child have any of the kick-ass vampire powers Larson is supposed to have?

Wait till Forenius hears about this. Wink
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 29, 2006 10:25 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok... I'm putting the poll up here in a second.

The options for Valonia are as follows...

Tell Forenius?

Flee the country?

Kill herself?

Vote away, my friends.
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 29, 2006 4:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sorry Jack, I missed the chapter for some reason. Caught up now, but too late for discussion.

I voted for her to come clean. Tell all. I mean, what's the worst he could do? Shocked Wink
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 11:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 20- Dogs of War

Taking a deep breath, Valonia did her best to still her shaking hands, attempting to appear calm in the face of the imminent outburst.

He small porcelain hand contacted cold brass for but a second as she lightly opened the heavy door with a slight squeak of a protest issuing forth from rusted hinges. Forenius, anticipating attack, spun about, his hand already upon the hilt of the long sword at his side.

His demeanor relaxed, however, when he met the eyes of his twin sister. He stepped closer, and looking deeper into those deep brown eyes, he said, “Something is wrong.”

Not able to hold her façade any longer, the princess crumbled and began to cry, her beautiful young face ravaged by wild sobs and uncontrollable tears. She began to lean upon her brother, as she always had, since childhood.

He ran a calloused hand through her silken hair as he asked, gently, “What is this thing that troubles you?”

The noblewoman looked up at the paladin with eyes dripping with hot tears and whispered, “I have dishonored you, brother.”

A small smile played across his chapped lips as he replied, “Surely, sister. I doubt you have it in your purest of hearts to do such evil.”

The slight grin crept away as she whispered in a voice so low that it was barely audible above the crackling fire, “I am pregnant.”

The swallow that followed echoed louder than the whisper, as Forenius attempted to force back his own dark infuriation that even now beat upon the gates of his mind like an angry invader. Composing himself for what little time he had left before the inevitable outburst, he spoke rather gruffly, “Go, and give me time to think upon this.”

……………………………

Vitellus cracked his neck once to the left, and once again to the right, his eyes rolling back in pleasure and relief as he did so. Large wooden doors swung open before him, cascading light into the corridor, which unto this point had been black as pitch. One booted foot trod forward, followed by the next, crossing the threshold and carrying him toward his destination. Mounted animal heads from a thousand generations of champion hunters hung suspended from the walls above, snarling ferociously in their last, horrifying moments.

As he rounded the corner, he came upon Forenius, his childhood friend, his king… his enemy. A hand instinctively came to rest upon the hilt of his gladius, but relaxed as soon as he noticed the manner in which the paladin turned to greet him.

The emperor wore nothing more than a simple robe, which shimmered in hues of red and orange in the dim light cast by the smoldering torches. It was obvious that the order had been passed down as to not disturb him and it had been followed religiously.

He quickly half bowed, bending at the waist and, not waiting to be acknowledged, rose to his lord’s face. He wrapped to hands about Forenius’s head and grasped his face.

“My King, speak not. I am here to save you,” Vitellus spoke with the edge of urgency cutting through his voice.

A questioning look played across the warrior’s face, but disappeared as a howl shattered the fragile silence across the fog draped lands, echoed by a legion more, almost like a war cry that begins with but one man and ripples throughout the whole army like lightning.

………………………………

The Trickster, Lord of the Great Hunt, leaned back and sucked in a deep breath of the moist night air. His divine lips tingled slightly as they made contact with the frost tinged mouthpiece of the great curved horn that summoned forth the dogs of war. His lungs filled with air, swelling, until it felt they were near burst.

Then he blew mightily, and the deep throaty bass of the instrument rang out across the moors, giving life to what was moments ago harmless shadows. They twisted and writhed grossly with a snapping of bones and melding of flesh, transforming into the hellhounds of legend, so feared by students of lore.

………………………………..

Forenius, clad now in the hastily donned Lorcia Segmentum of a simple centurion, burst out the gate, flogging his white mare as her hooves pounded ferociously upon the hard beaten road. Vitellus was not far behind, upon his own painted steed and the elite bodyguard following.

They drew up in a small clearing, the ruby moon shining high overhead, staring down at them like the giant red eye of an ancient wyrm.

Forenius reigned up his steed and brought it in close to Vitellus, and asked, his breath quite visible on the midnight air, “And what is this I hear of assassins, of those in my own kingdom that would bring me to death?”

“Well, to tell you the…” Vitellus went to respond, but was cut off abruptly as a gigantic hellhound leapt from within the trees and fell upon one of the royal guard, spewing blood in all directions as it slashed with razor sharp talons and tore at his flesh with great fangs the size of daggers. The man had no time to even mutter a syllable of a scream, but this mattered not, for his brothers in arms next to him shouted loudly enough to compensate for his lack of vocalization.

The hyena like beast hunched over its fallen prey, covered in crimson, eyes glowing with immortal hatred as its back arched and its black lips snarled back over its shining maw.

Several more appeared from the thick mist as the warriors reached for their swords, nearly panicked to the point of routing.

Forenius, having seen worse horrors in his day drew his sword and commanded, “Upon them, men! Attack!”

Screaming as they spurred their mounts, the knights surged toward their foes, blades swinging in high silver arches.

Steel clashed with necroplasmic flesh and brimstone tinged the air as heavily as the scent of the blood of the fallen. The loyal soldiers made for a good fight, battling hard and cutting down many of their foes, but it was all too apparent that these were much more than ordinary dogs of war as more continued to materialize from within the fog and charge forward.

The Emperor, knowing that this battle against countless legions was hopeless, began to search for an alternate method of victory.

And then, to his attention came a figure in the darkest of cloaks mounted upon a steed seemingly crafted from the shadows themselves high atop a near hill. This stranger thrust and pointed about with a gigantic scimitar, very obviously directing the movements of the unholy horde with the weapon.

Vitellus, noticing this observation, rode to his lord and asked panting, during a slight lull in the fighting, “Does your majesty wish for me to pursue this knave and eliminate him in your name?”

Something within Forenius noticed something most familiar about this lone specter and desired to wage the battle himself, but another part knew that his presence would further boost the morale of his guard. As he looked at Vitellus, he considered another option. Perhaps the men would do just as well commanded by their general…
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 11:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, folks new chapter.

What will Forenius do?
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 11:50 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lovely writing Jack!

Send forth Vittles to attack this mysterious figure, whilst the rest of the gang distract the dark dogs of war.

Mmm. Maybe send one or two men with him, as fodder.

Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 11:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Aha! Our first response.

Awesome.
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 11:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

~Takes a bow~
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PostPosted: Mon Nov 13, 2006 2:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

No - hunt him down yourself, while letting Vitellus take command of the army.

It is his job afterall, and there's no way Vits will be able to take on the leader of the horde.
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 10:08 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Awesome chappy jack. Very Happy

I agrre with Lordy.

BTW, have i been away for a month yet?
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 25, 2006 10:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey
Great stuff all around im loving it. i think that Vetillus should be set on the pursuit with a few men loyal to him. Usually im a fan of getting things done yourself but got a bad feeling no idea why....
anyways
cant wait to hear more
cheers
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 26, 2006 3:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, this is tough...

Will their be more action hunting the thing or staying behind? That's the real qeustion.

Let vittles die. I hate him anyway.
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PostPosted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 6:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chase after the thing. Bound to be a blood bath somehow. Meheheheh.
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PostPosted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 6:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

If it's bound to be a blood bath, let vittles die!
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 29, 2006 1:19 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thank you all for the lovely comments and complements.

I am quite happy that once again my epic has a fan base.

The poll is up now. Enjoy your voting and discussion, my friends.
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 2:58 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 21- Demise

Forenius hacked downwards, severing cartilage and bone, blood spraying up and spattering across his face as the unfortunate hellhound whimpered beneath the mighty blow.

From beneath the crimson mask, he turned to Vitellus and spoke, “Go and challenge the bastard…”

Vitellus nodded, accepting the order as he readied his weapon for the uphill charge.

As he turned, Forenius continued, “But take with you Bracchus and Celius to guard your rear.”

The king observed as the cool demeanor of his confidant dropped for but a second, and some odd, unknown reaction shined in his blue eyes. It was gone, passing quickly as a noon shadow as the general resumed his previous attitude and the men at arms drew up beside him.

Together, the three began to hack their bloody trail up the mound, cleaving through the howling mass of fang and claw, bits of fur, bone, and organ tossing about in their wake like some sort of macabre confetti.

…………………….

Forenius and the remaining knights, being only fifteen in number, tore viciously into their foes, but gradually gave ground to the superior numbers.

The supernatural beasts seemed not beset by weariness nor poor morale, nor even a dwindling of reinforcements, as no matter the number that fell, yet more would always emerge from the fog, barking and snarling, eager for the fight.

Twisting in the saddle after having just slain another hound, the emperor attempted to view those sent to dispatch the assassin. It was during this time, that as he attempted to search within the infinite tangle of arms, legs, hooves, and flashing steel that he let down his guard just long enough to be knocked from the saddle by a staggering wolf, teetering and reeling from the lance buried deep in its bleeding side.

As he tumbled, his sword flung from his hand and was lost somewhere within the throng of drooling enemies.

Shaking himself, the warrior reached down to his belt and drew forth the Thunderer.

…………………….

The Trickster smiled slowly, a crooked smile etching its way across his gaunt face like a crack in a pane of glass. He had a slight pause in his arrogance as he saw that with his servant, two foolhardy men at arms pressed upon him. Whilst the gusto and eagerness of the commander was but a farce, he knew these others to truly be dedicated to taking his head.

He stroked his beard, then slowly extended a crooked finger, long and lean, obviously the digit of a bard, much more well suited to the instruments of courtly culture than the tools of war. His eyes rolled back into his skull and he began to spout forth a sinful ballad, conjuring a spell he remembered from days long past, when he too walked as man, merely flesh and blood.

As the extended verse drew to a close, nearing its foul completion, he was interrupted by a great flash of lightning from on high and the sharp crack of thunder.

The dogs yelped and screamed, almost sounding like the tortured moans of the damned. His eyes returned to their rightful direction, the godling glared down from his perch to survey the carnage unfolding.

Hardly could he believe himself to see Forenius, screaming louder than even the thunder’s rumble as he twirled above his head a massive warhammer, smashing and crushing all who crossed him. Seemingly at his direction, lighting struck within the forces opposing him, the stench of burning hair laying even more thickly upon the landscape than the fog which surrounded them.

The Trickster, reigning his nearly panicked steed under control, extended his scimitar, fully intending to summon forth yet another wave of his minions to end the life of this impetuous soul who would oppose the will of his mighty father. Raising the curled horn to his lips with the other hand, he drew back a prodigious breath…

And let loose a mighty scream, shrieking like a banshee as a potently enchanted falcatta, generations older than it’s wielder, sliced cleanly through his outthrust arm, severing it at the elbow and spurting black blood in a thick jet. Yanking back in surprise, the specter fell backwards and slammed hard upon the unforgiving ground, tossing up a cloud of dust as he attempted to roll away from the downward slash sure to follow.

……………………

Vitellus could not allow this thing to happen. His savior was about to be slain before his eyes and all because of his lack of haste in reaching to hills peak. Bracchus had beaten him and, having done such, had pursued his goal of slaying the dark stranger.

Reaching about the side of his mount, the traitor drew his javelin and, aiming carefully, tossed the spear. The projectile hissed, spiraling through the air, until finally, with a sickening thud, it landed center of the soldier’s chest, sliding between the plates of his armor and skewering his proud heart upon the metal spearhead.

His face contorted in silent surprise, the centurion slumped back into his saddle and groaned slightly as his mount, thoroughly spooked, galloped away, the unfortunately loyal legionary still astride its back.

Celius spied this from a few feet away, and filled with loathing and anger, his whole world blotted out in a black rage, he surged forward, bastard sword held high and kite shield flung rather uselessly across his back.

He gained in speed, approaching the treacherous one, who’s back was turned as he trotted toward his apparent master.

Vitellus turned, perhaps sensing something, or perhaps just hearing the horse’s hammering hooves as the gap closed, and this saved him, if just temporarily. What was intended to be a killing blow fell short of its mark, killing his horse instantly and mortally wounding the nobleman. As he and his beast fell, the veteran was able to make with a vicious backlash of his own blade, cutting the legionary’s throat and ending his life as well.

Together, the pair, the general and his painted horse, careened over the steep hillside and rolled upon the jagged rocks the whole way down. Unable to free himself, Vitellus was helpless as, at the conclusion of this painful journey, his heavily armored steed landed heavily upon his legs, crushing them beneath its cumbersome weight.

…………………….

Tails suddenly tucking between their legs, the squealing dogs, almost as one, turned to flee. They routed, and were slaughtered by the bushel as they attempted to escape the fury of the vengeful king and his honor guard.

As the last remnants of the horde vanished into the endless mist, Forenius called for his riders to halt their pursuit. Something had caused this sudden alteration in attitude, this breaking of the enemy force’s back as it were.

To the emperor, this meant but one thing… His general Vitellus had succeeded upon his mission.

Smiling and victorious, the battered monarch hung the hammer back from its home upon his belt and began the long walk up the red stained mound, seeking his childhood friend.

Crystalline, nearly frozen blades of grass cracked sharply beneath his feet as Forenius picked his way amongst the dead, finally mounting the summit and gazing down upon the shallow gully below. The way down was scattered with an assuredly deadly assortment of large rocks, jutting from the earth much like crude tombstones.

A small gasp, followed by a visible exhalation of hot breath in the form of a miniature cloud, escaped the knight’s lips as he noticed, sprawled in a grotesque manner beneath a familiar painted horse, a figure at the ridge’s bottom.

His mobility hindered by his chest piece, Forenius carelessly tossed it aside in a strange echo of times past upon yet another deserted battlefield. Cutting his hands in several places and gathering multiple bruises, the warrior rushed to aid his fallen comrade.

He was greatly pleased and his relief was spelled clearly across his stained face as Forenius noticed the slightest of motion in Vitellus as his broad chest heaved weakly.

The soldier drew closer, noticing that the fallen one spoke something, ever so softly. He kneeled close beside, crouching to hear these final words.

The whistling wind stole them from him, however, and he gently scooped the upper part of the strategist and held him close.

And then, so clearly, the madman whispered, “I die for my master.”

Before the words had time to truly register or even the chill had worked its snaking path down his spine, Forenius felt the well sharpened dagger slide smoothly between his unguarded ribs and up inside his torso.

Coughing blood and stammering in speechless surprise, Forenius slumped limply against the slaughtered mare, still embracing his traitorous vassal even as his life’s blood slowly bled out onto the already soaked moor.

……………………….


The Lady d’Grorathia wrapped her robes tightly around herself and flung open the doors, a slight gust of cold wind stirring her flame red hair and making the candles flicker dramatically as the imposing figure of the thing that was once Jad-Bal-Rhun menacingly cracked his muscled neck.

Midnight couriers rarely brought good tidings. More than likely, it would be his mission to dispose of he that was foolish enough to displease the vampire mistress.

As she searched the shadows for whosoever was impetuous to knock upon her door and disturb the time of her feeding, the impatience soon faded away as her jade eyes glanced upon a figure she’d not seen helpless in quite some time.

The Trickster, messenger of her father, the god of war, pestilence, famine, and murder, leaned weakly against her doorjamb, grasping at the stump of one arm with his remaining fist in an obviously futile attempt to forestall the inevitable eventuality of bleeding out.

Sighing almost as if the thought of asking for aid cut him more deeply than any cutlass, the flushed hellspawn spake slowly, “I come to you for quarter, asking for aid in my hour of need. Will you help me… sister?”
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 3:02 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok. New Chapter.

Hope you all enjoy it. I look forward to seeing your discussion.

This Dp is...

Does The Lady assist her estranged brother?
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 3:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nice chapter as usual Jack. As for The Lady, I say she should assist her brother to the fullest.
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 4:57 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Perhaps some questioning as to who did this first. But inevitably she will help him, so thinks I.

A suitably bloody episode Jack! Bigg
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 9:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I concur with the sentiment that she should help him! Amazing as usual
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 06, 2006 2:08 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

She doesn't lose anything by doing so. And for all she knows, it could be a trick - he might merely be testing her willingness to aid him.

So help him.
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 13, 2006 2:34 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Fairly cut and dry DP. HAve fun with the poll.
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PostPosted: Mon Dec 18, 2006 5:19 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow, im the only one who voted no. Shocked

Simply amazing, as always, jack. Very Happy A bit of a suprise there, killing off "Vittles", as Masterweaver says. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 17, 2007 1:00 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I voted Yes, awesome story Jack.
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PostPosted: Sun Feb 18, 2007 4:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, Shogun. I hate that it's been so long since I've been able to post on it, but 18 hour workdays kind of kill out all your time. Hopefully, I'll get a break soon and I can make some progress.
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 8:28 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, I wanted to put out at least one more chapter before I went out to sea and it looks like I'm getting my wish. I hope you all enjoy it, discuss it, and have me some good ideas for a poll. Maybe, if we're lucky, I can even get it posted before when I have to leave.
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 8:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 22- Duty and Honor

Leaning against the doorjamb, wind tinged with sleet and the sweet and sour odor of divine blood, The Trickster made his best effort to control his breathing, to slow his racing heart and stare his sister down.

The Lady, smiling with feigned innocence, barred the way into her makeshift abode, a rather luxrious plantation home seized from some noble family or another as her mighty army had been slowly forced back from the capital by the ferocious counterattack launched by Forenius the First.

She leaned in a bit, her smooth breath becoming visible in the night air and she asked, with more than a hint of mockery in her voice, "But, Oh Dear Brother, What could've done this to you? What misfortune has befallen my mighty sibling and forced him to my doorstep?"

A slight chill worked its way up the messenger's spine as his demigod senses began to key in upon slight variations upon his sister's demeanor, body language, and appearance. Something had changed here since last he'd seen her. Something dark had taken place.

Nevertheless, he straightened his aching spine and spake, "I engaged the usurper Forenius and his bodyguard in battle, utilizing the hounds of the Great Hunt."

A small, almost unnoticable spark lit off somewhere behind her eyes at the mention of these legendary beasts. The Lady gestured for him to continue on.

"Many were slain. And it seemed as if we'd lose the day, but once again, my cleverness..."

Slighty coughing, she muttered, "Cowardice," beneath her breath.

Not put aback, not even noticing the jab nor even the pain of his own severed arm at the moment, the shrouded man continued his tale, "We overcame, even at high cost. The king now lies dead upon the field, nothing more than a cold corpse."

At this, d'Grorathia's delicate eyebrows shot up and her crimson lips tightened into a thin line. She flicked her ruby hair over her shoulder and asked, "You know that this man was special to me."

A curious look from the Trickster followed, his mind inquiring.

Stammering to recover, she corrected, "Special to my plans. He had a purpose. Who shall fill that now?"

A slight chuckle and a head shake as the injured one stepped a bit closer.

"I assure you. There shall be another," He whispered, as much to mock her infatuation with the late hero as to foretell those things which he'd foreseen.

She stepped aside and he entered. They had a great many things to speak about and what good would he be if he bled to death on her doorstep?

.....................

Anaxandrias removed his bronze helm, and panicked, began to turn this way and that, surveying the battlefield for his liege. He owed this king his life as this man had taken him as a personal guard when he was nothing more than a footsoldier. Promoted from peonage, he'd become well known, if not a bit resented for his courage and skill at arms.

As he held the black crested helm to his side, he crouched as low as possible for the constraints of his breastplate. Through the mist that covered the blood soaked ground like a thin veil, he saw a familiar tread. A bootprint that led elsewhere.

He followed, picking up the pace as he noticed the emperor's discarded breastplate.

The ledge came upon him quicker than he would've liked due to the gathering fog and, teetering a bit, he caught his balance. Far below, he could see the silouettes of mangled figures.

The warrior muttered a prayer and began to climb his way down.

At the bottom, he saw three bodies entangled in a frozen embrace.

One was a great warhorse.

The other was the general Vitellus.

And lastly, he beheld Forenius, still wrapped in the arms of his childhood friend, a dagger protruding from his ribs.

"Oh dear Gods, no..." The hoplite spat as he scrambled to his leader's side.

Gingerly, he pried the nearly frozen bodies apart. The shock, the betrayal upon the hero's face were still apparent in this moment, even after he'd passed. His mouth gaped wide, his features twisted, and his eyes squinted in pain and rage.

There could be no doubt. The king was dead. The guard had failed in their duties.

At this point, there was but one course to be taken.

Screaming at the world in his hatred, Anaxandrias unsteathed his sword and with one swift blow, decapitated Vitellus's traitorious corpse. Hoisting the head by it's flowing locks, he spat in the face of the fool and snarled.

As he considered what could be done, his eyes gradualy worked from the face of his previously hidden foe to the form of his valiant king.

He knew what had to be done.

..............

The other guards, what remained of them, at least, awaited him, beaten and bloody atop the crest. He climbed up to meet them, the head of Vitellus fastened to his belt, dragging the body of his lord behind him via a rope bound from his waist to the corpse's feet.

The sadness of his comrades was clear to see as they beheld the cold dead form of their leader. Several knealt to mourn, overcome by grief.

Anaxandrias spat and snarled, "Stand up, or you are no better than wailing women."

Angry eyes cast upon him, the soldier continued to speak, "We have failed our king in life. Let us not fail him in death."

More than a bit confused, one knight asked, "But what do you mean by that, mercenary?"

Reaching around behind him, the armored man removed the Scepter of Devine Right, the object which kings were required by law to carry upon their persons at all times.

A gasp issued forth from the assembled elite and questions were spat out faster than any man could answer.

Anaxandrias waited for them to quiet down a bit, and then spun his tale.

"When I came upon him, our king was but a shadow of himself, the life clearly fading and not much left to live. Shaking hands, he reached up and grabbed me and pleaded that I carry on his war. That we drive out these invaders and crush them to the last man. But I asked, 'How will the men know to believe me, lord?'

He smiled, pulled me a bit closer and whispered as the last bit of his life faded, 'With this I name you, regent, Anaxandrias. Do me proud. Save my people.'

When I looked down, he'd thrust the Scepter into my hand, and as his body was racked with pain on last time, he passed."

Confronted by this mandate and seeming proof, the cavaliers had no choice but to accept the tale laid out before them. Taking a knee, they presented their arms to the Regent Anaxandrias, who contemplated, even now, his next move.
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 8:33 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok...

Thoughts?

Questions?

Comments?

Any ideas for what Anaxandrias does next, his first official act as regent?

Sidenote- And for those of you who are wondering, no, I've not forgotten about Larson. He's just busy elsewhere, which will be covered in an upcoming chapter.
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 03, 2007 4:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Meh - I'm not a fan of Larson. What I do like is the way you're happy to kill off main characters, and not let the plot die because of it.

I think old Anaxandrias (good name, close to mine) would be best to organise some R&R for the kingdom. They may have won the battle, but their forces were greviously depleted. He has no knowledge of any other gathering armies, or anyone that needs persuing, so just stay and consolidate his position for now.
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PostPosted: Tue Mar 06, 2007 3:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok then. Well, I'll be back in about two months...

Hope to see a bit more on this by then...
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PostPosted: Wed May 02, 2007 3:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 23- Damned



He cracked his knuckles and outstretched a long finger at the armies huddled in attendance. His voice thundered, rich in a foreign accent, but nevertheless commanding and powerful.

“How many of you know how we fight?”

Spears and swords, axes and war hammers thrust to the sky with shouts of approval.

“Really, do you?” Anaxandrias asked as he spat and stomped, snarling like a caged bull.

“I don’t think so!” He screamed, hushing their shouts of approval.

He turned his head to his honor guard, and ordered, “Bring him!”

The contempt in his fiery glare burned the scoutmaster to his soul, scorching him like the venom of the most heinous of hell’s denizens.

The captain trembled, humbled by his recent battle and fearing this regent, an unknown factor in his destiny.

Drawing close to the man’s face, and spraying him with spittle, the dark maned mercenary asked, “Do we retreat?”

Stammering, the man lacked a response.

“Do we SURRENDER?”

Gathering his words, the man put together his best argument, but it came out something like, “But, but, we were nearly surrounded upon a hilltop.”

“Nearly surrounded!” Anaxandrias repeated for the benefit of the gathered audience.

“We were cut off. There were thousands of the enemy.”

“Thousands of the enemy! Thousands! And how many did you command?” The regent demanded as he turned to face the coward.

“A mere 80, a scouting party.”

“80! That is enough!” A hush fell over the assembly.

The chained man scoffed at this, forgetting his place and protesting, “To do what? To be butchered like dogs as they descended upon us?”

“Is it not true that this was the fate of most of your men, those who were brave enough to not throw down their arms and be carted off to a prison camp or to execution regardless?”

“Only a dozen of us made it, yes, but that’s more than would’ve if we’d perished atop that mount!”

“You are a coward!” Anaxandrias screamed, finally losing control of his rage as he ripped his falcatta from its sheath and nearly beheaded the man with one smooth chop. Blood spurted and the cavalier’s head lopped backward, still held on by but a fragment of flesh and spinal cord.

“We do not surrender! We do not retreat! Under no means do we give ANYTHING to the enemy! It is better to live forever than to just live for today! I need heroes! Give them to me!” He summarized even as the warm body twitched upon the makeshift stage in its final throes.

He turned to make his exit, and after he leapt from his stand, he seized the arm of a nearby guard and whispered, “This man’s unit is to be beaten to death, publicly. And then I want them beheaded and their bodies crucified.”

……………………….

Valonia, her face hidden by a veil of mourning, shuddered even though it was quite warm within her carriage.

Once again, tears flowed freely and her body shook.

“Brother, what kind of a man have you left us with?” She begged to the heavens.

And then, as her brown eyes worked their way down, she lay a slender hand across her stomach, where deep within, a life grew.

“And Larson, my love, where are you?

………………………..

Their horses smelled something off in the air, and Larson, his senses at least half elf sharp, caught the fragrance as well. He clutched his crimson cloak close to his chest and reached for a hatchet.

Looking over his shoulder, he called to the remaining men, “Halt. There’s something afoot.”

For a few precious seconds, peace reigned in the emerald forest. Birds chirped. Leaves drifted to the ground, insinuating autumn’s approach.

And then a thousand arrows whistled from the treetops, fired from magically concealed hands. Each struck its target, toppling a rider.

Not a man had a chance, except Larson.

No arrow graced him, nor flew even about his person. In fact, it seemed as if they’d been deliberated aimed to avoid this single lone rider, as they struck all others in the eyes, face, neck, and chest.

Still, he was not the one to let such fortune, be it accidental or otherwise, pass his way unmolested.

The bounty killer leapt from his saddle and planted both tomahawks firmly in the wood of a giant oak. Tumbling with the speed and grace afforded by his partially undead status, he scaled the tree.

As he reached the top, he knew that a foe awaited him there. He was not certain of how he knew, but he did.

The rogue spun about a thick branch, and with all his force planted both feet in the chest of a foe who’s magics dissipated as he screamed his way to the forest floor.

Larson spun, twirling his bright cloak to hopefully disorient and deceive his enemies as he turned and let an axe fly to his left, where it embedded in the groin of a particularly unlucky ranger who groaned and slumped against his perch, somehow managing not to fall.

An arrow flew for his face, but the half elf cleaved it cleanly in two with the other hand axe as he leaned back from its reach.

A visible combatant swung upon a rope from another tree and attempted to skewer him with a crooked dagger. The hunter’s heightened senses cued him to this man’s presence and he caught the blade hand and twisted it, wrenching the opponent’s shoulder out of place as he brought his own arm behind him and used it, still clutching the weapon to end his life with a swift thrust to the kidneys.

“CEASE YOUR FIGHTING!” Screamed an ancient voice from a few treetops away.

An old elven man shimmered into existence, and held up his hands to demonstrate that he held no weapon. His green cloak bristled in the calm breeze.

“You must be the son of Laia that I’ve heard so very much about. I’d much like to speak with you, child,” He spoke as he slowly advanced toward the swashbuckler.

Uncertain what to do upon hearing his mother’s name, Larson simply bided his time and waited for the old man to speak more, which he did.

“You’ve come to me to seek a way to stop the death of this age, haven’t you? Do you truly wish to halt the end times, young son of man?”

Larson closed his eyes and in them, he saw Valonia. His reply was obviously, “Yes.”

The elder cackled. “You think of your love. Ironic.”

His voice dripping with menace, Larson turned his eyes on the wrinkled form before him, “How so?”

“You must make a choice, the hardest choice you’ve ever made.”

Preparing to defend himself, a hand flew to the hatchet at his belt. “And what is that?”

“Will you stay here and learn what you must to save the world or will you return to your home and save your love and unborn child from the monster that takes the throne?”

More than a bit confused, Larson countered, “But Forenius wouldn’t…”

Another barking laugh interrupted him, “Not Forenius, son. He lies cold and dead. Now the land bows to will of Anaxandrias.”

He knew not the name, but the implication was enough to make him shudder.

“There’s only time enough for but one. Do you save your world or do you save your love?”
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PostPosted: Wed May 02, 2007 3:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Not much of a reply on 22, so I went ahead and did 23.

Hope you all enjoy it, comment, discuss and debate over the juicy DP I've included for you.
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PostPosted: Wed May 02, 2007 5:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nice DP Jack! A real humdinger.

I have to say stay. It will add to his angst.

Though surely he could nip back and save them first? Confused
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PostPosted: Wed May 02, 2007 6:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
Though surely he could nip back and save them first?


Aww... But China. That takes all the wicked fun from my delightedly barbed decision point... Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed May 02, 2007 8:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Keep going says I - mainly because...well, I don't really have a reasoning behind it. But I didn't flip a coin.
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PostPosted: Mon May 07, 2007 10:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Poll will be up in a second.

Vote and with it, doom the world or scar Larson.
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PostPosted: Wed May 23, 2007 7:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 24- Damnation

Larson licked his lips, chap as they were, and his brow furrowed. It occurred to him that this man could be lying, but somehow, in his heart, he knew that this was truth.

Not only did he discover that his love was with child, but that he could lose that child and the love and that his brother in arms, the mighty Forenius, now walked amongst the dead.

When given the option of the world or what makes the world worth living in, what should a man do?

He ran his fingers through his braided hair and thought deeply of his Valonia. It would be her will that he stay. As painful as it may be, he knew he must stay here in the land of his forefathers and learn that which would bring salvation.

The bounty killer gritted his teeth and, glaring at the elder with grim determination, he muttered, barely audible even in the deathly silence, “I shall stay.”

…………………………

The trolls clambered over the distant hilltop, their warcries echoing out like the screams of some exotic bird, a vulture or carrion beast of some sort.

The men at arms drew closer behind their shields, lowering their pikes, and readied themselves for the charge.

Anaxandrias looked over to the herald, who with horn in hand, awaited with great expectation the orders to relay via his instrument.

With a sideward glance and in complete calm, the regent said, “Ready the ballista.”

One sharp intake of breath and a short blast on the horn followed, bellowing out across the narrow valley.

Artillery was loaded and cranks were turned in preparation for the struggle.

The putrid savages drew closer and the mercenary commanded, “Light the arrows.”

Two long and under the direction of a crusty veteran of a centurion, the longbowmen readied themselves.

Screaming their minds out, the barbarians issued forth, swinging obsidian blades and howling curses in a babbling tongue. They gained momentum as they rushed down the slope, some tumbling only to be trampled beneath the feet of their comrades.

Just when what seemed to be the last of an endless tide of thousands crossed the hill’s hump, Anaxandrias shouted for the first time, “And FIRE!”

Arrows arched high and landed amongst the horde, ending more than a few lives as spear like projectiles hurtled through yet more foes, impaling them and skewering limbs.

Glancing about himself, the commander ordered, “Wait for it… wait,” Even as the enemy bore down upon his soldiers, almost to within fighting range.

“NOW!” He shouted, slapping the herald sternly upon his back and almost toppling the man.

The dazed signalman blasted three sharp notes on his horn and light cavalry, carefully hidden for ambush in the woods adjoining the field charged forth from ambush and slammed into the enemy flank, taking them totally by surprise.

“And again!” He said to the musician at his side.

This time the man sounded one, long mournful note that seemed to stretch across time itself, slowing all things even as the lines clashed and bodies tossed about like children’s toys.

Screams of war, of rage, of death, and of the dying rippled out as man and beast hacked at each other, killing, maiming, and crippling for life.

Blood soaked deep into the ground, as priests, the most powerful remaining after the failed crusade, murmured long forgotten chants dedicated to those long passed and rune stones, planted in advance of the battle began to hum with life and churn up the dirt under which they’d been concealed until, spinning, twirling almost as if they’d a life of their own, they emerged and shot up, straight into the sky.

These stones, each bearing mystical symbols that glowed much as fire and burned hotter than a thousand suns, aligned with one another and, then shot a solid wall of divine energy effectively cut off the trolls from any hope of undead reinforcement.

Far away, sheltered from the sun by her shaded wagon, Lady d’Grorathia cursed her misfortune and slammed a fist into her table.

It seemed that the fate of her army now lay with Jad- Bal- Rhun, whom she’d sent to command the shock troops at the front line.

…………………………

At the first, sheer troll numbers and brute strength threatened to overtake the humans, but Anaxandrias was a wise commander, and using his experience as a mercenary commander, he outmaneuvered the barbarians at every turn, parrying each counter attack with devastating effectiveness.

This alone, however, was not enough to save morale, as Jad, the greatly enhanced lackey of the villainess hacked a bloody swath through his lines, inflicting massive casualties that were too numerous to believe.

Anaxandrias observed this, and knew what weapon would be most effective in putting down such a monster. He motioned and courtiers brought him the hammer Thunderer. He reached into the ornate pine box carved for the weapon and grasped tightly the hilt and lifted…

But to his shock, he discovered that the war hammer would not move. No matter the strength he applied the mystical weapon would not budge.

Shrugging in indifference, he donned his crested helm, mounted his horse, and with a broad sweep of his sword, lead his elite bodyguard into the fray.

He bore down upon the troll berserker with reckless speed, galloping hard and fast, until, a few feet behind the distracted abomination, he leapt from the back of his mount, and plunged his sword deep into the midsection of the champion.

Jad- Bal- Rhun gasped and halted for a second, pausing in what seemed to be sheer disbelief as the armored man clambered up his massive back like a mountain climber.

Shaking, the troll threw him off flying, tumbling, until he landed amongst a crowd of his own men, who gladly pushed their leader to his feet. Looking about, he realized that his sword was still lodged securely in the monster’s back.

A spear was shoved into his hand from an infantryman.

Anaxandrias smiled. A hoplite by his birth and training, he was now truly at home, on his own two feet with a spear in hand.

He pulled his shield from his back and slung it across his left arm, wielding the spear over it as he braced himself whilst the angered leviathan snorted like a bull and stomped his feet, preparing to charge.

He screamed and the regent roared.

The obsidian axe clashed against the bronze shield as the spearman slid down between the beast’s legs in the blood slicked mud.

Angling his spear upwards, he planted it deep in the soft groin of his foe and rammed as hard as his muscles would allow until the weapon protruded from his wart covered abdomen.

Incredulous, the giant looked down to his belly, and touched the open wound with his hand, then raised it to his hooked nose to sniff before sinking to his knees with a slosh in the wet soil.

The warrior, who by this time had shifted behind him, removed his sword from the fiend’s back and, in great swoop, beheaded Jad- Bal- Rhun, and with that one action, removed any chance that the trolls had ever had for freedom.

Heartbroken, the trolls, one by one, laid down their weapons, and a truly strange sight blessed the field.

These mighty savages, proud warriors, wept for their fallen comrade. They cried tears of bitterest anguish and bemoaned his fate for to them, he was a hero.

Then, one by one, they fell upon their swords, each ending his life in turn, until but one was left.

Anaxandrias, puzzled by these actions, screamed at him to halt and then inquired, “Why do you do this?”

The troll, his heart heavy and acidic tears streaking his hideous face replied in the broken tongue of man, “A world without Jad, a world not worth life.”

And having spake thusly, he impaled himself as well.

In shock, the regent removed his helm and let it fall to the ground. He ran a bloodstained hand through his long, raven hair and ordered to those nearest, “Bury them. Bury them all. Full honors. I demand it.”

As he stumbled his way back to his tent, a man asked, “But sire, what of us?”

With a waving motion, he said, “Tonight we shall rest, but there shall be no songs, no ale. Just a moment of silence and prayer for the noble foes that we have slain this day.”

………………………….

In his tent, which was made no better than that of his troops, Anaxandrias brooded upon the day’s events, of the past, and of things to come.

He knew, that at best, his station as regent was temporary, unless he could find some way to solidify his power base.

And the key to that was Valonia, the dear, beautiful sister of the fallen Emperor, gods rest his soul.

Now, Anaxandrias faced a crossroads, a decision. He must make up his mind what to do with this outspoken girl, last of the royal blood that she was, and at that moment only two options came to mind…

Would he marry her for his own, claim this woman as his bride and take his place as king?

Or, as distasteful as it seemed, have her seemingly “vanish” in the night?

Both options had their advantages and drawbacks, and he knew that upon this, he must think carefully, as the future not only himself, but of the land as a whole depended upon the course he took.
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PostPosted: Wed May 23, 2007 7:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, there's a new chapter.

The Dp is kind of cut and dry, but if you guys think of any more ideas, then feel free to submit them and discuss as you wish.
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PostPosted: Wed May 23, 2007 8:09 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, marry her I guess. Confused

A couple of slight typos here and there that need seeing to, but a nice chapter there Jack. Great battle scene!
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PostPosted: Sat May 26, 2007 2:49 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
Angling his spear upwards, he planted it deep in the soft groin of his foe


Ummm, descriptive, i guess... Surprised

Only just caught up with the 2 new chappies, and, like almost all others, are much more then satisfactory. Very Happy

Poor, poor forenius. Grave

I guess larson deserves sum sympathy as well... Crying or Very sad

I say kill her. Who cares what Anax-wateva thinks? I just wanna see what Larsons reation would be if he finds out that anax-thingy killed her. Methinks it will involve blind anger and blood, 1 way or another. Smile

Another possible idea would be both. Marry to take the throne, then silently, in the middle of the night, slit her throat.
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PostPosted: Sat May 26, 2007 7:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Marry and then kill?

That works too... Hmm.

I think we may have another poll option.

Thanks for the praise, Meany. Glad to see you guys still enjoy the story. I intended, when I first started writing it, for it to evolve into a full blown epic. I think that I'm kind of getting there, at least.

Anything else, folks?

Any input, Lordy?
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PostPosted: Sat May 26, 2007 3:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Marry and then kill? Well, I suppose it works, though I'd be more inclined to take and then kill - and just not bother going through the motions of marriage.

What type of fool leaves the surviving members of the royal family alive? And what type of fool kills the beautiful woman before sampling her 'favours'.
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PostPosted: Sat May 26, 2007 4:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

ANd you know ALL about that, don't you, Lordy? Wink

When is the poll going up?
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PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 12:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, here's the poll.

Have fun with the voting and I'll have fun with the writing.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 6:00 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok... then. Well, we have a tie. Either I can break it or perhaps someone else will. (That would be nice.)


Or... wait... I may have a way to do both...

Hmm...

Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri Jun 08, 2007 12:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
Or... wait... I may have a way to do both...


What do you mean? Confused Like having him marry her then kill her then marry her corpse? Or marry her then divorce and then re-marry and THEN kill her?
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 12, 2007 11:40 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Broke the tie, I voted for marry and kill her, seems most logical, he should do it after their resting from their...activities in the bed.
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 12, 2007 8:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, POF. That's just what I was needing. Hopefully, I can get the next chapter done soon. I've been so busy with work, it's been rough lately. I think this shouldn't be too much longer, though.
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PostPosted: Tue Jul 17, 2007 3:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Then I guess I wait in utter eagerness. Hm....should work on Heavy Metal while I wat. Make sure there is extra carnage going around in the upcoming chapter. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed Jul 18, 2007 7:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 25- Degression

Anaxandrias mused over the coming future. He had offered his hand to the beautiful Valonia, but for some reason which he could not discern, she had actually accepted with almost no argument.

Was she perhaps attracted to him?

More than likely not. He was a handsome man, considered quite dashing by the ladies of his distant homeland, but the scar that dragged its lazy way across the right side of his face from his temple down to his throat would be considered homely by any standards but those of the long distant maidens that once cried his name.

The mercenary grunted and surged to his feet. He quickly shrugged his aching shoulders in an attempt to loosen his aching body that protested so mightily to the meager amounts of sleep he’d allowed himself.

In two nights, he would be a married man for the first time since he’d been banished from his homeland…

………………………

Lady d’Grorathia stood high atop her moonlit castle spire, alone, now without even so much as her devoted bodyguard, as he had perished, along with his entire race, in the last battle.

The tides had turned against her and she was in danger being engulfed in the coming tsunami.

This Anaxandrias was no Forenius, she knew this for sure. He was no paladin, no paramour of truth and justice. He was a soldier, pure and simple, and a good one at that. He cared naught for the price nor the method of victory, as long as it was achieved.

Forenius was a lion, noble and proud. This Anaxandrias… this rebel prince from the Far Lands… He was a jackal.

A slight tingle ran up her spine and she turned, her exquisite silk robes twirling about in the wake of her sudden movement. She caught her brother midstride, before he even had a full chance to fade into existence from the shadowy realm of spirits.

And before a word of his could slip, she spake, “How is it, brother, that our father is the god of murder, mayhem, chaos, and war… yet I am losing this war?”

“Well, sister…” A slight snarling look of apprehension was tacked onto this word almost as if merely to mutter it brought him the pain of a thousand fire ants swarming about in his trousers.

She considered this for a second. It was rude. She would not tolerate rudeness in her very own citadel, the seat of her power.

“I think that he simply requires more sacrifice,” She hissed.

His shining eyes widened for a second, and then, with a dagger like thrust, she rammed her hand deep into his midsection and wrapped it around his heart.

Smiling, she squeezed and twisted, turning the organ about as he whimpered, crumbling.

Quickly, before he could recover from the pain, she bared her fangs and ripped deep into his throat, draining him of his immortal blood.

When she was finished, she tossed the limp husk of a body from the parapiece and let it smash upon the sharp rocks below with a snap of bones and splatter of organs.

The power she felt now was amazing. It was something incredible. Not since she’d initially drained Damek, had she felt something like this. Her brother had not been quite a god, nearly, but not quite. Through magics, elixirs, and ancient rituals, he’d become much as one, but not quite. It was incredible how much raw energy had coursed through his veins.

……………………….

Larson awoke from a terrible nightmare. He was frigid, yet covered in sweat and his mouth was dry as the eastern deserts.

It took all his resolve to not scream in horror, but he knew that this futile act would do nothing. Valonia was dead.

He had seen it was so. She had been walking, alone, quite sad, trapped within her own thoughts, when, from nowhere, an assassin’s arrow had cut her down upon the high balcony. She’d tumbled forward and fell, face first, onto the courtyard below, her brains scattered across the roses she once so lovingly tended.

The half elf bit his lip. He would not cry and he would not lose control. He was a man, dammit. This was the fate he had chosen.

His love, his child, his one chance at true happiness, for the world.

He only hoped that these lessons that he’d received at the hands of arcane masters of the ancient elves would be enough to warrant the sacrifice, as he was hating himself for it already.

…………………………

Anaxandrias was still attired in robes of mourning, wrapped in a cloak of the blackest attire, when he was approached by a messenger.

The messenger, panting with the exertion of finding his liege, the newly crowned King Anaxandrias, fell to a knee.

“My master, emissaries from the far north appeal to you for an audience,” He gasped.

“They can wait,” He dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“But, sire… They know of the hammer,” The peon whined in protest.

Making an abrupt about face and consequently betraying to any who had delusions of his refinement with such a military gesture, the monarch strode halfway across the room.

“What?” He whispered, wondering how any but the few closest to him would know of the mysterious hammer that Forenius had carried. The story believed amongst the common folk was that it had been buried alongside the great emperor in a tomb so secret that even the servants who constructed it were put to death.

“They hail from the frozen north… warriors of golden mane and icy eye. They are clad in furs and bear upon themselves similar weapons, though none so fine as yours. They claim that they have come to retrieve the Thunderer,” The lackey spake.

“They even know of its name…” The soldier pondered.

He coughed, shrugged his cape more firmly upon his shoulders, adjusted the awkward crown upon his brow and ordered, “Show them in.”

As the rodent like diplomat scurried down the hall like a rat chasing a wheel of cheese, the emperor slumped heavily into his newly acquired throne and closed his weary eyes.

What was he to do?
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PostPosted: Wed Jul 18, 2007 7:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok. New chapter (at last, I know, I know).

But here it is.

Give me some ideas, argue on it a bit.

And then, we'll get a poll up.
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PostPosted: Thu Jul 19, 2007 9:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nicely done once again, Jack!

I thinks he should agree to give them back Thunderer *coughs* lie *coughs* as long as they agree to aid him in the war Laughing

What d'ya think? Could you cook something longer up with that? This last one was a bit short...
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 20, 2007 4:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Agreeing with TMOF.
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 20, 2007 6:50 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

He should get them to perform a task for him, in return he would consider giving them back the hammer.
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PostPosted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 9:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It's not like he's guaranteed that they won't just come in and beat his head into a bloody bony pulp. So, uh, I don't like Anaxandrias so I vote a mysterious hammer splatters his pink brains all over the throne...
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 22, 2007 11:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Player of Fates wrote:
It's not like he's guaranteed that they won't just come in and beat his head into a bloody bony pulp. So, uh, I don't like Anaxandrias so I vote a mysterious hammer splatters his pink brains all over the throne...


As much as I hate the guy, I'd have to disagree with this option. It is FAR too early to bump him off, at least give him another few chapters to live before killing him. Then Lady Whats-her-facce could claim the kingdom, and Larson'll come back and bash her face in. Laughing
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PostPosted: Sat Aug 11, 2007 6:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

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PostPosted: Thu Aug 23, 2007 12:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, I finally got the poll up.

I've been so busy with work that I've not had time for much of anything.

Well, anyhow...

I think I got all your wonderful suggestions in there. Thanks for the good feedback, keep it up and enjoy voting.
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 01, 2007 2:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 26- Disillusion

His head rested for but a bit upon folded hands and Anaxandrias answered, “I shall see them presently.”

The courtier bowed and made his way to the heavy oaken doors, but before he had but a moment’s chance to touch them, the flung open, almost of their own accord.

Behind stood three powerfully built men from the far reaches of ice and legend. Their weather beaten faces were more leather than flesh, having spent many cold nights upon the deck of longboats, their pale eyes showed no inclination for levity, and their mouths were little more than harsh slits barely perceivable beneath their thick beards. They were cloaked in the skins of ferocious animals, one in that of a bear, another in that of an ice wolf, and finally, the last covered himself with the hide of the elusive snow tiger. Armor that flashed occasionally from beneath the heavy furs clinked and clanked as they marched their solemn way to the throne.

“I see you and hope that you come as friends,” Anaxandrias said as he stood from his throne, shuffling about a bit as he spread his arms wide as if to embrace all three as he eyed the weapons that hung across the backs of the warriors.

One bore a great axe, bronzed and stained from the sheer quantity of blood it had drank, but sharp and vicious none the less. Another had a spear which seemed to shiver and shimmer before the eyes. Truly, a marvel of iron and magics wedded. The third had across his shoulders a quiver, loaded with plentiful arrows, each punctuated by a bright blue feather and a withered bow, recurved and carved with runes of most mysterious nature that glowed slightly violet.

The one in center, the tallest, he who was swaddled in wolf’s skin and armed with spear, spake, “And that we do but only insofar as your own inclinations remainst the same, or at least similar to ours.”

Rather than give an inch, the dictator asked, “And what be your intentions?”

He who carried the axe and was dressed in the bear, shrugged, adjusting his heavy armaments, chain mail rattling in protest and replied, “We seeketh that which had belonged to mine clansman and cousin, Cynyr the Devout in life, but now rests in thine hands, we art lead to believe.”

“You speak of the hammer?” The mercenary autocrat inquired.

The last, his tiger cloak stirring a bit, spoke his turn thusly, “Aye, the Thunderer, an ancient weapon sacred to our people and revered as an artifact most holy, for in it, lies the souls of all those valiant warriors who’ve wielded it, making it stronger with each successive owner and by this point, granting it a level of sentience.”

Puzzled, his mouth agape, Anaxandrias ran fingers through his raven locks, asking, “So you imply that Forenius himself dwells within this weapon?”

The first of the berserkers nodded and grunted in affirmation. “Hmm. Suppose ‘t so. And also that of many of our bravest of conquerors, our clerics, our warriors and soldiers. ‘Tis a living bloodline of our people and only right that we’ve it where it belongs so that it can be passed on.”

“But this would also mean that our people have a great hero that resides within,” Anaxandrias countered, not wishing to surrender the weapon even though it proved beyond him to make use of it.

The three growled, much as a beast, the guttural utterance of an angry wolf who’s had the carcass of his prey dragged away by another predator.

Anaxandrias raised his hands, seeing this. “I’ll tell you that tonight, we shall sort all of this out, at a banquet to your honor. Surely you’re tired from your journey and a bit of respite would do you well.”

This was accepted and they turned to leave, exiting the way they came as the doors slammed shut behind them.

Anaxandrias wrapped an arm around his nearest aide and spoke softly into the man’s ear, “I’ve a plan, but should that fail, have prepared an elixir, a toxin so vile and venomous that not all the good graces beneath the sun could hope to save a man once he insomuch as is pricked with it, even more if he drinks of it.”

“Yes, my master.”

………………………

The tome thudded shut, spreading dust in a slight cloud that cloaked the room for a second in a hoary fog.

The ancient elf, piercing eyes and wrinkled face, yet unable to grow a beard, leaned forth and looked closely at the grim features of Larson the half breed.

“Young one, you now know all that you need know of the ending of this world, of the death of this age.”

In quiet comprehension, Larson nodded, his eyes becoming dark and hollow seeming as those of some decayed skull for a second in the dim lights.

Without so much as a word, he made his journey up to his lodging and packed his haversack. As he affixed the tomahawks to his belt, a figure clouded in shadow entered his room.

Not even turning, as he sensed the elf long before due to his heightened vampiric senses, Larson asked, “What is it you wish of me, teacher?”

Emerging from the shade as a drowning man does the water, the high elf inhaled slowly and a slight smile crept upon his cracked features.

“I am greatly satisfied by your progress, my pupil. I know that if any man may bring an end to this tale of woe, it shall be you.”

His features darkened and the smile vanished as if it itself were but a magician’s illusion, the harsh creases leaving no evidence of its passing.

“But this melancholy of which your soul has been devoured as of late… In it I find much to be worried about.”

One fierce glance was enough to forestall the lecture for a second, but not of forceful enough nature to silence him completely.

The elder carried on, “As much pain as I know you feel, you must know that you made the right choice. The one that she would’ve had you make.”

“And how do you know that, you aged bastard? I’d sooner think that your thoughts were clouded by cobwebs than to think you understand my pain,” Larson snapped.

The elf wet his chapped lips and sat upon a stool in the corner.

“You may be surprised by this, but I knew your mother. I knew her better than any other.”

This gave the brash young man pause as he ceased stowing his daggers within their many hidden places throughout his costume and turned to face the old one once again.

“ I was her first husband and she was my third wife, my chosen and favored. It was with she that I sought to produce child, but we were met with failure.

Of course, it was assumed that the failure to reproduce, to fuel the state with fresh soldiers was none other than her own fault, especially when she was discovered to be experimenting with magics beyond our understanding. They charged her with heresy, saying that one as young as her could never hope to understand perfection after less than a century of life.

Although I made my best defense of her, she was cast from her place as high priestess and exiled, left for dead as a heretic in the outlands…”

As he finished his unfortunate tale, the elf sniffled a bit and visibly struggled to hold back the tears that threatened his stoic composure that was so expected of his station.

“For the love of the gods, I so wish that I could’ve seen her again… No. I should’ve left with her, cast my lot in the desert as she did.”

He now wept openly, breaking down into open sobs and heaving as heartbreak decades old finally broke the floodgates.

After some time, the old one finished his tears, and wiping them off upon his sleeve, stood. He fished in his pocket for a few seconds and retrieved a small pendant.

It was a viridian stone carved into a locket that hung from a clasp on a golden chain. It swayed in the air, seeming to move upon its own accord rather than obeying gravity or any known law of motion.

“She was truly a wise woman and she gave this to me the day before her trial, knowing that she’d likely never return to our home. She hung it around my neck thusly,” He undid the clasp and fastened it around Larson’s neck, then continuing, “And she whispered… And I’ll never forget it…”

In the moment, as Larson closed his eyes, it was almost as if his mother were there in the room with him, living, breathing again, as the metal hooks met and two voices, far apart in time, but linked eternally, sighed into his ear…

“Our salvation comes upon the moment that time stands still…”

He opened his eyes and in a flash, he was alone, but more surprisingly, only a few hundred feet outside the gates of the royal palace in the capital city, a recently erected statue of his departed friend Forenius staring down at him forebodingly, thick grey clouds lining his larger than life brow like some celestial halo.

A chill wind blew, an eagle soared overhead and snow began to fall.

……………………

Anaxandrias sipped at his water. He never touched liquors. A man of his status could not afford to lose control for any reason.

He watched as the barbarians indulged in their ale and after a couple of hours of watching them hoot and shout, pinching the maid’s behinds, he felt confident to approach them.

The regent coughed and, once he had the attention of the men before him, he began, “Good sirs, I cannot in good faith allow the hammer to be removed from these lands as long as it remains so useful to my people.”

A pin dropping would have seemed a deafening noise in the hall at that point.

Before interruption could commence, he resumed his oratory.

“But if, say, the reason that such a weapon were required were itself, removed, I’d more than gladly grant you possession of the weapon.”

“Absurd!” Spat the gruff veteran with the bear cloak, as he tugged at his eye patch, for a moment displaying the grotesque empty socket that lie beneath.

Several shuddered, but not the king, as he’d been present in the surgeon’s tent after many battles, attending to the morale of his wounded as a mercenary captain in the years before he was hired to the bodyguard.

“And why is it so? Are you not all brave and capable?” He asked loudly, and then, pretending almost to mutter to himself in soliloquy, but loud enough for all to hear, “What nation sends men who so fear the temper of a single woman?”

A grunt from the slumping spearman as he shrugged beneath his wolf cloak.

The last of the three warriors, who’d remained silent to this point, turned to his comrades and nodded. They did the same.

He walked forward, spat into his gargantuan palm and extended the limb.

Although he towered over the ruler by over a foot and exceeded him in girth by some large measure, Anaxandrias, spat in his hand as well, and never removing his cold eyes dark eyes from the ice blue of the north man’s.

“You’d best keep your word, mercenary king,” The juggernaut growled.

“You’d best not worry about that. Get some rest,” The emperor replied, a slightly smug smile creeping across his lips.

………………………

Larson lost not even a step as he landed softly on the other side of the wall. He ran, quick and low, hiding amongst the shadows.

He climbed yet another wall and hopped among the rafters, silent as a falling leaf and sure footed as a feline.

The half elf closed his eyes and whispered, “The king will fall, the king will rise, they will be led by the sell sword’s lies. He has his use, do not be overly quick to pull the noose.”

As anxious as he was for revenge, he pondered the true meanings of the rhyme and, more importantly, when Anaxandrias could be dispatched with no true treat to the prophecy.
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 01, 2007 2:49 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, the way work was going it took me forever to get this chapter out there. I really am quite sorry about that.

I hope you all enjoy it, vote, and discuss, and that I hopefully won't be as late with the next.

The Dp is simple... Does Larson think it's time to kill Anaxandrias or no?
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 01, 2007 4:03 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Finally! I swear, if you had been able to write more quickly, this would have been an SGotM!

Yes, he thinks it is time. And he also takes that hammer.

Exellent chapter overall, mr. Demented! I detected no faults, but I am not good on doing that either Embarrassed
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 01, 2007 7:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

No - why kill him? It's not as if he's done anything wrong, or there's even a good successor waiting.

A marginally evil king is still better than the woman (whose name I can't remember) ruling, or than complete anarchy, which the king's assassination would lead to. Assuming Larson even manages to do it that is.
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 10, 2007 3:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, the new poll is in. I'd love to see some quick action on it and maybe I can put out a new chapter soon.
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 3:27 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 27- Denouement

He skirted through the shadows, hidden safe from sight, as he snaked his way to the chambers of Anaxandrias.

Larson’s heart filled with rage, and he focused more and more upon the image of his beloved Valonia, steeling himself with the power of hate. This man had stolen his woman, betrayed her, and, in the end, killed her, and unknowingly, with her… the half elf’s child.

The bounty hunter leapt through an open window, landed with a slight thud, and rolled to recover, axes in hand.

This slight noise was enough to awake the sleeping warrior, who tumbled through his sheets, a sword seeming to leap to his fist quicker than the eye could see.

Larson smiled, laughed a brief chuckle.

Anaxandrias cracked his neck and spat upon the floor.

Their eyes met.

Battle was joined.

The mercenary, screaming, swung his blade high. The smaller foe tumbled, span, and hacked at exposed thigh with cold steel.

The blade of his foe intercepted and sparks flew and he was rebuked with a kick to the face.

The assassin bounced from the wall with supernatural speed and rained down upon his enemy with a flurry of tomahawk blows, but, to his amazement, the sell sword kept his pace, not allowing a single breach of his defenses.

Larson leapt back, panting at the exertion. “How?”

Anaxandrias shook his head and plucked a candle from a wall sconce, holding it close to his face.

The red cloaked fighter stammered as recognition dawned with the new light.

Smiling, the emperor whispered, “I knew you would come. After all… on some level, at least…”

Horror gripped the lighter warrior by his spine, running cold fingers up his back as he knew the next words before they were even muttered.

“We share a father.”

It was plain for any who had but seen that grin before, a jagged tear across a bloodied face, crooked and uneven, yet somehow disarming, charming, and chilling all at once. The resemblance was more so obvious what with the bigger man’s normally flowing locks tied back and his beard shaven.

This man was the son of Damek, the immortal vampire, slayer of cities.

Larson roared, flinging himself headlong at his foe, tearing at him with his twin axes. Every time, in spite of his heroic efforts, steel met naught more but steel, never finding a home in the flesh of either warrior.

A clang bounded off the walls as Larson sought to block a particularly vicious downward strike of the king with one axe. He was knocked to the ground with the force of the blow, stumbling.

Anaxandrias made ready for the killing blow, poising himself above this would be murderer when Larson kicked a leg out from beneath the bigger man, throwing him off balance.

The merchant of death leapt at the opportunity, throwing himself atop the regent and sending them both to the floor. For a brief bit, they rolled about, landing blows upon one another, fighting as savages.

The best that Larson could do was to block the knocks and gouges to this face with forearms raised. He was out of his element and this he knew well. He tried to back away, but realized instead that the way to victory lie ahead as the ferocity of the punches increased.

He leaned forward, braving the fury briefly until he saw his opening, and then, with a feral cry, bore his vampiric fangs and buried them deep into the neck of the foreigner. The bite dug deep and he felt the hot blood run across his chapped lips, squirting liquid hot like magma across his palate.

Larson tried his best to resist the urge, but failed in this as he lost control, biting not once, but twice, but tearing into his enemy much more like a wolf than anything remotely resembling a man. He drank deep and he buried his head in gore, rooting almost like a boar, grunting as the life faded from the flailing dictator.

……………………………….....

The three northern warriors panted, their breath short after having cut a bloody swath through the mighty army of the Lady d’Grorathia. These hacking wheezes seemed to crystallize as a fine mist as soon as it passed their mighty lips, hanging in the air with the coppery scent of blood spilled.

One member of the party, the man wrapped in the snow tiger cloak, ventured forth to the heavy oaken doors at the forefront of the lady’s great hall and, with a grunt and a kick, slammed the doors open wide.

She awaited them upon her throne, more beautiful than most anything they’d ever seen. The three berserkers shuffled forward, mesmerized for a second by her entrancing green eyes and fiery crimson hair.

Then with a loud roar that nearly deafened his fellows, the bear clad warrior twirled the Thunderer about his wrist and let the mighty hammer fly.

His aim was true and his force unspeakable, the mallet bearing upon its target with force enough to crush her delicate skull once and for all.

Her perfectly formed lips parted for a second as she gasped what she was almost certain was one final breath.

But the hammer was not to strike her.

At the last possible second, a gigantic titan of a figure materialized and interposed himself between the weapon and the helpless demigoddess.

He shrugged off the blow, shaking his head a bit as the legendary weapon clanked to the ground from his dark armor, which glistened black as night.

“My daughter’s work is not yet done!” The shadow screamed, his eyes alight with the fire of the abyss. The god of war, death, pestilence, and murder then swooped down upon the foreigners with wings of fire, ripping their limbs asunder as his daughter watched the blood spilt, her voracious appetite displayed plainly through an almost feline licking of her lips.

Unnoticed, the hammer shook in the corner, moving almost of its own volition, an eerie blue light emanating from the shattered stone head of the maul.

As the last of the emissaries fell to the ground cold, lifeless, and limp with his head twisted backwards and his arms detached, the seizure reached its climax, exploding in an array of dazzling white lights that blinded even the death god.

When the flash rescinded, in the smoke stood Forenius, naked as a newborn, caring himself with the grace and composure of a god himself.

Screaming in rage, the dark one charged the resurrected paladin, but his bloodied fists were caught in those of the warrior who looked into his void with eyes that glowed of lightning. The two were of matched strength.

Forenius, his voice now louder than the warcries of an entire host, than all the foghorns upon the entire stretch of Imperial coast blown at once, growled, “I am the thunder god!”

With a swift kick, he planted his arch foe through three walls and outside the fortress, to tumble in the garden as he tried to regain his balance.

The knight was upon him before he had a chance to find his bearings and made with several vicious kicks to the head, knocking off his great horned helmet.

He picked up the helmet, and using it as a curmudgeon, bludgeoned his enemy with it until he laid senseless, heaving with hematic coughs of teeth and blood.

Reaching down, the former king unsheathed the murder god’s long sword.

The weapon seemed to gather the very shadows unto it, and sent an unnatural chill even up his recently deified spine.

With a long backstroke and a bestial glint in his eye, he beheaded the unholy one with one sound blow.

He reached down and scooped up the gory head of the daemon king and bore it back within the fortress, casting it at the feet of the blanched vampiress.

She was speechless but for a second, but her silvery tongue slipped into action soon enough.

“Lord, if but you’d allow me to live…”

One quick stroke of her father’s blade cut the sentence short and spattered Forenius’s face with the tainted blood. He wiped it from his countenance.

“Your terror is over,” Claimed the thunder god as faded from the palace and dropped the chaotic weapon to the stone floor with a hollow clanking, the only noise within the emptied hall as the carrion birds soared high overhead.

A few seconds later erupted in an explosion of brimstone and sulfur, the purifying flame serving as the funeral pyre for an age.

……………………………

EPILOGUE

Larson mulled alone through the high gardens, the crown weighing heavy on his brow. It’d been a great many months since he’d heard but anything of the Lady’s menace, the north men sent to dispatch her.

He’d accepted the relic hammer as lost, but found the silence as troubling.

The half elf sat upon a bench and gazed about at atrium. It, like the rest of the kingdom, had taken damage, but was recovering slowly, rebuilt and returned to a calmer, more tranquil antebellum state. His eyes traveled up the castle wall, climbing up as they always did, to Valonia’s chambers. He’d ordered it left untouched and the servants had been obedient thus far.

The bounty hunter buried his head in his hands and sighed heavily.

Then, a familiar voice whispered from behind him, “You truly did love her, didn’t you, my brother of blood?”

The hair on his neck stood on end and he twirled about to look behind.

“Forenius?” He asked, uncertain, although he doubted he’d gone mad nor that his eyes and ears were conspiring against him.

But there he was, his old friend, the departed emperor, Forenius, in armor that shined bright as the sun and a cloak blue as the sky on a clear day. A silver crown sat upon his brow, pushing up his hair, still kept cropped short as he’d remembered in life. A claymore that crackled with the energy of the storm was slung across his back and his eyes glowed a pure white.

The friends embraced and then the questions began.

“But how? Your body? I saw it cremated…”

Laughing, the holy warrior silenced his companion. “Never you worry. Yes I did pass from this world, but I’ve become something much bigger than I was before.”

“But..”

“I am glad to see that you rule, as I would’ve had it.”

“And…”

Another laugh as Forenius shook his head. “Just be quiet before you talk me out of your gift.”

“What?” Now the half-breed was most sternly puzzled.

Forenius seized his shoulders and turned him to face the window that had once belonged to his sister.

He whispered, “Just go. She’s waiting…”

Larson turned, confused, but found himself alone. Suddenly, he heard the words in his head again.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time, dashing up them at dizzying speeds that would’ve sickened a man any motivation less than that of true love.

After all, she was waiting….


THE END



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PostPosted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 3:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, that's the end, guys. I hope you liked it.

Hopefully work will slow down enough for me to churn out something new.
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 6:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Aaaahhhh! A luvvy ending. Crying or Very sad

Well done Jack. Truly an epic!!

Cheers Clapping Cheers Rock On Thumbs Up Thumbs Up Bye Bigg drunk cool3
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