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=AQ= Clash in the West War Stories

 
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6/5/2014 16:56:46   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


Here is where you may post your War Stories. Have fun and please remember to follow the rules in both AE forums and the L&L rules.

For this thread :

1) One post per person. If you have an ongoing story, please just edit your post to continue it. Do not make a new post to add to your story. New major events in AQ will receive a new thread.

2) Please do not comment on the stories in this thread. If you wish to comment on the stories, please go to =AQ= Clash in the West War Stories Commentary
.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 1
6/5/2014 17:14:10   
kors
Member

Burned to the Ground


Part I: Up in Flames
A familiar shout greeted Kor as the door opened to an impressive hall in the Stormfallen castle, “How many dead? One village on our land, burned and taken by Rennd... Who let this happen?” The half dozen Knights gathered around the queen all stared at one another in awkward silence.

It had been a few months since Kor had last set foot in the large castle, and that was a time of celebration. Today was the aftermath of an attack, and what seemed like a prelude to war once more. It was going to be a long day, and an even longer war.

Before anyone could say a thing, Cerin entered. His chin gleamed in the lightly lit room, forcing all eyes upon it. “Queen Tyranna,” the Chin nodded in greeting to the glaring queen, “King Tralin sends his regrets for the soldiers lost, and would like to lend his assistance in investigating this attack.”

Several other Derenian knights streamed in after their leader’s introduction and bowed. It was only a small force, their numbers barely matched that of the demons running to and fro in the great hall behind them. Kor had questioned Tralin’s and Cerin’s judgement when they had dragged him from his home in their kingdom for their almost token support of his queen. They promised to help defend Stormfallen, to wage war alongside the Demon knights, should the kingdom come under attack.

His queen seemed to agree as she scanned the group, “Is this all the aid I shall receive, I thought you had pledge your support should Rennd or Granemor shatter the peace we won? Rennd and Granemor have to answer for this atrocity, whether or not Deren supports it!” She slammed her fist on her throne, bringing the entire castle to a halt as the crunching sound echoed throughout the massive stone structure.

“My queen?” Kor stepped forward, “Are you sure it was either of them that attacked the village? The reports I saw all had conflicting claims to the land around the village.” He handed the papers to Tyranna and watched as she read through the thick book the Derenian knights had compiled.

Each one left her angrier and angrier. After almost an hour’s worth of reading she through the report, Tyranna looked up at Cerin. She threw the dossier on the stone floor with a resounding thump. “This has nothing useful in it, Cerin. You mean to tell me that you knights have been unable to determine who did this atrocity? And that you would listen to overzealous, holier-than-thou knights of Rennd or the revenge driven forces of Granemor who want to stop at nothing short of my people’s destruction?”

Cerin and his chin nodded once, “I understand your anger, but both you and Rennd have laid claim to the land in recent years. Both of your kingdoms are our prime suspects, but we have yet to have any sort of revealing evidence to even say for certain either kingdom has done anything beyond sending soldiers to the burned ruins at almost the same time. Until the time comes that we know who did what, this is all the support you will receive. Please understand that we are more interested in justice, rather than the punishment.” A low rumbling growl came from Tyranna as Cerin stood his ground a mere couple feet away from the queen.

Time seemed to almost slow down around the two as neither changed their positions, or in Tyranna’s case, her growl. Cerin had his trademark grin running along the top of his chin. Tyranna only glared and growled, a clawed hand covering her mouth.

Minutes, than a whole hour passed as the two continued their passive aggressive argument in silence. “Are we going to spend the entire day, a day which we should be using to take back the ruins of that village from Rennd I might add, watching you two stand in total silence?” a Demon knight asked, tapping his armored foot incessantly.

“He is right, commander,” a Derenian knight stood up as he voiced his discontent, “The longer we wait here means the longer the village has to be altered to suit the culprits needs.

Both leaders broke their unmoving silence and motioned to leave, finally on the war path. The truce was in danger of going up in flames, just like the village that started it all.

Part II: Ordered into the Fray
Fires burned in the almost deserted village. Corpses were scattered among the ruins, sprinkled generously along the entire area. All were covered in heavy plate mail, shaped and painted in the forms of their kingdoms. In the distance the banners of the two other kingdoms, as well as those of several minor neighboring kingdoms, waved in warning.

“So they are coming...,” the flap of his tent fell shut as he went and finished donning his iconic armor, the plate of the Chronomancers. He owed them loyalty first, but he had grown too attached to this timeline to not end up thrust into the thick of the world’s problems. Kor had grown to almost love the sight of an approaching army, an emotion that was rather off putting to both him and several others.

A pile of weapons all begged to be taken into battle, thirsting to be used. They all would have their use in such a mixed bag of soldiers he would have to fight through. He took a moment to rummage through them before settling on one. A wicked weapon, eternally poisoned by it’s warped nature, the Shadowscythe Breaker. It’s emblem glimmered excitedly for a brief moment as Kor lifted it up. It fit one of the darkest accusations thrown around by Rennd, corrupting humans and twisting them into more demons.

He thought back on his brief history with the beings responsible for this weapon. That was a dark time, but it was brought him to this point. Perhaps they had been demons, perhaps they were even distantly related to the ones in service to Tyranna in some way or another. But now was not the time to dwell on things that, to all but others like him, had never truly happened.

Kor headed outside, making a beeline for where Queen Tyranna and Sir Cerin were discussing the burned down village. The name of the little strip of land had never been mentioned, and had been unimportant to the conflict it started. Perhaps it’s name would never even reach the ears of those who end up writing the history books. “That would be quite a sad fate, burning only to be a nameless little hamlet that reignites a war that had until now only simmered,” he pushed his way through the bustling camp of red and green knights.

It was a relatively lively camp, what few Frogzard knights were with Cerin were busy preparing for what seemed to be an inevitable battle. Their armor providing a stark contrast with various shades of red and black that dominated the camp. It likely would be a stunning blow to the uninformed members of Rennd and Granemor’s army to see them among the “villainous” demons.

“Reporting for duty!” Kor bowed quickly as they both turned to look him.

“Good. We want you on the frontlines,” his queen had a vicious grin plastered on her face as she directed Kor, “Lead the charge against Rennd, and if possible bring me Tathlin!”

Cerin glared at his ally, “Alive. We are going to hold a trial, and we can’t do that with only his head.” His chin seemed to almost nod in agreement, despite no other part of his head moving.

“Labal reporting for duty, my queen!” Kor looked down to see a dark red Moglin with eerie glowing red eyes. His voice was an oddly deep, almost demonic, tone that seemed unusual for his small body.

“You are to go with Kor’s battalion. Heal him and the others as necessary. Now go. Cerin and I have matters to discuss,” their queen waved them off. She and Cerin began heading for the main tent, filled the brim with maps and reports for the battle.

***

The knights around him shouted obscenities as he pushed his way to the front, to where Cerin had placed him. A poorly planned, last minute decision on his part. Only minutes remained before the order to charge would be given to the soldiers.

But even Popin had to agree that anything could happen to Tathlin if he was captured by Stormfallen’s forces alone. He had ordered another of band to join in the charge against Granemor’s forces, but that one had gotten his orders a little earlier than him.

Popin tightened his grip on both his shield and sword as he made it through the last row, to the man in charge. Kor gave him a curious look, one of recognition and brief shock. It vanished almost in the same instant it appeared, but it’s brief existence still made an impression.

He gave a brief salute to his temporary commander, “Sir Popin reporting for duty, sir! Sir Cerin just handed me the order to assist you and your knights in combat, I apologize for not receiving them sooner and arriving on time.”

“Well, glad to have you in the team... Popin, right? Well, I am Kor. Nice to meet you!” the words were not very well disguised, Popin could tell that they were not genuine. “Anyway, have we met before? You seem very familiar...”

The sound of the war horn blared through the burning rubble of the battlefield. “Sorry, don’t recognize you at all, Kor.” The horde of Demon knights rushed across the field and into the advancing soldiers of Rennd.

Part III: Heat of Battle
Knights of all kinds attempted to stop the advancing horde of Demon knights. All bore the sigil of Rennd and fought with an urgency one had at those hours leading up to their end. Hate and fear drove them forward, towards eventual victory and defeat.

One after another fell to the Chronomancer’s attacks. Many of them put up a decent fight before finally falling to his blade. If it were not for their hatred of demons and their magic, Kor would say that they seemed to be possessed. They refused to fall at the first, the second and sometimes even the third strike of the Shadowscythe Breaker, even at that it was always the corrupting poison that got them.

Both sides played an intense game of tug of war, pushing forward one hour then being pushed back the next. Neither side maintaining the momentum for long. Healers ran all over, dodging arrows, blades, and maces to heal their comrades. Soldiers darted from burnt down hovel to burning ruins and attacked everyone not barring their own colors.

An axe came down inches from his face, an arrow nicked the edge of his left pauldron. It all came as a constant stream of attacks directed at him and otherwise. A bolt of blackish lightning zipped by and struck a Pria knight, missing Kor and several others on each side by inches. Kor ripped his way through a green armored knight, leaving the poison and his brothers-in-arms to finish the job.

***


Making his way slowly through the oncoming waves of armored humans and the occasional horse, Popin found it quite annoying to keep up and stay among those leading the charge. He had been ordered to make sure that should they encounter Tathlin, which seemed even less likely as the battle wore on, that he would keep him alive. Lords knew they wanted him dead, as well as any who dared to tread on their toes.

He slammed his shield into into a Pria knight’s helmet, knocking the poor soldier to the ground. Popin sidestepped the axe as it’s wielder rushed him. The Frogzard knight’s sword ended the black-clad knight’s attack before it could get much further. Every few seconds another popped up, taking the place of the last one. They gave him no respite if they could.

A shout broke him out of his bloodshed focused mindset, “Hey! Greenie, need some healing? You can not serve Queen Tyranna very well like that.” An armored Moglin ran up to him, smashing the heavy mace it wielded into the legs of a Pria knight along the way. Popin paused to let the healer do his job. He held out his free hand and sent a wave of healing mana into Popin’s body. It felt so good to feel his pain and exhaustion vanish in seconds. “There, now get back to the fight Frogzard knight!” he swung at another enemy knight rushing towards them. The mace landed with a thundering slam to the black knight’s chest, sending him hurtling towards the ground.

***


“Come on, demons! We can not let them drive us back!” Kor shouted as he and his comrades were being pushed back once again. They could not win, should not win. Not here, not now, not ever. Their attitude had been exactly as the Paladin’s had been on that day, not too far into the future from now. Blind obedience to a cause that had been warped both by age and vengeance. Perhaps it would be ultimately better for all of Lore if they won, but the lives of the few are as precious as the lives of anyone else, even if they were lives not quite like everyone elses.

A Pria knight charged, sword overhead, “Die demon! May you suffer like my village did!” Kor leapt out of the way of his first slash, only to be struck by knight’s thick shield a moment later. Another slash came and left a deep gash along Kor’s left side, just missing his shieldless arm. “Quite careless of you. No shield makes you quite an open target,” the man muttered. Kor could almost hear the large grin he had hidden underneath his heavy helmet.

The Chronomancer began his own attack, slashing at the bronze colored warrior. Once, then again, and a third before leaping back to give himself some much needed space. A small twister ripped it’s way through the ground, then sped towards the Pria knight, launching half buried skulls every which way. It knocked the knight off his feet for just long enough to decide the victor. Kor pointed the tip of his blade at the little bit of exposed flesh at the neck. “You lose,” Kor said with a devilish grin, “Quite careless of you.”

With that final word, Kor finished the poor man off. He had enough of people seeking vengeance like this, joining the first who promised it and then blindly running into the thick of battle hoping they see the one who caused so much pain. If Rennd and Granemor both fell today, and their lands forfeited to Stormfallen, perhaps the long series of wars would finally end.


< Message edited by kors -- 6/9/2014 13:02:11 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 2
6/5/2014 19:58:53   
battlemaster25
Member

The Tale of Nie

Prologue: The End.... At the Beginning?

Scene: Battlefield of the war, late at night. Bodies of demons and 'Emoran knights are strewn about.

The scene was like something out of a nightmare. Corpses were absolutely everywhere, in various states of dismemberment. Crackling fires were strewn about along with discarded weaponry. In several places, the ground was so bloody that the dirt had turned to mud. Knights from both sides had been pinned to trees by arrows and impaled brutally on pikes. Not even the healers had been spared, as the dead moglins would show. Both sides, it seemed, had engaged in terrible slaughter. It was almost eerily quiet, with even the fires seeming subdued. In the distance, next to a withered old tree, a faint, raspy breathing could be heard. Closer examination would reveal a still-living 'Emoran knight laying on the ground.

Her icy-blue hair was cut short and speckled red with blood. Her face was cut and bruised in several places, and her skin was unnaturally pale, no doubt from blood-loss. Her eyes were a deep purple color, though they were tightly shut. Her armor was terribly worn, covered in chips and scratches. In several places, the armor plating had actually been torn off entirely. The most striking feature at the moment, however, was at her stomach. What seemed to be her own sword, that of an 'Emoran knight, had been stabbed clean through her. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and tried to remember who and where she was.

Nie. Her name was Nie, she knew that much. She struggled to remember the events that had led her here. She was in so much pain, it was a miracle that she could even form words. With a struggle and a fair amount of agony, she managed to turn her head. Next to her, mere feet away, was the body of a Demon Knight.... or more accurately a human in Stormfallen armor. Nie caught a glance at the dead knight's face, and gasped as a memory suddenly returned to her.

Flashback Scene: Beside the withered tree, some time before. Nie and the Stormfallen knight are facing each other.

The knight in Stormfallen armor was a young woman, around Nie's age. She had long white hair, dark skin, and piercing yellow eyes. The angry glares that both knights sported made it clear that they had met before.... and really didn't get along. After a moment of silence, Nie spoke.

"It's over, Maela. Your troops have been wiped out. Surrender now, and I will make sure you're treated well."

"Ha! Surrender to you!? Look around, your knights are in no better shape than mine! Besides, you think I don't know what Granemor does with their enemies?"


Nie sighed, but it was clear that this was the answer that she had expected. She drew her sword, but still made one last, token attempt at peace.

"Sir Arctus isn't pressing charges for attacking him, you know. You'd still be imprisoned for treason, but it's better than execution."

"Enough! You never learned when to stay silent, did you? We fight to the death, that's how it is."


Without another word, Maela suddenly swung her enormous mace around at Nie's head. Nie hefted her huge metal shield and blocked the attack with ease. Maela saw that Nie was occupied with blocking the mace. Taking the opportunity, she swung her own shield about, sending it smashing into Nie's shoulder. Nie reeled backwards in pain and nearly lost her balance completely. She still had some tricks up her sleeve, however, and suddenly swiped her sword at the air. A wave of powerful darkness magic channeled through the blade and struck Maela straight in the arm, the force of the blow causing her to drop her shield.

The two knights continued their struggle for some time, what seemed like an eternity. They traded hits with relative frequency, but it seemed that neither of them was willing to die. Finally, after more than an hour of dueling, things finally began to progress again. Nie whirled her leg around and kicked Maela sharply in the head. Her ears ringing, Maela stumbled around for a moment. Without wasting any time, Nie swung her sword upwards and knocked the mace out of Maela's hand. Maela screamed in rage and leaped at Nie, tackling her to the ground. She managed to wrestle the sword out of Nie's hand, and drew the sword upwards. As if in slow motion, she brought the sword down into Nie's stomach, viciously impaling the 'Emoran knight. As Maela stood up to collect herself, however, there was a terrible cracking noise, and she collapsed to the ground next to Nie. In Nie's hand was Maela's fallen mace, freshly removed from its owner's skull.

Her entire body wracked with pain, Nie pulled desperately at the blade in her stomach for a moment, trying to remove it. Gradually, however, she faded into unconsciousness.

End Flashback


Yes, that was how it had happened. She remembered every detail of the fight with astonishing clarity. In fact, she wondered how long she had been unconscious for. Shouldn't she have been dead by now? And what had happened before, to lead to the battle? Who was this "Sir Arctus" that she had mentioned? She strained her mind, trying to remember back to how it had all began.....

End of Prologue.

-----------------------------------------------------

Chapter I: One Knight, Two Knight


Flashback Scene: Granemor, immediately after the war had begun. General Herous is rallying the troops.

It seemed like every 'Emoran knight on Lore had gathered outside their city's gates, prepping for war. The distinctive clanking of metal filled the air, as knights donned their armor and passed around weaponry. The Koofu chittered anxiously in their pens, no doubt knowing that they would soon see battle. Interestingly, this sentiment seemed to be shared by many of the knights as well, who were chatting aimlessly amongst themselves. It was in this group that Nie herself stood, although one might not immediately recognize her. Her armor was freshly-polished, and there was not a scratch to be seen on her face. She was nervous, she'd never experienced all-out war before, just small skirmishes. A hand reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, and a voice spoke.

"Well, if it isn't 'Sir' Nie. I'm surprised you had the guts to show up."

Nie turned to face the newcomer and scowled in displeasure. It was none other than Maela, dressed in the standard 'Emoran knight armor. When Nie replied, her tone was irritated beyond belief.

"Do you want something from me, Maela? I'm in no mood for your nonsense."

"Ooh, the little knight is feeling grumpy today. I'll leave you to your business, try not to run away while I'm gone."


Nie growled loudly in anger. Maela laughed nastily, clearly enjoying the effects her taunts were having. Nie was about two seconds from punching Maela's lights out when a loud sound rang out. Any reasonably-trained knight would recognize it as the sound of a hunting horn, announcing the arrival of a band of knights. Nie looked over to where the horn had originated from, and saw an enormous army of armored figures approaching. The dark, brown-ish color of their armaments made their identity quite clear: Pria Knights of Rennd.

The leader of the group of Pria knights approached the assembled 'Emorans, and another figure emerged to greet him. It was General Herous himself, looking rather grim. The leader of the Pria knights removed his helmet, and General Herous spoke.

"Soldiers!"

His deep, booming voice echoed across the entire area. Instantly, all of the 'Emoran knights went silent and turned to face the General.

"For those who do not know him, I would like to introduce Sir Tathlin of Rennd. A fine warrior, if I say so myself."

"You flatter me, General, but I'm afraid that now is no time for pleasantries."

"Hmph. Indeed not. War has come to our parts again."


At this, Tathlin signaled to his knights, and they formed ranks right next to the 'Emorans. General Herous spoke again, now addressing the entire crowd.

"Last night, a battle took place at a village in western lands. It was a terrible slaughter, none survived."

"Our evidence suggests that it was the demon forces of Stormfallen who instigated the attack. This is a clear violation of the ceasefire between our realms."

"To make matters worse, our former ally Cerin has sided with the Demon Queen in this matter."

"In short, the war with the demons has returned full-force. My troops will be marching west within six hours. General, can I count on your men as well?"

"Indeed you can, Sir Tathlin. I intend to see this out to its bitter end."


Tathlin seemed to be pleased with the General's response. However, something about Herous's attitude struck him as a bit strange. He brushed off his concerns and returned to the matter at hand. He began barking orders at his troops, forming them into various divisions and organizing specific formations. General Herous started to do something similar with the 'Emoran knights. However, he suddenly seemed to realize something and spoke up again, so that the entire army could hear him.

"One more thing, soldiers! In addition to our attacking forces, we will need volunteers for a more dangerous operation. We need to know about the movements of the demon armies. To this end, a small scouting force is to be sent deep behind enemy lines. I recommend only the bravest of you to volunteer. I won't lie, you likely won't return. If you have the heart for it, say 'I' now."

A few voices rang out, volunteering to join the scouting mission. General Herous looked slightly disappointed, as if he were expecting more. A couple more knights volunteered. To Nie's surprise, another voice called out next to her.

"I!"

It was Maela, who grinned smugly at Nie as she did so. It was clear that she thought that Nie was too cowardly to ever do something so dangerous. Perhaps she might have been right. Nie looked down at the ground, pondering something. Would she really let Maela get the better of her? General Herous looked at all of the knights who had volunteered, and cleared his throat.

"Is there anyone else? .....No? Then please join-"

"I!"


Maela's eyes widened. That was the absolute last thing that she had expected. Nie, that spineless weakling, volunteering for such a dangerous task? She looked into Nie's eyes and saw a sense of determination that hadn't been there before. Grudgingly, Maela nodded her head in respect. General Herous, who wasn't used to being interrupted, regained his composure.

"Ha! Excellent. I think that will be enough for a scouting party. As I was saying, please join Sir Arctus at Stormfallen's borders tomorrow morning."

End Flashback


Nie pondered this latest memory in some detail. So this was how she knew Maela, but why didn't they get along? Why did Maela regard her as a coward? She also knew that Sir Arctus was the leader of the suicidal scouting mission, and that he would later get attacked by Maela. Why? And for that matter, how did Nie herself end up leading an attack force against the traitorous Maela? There were more corpses on the battlefield than there had been volunteers. In some ways, this latest memory had raised more questions than it had answered. Nie hoped that she would be able to recall more. She felt her life slipping away every moment.

End of Chapter.

-----------------------------------------------------

Chapter II: Fragments


Flashback Scene: Stormfallen Border, early morning. Nie and the rest of the volunteers meet with Sir Arctus.

Arctus did not look like a particularly imposing figure. In fact, he was quite short, being nearly a head shorter than Nie, who wasn't huge herself. However, his small stature made him quite speedy, and he was wickedly clever in combat. He had dark skin, which contrasted with his thick mane of light-gray hair. His eyes were a deep green color, and were constantly narrowed, as if he was analyzing every situation. Nie remembered seeing what looked like a long scar across his neck, but attention was never drawn to it. He spoke up, addressing the group of volunteers. His voice was gravelly and hoarse.

"If you're here, then you already know what we're doing. Our primary goal is to discover how the demons plan to attack. We will split into five groups. If you discover any information of note, send one member of the group as a messenger immediately. That way, if your group is compromised, the info will still make it back. Act as stealthily as possible, but be ready to fight at a moment's notice. It isn't a matter of 'if the demons discover you', but a matter of 'when'. Messengers, it is your duty to make it back to Granemor, no matter how many demons are after you. Anyone else that remains, meet up back here in twelve hours. Any questions?"

"No Sir!"

"Good. Let's get this done."


Within a few minutes, the knights had been split off into groups and headed into Stormfallen territory. Nie, of course, had gotten stuck with Maela. On the bright side, at least Sir Arctus was there to keep them from fighting. As they crept across the land, Nie noticed that Maela was acting rather different from how she normally seemed. Instead of her normal condescending glare, she had an anxious expression, and she was acting rather fidgety. Nie wondered if it was fear, or perhaps something else. Sir Arctus had undoubtedly noticed as well, because he suddenly spoke.

"Sir Maela, is something the matter? You're quaking in your boots."

"It's..... nothing, sir. Just a little stress."

"Hmph. If you say so. I need you to be focused on the present."


For perhaps the first time ever, Nie felt sorry for her rival. Whatever her issue was, it was obviously more major than "a little stress". Nie didn't dwell on the matter for long, however, as they drew ever deeper into demon territory.

End Flashback


This particular memory was fascinating, but didn't really answer any of her questions. Nie was rather frustrated and desperate by this point, she knew that she was down to her last few minutes. The pain had all but subsided, leaving only an odd numb feeling. In the back of her mind, she felt a sort of black void, gnawing away at her consciousness. It was only then that she fully realized the terror of her situation, dying alone and forgotten. Something, however, suddenly distracted her from her misery. A distinctive, repeating pattern of beats. Footsteps in the distance, she was certain of it. She prayed that the newcomers would find her.... and that they were friendly. It would be a moment before they arrived, however, and Nie had suddenly recalled another memory.

Flashback Scene: Stormfallen, mid-afternoon. Things have gone very wrong in Nie's group.

The suddenness of the scene was shocking, after the fairly calm memories before. A large group of demon knights had encircled the party. Nie was held tightly in the grip of two of the demons. Sir Arctus was lying on the ground, bleeding profusely and writhing in pain. Several of the demon knights were murmuring amongst themselves, though Nie could not understand what they were saying. A few of them were laughing coldly. How had they ended up like this?

The answer was Maela. Maela was standing over the wounded Sir Arctus, an enormous mace held in her hands. She stared disdainfully at him for a moment, then turned and approached the captive Nie. Nie realized that Maela hadn't been afraid earlier.... she was waiting for the demons to ambush them! Nie immediately confronted her, her voice shaking with anger.

"When did you betray us, and why?"

Maela responded by kicking Nie hard in the gut. She would've keeled over in pain, if it weren't for the two demons gripping her arms. After a moment, however, Maela deigned to answer the question.

"Three years ago, I learned the truth about Granemor's benefactors. My brother was a knight too, until he fell. They took his corpse and turned it into a monster."

"So you joined the demons. Betrayed your country and sold out your own comrades. You'll get no sympathy from me."

"Don't you dare judge me! You're complicit with that necromantic filth!"


As she said this, Maela moved to strike Nie with her mace. However, she changed her mind, seeming to think that Nie deserved more suffering. She gestured for another demon knight to step forwards. This particular knight was enormous and mean-looking even by Stormfallen standards. His features were cruel and skull-like, and he carried no less than six different swords on his person. Maela addressed the knight.

"Sir Wraith, do me a favor and keep our little knight occupied. I have to report to my superiors."

The demon knight, Sir Wraith, chuckled menacingly and flashed a large grin.

"With pleasure. Hopefully she won't die too quickly on me, that wouldn't be any fun....."

As Maela turned and walked away, the two demons released their grip on Nie's arms, and she fell to the ground. Wraith drew one of his swords, an enormous black blade, and stabbed it into her back. The wound was not deep, but it was immensely painful. Slowly, he removed the blade and repeated the process. It was clear that Wraith was having far too much fun with torture. The next time he went to drop the blade, however, Nie acted. She suddenly caught the sword in her hands and wrenched it from the demon knight's grip, climbing to her feet. Wraith let out a hearty laugh and taunted her.

"Ha! Is the little knight going to duel me? This should be good."

"Not for you."


Nie concentrated for a moment, focusing her inner darkness, just as all 'Emoran Knights are taught. A powerful wave of darkness magic exploded outwards from her body, and she rushed headlong at Sir Wraith. With an inhuman amount of strength, she smashed him to the ground and carried on. As the dazed Wraith tried to gain his bearings, Nie hefted the wounded Sir Arctus over her shoulder and then made a run for it, sprinting faster than she ever had before.

End Flashback


Nie grimaced as she recalled all the details of that particular encounter. It was a shame that she didn't know more about Maela's story, but at least she'd filled in the gaps. The demon knight Sir Wraith was a twisted fellow, she was rather glad to have escaped from him. Her pondering was interrupted, however, by the arrival of the footsteps she had heard before. From the sound of things, they were swarming throughout the battlefield, no doubt searching for signs of life. She tried to look around and catch a glimpse of the newcomers, but most of her body was completely paralyzed now. Again, she felt a wave of darkness threatening to consume her, but she continued to resist with all of her might. She wondered how much blood was left in her body, it couldn't be much. She heard the grass crunching behind her, and a voice called out.

"Sir! We've got a live one! Granemor, by the looks of things."

There was a loud rustling sound as the knight in charge rushed over towards where the soldier had called out. The commanding knight stepped into Nie's view, and her heart sank. Green boots. It sank even lower when the figure kneeled down in front of her, and she caught a good look at his face. Frogzard armor, unnatural chin, there was no mistaking him. Cerin himself was staring at her.

End of Chapter.

-----------------------------------------------------

Chapter III: Final Moments


Cerin stared at Nie in silence for a long moment. She wondered what he was thinking about, and what he intended to do. The other Frogzard knights had gathered around the area where Nie was laying. Cerin glanced up at them, his gaze clearly indicating that they should remain silent. After a moment, he addressed Nie.

"You've had a rough time, Knight of Granemor. Are you able to speak?"

"....Yes."


Nie's voice was weak and quiet, hardly more than a whisper. Cerin leaned closer as he continued the conversation.

"Can you tell me what happened here?"

"Fought the demons.... Ambush went wrong.... both sides are dead."

"Do you know if more soldiers are coming?"

"You are.... my enemy. Not telling you.... anything."


Cerin sighed quietly to himself. It was clear that this was the response that he had expected, but it still saddened him. Nie, for her part, was still highly loyal to Granemor, and would not freely give tactical information to her adversaries. Cerin seemed like a kind and reasonable fellow, but she couldn't afford for his knights to have an advantage. Compared to the stern-but-fair General Herous, Nie would probably describe Cerin as "soft", although she wasn't certain whether that was good or bad. Cerin stood up and began ordering around his knights, telling them to inspect the battlefield, and prepare for potential reinforcements from Granemor. As he worked, Nie suddenly had one last flash of memory.

Flashback Scene: Granemor, early evening. Nie has escaped from Stormfallen, and is reporting to General Herous.

".....and then I grabbed Sir Arctus and made a run for it. That's how I got back here."

General Herous frowned and stroked his beard, pondering the tale that he had just heard. He was very disappointed that his scouts had failed to gather any useful information. However, his armies had already gained the upper hand in the war, so no real harm was done. He stared down at the young knight in front of him. She was clearly exhausted by the ordeal, but otherwise seemed to be in reasonable condition. After a long silence, he spoke.

"You have done well, Sir Nie. Many knights would not survive a demon ambush."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sir Arctus should make a full recovery, but for now he is incapacitated. I need someone to fulfill his duties."

"You mean....."

"I hereby promote you to the rank of captain. You will lead our thirteenth squadron into battle."


Suddenly, the two were interrupted as a door burst open and a messenger scurried into the room. He seemed to be quite nervous. General Herous stared at the man in silence for a moment, as if waiting for the messenger to say something. The nervous messenger suddenly noticed the General's gaze and produced a report from his satchel. As soon as General Herous took the parchment, the messenger rushed out of the room.

"Hmph. I should probably call him back. Now, what have we here...."

The General read the report in silence for a moment. His brow narrowed as he read, but then it seemed like he had come up with an idea. He folded the report up and turned to face Nie. She looked at his expression, trying to judge what he was thinking, but found no success. Then, the General began to explain.

"According to this report, a band of demon knights are trying to flank our main fighting force. This sounds like a fitting task for a new commander."

"Yes sir, I'll take care of it."

"Glad to hear it. Gather your squadron and head west from the destroyed village. With luck, you should catch the demons off guard."

"I certainly hope so, sir."

"Oh, and there's one more thing. The traitor Maela is leading the demon group in question. Eliminating her is a top priority. Understood?"

"Yes sir. I won't fail you."


End Flashback


Nie sighed resignedly. General Herous hadn't mentioned anything about reinforcements. No help was coming for her. Hearing the sigh, Cerin returned his attention to Nie and knelt down again. He knew that she likely wouldn't give him any information. However, the knight's spirit fascinated him.

"You seem like a loyal sort, young knight. Do you know the secrets that your General hides?"

"You mean..... Necromancers."

"Granemor perpetuates the war for selfish gain. Why do you serve them?"

"Maybe.... selfish.... but keeps people.... safe."

"Perhaps, but it also puts countless knights in harm's way. There is no justice in that."

"Who are you.... to speak for..... justice?"


This response definitely made Cerin somewhat upset. It was a shame that he couldn't get this young knight to agree with him. He believed that her loyalty to Granemor had blinded her to the truth. At the same time, however, he could not help but respect her conviction. In another life, she would have been quite welcome among the Frogzard Knights. She didn't deserve this fate, he thought to himself. He could have her healed and interrogated for information, he realized. Perhaps that would be the best tactical choice. After a moment, however, he shook his head. Let the knight die with her honor intact.

Nie had been watching Cerin in silence. A variety of expressions had crossed his face, and eventually he shook his head. Unfortunately, however, she was in no condition to ponder the meaning of such things. The empty feeling had returned in full force, and it was clear that her time was finally up. Her vision blurred, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Cerin spoke to her again. In her mind, his voice seemed to be distant and only faintly audible.

"It seems we will never see eye to eye. However, you have my respects."

"......"

"Rest now, young knight. I will keep you no longer."


Cerin stood up and turned away, as Nie's breathing slowed. In her mind, everything had gone completely silent, and she could see very little. Gradually, she closed her eyes. A moment later, the entire area seemed to become slightly emptier. The raspy breathing had ceased. Thus ended the tale of the young knight Nie.

The End




The Crowsister

Chronicle One

Scene: Ruined Village, sunset. General Herous is arguing with Tathlin.

The forces of Rennd had discovered Granemor's connection with the necromancers, and they weren't happy. In fact, the alliance between the two kingdoms was breaking apart completely. General Herous and Tathlin were in the midst of a heated discussion, and did not notice that they were being observed.

The figure watching them was a mysterious woman, standing some distance away. She wore long, elegant black robes, along with a purple scarf which trailed at her feet. Her skin was deathly pale, which contrasted with her dark midnight-blue hair. Her hair was incredibly long, hanging down past her waist. Her face was hidden by an eerie white mask, which seemed to be carved out of bone. The mask was shaped roughly like a skull, and had no nose or mouth. The eye slits were narrow, and revealed the unnatural amber-colored eyes of its wearer. Perched on the figure's shoulders were two crows, and several more surrounded her. In her hands, she held a wicked-looking black scythe, adorned with a horned skull. She was standing completely still, and seemed to be listening to every word that the knights said.

".....on the field of battle, it will be as enemies. And I will show no mercy!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Tathlin stormed off to rally his army. General Herous stood still for a moment, mulling over the situation. Once Tathlin was out of sight, the mysterious figure approached General Herous. The General didn't notice her for some time, until she was literally right in front of him. He gasped and stepped backwards, brandishing his sword defensively. The masked figure spoke, her voice an emotionless whisper.

"At ease, General, I am not a threat to you."

"Who are you?"

"They call me the Crowsister, though that is not my true name."

"Hmm. I've heard of you. One of Obsidia's acolytes, correct?"

"Indeed. I offer you my services in this war."

"Why have you come to tell me this? Did Obsidia send you?"

"No. My goals are selfish. In truth, I seek to hasten the end of this battle, so that I might find someone that I lost."

"I'll welcome all the help I can get, but if Obsidia objects, you're out. Understood?"

"Be careful, General. Sometimes, the Hero dies at the end. Pray that you are not that hero."


As she finished this cryptic sentence, the necromancer known as Crowsister vanished in a burst of darkness, teleporting herself onto the battlefield and leaving behind a very confused General Herous. The moment she arrived, a Pria Knight lunged at her with his sword. She deflected his blade easily with her scythe, and then let out a low whistle. An enormous, glowing black crow materialized behind her, caught the Pria knight in its mouth, and viciously tossed him away. It was clear how the Crowsister had earned her name. Now, the question remained, who was she searching for, and why?

End Chronicle

-----------------------------------------------------

Chronicle Two


Scene: The Crowsister is fighting on the battlefield, and has attracted some unwanted attention.

It definitely seemed as though the enemy armies weren't happy about the necromancer's presence. She was under attack by forces from Rennd, Deren, and Stormfallen practically every few moments. She whirled about, slashing her scythe through foes, as her summoned crow familiar barraged anyone who tried to approach. Every now and then, she would stop and channel dark magic into a corpse, raising it as an undead, and send it off to fight its former allies. The 'Emoran Knights were confused as to who she was, but she seemed to be on their side, so they didn't bother her.

Her peculiar manner of fighting caught the attention of one particular knight nearby, who approached her cautiously. As soon as he got too close, the enormous magical crow turned and swooped down at him. Unlike the other knights, however, he was quite speedy, and sliced the summon in two with his scythe when it charged. The crow dissipated into a cloud of dark magic. The Crowsister was tied to her summon, and could sense when it was banished. She turned to face the newcomer. He was quite strange, not wearing the armor of any of the kingdoms. Instead, he wore the traditional Chronomancer's plate, and held a twisted scythe in his hands. The Crowsister spoke, intrigued.

"My, my. You are an interesting fellow. I am impressed. Who are you?"

"My name is Kor. I serve Queen Tyranna of Stormfallen. What is it to you, necromancer?"

"Mere curiosity. None had yet bested my summon. You have earned the honor of conversation. Shall we continue?"


As she finished her sentence, the Crowsister brandished her scythe, and a beam of dark magic burst out at Kor. He leaped to the side and then charged at the Crowsister. He made a move to slash at her with his scythe, only to find it blocked by her own. She thrust out her free hand, and a blast of darkness hit Kor straight in the chest, knocking him away. The Crowsister seemed to be interested in a good fight, and gave him a time to catch his breath.

"Why, may I ask, is a necromancer here on the battlefield?"

"I am present on my own behalf. I seek someone amidst the chaos."

"Who?"

"A knight of Granemor. One to whom I am connected."


Kor regained his bearings and raised his scythe defensively. The Crowsister charged towards him herself, whirling her scythe about, hoping to knock Kor off guard. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what she was doing. Seeing that her offensive strategy left her side exposed, the slashed with his own scythe. It cut clean through her robes, and left an enormous gash in her side. She clutched at it in pain, and Kor raised his scythe for the kill. Just then, the Crowsister whistled, and Kor would find himself slammed to the ground by enormous talons. The crow familiar had been re-summoned. With an impressive amount of strength, Kor threw the crow off of him. He tried the slash the crow with his scythe again, but the Crowsister deflected his blow with her scythe.

"I've just realized that you never introduced yourself, miss necromancer."

"I am called Crowsister. This is not my name."

"I can see why."


The crow caught Kor's arm in its beak, preventing him from swinging his scythe for a moment. The Crowsister slashed with her own blade, and carved a large gash into the chronomancer's armor. The actual injury to his flesh, however, seemed to be shallow. Kor broke his arm free of the crow's grip and immediately sliced his scythe diagonally, banishing the crow again. Then, with an alarming level of speed, he whirled the scythe about at the Crowsister. She tried to raise her scythe to block, but the force of the blow tore it from her hands. Kor bashed the side of the Crowsister's head with the handle of his scythe, and she fell to her knees. Kor held the blade of the scythe to her throat. The Crowsister spoke again, and this time her cryptic tone was gone. She suddenly seemed far more human, as her voice quaked with desperation.

"Not yet.... Please, not yet...."

"Why should I spare you? This is a war, and we're on opposite sides."

"Because I must find her. I must."

"Her?"

"The one that I'm looking for. My sister."


Kor considered this information for a moment. He wasn't supposed to show mercy to his adversaries, especially since she had killed so many of his comrades. After all, would she spare him if their positions were reversed? Somehow he doubted it. He raised his scythe, and the Crowsister closed her eyes tightly behind her mask. She heard the sound of the scythe swishing through the air, and then a thud. There was no pain, though. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The scythe was stuck in the ground in front of her. Kor seemed uncertain of himself, glancing around to see if any other demon knights were around.

"Get out of here before I come to my senses. Next time we meet, I won't be so kind."

"Thank you, knight of Stormfallen."

"Tell me, what is your real name?"

"Vella. Vella Eiren."

"Find your sister, Vella, and then get off this battlefield."


The Crowsister, Vella, scurried to her feet and ran from the area, leaving her fallen scythe behind. Kor sighed to himself, still uncertain as to whether or not that was the correct decision. He hoped that it wouldn't haunt him.

End Chronicle

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< Message edited by battlemaster25 -- 6/11/2014 16:28:00 >
AQ  Post #: 3
6/6/2014 2:56:16   
popinloopy
Member

The West's Largest Game of Whodunit

Chapter One: The Meeting

"...and would like to lend his assistance in investigating this attack.” Cerin's voice echoed throughout the castle. I took this as my cue to enter the scene, along with several other Frogzard Knights. The number of knights that joined to assist the queen was small, but it was an elite force. Some of Tralin's and Cerin's best warriors and knights. Only the best of the best trailed behind Cerin as he was introducing them all to Tyranna.
I glanced around the room, in case things turned sour. We were dealing with someone notorious for having a temper. One wrong word and this fragile "alliance" (if you so choose to call it that) would be shattered. It's more an uneasy truce than an alliance, but the term used to describe it made no difference. Help was help, and both sides wanted it. I kept an eye out for anything of use, should our ambassador and leader say something to displease the demon queen. Of course, he's a master tactician and knows how to deal with angry people. Still, never hurts to be prepared. There was a weapon rack in the corner that could be useful, had we not brought our own weapons. A chandelier hanging above, but it was placed in the center of the room where nobody was standing. Some rocks that could be thrown, but blades serve better. Health and mana potions... those could be useful. One particular demon knight looked gruff and ready to fight whatever stood in his path. Another looked like he was used to all this, and dealing with situations like this were an everyday occurrence. And in the corner of the room opposite the weapon rack... Oh my! I looked toward my old friend Kor and grinned. He caught my look and grinned back. Looks like this war would have us be allies, and not enemies. We'd crossed blades before in the past, and a winner was never decided. We're both strong, though.

Tyranna spoke, sounding angry. “Is this all the aid I shall receive, I thought you had pledge your support should Rennd or Granemor shatter the peace we won? Rennd and Granemor have to answer for this atrocity, whether or not Deren supports it!” She brought her fist down upon her throne, and a loud crunching noise resonated throughout the entire castle. The noise was enough to halt everyone in their tracks. My old friend Kor walked up to the queen and spoke to her. He handed her one of our reports on the scene. After about an hour, she thew all our research on the floor. She was furious at this point. "This has nothing useful in it, Cerin!" After her outburst, Cerin said a few words I didn't catch. This was going to be boring after all. She's angry alright, that's for certain. It doesn't look like she'll try to assault anyone or send her knights after us, though. Well, at least not yet.

Cerin and Tyranna had a staring contest for what seemed like an eternity. Cerin was grinning the entire time, while Tyranna was emitting a low growl. Finally, a Stormfallen knight spoke up. “Are we going to spend the entire day, a day which we should be using to take back the ruins of that village from Rennd I might add, watching you two stand in total silence?” a Demon knight asked, tapping his armored foot incessantly. One of my fellow knights of Deren spoke up, but I didn't pay attention to who. “He is right, commander. The longer we wait here means the longer the village has to be altered to suit the culprits needs." Both leaders finally nodded in agreement to their followers' statements. Wordlessly, the two sent their troops into the fray with just a quick look in their directions. This would be an uneasy peace, there's no doubt in that. But for now, it's all the hope we have. We have to cling to it. I armored up and left the castle ready to war.


Chapter Two: Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How?


I headed out into the abandoned village, as I was "ordered" to. While everyone else was on the frontlines, I had been ordered to further investigate what happened. Well, rather, that's how I interpreted Cerin's nod in my general direction. Let the others fight for bloodshed all they want, I just seek knowledge. Once I had arrived to the village, I realized something. The fires had already been put out. Houses still stood where they once were, some with bits missing and charred sides, but no house had completely fallen that hadn't already been found fallen during the first inspection. Someone took great care to make sure the whole village still stood. The air, however, still smelt burnt. Smoke was still rising from the ashes as if it were a phoenix, a few embers were still showing amidst the rubble, and... there. The ash was fresh, yet there were footprints. The building they led to had the door slightly ajar. As I walked closer, I heard the faint sound of someone rummaging about grow slightly more audible the closer I crept. Silently, I made my way to the door. I peered inside, unsure if opening the door would cause it to creak or make any noise. From what I could see through the thin slit, there was someone inside. I couldn't quite make out what they were wearing. Armor? Maybe. If so, what color? No point in asking myself questions that I can't answer, especially if the answer lies just a few feet ahead. Cautiously, I opened the door. It made no sound, but I could feel the eyes on me immediately. Anyone with common sense would have been watching the door to make sure they aren't spotted during a war. I don't think I was noticed yet, though. He or she wasn't taking any action. I still heard the sound of someone moving things. There must be at least two people in there. I opened the door wider, enough to get a half-decent look. I still had yet to be noticed, but my suspicion was confirmed. Two people inside, but the right part of the building was still in a blind spot. Possibility for a third person, but not likely. Upon further inspection, one was wearing red and black armor, while the other was wearing... oh, you've GOT to be kidding me. One of Tyranna's knights was keeping guard over a Pria Knight. That traitorous swine! I burst through the door, but it appears as if the demon HAD noticed me after all. His mace had already been in his hands and had swung at me before I even made it through the door. He was just keeping an eye on me, seeing if I would interfere or not. Now that I was in, he took action.

I dodged the mace easily, swiftly moving behind him and bashing him in the head with the handle of my spear. Before he could whirl around, I pinned him to the ground with my spear and turned around. I grabbed my knight's sword while my spear was being used. Before the Pria Knight could escape, I dashed after him. A quick slash across the chest, and he was already begging for mercy. Carrying him next to the Demon Knight and using my sword to pin him as well, I began my interrogation. "You first, traitor. What is your purpose here, and why are you guarding the enemy?" His answer was less than stellar, but shocking nonetheless. "If you had just passed this building by, just left us alone, this would have gone much smoother. I guess I'll fess up, then. I was TRYING to get on this knight's good side and make him think I was betraying Queen Tyranna, hoping he would spit out some information if I gained his trust. He said he was looking for something important in this building. A relic of sorts. That was all the information I got out of him before YOU stepped in and RUINED THE WHOLE OPERATION!" Clearly, he wasn't pleased with me. Oh well, what can you do? Haters gonna hate. (Author's note: that line was physically painful to write.) I turned to the Pria Knight next. "What is it you were searching for, and why is it important? Also, what IDIOT in their right mind trusts an enemy around ONE HOUR after a war starts?! If this is what Tathlin's army consists of..." I grumbled. After a moment of silence, I spoke up. "I hope you realize I asked you a question. It'd be in your best interest to answer. What and why?" Silence still followed. "You're one of those 'You have to beat me in a fight first' guys, aren't you?" After he nodded, I removed my sword from his armor, and my spear from the Demon Knight's. "You're not free to go yet, I just need my spear to kick this guy's butt. Alright then, en garde!" As I was about to strike, the little wimp tried to run away from the fight. I hopped on my frogzard, caught up with him, and knocked him flat on his back. "WHAT AND WHY?" He threw his head back and... why was blood spilling out? Oh... I guess he threw his head back onto his sword to avoid interrogation. Clever, I suppose. Though he could've just actually fought me.

The Demon Knight wasn't very happy. He had his queen's temper. "YOU BLITHERING BUFFOON! IF YOU HAD JUST MINDED YOUR OWN BUSINESS, I WOULD HA-" Before he could finish, I simply help up my hand. He was silenced immediately. "If you're not happy, we could fight." "BRING IT ON!" Well, clearly he doesn't know that THAT'S an easy way to lose a limb. Maybe two. Or possible all of them. He drew his mace and tried to strike immediately. Keyword being "tried." I dodged him the first time, didn't I? This is no different. I deftly avoided it and punched him. Yeah, just punched. Nothing spectacular. "Might as well interrogate you, then. Why was this place so cared for? When I got here, all the fires were put out." He lunged clumsily at me, hoping that I couldn't talk and fight at the same time. This guy got into Tyranna's army? "It was like this when I found it. Another thing I was going to ask that knight before YOU showed up and mes-" "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're not happy with me." A quick and nimble movement brought me behind him, where I kicked the back of his legs and brought him down. I proceeded to kick his head. "Are we done here?" "TYRANNA WILL BE HEARING ABOUT THIS!" *Sigh* some people really know how to hold a grudge, huh? On the way back, I noticed Cerin beside a tree with a group of Frogzard Knights. What on Lore is he doing with a dead 'Emoran Knight? Wait... I used my expertise in medical magic and found that the knight was still alive, but just barely. If I headed there fast, maybe I could... no. Cerin is capable of healing that knight. If he had wanted her to survive, he would have healed her. I took the Demon Knight's advice and minded my own business, not bothering to interfere.

< Message edited by popinloopy -- 6/11/2014 23:29:37 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 4
6/6/2014 22:31:53   
Razen
Member

The Storm Brews; the Fire Burns


Ingmar Arrives to the Front


"Ingmar," Tathlin spoke, "We're mobilizing. A village that was recently placed under our protection was attacked by Tyranna's knights."

"How bad is the situation?" I asked worried for the safety of the villagers.

"Macabre," Tathlin replied, "Our own knights lie dead alongside the Demon Knights that were assaulting the village. A sole scout is our only survivor, and he is how we know about this. General Herous and I have already visited the village itself, so I tell you not the words of another but my own."

"If Herous found it disturbing, then it truly must have been a grim sight," I responded. I knew Herous from my time in Granemor. His family was born of one of the minor kingdoms destroyed by Tyranna much like myself, but my village had become a protectorate of Rennd, so I felt compelled to join the ranks of the Pria Knights to defend my home like how Herous had founded the 'Emoran Knights. For this reason, I empathized with the man as he had lost that which I still was able to defend, home. That is not to say that the war was not rough on my end however. I was one of the few that knew the fate of Rennd's king, dead at the hands of Algern the Shadowknight.

"It was indeed," Tathlin assured me, "So I ask that you prepare the men under your command to ride to the battlefront. Tyranna and her Demon Knights will face justice for destroying this village of that we may be certain."

"Indeed, Tathlin," I replied, "I will do my best to avenge those lost. With luck, this may be the last of the villages lost in flames by Tyranna."

"Quite, Ingmar, but you must not tarry," Tathlin stated passionately, "You and your men are needed on the front."

Tathlin and I did not exchange any more words as the time for that was over. My entire squadron of knights were awaiting on horseback with a lone horse reserved for me. It was a brown horse with a grey mane and tail. My lance was kept with my horse. I knew only bits of magic as Rennd has to be suspicious of mages with the war with Stormfallen raging. My sword was that of the Pria Knights as was my shield. Sir Roderick was my brother in arms, and it was he that I would call to my aid.

We rode with the vigor of a man possessed which would seem ironic to those who know the Pria Knights well. Demons and thus possession were among Rennd's prime fears ever since the devastation in the West that preceded Tyranna's arrival. When Tyranna had arrived, the Paladin Order nor Rennd could not risk believing that she meant no harm, not after so many were lost in the war prior. Tyranna's fury saw to it that the minor kingdoms of the West fell to her might, and Stormfallen was born from the ashes like a twisted version of the tale of a phoenix. This was why we rode to battle with such passion that one would believe we each had were scorned by our foes as we were; this was why we fought against Tyranna and her Demon Knights.

Herous must have sent reinforcements as behind us were 'Emoran Knights on their Koofu mounts. I never did understand how the birds could bear the weight of their heavy armor, but they must be able to manage. The 'Emoran Knights were good men and great knights; there was a tale among the men that two 'Emoran Knights could withstand a legion of Demon Knights. The tale was false of course, but it gave a good idea of how enduring Granemor's men were. Tathlin and the other Pria Knights were not fond of the 'Emoran Knights' use of darkness magic, but we recognized that they were also an ally of necessity. We knew better than to make issue with our ally over it, so there was little conflict between the Pria Knights and the 'Emoran Knights.

Sir Ira was among the 'Emoran Knights trailing me and my men. I know not how I recall Sir Ira of Granemor, but I did. He was a vengeful man who let no grudges fade, and this was most present with his attitude to Tyranna and her knights. I knew that he refused to let any Demon Knights that came within his sight live, and his wrath assured that they would not survive his onslaught. The men Sir Ira felled were gone by the time any of Rennd's knights were able to reinforce him in the battle. We never learned what came to be of those corpses, but we didn't really care to be quite honest. We were in times of a desperate war, so the disappearance of corpses was the least of worries especially when it was our foes' bodies. I knew not if Sir Ira had recognized me from that battle whose name is lost on me.

The time had flown by as it seemed. Already, we were at the village and the battlefront. I suppose that my thoughts had kept me occupied for the ride, but I now was beset by the sight of the field. Demon Knights and Frogzard Knights had arrived only shortly before we had. Seeing one of Deren's knights reminded me of when one of their number had demanded access to Rennd's Royal Archives of which only the most trusted of Rennd were permitted. The Frogzard Knight had managed to strong-arm his way when he took Tathlin by surprise and stole one of our records. I know not what possessed them to commit such treachery, but they had found themselves on the side of Stormfallen which they would come to regret. The West will see no peace until Tyranna has fallen.

Focusing now on the scene around me, I saw the town lay in ruins. Crumbling stone walls beset by fire surrounded only by burning trees. On the ground, one could see the imprints of the bodies of knights. I knew not which belonged to the Pria Knights and which belonged to the Demon Knights. The villagers were all missing; the Demon Knights' assault had likely claimed all of them. It was as Tathlin had told me; it was indeed a macabre sight even without the bodies of the knights. General Herous and Tathlin had now arrived to the scene once more.

Sir Roderick and Sir Ira were at my side, and we were ready to attack the knights of Stormfallen and of Deren. Tyranna's men would pay for their destruction of the West, and Cerin's men would pay for their betrayal. Of this, I was certain.




I Hear the Battle Calling; Attack!


The battle had begun. Demon Knights and Frogzard Knights rushed our troops. To my surprise, undead had followed Herous's troops. They had fought alongside us. For the time being, I would not question it. Rennd could not risk losing its alliance with Granemor now, not before Tyranna was stopped. Rennd itself had called knights aligned to the Fire Lord and nature itself to its aid. Stormfallen had called upon more demons, and Deren had beckoned the Drakel to its cause. These would be the ones on battlefield alongside each of the four knight orders.

Tathlin had called for us to charge the Demon Knights who had gotten off of their Salamander mounts. With my lance in hand, I had my horse charge them alongside at least four other knights with Roderick among them. The speed of the horse and the weight of the lance gave my thrust its great power to impale an armored knight. The Demon Knights hadn't the time to avoid the cavalry attack; my lance had impaled one of them which had unfortunately rendered the weapon too unwieldy to be useful anymore. Roderick too had claimed one of the Demon Knights' lives. We circled around back to our main force. The Demon Knights had managed to knock some of the knights off of their horses, but Roderick and I were not removed from our horses. We would have assisted them, but there was too little of a chance that we would be able to save them to risk our own lives.

Once we made full circle, we dismounted and donned our armaments, the sword and shield of a Pria Knight. The Demon Knights marched forth with maces and shields in hand. Roderick, the other Pria Knights, and I made a signal that called forth a barrage of holy arrows to strike down our demonic foe. Blessed arrows seemed to have filled the sky with their great numbers, and the arrows found their mark: the Demon Knights and the Frogzard Knights. The knights of Stormfallen and Deren fell left and right to the great swath of radiant arrows. Forgive the hyperbole, but those that did not fall were bound to be wounded and blinded.

Perhaps I too was blinded by the radiant barrage as it seemed immediate that many of the men arose to continue fighting. The Frogzard Knights had their First-Aid Kits that was it. They had bandaged themselves and cured themselves of the temporary blindness. The Demon Knights that were struck with the full force of the barrage, on the other hand, rushed towards us and used their vile Demon Magic to drain our lifeforce, me included. I believe it was called the Soul Drinker. I would not falter as the light of Rennd filled my being. Yet more of the Demon Knights had drawn life from me, but I used magic through my fighting spirit to encourage myself to fight on. Roderick and the other Pria Knights had followed suit; we would not lose to Stormfallen's men.

I called upon the Elemental Lords themselves to bless my blade to grant it such purifying and holy might as to smite all the Demon Knights that lay before me. Tyranna's men would taste Evil's Bane, and they would not be able to withstand the righteous onslaught wrought before them. The might of my blows had fell two of the weakened Demon Knights. Roderick and the others had managed to end the others, but we had taken casualties.

Now the Frogzard Knights that had been bandaging themselves had come forth. Most were removed from their Frogzard mounts now, and they had called forth their own barrage of wounding arrows. It was then that the Undead and 'Emoran Knights came to our aid. The Undead took the brunt of the barrage, and they suffered little as the Undead do not wound nor bleed. I was glad to see Sir Ira alive, but I was haunted when I witnessed what transpired next. A massive wave of darkness spawned forth from Sir Ira and washed over the Frogzard Knights. After the attack, the knights of Deren were quivering in fear from what they just saw, yet I could not say that I wouldn't have done so in their place. It terrified me that Sir Ira was involved with such a dark magic, but I knew that discussion of such would have to wait until after Deren and Stormfallen were bested.

The Drakel and Demons came to support the faltering Frogzard and Demon Knights. The Water and Fire mages of the Drakel shot their spells and bolts of magic at us, but we stood strong. Sir Ira, however, must have sustained more damage than I had known as he quickly drew upon his inner strength to regenerate from his wounds. He too was as committed as I to ending the lives of the Demons and the traitors of Deren. Djinn both of Darkness and of Fire spawned forth to defend the Demon Queen, Tyranna. Those of fire spout swathes of flame that engulfed 'Emoran Knights and Pria Knights alike. With the Lords' blessing still upon my blade, Tathlin, Roderick, and I smote the demons as to cease their rains of heckfire.

A few Drakel Enforcers had come forth to fight. I called Roderick to my side and bashed one of them with my tower shield which dazed him. The two had struck me with their sword and shot a laser through their blade respectively. Roderick called one and I the other. They met our blades as we hacked and slashed at them. I had swung my sword in a semicircular fashion around me as to disarm my foe. The Enforcer's sword flung from his hands and grazed a Hellhound. Roderick's Enforcer was similarly downed relatively easily with its weak defense. The dazed Enforcer had gotten out of his daze, and he rushed towards me. I weathered his attacks and worn him out before I struck back in turn with a vicious counterattack, the Blade of Retaliation.

To my fortune, it was then that Azrael, the Moglin knight of Rennd, had managed to catch up to me and Roderick as to heal us as Moglins were quite professed at the art of healing. To my misfortune, the Hellhound that I grazed by disarming that Enforcer earlier must have been someone's pet as an unholy sight rushed towards me and Roderick. It was a Demon Knight of Stormfallen, yet it was unlike the rest. This was a Werepyre, one of the dark beasts of Darkovia. It was then that I remembered who it was. He was once a squire in the name of Rennd, but I suppose that he had left due to his affliction. Nonetheless, I would show him no mercy, no quarter. He had allied with Tyranna, and that meant that he must be stopped.

I kept Roderick at my side as it would take both of us to down this monster. "Before my fellow knight and I best you," I declared, "What is your name, Werepyre? Mine is Ingmar, Ingmar of Rennd."

The Werepyre snarled, "I am SteelClaw of Stormfallen, and you hurt my Hellhound."

"'Twas not my intention, SteelClaw," I assured, "I was simply disarming a Drakel Enforcer. Your hound simply came in the way of the Enforcer's blade." We exchanged not another word. The Werepyre charged with armored claws that were engulfed in flame. This was the ultimate technique of the Demon Knights, the Rite of Flames. The claws sank in through my armor and set me ablaze. I would not falter. Roderick bashed the Werepyre with his shield, dazing him. Once more, I healed myself by channeling magic through my fighting spirit. Our spirits would not fall nor would our health.

With the Werepyre dazed, I had the Lords themselves once more bless my blade as to perform Evil's Bane on this monster. Perhaps it would be enough to end this wretched thing's life. I ran towards the beast and slashed up, down, up, and smashed my blade into its body with holy might to finish it off. The Werepyre had faltered. With its poise broken, the Werepyre fell to the ground, but he was not truly fallen. He struggled to get up, but once he regained his posture, SteelClaw performed the Soul Drinker stealing some of my lifeforce to sustain himself.

I would have slain SteelClaw then, but a red moglin adorned in the armor of Stormfallen's knights had appeared to heal SteelClaw. SteelClaw then fled for the time being; he was likely preparing for our next encounter. To cover his retreat were his fellow Demon Knights as well as Frogzard Knights. One of the latter had challenged me. "Ingmar!" A female voice had declared, "I, Quixotic, will be your new foe!"

"I wish that your armor had horns, Quixotic," I replied, "Because it'd make it easier to see the greenhorn in you." She even seemed to chuckle at the joke, but she then had placed a magical blessing upon her weapon which allowed it to be harmonized with its element, Earth. Her blade could now petrify her foe, but it was unlikely that it would do so. She swung it at me, but I managed to block it with my tower shield which protected me from being petrified. I took the opportunity for a counterattack. I fiercely slashed upwards and took a defensive stance.

Quixotic would not be stopped so easily though even if she was a greenhorn. She whistled for her Frogzard mount and grabbed her lance as to thrust it into me. With my defensive stance, I was able to evade it however. When she circled around to take another shot, I had prepared to remove her from her Frogzard. My sword was ready to stab the Frogzard and kill it, and I was ready to go through with it. The Frogzard charged, and my sword met scaly flesh. To be more exact, the sword had slashed the leg of the Frogzard off. With only one leg, the Frogzard crashed into the ground and took Quixotic to the ground with it.

Quixotic struggled to get up, and I stood over her with my sword in hand. "Goodbye, Knight of Deren," I said solemnly. I could have thrust my sword into her heart to end her, but I now could not find the heart to do it. Those final words were all that I could muster. Some other knight could land the killing blow, but I was needed elsewhere.




Betrayal on the Battlefront!


It was a gradual change, but it seemed that Deren and Stormfallen's forces were weakening. Deren's knights were few in number for their acclaimed support for Tyranna if she were to find herself under attack again by Rennd and Granemor. The number of Frogzard Knights and Demon Knights were dropping as the minutes and then hours to days went back. The knights themselves were not alone in these diminished numbers, but their allies also seemed to have been drained of many of their men. This victory would certainly not last for long though as reinforcements were bound to be on their way for their forces just as well as Rennd and Granemor's.

It had probably been at least two days since I had encountered SteelClaw and Quixotic, the Demon Werepyre Knight and Frogzard Knight respectively. It would be of no surprise to me to see SteelClaw again, but I doubted that I would come upon Quixotic any more. She likely was based in the crossfire between the two armies after she was left with the wounded and crippled Frogzard as she was simply a greenhorn after all. I had only to wonder how long it would be before the Demon Werepyre returned for vengeance for his defeat and his Hellhound. His Demon blood would insure that he would seek his revenge soon as I had come to learn. Tyranna's wrath and army taught that lesson well, and I simply hope that it will be one that the people of Lore never forget lest they try to appease the monsters.

The decrease in troops had forced a temporary retreated on the end of Deren and Stormfallen. They were gathering the total of their forces as to fight as a singular force; they hoped that that would allow them to hold out longer. They were probably right. If they were truly combining all of their divisions into a sole unit, then I would meet my previous foes there. They were the only survivors that I had faced in combat for this skirmish, and I had made my commitment that none who I met in battle would survive my blade. Their survival would bring me dishonor, for it would bring me failure. I would not bear such disgrace, and I would certainly not suffer such embarrassment at the hands of demons and traitors.

My fellow Pria Knights now stood alongside 'Emoran Knights as we prepared for the final battle. It was at this point that I truly began to question the origins of the undead who were assisting us. I have heard tales that Granemor's graveyard naturally spawns the undead, so it is possible that Granemor's dead providing what aid they could to its city's troops as they might be able to realize that the city would be in grave danger if they did not help, pun unintended. The idea seemed plausible at the very least as the undead are sapient, are they not? It was merely a question of if the deceased hear only what is around their body once they have died which is a possibility for no one whose soul has been claimed by Death has managed to return. If there have been, then they are unknown to me.

Sir Ira was among the 'Emoran Knights, and Sir Roderick was still at my side. It was good to know that they were nearby. It was always good to have people you know nearby. I had supposed that now would be a good a time as any to see if Sir Ira had recalled me as we had a time of repose to allow the stragglers of our forces to get into formation. "Sir Ira?" I asked.

"Yes?" He queried in response, "Who is it that called my name?"

I stepped forward and spoke boldly, "I had."

"Ingmar?" Sir Ira asked in disbelief, "Is that really you? I had sworn that the demons had gotten you at our first skirmish after we left for our respective orders. By the Lords, if I had known that, then I might not have had to kill every single one of them that day. One of them could have been interrogated at the very least. Let the past be the past though, right?"

Roderick butted in, "Indeed. I'll never understand why you sided with Granemor rather than Rennd though."

"Tathlin is young and naive to be so quick to disregard magic so vehemently," Ira answered, "Herous understands that it will be our magic that wins the day."

"And the undead?" Roderick persisted.

"They are... a necessary evil, if you will," Ira had hesitated in his speech. He seemed quite uncomfortable with that specific cutting remark.

"A necessary evil?" I inquired, "What are you hiding from us, Ira? Were we not friends throughout our time as squires?"

"It's... It's not like that, Ingmar," Ira tried to reassure me, "You are better off not knowing, and it is for the best for all of us especially Granemor."

I sighed, "I suppose that I will not persist that you unveil this secret to me then. I probably wouldn't wish to risk telling you the secrets that I've learned either if truth be told." I was, of course, referring to the death of the King of Rennd which had been kept secret to all but the most trusted Pria Knights. I feared what it was that troubled Sir Ira so as I knew him to be a man with no fear as his anger and wrath left no room for such weakness. To put it succinctly, the thought of his discomfort was discomforting in of itself.

A Pria Knight had come up on us and asked, "What are you three still doing this far back? There are demons and traitors to fight, you know!" Sir Ira, Sir Roderick, and I had all stared at one another in amazement that we did not notice the advance of the other troops, but the Pria Knight whose name was unknown to me had broken us from our disbelief. The four of us had gotten on our mounts to make up the difference. The three of us that belong to the Pria Knights rode on our trusty and sturdy horses, and Sir Ira rode on a magically enlarged which the 'Emorans Knights are renown for. We rode, and it was a little bit of time before we managed to catch up.

The battle seemed largely complete by the time of our arrival. To my surprise, I had spotted both SteelClaw and Quixotic among the enemies still standing. Fortune was truly upon me, it seemed. I dismounted and took to arms my sword and shield. I decided that I would once more fight them in the order of which I encountered them. I ran to the gory and bloody midst of the fighting to engage the Demon Werepyre, and I challenged him, "SteelClaw, you had fled after our last encounter. Would you show such cowardice again?"

SteelClaw had made his way to me and replied, "Ah, you're back to die, are you? I welcome you then, Ingmar, was it?"

"Yes," I answered. I wasted no time in calling for the Elemental Lords to bless my sword with the purity and holiness to smite this monstrosity from the face of Lore. The Elemental Lords had answered my prayers, and the blade twinkled with such profound brilliance that to not be awed by its presence would be profane. The Werepyre got the first strike due to this though, and he had his armor reinforce his claws with his armor which would burn at the touch. I was able to block his right claw, but his left claw had managed to pierce through the lower part of my breastplate which tore into my lower ribs. I could feel the intense heat, yet the wound was not cauterized. The Demon Queen's magic would not allow for a good thing to come out of it.

I had returned the favor for the vicious blow however. With my sword arm, I swung with all of my strength and hacked my blessed blade into the monster's upper arm. It was then that he had finally transformed into a Werepyre, and his armor shifted to his new form by the Demon Queen's vile magic. He was not, however, able to continue bearing his arms with how the armor fitted around his claws. The Werepyre did not know that his new form would not save him from the blessings on my blade. Instead, he simply made himself more vulnerable to its might. I imagined that the wound in left arm burned like my lower ribs did for what he had done to me.

The Werepyre had moved his head towards me as if he was intending to drink my blood, but I didn't allow him the opportunity. All that his fangs tasted was the edge of my shield. "How does that taste?" I mocked him, "Is it invigorating like you hoped? I can give you another serving if you want."

"You'll pay for that, you insolent, intolerant bigot!" SteelClaw snarled.

"Resorted to namecalling, have we?" I asked, "Tsk, tsk, tsk, 'tis a shame." I put all of the weight that I could with my shield arm as I bashed the monster with my shield. The Werepyre seemed to be dazed, but I did not know how long it would last. I wasted no time in hacking and slashing at the stunned SteelClaw. By the time that he could fight once more, he had suffered many wounds. Both of his arms had important parts of them cut. His breastplate was giving way from the force of my flurry. IT seemed like he would soon be felled if I could manage a strike at his heart. I imagined that SteelClaw knew this as well however.

The Werepyre leaped back a few feet and began to make the gestures to perform the Soul Drinker, but I continued my onslaught, my flurry of blows. My stamina seemed inhuman as I did not tire nor lose breath. I simply shifted my blade to every which way that it needed to be. With a single upward diagonal slash, I had removed the monster of its right forearm as my sword had finally made its way through metal, flesh, and bone. SteelClaw roared in pain and agony; if it were not such a monstrous creature, then I might have felt sympathy for it. Striking SteelClaw was quite easy now that he was without a shield and without a mace-swinging arm.

I used my sword to slap his other arm aside, and I took the killing blow. My sword, blessed and purified by the Elemental Lords themselves, had pierced his breastplate and then penetrated his heart. Blood was gushing out from the wound as it was no longer pumped properly. He would bleed to death soon, but I was not satisfied with that. I removed the sword from the wound, and I again forced the sword through his chest. It hit his lung this time, and I could tell that he was coughing up blood with just the last blow. SteelClaw was doomed; SteelClaw was dead.

Within seconds, the Werepyre collapsed. His body did not writhe nor moan in agony. I made the gestures for a sign of respect and a wish for a peaceful afterlife. To end my rite, I spoke this prayer, "May the Lords grant you a hero's afterlife in their merciful graces." I had always had a reverence for the dead, and I held strongly in the belief that the dead should remain dead that they suffered death and deserved their peace. I imagined that only tribes of ancestral worship would hold their deceased more highly than me. I think that SteelClaw had murmured a form of thanks, but I could not manage to hear him clearly.

"Interesting," A familiar voice spoke and then remarked, "You offered him a hero's afterlife even though you believed that he was a monster and knew that he was your enemy. That is... remarkable to say the least."

"Can your own order claim such?" I asked.

"No," She answered, "I'm disappointed to say that we cannot."

"If only you were a knight of Rennd," I stated.

"And slaughter the innocent demons?" Quixotic responded, "I think not."

"Innocent?" I queried, "Do not tell me that you too believe Tyranna's lies like Cerin. Some of you must see reason that the Demons will not stop until we are all dead."

Quixotic shrugged, "Do they not too bleed?"

"A beast bleeds," I answered, "Would you have me treat it a man?"

Quixotic sighed, "I suppose you'll never understand."

In the midst of my battle with SteelClaw and my conversation with Quixotic, I had not paid attention to the battlefield around me. It seemed that the other men had taken down everyone that they needed to. Quixotic, however, had not been subdued like the other prisoners of war. The 'Emoran Knights and Pria Knights did not express much fear about it though as they had such overwhelming numbers that they would be able to subdue her if she rebelled. One of the Pria Knights that ranked even higher than me had placed Quixotic under the watch of Sir Roderick, Sir Ira, and me. We were not to lose sight of her. We marched home to Rennd and to Granemor.

At some point, a Pria Knight had met us and came upon us with dire news, "Sir Ingmar and Sir Roderick, what are you two doing with one of these traitors?"

"You mean the Frogzard Knight that we are going to interrogate?" I asked.

"No, I mean the 'Emoran Knight," The Pria Knight answered, "They have been giving corpses from the war to the Necromancers, enemies' corpses, our corpses, and even their own corpses. It is sickening to think about, no?"

Sir Ira had not waited to take the opportunity to flee; he did not want to face Sir Roderick or me. I did not wish to face him either, so it pains me that our alliance has been broken. I suppose that I must begrudgingly agree as I would not wish to be an Undead against my will and committing deeds while being enslaved by a Necromancer. That is what is haunting about it, yet it has so many sympathizers. I never could understand how the idea could not daunt someone. I suppose that Tathlin made a wise decision to not align with those who would make dealings that are so morally deplorable and depraved. I would have to ponder this thought further when the time is better for it.

It was then that I found that Quixotic had also found her opportunity to flee. This is going to be a long war.




Eye of the Storm


The four armies had waged war between each other. It seemed that it mattered not that Rennd and Granemor had managed to gain the upper hand in the initial skirmish. Deren and Stormfallen had received reinforcements, and they were hefty reinforcements indeed. Stormfallen's Demon Knights were still my greatest foe at hand, and I fought against them valiantly alongside my brothers-in-arms. None had stuck out as much as SteelClaw had, but I suppose that you can't meet a Werepyre that is allied with Demons every day. Life needs to have some spice to it after all.

There were two people who continued to cross my mind. I had to wonder what wonder what was happening to that greenhorn Frogzard Knight that kept appearing, Quixotic, and Sir Ira. I doubted that I would encounter the former anymore. Deren and their knights were the least of my worries. They were not destroying my people's lands; they were not perverting the corpses of my comrades. They were traitors, yes, but they were also traitors of the knights scorching my kingdom's lands. It was perhaps for this reason that Deren was able to gain their upper-hand: None of the other armies viewed them as the main enemy.

Roderick and I fought with a second wind powering us. Our fatigue from the first skirmish seemed to dissipate with the necessity for battle. We had even managed to synchronize our attacks in such a way that our foes often have no way to counterattack once we get an attack in. The ferocity of our attacks leave the foe at our mercy, and our mercy has been spent. We reserved this technique mostly for the Demon Knights of Stormfallen as they're underhanded in combat themselves.

No more of Stormfallen's knights had challenged us as SteelClaw had, so we did not know the names of our assailants. On the second day of the new skirmish, there was a particularly powerful Demon Knight that they had encountered. Nothing else came of note about him excluding his profess at the art of swordplay or rather just melee in his case. Each and every one of his swings were vicious and deadly; his mace made quick of any armor. Once I had my blade filled with the purifying energy of the Lords, the Demon Knight had faltered. Roderick bashed it with his shield, dazing the Demon, and I placed the tip of my blade at its exposed neck.

"You should have worn a gorget or bevor today, Demon," I mocked, "At least I would have to find a different place to position my blade. Lords bless you for your afterlife, Demon." On his knees and disarmed, the Demon Knight was unable to show any meaningful resistance. With Evil's Bane still affecting my blade, I thrust my blade through his throat. He died choking on his blood.

As the Demon Knight lie on the ground writhing in agony, Sir Ira had made his appearance. "I'll be claiming this one, Ingmar," He spoke lifelessly, "You will not be stopping me, nor will Roderick." Ira had summoned forth his shield and sword, and he was ready to fight. His horned helmet hid his face, but I had at least hoped that it showed some remorse as mine had. If it did not, then that would sadden me more than his working with necromancers, more than his betrayal. It would mean that he did not care about his betrayal even.

"I do not wish to fight you Ira," I declared, "We were brothers-in-arms once, and we fought alongside each other as knights and as squires! Would you not let us return to that?"

Ira's voice was cold and ruthless as he said, "No." With that, he rushed at us. His bulwark of an armor prevented mine and Roderick's usual strategy. He rushed towards Roderick with a full swing's force backing his vicious blow. Roderick knew that it was pointless to attempt to parry it, but he had taken a defensive stance fast enough to save his life. I was surprised that Ira would so foolishly focus on only one of us as that allowed for Roderick and I to easily flank the 'Emoran Knight. His back was armored, but he was not consciously defending it which left many vulnerabilities open. The vulnerabilities would quickly shift though as he moved to defend and attack Roderick.

Eventually, a true opening had revealed itself. Ira's pauldron had unveiled his shoulder, and I thrust my Sword of Rennd between the thick plates of armor that made up his breastplate and his pauldron. The blow was not able to dislodge his shoulder or deal much substantial damage as the pauldron quickly shifted back into plate and flung the sword from my hands. "Without a sword now, Ingmar?" Ira mocked. Roderick was quick to give him a lesson in humility as he smashed the pommel of his sword in the palm-side forearm of Ira which forcibly made Ira disarm himself. Ira bashed Roderick with his shield, knocking the Pria Knight down with a score of ferocity.

Ira squatted to reach for his sword to make a killing blow, and I also had rushed for my own blade. My headstart was able to offset the distance fortunately, and I was able to grasp the handle of my sword before Ira could manage to clasp his own. Ira had now managed to get a hold of his blade, and I was beginning to run towards the 'Emoran Knight. Roderick was still dazed by the brutal bash by Ira's thick shield. "Roderick, move!" I shouted as I called down a hail of radiant arrows from the heavens themselves to strike my perverse foe. The brilliant light that radiated from them had blinded Ira, but they were unable to wound him through his thick armor.

"Is that all, Ingmar?" Ira mocked once more, "I can still hear you, you know." Roderick made his move once more now as he smashed the pommel of his blade once more into Ira, but he chose the helmet this time. The heavy ringing had temporarily deafened the 'Emoran Knight and broke his focus. He had no hope of finding his targets until his eyes recovered. Knowing that he could not detect us, he took a defensive stance, and he hoped to perhaps weathered our combined blows to prepare a Strike of Retaliation.

We did not abuse the opportunity. "I will not strike a blind and deaf foe," I declared to Roderick, "Such an act would be dishonorable to not only me but our Kingdom as well."

"That's nice and all, Ingmar," Roderick answered, "But I think that some Demon Knights were going to utilize our fight with Ira, look!" He pointed his blade towards a small squad of Demon Knights armed and mounted on their Salamander mounts.

"By the Lords," I stated, "Which god did we offend to be left to such damnation and dishonor?"

"We refused to be crushed by the Demon Queen's tyranny," Roderick answered.

I laughed, "Fair enough."

The leader of the tiny squadron had made his outrage known at this, "You dare speak of Tyranna as a tyrant, yet you are the ones who cling to the blinding light with your self-righteousness! I've had enough of this!" He nearly choked his salamander mount to death which the fury that powered his arms as he pulled upon the reins to communicate to his mount to breathe fire upon his foes. After a small reprieve, the salamander unleashed its vicious breath upon Roderick, Ira, and I.

We helped Ira into safety behind some of the ruins of the village, and we were able to avoid the brunt of the flames due to the delay in the fire's expulsion. With the moment of respite, Roderick and I called upon the Elemental Lords to bless our blades against the treacherous foe and his underlings. The Demon Knight squad advanced, but they were unknown to our exact location. We took advantage of the element of surprise, and two of the salamanders were brought down with a quick slash through the windpipe. The Demon Knights that rode upon them were quick enough to avoid a similar fate, and they leaped to the ground with a thundering thud as their armor clanged and clattered from vibrations.

They took quick to their maces and shields, and they spotted us relatively easily. It wasn't like we expected to be able to remain hidden though. We both quickly took a defensive stance, prepared for any retaliation that the Demon Knights could muster short of their demonic magic. They swung back and forth, to and fro to only meet our tower shields. Once they had worn themselves out, Roderick and I mounted our counteroffensive. Our blessed blades had made any defensive that the demons could manage futile as the blows made their shields burn to the touch and make their armor turn against them. The agony would soon break the Demon Knights' focus, and we'd land our killing blows: decapitation. The turquoise skin of the demons could barely been seen from their dislodged heads and necks, but the blood was quite visible and quite abundant.

Ira had managed to recover in this time, and he had returned to reclaim his sword and shield which we had removed from his person. The leader of the Demon Knights expressed some surprise, "The 'Emoran is alive? I thought you and Rennd were on bad terms now. I'll just have to kill you too. That's not a big deal."

The Demon Knight leader had spawn vicious claws from his armor which could plausibly rend even the thickest of the 'Emoran Knight's platemail. The flames of Heck enveloped the talons, and they made their appearance only all the more intimidating. They'd easily be able to set any flammable alight. He rushed to the disarmed Ira, and Roderick and I rushed to the 'Emoran Knight's aid.

"You'll not be slaying this knight today, demon!" I announced. Roderick and I both had thrust the top of our shields to throw him off-balance. The Demon Knight was thrown onto his back and sent back a good distance.

"What say you, Ira?" I asked, "Will you join arms with Roderick and I against this demon and his brethren?"

I knew Ira was smiling beneath his horned helmet as he said warmly, "Yes."

Unbeknownst to us, that demon was not simply with two others. Two more demon knights had arrived on foot and were prepared to battle.

"I'll take the one on the left," Roderick said, "Ira, you take the one on the right." This left me with the leader, but I was fine with this. My blade retained its holy power, and it should make quick work of any of the Demon Knight's tricks.

The two standing Demon Knights tried to rush Roderick, but Ira managed to knock the second to the side. Roderick exchanged only a few blows with his combatant as his blade's blessing had made the Demon Knight find difficulty in fighting back as his entire body burned in a way that he was unaccustomed to, in a way more akin to how flames scorch human flesh. The demon screeched in agony from the divine fury that was unleashed upon it; its body would not be able to withstand the continuation of such pain. Towards the end, he seemed to be begging for death, for release.

Ira's foe was thrown back by the heavy weight of Ira's shield and the strong arm that powered the bash. Ira called upon his Dark Pact, and a spectral skeletal silhouette arose from his body which exploded into a bursting wave of Darkness energy. It did little to harm the Demon Knight, but it conveyed the darkest parts of Ira's being which frightened even a Demon Knight to their core. With his sword, Ira had slashed down the Demon Knight as he cowered in fear from Ira's very presence now, for the Demon Knight knew that he would receive no mercy, no respite from Ira and no chance of survival.

The Demon Knight leader had managed to regain his footing, and his burning claws were still aflame. Ira and Roderick were still occupied with their foes, so it was simply me versus him. He rushed towards me with his claws spread wide. He got ever closer to me when I positioned my sword to parry his rush as he was a mere foot away. He wasn't quick enough to avoid my sword coming between his fingers which were now easy targets. I pulled my blade down, and six fingers followed suit. He screamed a primal pain and fury that was only befitting such a primal monstrosity. I spent no time before I pierced his throat with my blade.

The Demon Knight leader collapsed onto his back with the same clatter and clang as his underlings had made. That was unsurprising, but Ira had amazed me. "Play dead," He stated with little emotion showing in his tone. We hit to the ground and loosened the grip on our weapons. I was going to inquire why we were doing this, but the reason behind it revealed itself before I could muster the words.

A swath of Frogzard Knights swept through the battlefield; there were too many to reasonably combat. They seemed to have little interest in the fields of dead and ponds of blood surrounding them. They weren't investigating; they were preparing to flank their enemies. I refused to accept this alone as my only bit of knowledge on the happenings of the war. I crawled slowly forward towards the Frogzard Knights in hopes of overhearing what was going on. I could at least find out which army the Frogzard Knights were going to flank.

I did not need to crawl much further before I could hear Tyranna's roaring voice as she boasted, " You two are hundreds of years too young to be a match for me, and you both know it." I realized quickly that the two were obviously Tathlin and General Herous. Tyranna was fighting both the head knights of Rennd and Granemor, but this left Cerin out of the picture. His disappearance had been rumored about the war camp, but I put little weight in the idea of Cerin abandoning his troops.

I could not manage to hear Tathlin or Herous, but Tyranna had followed with a remark about Granemor's alliance with the Necromancers. I imagine that Herous mentioned how he cannot allow the war to end. Once more, I heard Tyranna speak her lies, "This village is in our territory! You invaded it, we defended it." What a lie! The village had been under Rennd's protection when a scouting party of Demon Knights had assaulted it. Following that, Tyranna had called the two knights to bear their arms to only fall beneath her, such arrogance.

While I had trying to figure out what was going on between the three leaders, the Frogzard Knights had been closing in on their location when Tyranna had declared, "I've just crushed two of the best knights in Lore. Deren's 'knights' will pose no threat to me." I failed to see how even one such as Tyranna could fathom taking on tens to hundreds of knights. Not long after, we were met by Pria Knights who had assisted me and Roderick back to Rennd. The skirmish was over, and we were retreating back to our kingdom as all of the others had. I knew not what happened to Ira, but I knew that we would finish our duel if we find the chance in the future.



< Message edited by Razen -- 7/6/2014 4:01:36 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 5
6/8/2014 18:32:44   
Sir Nicholas
Member

Fire and Blood

Prologue: The Old Paladin.
__________________________________

My name is Nicholas Jameson, one of the Paladin Order's most prominent members. With the coming of Summer, it has been almost a year since our Grand Master departed from The Order - leaving us directionless. Without Artix's guidance, much of The Order has remained inactive or has pursued new careers.

One morning after the latest debate over who would be Artix's replacement, I received an urgent distress call from one of The Order's oldest allies, Sir Tathlin, Commander of the Pria Knights of Rennd.

Rennd is one of the last great kingdoms of the Western Expanse, near where I was born some 41 years ago. With the rise of the Demonic Kingdom of Stormfallen and the fall of many of the lesser kingdoms, Rennd is our last defense in he West. Our sole ally defending the left flank.

Tathlin and I met when I was still a Squire, serving directly under Artix - and sent to Rennd as part of a diplomatic mission to secure its friendship for The Order. Instinctively, I recognized in the younger man his superlative qualities as both a warrior and a leader. We became good friends, and we fought many times both in friendly sparring matches and in border skirmishes with Stormfallen.

After my mission was complete and friendship between our Orders was created, I made him a personal offer to join him in combat if he ever should need my help again.

That day came when a horde of demonic knights ravaged many of Rennd's outlying farms and villages, leaving only one survivor to bring news of the attacks back to us. It's clear that Tyranna, Queen of Stormfallen has gathered her forces for another war. She intends to finish what she started many years ago during the last great conflict and conquer Rennd and eventually beyond.

Tathlin has called upon General Herous, leader of the Emoran Knights of New Granemor to fight with us, and with my support - many of The Paladin Order have joined the alliance as well. Our plan is to gather before the broken village where this conflict started, and make the enemy pay for what they have done.

Among those in the second company of the Emoran Knights is my son, Nathaniel. A charismatic and talented young fighter by trade, he and I had a falling out over his departure from home almost four years ago. Instead of following in my footsteps and becoming a Paladin, he ran away from home and threw in his lot with General Herous. Since that time, he has taken command of the company and has promised to be part of the effort to drive back the demons.

I take us now where our story begins, just outside the village at our camp.

___________________________________


Nathan stood at the head of the 2nd Company as it assembled before the main camp. A full two hundred men in heavy armor waiting for orders, ready and willing to take the battle to the enemy. It was a formidable force in its own right, and soon even more would be coming. Before the company, the allied commanders were in debate. General Herous of course and other two Nathan regarded with a familiar glance. Tathlin, leader of the Pria Knights, wearing the traditional bronze and red armor of his Order.

Father. Nathan thought as he looked over the most heavily built of the three. A man with features not dissimilar to his own, but far more grave and weathered. Long sable hair fell over his shoulders in tight braids. His eyes were the color of clean earth. He seemed to regard Nathan with a disdainful glance every few minutes, which didn't please the younger man at all. I wonder what he'll say when he sees me as commander of my own company. Then he'll give me the respect I deserve.


Farther away, Nicholas was indeed angry with his son. It was the first time in four years he saw him face to face, but he also was impressed at his accomplishment. The fact that an 18 year old boy had risen in rank so quickly was a feat worthy of praise, but he wasn't about to mention that to his comrades. He fought to keep his face composed as he spoke; his expression a mask of careful blankness.

"When the battle starts, I can field about two hundred and fifty men." Tathlin was saying. "More will come if we display the righteousness of our cause."

"Maybe so, but Cerin has betrayed us, and we know not how many troops he will bring." Said Herous. "And there's no telling what kind of lies he'll think up."

"That is true, General." Said Nicholas, interjecting at last. "Our enemies will no doubt try to explain away our actions as reckless and vengeful, but we have to make them understand what we do here isn't about vengeance but justice."

"The voice of experience?" Herous replied with a raised eyebrow. "This coming from the same sentiment the Necromancers had against your Order in the last war? Some mistakenly believed Artix was intent on genocide."

"They were foolish and consumed by fear." Nicholas replied sharply. Then his tone softened. "I fear that, they misconstrued our intentions. Some did so willfully in hopes of avenging themselves upon The Order. Others did so out of greed; intent on nothing less than the total destruction of all we held dear."

"Maybe so, but perhaps in your eagerness to kill each other, both were misconstrued." Herous said. "In exchange for protection from The Paladins, it was the Necromancers that agreed to assist in rebuilding Granemore."

"Yes, but Arster, you know me and mine." That caught everyone's attention. Rare were the times anyone used Herous' first name or spoke to him like an equal. "We did not intend genocide. We intended to bring those who would wrongfully raise the dead to justice."

"And you did so, but you failed to recognize the possible consequence of your actions: You have lost your Grand Master and greatest fighter, and now you can offer only token support to this cause."

Nicholas was about to respond sharply when Tathlin put himself between them, interjecting.

"That's enough." He eyed them both sternly. "We will discuss the matter another time. For now, our enemies are many and would no doubt use this mistrust against us. Only united can we stand against them."

"Very well, Sir Tathlin." Said Nicholas slowly. He looked over his old friend's shoulder. "And General, a request, if I may?"

Herous nodded, his anger seemingly forgotten for now. "If it is within my power, I will grant it."

"I would like my son to be transferred under my command. I have no intention of losing someone else dear to me."

"Done." Said Herous.

Tathlin smiled. "Now on to business: All of our forces are here and accounted for, so let us devise a strategy."

________________________________________

Chapter 1: Bitter Reunions.
________________________________________

The meeting concluded, Nicholas turned back and slowly walked towards the Second Company - his gaze never leaving his son. He stopped at arm's length from the younger man, looking him over intently. His expression softened somewhat as he realized how the years had changed him. He had grown from a slim, pale boy into a true man. He was much taller and his shoulders and chest had filled out. His hair had grown longer, and darker. Where once it was a shade of dirty blond, it now was almost as dark as his eyes. Even his once slender limbs had become more defined; muscular even.

"Hello, Father." Nathan said, saluting. "'Emoran Knights, Captain Jameson at your service."

"Indeed?" Said Nicholas. "Come; give your Father a hug."

With that, Nicholas drew back his arm and slapped Nathan, hard, across the face.

"What the Heck was that for!?" Nathan cried while holding his cheek, which had turned red. "First time I see you in four years and you hit me!?"

"That was for making me worry about you." Said Nicholas sharply. Though his face betrayed no expression, he was clearly furious with his son. "Two years and you only just start writing letters, saying you've joined the 'Emoran Knights? You're my son, Nathan! I taught you better than this!"

"Taught me better? Father, you were never there!" Nathan snapped, practically spitting back in the older man's face. Somehow he met Nicholas stare-for-stare. "When I was growing up, you were always with The Order - always off on some mission; you weren't even present for my graduation."

"I told you, the war with the Necromancers had called me away. If I hadn't fought, the world would have been drowning in Undead! You would have been defenseless."

"This tired argument again?" Nathan sighed. "You say you were making the world safe for me, but you wouldn't have had to if you had taught me how to fight: Even now, you're too stubborn to realize I've grown up! I'm a different man now."

"Is that why you're acting like a petulant child?" Nicholas snapped back. "You are...-" He paused, and gradually he mastered himself. His anger started to bleed away when he realized his son was right; he had never been there. In the space between missions, Nicholas was exhausted - but spent his time constantly preparing for the next battle. Rare indeed were the times when he could spend quality time with Nathan.

"I'm not the one who made a scene in front of my men!" Nathan said angrily. "I am a Knight-Captain. I'm a company-commander in the 'Emoran Knights. I'm one of the defenders of New Granemor for Lorithia's sake. Why can't you just acknowledge that I've grown up!? I thought you would be proud of me!"

Nicholas was hurt by this statement, but inwardly he realized once again his son was right: He had grown. And though he didn't want to admit it, the fact remained it was he that started the whole argument.

Abruptly, he stepped forward and embraced Nathan in a great hug.

"I was just so worried about you." He said quietly. Tears began to form in his eyes. "If I had known this was what you wanted... I would have gladly given you my blessing." He parted, and looked straight into Nathan's eyes. They were almost a reflection of his own. "I am proud of you, Nathan. I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"So you hit me, and you embarrass me in front of my men?" Said Nathan dryly. "You have a funny way of showing it, old man." With that, he sighed again. "I'm sorry for making you worry.. I just thought that... you wouldn't approve."

"Son, if you wanted to be a fighter, all you had to do was say so." Nicholas said, now unable to keep the tears back any longer. "You've made this old man proud: You've gotten so big, and become so strong. Your mother would be proud too, were she here."

"I miss her too, dad." Nathan said very softly. Then he put one hand on his father's shoulder. "But she's watching us from Paradise right now, and I'm sure she wouldn't want us to fight, especially after four years."

Slowly, Nicholas nodded and embraced his son once again - and he was glad to let the tears flow freely. This time as well, Nathan returned the hug. No one who saw the scene could help but be moved by it. For the first time in a long time, Nicholas held his son, and they were father and child and everything was right.


Finally, after a long moment - Nathan pulled away and wiped his eyes.

"Come on, let's get ready for battle." Said Nicholas as he also backed off. "We've wasted too much time as it is." He gestured to the forces around them, and then he smiled. "I think it's about time you show your old man how strong you've really become."

Nathan returned the grin. "I think you may still be able to show me a thing or two, Pop."

As equals, father and son walked back towards the camp's central tent, where the other commanders had gathered.

_______________________________________

When Nathan and Nicholas went inside, Herous was already speaking. Tathlin greeted them, and fleetingly they realized they were the last ones inside for the meeting. Around a long, makeshift table were the other leaders of the allied forces. Eight other men sat around Herous in chairs; some of whom Nicholas recognized from previous campaigns, and others he didn't.

"Ah," said Herous. "Good of you to join us, Jameson." There was no telling whom he spoke to. He turned back to the group without a second glance. Both father and son took seats at the edge of the table. "Our scouts have reported that a force of demon knights has already begun to head back this way: Estimates say the first wave numbers about 1,200 - maybe more. Given that Cerin has thrown in his lot with Tyranna, we can't be sure how many we'll be facing, but we guess that he has about 700 knights ready to fight for the demon's cause."

"And how many do our forces number?" Someone else asked. "With the Paladin's support, how many troops does that bring our total to?"

"Approximately two battalions worth of our finest warriors are ready and willing to fight for us." Said Nicholas, interjecting at last. "That includes myself."

"That brings our total force to about 1,800." Said Tathlin. "Though I can guarantee the longer this fight goes on, the more will join."

"Correct, Sir Tathlin." Said Herous. "Though our forces hold a slight disadvantage in number, this should prove to be an even fight. Moreover, we hold the element of surprise. If we hold this position, we will be able to force the enemy into a bottleneck. Funnel them into a spot where their numbers will count for nothing."

"But General, many of our men eager to avenge their comrade's deaths." Said Nathan as he rose from his seat. "We are eager to engage the enemy right away."

"Patience, Captain." Said Nicholas, putting one hand on his son's shoulder. "They will get their chance, once we've lured the enemy into our trap. To force a confrontation now would simply attract more of them. Casualties would be unacceptably high."

"Perhaps you are right," Nathan said, and he sat back down. "Perhaps patience is the better virtue here."

"Commander Jameson is right." Said Herous. "Though many of us are eager for a direct confrontation, it is through superior tactics that we will win the day, not ham-handed bravado. And if you are all so willing - I believe I have a solution."

And with that, the meeting dragged on, with the allied strategy slowly taking shape. When all was said and done, everyone was satisfied with what Herous' plan entailed.

At the end of it all, Herous stood up and raised his gauntleted fist. "Let us rest now, for tomorrow we go to war!"

"To war!" They cried in return. "To war!"

_______________________________________

Chapter 2: Our Brightest Hope.


Not long after we engaged the enemy, my son went forth into his first major battle with his head held high and sword drawn. There was no trace of fear in his expression, only a calmness that belied his inner fury. He handled himself well with his blade. His earlier claims ring true; there was little need for my protection, even against the worst of the demons. Even when they surrounded him from three sides, Nathan stood his ground and held off the enemy with naught but steel and a spiteful gaze. When the first great assault was beaten off, he was among the troops in the field that volunteered to rout them from the field.

The first part of General Herous' strategy is working perfectly. We have forced the enemy back and we now are constructing fortifications. During this down time, I stayed with the main body of our forces, and we have prepared our defense to the best of our ability.

When the next assault comes, we will be ready for them.


_______________________________________

After a short pursuit, the 'Emoran Second Company had indeed managed to track down and annihilate a large group of demon knights. What few remained from the initial assault were shortly afterwards crippled by the sudden attack. Under Nathaniel's command, the 'Emoran troops had rode the long way around the valley and struck hard at the enemy from both their flank and from behind. An hour of confused but intense fighting later, and the battle was all but won.

Nathan let loose a sigh of relief as the last demon knight fell before him in a bloody heap. Hundreds of others just like it lay strewn across the battlefield. Some had been seriously mangled by the lances and talons of the Koofu cavalry as they advanced. Their mounts had reaped a mighty tally all on their own, and some had made it a contest to see how many more than their comrades they could slay. That added to the Second Company's reputation as both disciplined and vicious warriors in equal measure. Nathan had encouraged this image - as it meant fewer opponents would dare face them.

Unlike his father, who presented himself as a liberator and a hero to the common-folk, Nathan was a fierce fighter that thrived on intimidating his enemies. Those that fell to his sword, (who's name was Godsend) were relieved of their heads with single blows. It was the quickest and easiest method to dispatch them, and it ensured there were no survivors.

For his efforts, the ground was blanketed in the corpses of his opponents.

"Congratulations, Captain." Said his lieutenant, a man about his age by the name of Isaac. "The first major battle of this war has ended in victory."

Nathan took in the older man's words and considered them carefully. Then he looked over the battlefield as his troops gathered up the few injured and dead they had suffered. The corpses of enemy soldiers were to simply be left where they lay: A gruesome reminder of what happened to those that opposed the Company.

"Aye, but we still have a long way to go before victory in this war is assured. We have struck a blow, but we have not dealt the enemy much hurt yet." He calmly sheathed his blade and urged his Koofu (named Striker) - to ride forward. "It was but a feint, I think, meant to deceive us as to the enemy's weakness. A part of me believes we were meant to win this skirmish so as to make us think ourselves beyond our limits."

"Should we carry the fight onward then, sir?" Isaac asked. "The enemy will likely not give us much time before they attack again."

Slowly, Nathan shook his head. "No, brother. If we pursue them, we'll likely be cut off from the main force." Then he smiled. "Besides, the boys will probably be looking forward to a nice, hot meal when we get back to base."

"And what about your father?" Isaac asked as he turned his mount around and followed Nathan's side closely. "No doubt he's worried about you."

"Once he hears of how well my company performed, the Old Man will not be too bothered." Said Nathan, his smile widening at the thought of his father's expression. "He agreed to this plan right away, and he didn't object when I volunteered for this little mission."

"Is that so?" Isaac asked, raising one eyebrow. "I thought he was a stickler for procedure. You said yourself he was an overly cautious old stiff with no real ambition."

"Yes, that's true; but he and I have reconciled." Said Nathan. "He's willing to let me prove myself, and as long as I can give him victories, he'll gradually start to come around to my way of thinking."
____________________________________


At midpoint in the construction of the camp's fortifications, Nicholas and Tathlin had a moment to themselves, and for the first time since the war began - they could speak as equals instead of having attention to rank. In light of the Grand Master's absence, Nicholas had only his personal troops to answer the call. This meant his rank within the allied forces was slightly lessened instead of his usual status as a high-ranked commander.

That didn't stop Tathlin from throwing formality to the wind and giving his old friend a belated welcoming hug.

"It's been too long, Nicholas. Far too long." He said when they parted. "I heard about Briehl. For what it's worth, I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you my friend." Said Nicholas, barely managing to hold the tears back. "I only wish she could see how much our son has grown."

"I'm sure she is proud. And I am sure she's also proud of how much you've grown as well." A jab was made at Nicholas' stomach in a playful gesture. "You certainly have put on weight since last I saw you."

"Shut up." Nicolas said with a grin. "You're one to talk. The peace turn you into a softy? Maybe you'd like me to carry all that armor, since you're so obviously struggling under it."

Another jab came at his stomach, and Nicolas returned it and both of them laughed. It was good to be back with an old friend again.

After a moment, Tathlin sighed. Then he looked around to make sure no one was listening to the conversation. "In all seriousness, these past few years have made it harder and harder to maintain the illusion of the King still living."

Some time after the last war, after Nicholas had completed his training as a Paladin, the last King of Rennd had died on the throne, leaving no heirs. Tathlin had long labored to keep this a secret from the populace, something which he and the Paladin had disagreed on many times. For a moment they were silent, and once again, Nicolas decided it was time to put forth his suggestion.

"Maybe it's time you let the people know the truth. Or perhaps it's time someone else took the throne."

"Who?" Tathlin asked, raising his eyebrow skeptically. After a moment, and seeing where Nicolas was glaring, he shook his head. "No, no. I won't do it. I'm not fit out to be a King. There is no way I could handle the pressure and responsibility that comes from such a position."

"Why? You are Rennd's leader in all but name. Officially, there are no heirs to the throne. At the very least, you would be considered regent until someone more capable comes along, assuming there is such a person."

Again, Tathlin shook his head. "No, brother. I can't. I am only a soldier and it's better this way."

"Fine. But let me tell you, the longer you try to keep up the illusion, the more people will start to question it. Eventually someone will find out."

And with that, Nicolas walked off. Inwardly he was disappointed at his friend's lack of ambition. He had long supported Tathlin's ability as a leader, and there was no doubt in his mind the older man would make a fine King.

A fitting irony then; neither of us decide who our own new leader will be. Nicholas realized, thinking of the turmoil within The Paladin Order. As he walked back to his tent, the idea came - brief and sharp. Could I be a possible candidate to be the new Grand Master? - Then he realized how foolish that sounded. He was a high ranking member, yes, but he wasn't fit for the task of running such a large organization. The role came with both political and military concerns, and while he had plenty of experience in the latter, he had none in the former, and truth be told, he hated politics.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see. He thought while he strapped on his armor. It was time to prepare for the next skirmish. A good hard fight was exactly what he needed to take his mind off the recent troubles.

_______________________________________

Chapter 3: Our Darkest Nightmare?

Disaster has struck. Within hours of the first attack, our forces drove back the enemy - but ultimately a terrible truth was revealed: Granemor has been refilling its ranks with the fallen and raises them as undead. Tathlin has taken this news as a personal affront because of his long friendship with my Order.

Our forces are divided and now Tyranna's demon knights are pushing against us from both sides.

My son returns to the scene, victorious from his battles in the east, not to a front united in celebration but at each other's throats. This bodes ill for both the cause, and for my relationship with him. Nathan has always been willful and headstrong, and he has always preached of peace between the Paladins and Necromancers. Sadly, he was ignored when a voice like his would have been proven most wise.



"Miserable traitor!" Tathlin cried while standing on one end of the exchange. "After everything, you support your armies with the undead!?"

"Granemor has made a pledge to the Necromancers." Herous said calmly at the opposite end. His arms were crossed and his one good eye was narrowed in resolve. "In exchange for rebuilding the town, we would aid them in a time of crisis. Not unlike your own alliance with the Paladins."

"We are nothing like them." Nicolas said angrily. "We are not cunning opportunists that seek to gain favor with others, like them. It wasn't an alliance of necessity that drove us to support Rennd, but genuine friendship and righteousness."

"You are quick to speak of rightness when it supports your cause, 'Lord' Nicolas, but it was that very same cause that doomed your Order." Herous replied sharply. "Now where has that path taken you? Your Order is in tatters, and your Grand Master is hiding like the scared rat he is."

"You dare!? You have the nerve to say that..-!"

Before they could come to blows, Nathan rode up with his hand upheld in a token gesture of parley. He was grim faced and silent as he dismounted and stepped in between the combatants.


< Message edited by Sir Nicholas -- 6/21/2014 15:18:21 >
AQ  Post #: 6
6/8/2014 19:02:15   
deather98
Member

A Hellborn's Journal

Through the smell of burning fleash from horses and other mounts throughout the town, something smelled off. I have seen many times the trageties off war yet this seems so small, so weak. Course who am I to complain when the queen wishes to get revenge for our breathern? She has grown as better as a leader as of late since then terrible 12 incidents and that tratiors rat. However Just like her parents pride our demon/dragon born queen can be hot headed.

While the enemy seems to be rennd and emoran knights, there doesnt seem to be as many as I thought. Its as if this is just a scouting party instead of a true force. Were is the dracolich's and horrors of the necros? The light aligned allies of rennd? Prehabs we should have cerin look into this during battle? Meanwhile from my efforts of the day I've managed to build the queen a nice trophy of helms from the foolish humans that keeps attacking us as if they are throwing their lives away for nothing. Prehabs she will like it if i Make her a chair out of the leaders own corpses to please her? Well time get back to work before she gets mad. Cant complain though, her rage is what drew me after all.



~Wraith Hellborn, Demon Lord of Stormfallen troops.

Day XXXX

I feel my inner dracopyre's urges growing. When the queen isnt looking I enjoy some of the poor knights blood to revive myself but it wont last. I feel the urges comming for blood thirst. Today a emoran managed to sneak a cheapshot at me and escaped. No worries though I heard cerin caught her later. Prehabs I can enjoy the intergating her later. The smell though from before is getting stronger. I smell something unnatural here. the smell of MOTHER is lingering. Which is strange for we are no where near the veil. Further evidence to be found later possiblely.
~Wraith Hellborn, Demon Lord of Stormfallen troops.

















The Betrayal



Today the deren's leader Cerin betrayed us. He sought to get access to the flames of truth yet again without a good reason. Therefore the queen has issued two orders to us on the field. Order one is the destruction of the deren army and the Second order is to find the traitor and bring him back to her. Preferably alive but if not so be it. Those under my command are getting excited from the idea of a hunt during the war. Rise my breathern and lets lay waste to all who oppose us. FOR THE QUEEN and STORMFALLEN We hunt!


< Message edited by deather98 -- 6/11/2014 11:24:35 >
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 7
6/9/2014 14:42:07   
dragon_monster
Member

Damn war

Part 1:Damn honor

The blue sky and the red moglin are in front of me again and another favor for death again.How did I got here again why did I had to be defeated by that demon knight why did I fought him. This war goes well for Rennd from the information received from scouts it seems Stormfallen and Deren they had more casualties then Rennd were my loyalty is and its ally Grannemor. On my way to the battlefield I see the bodies of my allies and the enemies and I wonder why did this war started for a stupid village? When is that a reason for a war I destroyed countless villages and and camps and nobody declared war on me.
Damn war there is no point to it but but I have to fight I have to repay Rennd for the training they offered me how many enemies those skills helped me defeat how many favors I do not owe death now because of them. While I was thinking my head was almost crushed by morningstar wielded by a demon knight and I immediately drew my sword and started attacking him he doged then he attacks then I dodged then I attack and he blocks with his shield a thing I repeated a dance we repeated for 10 minuted until a weakness appeared a 2 second weak spot when he tries to block with his shield an ocassion were I trust my sword in his abdomen I used a powerful light spell that is efficient against demons a spell that blessed my sword a sword that could cut trough his armor now like trough butter with what I slashed him repeatedly and without mercy killing him.
Damn war I almost died here and now I have a demon body who I have to strip naked and while was doing that a fire attack was directed for me an attack I barely dodged an attack from a 2 headed dog like creature. I prepared my sword and shield and charged while thinking "Damn honor".


< Message edited by dragon_monster -- 6/9/2014 14:45:11 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 8
6/11/2014 13:51:44   
UnderSoul
Member

War on the Horizon


Lord Scorpio sat alone in his log cabin, just as he had done each night for well over a year. Sure, he'd had some times outside, but it was never a request to hang out. It was always "Lord Scorpio, the Queen wants you!" or "Lord Scorpio, the General requests your appearance, something about a tournament!" Between his recent knighthood under Herous in Granemor, and his search for Safiria, he barely had any relaxation. Any time alone and unspent was put towards training, should another war arrive.This night, however, proved eventful. A courier, dressed in full Emoran plate armour, came to the noble's cabin.

"Lord Scorpio, General Herous demands your presence. They've done it." His tone was very commanding, very military. Scorpio did not like it.

"Now, now, let's be reasonable. Who did what?" asked Lord Scorpio.

"The Demons, they burnt a village to the ground. The only survivor was a scout from Rennd."

Lord Scorpio walked away silently. He went into the basement of his home, the secret training ground. There he inspected several items, pondering they're usefulness. His eyes settled on a sword and shield made of solid steel, but after their unique treatments shined like polished silver in the light of a full moon.

"Not the most unique, but oh yes, these will do nicely."



Kingdoms Clash


Scorpio arrived at the battle in standard Emoran Knight gear, minus the helmet. He blended in with many of the soldiers, lacking his signature katana and skeletal armour. He found the commanders tent, with two fully-dressed Emoran Knights guarding it. They looked at Scorpio, then at each other, and waved him in. Scorpio looked around and saw the General sitting with several commanders and, to his surprise, Kaley Obsidia, the Necromancer who Scorpio learned had been funding Granemor.

"Herous, I hear there's a war on." Said the nobleman.

"You heard right soldier, but you forget yourself." Herous sounded slightly irritated, and more than a little exhausted.

"Excuse me, what do you mean?" Scorpio was confused, what could that last part mean?

"When a Knight reports to his General he says 'Sir, reporting as ordered' not 'I heard there's a war' and certainly not 'Herous'. You are under my command, and you will act like it." While a military man, Herous was not usually so uptight about this kind of stuff, the war must have been getting on his nerves.

"But... Sir, we've known each other for years! Heck, I'm the only one here who even should qualify to be a knight!" Scorpio thought he had been done with these types of formalities after Safiria went missing.

"You may be the Lord of that hovel ib the middle of Darkovia, but here you answer to me. Are we clear, soldier?"

"Yes, sir." Scorpio did not want to deal with this right now.

"Good, now sit down. We need to discuss where your talents will be most useful."

Scorpio sat down and the ten of them discussed various battle strategies for taking down Stormfallen and Deren. Eventually each commander was given a set of orders to give to the troops, except Scorpio.

"Her- General, what do you want me to do?" Scorpio caught himself just in time.

"Well, Scorpio, we all know you have some... unorthodox fighting styles. Sword, spell, shadow, there isn't much you can't do at least somewhat proficiently, besides being stealthy. So, I think the best course of action would be to simply let you loose on the battlefield. You go out there and just let them have it!" Herous seemed rather enthusiastic about a plan that meant Scorpio and himself would hardly be in contact.

"That seems like a rather... odd plan. Are you sure you don't want me leading a squad or something?" Scorpio was very confused by this idea.

"No, no. I'm sure that we can manage without your commanding... expertise." As Herous said that, Scorpio looked back at his past experiences with a leadership role, and realized what Herous was saying.

"I see. Well, I guess I'll be out on the battlefield. I'll report back at around sunset, see you soon Herous." With that, the Lord Scorpio left for the action.


A Simple War


As Lord Scorpio surveyed the battlefield, he was impressed by the variety of soldiers fighting. In addition to the known orders, Rrnnd had recruited knights from various Kingdoms, all of which were long destroyed. Deren had recruited mainly Drakel, with few of their knights. Scorpio was not surprised by the amount of simple demons among Stormfallen's ranks. Granemor also had Undead fighting with them, but if Rennd noticed, they weren't doing anything.

Scorpio drew his sword and charged on to the battlefield. He wasted no time targeting the traitors and Demons. As he fought off a particularly swift Drakel, in the distance he saw a Demon Knight absolutely tearing through Pria and Emoran Knights. He stuck his sword out to his left, feeling the Drakel impale himself mid-charge, and continued to watch. The Demon Knight was crushing shields and weapons like it was nothing, he must have been one of the more powerful Demon Lords. Scorpio, however, saw something the Demon did not. He watched as a small girl in Emoran armour crept up behind it and plunged her blade into a section of the back that the Demon Lord's armour didn't cover. It screamed in pain and the girl fled.

Hmm, thought Scorpio, I hope she makes it back alright. She's dangerously close to Cerin's encampment. Then again, if she pulled that off, she'll be fine.

Scorpio snapped back to the present as he found a Frogzard Knight trying to sneak past him. Scorpio walked up calmly behind him and tapped on his shoulder. The Knight looked up at Scorpio nervously.

"I don't suppose you could just give me a firm lecture and let me go?" The Frogzard Knight was not as intimidated as most would be in his situation. "I mean, it's not like it's you in particular that I'm fighting, what do you say?"

"I say, draw your weapon and fight, so at least that way you can keep some semblance of honour. Or, I can drag you back to General Herous and charge you with espionage."

"Oh... um... well, the thing is-" The Knight leapt to his feet and whacked Scorpio in the head with his shield, sending the off-guard noble crashing to the ground.

Was not expecting that... thought a dazed Scorpio. Should've worn a helmet.

"Terribly sorry for that, but I really must go. I am a gentleman however. So what do you say I help you up. After all, we've established it's nothing personal. Come on, then, we can be friends..." He extended his hand towards Scorpio. Being a man of honour, Scorpio accepted and stood up.

"...in the afterlife." Scorpio felt a sharp pain in his back and saw a wicked smile on his opponent's face.

< Message edited by UnderSoul -- 6/12/2014 17:15:48 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 9
6/13/2014 1:10:09   
Doomsday
Member

The Kingdom of Nothing


The Rise

The alliance falls, a war with two sides has now become one with four. Rennd discovered that Granemor had been working with the Necromancers, the hated enemies of the Paladin Order that Tathlin will protect at all costs. Tyranna entered the war with a distrust of any humans, and with Cerin spying around her camp as well as levelling accusations against her, that alliance fell apart as well. It just seems too much of a coincidence that both sides' alliances fell apart at the same moment... or was it?

A new player has entered the scene, one we know Nothing about, shrouded in mystery but they above all else have always been dispassionate observers of the various wars throughout history. Some even say that the this particular "Kingdom" for lack of a better word can only be accessed through a portal to an alien land. Perhaps it is what people are referring to when they say that they fear Nothing.

"Let them come, we have and will always be the outsiders. We have watched and observed so many wars, it took a long while before we managed to even tap into the power of portals that the Lorians have been building to access alien realms." It is only through years of hard work and research into forbidden subjects that allowed Professor Itt, Emperor Scientist of Nothing to break the barrier between dimensions. There is abundant magic on Lore, but only recently with the damage and trauma to the leylines that caused the dimensional fabric to weaken, Prof. Itt's devices detected this weakness and alerted him to it, allowing him to finally open a way to Lore through the portals.

A new Kingdom emerges, one that had always been an neutral but hungry observer. Many are drawn to their side for the call of Prof. Itt is something that is hard to resist, his promises are seductive and persuasive. Beware, for Nothing is on the rise...

"For Prof. Itt! For Nothing!" ~ Knight of Nothing

The Fall

Nothing strikes hard and strikes fast, within a few days this upstart took down more enemies than the kingdom of Granemor. This attracted the notice of the almighty Lord of Order, IMRy the Robot, he decreed that Nothing was causing an imbalance in the war as well as an explosion of the troll population on Lore. Alas, a fifth side was never meant to be for the war, it tilted the balance too far in a direction that no one ever wanted. So to put an end to this, IMRy channelled all his powers to close the rip in space to the Kingdom of Nothing, foiling the work of Prof. Itt... for now.

"We shall meet again!" ~ Prof. Itt

< Message edited by Doomsday -- 6/13/2014 23:33:04 >
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 10
6/22/2014 8:35:58   
rosaxx50
Member

I decided I might as well post what I'd written, late though it may be.

Extracts from the Journal of A Refugee Turned Knight



From the journal of Quixotic, knight of Deren



i.

Cerin has convened the senior knights for an emergency meeting. I am not invited - none of us are. I suppose we'll learn the reason, in time. We've tried to listen in, in the past, and I for one will never do so again. My eyebrows would never return to their natural colour, and I quite like my ears in their current shape. Quill says they're probably grinning behind the doors, waiting to see who next trips the spells guarding the room's security, because bored warriors make for excellent pranksters. Told my idiot brother that no, not everyone is like him. Just because he has enough magic to make our family teacups sing dirty songs whenever someone of rank passes by, not everyone does, and fewer yet splash power around for such silly reasons. Took opportunity to threaten him if he does so again, hoping, as always, that it might sink in this time.




ii.

We are going to war. There were rumours that something was brewing in the West, but rumours of that are as common as dirt these days and come at the drop of a hat. There are always villages burning, somewhere, and crops going to waste trampled underfoot. I thought nothing of it until today.

I'm not sure of all the details yet. Cerin has been too busy to question, bringing the roaming knights up to date. (Senior they may be, Chosen they are rumoured to be, but by spending their time adventuring around Lore, they're not focused like we are.) If the senior knights know something, they've not deigned to share. Quill says even Nel has left the library, and he's taken the opportunity to actually go read books--Nel isn't there to chase him out. I hope he doesn't sneak food in with him again. Nel may be kind, but she's stricter than any knight master I've known. Except maybe Tyrant Overlord. At least Nel never made us run laps from the castle to the docks carrying ridiculous items - weight bars and bricks for the new Temple of Hope and, I'll never forget this, a nobleman on a stretcher who'd had too much to drink one night.

I've been delegated the task of setting up negotiations with captains over compensation for transporting us. Mother doesn't have a ship, but since we came to Deren, she's breathed ocean like she needed salt air to live, and she knows the people by the docks. She got me meetings this afternoon His Majesty himself might have found difficult to wrangle on such short notice. The captains aren't pleased, but they need only sail us to Battleon, and most of us, knights of all races and reinforcements from the Drakel loyal to Deren, will travel to Stormfallen lands by portal anyway. I've set up the meetings, and that will be enough. One of the senior knights or officials at the palace will have to sort out prices.

She cried when we visited. Quill stayed with her, while she waved me out to the docks. He's always understood her better. But I don't need him to explain to me. I remember her words as well as he does, ten years ago or not. This war has taken enough from me. I miss the ocean. I miss the peace.

But Rennd broke the peace long ago. How can anyone forgive that?




iii.

I haven't travelled for years, and not by ship since Mother brought us to Deren. Apparently, the ocean disagreed with me and my stomach disagreed with having anything in it during the trip. Hopefully I'll be travelling by portal. I can't be the only one who hopes so, though one of the senior knights, one of the Chosen who came to the castle in preparation for war, swears that portals hate her and refused to go near it. Something about Eukara Vox (a teacher in Battleon, apparently), a sentient portal, and being dropped right at the edge of a cliff so that her toes actually hung over it. And then she clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around, as nervous as Quill sneaking into the castle libraries.

Chosen are strange.




iv.

My frogzard hates portals as much as I hate ships. I've spent the past two days trying to calm it down. It's beginning to snap at any use of magic.

I really need to name it.




v.

We -- my year mates, and I -- have finally got the story of why we're here. It had trickled down to us last because we've left our squire training armours behind for barely a year. Stormfallen had built a refugee village at the edge of its territory, and in blatant disregard for the treaty, Rennd has attacked it. Rennd has always prolonged the war without caring for its citizens, so why would it care about the innocent people, or guiltless demons, in Stormfallen's villages? Granemor of course has jumped right in at the chance of creating more bodies. We couldn't let Stormfallen weather the fighting alone, especially not after pledging our support, so here we are.

Meeting the demon knights didn't go as well as I hoped. At least no fighting's broken out yet, though there's been plenty of posturing from both sides. I stayed mature--only challenged one of them to a race of frogzard against salamander--but refused to draw my sword. I pointed out that real knights compared their war kills before trying to kill each other, and it could probably wait until we weren't muddy and exhausted from that day's march. One of the Stormfallen knights called me a spoilsport, but I got a few grins. I hope they were grins.

The drakel are adapting much better than us. Stormfallen lands are hot and arid, and wearing armour makes it all the more difficult. I've seen more than one senior knight, also known to be a Chosen, change into something more comfortable. I hate being too junior to do the same. A curse on them. A curse on their pets. But not on their powers because we need those powers in the upcoming fight.




vi.

War is...

I remember war, you see, as a child living on the edge of it in Rennd. The autumn I was thirteen, demon knights burned the farms to the North and relief supplies from Deren were ambushed, taken. We went hungry that half year, all three of us, and half the capital city at least. Mother would give Quill her food, and Quill would push it to me, because the children living the next room over were sick and had passed me their coughing fits. There wouldn't have been enough to feed the city even if refugees from those burnt farms hadn't flooded in until it felt like too many people squeezed into one place. That was the year Mother finally had the chance to leave Rennd, and take us to Deren, far away from the war.

Being at the battle itself is different. There's a lot less time to think of the land being cracked beneath our feet, when we're busy dodging lances already. We arrived and were ambushed by Rennd and Stormfallen forces, like the Demon Knights had predicted. Our formation broke and scattered. There are so many of them.

But I've lived through war as a child. How hard can it be?




vi.*

I am lucky to be alive.

Green Knights, Red Knights, and Undead are not difficult. Training had prepared me well to spot their weaknesses, and though I've no talent for magic - unlike Quill - my sword arm is strong enough. I know which weapon to reach for to release them from the battlefield. But the ranked knights of Granemor and Rennd... their weaknesses are barely weaknesses at all, only lesser strengths.

I should have known better. One of the Stormfallen knights, a werepyre, had fallen under the blade of the Pria Knight, Ingmar, and I couldn't let him fall when Azrael - Stormfallen's moglin healer - was so close. I challenged Ignmar instead to distract him. The only thought that ran through my head? For a Chosen, he's not that tall. I can take him.

Two minutes later my frogzard only had one leg, I was weaponless on the ground, and he stood over me with his sword raised.

For whatever reason, he did not strike. I couldn't close my eyes - I'm not prepared for it - so I saw him hesitate, as I thought, Mother cried when I left, and as he lowered it, But who will keep Quill from turning our teacups into fish? followed quickly by, I'm going to die with only one sock on, will anyone notice? And I couldn't think at all when he turned away.

But when I arrived back, it was with a group of Stormfallen knights at my back, carrying the corpses of their fallen comrades. Death had not seen fit to give them back.

I am still alive.

I am still alive and I can still fight, and my father is not because he fought for Rennd when there mightn't have been a war at all, if only Rennd's military command had told the truth about the demons.

I am still alive and I will return to the battle field. I must.




tbc...
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