War in the West
Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2008 4:08 am
War in the west
Book one: King Samuel
In the great valley, surrounded by the many mountains, lie the two kingdoms. A long line of kings, descended from the dragon emperors of old, ruled each kingdom. Most of this valley was ruled by the ancient yellow city and its residents, the crown knights of western kingdom. These knights were a massive army, rulers of many cities, and in the minds of many the greatest knights of the world. It is in their capitol city that this story begins….
The great blue-and-gold flags of the Western Kingdom waved over the spectacular Gold City. In it’s center was a large dome with a huge tower extending from it. The dome was filled with people all of whom were watching a gladiatorial combat. The gladiators circled each other, stabbing at one another. One of the warriors sliced out with his sword and knocked over his opponent quickly. The overjoyed crowd, who stood up and poured into the arena to congratulate the victorious hero, cheered the knight. At the head of the crowd was a man well known and respected. The knight kneeled before the Emperor, who was dressed in a suit of shining gold, made to match the walls of the city. The king spoke in a grave voice.
“You must return to your city immediately. Your father has been killed.”
The city of Prentika was a contrast to the shining “yellow city”. Its flags were lowered and its citizens wore black as the returning knight entered the city via the main gatehouse. The soldiers signaled to him and he rode over to them on his stallion. He walked with them over to the forum, where the dead king lay on a slab in the center. The young knight looked down upon the still body and on that day he swore an oath. He swore that he would not die before his job was done.
Five years later
The once-young king, Samuel the thunder-rider, rode toward the Golden city. Just five years ago it had stood shining and untouched by the wars around it. Now it was in a state of disrepair and the once great ancient “yellow castles” were fallen. Patrolling it were groups of war-hardened troops and knights. Samuel rode through the wrecked city until he reached the Citadel of the king. He entered through its great golden doors. Inside, the citadel was unchanged by the devastation that ravished the land and the Emperor and his lords sat at a feast, enjoying themselves while the people suffered. Samuel Thunder-Rider threw his sword down onto the table and shouted at the king. He accused him of leaving his people to die, he begged him to help his allies. The king merely stared at him unmoving and untouched. At last, Samuel Thunder-Rider, last of the ancient house of Thunder gave the king his last blow.
“If you help us, I will allow you to return to your old castles at Prentika.”
The Emperor looked up from his meal at last and a smile came onto his face.
“Very well, last of Thunder, you will receive the troops for which you ask. They will be in Prentika tomorrow to receive the castles and the surrounding land. If there was ever any hope for you I this war, it has now been doubled.”
Thunder gritted his teeth and prayed he had made the right choice.
Several Months later, on the fields near the base of Mount Drake
King Samuel of Prentika Lay low in a ditch while arrows and skeleton horses flew overhead. The blue-and-gold banner of the crown knights flew high over the army behind him, their silver chain-mail and metal helmets shining in the pale moonlight like lit up the shining blue lake nearby. The fields stretching long and far, they were unmarked seas of green until the war had come, tearing them up, splashing the green with the brown of the trenches and the red of blood. Great armies in colors of grey, silver, and black fought for control of this fertile area. If the fields were lost, then the Necromancer of Mount Drake would march upon the kingdoms of the men who fought against him. If they failed, all would be overrun by the horde, an army consisting of skeleton horses, ridden by undead monsters, like skeletons but distorted and twisted by the Dark Wizard, Orks, the foul beasts of the pits and the sea, and Goblins, the mine-thieves, the cave-dwellers. They must not fail.
Just then, the sun rose over the mountains, making them golden, red, and orange. The light revealed things that the king would remember till the day he died. The fields were aflame and hundreds of soldiers lay dead, face down in the ditches. Atop the corpses stood monsters, trolls, dragons, Orks, and skeletons. Flags flew through the air like torn rags, armor lay like garbage, and the horde marched past. The king was alone.
It was not till the sun was high that the king crept along the trench away from the field. He was careful not to let his silver armor shine in the light and equally careful to not let any horde members see him. At last he reached the edge of the fields. He was filled with relief and joy as his head rose out of the trench. Suddenly, his relief stopped. Standing before him on a black winged horse upon which sat a cross between a knight and a monster, with huge horns sticking a foot out of its helmet. It had huge, bat-like wings. Its dark spiked and armored hand reached down to him and it spoke it a deep, dark voice.
“Coming, Your Majesty?”
The King learned little about his rescuer on the return journey to Prentika. He had lost a lot of blood and was almost unconscious when the figure dragged him into a cave under the rocks. The monster-knight called out to someone within the cave.
“Come quick and bring the medical supplies! It’s the king.”
Then a cloud of green gas hit him and he passed out, but not before noticing the cave was full of bats.
When the king awoke, he was on the top balcony of the Prentika Crown Castle. He turned around and took in the carved gargoyles and roof. The gold lettering of the ancient crown wisdom shone in the light. Blood-red torches hung on the walls of the long corridors as the king slowly walked forward, his pearl-silver armor outshone by that of the crown knights who walked down the twisting maze past him. The once jolly halls were filled with signs of the war outside. Where peasants once sung, crown knights stood in groups, holding spears. The king was glad that his own nearby castle, situated on a hill, was not like this. In his castle, peasants and nobles walked freely like equals. City-dwellers and merchants were the only ones who did not fit in to the ancient castle. They were isolated there from the nearby cities, which were coated in smoke from all the technological advances. They had moved forward too quickly, advancing tech beyond what they could handle. They were not ready for all they had made and he doubted they ever would be. He sighed as he walked past the armed guards and toward the throne of the Emperor.
As he approached, King Samuel Thunder-Rider felt something was more wrong then ever with the emperor. He was pale and his eyes were dark except when a splash of red light appeared. The king sensed evil even this far off. The Emperor spoke in a cold, unemotional voice.
“Why have you come before me, Samuel Thunder-Rider, current ruler of the land of Prentika?”
“I have come to warn you! The armies have fallen! The Orks and Skulls are coming! We shall be besieged before nightfall!”
The Emperor smiled and began to laugh. The red light in his eyes increased as he stood from his throne, still laughing. He walked slowly, like a madmen or a monster. The king was frozen by fear. At last, the Emperor stopped just in front of him and drew out a knife. Then he smiled, a kind smile, and the red was gone from his eyes. He continued laughing, but it was now a jolly laugh.
“Did you seriously think I would kill you, Samuel?”
The king joined in the laughter as well. The emperor grasped his shoulder. And then he stabbed him in the stomach. The king was dead not long after he hit the ground.
Next: The King is dead, long live live the King!
Book one: King Samuel
In the great valley, surrounded by the many mountains, lie the two kingdoms. A long line of kings, descended from the dragon emperors of old, ruled each kingdom. Most of this valley was ruled by the ancient yellow city and its residents, the crown knights of western kingdom. These knights were a massive army, rulers of many cities, and in the minds of many the greatest knights of the world. It is in their capitol city that this story begins….
The great blue-and-gold flags of the Western Kingdom waved over the spectacular Gold City. In it’s center was a large dome with a huge tower extending from it. The dome was filled with people all of whom were watching a gladiatorial combat. The gladiators circled each other, stabbing at one another. One of the warriors sliced out with his sword and knocked over his opponent quickly. The overjoyed crowd, who stood up and poured into the arena to congratulate the victorious hero, cheered the knight. At the head of the crowd was a man well known and respected. The knight kneeled before the Emperor, who was dressed in a suit of shining gold, made to match the walls of the city. The king spoke in a grave voice.
“You must return to your city immediately. Your father has been killed.”
The city of Prentika was a contrast to the shining “yellow city”. Its flags were lowered and its citizens wore black as the returning knight entered the city via the main gatehouse. The soldiers signaled to him and he rode over to them on his stallion. He walked with them over to the forum, where the dead king lay on a slab in the center. The young knight looked down upon the still body and on that day he swore an oath. He swore that he would not die before his job was done.
Five years later
The once-young king, Samuel the thunder-rider, rode toward the Golden city. Just five years ago it had stood shining and untouched by the wars around it. Now it was in a state of disrepair and the once great ancient “yellow castles” were fallen. Patrolling it were groups of war-hardened troops and knights. Samuel rode through the wrecked city until he reached the Citadel of the king. He entered through its great golden doors. Inside, the citadel was unchanged by the devastation that ravished the land and the Emperor and his lords sat at a feast, enjoying themselves while the people suffered. Samuel Thunder-Rider threw his sword down onto the table and shouted at the king. He accused him of leaving his people to die, he begged him to help his allies. The king merely stared at him unmoving and untouched. At last, Samuel Thunder-Rider, last of the ancient house of Thunder gave the king his last blow.
“If you help us, I will allow you to return to your old castles at Prentika.”
The Emperor looked up from his meal at last and a smile came onto his face.
“Very well, last of Thunder, you will receive the troops for which you ask. They will be in Prentika tomorrow to receive the castles and the surrounding land. If there was ever any hope for you I this war, it has now been doubled.”
Thunder gritted his teeth and prayed he had made the right choice.
Several Months later, on the fields near the base of Mount Drake
King Samuel of Prentika Lay low in a ditch while arrows and skeleton horses flew overhead. The blue-and-gold banner of the crown knights flew high over the army behind him, their silver chain-mail and metal helmets shining in the pale moonlight like lit up the shining blue lake nearby. The fields stretching long and far, they were unmarked seas of green until the war had come, tearing them up, splashing the green with the brown of the trenches and the red of blood. Great armies in colors of grey, silver, and black fought for control of this fertile area. If the fields were lost, then the Necromancer of Mount Drake would march upon the kingdoms of the men who fought against him. If they failed, all would be overrun by the horde, an army consisting of skeleton horses, ridden by undead monsters, like skeletons but distorted and twisted by the Dark Wizard, Orks, the foul beasts of the pits and the sea, and Goblins, the mine-thieves, the cave-dwellers. They must not fail.
Just then, the sun rose over the mountains, making them golden, red, and orange. The light revealed things that the king would remember till the day he died. The fields were aflame and hundreds of soldiers lay dead, face down in the ditches. Atop the corpses stood monsters, trolls, dragons, Orks, and skeletons. Flags flew through the air like torn rags, armor lay like garbage, and the horde marched past. The king was alone.
It was not till the sun was high that the king crept along the trench away from the field. He was careful not to let his silver armor shine in the light and equally careful to not let any horde members see him. At last he reached the edge of the fields. He was filled with relief and joy as his head rose out of the trench. Suddenly, his relief stopped. Standing before him on a black winged horse upon which sat a cross between a knight and a monster, with huge horns sticking a foot out of its helmet. It had huge, bat-like wings. Its dark spiked and armored hand reached down to him and it spoke it a deep, dark voice.
“Coming, Your Majesty?”
The King learned little about his rescuer on the return journey to Prentika. He had lost a lot of blood and was almost unconscious when the figure dragged him into a cave under the rocks. The monster-knight called out to someone within the cave.
“Come quick and bring the medical supplies! It’s the king.”
Then a cloud of green gas hit him and he passed out, but not before noticing the cave was full of bats.
When the king awoke, he was on the top balcony of the Prentika Crown Castle. He turned around and took in the carved gargoyles and roof. The gold lettering of the ancient crown wisdom shone in the light. Blood-red torches hung on the walls of the long corridors as the king slowly walked forward, his pearl-silver armor outshone by that of the crown knights who walked down the twisting maze past him. The once jolly halls were filled with signs of the war outside. Where peasants once sung, crown knights stood in groups, holding spears. The king was glad that his own nearby castle, situated on a hill, was not like this. In his castle, peasants and nobles walked freely like equals. City-dwellers and merchants were the only ones who did not fit in to the ancient castle. They were isolated there from the nearby cities, which were coated in smoke from all the technological advances. They had moved forward too quickly, advancing tech beyond what they could handle. They were not ready for all they had made and he doubted they ever would be. He sighed as he walked past the armed guards and toward the throne of the Emperor.
As he approached, King Samuel Thunder-Rider felt something was more wrong then ever with the emperor. He was pale and his eyes were dark except when a splash of red light appeared. The king sensed evil even this far off. The Emperor spoke in a cold, unemotional voice.
“Why have you come before me, Samuel Thunder-Rider, current ruler of the land of Prentika?”
“I have come to warn you! The armies have fallen! The Orks and Skulls are coming! We shall be besieged before nightfall!”
The Emperor smiled and began to laugh. The red light in his eyes increased as he stood from his throne, still laughing. He walked slowly, like a madmen or a monster. The king was frozen by fear. At last, the Emperor stopped just in front of him and drew out a knife. Then he smiled, a kind smile, and the red was gone from his eyes. He continued laughing, but it was now a jolly laugh.
“Did you seriously think I would kill you, Samuel?”
The king joined in the laughter as well. The emperor grasped his shoulder. And then he stabbed him in the stomach. The king was dead not long after he hit the ground.
Next: The King is dead, long live live the King!