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Age of MythologyTeam Chief :: Twilight Knight |
Club Stats Date Started: 15 Mar 2008 Posts: 398 Posts Ranking: 457 |
| Fan Fiction | |||
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| As many of your know, I like to write. I'll post my story here. If anyone else would like to post there's, feel free to do so. | |||
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Twilight Knight
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Posted at: 16-Mar-2008 15:15:42
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Post ID: 602748, Report Bad Post |
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Prologue In the gloom of the tunnels, they are coming. Their evil drum named Grond is booming; echoing in the distance. They are coming. Long have the dwarves of Moria kept them at bay. But now, they have breached the western gate and come pouring into our tunnels. We cannot get out. They are the goblins; the terrors of the deep. -Me They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes; drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming! -Records of Moria, The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R Tolkien Chapter one “Throw the volley!” A cloud of throwing axes flew above the heads of the phalanx of dwarves, landing in the unorganized ranks of the goblins. The short, swarming creatures impaled themselves on the long spears of the dwarves, for the scaly armor of the goblins offered little protection. But the numbers of the goblins were too great. Soon the dwarves would be overwhelmed. They would have to withdraw back into the tunnels of Moria. “Retreat! Retreat! Retreat to the Inner Gates!” The dwarves shifted backwards, fighting along the way. The goblins were close behind, killing any one lingering behind. Balin, being the leader of the dwarves, called to his troops to retreat again. They made there way to the inner gate, barring the doors. Balin commanded to put up earth and boulders against the doors. The goblins were not stopped by the tall gates; they easily climbed the walls. “Sir, we need to do something. They scale the walls. They swarm over them like ants over rock,” said the dwarf lord’s attendant. “Yes, I know. We will fight to the death. This scum will not defeat the power of the dwarves!” Balin replied fiercely. He knew the goblins would eventually overwhelm them. Having every entrance and exit blocked, there was no way out of the Misty Mountains. “Push the boulders off of the wall,” he commanded loudly. Dwarves of all sizes heaved the huge rocks to the depths below. Rupturing on the sharp stones below, the boulders caused goblins to withdraw. Drawing his bearded ax, Balin climbed the steps on the inward side of the wall. Goblins swarmed him as he approached, so he swung his ax to the left, then to the right, and finally driving the head of his ax into the skull of a goblin imp. But everything halted. Deep in the tunnels, a thunderous rumble erupted, frightening the goblins back to the mines they came from. But the throat that the boom came from was much more terrifying and treacherous than all of the goblins combined. For this, a foe greater than anything in middle earth, was the Balrog. The Balrog is a sight to be terrified by. He had a head of a buffalo, arms of huge man and legs of a dragon. He stood forty feet tall and weighed more than twenty tons. But the most frightening thing was that he was cloaked in flame. Fire came from his nose and mouth, grew from his torso, and capped the top of his head. He came crashing through the tunnels, tearing down pillars and walls. Frightened by the horrifying sight, dwarves and goblins ran in all directions, taking cover in all sorts of places. The Balrog cleared the wall in one leap, using his short wings to stay aloft for a few seconds more. He left two huge foot prints in the ground. Upon landing, he turned to face the dwarves, widely opened his mouth, and exhaled. Fire shot from his mouth, singeing anything in a hundred yard radius. While scanning the top of the wall, the Balrog caught sight of an unfortunate dwarf: Balin. The Balrog Charged towards him, taking long deep strides. The monster drew a long fire-made sword in his right hand, and an even longer whip, constructed of fire, in his left. He halted about twenty-five yards away from Balin, who was sprinting down the wall. The Balrog slashed to the left with his fiery sword followed by his whip, going the other direction. The sword missed by a few feet high above Balin’s head, but the whip snagged him on the leg, pulling him to the stone face of the top of the wall. The monster rose the fire-blade above his head, all set to cleave Balin in half. But five dwarves came to the rescue, firing giant arrows, called bolts, from a ballista, decorated with a glowing rune, at the Balrog. Soon the monster retreated, after three heavy bolts from the crossbow. Balin arose from the wall, and looked in the direction of the dwarves that narrowly saved his life. Walking towards them, he said, “M’boys that was a show of great bravery and courage. It takes great courage to stand and fight against that monster. You save my life. What are your names?” “My name is Casey, this is Baffer, this is Krovan, this is Oin, and this is Gamili. We were just doing our duty. If the king is in danger, we feel obliged to help him,” Casey said. “And what is this magnificent machine?” “This crossbow has been enchanted by elven magic. They gave it to us for rescuing one of there kind in the overland “I see. One in a million, it is. I am proud of you, not to mention the saving of my life. Are you the leader,” Balin asked Casey. “Yes, Sire. I lead this small party,” He replied. “Well, I think I should change your rank to Kings Guard. If you except, you will now follow me wherever I go, through sickness and dark. What say you?” “We will follow you to the bitter end, M’lord. It is a great privilege.” “Well, that is that. Now the goblins are run off for a while, but they will come back. We must be ready. They may have also retreated as far as the Outer Gates. I think if we were to attack quickly, we could regain the loss.” « Last edited by Twilight Knight on 26th Mar 2008 » |
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Changed my account to Days of Ragnarok. | |||
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the_best_of_the_west
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Posted at: 21-Mar-2008 13:10:03
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Post ID: 611129, Report Bad Post |
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dude i know that aint all you got i would post mine but i cant read my own writing « Last edited by the_best_of_the_west on 21st Mar 2008 » |
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normal is overrated insanity is soo much better do you want to be a DBZ hero then join DBZ all out heros see ya sometime next year. oh join black charizard its the first link. jmoore75860atlivedotcom add me on msn | |||
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Twilight Knight
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Posted at: 21-Mar-2008 20:17:29
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Post ID: 611748, Report Bad Post |
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Lol. Is it that bad? Well, I guess I'll post another chapter. Chapter two The way to the Outer Gates was quiet except for the clinking of armor, spears knocking together, and the heavy footsteps of the war-clad dwarves. The time seemed to pass slowly. It seems so far to the Outer Gate, Balin thought. He was at the front of the army, leading a legion of five-hundred dwarves, with the new Kings Guard following close behind him. Looking at the steep rock face to the side of them, he noticed a small shower of pebbles and dirt fall. A few minutes later, there was another shower, farther ahead. Balin turned and spoke to Casey. “Did you see that,” he whispered, indicating the small land slide. “Yes, M’lord, I did see that. What is it,” Casey whispered back. “I think it may be a goblin scout. Send the Kings Guard to tell the rest of the army to be on their best guard. Hurry now.” “Yes M’lord.” Casey bowed to the dwarf lord and turned to go carry out his commands. Before Casey could get far, goblins showered from the rock face. The dwarf army, except Casey, Balin, and a few others, were caught completely off guard. They came swiftly off the cliff, firing arrows along the way. Of the five-hundred, twenty were killed early. But shortly after, the dwarves were recuperating, and the element of surprise was gone. The dwarves cut down the goblins; they were poor hand-to-hand fighters. All the while, Balin was shouting orders. “Form the ranks! Line formation, line formation! Spearmen up front, axe-throwers behind.” Balin fought alongside his army, with his axe swinging from side to side. Four of the Knight’s Guard were behind him, fighting in perfect harmony. It was Oin that, in the rear ranks, was aiming the crossbow, and fiercely guarding it from the onslaught of the goblins. He shot well, and killed more than any ordinary foot-soldier. Casey drew a throwing-axe and pitched it with all his might at a goblin, about to thrust his short curving blade through Balin’s back. Balin, keeping his part of the melee, heaved his axe into a goblin archer, who had his bow drawn, ready to lose an arrow towards Gamili. Baffer was surrounded by goblins, and he held well, but could not hold out for long. Krovan rescued him by charging into the ranks and using his own element of surprise. The goblins retreated from the juggernaut Krovan, saving Baffer from a fate worse than death. The battle was swift, for the goblins had attacked with only a small fraction of their army, and the dwarves won fairly easily, with the help of the crossbow. “Count up the dead, and send a party of about twenty to escort the wounded back to the Inner Gate,” Balin said to his attendant. “Yes, M’lord,” the faithful servant said. He jogged off to carry out Balin’s commands. He returned shortly after to speak to the King. “Sir, we have twenty-five dead, and forty wounded. That leaves about four-hundred and thirty,” he said. “Twenty-five dead.” Balin said while sighing and a moment of silence ensued. After a while he finally said, “We must continue with the battle. Now our surprise attack is dead. We must attack formally, and powerfully.” “Yes, Sir. May I suggest using catapults? Or even a ballista. I saw one during the fight.” the attendant replied. “Yes, good idea. The Kings Guard have possession over that rune-enhanced war-machine.” Balin replied, and turned to the Kings Guard. “Casey,” He said. “Is that the ballista you used against the Balrog?” Casey smiled almost evilly and said, “Yes. We knew you would probably use it in the battle to come, so we brought it.” “Why did you not tell me? And why haven’t I seen it?” “The answer to both is this: the thing has amazing stealth. It seems almost invisible if we want it to. I did mention it is magical, right?” “Yes, you did,” the king replied. He was perplexed by the answer given by Casey. “Well, I’m glad you brought it. It will help us greatly in the battle to come. It helped in this ambush. And you--” He turned to Oin. “You are an incredible shot with that thing. I am proud.” Oin blushed and said, “Oh, it was nothing. Any one with practice can shoot as well as me.” “Well, let us go continue.” The army assembled and marched towards the Outer Gate, with Oin and the crossbow behind. It was tedious; many of the dwarves half-expected another ambush. Ten minutes after they started, they arrived at their destination, staying far enough away from it that the swarming goblins could not see them. The goblins had made a temporary fortification to protect them; it was likely a few of the goblins escaped the ambush earlier that day. They had made a makeshift rock wall to cover the steps that terraced up the wall. In addition to that, they had a wooden palisade of spiked logs; where they had acquired the lumber, no one knows. Wood is rare in the dark tunnels where there is hardly any light. The Outer Gates, as the dwarves call them, was, in reality, a wall a hundred and fifty feet long; the wall was eight feet thick, and twenty feet tall, and the gates took up only a measly twenty yards in the center. Balin signaled the army to stop and turned to Oin. “Oin, I want you to bring the crossbow to the front here. We can shoot the ceiling above the enemy with the crossbow, and send their ranks into confusion.” Oin looked at Balin in surprise and said, “Uh, yes, Sire.” Gathering himself up, he jogged of to the rear ranks to get the ballista. Watching Oin run off, Casey asked Balin about his plans to attack the goblins. Balin replied, “We will collapse the stalactites on the ceiling of this cave, and they will fall onto the goblins. They will not expect a thing. Next, hopefully the goblins will still be in confusion long enough to give us enough time to reload the crossbow and--” He was interrupted by Oin and the party carrying the crossbow. “Here it is, sire.” “Good. Now set it up and raise it high enough to bombard the ceiling above the enemy,” Balin replied, indicating high above their heads. Oin was hesitant, not knowing the kings intentions, and not being to bright anyways, but quickly carried his commands out anyway. Balin was pleased with the crossbow. “Good. Now everyone prepare for war. We have a hard battle in front of us.” « Last edited by Twilight Knight on 21st Mar 2008 » |
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Changed my account to Days of Ragnarok. | |||
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the_best_of_the_west
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Posted at: 07-Apr-2008 22:37:06
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Post ID: 647511, Report Bad Post |
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Re: Lol. Is it that bad? Well, I guess I'll post another chapter. Chapter two The way to the Outer Gates was quiet except for the clinking of armor, spears knocking together, and the heavy footsteps of the war-clad dwarves. The time seemed to pass slowly. It seems so far to the Outer Gate, Balin thought. He was at the front of the army, leading a legion of five-hundred dwarves, with the new Kings Guard following close behind him. Looking at the steep rock face to the side of them, he noticed a small shower of pebbles and dirt fall. A few minutes later, there was another shower, farther ahead. Balin turned and spoke to Casey. “Did you see that,” he whispered, indicating the small land slide. “Yes, M’lord, I did see that. What is it,” Casey whispered back. “I think it may be a goblin scout. Send the Kings Guard to tell the rest of the army to be on their best guard. Hurry now.” “Yes M’lord.” Casey bowed to the dwarf lord and turned to go carry out his commands. Before Casey could get far, goblins showered from the rock face. The dwarf army, except Casey, Balin, and a few others, were caught completely off guard. They came swiftly off the cliff, firing arrows along the way. Of the five-hundred, twenty were killed early. But shortly after, the dwarves were recuperating, and the element of surprise was gone. The dwarves cut down the goblins; they were poor hand-to-hand fighters. All the while, Balin was shouting orders. “Form the ranks! Line formation, line formation! Spearmen up front, axe-throwers behind.” Balin fought alongside his army, with his axe swinging from side to side. Four of the Knight’s Guard were behind him, fighting in perfect harmony. It was Oin that, in the rear ranks, was aiming the crossbow, and fiercely guarding it from the onslaught of the goblins. He shot well, and killed more than any ordinary foot-soldier. Casey drew a throwing-axe and pitched it with all his might at a goblin, about to thrust his short curving blade through Balin’s back. Balin, keeping his part of the melee, heaved his axe into a goblin archer, who had his bow drawn, ready to lose an arrow towards Gamili. Baffer was surrounded by goblins, and he held well, but could not hold out for long. Krovan rescued him by charging into the ranks and using his own element of surprise. The goblins retreated from the juggernaut Krovan, saving Baffer from a fate worse than death. The battle was swift, for the goblins had attacked with only a small fraction of their army, and the dwarves won fairly easily, with the help of the crossbow. “Count up the dead, and send a party of about twenty to escort the wounded back to the Inner Gate,” Balin said to his attendant. “Yes, M’lord,” the faithful servant said. He jogged off to carry out Balin’s commands. He returned shortly after to speak to the King. “Sir, we have twenty-five dead, and forty wounded. That leaves about four-hundred and thirty,” he said. “Twenty-five dead.” Balin said while sighing and a moment of silence ensued. After a while he finally said, “We must continue with the battle. Now our surprise attack is dead. We must attack formally, and powerfully.” “Yes, Sir. May I suggest using catapults? Or even a ballista. I saw one during the fight.” the attendant replied. “Yes, good idea. The Kings Guard have possession over that rune-enhanced war-machine.” Balin replied, and turned to the Kings Guard. “Casey,” He said. “Is that the ballista you used against the Balrog?” Casey smiled almost evilly and said, “Yes. We knew you would probably use it in the battle to come, so we brought it.” “Why did you not tell me? And why haven’t I seen it?” “The answer to both is this: the thing has amazing stealth. It seems almost invisible if we want it to. I did mention it is magical, right?” “Yes, you did,” the king replied. He was perplexed by the answer given by Casey. “Well, I’m glad you brought it. It will help us greatly in the battle to come. It helped in this ambush. And you--” He turned to Oin. “You are an incredible shot with that thing. I am proud.” Oin blushed and said, “Oh, it was nothing. Any one with practice can shoot as well as me.” “Well, let us go continue.” The army assembled and marched towards the Outer Gate, with Oin and the crossbow behind. It was tedious; many of the dwarves half-expected another ambush. Ten minutes after they started, they arrived at their destination, staying far enough away from it that the swarming goblins could not see them. The goblins had made a temporary fortification to protect them; it was likely a few of the goblins escaped the ambush earlier that day. They had made a makeshift rock wall to cover the steps that terraced up the wall. In addition to that, they had a wooden palisade of spiked logs; where they had acquired the lumber, no one knows. Wood is rare in the dark tunnels where there is hardly any light. The Outer Gates, as the dwarves call them, was, in reality, a wall a hundred and fifty feet long; the wall was eight feet thick, and twenty feet tall, and the gates took up only a measly twenty yards in the center. Balin signaled the army to stop and turned to Oin. “Oin, I want you to bring the crossbow to the front here. We can shoot the ceiling above the enemy with the crossbow, and send their ranks into confusion.” Oin looked at Balin in surprise and said, “Uh, yes, Sire.” Gathering himself up, he jogged of to the rear ranks to get the ballista. Watching Oin run off, Casey asked Balin about his plans to attack the goblins. Balin replied, “We will collapse the stalactites on the ceiling of this cave, and they will fall onto the goblins. They will not expect a thing. Next, hopefully the goblins will still be in confusion long enough to give us enough time to reload the crossbow and--” He was interrupted by Oin and the party carrying the crossbow. “Here it is, sire.” “Good. Now set it up and raise it high enough to bombard the ceiling above the enemy,” Balin replied, indicating high above their heads. Oin was hesitant, not knowing the kings intentions, and not being to bright anyways, but quickly carried his commands out anyway. Balin was pleased with the crossbow. “Good. Now everyone prepare for war. We have a hard battle in front of us.” oh heck yeah i cant read but a few words |
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normal is overrated insanity is soo much better do you want to be a DBZ hero then join DBZ all out heros see ya sometime next year. oh join black charizard its the first link. jmoore75860atlivedotcom add me on msn | |||
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Twilight Knight
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Posted at: 11-Apr-2008 21:01:10
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Post ID: 655875, Report Bad Post |
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Changed my account to Days of Ragnarok. | |||
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Twilight Knight
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Posted at: 11-Apr-2008 21:02:31
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Post ID: 655885, Report Bad Post |
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Chapter three Twang! The ballista launched a hurtling crossbow bolt, landing on the rock ceiling above the unfortunate goblins with a loud crunch. The stalactites shivered, and soon gave to the powerful tremor created by the substantial bolt. They fell, gaining momentum every yard they fell. It was about 75 yards to fall, in fact. They landed, and a humongous rumble and boom, followed by an earsplitting shriek from the terrified goblins ensued. The goblins, the ones that survived, scattered, leaving the battle field all to the dwarves. But before they attacked hand-to-hand, Oin first shot the rubble wall that blocked of the steps that led onto the permanent wall. The rubble, mainly consisting of helmet sized boulders, fist sized rocks, and a small amount of mortar plastered scantily throughout the rubble wall, crumbled beneath heavy crossbow bolt. Now, with four hundred and thirty dwarves, Balin and four of the Kings Guard charged into the battlefield, slaying any goblin that ran in their direction when escaping the crossbow bolt explosion. After they charged a little more, they met a group of fifty or so goblins cowering under the presence of the dwarves, who outnumbered them one to eight. The dwarves clashed into them, killing twenty of them in the first stroke, and only two of the blood-lusting dwarves were injured. By the time they reached the wall, the goblins assembled with a thousand strong. Now it was the dwarves turn to be outnumbered. The dwarves fought well, but could not so much as hope to seen victory if not for Oin. Oin was still in the back, firing the crossbow at any assembling group of goblins. Of course, he did not fire anywhere there were dwarves, for fear of hitting them. He dispatched more than a hundred and fifty, and sent their ranks into confusion. Balin and twenty others, including the four King’s Guard, breached the left side of the mass of goblins. After fighting through their enemy, they reached the wall and climbed it up backwards, parrying blows from frustrated goblins. But sadly, while stepping up the staircase backwards, Krovan did not lift a foot high enough and it hit against one of the stone-hard steps, causing him to fall. The goblins fell upon him, and he stood no chance. Casey turned to see the commotion, and when he saw the fate of his friend, he bellowed. He knew he could do nothing, but he still fought the goblins to get to him. Balin tried to constrain him, but he broke free. “Casey! You must come!” Finally pulling himself away from the already dead Krovan, Casey staggered back, nearly tripping and joining his dead friend. Making it up the wall, the wounded and injured crawled up to the far side, while the capable dwarves kept the narrow staircase defended. It was a tough fight, but the staircase was narrow enough to filter the goblins, allowing only a few to fight at one time. But the losses were enough, and Balin knew he had made a bad decision when the dwarves climbed the wall staircase. He knew they needed help. Leaving the staircase, he drew a horn and touched it at his lips. Blowing as hard as he could, the sound echoed against the rock walls of the tunnels, and even the goblins were frightened by the reverberation. Dwarves from every place on the battlefield looked towards Balin. The goblins knew they were doomed; for the dwarves knew their leader was in danger, and that drove them on to fight towards him. For a short time on that field of battle, not one dwarf lost his life. In addition to that, hundreds of goblins lost their lives in the same short time. About a hundred dwarves made it to the wall in time to assist. That was more than enough. Even Oin aimed at the enemies enclosing Balin. The goblins crumpled under the weight and onslaught of the angry dwarves. Of the thousand goblins, only four hundred survived. Unfortunately, after the dwarves realized that their leader was safe, they slackened their attempts to protect their king. The goblins saw this as a perfect opportunity to attack, and many dwarves died. Soon, although, the dwarves defeated the goblins and, in turn, recaptured their lost fortifications. But they also had loses too, as three hundred and twenty five remained. And, in a way, they lost Casey. He couldn’t fight in that battle afterwards, because the loss of his long-time friend was too great. Balin could not help but to feel sympathetic towards Casey. “I am sorry, my friend.” “Oh, death must come to all of us, though I expected it to be later. Will you be attending the funeral?” “Yes, of course. Even though there are a lot more to bury, I can assure you that he will get the proper burial.” “We must attend to that, of course. Let’s go.” And with that, they walked into the bloody mess. There were mostly goblin corpses, but dwarves littered the field also. So much death, thought Balin as they walked through the blood-red mud. Yet for such a petty cause: Hatred between two races. The stench of all of the bodies of the goblins were stacked into a great heap, and burned; while the bodies of the dwarves had to be buried in a great pit. All but the most important--including Krovan--was buried this way; the superior was buried individually. So sad that it end this way, Balin thought, but he was wrong. It did not end there. « Last edited by Twilight Knight on 19th Apr 2008 » |
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Changed my account to Days of Ragnarok. | |||
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ACDC fan 08
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Posted at: 20-May-2008 16:01:41
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| i meani cant read but a few words of my handwriting | |||
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Days of Ragnarok
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Posted at: 30-Jul-2008 13:47:43
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# # #Ether’s Ring Chapter One Mysteries in the night Eendor awoke one day to a loud boom echoing through the small village of Lumbridge. “What was that?” he said to himself as he jumped out of his bed. Another boom echoed, followed by an unearthly screeching. Eendor trotted to the wall to grabbed his bow and lumber axe and raced down the stairs that led to the first floor of his family’s house. As he sped down, his foot missed a step, causing him to crash headlong down the stairway, gaining himself a few unwanted cuts and bruises. Groaning as he climbed to his feet, he groped around in the dark for his two lost weapons. He found the axe, but he couldn’t manage to locate the bow. It wasn’t surprising, as dark as it was, for the only light was from the full moon outside. Giving up the search, he continued into the living room where he discovered that he wasn’t the only one awakened by the noises. He found his father Eendron striding towards the door with his huge double-edged lumber axe in his scarred hands. As Eendor entered the room, his father’s gaze landed on him. “Are you alright?” he asked. “I’m fine,” Eendor replied as he approached the door. “What was that?” “I have absolutely no idea. It came from the forest’s direction, don’t you think?” “As far as I can tell,” Eendor replied simply as he opened the door and followed his father outside into the village. What they saw was almost comical. From nearly every house men came wearing nothing but there sleeping clothes, and none of which were unarmed. Each of them had a weapon of some sort, from an axe, to a bow, and occasionally a sword. The villagers owned these weapons because of the Minotaur raids that were becoming more and more frequent that year, and no one wanted to be caught without a weapon. After hearing nothing more from the noises in the night, the men and their families returned to their homes, tired and grouchy. Everyone, that is, except Eendor. He longed some kind of adventure, albeit someone new in town, or even the hated Imperial soldiers of the Empire. But little did he know of the adventure he was about to get himself into. “Are you coming?” his father asked. “No,” Eendor replied, “I think I’ll stay out here and enjoy the winter air. Don‘t worry, I won‘t go anywhere.” His father looked at him in disbelief. “Don’t get yourself into to much trouble,” he said, to which Eendor laughed. As his father opened the door, he said, “I’m serious,” and closed the door after himself without waiting for a reply. Eendor was left alone. No one could help but to admire the beauty of the breathtaking view Eendor saw that night, as he would see every night had he simply walked back into his house, and returned to his sleep. However, he didn’t. The forest was blanketed in glittering snow, and the moon lit up the night with an astounding beauty. A small breeze wafted through the town. A sigh escaped Eendor’s lunges and he gazed around the village he had known his whole life. Only once had he traveled outside of Lumbridge. Only once, and to him, that wasn’t enough. After checking to see if anyone was watching, Eendor silently crept off, eager to discover some kind of adventure. As Eendor walked in the direction of the noise, he considered what could have been the source. It could have been a Minotaur’s raid, he thought to himself. That would explain the infernal screeching. Then again, it could be some soldiers up to no good. Ooh, I can’t wait to see what it is! First things first, however, I need to find it before anything else falls into place. Purely by luck, the boy managed to stumble onto a small clearing where the snow had been melted and blackened, and where some of the sticks had been burnt. Laying in the snow was a man clad in a grey cloak, with a grey hat laying a few feet away from him. Eendor crept cautiously towards the man, ready for anything. He arrived a few feet from the man and when nothing happened, he tapped the man’s shoulder. He stirred, obviously alive. I don’t think I could carry him to the village. Maybe I can awaken him. He tapped the man’s shoulderagain, but he simply drew a short breath, and rolled over onto his belly. Frustrated, Eendor kicked him again, harder this time. The only response he received was a stifled groan. “Ah, come on!” he mumbled to no one in particular. An idea popped into his head, and his eyes lit up. “I’ve got it,” he said before he began looking around for a certain object. A few yards away from the man he found what he was looking for: an old rotted out gourd. It was perfect for what he had in mind. He took it and trotted off, certain that his plan would work. After a few minutes, he trotted back to the small clearing with the gourd full of cold creek water. “This’ll work,” he giggled to himself. The man’s eyes fluttered open as he felt the frigid water splatter against his cheek. He jumped to his feet and looked around urgently. When his gaze landed on Eendor, It never left. While watching him, the man backed slowly and bent down to gather his hat and staff. “Are you well, sir?” Eendor asked, puzzled by the stranger’s reactions. “Where are they? The Lucadri, the red demons!” “Sir, calm down,” Eendor replied soothingly. “I haven’t seen any red demons around here, and probably won’t ever.” “You haven’t seen them,” the man asked. “Oh, what am I saying? If you have seen them, you’d be dead. I’m glad you awakened me, or I would have been killed in my sleep.” He fell silent, deep in thought. “We need to go,” he said finally. “Where is the nearest town?” “Lumbridge?” asked Eendor. “It’s a half an hour’s march from here.” “I make a request: please take me there.” “Wait; at least tell who you are.” “I’m no one of consequence,” the man replied simply. “How can I trust you then?” “I guess you can’t,” the man replied after a moment of thinking. “Can I at least know your name,” Eendor requested. “Hmm, I guess I owe you that much, but you must tell me your name first.” “Why should I tell you mine, but you not yours?” Eendor said, thoroughly frustrated at this point. The man sighed. “Some call me Alberick.” “Alberick? My name is Eendor.” “Now, if you don’t mind, take me to the village. I need to get supplies.” “What?” inquired Eendor. “It’s in the middle of the night.” “Just take me there,” said the man, “and I’ll be out of here. I’ll never bother you again.” “Fine,” Eendor replied, irritated. “I’ll take you to my home. The Inn won’t be open at this hour, and I suspect you will need a place to stay, unless you prefer to sleep under the stars.” “No,” Alberick replied. “I’ll take you up on that offer.” A few minutes later, Eendor managed to muster all the courage he could, and asked a question that had been pressing his mind since he had met the man. “Are you a wizard?” he asked bluntly. “My appearance might suggest that, wouldn’t it?” he replied, which, indeed, was the truthe It did resemble that of a wizard’s garb. He wore a grey robe that hung just above the ground, and atop his head was a grey pointing hat. He also wielded a wooden staff, gnarled and twisted at the top. “Yes, it does. You do look like one,” Eendor said. “Things are often not what they seem,” Alberick replied. “Sometimes things can be quite the opposite.” “So… you’re not a wizard.” “That’s not what I said. I only said ‘some times’.” “So you are?” Eendor asked, thoroughly confused by now. “Again, that’s not what I said,” Alberick retorted. “What I mean is that if I am, I would not tell the likes of you, and if I am not, we would not be having this conversation.” Eendor glared at the old man. “I’m sorry I even brought it up,” he said irritated. Alberick laughed. “Don’t feel bad. When you are outside of your village’s boundaries, people are much different.” “We’re not outside of the village, now are we?” Eendor replied. “We’re here.” A gentle breeze drifted by, lifting a few snowflakes from the white, almost translucent, snow-covered ground. Nothing stirred; silence presided the night with an unquestionable power. As the two walked, however, the stillness was shattered like glass by a throaty caw, caw. Alberick glanced over his shoulder, and walked faster with Eendor trailing behind him. “In what direction does your house lay?” he asked, slackening his pace to allow Eendor to overtake him. “This way,” Eendor replied. “I’ll lead you there.” “Hurry,” the old man urged. As they neared the house, another caw sounded, to the left this time, drawing Alberick’s attention, followed by another call, seeming to answer the former. Eendor looked around suspiciously with an anxious eye. Something was amiss, he was sure of that; even Alberick’s actions depicted that much, but he dared not think of what could be lurking in the inky blackness of the night. With a shaky hand he grasped the handle of the door and twisted it, allowing the door to swing open with a whine of protest. To be polite, he allowed Alberick to enter first. “Eendor,” Alberick said in a hushed voice. “Be ready to wake in a moments notice. This could very well be a bloody night. There are creatures out there that do not sleep. Beware!” Horror crept across Eendor’s face. “Should we alert my father?” he asked urgently. Alberick nodded. “I apologize for bringing you two into this mess. If we last the night, I’ll be sure to leave with a few gold coins less. Go now. Awaken your father.” Eendor scrambled away, catching his foot on a chair causing him to land sprawled out on the floor. Alberick shook his head, and Eendor scrambled back to his feet to run up the stairs. His father came down first, followed by Eendor. “What is the meaning of this?” Eendron cried. “Sir, I wish not the alarm you,” Alberick replied almost sarcastically, “but there are creatures just outside of your house that would eat the flesh off your bone if they were to see you alone. They would cut out your liver and nibble on it as an appetizer. They are cannibals.” Eendron said nothing, so Alberick continued. “They are called the Lucadri,” he said, acquiring a solemn tone, “the red demons. They are looking for me, and they need me alive, but you, they care not about anything in their path. They could kill you without a moment’s hesitation. I apologize for bringing you into this mess, and as I said to your son, I’ll leave you a few gold coins--if we last the night. Also, if you wish for me to leave, I would understand completely.” “No,” Eendron said softly. “I wouldn’t throw a guest out on the streets, especially with these creatures you speak of.” He didn’t seem convinced. Eendor fell into a restless sleep, apprehensive of what was to come. Chapter Two An Unlikely Savior Eendor dreamt a queer dream that night. In this dream, he stood on a flat grassy plain, with no significant landmark as far as the eye could see. He looked around and saw nothing, but suddenly, his gaze drifted to the north, and the air grew extremely clear. He could then see a huge mountain range in the distance. At first it was blurry and small, but it seemed to get closer and closer, until it seemed to stand not but a stones throw away. He could see it clear enough that he could make out an entrance to a mine and people coming in and out. But he was mistaken, for the figures were much to short, and stocky to be humans. Those must be Dwarves, he thought to himself. While admiring their short structures, a terrible screeching pierced the air. He looked up and saw a two huge, red birds circling high above him. He tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t allow it. Then one of the griffins---as some call them---swooped down. Eendor tried to run away to the Dwarves mines, but the mountain seemed to get farther away and more distant. Suddenly the griffin sounded a shrill cry, resonating in the air. “Eeeendooor!” it hissed, and then a second time: “Eeendoor!” but this time the cry was clearer and less inhuman. “Eendor! Eendor!” To Eendor’s surprise, it suddenly occurred to him that it was not the griffin, but instead it was Alberick’s voice. “Help me!” he wanted to cry, but his mouth wouldn’t allow him to. “Eendor, awaken!” Wake up? he thought. What’s that supposed to mean? Sudden realization swept over him; he was under the surface of a dream world, from which his consciousness was desperately trying to escape. But try as he might, he couldn’t, for the voice of the griffin seemed to pin him there, in the dreamscape. “Eendor! Awaken!” Alberick said with a hint of urgency. His voice sounded faint, as if Eendor was deep under the surface of a body of water. I can’t. Help me! The griffin swooped closer, causing Eendor to hide behind his hands in terror, intending to expose his forearms to the red bird’s talons rather than his face. Futile, as it turned out to be, for the talons sunk into his chest, not his face. Two things happened then; one: Alberick’s voice called much louder than before. Two: he escaped the bonds of sleep. When he awoke, the first thing he saw was the wrinkled face of the old man, Alberick. “Eendor, are you awake?” “Yeah, sure,” he replied as he sat up. “I’m awake.” He wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “Oh, I had the strangest dream.” Alberick’s head sprang up with an urgent look. “What happened in this dream?” “Well, I was on a plain, and two, giant red birds attacked me.” “Did they make contact?” “What?” Eendor asked quizzically. “Did they actually cut you open?” “Uh, yes, they did,” Eendor confessed. “It was just a dream, though, right?” “I’m afraid not,” the old man replied. “I’ll explain later, but for now, it’s like a foreshadowing of things to come, but it can be changed. Yes, it can be changed. Now go awake you father. He is still asleep.” Eendor walked up the stairs, anxiety apparent on his pale face. Eendron appeared shortly after with his huge axe, and Eendor with his bow strung with his best arrow, and a quiver on his back. “What is going on?” Eendron asked. “They attack. The red demons, they come. They’re outside the house, trying to gain entrance.” “What shall we do?” Eendron asked, his long beard swaying. “What can we do?” Alberick replied.“ The best thing we can do is try to keep them from entering the house. Now, someone bar the windows and I’ll set a---” As he was speaking, the front door shattered, showering the three with a hailstorm of sharp splinters. A considerable large one embedded itself in the chest of Eendor’s father with a dull thud, knocking him off of his feet and on his back. With a horror-stricken face, Eendor looked at his father with in disbelief. “Father!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?” Eendron said nothing. On the other side of the shattered door, there stood what looked like a huge crimson man, eight feet tall, bulging muscles underneath fiery red sleeves. His crimson head was completely shaved of hair and on his face was a long hooked nose. He wore a red tunic with black trousers above bare feet. Wisps of air spewed from his flaring nostrils as his chest heaved back and forth. His lips curled into a smile. “Give them to me!” he bellowed. “Give me the rings!” “Burn in hell!” Alberick cried in defiance, to which the demon laughed. “Hell! Don’t talk about hell! Give me the rings and maybe I won’t send you there.” “Never!” Alberick cried, and thrust his staff towards the demon igniting the air between them in a jet of flame. Uttering a short screech, the creature leaped back a full thirty feet and landed on top of a building parallel to Eendor’s. He shut his eyes and pursed his lips before three red, translucent tendrils rocketed from his back. Alberick countered by spinning his fiery staff. The tendrils dissipated right before they touched the flame, as if they were never there, but alas, three more shot from the creatures back, and again, Alberick drove them away. The third time the creature tried a different strategy, this time attempting to surround the enemy, rather than try to skewer him. But Alberick countered again by raising the staff above his head, and spinning it, creating a disk of flame. The circumference of fire fell downwards until Alberick was completely covered by a dome of fire. After the tendrils retracted, Alberick brought the spinning to a sudden stop, and then crashed the staff to the ground. The land shuddered, and gave way into a fissure stretching from Alberick to the creature. Flames spurted from the crack, forcing the demon to evade it by leaping high into the air. At the peak of his jump, his arms morphed into wings, his legs into talons, and his face seemed to grow a beak. He swooped down and plucked Alberick from the ground, only to hurl him back with tremendous force. As Alberick scrambled to his feet, he cried to Eendor. “Run, Eendor, run as if the Hounds of Hell were behind you!” But Eendor wasn’t there. * * * “Give them to me! Give me the rings!” “Burn in hell!” As the melee began, Eendor could tell Alberick was outmatched, and that he would need assistance. Since his father was dead, it was up to him to find help. Grabbing his axe, he ran to the stairs, but before he could get there, he tripped over a chair. Damn! he thought. That’s the same chair I tripped over earlier today. He climbed to his feet, and continued to the stairs, but on the way his foot was caught by something. That something, Eendor discovered, was his father. I’m sorry, dad. He knew his fate then. He would extract his revenge from the demon, or die trying. * * * “Run Eendor! Run like the hounds of hell were behind you!” Alberick cried, but the person he had directed it to was gone. He must have already escaped, he thought. It was wise. One would have to be a fool to stand up to this creature, but yet here I am. I just hope he doesn’t try to be a hero and come back. I feel responsible for his father’s death too. That’s just too bad. If I manage to live, I’ll leave him more than just a few gold coins. Alberick crawled to his feet, and watched the creature transformed back into human form. Driving his staff into the ground he stopped a tendril aimed to knock him off his feet, but two more shot towards his head only to be disintegrated by Alberick’s flaming staff again. Another whipped to the side, catching his foot. It retracted, taking Alberick with it before lifting him completely off the ground and swinging him back and forth. After laughing the creature drew his captive close to his face, and bellowed, “Do you give up now?” As a reply, Alberick lashed out, catching the demon’s nose with his fist. The creature remained calm, but only for a moment. Suddenly, anger leapt across his face, and he whipped Alberick high into the air, only to slam him back onto the ground. Alberick, completely winded, staggered to his feet breathing in violent gasps. The demon curled his lips and laughed a prolonged laugh. I can’t do this, Alberick thought. I need help. Someone, please! And if to answer his silent plea for help, Eendor appeared from on top of his house, axe in hand. He leapt from the building and hammered the axe into the demons skull with all of his might, causing bluish-green liquid to seep from the wound. The creature let out a horrid scream that pierced the air, and clawed into Alberick’s consciousness. He remembered nothing more. |
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