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Post by pat673 on Sept 5, 2008 11:50:44 GMT
Sareth crept forward down a gravelly path of a gully that led to where his Master proposed the Temple may be. He didn't like his chances of finding it; after running into the small Mercenary band by the Waterfall, Sareth had encountered several others, all wearing the mysterious black armour, a white spider print painted on their right pauldron, and as a result had to take numerous detours and supposed shortcuts.
"Lucky you arn't here, Master. You're head would be spinning from this heat." He stated, wiping his brow and briefly glancing at the angry blazing orb directly overhead. As Sareth crept forward and came upon an all too familiar branch and pathetic stream, he added. "And not to mention, we are lost!"
"The ability to always persevere and continue even when one is lost, Sareth is a skill even the mightiest of warriors or the most powerful mage cannot always boast." Came the cutting reply of Phenrig's voice within Sareth's skull.
Sareth sighed and adjusted his leather gloves as his hands became sweaty. He pressed on as his Master began to lecture on about the worth of a stout heart and clear head and the relevance even in the dark ages of Ashan, when the Demon Sovereign waged relentless and a brutal war on the free people of this world. The youth sighed inwardly, he wanted to involved in his Master's mysterious work and he wanted to play the Hero and rescue fair maidens than anything else in Elrath's good world, but it was times like this that irritated him; his Master had an annoying tendency to prattle on about things that didn't even concern him.
"...and that's where we buried him, in the tomb of his ancenstors in the centre of Stonehelm in the Necropolis that lies beneath it, even if it behooved him to be reminded of his Holy bloodline-- Sareth, we're here!"
As his Master's lecturing tone turned to one of excitement, Sareth's ears instantly pricked and his eyes sharpened as he heard the harsh sound of the Mercenaries. From their nasally accents, he deduced their homeland was to the South-West, the lawless deserts between the borders of the Griffin Empire and the southern cities of Heresh. He inched forward from his position in the gully and before him in all it's majesty, lay the remains of the Temple of Ashan, a towering structure of pillars and jutting spires.
"And there it is, Sareth! The Temple of Ashan...Isn't it magnificent? Although I hoped we might have found it before these black Guards, I suppose this will allow you to put that sword to good use. Approach them carefully, you may be powerful and young with a courageous heart, but these men are savage and will kill you on sight."
Sareth found his chest tightening at the thought, "But Master Phenrig, I've never killed another man before. Is the Crystal really that important?"
"Sareth! I'm surprised, I really am that you would even have second thoughts. The Crystal is the last piece of the puzzle and it will prove the be all or end all of this whole expedition that I have both funded and organised. Don't let your thoughts of compassion cloud your thoughts now, Sareth. These men will have no qualm with killing you, why do you show them the same mercy?"
Sareth paused, an irritating itch in the back of his mind made itself know. He shook his head to clear it and took Dunfeng from his belt and held it aloft as he inched forward behind the small group of Black Guards. Before he knew it, Sareth found himself rushing forward and raising his sword high above his head and bringing it down in a swift arc, completely severing the Black Guard's head. The others shouted in shock and unsheathed their weapons, encircling the young Apprentice, their eyes glancing at their fallen comrade.
Sareth hesitated, he didn't know what had overtook him; it was almost as if someone had taken control of not only his body, but his mind. Fighting the increasing urge to vomit as he looked at the fountaining neck of the dead Mercenary, Sareth squared off and raised his sword in a high guard as his Master had taught him. One of the Mercenary's leapt forward attempting to slash along Sareth's back, but again he found his body reacting faster than he thought possible. Their blades met and Sareth was once again in control of his body, and kicked the Black Guard away and turned to face another that had circled around behind him.
As the Guard aimed for Sareth's partially exposed ribs, Dunfeng was brought down and blocked the weaker metal of the Mercenary's blade and with a large crack, the lesser blade broke in two. Sareth brought his sword down and sliced his way through the man's arm as the white of bone was exposed and blood sprayed. With a swift horizontal slice, another Mercenaries life was ended as his throat was cut. Sareth turned to face the remaining Guard who cowered in the dust, winded and amazed, both arms raised in surrender. Sareth only raised his sword once more and pierced the man's heart, the warmth of sticky blood showering over his hands and arms, a feeling of intense belonging in this time of death and blood settling in his heart.
As if breaking from a trance, Sareth fell to his knees as his Master's worried voice suddenly made itself known.
"Sareth? Sareth! What happened? I lost you for a moment." Cried Phenrig in Sareth's mind.
A moment. A moment was all it had taken for him to take the lives of four men and to change Sareth forever. "I...I don't know." He honestly replied as he dropped his sword and looked at his bloody arms and gloves. What had came over him? What had taken control of his own limbs to deal death to those men with amazing speed and precision. He suddenly felt his gorge rise in his stomach and he keeled over and vomited into the dust.
Wiping away the spittle, Sareth sat back and brought shaky hands to his face, the stench of blood and gore assaulting his nostrils. He sat there for minutes, his mind wandering and a feeling of both incredible disgust and fascination at how easily he had killed the Mercenaries.
"Sareth?" came his Master's soft query, riddled with concern. "It's alright Sareth, everyone reacts differently the first time they take another life, but if you are to achieve greatness, you must be willing to accept the consequences of that greatness."
Sareth didn't immediately reply, only stood on shaking legs and bent to pick up his sword and cleaned it on his brown tunic. With a quivering breathe he turned once more toward the looming entrance into the Temple of Ashan and ignored his Master's subtle queries and stepped into the gloom...
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 5, 2008 12:50:53 GMT
Yay for more story! At long last! *applause* I enjoyed it, but it seemed short. I can't wait until the training is over...
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Post by pat673 on Sept 5, 2008 21:59:58 GMT
;D I know, it's such a long prologue, both in the game and in this story More very soon, I'm in a very Dark Messiah mood lately.
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Post by pat673 on Sept 6, 2008 4:30:49 GMT
"Careful now, Sareth," urged his Master inside his head. "These catacombs beneath the temple were once the resting place of the Priests that served Asha in the Old Times. Normally I wouldn't be urging caution but with these Black Guard's have been blemished by the tainted hand of the Necromancers."
Sareth nodded and muttered a soft agreement before continuing onwards in the oppressive gloom, his path clearer with a quick spell of Night Eye cast. With Dunfeng gripped tightly in his clean hands, after he had taken off and thrown away his blood splattered gloves, Sareth inched forward, wary of every creak and groan of wood in the near overwhelming silence. For roughly half an hour he had been scouring the deep tunnel's of the Temple of Ashan, going by a mixture of instinct, his Master's suggestions and a severe case of following his nose.
After Master Phenrig had given up trying to dismiss the oddly silent and despondent Sareth, he had only chimed in to offer advice and to warn Sareth of nearing enemies. But maintaining the link between them, especially as Sareth was now so far away and underground, was taxing Phenrig beyond what he was comfortable with and if Sareth didn't find the resting place of the Crystal soon, his young Apprentice would be on his own until Phenrig could rest and create another link to Sareth's mind.
The young Apprentice froze as firelight flickered down a steady slope of dirt from beyond a stone arch that led into what looked like a semi-flooded courtyard. Minding his head on the relatively low stone ceiling, Sareth dispelled the Night Eye and proceeded through the large Archway into the courtyard. Ignoring the frosty water seeping into his boots, Sareth splashed forward, taking note of the large chandelier in the middle of the large courtyard's ceiling and the pillars of stone that rose upward to greet the high stone roof.
Sareth was brought to a complete halt and his chest suddenly tightened in fear and apprehension as a figure stepped into the dancing firelight, his white head shaved and tattooed with alien red markings, cloaked and reeking of death. The figure raised a clawed and chanted. Sareth found himself frozen to the spot, caught in a trance as the man uttered foriegn and harsh words as a purple mist began to rise up from the water and began to wind around the Apprentice's legs like ivy coiling around a tree. As the mist began to rise further and further, Sareth found his eyelids suddenly become heavy and he struggled to keep his eyes on the raised hand of the figure. Lowering his sword to his side, Sareth hung his head as the mist reached his torso, in a cocoon of arcane art that was now threatening to envelop his entire body.
"Sareth!" came Phenrig's distant but strong voice in his clouded head, bringing him from his stupor made Sareth shout in surprise as the mist clawed it's way closer and closer to his neck, the icy cold grip of fear clutching his heart. "Sareth! Defy it! Calm yourself and remember your training..."
Phenrig's voice trailed off as the link between them hung by a thread as the mist continued to cling to the struggling form of his Apprentice. Forcing his mind to be clear, Sareth slowed his breathing as he bordered on panic and resisted every urge to bring up his sword and attempt to cut through the shroud of purple mist. His mind worked furiously to discover the nature of the mist and thus it's weakness but he couldn't help but groan in pain as his body temperature plummeted as the mist now clung to his chin.
Then he had it: it was a form of binding spell! whatever the user was trying to bind him to, Sareth didn't know but from the profane nature of the spell, he judged it a form of Necromancy. But binding was only an Illusion, any mediocre Apprentice knew that and the only way to break free from a spell of binding was to free your mind of it. But it was easier said than done as the mist continued to engulf Sareth. His head soon became covered, something alien in him stirred in the pit of his stomach, something black and terrifying that scared him worse than the enveloping mist. The unfamiliar feeling began well up inside him until he found himself becoming wide eyed with horror at the feeling of rage and unsurpassable might that made his cold fingers tingle with new found heat and his heart reject the bitter cold that had been lodged there.
Sareth found an inhuman roar build up in the back of his throat as the muscles in his chest, arms and legs tightened and probed the walls of mist for weaknesses. As the foreign howl of anger rushed past Sareth's lips, the purple mist fell away from his body like smoke before a harsh wind, leaving the Necromancer wide eyed with both disbelief and horror. Sareth snatched up his sword as the black feeling within him coiled like an angry snake, ready to strike. He rushed forward, sword above high above his head and just as the Necromancer brought a hand forward to emit another spell, Sareth leapt forward and time seemed to slow.
He could hear the slow drip of water from the roof of the courtyard, the alien war cry from his lips reverberating from the stone walls, the weak shout of surprise from the Necromancer as a charge of lightning built up in his palm. For an instant Sareth saw a different image, instead of the cruel faced Necromancer, it was his father, knightly and proud that stood before him, a look of horror coming over his face. "My son!" But then it suddenly changed again, a flash of an armoured foe lifting his arms to the heavens, the water splashing at his knees suddenly becoming a pit of fire. Then it changed back to his father, his previously blue and steely eyes now two burning red orbs within his skull and hellfire danced along the blade of his sword, a demonic tail peeking over his shoulder. It was there only for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough to be burned in Sareth's memory forever. A deep rumbling voice echoed in Sareth's head, "My son..."
Time seemed to come in a rush as if to catch up as Sareth brought his blade down, lodging it with a spray of blood and gore into the Necromancer's exposed head, breaking the illusion. He came down from his leap with a roll into the water, the Necromancer's swaying body soon followed with a splash. Sareth retrieved Dunfeng from the cloven head of the Necromancer and stood and exhaled deeply, the black feeling inside began to dissipate. His mind turned to the image of his changed Father with fiery eyes and a demon's tail, the hell sword held in his hands and the words "My son..." seemed to linger inside his skull.
He brought a shaking hand to his head and ran it through his wet hair and tried to talk to his Master, but the link had long since broken with the arrival of the black entity within Sareth. The Apprentice sheathed his sword and rubbed his temples, his head was pounding and he struggled to get his mind around what he had just experienced. What was the alien feeling of rage and hatred inside him? But as Sareth pressed onwards to find the Crystal, his mind turned to another question: how could he control it?
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 6, 2008 10:05:04 GMT
I liked that, although I do, to some degree, feel like its too obvious too early that he is related somehow to demons and evil, rather than perhaps just appearing quick-tempered or cruel. Surely he would have grown up feeling like this to some degree. I feel like the 'my son' voice would have been better without the demonic image. Without the image, it leaves the question of who said it and where it was coming from. Sareth could have, mistakenly, thought as he was killing the necromancer that he was in fact killing his father (in a moment of confusion). THat would've been appropriately twisted, I feel. But all in all, I enjoyed this chapter as well, and can't wait for the next. Just trying to point out some subtler ways of developing a character and a story.
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Post by pat673 on Sept 6, 2008 11:34:47 GMT
Yeah, but introducing it well into the story all is done for a reason Sareth convinces himself that it he was under the influence of the Necromancer after Phenrig explains later on he was attempting to control his mind and the feeling inside him nothing more than an illusion. It doesn't come back up for a while from now on either. Well, I'll get cracking and make a new chapter...although I've noticed that a good sized chapter on TES Fiction looks very short here on Illusionaria with the width of the message board being wider...
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Post by pat673 on Sept 6, 2008 13:38:41 GMT
Sareth sat down heavily in the leather padded chair and absently stroked his chin, rough with several days of new brown stubble and his mind turned to the events that had taken place in the Temple of Ashan: after the encounter with the Necromancer, Sareth had continued and found the Shintari Crystal guarded by a vicious Cave Spider, more than twice his size.
Any moment during the battle, Sareth had expected the 'black snake' as he thought of it, inside him to strike and take control of him, as it had done during his encounter with the Black Guards and the Necromancer, but none such thing had taken place. As he had been taught by his Master, Sareth had to rely on his wits and logic to defeat the monstrous guardian. Retrieving the Crystal from it's sacred resting place, Sareth found his way out from the Temple and rode back to his Master's homestead in Elmresh as soon as he could.
Now he sat in his Master's study, the crackling fire in the hearth didn't offer him any warmth as his mind continued to linger on the Necromancer and the black snake. What had he really seen? Now as he tried to look back, it was if the memory was tainted, almost like his mind were adding parts onto it to scare him. Things that never really happened. The sound of ice and liquid in a glass of crystal brought Sareth from his reverie as his Master entered the room, garbed in a red robe and carrying two glasses of Elmreshian Whiskey. Phenrig held one glass out to Sareth before sitting down heavily in the opposite chair with a sigh of content as he took a swig. For a tense moment Phenrig gazed into the flames as Sareth absently rocked his glass back and forth, watching the caramel liquid splash over the outcropping of ice.
"Sareth, don't be afraid," said Phenrig suddenly, breaking the tense silence. "Necromancer's are worshippers of Profane magic; twisted and...wrong. That man, if he could be called so, was playing on your fears--nothing more. What you saw was no more than an illusion inside your head, Sareth."
"Yet it was more real than anything I have experienced," replied Sareth softly, taking a tentative sip of the bitter alcohol, the image of the Demon Lord springing to the surface of his conscious once more. "But I didn't understand what I saw; it didn't make any sense to me, so how could he be playing on my fears?"
"Think nothing of it!" answered his Master sharply. "You were able to break through his illusion and kill him; you should be proud of that. Not to mention retrieving the Crystal!"
After another quiet moment, fraught with tension, Sareth managed to utter, "Master...I'm afraid." Sareth's lower lip began to tremble and he set his glass down and held his head in his hands.
Phenrig's taut and pinched face suddenly became softer as he smiled warmly at Sareth. He put down his drink on the side table and knelt before his Apprentice, laying both of his hands on the younger man's knees. "Come now, Sareth." He soothed, "It's alright. Clear your mind of that matter but do not push it away. Tonight I want you to meditate on this subject, it will be best for you to get past these fears and conquer them outright. You will be a better man for it."
As Phenrig placed a comforting but heavy hand on his Apprentice's shoulder, Sareth brought his hands from his face and laid them in his lap and sat back, the feeling of disquiet and discontent within his belly beginning to dissolve. "Yes, Master."
His Master flashed another quick smile and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before standing up and walking over to the hearth. To any onlookers it would of appeared that Phenrig placed his hand inside his robe and withdrew a star, it's white light resting gently in the palm of his old hands. Sareth's chest swelled with pride as he looked at the Crystal, it's ethereal quality filling him with courage and valour.
Phenrig threw Sareth a quick grin before placing the Crystal on a cast iron mantle that reached Phenrig's chin. The Crystal seemed to emit a high pitched keening sound, but not one unpleasant to Sareth's ears but, rather made him feel at peace. This was truly an artefact of the Old Times, he deduced as he appreciated it's glowing and pulsating exterior.
"There, I knew that would make you feel better," stated his Master as his Apprentice stood to better inspect the Crystal. "But now, Sareth, on to business."
"Business, Master?" Sareth asked, his eyes still on the Crystal. Nothing in his entire life had he seen such a thing of ethereal beauty, that truly pleased and contented him to look upon.
"Yes, Sareth. We may have the Crystal, but that is only one Chapter of your life now. That was your initiation; retrieving the Crystal, I mean. You are no longer under my care and tutelage! You are a free man!" Phenrig walked over to the side table and raised his glass to the dumbfounded Sareth. "Here's to you, Sareth, my faithful disciple!"
Sareth couldn't speak. He knew his initiation was coming and he knew that one day he would no longer be Apprenticed to his Master, but Sareth had no idea that the retrieving the Crystal would be it. Since his parent's death in a carriage accident, Phenrig had been his whole family for more than sixteen years now.
Cocking an eyebrow at Sareth's silence, Phenrig continued. "It is a little early, I must admit, compared to some of the ages other Apprentice's graduate at, but I have taught you all I can and it shows, Sareth. It really does; I am most proud of you. Most Apprentice's have to gather a rare ingredient for Alchemy... or best a Master in a battle of wits, but you are special and you have all that you need to achieve your Destiny...Your father would have been proud to see you this day; initiated into the arts of magic. A fierce and noble warrior to boot. "
Sareth licked his dry lips and bowed low, "I thank you, Master, you are most generous." He paused, wondering if he what he was about to say was the right decision. "But if it is alright with you Master, I should like to stay in your service. After all, where else have I to go?"
Phenrig suddenly boomed with laughter, but not condascendingly. "Sareth, my boy! I was desperately hoping you would say that! I graciously accept your offer of service." He added more formally with a quick court bow and a flourish of his arm. "But you realise that you no longer have to call me Master...Phenrig will do."
"Of course, Mas--Phenrig. It will take some getting used to."
"I can imagine, Sareth. So shall being a Mage, but I think you shall enjoy it. As a first matter of business, I'm sending you to the Free City of Stonehelm; your destiny does not lie here, it is out there, in a distant land."
"Stonehelm, Master?" asked Sareth, ignoring the fact he had used the old term for Phenrig. Stoneholm was the central hub of the land that used to belong to the Griffin Empire before it's decline; the very heart of Ashan.
"Phenrig, Sareth. Just Phenrig. There is a Mage there by the name of Lord Menelag, the ruler of Stonehelm, we both have certain mutual interests in finding the Skull of Shadows. Yes, you know the one--that is what my mysterious expeditions involve Sareth, the last remnant of Sar-Elam. The Seventh Dragon."
"I don't understand...Phenrig. Why do you seek the Skull of Shadows? We have the Crystal; what do we need that for?" Sareth frowned, he only knew the Skull of Shadows by name, it was surrounded in myth and speculation but had always been discarded as nothing more than a legend from the Old Times.
"Things are moving, Sareth, the cogs are clicking into place. The prophecy of the Dark Messiah is unravelling and Sar-Shazzar's words are coming true. We must find the Skull of Shadows before the enemy does; before it is too late. The Crystal, on the other hand, is the key to the Skull of Shadows, so you must take it with you. Menelag is unfortunately unable to progress any further in his search. At least now without the Crystal..."
This getting all a bit too much for Sareth, who shook his head to clear it. "But Master, I don't understand. The Dark Messiah? Prophecy? I have no knowledge of these things."
"Nor would it have proven wise if you had before this day, Sareth. The agents of the enemy are always watching, waiting for a person to exploit, a plot to twist and an advantageous opening. But I will not speak of these things here, nor trouble you with ancient prophecies set down by cursed men. Menelag, when you arrive in Stonehelm, will answer all of your questions."
Sareth nodded, at least that was one thing out of the way, but not all. "What about you, Phenrig? Are you not coming with me?"
"As I said, I'm sending you to Stonehelm, however, my dear boy, I am not sending you alone." Phenrig turned and bowed his head as his hands made intricate patterns in the air, a circle of light appearing on the wooden floor. "For this task, you will need a guide; a companion...perhaps even a Guardian."
The light began to build up from the floor, taking a roughly human shape before Sareth's eyes. He stepped back, unsure of what to expect. "...She may even teach you a few...other things." Added Phenrig knowingly.
Coils of light began to concentrate and the rough figure took the lithe form of a female, buxom and comely, a dress of white silk hugging her curves, beads and exotic necklaces falling down her ample cleavage. The woman tucked a strand of long brown hair beneath her ears before bowing before Phenrig. "What is your bidding, my Master?"
Phenrig turned to Sareth and nodded, "One can travel lighter than two, Sareth. She is to be your spirit guide, she goes where you go and does what you do."
Sareth felt uncomfortable under the steely blue eyes of this woman as she turned to face him and looked him up and down, a small mischievous smile tugging at her full lips. "Am I to...protect, this boy?" She asked, looking from Sareth back to Phenrig.
Phenrig simply nodded and the woman stepped forward, her curvaceous hips swinging side to side as she strutted over. Sareth took a step back as the woman circled him.
"Fear not, this will not hurt a bit," she said, running a fine finger along Sareth's chest suggestively, before taking his arm and bringing him in closer to her. Sareth felt a tingling sensation work it's way through his hand that touched her supple skin that made him shiver with anticipation. "Shhh..." She pouted and brought her hands around his neck and tugged him closer before licking her lips. "I'm a friend, an ally...but I could be so much more."
Sareth felt the tingling sensation increase within him until it was nearly unbearable and his legs began to shake. She leant back and her steel blue eyes looked into his hazel ones. "By the way, my name is...Xana."
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 6, 2008 18:42:10 GMT
Woo-hoo, Xana. Having her in Sareth's head will be pretty funny. I'm still really enjoying this: Stoneholm will be fantastic, I'm sure. Looking forward to more, and I'm loving how you've developed this (although you seem to holding some bits back! )
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Post by pat673 on Sept 6, 2008 21:51:44 GMT
I'm sure Xana will be as much fun to write as, as it is to read it And thanks alot for your support, Illusionary ;D It's not every day you get a big fan of something your writing about. As for me, I'm just glad I'm over and done with with the damn prologue and the story can really get moving.. EDIT: Changed the whole Demon Lord thing. Now it's a little more mysterious.
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 7, 2008 9:59:33 GMT
I like that better. It flows better too.
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Post by pat673 on Sept 8, 2008 10:25:01 GMT
As Gimbol slowly trotted along the large cobbled road, a small inlet to his left and houses dotting the countryside to his right, Sareth's eyes began to unfocus and his eyelids began to feel heavy; he hadn't slept properly since the day Xana had been infused into Sareth's mind. At first it, the thought of another sharing his mind and body irked him, to say the least, and he was still getting used to the sensuous and often inappropriate talk inside his head.
While Master Phenrig had often mind-spoke with him during training sessions as a way to hone his mental prowess, Xana was now apart of him. A spirit of this world that was able to take solid form only when permitted from the person who had managed to bind them into service; in this case, Phenrig. While Xana had been a welcome companion after the two week long ride from Elmresh through forest, plains and mountain paths, her constant need to talk and be active while he tried to sleep, Sareth wished she had just come along in physical form; at least then Xana could of put her money where her mouth was concerning some of the seductive one-way conversations she had.
Judging from the amount of traffic on the road to and from Stonehelm and the different races and cultures on the road, from Elf's from Irollan, Magi and their animated servants from the Silver Cities, Knights of the Empire, Tribesmen of far Heresh and the even rarer Dwarf, he deduced he was near to the city. Dodging carriages pulled by fine Western-breed horses, wheelbarrows and wagons wheeled by farmers and teamsters, patrolling Guards, he continued along the cobbled road.
But something behooved Sareth, the mood of the people seemed tense, where it should have been joyous and thankful in the light of Harvest time. The only talk made was with a serious or frightened tone, he noted with a puzzled frown. A few minutes later, a man with raven black hair, greased and combed back to his shoulders in the style of the Silver Cities, cantered beside Sareth on a chestnut mare. From his clothes and bearing, Sareth judged him a middle class traveling merchant, probably meeting a client in what is the bustling hub of commerce in Stonehelm.
Sareth opened his mouth to speak to the man before the alluring voice of Xana came into his head. "There it is, Sareth, the Free City of Stonehelm." She stated, sounding unusually bored.
Sareth turned his head and as they came around a bend from a tall stony hill, there it was; Stonehelm in all it's glory. It was a city constructed of white stone, towers and majestic spires looming overhead, red banners flying in the breeze, a towering wall encircling the bustling city within. In it's centre stood the Citadel, it's main spire rising to pierce the clouds above Sareth's head.
"Cross-roads of money and magic. Just deliver the Crystal to this Lord Menelag, and we can be on our way."
"I hope so, it's been pretty dull." Sareth replied honestly. "And I'm not used to all of this people pushing and shoving...Although, I must admit I find it odd most of them seem to be leaving the city."
"Oh now, Sareth, you wouldn't be calling it dull in any shape or form if I could take my shapely form." Xana replied haughtily. "But I do agree, something seems odd."
A wagon, laden with travel goods and baskets of food lumbered passed, it's driver hissing to the woman next to him. "...We should go back to the city! Where it's safe."
"No, the farther we get, the better." countered the woman sharply, looking over her shoulder and around nervously.
"But it's our home, Sara!" shouted the man, wiping his sweaty brow with old and wrinkled hands.
"It'll be our tomb if yer don't driver faster! With the army coming this way, there's no hope us 'peasants' outside the walls will survive fer long!"
Sareth once again found himself frowning in confusion, but at the mention of an army heading toward Stonehelm, his chest tightened in apprehension. But before he could open his mouth to enquire about it, the wagon was jostling down the road, the couple still bickering.
"Well, at least we know who's wearing the slacks in that relationship, don't we Sareth?" joked Xana, seemingly not fazed by their talk. "But not me...I like to be...dominated."
Sareth ignored her and rode up beside one of the Guards, heading toward the looming city gates. "Sir, what is this talk of an Army heading for Stonehelm?"
The Guard shook his head, hawked and spat on the ground, "An army of the Damned has been spotted by our scouts along the Alequid Road. They're heading straight for Stonehelm, the bastards! The city is at a near panic, you'd best be turning your horse away and go home, lad."
"I need to see Lord Menelag," Sareth replied, wondering what he meant by the Damned. "And even if I tried, if they're coming down the Alequid Road, it would be folly."
"Well, if you're here to see the Lord Menelag, you'd best hurry. The City is going under Martial Law within the hour; everyone not inside the City walls is to take the West Road to Wayward City and hole up there, hopefully somewhere the Necromancers won't be attacking."
The Guard nodded to Sareth before kicking his heels into his horse and setting off. "Necromancers?" Sareth echoed, the image of the robed Necromancer in the catacombs of the Temple springing to mind, his heart beginning to thump loudly in his chest. "Phenrig never said anything about that."
"Master Phenrig rarely tells all he knows," answered Xana. "Just get inside the safety of the walls and deliver the Crystal. We'll deal with getting out a besieged city later."
Sareth nodded and made Gimbol turn from a leisurely trot to a decent canter, stopping just outside the gates. An Guard wearing the livery and armour of the Stonehelm Guard approached him and held up his gauntleted hand.
"I'm going to have to stop you there, lad." he said gruffly. "I'm 'fraid we ain't letting in any non-locals passed the City gates."
"I have a letter of introduction," Sareth replied, fishing inside his shoulder bag and bringing out a rolled up piece of parchment and handing it to the guard. "I come from the Wizard Phenrig of Elmresh and am to see the Lord Menelag as soon as I can."
The Guard didn't reply, only scoured over the contents of the letter. "Well, this is unnecessarily long." Came Xana's sour reply.
After another moment, the Guard looked up, nodded and handed back the piece of paper. "Everything seems to be in order. I don't exactly envy yer though, lad." The Guard replied bitterly before waving him toward the open gate.
Sareth nodded his thanks and was about to dismount from Gimbol and lead her into the city when a loud horn sounded in the distance. He looked around as the Guards came to attention and hurriedly waved everyone inside. Suddenly the world around Sareth erupted into chaos as a flaming ball of stone was catapulted into the stone archway of the gate, crumbling it and sending fragments and shrapnel in a shower of white stone.
Sareth felt the stone strike Gimbol and him before he saw it. He was launched from the dead horse as soon as the man sized piece of stone struck it's long neck. Sareth collapsed in a pile as soon as he hit the hard cobbles with a sickening crack to his head, smaller fragments of stone still drizzled down. The last thing he remembered was rough hands grabbing him under his arm pits and begin to haul him away...
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 8, 2008 11:57:11 GMT
Yay! More stuff is happening. Best Chapter yet. I did feel like the journey in, getting closer to the city, could have hinted a bit more closely at what was about to come. I felt like in the game, it did that to a greater degree ('course, I could just have an amazing nose for virtual fire...) ... Anyway: it was great, can't wait for the next.
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Post by pat673 on Sept 8, 2008 12:12:19 GMT
Yeah, I know what you mean but I decided to leave the scenes fraught with tension and battle for the next chapter and not make the siege so obvious and then just make it break suddenly, especially with his horse dying from underneath him. But thanks ;D Probably more to come very soon...Right now I'm supposed to be homework after I saw Wicked for Theatre Studies, but I can't be bothered
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