Forums / Roleplaying / Warriors of the Realm, the....
| Warriors of the Realm, the.... | ||||
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....story. The RP game is a variation on a story I am writing. Here is the first Chapter, please give me your thoughts on it. the chapters are getting longer, lol, as I am getting into the story a bit more. hope you enjoy it.
Chapter one: the message Sir Alban was deep in thought, hands rested on his antique desk. As he thought he studied the knots and whorls in the desks surface. It had been in the family for many generations, as had the room it was situated in. The room was paneled with wood, and had lamps attached to the wall at regular intervals. The lamps were many, but they shed little light. The room was the study of the king of the mighty Amastaites. The Amastaities have no known origin. They simply appeared out of the gloom as it were. There arrival was spectacular to say the least; they had marched forth out of the smoke fields, unharmed by the poisonous smoke that spread across its surface. They were resplendent in battle armory, with swords and spears being held in strong grips or hanging from belts. Then they had marched forth, the tramp of their boots making the very earth quake in fear of them. By the time the month was over, only one city was left. This was the city the Amastaities had taken to be their home. They had now lived there for many a year. Back in the study, Sir Alban read through the letter again (His proper title was King Alban, but he did not like to be known as this. No one knew why he disliked the title, but it was his wish that he should be known simply as Sir Abel). The letter went like this: To King Alban, Leader of the Amastaities I am writing to inform you that my kingdom is worried about your dominant power if you do not agree to ally yourself with me and my people. If you do not reply within 78hours I will assume that you have declined my generous offer. If that is the case then action may be taken against you. Yours sincerely Cassius Leader of the ****** P.S. I have not shown the name of my Kingdom as it would risk compromising our situation if we are to be at war. And that was all. In a way it was to be expected, after all, the Amastaities were renowned for their prowess in battle, and showed this skill often when the need for a Sir Alban stood up, decided on his next move. Standing up exposed the fact that he was extremely tall, also the fact that he was not by any means thin. He was a huge, imposing figure, the ultimate warrior. Many in battle had fled before a single sword had been swung, a single arrow fired, when they saw what they were dealing with. Out of the shadows a man stepped. He was the opposite of Sir Alban, small thin and tired looking. But his power lay in his mind, his amazing mind. He was the kings most highly regarded tactician, who went by the name of Genero. ‘You have reached a decision Sir?’ he said, looking respectfully up at him ‘Indeed I have Genero’ replied the king, looking fondly at him. ‘What course of action may I take?’ questioned Genero, mentally preparing for yet another strange decision. Sir Alban had been making strange decisions of late, the reason of which no-one knew why. But then nothing bad had ever happened as a result of these decisions, so no-one worried about them. ‘We send no message’. This statement rang round the room, and the tactician quietly bowed, and walked out of the room.
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Will post chapter two shortly. that chapter is way shorter than the rest, as I was not really planning on making it particulary long to start with. may add more to that chapter. | ||||
thanks for the interest.. | ||||
Chapter two: The Council’s outrage A meeting had been scheduled on short notice, and every member of the high council, the group of powerful people throughout the Amastaities many cities. They came from every corner of their empire; the way they looked was varied. Some arrived in carriages, some arrived on horseback alone, and some had walked with a battalion of soldiers. But the most important thing was that they were all there. The way they dressed also varied in many ways. Some came from high in the mountains, and were therefore clad in warm winter clothes, while others had come from warm areas and wore nothing but very basic armor and a simple tunic. It was as if no-one who came was dressed as appropriate to the climate at the meeting place, except Sir Alban, who had of course called the meeting in the place he was situated at. Once it was confirmed that everyone was there, they went into the chamber that had been built to the exact specifications of Sir Alban. It was a simple room, roughly circular in shape and with no adornment of any kind. There were several wooden benches in regular rows, and at the front a raised platform from which Sir Alban would speak, and at the end of each row there were two candles. This was the council meetings.locationer. As everyone walked in they were taken to their seats, then once seated were left alone to take in their surroundings, or fine-tune a certain part of something they had been preparing to say. Sir Alban, King of the Amastaities walked forward into the room. Everyone who saw him had their breath taken away, for he had come decked out in full battle amour. A gleaming helm adorned his head, while A chain mail shirt glistened in the candle light. Large boots with steel toe caps were encasing his feet. It was an amazing sight. Sir Alban took his place on the podium and began to speak. ‘Two days ago I received a message from a kingdom who refuse to name themselves. This message was in effect, a declaration of war. If we do not ally ourselves with this kingdom, they and their allies will march upon us. I have spent much time in contemplation of this message and came to a conclusion’. At this point he paused, staring around at everyone in the room. Expectant faces gazed back at him. ‘We are at war’ This statement rang in the ears of everyone there. For a moment there was silence. Then the madness began WAR?! WE CAN’T BE A- WHY DID YOU DO THI- YOU DIDN-….This went on and on, and on. The room was full of these raised voices, no-one seemed to be able to restore order. But Sir Alban was a fierce figure. He drew a spear, and calmly banged it against the ground. Hard. Silence was instant. ‘Thank you. Now, my reasons were these: we have had no allies throughout our history. We are very strong, and I for one believe we can hold them off. Also I was approached in a rude manner, he basically said ally yourself with me or I will kill you. Now, I believe this is enough to warrant warring them.’ Everyone in the room was suddenly with Sir Alban. Smiling, Sir Alban turned round and beckoned to several figures that were standing silently in the gloom behind the podium. ‘But I still would not have done this is I did not have these men on my side. These are the Warriors of the Realm | ||||
Chapter three: Warriors of the realm The men stepped forward, walking in prefect unison. Then they stood there doing nothing, just letting their appearance do the talking for them. They were clothed in armour, but that wasn’t exactly surprising. What was surprising was the weaponry that hung from every limb. The weaponry was not any special type, it was swords and spears and bows and such things. But they seemed to glow with their own light, and when they moved shimmered slightly. Everyone in the room was silent for a long time, until Sir Alban decided to break it. ‘As you can see, they are armed with very precious weapons. And though the armour looks average, it is twice as strong as your normal armour. They have also undergone intensive training, and are prepared to die for our kingdom. Their mission for now is to find out who this man who sent the message is, and to what end is he preparing to attack us. I now call this meeting to a close. Any questions? No-one said a thing. They simply sat there, staring at the men. ‘eeermm…well, if there are no questions, then good day to you all, I hope you found this meeting of much worth.’ At that moment a man slowly put up his hand. ‘I don’t suppose we could know their names?’ ‘Aye, you can. They are, from left to right: Bonaventure, Korbin and Quade.’ Bonaventure was tall and muscular, looking like Sir Alban. Korbin was thin, and raven haired. Quade was built the same as Bonaventure, except being slightly shorter. He also has a scar going down his left cheek. As the council finally filed out, the three men stepped back into the shadows. They stood there muttering to each other. Sir Alban left the room also. He went straight to his study once more, lit the lamps, and got out a map. The map looked extremely old, as it was. It was another family heirloom, just as the desk was. Sir Alban ran his hands over the map, spreading it out over the desk, and weighed down the corners with smooth stones. ‘Now, I know you three have followed me in, so pay attention’ At this the warriors all stepped silently into view, and came round to look at the map. ‘As you know, our enemy refuses to be named. So we must find out who the enemy is and what is the purpose of this message. Clear so far?’ The warriors didn’t even bother nodding. Of course it was clear. ‘Right then. We need to scour the land for this kingdom. That is what I wish for you to do. Also there is the matter of you, Korbin; I know you are growing weak. A young boy has been chosen to replace you, but not straight away. You will train this boy in your secret ways; you will show him the fire that resides within you and him, in every one of us. You will help him release it.’ At that moment the door opened, and a boy was ushered inside. ‘This is Jovan, your new apprentice. Look after him and teach him well.’ Korbin walked over to the boy and held out his hand. It was shaken nervously. The boy was in no way remarkable, thin, average height, fair hair. But Korbin knew that it was not a mistake he had been chosen. Once they had shook, Sir Alban took the boy away to equip him for the journey. There were many weapons on display, but Sir Alban quickly picked what would be needed. There was a sword, with a thin blade that was razor sharp. The hilt gleamed golden, and Jovan soon realized it was gold leaf covering it. The next item was a spear, which was made with a single long wooden shaft with lengths of steel running down each side. These lengths of the strong metal reinforced the wooden shaft meaning that it was less likely to shatter. The tips of the arrows were metal, and shaped like a diamond. The next item to be brought out was a bow, which was made very simply, with wood, and horsehair for the string. The arrows had a wooden shaft, and like the spear had thin lengths of steel running down them, though thinner so as not to hamper the arrows flight through the air. The heads were simple, pieces of metal which hadn’t been shaped in any particular way, just so that they had the sharp end pointing in the right direction the feathers on the ends were from a goose, brilliant white in colour. All of the metal parts were steel, but felt strange and in the case of the warriors weapons glowed, but Jovans didn’t. Next was his armour. First there was a chain mail vest made of the same strange metal. There were hundreds of tiny links, all fused together one by one. It must have taken at least a month to make, if not more! Thought Jovan as he examined the vest. Next he had some simple brown leather boots, with metal toe caps. This metal was ordinary. Then Sir Alban pulled out a helmet, and Jovan gasped. It was entirely made of the strange metal, and had a metal bridge of metal that came down to cover his nose and most of his face. But that wasn’t what had made him gasp. What had made him gasp was a gleaming spike on the top of it, looking razor sharp and glinting menacingly. The spike was the same metal, but was a jet black version of it. Lastly came a pair leather trouser, which were a little big for him but would do. They had many pockets which would be useful when collecting things on the road Once Jovan was fully equipped he made his way back to the other warriors. He stood between two of them, looking tiny in comparison. ‘Ok, I have though about our situation and have come to a decision.’ Started Sir Alban, hoping that the plan would be favorable with the warriors ‘You will go ahead as planned out onto the plains looking for this enemy, but without Korbin and Jovan. This is because Jovan I feel should be trained before setting out. The method of search is that of a grid, and on one of them you come within ten miles of this city. Korbin and Jovan will join you then. I have marked out on this map the search method and the place in which you will join together to continue the search. Good luck to you all who are leaving now.’ They took the news without complaint. Jovan however, while he hid his face behind a mask of indifference, was disappointed. He longed to get away from the city, but could see the sense in him being left behind to be trained. Still, he was prepared to go through it if it meant he would get out of the city within the next six months. Sir Alban said to the warriors, before they set off: ‘please send one of you five days ahead of the rest of you as a messenger, you must search the last grid before joining up without one of you, whichever comes to say that you are close. That will give us time to prepare. But for now, farewell, and bring back your news safely.’ After that was said, the two remaining warriors slung their heavy packs over their backs mounted their stallions, and rode away. | ||||
Good story so far. Way better than mine, but mine's improving too. :-) But still, wow!!! | ||||
thanks arvious..out of intrest, how old are you? | ||||
Chapter four: Bearing Hardships Jovan attacked, swinging his sword. His enemy easily avoided his clumsy attack, and disarmed Jovan in a series of blows. ‘Ha! Once again the mighty Jovan loses!’ Said Vince, Jovan’s training partner Jovan got back up, breathing heavily. This had been a daily part of his training for three weeks now, but he still couldn’t get the hang of it. There were lots of different areas in the training department, and Jovan had been using them all. There was the sparring ring, where Jovan had just been training. It was roughly circular in shape, and was surrounded by rope fencing. The floor was a deep layer of sand so that if you fell then it wouldn’t hurt too much, but if you are practicing moves that involve tripping someone, or falling over on purpose, then mats were available for use. Then their was a shooting range, which was made up of twenty targets lined up in a row. Nets separated all the different targets from each other so it was clear which one to use. Beside were you stand to shoot there were racks, each one with two bows, an abundance of arrows and two leather finger guards to stop the bowstring from rubbing against your finger. Away in the far left corner stood one of the largest training areas, the horse training area. To one side of it was simply made, with a sandy floor and nothing else around it. Piled in a corner are practice dummies, that could be made to stand in whatever position is wanted. These were so that mounted soldiers could practice moves they would perform on horseback, whether attacking an enemy or pulling a friend up into the saddle with you. The last part of the horse training area is littered with rocks and boulders that had been dragged in from the cities edge. These made a useful place to practice marshalling a horse through difficult terrain. Next to the training area for the horses are the stables which they are kept in, one horse per style. The slightly musty smell of straw and the animals forever hung over this area. All these things were designed to make a soldier the best possible he could be. But though Jovan knew this, it did not mean to say he enjoyed his training. Although he knew it was for the best, he did not enjoy his training. The people he had to train with had been around weapons and horse all their lives, while the closest he had ever got was seeing the army march through the city on parade day He had found it hard right from the start, immediately starting a sparring match with the weapons master, who had screamed instructions to him the whole time. Jovan shuddered as he thought of that first training session. He had failed miserably, and left with a large collection of bruises. Even now he was not sword fighting well. His fighting partner Vince smiled down at him, and offered a hand to help him up. Jovan took it, and pulled himself up. ‘Don’t worry Jovan; you’ll get there in the end’, Said Vince encouragingly. Jovan just grunted, and headed to his rooms ‘Don’t forget about the horseback training tonight Jovan!’ Called Vince over his shoulder as he walked away. Jovan smiled. He enjoyed riding; it was the only part of his training he had found a natural ability for. He entered his room and fell onto his bed. His training had taken its toll on him. He lay there, feeling wonderfully comfortable, until he eventually fell asleep. He was standing in the middle of a mist that covered the entire surrounding area, and could only see a few feet in front of him. Ahead he saw a shape and headed towards it. It was a hill, and he climbed its sides, sometimes reduced to crawling up its steep sides. Finally he reached the top. Squinting into the distance, a small boulder could just be seen. As he got closer he realized the boulder was in fact a creature of some sort. As he came closer, more of these creatures came into view. As he opened his mouth to speak, one of them came up close, and his breath was taken away. It looked like one of the huge mountain bears that lived way up north, but it stood on two feet. As it came closer, he could see it had razor sharp teeth, and was wearing armour. It roared, and He reeled back in shock. It wasn’t the roar that had shocked him; it was the fact that he UNDERSTOOD it. Somehow in his mind, the roaring was translated. It came out as ‘WHO DARES ENTER OUR SACRED LANDS?!’ He tried to answer, but his words caught in his throat. With a terrible roar the bear leapt towards him………. Jovan woke up screaming. The dream had scared him, and now as he lay still he listened, the slightest sound making him jump. But there was no roaring, no bears. He sighed with relief; it had just been a dream. He then heard someone knocking on his door. He jumped, banged his head on the low ceiling that was over his bed, and fell on the floor in a tangled heap. As he picked himself up Vince burst through the door. ‘Are you ok? I heard a sound like someone falling over’ As he said this Vince scanned the room, and his eyes finally rested on Jovan ‘What happened, you looked terribly pale. And why are you still wearing your gear from sparring?’ Jovan smiled weakly, and stood up, swaying slightly. Vince steadied him and Jovan nodded his thanks. ‘You can let go now, I need to get ready’ Vince let go without complaint, and watched as Jovan hurried round the room getting his kit. Once he had got it all they left for horse riding. They had been told they would be practicing combat from horseback this evening, so wear padded clothing as they may fall off when attempting a particularly tricky move. Though they wouldn’t be practicing against each other, it was still all too easy to fall off when trying an advanced combat move, even though the dummies they would practice on would not move. But Jovan was a confident rider, and rarely fell, so as he put on extra padding he couldn’t see the point. For someone like The padding itself was pieces of leather that had been sown into Jovan and the other trainees clothes. They would do no good in a real battle, but were the perfect lightweight training equivalent to battle armour. Once Jovan had all his armour on he and Vince made their way to training. Once they got there they immediately got there horses. Then their training instructor, a young man who was in the process of, being trained as the replacement instructor, told us to take our horses over to where some practice dummies were positioned. Then the instructor showed how to do a particularly tricky looking move which involved charging the enemy, pulling up violently as soon as you got to it, then driving a pike through its head. This was made harder by the fact that while you were attacking the horse would inevitably rear up to slow down, and so you had to lean over the horses’ side to get low enough to attack. The trainees took it in turns to try and complete the move, and some succeeded, some didn’t. Then it was Jovan’s turn. With a deep breath he charged at the practice dummy. He was completely relaxed; he loved riding and was confident he would pull it off. After all, he had never failed to complete the task he had with the first try. But this time something went wrong. As he slid his hand down the side of his horse in preparation for the abrupt stop he would soon make, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and he was suddenly lying on his back. His head was on fire, having hit it hard on the ground when falling. His horse was being calmed by a trainee, while the rest gathered round him. The training instructor pushed his way through, and said something to Jovan. He didn’t hear it, as there was a strange buzzing noise in his head. His system decided it was all too much, and shut down for repairs. Jovan’s last view before he was out cold was of the training instructor standing over him, slowly fading into a perpetual darkness. | ||||
does it matter? :-) good chapter | ||||
thanks again..there is only one more complete chapter, I havent finished writing it yet (the whole stor). im aiming for about 40 thousand words, I have written five thousand. | ||||
Pack food, you could be there for a long time. :-) | ||||
lol if your interested, im 13. ;-) maybe not your average 13 yr old, writing stories, but oh well and for the record, im not a geek. | ||||
If this game was made in the time of nights, sorcerey, and other types of intelligent creatures, I should be -493.32574893759048175099381 years old. O -_ -_ ==== } (If you're wondering, that's a smilely face) _- O _- | ||||
yeah, I can tell that. how old are you? come on | ||||
Before I answer, how old do you have to be to play? | ||||
lol... it doesnt matter how old you are..at least I dont think so.. well, I know an eight yr old that has played, so i dont think it matters much | ||||
I'm in sixth grade (AND I WASN'T HELD BACK). | ||||
k..so your 11? 12? i started playing when 12. btw, did you have a plot fer ya story? cos with mine i just started writing | ||||
In the middle. Have you seen, National Treasure-Book of Secrets? It's a good movie. | ||||
I'm not sure. if that is the first one then yes, uf the second then no | ||||
11.519938563725554728364 What about I Am Legend? I haven't seen it yet. | ||||
i havent either, want to see it though.
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I am Legend.... I am! And on another note..... I actually older than both of yous! | ||||
And more annoying -_- | ||||
well said wraithish
Chapter Five: Recovery Jovan woke up covered in sweat and shaking. He had had the same dream again. Once he had recovered from the shock, he realized that Korbin was sitting next to his bed ‘You took quite a knock, didn’t you lad?’ said Korbin Jovan grunted, not in the mood to start a long conversation with his tutor. Korbin carried on however, not noticing his pupil’s unwillingness to talk. Either that or he ignored it. ‘Well, hopefully this shouldn’t hinder your training too greatly, at least no more than it already has. I an a way, this has taught you a valuable lesson’ continued Korbin ‘Never be overconfident, you will end up making silly mistakes, like the one you made today. Always respect the opponent; never underestimate the difficulty of a particular move. Hopefully the knock you took two days ago will have shown you that’ finished Korbin. Jovan suddenly felt very weak. He hadn’t eaten for two days! ‘Can I have some food please’, he said weakly. Korbin nodded, and left the room, presumably to get some food. After looking round his room to make sure everything was there, Jovan sat back in his bed and waited for Korbin to reappear. But when the door opened the person who walked through it was not Korbin, it was his friend, Vince. But what grabbed Jovan’s attention was the large bowl of soup in his hands. Seeing Jovan was looking at the soup, he handed him the bowl ‘Korbin sent me over here, though you could use the company.’ Vince explained, and waited patiently as his friend took a massive mouthful of soup, then started coughing as the hot soup burned his throat. Once Jovan had finished coughing, Vince spoke again ‘you gave us a right old scare you know when you fell you weren’t moving, and then the instructor was shouting at us all to stay back, I didn’t know what had happened. What did happen anyway? You’re usually so good with horses, riding them and grooming them’ Jovan, thought back to the fall, and went red. It had been a silly mistake to make, and now he felt embarrassed by it. Usually he performed the moves brilliantly, but that time he had been overconfident, and had paid dearly for this. Jovan was about to admit his mistake, but was saved the humiliation by the arrival of Curtis, a fellow trainee. ‘Korbin wants you in his quarters Jovan, he says it is important’ Jovan nodded, and got up. He immediately sat back down again. Seeing his friend was in need of help, Vince tried to help him up, but it was no good. He wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Can you tell Korbin that Jovan is too weak to come, but is perfectly capable of talking to him here if it is urgent’, said Vince. Curtis nodded briskly, and set off to deliver the new message. Once he was gone Jovan collapsed back into his bed, head swimming. He lay back and tried to recover, while Vince sat watching him ******** The two warriors quickly packed away their belongings, and checked the clearing for any signs of their stay. Seeing there were none, they set out, two magnificent figures standing silently, then moving away on huge horses, one white and one brown, towards the east were the sun was just rising over the peak of a mountain. Quickly they passed over a stretch of rocky terrain, and into the forests at the base of the mountain. The two remained silent throughout this, as they passed through the dense foliage of the forest, quickly picking the best route amongst the trees. They wind was blowing northwards, but for a moment the wind changed and the smell of other creature*beep* the horses. They reared up, snorting and blowing, and refused to be calmed for several minutes. A few seconds after the horses had finally calmed, Bonaventure saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. Wordlessly he drew his sword, and Quade followed suit. Suddenly a cry came from behind them, and a group of soldiers completely dressed in black apart from a red insignia on their chain mail, which gleamed jet black like the rest of their armour. In total about ten were present, and although the two Warriors were outnumbered, they knew that superior training could get them out of this. Quickly Quade charged forward, urging his mount on while attacking ferociously with his gleaming sword, quickly dispatching a pair of men. Bonaventure quickly followed suit, only he dismounted and fought from the ground, ducking parrying, his brilliant sword slicing through the air towards the next soldier. Soon all but one was dead, and he soon followed. But as Quade drove his sword into the soldier, he reached out and made a long cut across Quade’s stomach. They both fell to the ground, one dead, and one unconscious. Bonaventure quickly went over to his pack, this was no time for hesitation. He bandaged up Quade as best as he could, and rode for the capital, moving as swiftly as if he was on dragon back. Before long night fell, and Bonaventure was forced to stop. He made Quade as comfortable as he could, then lay down to rest. He would just have to hope that the escort he knew was on the way would reach them in time ********* Korbin stepped into the room, a look of concern on his face. But it soon disappeared when he saw Jovan lying down in his bed, looking fine. Panic over, he began to speak ‘Our two fellow warriors will arrive in two days if on schedule and at the rate you are recovering it means that we will not be able to join them. Now I know this is a disappointment, but it is necessary. For there is an important lesson you must be taught, but you must be fully alert and fit to perform well.’ Korbin finished, sitting in silence. Jovan could see he wasn’t going to get anything from arguing, so settled back in his bed. Korbin left soon afterwards, and Jovan was left to his thoughts ********** Bonaventure sat up, drawing his sword as he did so. He could hear the sound of hooves. He knew it was probably the escort, but he still needed to act with caution. Silently he sat up, and left the clearing he had stayed in. he crept up to a patch of undergrowth next to the road, and waited. Eventually, about ten horses came into view. Bonaventure sighed with relief. They were wearing the colors of the Amastaities, a black background with tall flames leaping up the front. The flames formed a sword. That was the insignia of the Amastaities. Quickly he stepped out onto the road. As he did so he noticed something. Further up the road, a body lying motionless on the ground. Quickly he hid himself again, and waited till they got closer. Once they finally arrived at the spot in the road he was hiding at, he could see that they were the escort. The body must have been one of the soldiers he had encountered. They must have given this escort trouble as well. Quickly he stepped out onto the road. Immediately several bows pointed his way, but they were put down again once his identity was known. Quickly he told the story of the attack, and showed them Quade. Quickly they got him onto a horse, and began the ride back to the city. As they passed the body that was in the road, Bonaventure saw that it was another of men who had attacked him and Quade. It looked as though he was an archer, who must have hung back. Obviously not the best decision **********
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hmmmmm...a bit strange that...oh well. I mean that suddenly it went wider. when I c+Ped the rest it didnt. all writing the same size too. | ||||
Chapter six: Mourning Jovan rushed from his room, ignoring his body’s protest. He had just heard that Bonaventure and Quade were back. As soon as Fabian, a trainee had brought him the news he had got up. Then Fabian told him about Quade, and he rushed even faster as he thought of those words. Quade lost a lot of blood. He may die. The doctors are doing all they can He tried to block out those thoughts, but they forced their way to the front of his mind and made themselves heard. What if he dies? What will happen to me? Who kil- attacked him? As he hurried on his mind presented him with a full color replay of what had happened. He could see the men riding towards him, the sword driving forward into him. He shuddered, and continued on his way, soon reaching the medical wing and rushing inside. The wing was usually simply bed with a small fire next to it, but there had been preparations for treating a wound as serious as Quade’s. A thick layer of straw had been laid out covering the floor, as Quade injury was deep and he was losing a lot of blood. The straw soaked it up; preventing blood stains on the floor. The Doctor with him was changing the dressings, while another was running a flame over a needle to sterilize it. Knowing what would happen, Jovan left straight away. He had vivid memories of a doctor stitching a wound on his leg, and it had burned and he had screamed throughout the whole process, despite having had poppy, which he had been told reduced the pain. The wound had healed with great speed, so Jovan knew this was a tried and tested method which worked very well. But he didn’t think he could endure the process again, even if it was done to someone else. It would bring back the memories. Once he had actually spared a second to think about anything other than Quade, he realized his head was throbbing and he could barely stand. He staggered his way back to his room, and fell onto his bed. He slept a long and dreamless sleep. ****** Sir Alban walked towards the medical wing, while reading the report that had been given to him by the general of the elite army, who had been sending out scouts. Normally the newly trained recruits would do this, but because of what had happened to Quade the Elite army had taken over this duty. The reports were not good. Troops riding large black horses had been sighted in the area. They wore black armour, which was adorned with a red insignia. One of the scouts had not come back, and that had been a party of some of the best troops they had. The news was extremely worrying, and Alban had to stop himself from showing his growing apprehension. It wouldn’t do for the soldiers to see their leader disheartened, for that in turn would affect them. Once he had finished the report, he hurried to the medical wing. What he saw cut deeply into his heart, and the scene before him stayed with him for the rest of his life. Quade lay down, eyes closed. He could have been sleeping, if not for the silver ceremonial dagger resting on his chest, and a white sheet covering him. This was what was done to the dead. Once he had recovered, the king walked forward. As he did he noticed the plastic covering on the floor was gone, and all the healers had left. Only Korbin and Bonaventure stood there silently. Alban joined them, and together they gazed down upon Quade, the man they had all trusted so greatly. His face was a mask of peace, his hands hanging limply by his sides. Quietly, Alban slipped away, leaving the warriors with their friend. ***** Jovan woke feeling well rested. He felt thirsty, and was pleased to see a steel jug full of water on the desk near his bed. He quickly drank some of the water. Replenished, he got up, and quickly pulled on some clothes. Then he walked out of the room, and went to see Quade. When he saw him a wave of nausea passed over him. By this time a casket had been placed next to the bed, and Quade was lying there, ready to be placed into it. Jovan could not believe that he was dead. He had seemed so powerful, so elegant, he had seemed almost invincible. But before him was the proof that he wasn’t. Jovan felt sure that if he wasn’t, then no-one was. With a sigh, he turned, and walked slowly away, trying to control his emotions. But he could not hold in the grief he felt at this loss, and wept for Quade, for himself, for the other warriors. Once the flow dried up, Jovan began to wonder why he was so upset. He hadn’t seen Quade often at all, and he had not known he existed for more than a month. So why did he feel this deep sense of loss? Maybe ‘Korbin will know’ thought Jovan. He was about to go to see Korbin, but decided that he had been through enough without his presence. ‘He needs to be left alone’ he concluded. So instead he went down to see his horse and get some practice in with that move he had failed at. When he got down there, it was strangely empty. There were no soldiers joking around while waiting to spar, or taking part in shooting competitions, shouting aloud when they hit he bulls-eye. Instead there were only a few people around, mainly on their own practicing their shooting or riding. Obviously news of Quade’s death had spread quickly. When he mounted his horse, Jovan felt immediately in control he cantered round the training area, attacking imaginary opponents. After a while he got out a practice dummy. Taking a deep breath, he charged at the target, swinging his sword above his head, and then chopping down hard as he rode past. He was rewarded by an explosion of dust and the feathers that had been used to stuff the dummy leaked out of a gaping hole in its head. After a little longer Jovan left, feeling quite pleased. But he could not stay pleased, as on the edge of his mind was the terrible truth of Quade’s death. This was made even worse when he found a note pinned to his door. It read: Dear Jovan You are hereby invited to the funeral of Quade, which will take place in two hours, in the canter of the city. Please dress appropriately. Yours sincerely Sir Alban This short and simple note made him feel as though a ice cold knife had been thrust through his heart, pushing all the breath from his body. He drew a deep breath, and checked the time the note had been sent. It had been sent an hour and three quarters ago! Quickly he ran into his room, and tidied himself up. Then, he dressed in his full armour, and wore a simple black cloak over the top of it. He left his helmet off; preferring to pull the hood on is cloak up to cover his eyes. Once he had done this, he hurried to the place that the funeral was taking place. He sighed in relief when he got there. No-one was seated yet, he was on time. Quickly he found a sat near the front, and looked around him. Everyone was dressed in black, the women wearing silk veils that covered their faces. Black pieces of cloth adorned everything, including the funeral pyre. Once he had finished looking around, Jovan realized that Korbin had sat down beside him. Jovan did not say anything and neither did Korbin. They sat together in respectful silence, waiting for the funeral to begin. Once everyone was seated it started. Jovan did not listen and only paid attention when Quade was brought forward. In his coffin he was placed onto a raised platform on the pyre. Then, soldiers from the army stepped forward. However, Bonaventure and Korbin stood, signaling the men to stop. They stood there, and then drew bows and arrows. They lit the arrows, and fired them into the centre of the pyre. The fuel drenched wood caught light immediately, sending columns of smoke high into the air. The flames snatched eagerly at the wood, soon enveloping the entire structure. The coffin burned away, and one last time all assembled saw Quade’s face, as it slowly burnt away to ash, When the funeral was finished, everyone left quickly. Very few aggrieved faces seemed to be in the crowd. Jovan saw this, and concluded that Quade was not well known, and therefore few truly mourned his death. Jovan was about to follow suit and leave, but Korbin beckoned him over. As Jovan walked over, Korbin began to speak ‘That was one of our people. One of us. Now you see before you the danger you will face if you become a warrior. Are you able to do this? Will you continue your training?’ As Korbin’s unwavering gaze bore into Jovan, he thought about what options he had. He could leave the discipline of the warriors behind, and go back to his former life. Or he could continue his training, therefore accepting the risks he would undoubtedly face. He looked straight back at Korbin, and said: ‘I will continue’ After he had said this, Korbin nodded briskly. Then, after handing Jovan a scroll, he walked away.
[[That is the last complete chapter. will post the next when done. may be posted slightly slower from now on, depends how quick I type]] | ||||
the big writing is weirds parts of it that refuse to go small. | ||||
Chapter 5 was weird and didn't really grab my attention, but this next chapter made up for it. | ||||
i know. bear in mind this is only the first draft, I will do a fair amount of editing once it is all done. | ||||
You could of used Microsoft Word... | ||||
vengence you need to re-vamp battle and intilect!! hurry so i can rape all the cows!!! | ||||
that wont say. 'this is how to make your story better!' will it? I do use microsoft word. i meant that I will edit different parts of the story, add more and take away some I dont like. microsoft word will not help me do that | ||||
Romus, what the heck is wrong with you? | ||||
Chapter Seven: A Warriors power Jovan walked to his room quickly, and read through the scroll. I told him to be in Korbin’s quarters in three hours time. It also said to read the second scroll, which had been coiled up inside the first, before coming. Sitting down, Jovan opened the scroll and began to read. As he did so, he noticed that the scroll looked very old. . RESTRICTED ACCESS: ONLY VIEW WITH THE KINGS PERMISSION The warriors The Warriors are not a well known people. They are an order of men and women, dedicated to fighting for the good of the Amastaities. They are selected by the warriors and the warriors only, for they are the only ones who can tell if another has the power of the warriors. At this point Jovan stopped, surprised. Sir Alban had selected him. Obviously there was more to him than Jovan first though Once selected a warrior will go through the training of a normal soldier. Then, once they have gathered enough skill in combat, their true power will be revealed to them. This power is not magic in any shape or form. It is a power that resides in all of us, but very few know of it. Even fewer possess the ability to harness this power. But that is what the warriors can do The first warrior found his power by means that none know of. But one day he emerged, wielding this power, and showing all this power he possessed. It was not seen as any particular power to start, but soon it was recognized for what it was The power itself is this: it elevates your physical strength, it boosts your intelligence, and your senses are made more acute. You can jump great heights, clearing obstacles that would otherwise slow you down. You also gain great speed, your reflexes becoming very sharp. However, this power is hard to use for long spaces of time. So that is why water steel was made. Water steel had the ability to harness this power. The power wielder in question draws upon his power, holding the swords grip as he/she did so. Once this was done, whenever he/she holds the sword these abilities are put into use. This is very effective, as the power does not go after a short period of time, as it does if it is used without being put into water steel. The name is ironic to say the least, as when the power goes into the metal it looks like fire. As the ages go on fewer and fewer people fit to become a warrior are alive. They become scarcer, only a few at a time having the power. To start about twenty at a time had the power. They would be divided into units of five, and elite squadron, and the rest being equal in power. But slowly less and less of them are to be found, and it is unusual to get even five. The power will soon fade out entirely. Those who have this gift must use it wisely. It is a great gift, and as such should not be mistreated. Signed Aileron After finishing reading, Jovan sat back, thinking. It was an interesting revelation. He looked at the top of the page, and saw the note saying restricted again. He wondered why, and eventually came to a conclusion. Maybe it is because the warriors are so rare. If they were widely known, some would seek them out, and try to recruit them. Wars could be started over them. Realizing this, Jovan felt a renewed weight of responsibility. People would depend on him, look to him for guidance. For a moment, panic threatened to engulf him, but he kept it at bay. Relax. He thought no-one will depend on me for years, and by that time I will be more than ready. At least, I hope I will be. After that, he started to make his way to Korbin’s quarters. It was another hour before he was required, but he would stop off at the kitchens on the way past, as he had planned on earlier. Quickly he headed to the kitchens. As he went he slowly got faster, as the delicious smells of cooking wafted towards him. Smiling, he put on a burst of speed, and reached the kitchens within a minute. He got some food and sat down to eat contentedly. ********** Alban walked along to the council meeting. He had called it on short notice, following some news a scout had given him. Once he arrived, he quickly checked his notes, and went to the front. Once everyone had arrived and was seated, Alban took a deep breath, and began to speak. ‘As you will know, increasingly we have had reports of groups of soldiers to the eastern borders. They are becoming greater in number, and they are joining together to form an army. Numbers are said to be roughly two thousand at present, a fraction of the number of troops we have. But we do not know how many more troops will come. I have gathered you here so that you may ask any questions, and of course, give your views on the matter. Thank you’ Alban stood there, waiting for the first question. A short, wizened man was the first to raise his hand. Alban nodded in consent for him to speak. Standing, he began. ‘I assume that eastern border is still being patrolled? It is just that you seem to have been sending a lot more scouts west, and I was wondering if you are depleting the east side’s scouts to do so’ he said. After finishing he sat once more, and looked up expectantly at Alban. ‘We are still sending out scouts to the west. Less than usual maybe, but still sending them,’ Alban said, and then looked around for other questions. But the same man had raised his hand again. ‘So that means that you are using eastern scouts to the west? If so then I believe you should begin to send more scouts east again. We are not without enemies in that direction’ he said, looking round at the other council members for support. Most nodded, only a few staying motionless. Alban was not pleased with the line of questioning. He was there to consider the threat to the west, not to get ideas about reinforcing the east side’s scouts. He smiled at the man, trying to pull it off without the smile giving way to a grimace. Still smiling, he replied; ‘I am aware of our easterly enemies. I have not depleted the east side’s scouts, or the defenses for that matter, in a way which will make us vulnerable to attack. It is unlikely we would have war from the two sides anyway. Now, can we please go on to the more pressing issue of the armies that are amassing to the west….’ The rest of the meeting passed with different suggestions on the solution. Some suggested a treaty, if it was not too late after the way they treated the letter they had received, from hitting them now in the hope that they would take the warning and leave. In the end nothing was done to solve the issue, with the meeting declining into madness. Sighing, Alban left. His council was divided, and the rift didn’t seem to have been healed at all by that meeting. In fact, it had grown wider. ********** Jovan hurried along to see Korbin, clutching the scroll that he had been instructed to read. Once he got to Korbin’s door, he hesitated. Then, he reached up with one hand, and knocked. He was called to come in. Slowly, feeling slightly nervous, he opened the door and went in. | ||||
Damn it, My old pc has broken and ive lost about two thousand words of my story. thats what havent posted here, but it is about a quater of what ive done so far. damn | ||||
Chapter
eight: the elite army Sir Alban strode back and forth in front
of his army, resplendent in his armour. The fighting standard if the
amaesteities, A bear rearing up beside a blazing fire, was held high by the
standard bearer, who, unlike the other soldiers, wore only thin leather armour
and carried only a short sword, the blade honed to a sharp point. The rest of
the army stood still, occasionally one of them would pull their cloak more
tightly around them. Some wore no
cloaks over their steel armour, which glinted, reflecting the moonlight.
Archers readied their bows, cavalry drew swords and shields, steering their
horses with their knees. The infantry formed a shield wall, then the elite army
of the amaesteities set off into the night. Alban held back, watching as the
soldiers he had picked for their brilliant and fearless fighting in battle
moved out. He had decided that they would stage a nighttime attack on the
people who had arrived next to their camp. Out of the shadows, a figure rode up
to Alban. It was Bonaventure, his glowing sword hidden beneath a thick cloak so
as not to give the army away. ‘How
many do we have?’ asked Bonaventure, as he looked at the advancing army. ‘Around
fifteen thousand’ replied Alban, not bothering to look at Bonaventure. With
that, he cantered off to join the army. Bonaventure followed suit. Soon they
caught up with the army. Alban rode to the head of the battalion he was
personally commanding, and Bonaventure went to find his. The plan was simple;
they would split, and surround the enemy camp. Then. They would slowly surge
towards the center, all the while attacking any enemy force that they may meet.
The plan was as good as any, and Alban was fairly confident it would succeed,
despite the ill luck that often plagued him. Tonight, hopefully, nothing would
go wrong.
******** Jovan
soon left Korbin’s quarters. The lesson had been postponed, as Alban was soon
to make his attack, and Jovan had not been able to concentrate, and that was
even before they had begun. He sat
back in his chair, trying to suppress the feelings inside of him. He had been
disappointed when he had heard that he would not join the elite strike force
that was to attempt to wipe out the opposition. But now that he had been left
alone, he was also frightened, frightened for the lives of the men marching to the
Amastaities defence. He knew that the victory of the elite army was inevitable
in the end, but to what cost would the victory come? Unable to sit still any
longer, he went to find his horse. He felt as of the nervousness inside him
would turn into out right panic if he didn’t do something.
********* A wing
of the army closed in, with Alban at its head. To the left, F wing, led by
lieutenant Blocken, did the same. They crept through the trees, keeping low so
that they hid their bodies in the long grass. They made little sound, as they
were all trained to make no noise, and all metallic parts of the kit they wore
was covered in black cloth, to muffle the noise they made and to hide the glint
they gave off. The army was arranged so that the strongest was with the
weakest, A wing, the elite of the elites, was with F wing, the weakest of the
elite. The same pattern followed throughout the ring of men encircling the camp.
The order was given, and they men began to move forward. Once the last of the
protection given to them by the surrounding area was gone, they leapt up and
reformed a shield wall. Then the cavalry followed them in, staying behind the
infantry. All across the ring of soldiers, the same thing was happening. C and D wing were the first to
encounter problems. Together they drove forward, meeting the resistance that
came their way, cutting down enemy soldiers through gaps in the shield wall. A
small detachment of cavalry came through a gap that was made on purpose through
the infantry wall, and then they proceeded to sweep through the enemy camp.
There was no one there. Alban spun round, fearing a trap. He wasn’t
disappointed. With wild war cries, five thousand
enemy soldiers who had now encircled Alban and his troops came rushing forward.
Then another five thousand. And another. Alban cursed under his breath. Fifteen
thousand men now surrounded his army. The same numbers of troops were on both sides,
but the troops that now surrounded the elite of the Amastaities had the
advantage, as they had Alban and his men trapped. Both sides rushed forward
towards each other, Alban called for a shield wall to be made, and the
Amastaities punched a hole in the side of their opponents. The shields
unlocked, and then they threw the spears that they had been sliding through
gaps in the shield wall, and drew their glinting swords, each one honed to a
razor sharp edge, perfectly balanced, the blade and hilt weighing exactly the
same amount. The chain mail they wore deflecting any glancing blows made, but
it could not stop a direct hit. Men from both sides soon fell, and those who
tripped over the bodies of the fallen were trampled underfoot. Both sides took
heavy losses, neither willing to give an inch. The battle continued, and soon
it was only five thousand men or so left on each side. The last men of the
Amastaities locked their shields together, forming an impregnable wall of
metal. The at the back of the ranks drew bows, and rained down arrows on the
enemy, shooting them high into the night air, letting them fall down in an
almost vertical drop onto the ranks of soldiers that were opposing them. They
soon adapted, holding their shields over their heads, but a large amount of the
men had been killed before the arrows stopped slicing through their ranks. Alban ordered them to unlock the shield
wall, as he had other ideas. They all raised their swords, and also drew the
small dagger that was a part of every soldier’s kit. This time no retreat would
be made, if they didn’t manage it this time then that was it, they had lost.
The elite army, their armour glinting in the moonlight, faces et in grim
determination, marched forward. Once they were within tem meters of the men who
had come to destroy their lands, they ran forward, their boots sinking into the
soft ground they stood on, making dull thuds whenever they stepped forward.
Once they reached their opponents, their swords became blurs of light, dancing
through the air, destroying any resistance that was put before them. Alban
joined the melee, attacking with a controlled fury that none could stand before
and live. Away to his left, Bonaventure also fought with superb discipline,
brining down many men, his sword glowing, casting a light upon the faces of the
men nearby. Soon the battle was all but one, the enemy force was down to a mere
three hundred, while one thousand Amastaities still stood. The reaming enemy
soldiers still fought bravely, though all hope was lost; they fought for the
honor of their nation. The Elite progressed slowly, cutting down enemy after
enemy, moving their sword through the same motions over and over again. The last man left was encircled, and Alban
stepped forward. They began to fight both swords flying
through the air. The sound of metal on metal rose from the clearing, as they
seemingly danced round the clearing, raining down blows on one another. Finally
Alban got through his opponents defence, catching his shoulder. His sword bit
in deep, and the man dropped his sword. Alban stood over him for a moment, then
swung his sword down towards the man. Victory was his. Alban
removed his helmet, and looked around. He would not forget this night for as
long as he loved, and the memory would haunt his dreams for many months. They
had won, but at a terrible cost. Many brave men had lost their lives. Without a
word, Alban began to walk back to the city. Halfway there his horse came up to
him, and nuzzled his shoulder. Alban mounted, and continued on his way,
preparing himself to deliver the devastating news.
*********** there we go, been quite a while since I last posted | ||||
:O | ||||
ok, next chapter...... Chapter nine: worrying times Jovan ran quickly, getting his horse from the stables before heading for the main gates, he trotted through the city, impatient to get to the army. He would have been moving at greater speed, but on the uneven ground that lined the streets it was too risky, as his horse could easily stumble, and he thrown off. He had no wish to experience that again. In answer to all the questions, Alban said one sentence. He didn’t have the energy to say more. ‘We won the battle, but were ambushed, and lost great numbers of men.’ Jovan nodded. Well, at least the threat had been destroyed. But it was a terrible cost, and many new widows would roam the streets of the city. Jovan now saw why he had not been allowed to participate, although even so, surely such a thing as this had not been anticipated? Pushing these things to the back of his mind, he dismounted his horse and offered it to Bonaventure. He nodded in thanks, and mounted. They continued on their way towards the city, Jovan now walking beside the mounted figures of Alban and Bonaventure. When they reached the gates, an escort greeted them, and soon Alban and Bonaventure were heading towards Alban’s workplace and living quarters, trotting along with Jovan running beside them. Many faces looked out of house windows as they passed, looking hopefully at them, smiling when they saw who it was. Most amongst them smiled, but the few people who studied Alban and Bonaventure’s expressions carefully saw that they had arrived back with sorrow in their hearts. When they finally reached Alban’s study, they found it had been prepared for their arrival, the lamps of the walls were lit, and a fire burnt steadily in the hearth. On The desk sat a letter. The muscles in Alban’s stomach tightened as he saw that it had the same writing on it as the person who had sent him the letter demanding alliance with him. He reached it, and picked it up gingerly. His hands trembled slightly as he slit open the envelope, unfolded the envelope and began to read. To Sir Alban I am displeased to find that, after the plentiful amount of time I allowed for reply, you have not answered my message. That being the case, I may decide to take offensive action against you. Yours truly, Cassius
Alban stared at the letter, re-reading and re-reading it over and over again. Bonaventure and Jovan stood silently, waiting for Alban to speak. But he did not speak, simply stood there. Then, he wrote down something on a piece of paper, then left, thrusting it into Jovan’s hands as he did so. Never had Jovan seen him so upset. Feeling slightly nervous, he looked down at the paper. He immediately felt both relieved and disappointed. It had been folded over, and had the name Korbin written on what was visible. Clearly Jovan was meant to deliver this message to him. He glanced over at Bonaventure, who nodded, showing that he knew Jovan had to go. Jovan left, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of the room. He wanted to know what was on this piece of paper as soon as he could, if possible, and his best chance was to give it to the man who it was addressed to. *************** Away far to the southeast, Cassius stood unmoving in the highest reaches of the castle rooms he inhabited, staring out over the city that was before his eyes. He knew that soon the messenger that had been sent out would return. He had told him not to hang around, as last time, for a reply, and to come straight back. He knew this meant that even if the enemy wanted to contact him, they couldn’t. but that was what he wanted. In the culture of his nation, it was tradition to ask the enemy for an alliance before attacking them. It was one of the many unwritten laws of the nation. But Cassius had wanted war, so he had sent out the message, but had not let the enemy reply. Simple. He got his war, and his people were happy. As he watched, the army he was amassing was marching into the center of his vision. It was not yet complete, but as he watched thirty thousand men appeared, all standing to attention. Once the army was complete, it would total fifty thousand men. He did not know what force was against him, but he knew that they would not stand a chance against his mass ranks. Plus he knew not that the army he had sent to test the powers against them had smashed the ranks of his enemy. The fact that he had sent it before warning the enemy of the war meant nothing to him, and he made sure anyone who complained was silenced. Permanently. Once satisfied, Cassius dismissed the army. He smiled slightly. Everything was going to plan. *********** Alban’s feelings were running rampant inside of him as he stormed along, heading to his private chambers. Once there he went inside, locked the door, and then collapsed in the armchair beside the fireplace in his room. He was angry with himself for not checking to see the intentions of the army before him, upset because many men had lost their lives, and now an even greater force was marching against him, worried because he was afraid of letting his people down. All these things melted down together into what was fast becoming outright panic. He forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths, reminding himself that this was far from over. It had hardly even started. Once he had regained control of himself, he began to plot. This was going to take some pretty spectacular strategies.
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wow, that went really weird....... | ||||
erm... | ||||
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