Subject:  Ive got a story, do u wanna read it! |
Author:
LOTRs freak fan
[ Edit | View ]
|
Date Posted: 11:43:06 02/09/03 Sun
Ive been writing this story its a fantasy battle story inspired by the likes of Tolkien and Terry Brooks. I have pictiI will tell you a tale set in the land of old, as when it was newly formed.
In the far northeastern corner lies the Kingdom of Traith now peaceful, but once it was split by the petty wars between the Druid and Wiccan people. The Wiccan tribes based their beliefs on Paganism, pray to the Sun god, Moon goddess and the spirit of the earth. They believed in harnessing natures power for their own devices. They were basically human, not having any special qualities such as the long life of the Druids, who live an average lifetime of 700 years. The Druids, however, did not pray to the gods as the Wiccans did. They believed in no such thing, thinking that the earth had occurred as trick of nature. They preferred scientific reasoning, and closely studied the art of alchemy and magic. This difference in beliefs led to huge battles between the people, each convinced that their own power was the greater. However when Narfaril, joined by creatures from the netherworld unleashed its rage against the free peoples, the two clans joined forces. Coming quickly to the aid of the Elves, who were already engaged in combat with the evil sorcerers’ armies. The Druids/Wiccan became invincible, biding the elven armies retreat and let them stand alone. The Elves complied, unwillingly they stood back, allowing the two tribes to take the brunt of the attack. They watched the two orders stand side by side at the border of the free land. As the Elves clasped hands in fear this was the end, something amazing happened. Channelling through their protectors was a force no being could contend with, and the threat of Narfaril was thrown back.
As the Elves rejoiced they noticed that the Druid and the Wiccan now faced each other stonily. All was silent. The Elves gazed upon the sight uneasily, fearing new conflict, but it seemed a mutual agreement had been reached. Brehaima; son of the Druid leader, bloodstained and battle worn stepped forward. Then Maykindré fairest daughter of the Wiccan royal’s stepped forth to clasp his hand. And so they wed, signifying a unity between the races that would last forever more. Soon Maykindré bore Brehaima a child; Menith, from whom Maya is a direct descendant.
Since then the Kingdom of Traith and all its people Druid and Wiccan alike have had peace, living in their impressive home of Sincrain. A huge impenetrable fortress, guarded by magic. No enemy could ever hope to enter it, unless they came as a prisoner. Sincrain consists of six forms. One central pinnacle surrounded by five other spires. At the heart of the pentagram of buildings is the Sincrain Centrum. This is where the followers of Maya live. Come and you will see that encased within the stone pillar is a huge cityscape that rises to the height of the tower covering the inner walls like a giant ant farm churning with activity. I understand that it might be daunting for you, what with it being so unfamiliar. Still you only have to ask someone for assistance the people of Sincrain are extremely helpful, a friendly, trustworthy race. Even so, stay close. Don't let this intimidating spectacle lead you to think that Sincrain is a place of chaos. On the contrary it is quite the opposite; the running of the city is well organized. The order of the city is and never has been broken. This is due to the leadership skills of Kelfar, a man of grand stature and strong will and who prides himself on being precise in all matters. He is another of Maya’s closest companions and rules Sincrain in her absence but even when she is present she chooses to leave the running of the city in his capable hands.
There is the Crainer base, which is controlled by Kelfar. He is the head of all military action; he has a wide knowledge of Elven, Wiccan and Druid politics. He is at least 270 summers old but this is merely a slice of his life span as he is a direct descendant of the druids. While he has little magical skill he was still granted the long life of his kind.
The Benneth spire is full of religious and archaeological artefacts. The catacombs within it are known well by very few, but with the aid of her magic Maya set up a guide system so as to make it easily accessible for all. Anyone may enter here whereas access to the Crainier base was only granted to few.
The spire of Teatrayan contains the realm of healing. Here practical skills are used along side magic to bring good health to all. This tower is under the control of Iri-shana. Who using the Wiccan skill and the ancient art of alchemy can cure any ailment but death. Unfortunately she has never been able to discover the Elixir of life though she has dedicated much of her lifes work to the cause.
The Elemental base is where the art of magic is learned. However it is also a place for quiet thought and the contemplation of life mysteries. It is said that if someone has a question they should go to the Elemental spire so that the gods may send them an answer. Maya is normally in command here as she has the greatest hold over magic than anyone else in Traith. However when she is called away by other duties her close companion Garneth will take over. If you were to meet Garneth you would like him immediately, he is Maya’s lifelong companion and they spent much of their childhood together. He is tall, proud and noble, and has a mighty presence. Brave and resourceful he would die for Maya, that childhood bond being one of more than just friendship. As close as kin nothing would ever come between them, on that he is resolute. We have no time to inquire on his whereabouts, you will come across him later. We must continue on our way at once.
Now to The Granary. This is where the fortress’ entire supply of food is stored after it has been harvested from the lush farmlands that lie behind the vast citadel. It is regularly checked by Grenhanva; Sincrains’ most accomplished chef, he would prepare all the food that was needed. Even the elves spoke highly of his talent, which is most uncommon as the elves normally dislike eating food that was not prepared by their own kind. As much as I would like to we cannot stay to sample the delights of his kitchen. Even though they drift enticingly to where we stand.
Just south of Sincrain is the hallowed site of the old druid sanctuary. No building remains but the ground is seeped with infinite power; here is where all the lines of the land meet at a single point. The druid temple would act as a gateway for the magic, it could be released through them but now it was locked deep within the land and no human could access it. No one knows what happened to the druid temple, one day it was no longer there, it had just ceased to exist and the Druids had left. All that remains on the revered land is a Hazel tree. Which the Druids believe as sacred. Old wives tales say the refuge is still there just hidden from prying eyes till one may come who remembers the secrets of old and can open the portal that has remained locked for centuries. All that anyone knows for certain is that the Forgotten Isle just north of Traith is where the Druids now rest. No mortal has ever dared to wander close to it as the isle is haunted by the shades if the druids. Silently they wander in an endless patrol of their borders. In the late evening the luminous forms of the once powerful leaders can be seen clearly against the night sky.
Now we will move deeper into the south, our pace leisurely as we stroll across clear grasslands and sandy plains to the wooded home of the elves-Parvorten. Weaving our way through the trees, our bodies bathed in a fresh green glow. The indescribable aura of the elven haven fills you with the joy of every living thing. Even now you can feel it enveloping your being, every nerve tingling with a different sensation. As we move inward we discover that enclosed deep within the vale of the elves rests the pool of wisdom. Step closer, so that you might gaze into the immeasurable depths. No one knows how deep it is, and it’s said that the depth increases as time goes on. It is filled with the knowledge of all the races, yet it only reveals small pieces of it in conjunction with the character of the drinker. You must not try to drink from it, mere mortals such as ourselves would not be able to comprehend what it would reveal. That amount of knowledge would cause you to lose your mind. It is sacred to the elves and they only allow those of their own kind to drink of it and only then with good reason. You need the elven Kings permission even to just venture close to the gardens at its borders. The King of the elves is Huithwainlark. The greatest of Elf kings since the passing of Varnhawk; a great warrior king of the first war. A tradition among elves is that in the naming of the offspring they incorporate the name of the first bird that crosses their path as you tell from the name Huithwainlark. The bond between these races is a close one, and has been since the time of the old war. All the elves have free passage through Sincrain and vice versa we would not want to jeopardise that close friendship by betraying their trust. Come now and follow me once more.
If we were to scurry to the west; like insignificant insects in the scheme of things, across the barren wasteland left by the first war we would see just how significant the war was to the shaping of the land. Embedded in the plains is the hatred of thousands upon thousands of warriors, vicious scars rent the terrain where the Dwarven mountains of old once stood, and the tortured souls of the dead roam the land on which their blood was stained. Swiftly we move glancing uneasily at the ground below this is somewhere we shall not spend much time. Not if we want to leave with our sanity in tact, the sounds of the dead can drive a mortal insane.
As we creep round the coastline and make our way to the land of Narfaril a steady feeling of unease creeps into our hearts, like a clawed hand reaching deep inside and slowly grasping the still flexing pump and crushing it, gloating and savoring the taste of our mounting anxiety. An overwhelming primeval fear that makes you freeze when all you want to do is run screaming. This is because we are nearing the Forbidden burial ground of Khazmarken. An ancient evil of the first war lays hidden in the deep where no intelligent mortal will pass. While its physical existence has rotted, its malignant spirit resides and preys on unwary beings that venture near, so that it might some day recover its lost strength and return from the abyss to wreak havoc once more. It is more powerful and evil than any Skullnarchs or Havocians you would ever meet. We cannot tarry here any longer otherwise we will become its next meal.
Quickly, we must rush for now we are within enemy lines, and I sense that Skullnarchs and Havocians are close perhaps preparing to sweep down upon us. Hurry past the hidden shore and the Kolorian cove as we head to the core of Narfaril from where the threat of war radiates from, where a malice; so hard, so unnerving and unswaying in it determination to enslave all those who live freely, abides in its putrid lair. Plotting and scheming until it decides to unleash its might. That time has come, now I may begin.
Chapter One
"Darkness calls you forth, come, pass from the light and enter our realm. Here, shadow hides all wounds, now swear, swear by the blood on thy sword."
"I swear."
"What do you swear"?
"I swear to reject the light, embrace the darkness and obey only the true master."
"Who might that be?"
"You my Lord."
"Hmph. Good, now you may enter."
* * * * * * * * *
Winds whipped round the cliff top, ravaging the grass-covered landscape and chafing the once soft skin on her face. A face bearing an expression of anger. With the slightest hint of a tear running down between the lines that both age and care had worn there. The face had once only had time to smile but much had changed since then, since the line of her family ran true and since he had betrayed her. Suddenly she heard a noise behind her; she quickly turned to face her pursuer, blade drawn, but smiled softly when she saw only the face of Garneth.
"Maya we must return to Sincrain now. The onslaught from Narfaril is too much; the troops are retreating and few have returned. We have already lost many in the fray."
"Very well Garneth, I was on my way. Hail Sincrain, tell Kelfar how the battle fares. Ask him to contact Heniff at the Crainier base, and have them prepare ‘a room’ for our ‘guest’.
"Of course Maya, I will go at once."
"Can you also tell Ira the nature and number of the casualties, she will need to be well prepared."
"All is done."
"Well met Garneth, I will return shortly."
Slowly she turned back to face the sea once more. As she looked closer she could just make out the dark shape of a huge; skulking sea creature, with several smaller dart shaped beasts closing in behind it. She watched as the small darts cornered the creature against the cliff, she saw a flash of violet light. When the water cleared she saw the evil darts head back out to sea, dragging the carcass of the creature, its impressive long tendrils fanning out behind them. She sighed, her power was already stretched to its limit, she could not protect the worlds below the sea. Her battle was with the menace of the land; and right now she wasn’t faring well.
For twelve days her army had been defending the borders of Parvorten the home of the elves. Within the first four days it seemed victory was certain, Along with the elven infantry Mayas’ horse archers had managed to beat back the threat of Narfaril who quickly drew back in surrender. However the revelries were cut short when, on the fifth day the opposition returned with renewed force. Cloaked in mist they stole right up to the camp and pouncing on the unwary units. Quickly a counterattack was formed and again they drove the opposing army back relentlessly. Till the tenth day all was going well once again, but during the evening Nafaril launched an unexpected attack. Both Maya and the elven kings troops were caught off guard as they were exchanging the battle worn soldiers for fresh recruits. First liquid fire rained down torching the new food supplies, scattering anyone who stood near. The sudden onslaught scared the stallions; which bolted into the darkness. Between the tortured screams another sound could be heard, an evil rasping growl. Maya and Garneth cried out instructions as they prepared for a second wave of the attack. A monstrous black shape swooped down from the sky; illuminated by the flames devouring the supplies. They took stock of the huge grotesque form that threatened them and realised that the lock of the netherworld had been broken. Havocians and Skullnarchs were once again free to roam the earth as they had not done since the forming of the Final resolve, and were once again serving the dark powers.
She stood at the cliff edge a moment longer, musing over what the first battle had revealed. The terrifying faces of thousands of dwarves. Features contorted with an unquenchable wrath. Evil, embittered cries emitted from distorted maws. Dwarves, which were thought to be extinct were under the sway of the dark powers. But how? It was thought that all the dwarves were destroyed in the old war. Stubborn and resolute, they refused to partake in the wars between good and evil. When the dark armies engulfed the land, it was thought none had survived the assault. Now it seemed not only had they survived, they had joined with very power responsible for there near annihilation? Why? Dwarves may have not have joined in the fight against Narfaril, but they certainly did not concur with the sorcerer. The Dwarves aren’t evil. Weren’t; she corrected herself remorsefully. So many questions she sighed and as of yet, no answers.
She could still hear, echoing in her mind the surprised cries as the enemy sprung a raid on them. All the commotion as her army struggled to generate a counter attack. Realisation struck her; this was how the intruder breached the line of defence and entered the elven vale. How easy it must have been for him, everyone was too busy else where trying to save the food reserves and put out the fires. He must have slipped in between the break caused by the appearance of the Havocian and using the innate cunning given to his kind, skulked round the outskirts of the camp and then threaded his way through the trees to the centre of the elven home. This was when he slipped up; the pool of wisdom was too precious to the elves for them to leave it totally unprotected. As he went to take a drink from the magical lake the guards would have sprung on him. Well she would interrogate him and find out his purpose.
With that thought she tore her eyes from the sea and dived into the trees.
* * * * * * * * *
"Damn them" he cursed as he paced round his prison. His long claws scraping over the metal floor. The young elf set on guard glanced uneasily at him. He did not like the look of this creature; he had not seen one of this kind before. He was covered in a sickly green set of scales and possessed sly snake like features. At the ends of his ‘hands’ and ‘feet’ well, what must have been hands and feet; long grey claws protruded at awkward angles. The strange prisoner had his back to the guard so he would not see the sly smile that had spread across his face. His plan had succeeded, so far.
res 2 but they wont cum out on this, take a look tell me what you think!
Email me sumtime peeps!
| | Replies: | |
|
Feedback: 
please help me!!!
ELIJAH IS NOT GAY
Email address PLEASE!!
Please change these awful colours!