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| Author | The Book of Nargal |
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Hey all, this is my new saga, the book of Nargal. Comment if you wish. Hope you enjoy!
(There's another, locked topic with the beggining of this; Don't look at it, I had a little problem...
Episode I: The Necromancer's wrath
It was always quiet in the undead lands. Not a sound, not a living thing. From time to time, a band of skeletons or zombies were spotted strolling about. At night, an occasional ghost haunted its surroundings. The other, stronger undead—vampires, liches, death envoys—were extremely rare and lurked in forsaken dungeons. As for the necromancers, half living, half dead, they remained in their gigantic castles, hidden from any curious eye. However, today was a different day. A gloomy figure strode angrily on the barren soil. It was a necromancer, cloaked from foot to hair, scythe in hand, with skin as cold as death. He ventured out of his dwelling after years of hiding. He needed to cool his anger after what had happened: The Meeting of the Three Skulls. This reunion, much like the Council of the Wise for wizards, took place every thirteen years and assembled each necromancer, far and near. Normally, Azgel’Nad would keep silent while the elders blabbered about futile matters...Only this time, he had become famous throughout his brothers, but in the bad way, or so he believed. His revolutionary, violent ideas had shocked most of his listeners. “The living are weak!” he had said, “Wizards, humans, elves, barbarians...The war of the races has ruined their strength. Let us seize this opportunity. We must crush them, in the name of our association!”
“You are young and impulsive,” they said.
“My brethren,” he cried, “ Do you wish to stay outcasts?”
Still they rebuked them. They weren’t afraid—they were taught to forget fear—but their defeat at the battle of the Blooming Glade had annihilated their will to serve Death. Azgel’Nad bent down and felt the ground. It was humid, so wet that he could grasp it and squeeze it in his hand. His thoughts were confirmed: he approached human territory.
*Damn them!* he thought, *Damn these fools! I shall perform my duty without their help. The dead will wash away their humiliation, with I at their head. From now on, the living shan’t have but an instant of pace.*
With rage he plunged his scythe in the earth. He would be alone, bitterly alone in this campaign of revenge. But after all, why not? | | Nice man I mean really good propably my 2nd favorite story | (thanks )
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« Let us drink to peace and prosperity in this realm !” said a barbarian cheerfully as he rose his cup of wine.
The twenty-five guests sat at the large, round table. There was much laughing and bantering, with the mesmerizing bird song above them. After all the blood that had been shed, they could allow themselves to do so. The elven wood was beautiful and serene, as always. Wizards, barbarians, elves and humans ate and joked together. Of course, after what had occured, there was not much reminiscing...
“Ilzrael, old pal,” grinned a knight with a light shirt and curly black hair, “You don’t mean that you’ve found the way to make a goblin repellent!”
“Indeed,” chortled the aged elf with a dark green cloak next to him, “It’s quite simple, in fact. A simple concoction of various herbs I findin the forest.”
“Well, you’ll have to teach me some day. These little, green pests keep showing up near my home.”
“Whenever you wish. I’m also working on more serious things...you know, runecrafting and all...”
“Runecrafting?” he exclaimed, “Wow. If it wasn’t for your pointy ears, I’d think you were a wizard.”
Speaking of which, a young, wizard woman sitting near the elf gazed at the human with a timid grin. She was garbed in the embroidered tunic most of her kind wear, and her staff lay at her side. The knight took no notice. Ilrael was one of his rare friends, as his conceited, antisocial attitude did not leave him without foes, and he hadn’t seen him for a while, since the human authorities forbid it during the war. Now that the elves and the barbarians had made peace with the humans and wizards, he could at last talk to his friend. If only the humans hadn’t decided to cut down part of the elven woods...none of this would have happened.
“By the way, Ilrael,” he began, “Did you know that...”
“Knight Odin,” rang a voice.
All conversations stopped. A human messenger on a horse had arrived, bearing the royal emblem on his armor.
“Knight Odin,” he spoke, “The King has demanded your services.”
“The king! How goes the old fellow!” chuckled the knight with a sarcastic tone, and then, to Ilrael, “An old friend of mine.”
“Stay on your guards, Odin,” snapped the messenger, “You may be an excellent element, but the monarch still holds his grudge against you. There is a large cluster army of dark elf rogues at Yellow Lake. His majesty counts on you to eliminate that menace.”
Most humans at the table snickered with disdain. The war had just ended and obviously, the king had chosen his ‘favorite’ to do the dirty job while he was pleasantly enjoying himself in elvish land. Odin heaved a huge sigh.
“Fine, I’ll get rid of your rogues,” he muttered, as if he had the choice, “When you return to the Great Capital, please transmit my good feelings to the man that sent you. Farewell, everybody.”
With extreme lassitude he got up, gulped down his wine and paced away towards his steed. | | that is really good. i really liked reading it. you should write more of it. | The human army settled in a vast plain. The soldiers immediately pulled out their game cards, sat in circles, and played a simplified version of ‘Two Towers’. Dusk was falling. Odin dismounted and sat as well, chewing on a piece of grass. His bored expression didn’t suggest that he was about to battle rogues. After what he’d been through, probably one of the bloodiest wars the world had ever known, the cunning dark elves weren’t going to destabilize him.
“Army at approach!” bawled an archer.
Odin and his warriors got up at once. The soldier was right; a small army was drawing near. Only they weren’t rogues. As they were at no more than a hundred feet away, the knight distinguished gremlins and gargoyles. At their lead was a rider hoisting a white flag. The army halted and the rider cantered up to Odin.
“Greetings, Knight Odin,” said a light, female voice.
The human squinted and stared at her thoughtfully. He suddenly recognized the young wizard back at the banquet. “Good evening, lady,” he spoke uneasily as he always did in front of women, “What bring you here?”
She handed out a scroll that he took and opened. It read:
In the name of the wizard association and the Council of the Wise, with the approval of the King, the wizard Antarea has permission to accompany the Knight Odin in warfare at Yellow Lake.
Barold, sage and leader of all wizards
Near the signature was the king’s seal. Odin grimaced just at the sight of it.
“Very well,” he spoke, with that uneasiness that he always showed when talking to young women “My scouts have just left and will soon give us the rogues’ position. Tell me, is this your fist battle?”
“Well…yes,” she admitted uneasily, “But I’ve been practicing combat skills since…”
“Fine.”
He looked away and noticed a few horsemen approaching at full speed. He grinned.
“Well,” he chuckled, “You’ll soon be able to test your combat skills, Antarea.” | More, MORE!
really good, well done |
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