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| Author | The Alenia Scrolls |
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| This is my 1st story in the context of LordsWM so if it isn't good, don't be too harsh. There are knights, wizards and necromancers only.(Sorry other factions, may write about you guys later) An idea is derived from David Edding's Elenium trilogy, where magicians taught the knights magic (this will come in the story later). All in all, enjoy and don't flood it between the chapters, just post short comments:) Thanks and please enjoy the story from The Alenia Scrolls. | Chapter I
The last rays of the sun vanished over the horizon. In one of the many small villages of Alenia, a boy lay down on his bed. He had drifted off to sleep uneasily, wrapping a thin blanket around his small body, shielding himself from the harsh cold of winter. He was dreaming of the day spent, where he had been flaunting his accuracy with a sling. His father had rewarded him with a crude bow, for winning the prize, a small piece of land for farming. The moonlight was now waning and the dim pale light shining was glancing off the bright hammers of skeletons entering the village gate.
The first row of huts were massacred unsympathetically. Their dying screams had woken the whole village. The boy was shaken out of his bed. He fumbled around the dark in confusion, while his parents were packing their few belongings. They picked him up and fled for their lives.
Sade
The sound of steel clanging around awoke Sade from his warm bed. He ran to the armoury to see his father, Swen, wearing his guardian armour. He picked up his elaborately designed shield and kissed Sade and his wife. “The Mercenary Guild called. Apparently the undead are on a village again,” and ran out into the night. Sade and his mother went to see him off, seeing a company of bowmen and swordsmen awaiting his father to lead them. His father waved his shield and looked at his family, not knowing it would be the last time. “Let us go,” he commanded.
They were running in the dark when suddenly, his father stopped. And collapsed. A flow of crimson poured from his heart wound. A vampire clad in black had just stepped out and ended his father's life. His weeping mother picked him up and ran as fast as she could while his dead father bought time for them, with the vampire feeding on his blood.
Sade
He collapsed back into his bed, excited by the sight of so many soldiers going to rescue a village. He also wants to be a warrior like his father someday, an honourable knight and trusted guardian. He slept again thinking of glorious battles.
The silent footsteps of the vampire trailed them, slowly approaching its prey. His mother was gasping for breath, panic overwhelming her. The vampire caught up, unsheathed its sword with an unearthly noise and ran it through his mother. “Run!” she screamed after him while the vampire fed on her. He took his crude bow and ran off, not seeing where he was going, the tears and his parents' blood blinding his eyes. He sprinted harder when he heard the vampire following him again, but his legs were screaming for him to stop and his lungs were on fire. “There's a boy!” someone shouted.
“Vamp's mine,” a calm voice said. An arrow was mounted on a stock, a bow string was drawn.
“Hurry up... the boy's almost done for!” “Shut up, I need to aim to nail it in one shot” the calm voice said again. The boy was now running with only his survival instincts driving him, pushing him to safety.
“Die you bloodsucking leech,” the boy heard the 'twang' of a crossbow string releasing a bolt.
The vampire fell silently as death claimed it once again returning it to rest once more.
“It's okay now boy, what's your name?” the crossbowman asked him.
“Arrolt,” he gasped, then the world inverted on his feet.
Swen
This time was not the same. There was usually only one or two vampires in each attack, but this time, he had counted five already. The vampires were swift and impossibly strong. Also, after it killed, it would drain its victim of its blood and heal its wounds. “Sir, what now?” a bowman asked him.
Swen looked in front, seeing that they were still not in the undead's midst, shouted “Volley! The skeletons are packed tightly!”
“Aye sir!”
“Now!” Swen commanded. A shower of arrows flew overhead, scattering the skeletons and causing some to fall and be trampled into pieces. The swordsmen charged into the skeletons, shields rai | raised. The two lines, undead and living, collided, bone against metal. The weak skeletons could not stand the hard shields and broke apart. The rest of the skeletons fell under the force of the broadswords, their hammers causing only dents in the swordsmen's armour. Then, the zombies arrived, slower than the lighter skeletons.
“Targets!” Swen bellowed. The bowmen released, picking individual targets, but the zombies were relentless, moving onwards with arrows sticking out of them. The slower crossbowmen then shot. Although they were more effective in close range, the crossbow bolts were still faster and deadlier. Some of the zombies fell, but most continued, dauntless. “Charge!” Swen commanded. The swordsmen held their shield to the side this time, with their swords ready, to do more damage to the hardy zombies. The broadsword was longer, reaching the zombie before their short daggers could touch the swordmen's armour. They cut their way through the zombies, but the zombies were putting more of a fight, felling the soldiers with well-positioned daggers, shoving it into the barely protected neck, as it was there where the helmet connected with the breastplate.
At last, the zombies were defeated, exposing the vampires that were hidden in them. “Crap,” Swen said as he saw their numbers. There were at least twenty, and they had been hidden, fighting all along. “Retreat! Volley!” Swen bellowed. The swordsmen ran back to the support of arrows, but their heavy equipment kept them from sprinting. The agile vampires easily caught up. Adrenalin pumped in his veins and Swen was enraged as he watched his brave comrades dying right in front of him and the vampires feeding from their corpses. Swen had to control himself, knowing that no one would command his soldiers after he had entered battle. Barely a quarter of the original number of swordsmen made it back.
The archers were panicking, fumbling with their arrows as they hurriedly reloaded. The vampires were still feeding, not attacking yet. “Bowmen, release another volley and go back, ask for reinforcements!” he barked out. The bowmen notched their arrows, ready to start. “Crossbowmen, you know what you are good at. Do it. Run when I tell you to,” he ordered. “Swordsmen, those who cannot fight anymore, go back for reinforcements after this. Those who are still able to fight, follow me,” he instructed. The severely injured swordsmen started leaving . About eight men joined him, and all of their armour were seriously battered and damaged. Five of them looked so bad that they should have gone back and Swen would have ordered them back if not for the desperate situation.
The vampires were approaching. “We will most likely die swordsmen, we are here to protect the archers, you can run now if you want, I will not blame you,” Swen said. He turned and saw fear in their eyes. “We will not leave you, we stay with you till death,” the brave men answered. Swen smiled, then shouted “Volley!” The arrows rained on the vampires, but they did not heed them at all. “Crossbowmen, you know when best to start shooting. Stay calm, you will be safe with us handling them,” Swen assured, then mumbling “I hope”. The crossbowmen released their arrows when the vampires were about three paces away. “Loyalty! Charge!” Swen roared and went into battle. | Arrolt
He opened his eyes and found himself in the arms of a hooded man. “Aaaaa!” he cried out in shock. The man carrying him replied “Finally, you're awake, can you walk?
“I guess so,” then feeling around his body, asked anxiously, “Where is....”
“This bow?” the man took out Arrolt's cherished bow. “You were holding it tight against yourself.”
“Thanks,” Arrolt looked away, embarrassed.
Arrolt stared at the man in front of him. He was hooded in light turquoise and the rest of his attire was the same colour. There was a mace attached on his back, and a shiny reflection was from a silver crucifix he was carrying. He was certainly strong, as he was carrying Arrolt with just his arms and seem at ease, as if Arrolt was no more than a feather.
“Curious about who I am?” the man inquired.
Arrolt kept silent.
“We are the reinforcements that the bowmen sent. The inquisitors trained us for war ever since the undead problem got too serious. To be brief we are monks. This time, we came too late. Every brave men gave their lives for the surviving villagers,” the monk said plainly.
Arrolt was quiet.
“Quiet little chap aren't you?”
Sade
He woke up excited, wanting to listen to his father's battle. He ran down the stairs, and saw a couple of soldiers standing near his mother. She was crying, and the injured men were trying their best to comfort her. “Mom, where's Dad?” Sade asked.
“H-he's not... h-here,” was what Sade heard in between the sobs.
“That's fine, he can tell me what happened later he has rested.”
His mother wept harder.
The men all wore a pained look, exchanging looks uncomfortably. One of them was carrying a sack, walked forward and placed a hand on Sade's shoulder.
Sade looked up.
“Sade, I was in the battle yesterday. When we came back with reinforcements, it was too... late. It was a huge loss for us, your father was a great man,” the soldier turned his head away and covered his face. Sade opened the dropped sack, and saw his father's guardian armour, now stained with his dried blood.
The King
“Attacks,” the court scribe called after finishing the notes on agriculture.
“Your Majesty, three villages were attacked last night. Two of them were not serious, with the Lords hired by the Mercenary Guilds taking care of the situation. The third however, was serious. Sir Sade lost his entire contingent under his command. He himself perished valiantly, with the monks taking care of the situation,” the Defence Secretary reported.
The King fidgeted irritably for the rest of the daily reports. When it was over and all the others have left, Alaric turned to his uncle, and chief advisor with blazing eyes. “We need to do something about them soon. They took Swen!”
“What else can we do? Other than the Mercenary Guild, what else can we do?” his uncle asked.
“Something! Draw all the villagers into the city walls and have a final battle! Then we can....”
The Chief Advisor looked at his nephew and sighed. He was young, inexperienced and often let his emotions get to his head and go on and on like this. But this time was definitely worse. Swen had been a close friend of his and Swen was an admirable young man.
“....we can kill these undead once and for all! Right uncle?”
This was plain impossible and Alaric himself knew that. “We have a greater chance of succeeding if we call the wizards for help,” he mentioned sarcastically.
“You know uncle, that's the best idea I heard to deal with the undead since they started attacking us. No wonder father appointed you Chief Advisor.” Alaric reached for his griffon feather quill and began writing for an envoy to head south to Sarchelm, the land of the arcane arts as The Chief Advisor watched in horror. | | Link = http://bladeofhonour.ucoz.com/publ/the_alenia_scrolls_by_jemlowjw/1-1-0-4 | sry for the long lapse, was busy with clan story... read it at the blade of Honour if you want to. Now to continue the story...
(Could use some comments pm or post in forum) | Chapter II
Arrolt
It happened in the night. Half of the monks had went off to collect water from a river and some dry wood to build a fire. The vampires materialized from the shadows, and descended on them.
“Stay back, Arrolt, we'll deal with them,” the monk closest to him ordered.
Arrolt stepped back, wondering how were the monks going to fight the agile vampires. Their maces looked dangerous, but Arrolt had seen for himself how lethal the bloodsucking monsters were. The vampires honed in on them with inhuman speed, bloodlust in their eyes. Arrolt looked around and found that the monk's heads were bowed, their lips moving silently, praying.
As one, the monks lifted their heads and armed their maces, serene and relaxed. Arrolt was panicking and armed his bow, ready to shoot at the vampires if they got close.
“Relax Arrolt, we know what we're doing,” assured the monk who had carried him.
In the ethereal darkness, the crucifixes flashed with brilliant light. Each monk shone it into their maces, and shot the holy light into the vampires. The vampires screamed an unearthly noise, and collapsed.
“Don't relax yet! Some may still survive!” the chief monk shouted out.
The rest of the monk tightened their grip on their mace, ready to flash their deadly light into the vampires.
Half of the vampires rose, although they seemed less agile and swift.
“Fire!” The night lit up once again. This time, however, none of the vampires got up.
“See what I told you Arrolt? We're saf-What the...”the monk stared at the sickly pulsing green light which was growing steadily. Then, as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving with a cackling laughter that promised death. Arrolt looked around, nothing had changed, and the rest of the monks who were gathering supplies had came back.
Nothing had changed, except that the vampires were rising again. And they seemed to have brought more reinforcements. The monks all said something unfitting for their positions as members of the Church. | Sade
He stared blankly, and still could not accept the fact that his beloved father had died. A member of the court was coming today, and read out his father's will. Sade already knew that everything would be his, as he was the sole heir. His father's close friend, Galador, would be coming to take over the castle until Sade was of a proper age to inherit the castle.
He wandered back to his room and laid down. He had lost track of time, and the sun was making its journey down when Sade was called to go to the guest's room. He moved unwillingly, not wanting to be part of anything that acknowledged his father's death.
“Sade Hidle. Since you are not eighteen yet, the possesion of all your father's property will go to his appointed kinsman, Galador Thews..."
Sade stopped listening, as the court representative droned on and on about every item in the castle will be going to Sade when he was of age. His thoughts drifted back to his father, dead sa that he could live on.
"And so...", a strangled cry rose from the fourth floor. All of the men rushed up and Galador opened the door where the sound came from. There beside where Sade had left his father, was his mother, who now lay slumped on the floor, with Swen's sword in her.
"Oh not them both..", Sade turned to look at the grief stricken Galador, his dead beloved mother and fainted. | The King's courier
Rede rode the horse, exhausted by the ride from Alenia to Sarchelm. He would reach Sarchelm, the land of the arcane arts, tonight. He was not looking forward to meeting with the wizards, as Alenia and Sarchelm had never been friendly, at best only grudging allies. He sighed, looked up and admired the night sky in Sarchelm.
For the past two nights, there were a lot more stars in the night sky than compared to that of Alenia. Were the wizards so powerful that they could make more stars and beautify the night? Rade chuckled briefly at the thought and continued staring at the beautiful night sky.
Rede continued riding and passed a curious blue colored boulder. From then on, the stars rapidly increased in numbers and size. Rade urged his mount on, terrified by the strange happening. Then, the moon was blocked by a passing cloud and the stars ceased. Rede slowed, relieved, and promptly slammed into a wall of stone.
Two glimming empty eyes stared at him and he shouted. His horse panicked and slammed into the wall again. The knock sent him sprawling from the horse. Rede landed hard on his head and fell into darkness. | Arrolt
He had been impressed by the monks, and thought that maybe they had a chance against the undead invaders with these men. But now, the monks were all severely outnumbered, even with the full number back. The vampires ran again, and unsheathed their swords.
“Fire!” the lead monk shouted and the night flashed again and again with the incandescent glow. The holy light hit the approaching vampires hard, and many fell, but they were still severely outnumbered. “Arrolt,” the monk beside him called out.
He had been busy shooting the vampires and had downed quite a few even with the small bow. “Listen to me. We're going to win, but with heavy losses. More than half of us would perish. You go back to the city and enlist yourself as a bowman. They lack a lot of good archers like you. Now run!”
The vampires were close, and the moon light glanced off their sharp teeth, eager for blood. “Mace!” bellowed the lead monk. The first line of monks stopped shooting and held the mace hard, ready to crush a vampire's head with the solid mace. Arrolt notched his last arrow, ready to shoot.
“Arrolt! I said run!” the monk shouted again. Arrolt did not heed his advice, but stayed still, ready to kill. The vampires reached them. The monk buried their maces into the vampires with surprising force, and the first few vampires collapsed. Then, they came as a horde, and many broke the defensive melee front line, getting to the supporting shooters behind.
“Arrolt! Move!” the monk shouted as he killed a vampire. He swung to kill another that broke through and failed to notice another moving swiftly from the side. Arrolt aimed and fired into the vampire's eyes. It turned and switched its target. The monk turned around just in time to deliver a backhand swing and the vampire was thrown into a tree and laid, finally dead.
“Thanks Arrolt. You don't have any more arrows. You have to run!” Arrolt turned and ran, calling for help. He shouted with all the strength he had left, into the night. He bend down to catch his breath, panting heavily, when he heard a distant neighing. A loud trumpet sounded, and Arrolt saw a charging company of cavalry. They flew past Arrolt, who had hid behind a tree.
The trumpet call was getting louder and increasing in frequency. The horses were neighing loudly and the riders were all bellowing to warn people to clear away. The monks scattered, and the cavalry crashed into the unsuspecting vampires. Then they moved back in and slaughtered the vampires.
“Thanks,” said the lead monk.
“Thank the person who was shouting his lungs out for help. We thought some remote house was in trouble again,” replied the horseman.
Arrolt walked back to where the soldiers were. “So you were the one who saved our life eh?” said the lead monk.
“So since when did the Church Knights start helping us out? Weren't you guys supposed to protect the Church and the Archprelate?”
“As far as I know you monks are supposed to be fat and chanting your hearts out in a monastery.”
“True... so I take it that the King and Archprelate argued again over us?”
“Yep. You should have seen the Archprelate's face when right after he got the Church Knights from him, the King suggested that the clerics be used too.”All the monks laughed and with the extra escort of the cavalry, they headed to the city. |
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