Gods & Men: The Ancient Myths: Chapter 1 IC Thread

[Johnny Blaze]

For days, they had ridden eastward without even an encounter. Both the adventurers were beginning to become restless. On the eighth night, in the fields of Polska, Slieken looked to his friend and shrugged.

"Perhaps, you were right. This way has been boring."

Off in the distance, Slieken's ears picked up a noise. A drumbeat approaching from the south. The elf squinted in that direction and his eyes went wide with excitement.

"I opened my maw too soon, friend. Ready yourself for battle, because battle is marching this way."

"Battle", asked Rothgar as he tore a piece off of the rabbit they had caught earlier and ate it.
"How do you know there will..."

His words trailed off as the faint sound of war drums found it's way to Rothgar's ears.

He sat silently for a moment, his face still and blank as he listened to the beat of battle.
Then he took another big bite of his dinner, his face almost being engulfed by his wide grin.

"Hahahahahahaha! Praise be to Tyr! He has heard my prayer", exclaimed the Norseman as he looked up to the heavens and took a large gulp of the mead he had perchased in the last town the pair had visited.

Rothgar set the rabbit down on the log he was using as a seat and stood up, tightening his shoulder strap that held his mighty blade, Banahogg.

"It would seem your ears are as keen as your vision, my pointy-eared friend", chuckled Rothgar as the gleam of adventure found it's way to his eyes.

"Let us put the latter to use and you lead the way. Though the moon may be out, your elven eyes will see better in the dark than mine."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

Charaun walked through the still smoldering rubble that was once mighty Athens. The suns morning rays illuminating the disaster for all to see. Most of the buildings were gone, including major structures such as the Parthanon and the Athenian School of The Art. Around the lich were scores of bloated corpses, those who weren't able to escape his wrath.

Behind Charaun walked his general, the death knight Hilarion. His heavy boots crunching the stones beneath his feet loudly.

"It is a beautiful thing, is it not?"

"It is a masterpiece, my Lord", replied Hilarion as he moved through a pillar of smoke and ash.

"After all the years planning my vengeance against those that drove me out", speak the lich as he bends down and picks up the severed hand of a child.
Charaun gazes emotionlessly at the appendage, twirling it about in his hand before casually tossing it aside.
"To see it finally come to fruition is a satisfying thing."

A deep roar brought Charaun's and Hilarion's gaze upward to see a large red dragon soar overhead. Firastekles, a red wyrm from nearby Sparta, was given the duty of scouting the area and keeping curious souls away as Charaun surveyed the scene.

"When the world belongs to me, I shall make this my capital", states the lich as he looks around at the death surrounding him.

"But enough musing, I came hear for a reason."

Charaun's eyes began to glow with purple energy, and vapors of it began to whisp out of his empty eye-sockets. A loud thunder crack boomed as black clouds slowly began to materialize overhead, blotting out the sun.

The Crown of Horns, wresting comfortably on his forehead, began to pulsate with an eerie purple light. And soon Charaun's entire form radiated with that dark illumination.

Charaun spread his arms out wide, and a bolt of green lightning cut through the heavens. Evil energy pulsed from the lich, spreading out from his being and washing over the entire city.
For minutes this went on with Charaun remaining fixed like a statue. But soon a stiring to his left caught Hilarion's gaze. The death knight turned and saw the body of a small boy, his entire right side burnt and charred, slowly rise to his feet.
Behind him one of the city guards, mangled from the claws of a dragon, used his spear to help rise.

All around them, the dead of Athens slowly rose from their slumber. But no more life could be seen in them. There eyes were as black as coals, and they shambled about aimlessly.
Words were replaced with grunts and snarls as the animalistic shells began to get a feel for their surroundings.

Charaun cackled with delight as the scene unfolded before him.

"And now my damnation of this pathetic city is complete. May Orcus feast on their worthless souls for all eternity."

"Come", commanded Charaun to Hilarion.
"It is time we returned to the Rest. We have a war to prepare for."

"As you command, my Liege."

Charaun moved to stand next to Hilarion and placed a hand on his shoulder. Then his amulet around his kneck began to glow, and both he and Hilarion disappeared in a flash of light.

Firastekles roared once more as it passed over the city, it's undead inhabitants now infesting the entire area.
The drake had done it's job. It had kept watch over the area while the lich used it's magic. Now it was time to return home to Sparta and it's horde, which was now significantly larger.

The dark clouds still lingered though over the city that was once Athens. What was once the center of learning in the Mediterranean was now nothing more than a necropolis.

 

[Green Lantern]

"Battle", asked Rothgar as he tore a piece off of the rabbit they had caught earlier and ate it.
"How do you know there will..."

His words trailed off as the faint sound of war drums found it's way to Rothgar's ears.

He sat silently for a moment, his face still and blank as he listened to the beat of battle.
Then he took another big bite of his dinner, his face almost being engulfed by his wide grin.

"Hahahahahahaha! Praise be to Tyr! He has heard my prayer", exclaimed the Norseman as he looked up to the heavens and took a large gulp of the mead he had perchased in the last town the pair had visited.

Rothgar set the rabbit down on the log he was using as a seat and stood up, tightening his shoulder strap that held his mighty blade, Banahogg.

"It would seem your ears are as keen as your vision, my pointy-eared friend", chuckled Rothgar as the gleam of adventure found it's way to his eyes.

"Let us put the latter to use and you lead the way. Though the moon may be out, your elven eyes will see better in the dark than mine."

"That they do. But you have other skills we'll need to rely on. I count at least forty orcs marching northward towards us."

The elf bent down and ripped out a handful of grass blades letting them go to drift in the soft breeze. His eyes narrowed as the green stems floated southward.

"The bad news is that we're down wind. They already smell us. The good news is that there's more than enough for the two of us. What say a friendly wager? Whoever, kills more of the orcs drinks free at the next town? That is if we both survive... If not... well as your people say. It is a good day to go to Valhalla, no?"

 

[Johnny Blaze]

"That they do. But you have other skills we'll need to rely on. I count at least forty orcs marching northward towards us."

The elf bent down and ripped out a handful of grass blades letting them go to drift in the soft breeze. His eyes narrowed as the green stems floated southward.

"The bad news is that we're down wind. They already smell us. The good news is that there's more than enough for the two of us. What say a friendly wager? Whoever, kills more of the orcs drinks free at the next town? That is if we both survive... If not... well as your people say. It is a good day to go to Valhalla, no?"

"Aye, it always is", smirked Rothgar as the orc party neared.

"And you're on", he stated as he stood and hurled his handaxes, burrying them deep in the skulls of two orcs.

Rothgar laughed loudly and fiercely as the orcs roared and came at the pair.

As they neared, Rothgar willed Banahogg to erupt in flame, startling the creatures for a split second. And that second was all Rothgar needed as he sliced one in half at the waist, before moving on to bring another orc to his knees with a swift kick to the groin.

As the beast doubled over, Rothgar brought Banahogg down, lopping off it's head.
Another orc charged the Viking, but the creature ran right into the waiting Banahogg, impaling itself.

"Hahahaha! You best get started, elf! My thirst will not be kind on your pockets!"

 

[Green Lantern]

"Aye, it always is", smirked Rothgar as the orc party neared.

"And you're on", he stated as he stood and hurled his handaxes, burrying them deep in the skulls of two orcs.

Rothgar laughed loudly and fiercely as the orcs roared and came at the pair.

As they neared, Rothgar willed Banahogg to erupt in flame, startling the creatures for a split second. And that second was all Rothgar needed as he sliced one in half at the waist, before moving on to bring another orc to his knees with a swift kick to the groin.

As the beast doubled over, Rothgar brought Banahogg down, lopping off it's head.
Another orc charged the Viking, but the creature ran right into the waiting Banahogg, impaling itself.

"Hahahaha! You best get started, elf! My thirst will not be kind on your pockets!"

The elf watched as Rothgar ran up a count of five orcs in a matter of seconds. The elf sullenly thought to himself that he had his work cut out before him if he were going to win this contest.

The ranger nocked four arrows to his bowstring and aimed at a group of charging orcs. As the arrows whistled through the air, he pulled out Urndagnir, the sword glowing brightly as four orcs fell with arrows between their eyes. The remaining three in the group snarled as they ran at him. The elf danced avoiding the ax of the biggest, and brought the hilt of his own blade crashing against the skull of the deformed beast. Blood sprayed and bone splintered as the brain case of the orc exploded from the impact. Without thinking, Slieken gracefully swung the sword in a wide arc and watched a fountain of blood erupt from where the head of the next orc should have been. The last orc was within arm's length now and Slieken drove his free fist into its stomach bending the orc over in pain. As the orc fell to his knees, Urndagnir drove into its back pinning the beast to the ground through his own intestines.

"I am at seven now friend! And many more are now angry with us!"

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The elf watched as Rothgar ran up a count of five orcs in a matter of seconds. The elf sullenly thought to himself that he had his work cut out before him if he were going to win this contest.

The ranger nocked four arrows to his bowstring and aimed at a group of charging orcs. As the arrows whistled through the air, he pulled out Urndagnir, the sword glowing brightly as four orcs fell with arrows between their eyes. The remaining three in the group snarled as they ran at him. The elf danced avoiding the ax of the biggest, and brought the hilt of his own blade crashing against the skull of the deformed beast. Blood sprayed and bone splintered as the brain case of the orc exploded from the impact. Without thinking, Slieken gracefully swung the sword in a wide arc and watched a fountain of blood erupt from where the head of the next orc should have been. The last orc was within arm's length now and Slieken drove his free fist into its stomach bending the orc over in pain. As the orc fell to his knees, Urndagnir drove into its back pinning the beast to the ground through his own intestines.

"I am at seven now friend! And many more are now angry with us!"

"Good! Let them be angry", shouted Rothgar as he split the head of an on-coming orc in two with his sword, Banahogg.

"It will bring them to my blade faster!"

Rothgar howled in delight as he ducked and rolled under the wild swing of an axe. As he rolled past the attacking orc, Rothgar reached out with Banahogg, slicing the creature's legs off just under the kneecap.
As the orc cried out, Rothgar silenced him forever with a quick flick of his blade.

As the creature's head rolled across the dirt, Rothgar came up parrying the blows of two orcs wielding claymores. Rothgar slapped one blade aside with such force that it sent the orc wielding it stumbling away.

The other orc roared as it swung it's blade toward the Norseman, aiming to take his head.
But Rothgar held Banahogg high, and as the orc steel came into contact with the magical blade, it split in two. The orc stared dumbfounded at it's broken weapon. And that dumbfounded look was stuck on the orc's dead face as Rothgar ran the blade through the beast's chest.

The other orc had regained itself by now, and came at the Viking once again.
Rothgar gripped Banahogg tightly as the orc came in and slashed at him. But Rothgar side-stepped the strike and spun behind the orc, bringing Banahogg downward into the creature's back.

As the blood splattered across his face, Rothgar's eyes came upon a large orc wielding a rusty halberd...

 

[SuperFerret]

A cry for help, followed by the muffled 'boom' that a sudden fireball makes, disrupted the quiet peace of Venice as flames poured out of the shattered windows of City Hall. Two men, one clearly a wizard by the wisps of smoke trailing from his fingertips, ran from the smoldering building as a group of the City Militia arrived on the scene.

"Halt!" came the command from the highest ranking militia man on scene. The fleeing wizard skidded to a halt, muttering an arcane syllable and throwing his fists in the air. Small iridescent spheres of force flew from his palms as he unfurled his still steaming fingers, each rapidly moving sphere unerringly striking a different militia man, knocking them all to the ground.

The man with the wizard, a tall, bald, burly man with a rugged appearance and a hatchet hanging at each hip, continued running on as his spellcasting companion made short work of the Militia, heading to the nearest channel of water that made Venice so famous. The axeman brought two fingers to his lips, whistling sharply. The sound lingered in the air until he and the wizard both arrived at the edge of the flowing, dark water.

Heeding the call of the whistle, two hippocampi, beasts that combine horse and fish the same way mermen combined fish and man, emerge from the murky river that runs through the city. One whinnies, an oddly beautiful sound that was reminiscent of ethereal musical gargling, and the axeman and wizard each leapt out and mounted the aquatic equines, utilizing the bit, bridle and saddle that each were equipped with. "Ya!" called the axeman, snapping the reins and calling the hippocampi to motion, as the wizard waved his hands and cast another spell, this one affecting the two men themselves. Three slits appeared on both sides of each of their necks, barely noticeable even up close, even as they flapped open with each breath the men took. With a lurch, the men and their steeds dove beneath the churning waters of Venice, just as a new contingent of militia men arrived to witness their escape.

"The Mayor and High Priest have been killed!" came a frantic call from the steps of the still burning City Hall, and the militia men, being unable to persue or catch the two assassins as they departed underwater, decided to give up the chase to extinguish the fire, reasoning that they could call in an expert to track the killers at a later time.

That's why they came to me.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

...The little boy, whom Drake entrusted with the most important of duties--to light up the Great Beacon of Keltor in order to give signal to the Dragon Riders--runs, and he runs with all his might. Fast little fellow he is. He doesn't even completely realize it. Well, he realizes what he must do is important but he doesn't realize that his next course of actions could mean the survival or death of his people. And as a Caldorian soldier approaches the young boy as he tries to climb up the ladder of the Great Beacon, his situation grows most unlucky.

"Hey! Stop!""No! Let...go of me!"

***

The Caldorian forces continue to advance, despite what good Drake's tactics with the locals have proven to be. There are just...too many of them. They are just...too powerful. And Elwin...Drake doesn't even know at this point if Elwin is still alive; if anyone with him is still alive. Suddenly, splitting up to attack the enemy by surprise where they least expect it wasn't the greatest of ideas just yet.

"What are we going to do? We stop a few of them! Run a few away scared! Slay the fowl howlers...and what good does it do us when they just come back with more?! What good does--"

"ENOUGH!"

Drake's breathing gets deeper, hoarser, and eventually each breathe he takes is almost a chore his heart is beating so fast. He looks at his "men" before him, only they are not men. They are but townfolk and villagers with blunt axes, pitchforks, and whatever else they could muster up and find in their kitchens. What he needs are real soldiers. Otherwise...he's just condemning these good people to their deaths. But really...how can he not?

"Now listen. I know you are all tired and I know the odds do not seem to be in our favor any longer. But what other chase have you to make? If you do no die by the sword of your enemy or the magic pulsating from their dark hands...you will die just to die? Or would you die to save your King and Country? If these Caldorian scoundrels tear through this one village because we gave up rather than fight then what about the next set of villagers the cretins come to slay? They will look at us...and what we did to put off the enemy long enough. Long enough for what? I don't know. But the point is that we did something. So...do you want them to just surrender and condemn the rest of themselves and their families? Or do you want to fight, and at least allow time for the women and children to flee to the inner kingdom?"

The group of villagers are silent, the very one with the outburst earlier ashamed of his past actions and words. And finally, Drake's heartbeat started to slow and simmer down a bit; his pulse calm. He raises one of his swords up high, and points it just to the left.

"The enemy is there! Waiting for you! Expecting to see scared and weary mice. Don't give them that! Or they will win! Show them men! Let them know that when you stab them in the heart, you do so intentionally rather by stroke of luck. They are animals! Scoundrels! Vermin! Treat them as such! Put them down as if you would put down a beast! NO MERCY!"

And in chorus, the men battle cry and raise their weapons. One by one, they venture around the corner of the building with Drake following from the back as the last men exits. Before he even sees it, he can hear the shrieks of Caldorians tasting the might of the Keltoren proud people.

***

While Drake's pep-talk worked wonders with his group of villagers, he had all the right reasons to worry about Elwins. Elwin, whose "men" were quickly crossing sword and shield with Magus' personal bodyguards nicknamed The Majestics. Their efforts are that of a young boy with a wooden stick and tin-bowl against their Arts of Magic. Elwin is left alive and he alone. The rest of the villagers...suffer death at the hands of the howlers. After casting a magical enchantment among Elwin, Magus forced Elwin to watch first-hand as the abominations screech and scream with all their might, the echoing sounds of their voices at such a close range causing the heads of the villagers to implode within seconds.

After Magus takes pleasure in Elwin seeing the execution, as the rest of the Caldorian forces advanced through that area of the village, Magus has Elwin brought to him by two Caldorian soldiers.

"Well well. So you are the brave man who mustered up the resistance. I must say, I am not very impressed. I was expecting someone tall, young, strong, and--"

"Clad in the armor of a Dragon Rider? Cause they'll be here. You'll see."

Magus chuckles as he walks over to Elwin, encircling the old blacksmith. He leans in towards Elwin's ear, as Elwin continues to struggle from the hold the two Caldorian solders keep him held in.

"That is perfectly fine. Matter a fact...this was merely just for pleasure."

Elwin's eyes go white and wide as Magus' soft words chill in his eardrums as Magus walks away. His arms clasped behind him, he is approached by another Caldorian soldier with a message. The soldier lets out only a whisper and Magus smiles as he turns around facing Elwin.

"Dragon Riders, villagers...hell, the Barbarian Centaurs from the North of these lands...makes no difference to me. All will succumb or fall to the Caldorian Empire."

"Your precious Empire is going to lie in ruins one day, elf. And that day is just right around the corner."

"...Hmph. Take him away."

***

"Help! Please! Some one!"

"Aw, come now little boy. What do you need saving from? I'm just trying to--AAH! DAMNIT!"

The little boy tries to run after biting the soldier's hand and getting free before the now ill-tempered soldier grabs him by the hair. The boy screams and the soldier pulls out a small dagger.

"Now you had to go and do something foolish like that, didn't you? Hmm...suppose a strong lad like you would make a perfect labor slave back home."

"He is going to be a free man when he grows up, and nothing more."

"Huh?"

The Caldorian soldier turns to the side as a man enters the light from the shadows. No, not a man. An...elf? A Caldorian elf from the looks of it. Only, he doesn't wear the exact same armor as the soldier and his fellow soldiers wear. But he does coincidentally bear the emblem and mark of Caldoria.

"You'd turn on a fellow elf? We could be kin for goodness sake."

"I bear no allegiance with you, therefore we are not kin. These people are my people, and so you are going to have to let that little boy go and let him run off. Otherwise I will have to do something I'd much rather wish I didn't have to."

"Oh? And what is that? Kill me? HA! The blood of warrior--entire generations of warriros--courses through my veins. You are nothing but a disgraceful young punk, who does not know his place. Siding with these humans..."

"Again, Let the boy go."

"Alright...fine."

The soldier lets the boy go, and the kid runs over to the tower. Kelvin keeps his attention on the soldier, but he cannot help but also look at the young boy. The boy climbs up the side ladder of the great tower and Kelvin cannot tell why. And then, it hits him.

"Ah..clever little lad."

"What was that?"

"...Nothing. You can go run along now. The boy's freedom was what mattered to me. There is no need for any further bloodshed on these town stones and dirt."

The Caldorian soldier chuckles until his chuckle becomes an outright outburst of a laugh as Kelvin just stands there, ever so calm and ever so focused.

"You don't know what's going on then, do you? By nightfall this Kingdom will be in ruins."

The soldier places his dagger into his side holster, pulling out a broad sword to the right it. He smirks as he approaches Kelvin, all the while Kelvin's eyes are upward at the moment. The beacon is lit...and after a first failed attempt, the young boy musters up all the air he has within him, and the horn among the highest beacon, on the tallest tower, of all of Keltor is blown...
​

 

[Green Lantern]

"Good! Let them be angry", shouted Rothgar as he split the head of an on-coming orc in two with his sword, Banahogg.

"It will bring them to my blade faster!"

Rothgar howled in delight as he ducked and rolled under the wild swing of an axe. As he rolled past the attacking orc, Rothgar reached out with Banahogg, slicing the creature's legs off just under the kneecap.
As the orc cried out, Rothgar silenced him forever with a quick flick of his blade.

As the creature's head rolled across the dirt, Rothgar came up parrying the blows of two orcs wielding claymores. Rothgar slapped one blade aside with such force that it sent the orc wielding it stumbling away.

The other orc roared as it swung it's blade toward the Norseman, aiming to take his head.
But Rothgar held Banahogg high, and as the orc steel came into contact with the magical blade, it split in two. The orc stared dumbfounded at it's broken weapon. And that dumbfounded look was stuck on the orc's dead face as Rothgar ran the blade through the beast's chest.

The other orc had regained itself by now, and came at the Viking once again.
Rothgar gripped Banahogg tightly as the orc came in and slashed at him. But Rothgar side-stepped the strike and spun behind the orc, bringing Banahogg downward into the creature's back.

As the blood splattered across his face, Rothgar's eyes came upon a large orc wielding a rusty halberd...

Grsh'na growled loudly, scaring a small flock of birds into the air. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Too much of it was orc, not enough was human or elf. He scanned the battle field as he brandished his halbred. Dozens of his brothers lay dead on the ground already. He grunted as he charged towards the human warrior.

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The halberd came rushing down towards Rothgar's head. But the blow was not as frenzied as a regular orc. This strike had more precision to it. Albiet about as much precision as an orc could give it.

Rothgar raised the flaming Banahogg and parried the blow. The orc quickly moved forward with his fist, trying to catch Rothgar with a quick cross.
Rothgar avoided the brunt of the blow, but the punch still caught him in the shoulder.
The force of the punch spun Rothgar, but the Viking warrior quickly caught his balance. Using the momentum generated by the blow, Rothgar spun, Banahogg behind trailing behind him.
As he spun around, Rothgar brought his sword up in a slicing motion, choppinng the halberd in two...

 

[Green Lantern]

The halberd came rushing down towards Rothgar's head. But the blow was not as frenzied as a regular orc. This strike had more precision to it. Albiet about as much precision as an orc could give it.

Rothgar raised the flaming Banahogg and parried the blow. The orc quickly moved forward with his fist, trying to catch Rothgar with a quick cross.
Rothgar avoided the brunt of the blow, but the punch still caught him in the shoulder.
The force of the punch spun Rothgar, but the Viking warrior quickly caught his balance. Using the momentum generated by the blow, Rothgar spun, Banahogg behind trailing behind him.
As he spun around, Rothgar brought his sword up in a slicing motion, choppinng the halberd in two...

Grsh'na felt the ax handle give and dropped the useless piece to the ground holding only the piece of the handle with the head of the ax as he snarled at the disgusting human. His eyes shone a deep red as he lunged at the human. Grsh'na's berserker rage overwhelmed the human driving both warriors to the ground. Grsh'na growled and bared his teeth at his adversary.

Slieken saw the orc take down his new friend and quickly strung up an arrow. The arrow flew straight and true as it buried itself in the orc's neck.

 

[Johnny Blaze]

As the arrow struck and the orc recoiled, Rothgar used the oppertunity to get the brute off of him.
Launching his fist that held Banahogg, Rothgar punched the orc square in the nose, splitting it wide open.
Grsh'na gurnted in pain as he was knocked off the Viking by the force of both the arrow and the blow.

Rothgar rolled to his feet, slicing the belly of a charging orc wide open. The beast dropped it's short sword and grabbed at it's stomach, trying desperately to keep it's innards in.

Rothgar made it to his feet and took a defensive stance, Banahogg's fiery blade pointed towards the rising orc.

 

[Green Lantern]

Grsh'na staggered to his feet, growling as he licked the blood from his broken nose. He surveyed the area around him and saw the carnage involved. The smell of death rose to meet his shattered nose, but none was a good kind of death, it was the death of his tribe, not of the filthy fleshpods that stood before them. To his side, he saw one of his fallen brothers, arrows piercing his gullet. Arrows fired by the disgusting elf. He saw the two heroes standing side by side, the human holding a flaming sword, as the elf nocked another arrow. He grabbed the rusty mace from his fallen comrade's dead hands and charged once more towards the two men, as the only member of his tribe still standing.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Slieken watched as the last remaining orc charged him and Rothgar. He let fly an arrow, and was astonished as the orc batted it away with the mace. Slieken let his bow drop as he pulled Urndagnir from its scabbard, the blade glowing brightly with the coming onslaught.

 

[Carnage27]

Amun lay sleeping in his chamber in the city of Itjtway, the candle light reflecting of his light brown skin. The Egyptian warrior had just returned from a scouting mission in Persian territory, assessing whether or not their new emperor was a threat to the Pharaoh and Egypt.

A loud, booming voice woke him from a deep sleep. He rose to see the form of his mistress, Sekhmet, Goddess of the Sun, standing before him, surround by a halo of light as if she was the sun herself, and he knelt in homage.

"Rise, Amun, Champion of the Sun. I bring tidings of great despair and worry," the deity paused, an obvious look of concern spreading across her face. "Athens has been leveled by the forces of darkness. As we speak its undead citizens spread out like a plague of locusts across the land of Greece. I fear this is the work of an evil this world has never seen. And your God wishes you to help stop it. Go now to Athens. Find what has brought this scourge upon us, and destroy it before it consumes the world."

Amun bowed his head in acceptance, "Yes, my lady. It shall be done. Not a corpse's breath shall touch Egypt's lands, or shall I, The Lion of Sekhmet, lay dead on the battle field."

The Goddess's vision faded from his sight as he placed his armor over his chiseled physique. As he tied his khopesh's sheath to his belt, the excitement of the coming journey beginning to well up in his chest. He had never been outside of Africa, but he knew all about the Greek lands, which he learned from traveling dignitaries from Egypt's ally.

He slung the Sun's Wrath over his shoulder, and began to head out towards the Egyptian desert, when he was stopped by his lieutenant, Sallah.

"Sir, why do you leave? You have only just returned."

"I have been given a mission by the great Warrior Goddess, my old friend," Amun said, patting him on the shoulder. "I am headed to Greece. The Undead have ravaged Athens, and threaten the whole of Greece. Wait here for my word, and keep the men sharp. I may need your help in the coming days."

"Yes, sir!" Sallah saluted as the Champion of the Sun filled his waterskin and began his journey to the land of Olympus.

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The chilling wind whistled in his ear as the fool moon illuminated the grassy field in which he now stood.

It had took him a month to get here after parting ways with his traveling companion, Slieken the elf. A parting that was most difficult, Rothgar recalled. But, after news of the tragedy in Athens, it was clear where his blade was needed most.
For this was no mere accident. Something sinister was at work here. The very night air permeated a presence of pure dread. Even a hardened warrior such as Rothgar could not escape the cold chill running down his spine.

A wolf howled, cutting through the night air.

"That sounded too big for a wolf..."

As well as sounding too close for my liking, he thought as he gripped Banahogg, his mighty, ancestral sword tightly in his hand.

"Well, you daft fool", he whispered to himself as his eyes scanned the tree line.
"No sense standing about like an old shrew, waiting for death."

"Not when you can meet it head on."

Rothgar ducked low and sprinted quietly across the open field, the tall grass dancing like the waves of the ocean around him in the glistening moonlight.
It was only a matter of seconds before Rothgar disappeared into the shadows of the woods, headed straight towards the ruins of Athens...

 

[trustyside-kick]

OOC: Reminder that from here on out, since I will be also doing present-day posts and such, the way to distinguish my past-history tale and my present-day posts are through the quote tags that are titled "Ballad of Saints" followed by the Verse.

***

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***
​

...Kelvin stood before the clad member of the Armored Elite. Kelvin faced no ordinary elf warrior. Taking a battle stance, the elf warrior wields a brilliantly crafted swallow, whereas Kelvin merely stands before him with his newly made blade. His armor? Nothing in comparison to the warrior. All he has is a shoulder shield, which against a user wielding a swallow does nothing for him in terms of deflection. Kelvin doesn't quite take a stance yet. He stares at the clad warrior for but a while longer.

"Have you just now come to understand, boy? You're of no match."

Almost waiting for something, still Kelvin continues to not take any sort of defensive or offensive battle stance. The Elite chuckles, running towards his dumbfounded opponent with a fury of swipes and attacks with his swallow.

"Then I guess you gone and--ARRGGHHHKKKKK!!"

At just the right moment, with extreme speed and precision, just as the swallow was to swipe at Kelvin's brow, he ducked and stabbed the warrior in the neck. There were two things Kelvin had going for him, for he was facing an experience warrior: agility and weight. The warrior of the Armored Elite was so well equipped and protected, that Kelvin was able to easily time and spot the most opportune time to strike.

Dropping to his knees, trying to hold onto the blood that spews from his neck with one hand, the warrior grabs hold of Kelvin's shin unable to speak.

"You should've walked away."

The blood draining from his body, Kelvin is easily able to get out of the fallen warriors grip as the elf dies. The torch at the beacon gets lit, and behind him Kelvin can hear the great large horn blown throughout the skies of Keltor. The young boy then climbs down the tall ladder, and runs over to Kelvin.

"Fine job you did there, lad. Now, go on and run along to safety. I'm sure your mother is sick and worried about you."

Watching the young boy run off, Kelvin then turns his attention to the numerous howlers that are ravaging and plaguing the town. He kneels down, lifting up part of the deceased elve's cape, and uses it to wipe the blood from his blade. Then, he walks towards the shrieks and howling of battle.

***

Slaying as many howlers and Caldorian warriors as he can, Drake was finding himself in a much better position than before. Numbers are lost left and right, but it seems that the Caldorians are losing many more numbers then the Keltoren townsfolk. He thinks he is at a victory almost, but then remembers Elwin and the other townsfolk. Slaying yet another howler, Drake leaves the scene in search of Elwin.

***

As Elwin is being carried away from Magus' sight, he calls out to the supposed King of Caldoria.

"You can take this land, you can take all the waters of the world, hell you can try to take the sky for all you like. But you'll NEVER be the King of Caldoria! I know EXACTLY who you are!"

"Stop."

The two guards stop in their place, and Magus signals them to bring Elwin back around to his presence. Nodding at the two guards, they let Elwin go, throwing him down before Magus' feet. The elf King looks down at the battle-tired human with much glee.

"And what would you know of such a thing, human?"

"I used to be friends with your father. Tried to save him from The Great Battle but he refused it, wanting to die defending his Country and Land."

"So you were friends with a fool then."

"He was a good man. Fine warrior and fanatastic King."

"...he was an idiot. He lived as an idiot, and from what I heard he died one too. Nothing more. He paraded around, preaching how peace between elf and man would strengthen our realm, when all it did was create an abomination. And seeing as how you were acquainted with him doesn't say much good about your own intelligence."

***

Drake finally makes way through the town, spotting Elwin standing before an elf whose wardrobe differed from the other. Drake had not known it, but the elf he was looking at was none other than the King of Caldoria Magus. As the young firefly is about to make a hasty decision, he is stopped by the very King's nephew, Kelvin.

"Wait."

"What do you mean wait? Elwin's over there, and from the looks like it, you and I are not his only audience for his apparent execution. And you want me to wait?"

"You may think you will have the element of surprise..."

Kelvin points upward, making Drake aware of the two Caldorian archers who stand atop the rooftops of the buildings that encircle Elwin, Magus, and rest of The Majestics and Armored Elite.

"...but you would find out the hard way that you would be doing nothing more than putting yourself in grave danger as well."

And so Kelvin begins to think of a strategy, as Drake wakes impatiently. The two find themselves up against at least 14 soldiers of the Caldorian army that has decided to attack this small town in Keltor with their King. Not recognizing the caped figure that stands between himself and Elwin, Kelvin plots to save his lifelong mentor and practical father...
​

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The full moon beat down on the dilapidated castle of Warlock's Rest, piercing every crack and crevice. Blasting it's glow across every courtyard and through every hole.

It had been one month to the day since Athens' perished in a hellish inferno of dragon fire. And the visions of death and agony still danced across Charaun's mind as the lich glided across the cobblestone courtyard.

Atop his head sat the Crown of Horns, the artifact of unspeakable power that he had spent nearly all of his existence searching for. Forged in ancient Babylon by the arch-wizard Myrkul, the Crown was a powerful necromatic power source capable of raising entire cities of undead, as he showed at Athens just a month ago.
With it bolstering his already awesome power, Charaun felt practically god-like.

Flanked to his left was his servant and High Priestess of Orcus, Anastasia.

The gold lacing her dark robes shimmered in the moonlight, contrasting beautifully against her pale white skin.

To his right was his general, Hilarion. Adorned in full plate mail, his burning red eyes blazing from the darkness inside his helmet.

"Gru reports that the forest is cleared of the vermin, my Lord", spoke the death knight as he followed his master into the castle.
"All elven clans are either dead or have fled the area."

"Excellent news", rasped the lich as he led the pair down a descending stairwell towards a lightless dungeon.

"And how did Victor fair?"

"He performed his duty admirably, my lord", answered Anastasia.

Victor was a young paladin who was captured months ago. Through acts of torture and conditioning he was turned from the path of righteousness. Now he served Charaun as a blackguard, an evil paladin, devoted to the demon lord Orcus.

Accompanying the werewolf Gru on the purging of the Black Forest was his first task since joining their ranks, and the lich was curious to see how his new tool would fair.

"Very good", Charaun chuckled as he opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell and entered a well lit and furbished room.

Standing in the room were Charaun's elite.

Victor, the fallen paladin, stood silently in the back. He bowed lightly in respect as Charaun entered the room.

The shapely and deadly Kallisto, chief assassin of the lich, stood at the side of a large stone table that took up the center of the room. On the table was a handful of maps and reports.

Standing next to Victor was Gru, the werewolf leader of Charaun's hunters, and brother to the slain Alak. Killed by the blade of the thieving elf Slieken.

Looking over one of the maps was a woman with dark skin, almost the color of night. Her raven black hair was straight and long, flowing down between her shoulder blades to her waist. She was tall, nearly six-foot, five inches and exuded an aura of respect and darkness.
She did not even bother to look up as Charaun entered the room and took his place at the table's head.

"Ah, Nightshade, how good of you to join us", cooed Charaun as the shadow dragon looked up and shot him a threatening glare.

"I come only because I wish it", the "human" woman spoke, her voice carrying a hidden strength behind it.

"Of course", Charaun nodded in respect.

Dragons, he thought, ever the arrogant elitists.

"We have been preparing for a month now", Charaun began as Hilarion and Anastasia moved to sit at the table, as did the others.

"Athens, one of the most powerful threats to our success has been dealt with. Now it is nothing more than a massive necropolis, packed with undead. And that has provided the perfect distraction as kingdoms all throughout Europe have been forced to commit troops to defend against the encroachment of the unliving."

"It is time that we showed the kingdoms of the world what war truly is. In two days time, we will mobilize our forces and take control of Germany. Hilarion will command the army as it marches into Bavaria and Munich. Once there we will establish control over the southern portion of the country and bolster our legions with the bodies of the slain in our wake."

"From there we march on Berlin. With Germany in our control, we will have established a beachhead to expand my empire to all of Europe."

"Our scouts say that the Bavarian militias and forces are preoccupied with fighting off the undead plague stemming from Athens", Hilarion continued.
"They will not pose a threat."

"As well they should not", Charaun chimed in.
"For Anastasia and her priestesses will summon an infernal attachment for your ranks. The gracious Nightshade has also offered to accompany the army along with six of her dragon allies."

Nightshade's eyes narrowed at this declaration. Clearly she made no such offer, but the lich was forcing her hand. And she did not want to seem weak in front of the lesser races.

"Yes, I shall personally select a detachment of wyrms to accompany Hilarion's forces into battle."

"Of course", stated Charaun matter-of-factly.
"Consider this session over. We have much work to do and little time to dawdle."

They departed the room one by one, all bowing their respects to their master, save for Nightshade. The shadow dragon merely glared menacingly at Charaun as she past him.

"Kallisto", called Charaun as the voluptuous little elf was about to leave the room.
"A moment alone, my dear. I have a special mission for you."

 

[Carnage27]

I am Archilaus. I have seen kings rise and fall in the blink of an eye. i have watch empires control and crumble in the time most would see their lives end. I am Archilaus, and I am a vampire. I was once a great king of noble Sparta, now I am king of the creatures of the night.

I have waited for the time when the darkness could spread. When it would be able to envelope the world. That time has come.

I glance over my shoulder and see Scarlet rise out of bed, the moon reflecting of her chalk white skin. Her supple body presses up against me as she whispers in my ear seductively, "Charaun has returned to Warlock's Rest, my lord"

Charaun, the Athenian Lich had moved into the Black Forrest shortly after I had. His powers have grown immensely since that time, and just a month ago he laid waste to Athens, transforming its inhabitants top creatures of the undead.

I smile and turn to her, "Thank you, my dear. Go now, and summon Erik. Tell him to prepare our troops. I am going to visit the Lich tonight."

She struts out of the room to do my bidding. Scarlet has been of great service the past few years. She is one of my newest creations, but already one of my most useful. Her divination skills are powerful, and awoke when I made her mine. But she has informed me of a dire circumstance. As I stood in my Romanian keep, the champions of righteousness mobilize against Charaun. He believes himself unstopable, but Scarlet has painted a different picture. A picture of a defeated Lich, unless I act.

I place my old Spartan armor on, and sheath Vampire's Embrace on my hip. A whilrwind kicks up around me as I unleash my elemental powers, and lift off the ground. I shoot into the air, and it only takes me a few hours to reach Warlock's Rest.

I land gracefully at the castle's gates, and am stopped there by two undead guards.

"Tell your master that the Scourge of Sparta requests an audience."

 

[Carnage27]

It took him three days to reach the Egyptian port city of Rashid, and when Amun reached it he saw all its vessels tied up at the dock. Their captains and crews seemed to be sitting there, as if they were frightened to sail the Mediterranean.

The warrior strolled up towards a scraggly looking sea captain, "Why does your vessel stay docked? Are you not losing money, my friend?"

The man's eyes opened in shock as he stared up at the imposing man in front of him, "You have not heard? Athens has been over run by the dead. The men are scared to sail anywhere near it."

"Get your men. We sail for the Greek coast within the hour," was his simple response.

"Are you mad? You wish to go to hell on earth?"

Amun simply stared deeply into the sailor's eyes, his intensity seemingly buring into his soul, "I have been tasked by the Goddess Sekhmet to purge Greece of its pestilence. You will aid me, or face the wrath of the gods."

"V-v-v-very well. We sail within the hour."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

Archilaus was silently led down a series of winding corridors and stairs by the diminutive elven vampire, Kallisto, and a small escort of skeletal warriors.

The procession finally came to a halt in front of a large iron door adorned with many glyphs and runes of power.
Kallisto held out her hand and placed it on a specific rune, and the symbol soon glowed with a dark aura. The sound of many locks unbolting was heard and the large doors slowly creaked open.

Kallisto silently led Archilaus into the throne room, the skeletal warriors shuffling back the way they came.

A dark presence permeated the room, and the ghoulish stone statues that lined the path towards the throne seemed to gaze ominously at the pair as the walked towards the raised dais ahead of them.

The dais was decorated in fine linens fit for a king, and on it's top sat a large onyx throne, intricately carved from a solid piece of the material long ago. Torches lined the walls, emitting an eerie green light that caused shadows to dance as though alive across the corners of the room.

Sitting in the throne was Charaun, dressed in dilapidated finery. And sitting atop his rotted brow was the Crown of Horns. The dread aura that filled the room seemed to be coming from the artifact.
And the feeling of death was invigorating to Kallisto and Archilaus as the approached the throne.

"Archilaus, the Scourge of Sparta", spoke Charaun as he sat up in his chair.

"Welcome to Warlock's Rest", the lich continued as Kallisto moved to stand at his side, her hand never leaving the hilt of her weapon.

"To what do I owe the honor of such a prestigious visitor?"

 

[Carnage27]

"Archilaus, the Scourge of Sparta", spoke Charaun as he sat up in his chair.

"Welcome to Warlock's Rest", the lich continued as Kallisto moved to stand at his side, her hand never leaving the hilt of her weapon.

"To what do I owe the honor of such a prestigious visitor?"

I smile as I take off my helmet and perform a sweeping bow to the Lich, "Ah, it is I who should be honored, Charaun. You have done something that I have dreamed of doing for longer than I can remember. I wish I could have seen Athens burn in the dragons' fire."

The pride swells out of Charaun. I can feel it. It is just as Scarlet predicted. He will become arrogant, and he will fall.

"I come with an offer of alliance. Between my armies and yours. Even as we speak, the champions of the gods march towards us, intent on destroying everything you have worked for. You are powerful, mighty Charaun, but you alone cannot hope to defeat their combined power."

I pause, allowing him to process what I am putting forth, "For two centuries, we have been the greatest powers in Europe, allowing the other to gain strength, because we both knew we want the same thing. To watch the lands be enveloped by darkness. We now stand on the threshold of that goal, my friend. Let us together snuff out the good in this world."

"What say you?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Eastern Europe

After his adventure in Norrland, the good Docktore and his faithful assistant were in their horse-drawn covered wagon, riding down the bumpy roads, a small village sits a half mile down the road..

"That was a waste of my time....bunch of Viking savages....."

"Are you saying that because they took your weapons without payment?"

"No, Watts. I can remake those...it's that bloody wench...it hurts whenever I....uhh...you know!"

His assistant only manages a sly smile as they contine down their rocky path.

People gaze at them strangely as they enter the village. A small boy runs up to the wagon breathlessly.

"Where have you come from, sir?!"

"Norrland, my child..."

"Have you heard the news?"

"What's that, boy?"

"Athens is in ruins. The dead walk among the city-state."

The Docktore and Watts exchange looks.

He hands Watts the reigns and dissapears back into the covered wagon.

"We cannot stop now, old friend. Take us to Athens as fast as you can. Now if our chance to prove to my family that I can win the day without magic."

"What will you be doing?"

"Working. We do not want to meet our enemy unarmed."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

2 years ago

"With Odin above me, blade at my side, my men behind me and home in my heart, Gunnar, I will be safe." Björn said with a smile.

No matter what he was saying, Björn always had a way of having Gunnar believe. "That sounds a lot like your speech to Halldór and his men right before you had them attack those harpies." Gunnar retorted with a smile of his own.

Björn laughed. "Hey now, they all survived." his chuckle faltered for a bit, and the two men were silent. Björn looked over Gunnar´s shoulder; back at the home he was leaving. Gunnar looked past Björn; out at the endless sea and uncertain future that awaited his brother.

"You will be in my prayers." Gunnar assured his brother, extending his hand.

"That is all the protection I will need." Björn replied, taking his brother´s hand and pulling him in to an embrace.

"Farewell brother."

"Farewell."

Today

The moon was drowning.

Looking down at the sea, Gunnar nervously tapped the hilt of his sword. The nightsky was reflected back up at him, the moon and stars dancing on the waves beneath him.

The only sound was of each ragged breath that came out of Gunnar´s mouth; that and the ship sailing along the eerily black ocean. A mere day´s worth of sailing lay ahead of him and his crew. And then they would touch down upon the shores of Greece. Specifically, the exact same place his brother had set foot two years earlier.

News of Athen´s destruction had reached Gunnar´s village in Norway a mere week after it had happened. Rumors of dragons, hellfire, demons, and the dead walking the earth had sent chills down the spines of everyone that heard them. People mourned the loss of their greatest. Björn Olafsson had perished, and a great depression struck the village.

They had even held a ceremony; they claimed Björn was in Valhalla now.

Gunnar, and the 10 warriors that had agreed to come with him, refused to believe Björn had passed.

"You are still out there, brother." Gunnar said silently. "I am coming for you."

Gunnar took one last look down at the moon beneath the ocean top before letting out a deep yawn. His eyes begged to be shut, his feet cried for rest.

-----

It was a dream Gunnar would remember when he woke up. He would remember it until the day he died.

He stood on a mountain of ash. The stench of sulfur and of burnt flesh invaded his nostrils. Looking down he saw nothing but ash; as if the world itself had been burned to a crisp. The sky was black; a deep, dark shadow that stretched out in all directions and threatened to swallow everything under it. Beside Gunnar stood a lone, dead tree.

"This is just the beginning."

"It will get worse."

The two voices cawed from above Gunnar´s head. Looking up he saw two pitch-black beings above him, perched on a thin branch.

"Athens was first."

"The world is next."

Gunnar wanted to speak. To say something. To ask about his brother. But he found he could not speak.

"The scourge has come. A great evil."

"Raise the dead. Lay waste to Midgard. To everything."

"It must be stopped."

"Must be stopped."

"Continue on to Athens. There will be others."

"You must fight, Gunnar the Tame. You are not alone."

"Odin watches over you."

"Odin watches over your brother."

"Now go. Meet the others."

"Save the world."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

I smile as I take off my helmet and perform a sweeping bow to the Lich, "Ah, it is I who should be honored, Charaun. You have done something that I have dreamed of doing for longer than I can remember. I wish I could have seen Athens burn in the dragons' fire."

The pride swells out of Charaun. I can feel it. It is just as Scarlet predicted. He will become arrogant, and he will fall.

"I come with an offer of alliance. Between my armies and yours. Even as we speak, the champions of the gods march towards us, intent on destroying everything you have worked for. You are powerful, mighty Charaun, but you alone cannot hope to defeat their combined power."

I pause, allowing him to process what I am putting forth, "For two centuries, we have been the greatest powers in Europe, allowing the other to gain strength, because we both knew we want the same thing. To watch the lands be enveloped by darkness. We now stand on the threshold of that goal, my friend. Let us together snuff out the good in this world."

"What say you?"

Charaun sat in silence as he contemplated the vampire's words. He did not trust Archilaus, that much was certain.
But even with the power of the Crown fueling his army's ranks, Charaun's goal was a lofty one. And one dangerously close to the precipice of failure. As much as he hated to admit it, an alliance was the wisest course of action.

Besides, he could deal with Archilaus after the world belonged to him.

"Very well, Archilaus. As we share the same goal, a military alliance would be most beneficial."

"As we speak, my armies prepare to march on Bavaria and Munich as I begin the conquest of Germania. But the kingdoms to the East in Gaul pose a threat to our goal."

"As unlikely as it is, if they manage to rally their forces with enough haste they could prove to be a great nuisance to us."

 

[Andy C.]

​

​

​

Liam of Nottingham​

​

Sir Rowland's horse has thrown a shoe.​

That's why I'm spending the rest of the afternoon working a hell-hot oven, bashing hammer and steel together, forging a new one-- instead of visiting her like I'm supposed to. Today's the anniversary, and I won't even be able to give her the flowers she likes until after sunset.​

Three years ago, this day, my mother died.​

It wasn't from any murderous enemy or wicked curse. It was simply the cold that took her. I'd worked hard to try and keep the house warm, but the simple fact was that we were too poor. She had taken care of me all alone since I was too young to remember, and when it was my turn to take care of her...I failed.​

Since then, I've made it a point to go to her grave on the day she died, give her a handful of her favorite flowers, and let her know that I never let the house get cold anymore.​

But today, Sir Rowland's horse threw a shoe. And whenever Sir Rowland wants something, the people of Notthingham had better make sure that he gets it.​

"I want Thunder up and about by supper," he told me, "or my men will burn your little shop to the ground."​

Sadly, that's the way things have been ever since I can remember. Not a year before I was born, England was still a relatively peaceful kingdom, all banners united for the good of the realm, all men and women glad to fight for the just and righteous at Camelot. Once the good King Arthur died, though, the ideas of right-over-might were shoved aside by fat, greedy men, men who flexed their muscle over people who could not do anything about it, simply because it made them feel important. Men like Sir Rowland.​

It seems like I was born at just the wrong time, in just the wrong place. I know how bad the country has gotten, but I'm in no position to do anything about it. That's why I'm a lowly blacksmith, pounding out horseshoes for a man the whole shire is too afraid to hate.​

"Excuse me, blacksmith."​

I look up from my work and my thoughts, and see an old man on a horse, draped some manner of official robes. His colors aren't those of Sir Rowland, however. They are the red and gold of the old Round Table. This man was, in his day, a Knight of Camelot.​

"Can you tell me the way to the Lord's castle? I must speak with William, son of Godfrey of Nottingham."​

I never knew my father, but I did know that was his name. Why would a Knight of King Arthur come looking for his son, and why would he think to find him in Rowland's castle?​

"I live in no castle, sir, but William is my name and Godfrey was my father's. As far as I know, I'm the only one in Nottingham who can say that."​

The old man narrows his eyes and looks me over, inspecting me like I was on display.​

"Ah! Of course! You look just like him," he exclaims before fumbling through his saddle-bag and producing a parchment.​

"This, then, is for you. It's your father's last will and testament."​

A lot can happen in a month, I'm told. I wonder how much has happened in the month I've spent in Sir Rowland's dungeon.

*********

The old man who had come to Nottingham was indeed a former Knight of the Round Table, and claimed that he had known my father well. Sir Roderick was the man's name, a nobleman who had served the great King Arthur since the old wars with King Lot and Morgan Le Fay. Though not among the chosen few that became the stuff of legend, such as Launcelot or Gawain, Roderick performed his duties to the best of his abilities--"The best a man can ask for in this life," he said.

He told me of how he was there at the seige of Camelot where Arthur and Mordred slew one another, and where my father fell defending the ideals of the new world. He told me of their friendship, their many quests carried out side by side, and of how he was the only one entrusted with my father's will.

"Of course, I have been far later in fulfilling that task than I had hoped," he admitted. "After all, Camelot fell nearly ten years ago. I had spent most of that time in an Orkney dungeon, among the last prisoners of the last battle of Mordred's war. As the traitorous knights and their beastly minions fled, they captured as many of us as they could, hoping to get a ransom from Arthur's successor. We were tortured, starved, submitted to a thousand humiliations, but we never broke. Most of us died, but none of us broke. For years, those of us who survived held to our honor."

"Why did no one come for you?" I asked him.

"Because no one knew to look for us. I eventually learned that Guinevere and Launcelot reign was short and chaotic, starting almost immediately after the battle. Such was the turmoil between the factions of the Round Table, that they could never tally the missing, so they simply assumed us all dead.

"So how did you escape?"

He laughed bitterly.

"Who says I did? My captors were eventually hunted down and slain by errant knights, some the sons of men I had fought alongside. They released me from my bondage and sent me on my way. I made my way back to Camelot to find it in the sorry shape it is in today--empty, save for thieves and hermits. Only the deepest parts of the castle had yet to be plundered, which fortunately included your father's quarters. I found his will, and resolved to fulfill my last duty--which is what brings me here."

He handed me the scroll, written years ago by a man whose voice I have never heard, and whose face I have never seen. Still, I have kept it ever since.

My son,

If you are reading this, then I am no more for this world. I expect you shall shed no tears for me, for I know I have spent far too long away from you and your mother, in service of our King. That service is both the greatest and most unfortunate part of a Knight's life: the honor and dignity of protecting England, equalled only by the loneliness and estrangement of never seeing your home. When I left for Camelot, you were only a newborn. As I write this, you must be still a boy. I expect by the next time I see you, you will be a man.

Still, I am comforted to know that you will not go wanting, as the castle is still in good hands. My squire Rowland has been entrusted with the running of the castle and the land of Nottinghamshire, until you come of age. He is to instruct you in the ways of knighthood, from martial weaponry to court manners to literature and history, and when you are ready, the land and my fortunes will all be yours. Only when his duty is performed shall Rowland be knighted himself, with you ready to follow soon afterwards.

Remember always, do right by the people of Nottingham. Do right by your King and your country. And above all, succeed where I have failed you, and do right by those you love.

Take care of your mother, and let her know I will love her now and forever. As I will you, too.

-Sir Godfrey of Nottingham

I was dumbstruck. In my infancy, Rowland must have thrown my mother and I out of the castle, claiming it all for himself upon news of my father's death. My whole life, I've lived under the oppressive thumb of that miserable toad of a man, only to learn that I was meant to govern after all.

"So, what do we do?" I asked Roderick.

"We must expose this pretender for what he really is," he straightened up. "Come, William--your birthright awaits you."

********

Now, I sit in chains, the only thing to break the monotony and the crushing loneliness being the warden coming down to beat me some more. Despite all of this, I have managed to harden my nerves, like iron being beaten and fired into steel. The more they wish to break me, the more I resist them.

I will find a way out of this. I will be free, and when I am, I will set things right. No matter if it takes years.

Until then, I will be like Roderick in Orkney. I will not break.