Story time (I hope you like it)
Posted: Mon Jan 22, 2001 9:01 am
Almost as soon as Lanys noticed his new assailant, he also noticed the battle axe being swung his way. He dodged, but not entirely succesful, and with a dull thud the blade of the axe hit him on the right side of his forehead. A strange sensation took possession of him for a few seconds, the sensation of falling without being able to do anything about it, but in a surrealistic moment. He regained his bearrings as he hit the ground below and behind him, and caught a glance of the Dark Soldier who had just hit him. A grim smile was on his face, and he was bringing the axe about for another swing, a swing to finish the job. In some terror, Lanys realised his sword had slipped from his hand while falling. But almost as soon as this thought had struck him, his right hand came in contact with the dead hand of another Dark Soldier, who lay sprawled dead on the ground next to him, in his own blood. The hand still hung onto the sword it had been wielding when his owner had been still alive. Without further hesitation, Lanys took hold of the sword, and in one flowing motion brought it up, thrusting it forward with all strength he could muster in his half sitting position. The grim smile changed to one of pain and surprise as the sword struck deep inside the abdomen of the Dark Soldier, the swinging motion of the axe coming abruptly to an end. As the corpse fell to the ground, Lanys yanked the sword free, and managed to get on his feet shortly thereafter.
For the first time since the battle had begun, Lanys was able to look around and observe the situation. What he saw hurt him a lot; wherever he looked he only saw more and more Dark Soldiers, scavenging the corpses of the fallen. Whatever he saw of his friends and fellow soldiers was on those very corpses. He didn't see any others of his regiment left alive, and the lack of battle sounds indicated the fight was over. Hopelessness and despair grabbed him by the throat, as he realised the massacre that had taken his friends from him. It felt like a dagger was stuck in his throat, and ripped downwards, tearing him open. Fear almost made him feel sick as he realised this was the day he would die. Within minutes, he would be one of the many corpses on the ground. This was not supposed to have happened, they had outnumbered the enemy at least three to one. But as they were jumped, he had already seen the enemy was stronger in number than what they had been chasing. Somehow he had feared the enemy had received reinforcements, but had discarded the thought when the frenzied battle exploded. Now, he knew for sure this had been the case. Some Dark Soldiers noticed him, and came closer, almost relaxed. They knew he was defeated anyway. One last fight, that was all.
Suddenly, some of the soldiers stopped and turned, all facing the same direction. Some of them stepped away, to make way for someone else. His eye caught the newly approaching figure, as he came close. Dressed in a long, dark cloak, and in a darkred breastplate, but wearing a helm with a skeletal visor, Lanys went wide eyed, as he immediatly recognised the figure. Horror and fear struck him, almost completely paralysing him instantly. Had death been a horror to behold only moments ago, now it would have been a blessing. He knew about Dark Lords, having heard stories about them ever since he was young, but he had never met one. He knew they could keep a man hanging on to the final small thread of life for days, if not weeks, without letting them die. Death would have been swift and easy against the Dark Soldiers, but he knew now weeks of horror and torment lay in store for him. The realisation of that fact impacted him with such power, that he felt sick and utterly paralysed. Hell had been brought to this very site, and he could hardly focus his thoughts anymore.
"So, one of these wimpy fighters is left alive, eh?"
The voice was deep and somewhat unnatural. Every word hammered down despair into his body, and Lanys wondered if it was possible to die by pure fright.
"Well, seems like I will have some fun here after all!"
A heavy laughter escaped from under the helm, driving Lanys nearly insane. All of a sudden, in the middle of the turmoil caused by the fear and horror, he felt a clear point of focus. A signal of pain came from his right hand, which he had somehow been holding somewhat behind him. He felt the grip of the sword, and realised he had been holding it so thightly, he had squeezed all the blood from it. All the emotions suddenly merged into one, clearly focused thought. He would strike out, now, as hard as possible, and hopefully anger the Dark Lord or one of his Soldiers enough to get him killed outright. All his remaining strength and energy went into this one moment. As he closed his eyes, he started to swing the sword in the direction of the Dark Lord, with all the might he could bring up.
The sword reached its apogee, where the Dark Lord was supposed to be, but it continued without meeting any form of resistance. It caught Lanys off guard, and he had to make two steps to regain his balance. Surprised, he opened his eyes, and looked up, while he stopped the sword from swinging much further to the left. He realised he had failed and missed, and looked up to the Dark Lord. The laughter had stopped, and suddenly Lanys noticed the right arm of the Dark Lord had been cut off at the elbow. Almost as soon as he had seen that, the Dark Lord fell apart in to pieces, spilling guts and body fluids in a sickening display, a clean cut running from his left shoulder down to his right elbow. In utter surprise, Lanys looked at the sword he was holding. It was fiercely brimming white, with an intensity that was almost blinding. Across the blade were dark streaks of blood, hissing and boiling, spreading a foul odor. Lanys looked to the remains of the Dark Lord on the ground before him, and once again at the sword. Suddenly, a victorious feeling filled him, completely surpressing his fear and horror. He looked around, and saw the Dark Soldiers were all looking stunned at the remains of their leader. A smile came to his face, despite what he had gone through, and he knew he was going to avenge his fallen friends. He would extract righteous justice, and anger exploded into him. Without hesitating any further, he struck out to the Dark Soldier nearest to him. One strike cut him in half, and sent him to the ground with a scream. Before the others had a chance to react and realise what was happening he had made a jump forward, and struck out again. A second soldier went down. Dark Soldiers everywhere around him came into motion, gathering to strike him down, but the sword, still burning brightly in a furious white, cut through their weapons and armor as a knife through warm butter. When nearly a dozen had been slain without ever hitting him, he saw some started to run away. More and more followed their example, and without thinking, he started to run them down. Somewhat surprised, but unable to think long about it, laughter escaped from his mouth.
Not too far away, but far enough not to be noticed, a figure dressed in a dark mantle was standing in the shadows of a small tree, observing the carnage going on.
"Yes," he muttered softly, "play now, my child, play now. You will learn later, oh yes, later you will understand. But for now, play".
Soft wicked laughter came from under the hood. Suddenly brimstone and sulfurous clouds started to gather around him, and he started to fade away. Softly he started chanting in an ancient and long forgotten tongue.
"Ykerra do Wergea, Ykerra do Koatlys..."
Sword of Evil, Sword of Chaos ...
Written by Maurice, 2001.
For the first time since the battle had begun, Lanys was able to look around and observe the situation. What he saw hurt him a lot; wherever he looked he only saw more and more Dark Soldiers, scavenging the corpses of the fallen. Whatever he saw of his friends and fellow soldiers was on those very corpses. He didn't see any others of his regiment left alive, and the lack of battle sounds indicated the fight was over. Hopelessness and despair grabbed him by the throat, as he realised the massacre that had taken his friends from him. It felt like a dagger was stuck in his throat, and ripped downwards, tearing him open. Fear almost made him feel sick as he realised this was the day he would die. Within minutes, he would be one of the many corpses on the ground. This was not supposed to have happened, they had outnumbered the enemy at least three to one. But as they were jumped, he had already seen the enemy was stronger in number than what they had been chasing. Somehow he had feared the enemy had received reinforcements, but had discarded the thought when the frenzied battle exploded. Now, he knew for sure this had been the case. Some Dark Soldiers noticed him, and came closer, almost relaxed. They knew he was defeated anyway. One last fight, that was all.
Suddenly, some of the soldiers stopped and turned, all facing the same direction. Some of them stepped away, to make way for someone else. His eye caught the newly approaching figure, as he came close. Dressed in a long, dark cloak, and in a darkred breastplate, but wearing a helm with a skeletal visor, Lanys went wide eyed, as he immediatly recognised the figure. Horror and fear struck him, almost completely paralysing him instantly. Had death been a horror to behold only moments ago, now it would have been a blessing. He knew about Dark Lords, having heard stories about them ever since he was young, but he had never met one. He knew they could keep a man hanging on to the final small thread of life for days, if not weeks, without letting them die. Death would have been swift and easy against the Dark Soldiers, but he knew now weeks of horror and torment lay in store for him. The realisation of that fact impacted him with such power, that he felt sick and utterly paralysed. Hell had been brought to this very site, and he could hardly focus his thoughts anymore.
"So, one of these wimpy fighters is left alive, eh?"
The voice was deep and somewhat unnatural. Every word hammered down despair into his body, and Lanys wondered if it was possible to die by pure fright.
"Well, seems like I will have some fun here after all!"
A heavy laughter escaped from under the helm, driving Lanys nearly insane. All of a sudden, in the middle of the turmoil caused by the fear and horror, he felt a clear point of focus. A signal of pain came from his right hand, which he had somehow been holding somewhat behind him. He felt the grip of the sword, and realised he had been holding it so thightly, he had squeezed all the blood from it. All the emotions suddenly merged into one, clearly focused thought. He would strike out, now, as hard as possible, and hopefully anger the Dark Lord or one of his Soldiers enough to get him killed outright. All his remaining strength and energy went into this one moment. As he closed his eyes, he started to swing the sword in the direction of the Dark Lord, with all the might he could bring up.
The sword reached its apogee, where the Dark Lord was supposed to be, but it continued without meeting any form of resistance. It caught Lanys off guard, and he had to make two steps to regain his balance. Surprised, he opened his eyes, and looked up, while he stopped the sword from swinging much further to the left. He realised he had failed and missed, and looked up to the Dark Lord. The laughter had stopped, and suddenly Lanys noticed the right arm of the Dark Lord had been cut off at the elbow. Almost as soon as he had seen that, the Dark Lord fell apart in to pieces, spilling guts and body fluids in a sickening display, a clean cut running from his left shoulder down to his right elbow. In utter surprise, Lanys looked at the sword he was holding. It was fiercely brimming white, with an intensity that was almost blinding. Across the blade were dark streaks of blood, hissing and boiling, spreading a foul odor. Lanys looked to the remains of the Dark Lord on the ground before him, and once again at the sword. Suddenly, a victorious feeling filled him, completely surpressing his fear and horror. He looked around, and saw the Dark Soldiers were all looking stunned at the remains of their leader. A smile came to his face, despite what he had gone through, and he knew he was going to avenge his fallen friends. He would extract righteous justice, and anger exploded into him. Without hesitating any further, he struck out to the Dark Soldier nearest to him. One strike cut him in half, and sent him to the ground with a scream. Before the others had a chance to react and realise what was happening he had made a jump forward, and struck out again. A second soldier went down. Dark Soldiers everywhere around him came into motion, gathering to strike him down, but the sword, still burning brightly in a furious white, cut through their weapons and armor as a knife through warm butter. When nearly a dozen had been slain without ever hitting him, he saw some started to run away. More and more followed their example, and without thinking, he started to run them down. Somewhat surprised, but unable to think long about it, laughter escaped from his mouth.
Not too far away, but far enough not to be noticed, a figure dressed in a dark mantle was standing in the shadows of a small tree, observing the carnage going on.
"Yes," he muttered softly, "play now, my child, play now. You will learn later, oh yes, later you will understand. But for now, play".
Soft wicked laughter came from under the hood. Suddenly brimstone and sulfurous clouds started to gather around him, and he started to fade away. Softly he started chanting in an ancient and long forgotten tongue.
"Ykerra do Wergea, Ykerra do Koatlys..."
Sword of Evil, Sword of Chaos ...
Written by Maurice, 2001.