Now, before I begin, I'd like it to be known that one does not write a story in one simply post. It takes time, and over time it shall be edited. EW was once full of stories, commonly written by the Bards. Few Bards are still active, though, and even less write.
I'm glad to not be of the latter.
I'll be switching points of view and writing styles throughout.
I'm glad to not be of the latter.
I'll be switching points of view and writing styles throughout.
An Empire of Fire
In days of Old they formed, a people of Blood and Steel. Their armies were mass, their lands plentiful, their people wealthy and rich. Their King stood tall above, a figure of fear and knowledge. Never had a Kingdom of Mortal Men stood so tall, and never had a people been so loyal. For centuries they stood behind this King they thought so dear, a seemingly Immortal man brought to them from the Lands Beyond the Seas.
Aenvar, they called it, the City of Stars and of Bones. Long ago it stood, a city of stone that shone in the Light of the Day and faded in the Darkness of Night. A river passed through it's crowded streets and between it's walls, spilling under the stone bridges of the that kept the city linked together. Deep into the surrounding mountains they delved, bringing forth the treasures of the Earth to spread amongst their people. From lands all around came Knights, seeking the favor of the people of this famed city. There the King, his name long forgotten, held his domain, and there he sealed his fate.
Quickly the surrounding lands fell to Aenvar's Legions. The King's hand reached long and far, and never did his Empire halt it's attacks. Cities fell before their blades, their walls slowly crumbling like water upon stone. None dared stand before the Legions; none but one...
They stood before the ranks of Men and Steel, shield to shield and spear to spear. Volleys of flame and arrows fell, yet still they did not fall. When smoke filled their eyes they dared not to cry, and when blood covered their shields they dared not to run. Fear had left them, abandoning the raged group of defenders to their foolish wits. And as the Men of Blood and Steel fell before them they had not faltered, but held their lines arm to arm, defending the city with spear and shield. Wave after wave were crushed before them, and still they only gained in morale. And as the King of Aenvar rose before them, riding a horse so large it could trample grown men, it was them who had unhorsed him. But not long after they surrounded him had Seven more join the conflict- An array of armored Knights, blue cloaks the color of the sky trailing over their shoulders, while blades made from the finest metal sat in their hands.. They hacked and they parried, cutting through spear and shield as if butter; blood ran in the cities streets, and flames brought down its crumbled walls. But as the King looked down upon his captured city the Knights were gone, as were their streaming blue cloaks and elegant swords.
Guards of the King is what they were named so long ago. The Nine Guards of the King, each bearing the same light blue cloak as their brethren, laced with silver lining. Never had they been seen without the identical, silver suits of armor that their brothers always wore, and never would they be. They sought no favor, and they wanted no glory; yet that is not the only reason for their helmets, which covered their features so well. It was said they never aged, put to their word to defend the city so long as it stood.
And even as an age of Peace found its place amongst the years of War they stood by the King's side, never donning their steel.
Aenvar, they called it, the City of Stars and of Bones. Long ago it stood, a city of stone that shone in the Light of the Day and faded in the Darkness of Night. A river passed through it's crowded streets and between it's walls, spilling under the stone bridges of the that kept the city linked together. Deep into the surrounding mountains they delved, bringing forth the treasures of the Earth to spread amongst their people. From lands all around came Knights, seeking the favor of the people of this famed city. There the King, his name long forgotten, held his domain, and there he sealed his fate.
Quickly the surrounding lands fell to Aenvar's Legions. The King's hand reached long and far, and never did his Empire halt it's attacks. Cities fell before their blades, their walls slowly crumbling like water upon stone. None dared stand before the Legions; none but one...
They stood before the ranks of Men and Steel, shield to shield and spear to spear. Volleys of flame and arrows fell, yet still they did not fall. When smoke filled their eyes they dared not to cry, and when blood covered their shields they dared not to run. Fear had left them, abandoning the raged group of defenders to their foolish wits. And as the Men of Blood and Steel fell before them they had not faltered, but held their lines arm to arm, defending the city with spear and shield. Wave after wave were crushed before them, and still they only gained in morale. And as the King of Aenvar rose before them, riding a horse so large it could trample grown men, it was them who had unhorsed him. But not long after they surrounded him had Seven more join the conflict- An array of armored Knights, blue cloaks the color of the sky trailing over their shoulders, while blades made from the finest metal sat in their hands.. They hacked and they parried, cutting through spear and shield as if butter; blood ran in the cities streets, and flames brought down its crumbled walls. But as the King looked down upon his captured city the Knights were gone, as were their streaming blue cloaks and elegant swords.
Guards of the King is what they were named so long ago. The Nine Guards of the King, each bearing the same light blue cloak as their brethren, laced with silver lining. Never had they been seen without the identical, silver suits of armor that their brothers always wore, and never would they be. They sought no favor, and they wanted no glory; yet that is not the only reason for their helmets, which covered their features so well. It was said they never aged, put to their word to defend the city so long as it stood.
And even as an age of Peace found its place amongst the years of War they stood by the King's side, never donning their steel.
The Battle of Savädor
They had marched all day with little to no break. Gentry's legs ached with an unforgivable pain, and his hands were numb from holding the sack that had always been seen over his shoulder. In it jumbled the required utilities of his infantry; the metal scraps that he had called armor, food, and a shovel. At his side was a plain blade. Neither too rusty nor very elegant, it was the simplest sword Tundrik had left him. The old armorer was not rich, yet he had supplied Gentry with all he could.
But now that they could see the city ahead, realization of what was to come hit him like a brick. Aenvar had not gone to war for a near two centuries, and only a few veterans had fought actual battles.
But now that they could see the city ahead, realization of what was to come hit him like a brick. Aenvar had not gone to war for a near two centuries, and only a few veterans had fought actual battles.
