Rotov, I salute you for finishing this. I have written a dramatized story of what happened during the Demon Wars, though its incredibly inaccurate and focuses nearly solely on the final battle of Cair Andros. I wish this would come back. I hoped it would come back. Alas, it is not be I fear. The glory days are over, the Sun goes down in the West, and the time of RP is over.
The below is mostly fictional, and alas incomplete. I hope to finish it.
The Fall of Cair Andros
The iron of the blade felt cool as it ripped through his breastplate, through his chest, and out his back. His vision, tinted red by the fires surrounding him, saw only carnage and ruin. The screams of dying men, the blood curdling shrieks of the enemy, and the clash of weapons all faded into a dull throbbing in his ears. Smoke filled his lungs as he gasped for breath, and his heart beat was like a pounding in his ears. Blood poured from his wound as the blade was yanked from his body, and he collapsed face first upon the ground. His sword fell from his grip, the ruby embedded in its pommel clattering against the stones of the courtyard, and he knew then that it was finished. Despair welled up in his chest, and with his final moments he recalled the events leading up to his fatal wound. . .
A pounding upon the door jarred Aegon into wakefulness. He blindly sat up, hands scrabbling for his tunic, and he shouted to whoever was at the door to enter. Pulling on his sword belt, he faced the sillouhete of the man entering. The man was thin, dirty, and possessed a nasty wound upon his head.
“My Lord,” said the man, as he dropped to one knee before Aegon, “I come bearing grave tidings, the garrison of Forlond has been overrun. They were to many, we were caught off guard in the night, many have been taken captive, and few have escaped. I rode hard from the city with three others, yet the enemy pursued us, and they gave their lives to make sure I brought you this message.”
Aegon seemed to age visibly the longer the man spoke. Finally he asked how this could have happened, with no warning and no call for aid!
The man replied, “The battle was swift, Lord Aegon. A slaughter.” The man paused and looked down at his boots. “There was no way you could have reached us in time.”
“How long would it take for the enemy to move against us?” asked Aegon.
The man seemed to be contemplating, then said, “They could arrive by nightfall, Lord.”
“Very well, go to my steward, you will find him in the Westernmost Tower, and ask for a bed and some new clothes. Get some rest, you have my thanks.” replied Aegon.
The man bowed his head and departed. Aegon shouted for his servants to rouse the Lord’s Greenwood, Ryswell, and Avalon, and to bid them join him in the great hall. Also to send riders with the orders to recall Lord Silverwood with all his strength to the city.
Aegon finished dressing quickly, strode from the room, across the courtyard where men sat eating and sharpening their weapons, and climbed the steps towards the doors to the hall. The guards pulled open the doors, and he moved down the hall towards the council table. Seating himself at the head of the table to await the arrival of his captains, he gave orders for wine to be brought, along with something to break their fast upon.
The food and drink arrived before the men did, and Aegon tore into a loaf of bread. While eating, Lord Vale Ryswell strode in looking ready to burst, his red hair and beard lending a fiery look to the mans face, followed by the Lord’s Greenwood and John Avalon. Taking up their seats, all three men stared at Aegon, yet no one broke the silence. Aegon studied each man in turn, pondering how each would react to the news. From John Avalon’s calculating schemes, to Lord Greenwood’s impetuous outbursts, to Vale’s righteous anger. Aegon was brought back to the moment by Lord Greenwood, ever impatient, inquiring whether the rumor was true.
“Has Forlond truly fallen, My Lord?”
“Yes, a messenger came to me with the dawn, bringing the news of the city’s fall with him” Aegon said gravely.
Vale slammed his fist into the table and swore explosively. John stared at his food, yet began swiftly to speak of barring the gates and preparing for a siege, and Lord Greenwood began speaking of how they must ride to meet the enemy in the field.
“Silence! This noise will get us no where! There was one more piece of information I was brought.” shouted Aegon.
All three men stared silently at their King, who then said in a low whisper. “They will be here by nightfall.”
Silence filled the room. “Well then, our course is clear.” John stated cooly. “We must prepare the men to fight and die in defense of the city, and we must do the same. I will go and prepare the gates and asses our food stores, if that is the will of the King?”
“It is, go, and send word to me when you are finished,” instructed Aegon. “As for you Vale, I need you to find Yarnar and Skaramir, send them to me, and then take charge of disassembling the camps, and prepare the ground for our guests.”
“It would be a pleasure my Lord,” replied Vale, and he rose and departed with his mouth set in a hard line.
Lord Greenwood rose, “And what of me my Lord? What shall I do?”
“Your duty, you are Lord Captain of the Armies of Blackfyre are you not? Rouse the men, and prepare them for battle. I will join you before noon to decide how to deploy our forces,” answered Aegon.
“Aye my Lord.” Lord Greenwood strode from the hall and to the camps where the men were quartered.
Sometime later, while inspecting racks of weapons in the armory, Yarnar and Skaramir found him, and inquired as to why he had summoned them. Aegon asked whether they were as good with the bow as their reputations claimed they were. Receiving an answer in the affirmative, Aegon outlined his plan for a group of bowmen to be posted above the main gate, to feather any foes foolhardy enough to bring a ram remotely close to his gate’s.
After they had understood what he wanted, they left to gather several dozen more marksmen and visit the fletchers for extra quivers of arrows, while Aegon proceeded to the main gate to see how Lord Ryswell’s fortifications were proceeding. Scaling the stairs up to the westernmost gatehouse, Aegon could see men hard at work digging trenches and lining them with stakes, and yet others disassembling tents, and still more carrying supplies. Wagon wheels had carved twin trenches through the muck toward the main gate as they went back and forth carrying timber and canvas.
He turned around and surveyed his city. Cair Andros was strong, built across a valley with steep mountains at her back, and a swift river flowing to her Eastern side. At the very end of the valley a gigantic waterfall cascaded down the cliffs behind the fortress-city, its echoes reverberating off the great outer walls. The walls were built in a straight line from the river’s edge to the mountains feet, with three sets, each higher than the last, with three gates set into each. At the very back sat the keep. A massive stone work that had a commanding view of the entire plain for miles until the horizon. Atop the highest tower waved the great banner of House Blackfyre, and their it had waved for many a year. Aegon turned back to the fields of men before him, and his eye was caught by a gleam on the horizon.
Slowly, over the ridge to the North, a pale banner showing a silver tree rose. And riding under it on a great warhorse, sat the Lord Lucolas Silverwood, oldest and wisest of the bannermen of House Blackfyre, silver plate shining in the sunlight. Behind him rode the greatest part of the strength of the north, and it was this sight which restored morale to the disheartened men. The armored column came down through the bustle of the camp, up to the great gates, and into the courtyard. Aegon descended the gatehouse steps and rushed toward the older man. Lucolas dismounted, his armor rattling when he hit the ground. The two men embraced, yet Lord Silverwood’s face was grim as he reported his findings to Aegon.
“My Lord, my outriders have seen the enemy raiding as far up as the Fords of Ilthilien, and they bring reports of entire villages put to the sword. A great battle has taken place, and the Lord’s Roton and Folkmer have been smashed. Last I heard they were fleeing with all haste back to Forlond.”
“Your news is old my friend, Forlond has fallen,” said Aegon grimly, “We are next I fear, and the city is preparing for a siege. This is why you have been recalled.”
Lucolas nodded, then sighed.
“I had hoped for some rest,” a grin a split his weathered face, and he continued, “well, no sense pining for that which is beyond our reach. What is to be our strategy?”
“Come, it is nearly noon, and we must find Lord Greenwood. Their all your questions will be answered.” said Aegon.
Calling out to a runner as he dashed towards him, Aegon inquired as to the whereabouts of Lord Greenwood, and the man informed him that he had been sent by him to find the King, and bring him to his temporary command tent. Aegon, accompanied by Lucolas, followed the man out the main gates and into the field toward the largest tent on the plain. The cloth was dyed bright green, with streaks of brown, and had Lord Greenwoods leaf banner fluttering from the central pole of the pavilion. Upon entering the tent, he saw the Lords Greenwood and Ryswell bent over a series of maps, messily spread out over the table. Quickly glancing behind him before he ducked inside, Aegon saw ranks of men, gleaming in the sun, entering the gates of the city. The sight gave him hope, yet also made him nervous. He realized that this was the final stand. The last battle of the war would be fought here, and it was unlikely any of them, or any of the old order, would survive. He set his jaw, and entered the the tent.
“My Lord,” said Captain Greenwood, “Vale and I have been studying these maps, and have come to several conclusions. Our greatest weakness, as you know, is the western wall. It is long, to long in fact, and is vulnerable to siege towers and ladders. It also is in poor repair, and its towers, unlike those of the eastern side, have yet to be rebuilt, and as such, are susceptible to fire. Worse, portions of the wall are held up entirely by wooden scaffolds, and should any foes reach the inner base of the wall, they could bring the entire structure down with flame. Even worse, you know the nature of the enemy that marches against us, fire is their friend. I find it unlikely we can hold the outer walls. Therefore I recommend that we deploy for battle upon the plains, and meet them in the field!”
“No,” was Lord Silverwoods short answer, he continued, “We lack the strength to meet them in battle, every man of us knows this. You should know this Greenwood. You are young, but old enough to remember the Rout on the Anduin. Their the mounted strength of Kargeth, Ilthilien, and several companies of our own Knights met the enemy in the first great battle of the war. And it was their that ours and our allies men fell nearly to a man! We cannot meet this foe in a pitched battle, it will be the end of all of us. Our only hope is to hold the city. A faint hope yes, but one that we must cling to.”
Lord Greenwood looked down. “I know the battle, Lord Silverwood. I lost two of my closest friends in that slaughter. Do not seek to instruct me on the past. I acknowledge your point however, and defer to your experience.” Vale was seated, yet his face had fallen noticeably during Lucolas’s speech. It was clear he was more inclined to die in open battle then trapped like a rat.
“Good to have you back Old Man. You always seem to raise my mood,” said Vale, directed toward Silverwood. “I almost had felt happy this morning, should’ve known you would show up to fix that.”
Lord Silverwood allowed a small smile to lighten his features, and chuckled slightly at Vale’s remark. It was at this moment that John Avalon ducked into the tent, and told them all about how the gates were in good order, and that they’re food supplies would last them about six weeks of a siege.
“Though it is unlikely that any confrontation with the enemy could extend longer than a week. Our gates however may hold them for long.” This was the conclusion of Lord Avalon, and none questioned him, seeing as how he had been besieged more times than any other man in the tent could boast of. Being the Lord of Stonehold Tower, located on the border of orc lands, John had the never ending problem of orc incursions, yet his fortress had never fallen, and he remained one of the most powerful men in the Kingdom.
The meeting continued for another hour, with the debate raging from how to deploy the scattered companies of Knights they had remaining, to what should be done with the families remaining in the city. To leave them in the inner levels of the city risked all on one battle, but if they evacuated them then the enemy could slaughter them while the men were fighting to defend the city. It seemed to have no clear path, yet the debate seemed to lean more and more in favor of risking everything on one throw of the dice.
“....and if the walls are held, then it is very likely we can drive them back out of the valley. We must keep the people close, I will not leave them with no protection, and we have no men to spare to safeguard them,” Vale concluded. “The people will remain here. If the city falls, they would have no way to survive the winter anyway. We shall stake all we have on the notion of saving our city from the flames. We are approaching the hour of battle, continue with your duties. I will visit with the men, and gauge their moods. Dismissed.” Aegon exited the command tent, and saw the sun had risen to its zenith, and was already falling towards the horizon.
Time seemed to be accelerating as the day grew later. The levels of noise continued to fall, even though the city was alive with activity. With the entire populace moving anything they could carry deeper into the city, and the soldiers either standing guard or throwing up barricades and earthworks, no one had much time for small talk. The sun sank lower and lower and Aegon’s nerves were beginning to fray. Soon enough, while he was inspecting an archer post, several riders galloped out of the light of the setting sun and into the valley itself. The riders made directly for the city and were clearly exhausted; yet still they pounded onward. “My Lord! My Lord Aegon! We bring news! The enemy has crossed the river in great force, and have destroyed or scattered any resistance to them. The survivors of Ilthilien have been hunted down nearly to a man, and we have found the stripped bodies of villagers hung along our path.” The man doubled over and gasped for breath as he finished. “Then they will be here soon. So. It is to be decided today. Very well. Find food and armor. Report to Lord Silverwood, he will see you taken care of. I thank you for your service,” replied the King.
The men were rushing about, some armored, some clutching swords, some dashing into position on the walls. The banners of the Great Houses of Blackfyre were being raised along the walls. There was the Orange Starburst of Ryswell atop the Western Wall. John Avalon’s Phoenix banners stood proud along the Eastern ramparts. Lord Greenwood’s Oak Tree, resplendent on a forest green field, were being moved above the river barriers. In reserve were the men of the North, under the Silver Tree of Lucolas Silverwood. Upon the main gate of the city, towering over all the others, flew the royal standard. The Black Three-Headed Dragon of House Blackfyre flew defiantly in the wind, a challenge to all who would oppose the Last of the Dragon Kings.
Aegon stood, possibly for the last time, and descended the steps of his throne. “Bring me my armor and blade. I will fight above the gates with my men,” ordered the King. He slid his night black breastplate over his chest, and winced as the straps were pulled tight. His wrists were covered by his mailed gloves, and his legs were covered in dark plate steel. Lastly, he buckled on his great-sword and strapped his dagger to his waist. Grabbing his helm, he strode from the hall, rattling softly into the night air. He saw scores of terrified civilians as he passed down through the city, and to each he tried to offer some sort of encouragement or comforting word. Many asked him to see their sons safely through the fight, and he swore to them he would do his utmost. Even though he knew that the battle could very well go against them, he sought to project an air of confidence so as to bolster the hopes of the people. He finally reached the courtyard and was greeted by the tramp of metal boots and the sight of flickering torchlight. He could see the alarm in the mens faces, and he could tell that their courage was hanging by the thinnest of threads, he only wished he had some great tactical marvel to carry the day. But alas, siege warfare had always been a simple art, and now was not a time for risky gambles. He met the assembled Lords at the center of the courtyard, and felt a pang of regret that this may be the last time they ever assembled together.
“Well friends, it seems to me that we have a battle to fight. I swear to you my Lord, I will never let the Western Wall fall. If I am to spend my last hours on this earth fighting with you men, then I consider the best way. If we are to die here, then let us do so with honor, and hold to the oaths we swore to the King when we were young men, so long ago.” Surprisingly, these words were spoken by Vale Ryswell, who seemed to be coming to terms with their fate.
“Agreed. Let it never be said that we forsook our vows, but that we fought to the last man in defense of our people,” agreed John Avalon.
“If I am to die here, then it shall be my pleasure to lay down my life in service to my King. It has been an honor to serve with you all,” replied Lord Greenwood.
“Very well. It has been a pleasure. Let us take our posts, and prepare to give battle to these demons that come to annihilate everything we hold dear. Hold strong my friends, once more into the breach we must go,” finished Lord Silverwood.
“You are the greatest men I have ever had the honor of knowing. Good luck my friends.” Aegon told them all he had thought for so long. They parted ways, back to their posts. The men cheered as Aegon ascended the stairs above the gate, and he unsheathed his sword. “This night! We stand in the path of the hordes who come to take our lands, our freedom, and our lives! Here we stand! Here we fight! If this is to be our end, then let us bring as many of the enemy with us as we can! Brothers, I say this to you now, never give up the fight! For we are the Sons of the Dragon, and none shall break our spirit nor our will to fight! For Glory! For Country! And for Home!” Aegon finished his speech and turned once more to look out towards the approaching hosts.
The enemy came in overwhelming numbers, so vast and so numerous that they could not possibly be counted. The fires they brought with them glinted off the scarred iron of their armor and weapons. Strange voices echoed from the host, and the noise was hideous to the human ear. “Stand fast, do not fear them. Hold your line,” ordered Aegon as he watched the enemy advance halt a stones throw from the outer walls. A gargantuan orc like beast strode forwards, and in his hand he held a bundle. He opened his foul mouth and spoke “We are come, look out upon your doom human. We are the breakers of Kingdoms, shatterers of hosts, and your reckoning.” His eyes never left Aegon’s as he spoke, “I am tasked to show you the folly of resisting us. Behold your mighty allies, oh Dragon-King, and look upon your own fate.” With that, the beast threw the bundle forward, and three severed heads rolled out of the sack. They were the heads of the Lords Roton, Folkmer, and Alvaler. Each of them had been friends of the King, and the sight sickened him. Aegon bristled with rage as he looked down upon the filth threatening his men’s lives. “You know not what you have done, beast. Those are greater men than ever you could hope to be, and so you strike them down out of jealous rage for all your failings. Know that only death awaits you here if you should so much as engage in a battle with my people. You have never yet felt the full strength of House Blackfyre in battle, yet you will if you stay encamped outside my walls. To that end, and to avoid the needless death of my people, I challenge your coward of a leader to single combat, to decide the fate of my Kingdom. If he be so mighty as stories say, let him prove it by meeting my blade in an honest fight,” the King finished his speech and waited for an answer.
The beast chuckled, “Have you grown so desperate of late, as to have to resort to petty insults to try and save your worthless skin? Their will be no duel, you will die like a common man, and your city will burn. Such is the will of our Lord.” The beast began to turn. . . and suddenly collapsed, lifeless, an arrow sprouting from between his eyes. Aegon glanced sharply to his left, and saw one the captains of his archers with bow in hand. “Beg pardon M’Lord, he was getting on me nerves.” Said the captain.
Aegon simply nodded, and knew that battle was now inevitable.
), Tim has said it, but there will be a LoTR MMO (Likely).