Vikings, Near the outer wall at the Mesfirian Kingdom.
War cries from Deathknights rang out menacingly in the Colossal Snowpeak Woods.
"Gate Bearers! Soldiers! Prepare yourselves! The Deathknights are upon us!" One of the Ereignfall soldiers shouted, his veins pumping with hot red blood.
He was nervous. The Gate Bearers and soldiers were nervous. They watched as the forest in the distance was becoming more and more engulfed by scorching hot fire and smoke.
Trails of smoke, fire, destruction followed in the wake of those ghastly entities as they charged from our of the forest and into the open pasture. They were large fiery bodies of armor fashioned and interworked by otherworldly sorcery, an ominous collection of wrathful, sentient beings.
"Ready your bows! Under no circumstance can we allow them into Sindirin!" A Gate Bearer who went by the name of Tenniss Everwood shouted at the peak of lungs to his soldiers on the other parts of the wall!
The Gate Bearers dipped the tips of their arrows into small stone compartments hidden in the battlements. The water was taken from the scorching hot Hephaestus Sea itself.
"Loose," Everwood commanded!
A siege of searing arrows soared hundreds of feet and crashed upon the hoards of the imposing Deathknights and the undead beasts which they rode upon. These creatures they rode on were impervious to any sensations and were capable of withstanding the fire which flared from the Deathknights.
Flurries of steaming arrows shot out from all parts of the outer wall. Those arrows came descending strongly upon the mass forces of the fearless Deathknights like vicious rainfall. The first siege of arrows did little than leave the earth injured and blanketed with small wooden arrows. Those rushing beasts forged from obscure metal and searing hot flames below were seemingly unaffected, not a single one was struck down. Their fiery armors repelled all arrows that descended upon them.
"Fire at will! Remember we are aiming for open sockets! I believe in you men!" Everwood yelled after seeing that no Deathknight was struck down.
The arrows pierced deeply into the decayed, yet seemingly unfeeling, bodies of the animals which the Deathknights rode on but they trampled on past the arrows seemingly unaffected. The creatures which they rode bore hideous and grotesque appearances, with portions of their foul and rotten flesh peeling from their bodies and their fur and hide flaking away into the brisk distance, leaving the remnants of what were likely once animals.
The humans at the Mesfirian gates released yet another flurry of boiled obsidian arrows down at the Deathknights. But then something very peculiar caught the eyes of several of the Gate Bearers and soldiers atop the wall. Those Deathknights had bows and arrows within their fiery grasps.
"They have bows and arrows," a panicked Ereignfall soldier yelped!
It was difficult to hear. The arrows fell like rain upon them. One arrow shot by a young boy struck one Deathknight that was running on its two feet.
The distance between them and the gates of the first shire south of Sindirin was becoming ever tighter. The scared and startled sounds of the humans dispersed throughout the curtain wall. The war bells continued ringing. They worked diligently to prevent the Deathknights from entering into the empire, fighting to their best ability but those flaming beasts who were, until yesterday, once lost to myth could not be tamed so simply.
"I got the bastard! Did you see that father? Wait-wait, let me show you again. Are you watching?" A content Gate bearer shouted at Tenniss proudly while loading another arrow into his bow. A look of nervousness was rooted deep in his expression, his hands could hardly remain still.
"Don't become proud, Sebastian, one mistake and we could be the ones with arrows in our heads," words spoken by the commanding Gate Bearer, Tenniss Everwood.
Sebastian laughed anxiously, his heart pulsating.
Tenniss gave Sebastian a menacing glare. "Careful now, you foolish one."
Sebastian sighed.
Everwood coughed as he squatted down to retrieve another arrow from the contents of the lower cabinet, he lifted his head back up and placed the arrow into his bow and fired one directly into the eye socket of one approaching Deathknight that rode the back of a decrepit horse.
"They are strong, but they are not invincible but do not underestimate them, men," Everwood shouted trying to build morale for his men and the Ereignfall soldiers aiding them!
The Deathknight which had been struck collapsed onto the ground with along with its large beast, minorly discombobulating some Deathknights that were rushing from behind.
Everwood jokingly remarked while he began to work himself into a hearty laugh, "Now that's how you put an arrow in a bastard's eye!"
He laughed aloud but immediately began to compose himself back into a poised attitude as he bent down to reach for another arrow. He grabbed some arrows, as much as his hands could grip, and stashed some into his quiver. He glanced up and immediately ducked back down as he saw arrows flying towards him and his side of the wall. They struck different parts of the battlements but Tenniss was not deterred. He inserted the arrow into the string of the bow, counted to three, and then rose back up quickly and shot an arrow randomly at the hoard. He continued to do this for a few more times, his mind as hardened as the wall he stood upon.
But Everwood felt some guilt for scolding the boy as he began to let loose yet another arrow at the massive hoard of bloodthirsty beasts. He was unusually quiet he began thinking.
"Look, son, I'm sorry. You've done well."
Yet there was still not a word from his son's mouth. It was hard to hear but he would have heard him. Tenniss abruptly became agitated then turned his head to Sebastian while yelling, "Sebastian, I said I was sorr-"
Tenniss's voice cracked in awful agony and his face widened with mixed consternation. His skin soured into something pale and livid. Stuttering and trembling, he desperately tried to utter his only son's name.
A thick arrow, which he recognized to be a Zambodian arrow, was hanging from his son's face, pinning the young boy's head to the wall. This type of arrow was once forged in an ancient civilization, Zambodia. Some artifacts survived from the old civilization but not many. Tenniss could not understand this. Watching, crimson red blood dripping down his dead child's face. Every drop of blood onto the stone floor rang a tragic tune that canceled out all the other noise
Tenniss fell hard on his knees, sobbing and weeping.
As his will to keep fighting weakened and spirit withered, he could not hold down the flood of tears. He collapsed into a ball. He was alone with the rest of his men fighting on different parts of the wall and his lifeless son slowly sliding down onto the floor. Lying on the cold stone floor, his face growing humid with tears soaking down to the cheeks and he was suffering from an unbearable headache. Suddenly, the boy fell onto the floor beside his weeping father. Not even reacting, he instinctively began to croon the death song, the ceremonial cry croon for their fallen.
He slipped his brittle fingers into a pouch fixed onto his pants. He pulled out from it one obol coin. Letting his shaky hand fall softly on his son's lifeless, cold lips, he put the coin into his mouth with bitter tears dripping off of his face.
The growing pandemonium in the background alerted Tenniss, forcing the grieving father back to his feet. He lost his son but he still had his duty, and as commander, leaving his men abandoned would be a dishonor. He struggled to his feet, his mind racing and his palms cold and sweaty. Seeing that there were no arrows coming his way, he lifted his bow along with an arrow.
Sebastian's blood was all over Tenniss's body and dripped from the elbows and large, bushy brown beard. The bowstring too became covered in blood as he tugged it back with his left hand which still shook miserably. But he found it increasingly difficult to see past the walls of briny tears.
He wiped his eyes and afterward stared down below him. Looking below came with a disheartening realization. Among the hoard of possibly thousands of Deathknights, their casualties that he noticed did not even amount in the double digits. He only saw six fallen Deathknights amongst what he undoubtedly believed to be thousands. He gradually came to the realization that their efforts to stop the Deathknights would not lie with their wooden arrows.
He began to wonder just which side the Gate Bearers were on in this battle: the winning or the losing side. Acknowledging the threatening powers of these seemingly otherworldly beings below him, he raced out of his enclosed region of the curtain wall to the other parts. While running across the many compartments of the wall, he examined the efforts other Gate Bearers while keeping his head down. He ran past a series of open doors until he finally entered into the main room. He withdrew his key and plugged it into the keyhole of the door and swiftly allowed the dim room to engulf him.
The main room, also referred to as the unit room, was the room centered high above the gate that stored the main weapons meant for defending the wall. There were glass panels on the walls and behind every panel was a sole thick rope that held together smaller ropes that were interconnected with its own distinct trap, each with a special symbol that the every commanding Gate Bearer such as Tenniss had to learn.
As the commanding Gate Bearer in the Mesfirian Kingdom of Sindirin, he alone had exclusive access to the main room except in the event of his death.
The main room only had square holes on the wall which allowed light into the room during the day. Tenniss stared through one of the square openings in the wall that was too small for even a child to fit into. He could hear the terror of his men. He, too, began to gasp as he watched the Deathknights advance closer while peeking past the hole. The land was filled with them. Fire, dust and more fire...that's all else the humans could see. Attempts at beating back the Deathknights began seeming more futile. The growing rain made it more difficult for the people to see.
While trying to light candles, he picked up from the top of a cabinet inside of the room, he shook whenever he heard screaming coming from his fellow Gate Bearers. Hearing more agonized bellows, he swiftly escaped out of the main room to assess their progress and check on them.
The walls were stained red with pudgy blood. Zambodian arrows were stuck deep inside lifeless bodies. One man bled profusely as he gasped sullenly for any bit of air he could still force his throat to pull.
Believing there was still a chance to save the dying man's life, Tenniss crawled toward the man hurriedly. He worked his way through the bodies and red puddles. He desperately squeezed his lips against his nose to try and withstand the repugnant odors that rose from the bodies.
Tenniss finally crawled all the way down to where the man sat gasping. He held him up and stared into his eyes. But his eyes closed shut with more tears squeezing through. The man had already passed on to the afterlife. He reached into his pouch and slipped the coin into his mouth too. He crawled back to the main room, leaving coins in each of their mouths while crooning the death song.
Tenniss sighed and spoke under his malodorous breath.
"I am sorry..." he said glumly.
His old heart was beating through his chest. He crawled faster and faster as the adrenaline filled his pulsating veins. He was much faster and far agiler than he had been in some time. He made it back into the shelter of the main room and slammed the door shut. He grabbed the ax which was settled on two hooks on one of the walls of the room and sprinted back to peek through a hole. The Deathknights were avoiding the several berms that were dug specifically in the event of disrupting any large drove of attackers.
The Deathknights were almost at the gate. They would collide within seconds. The exchange of arrows on the human's side slowly depleted but was still ongoing. Tenniss only lost a few men. However, fewer men only dwindled their odds of defending their country against those beasts who charged so valiantly upon their walls.
Far across this particular part of the wall where Tenniss was a prevalent number of reinforcements who rushed to the top of the wall. Their intentions were to shoot the Deathknights into the several berms which were scattered around the areas where the Freelands and the Sindirin country met. They were filled with the kingdom's sewage and other bacterial wastes, and each was roughly five meters deep. But only a few Deathknights and they beast many of them rode upon fell inside those ditches.
The Deathknights crashed into the surface of the curtain walls. Those reinforcements were completely caught off guard, for they had never prepared to do battle with Deathknights especially ones possessing bows and arrows. The wall was in complete disarray. Gate Bearer and soldier alike were running around and shooting arrows desperately. But, the denizens of the Mesfirian Kingdom had already been evacuated, so that was one worry off of their minds. They had not known how long they'd been battling for, the passing of time felt as one unending spew of pain and terror.
Tenniss, hearing several footsteps, opened the door and saw several reinforcements. He told them of what he intended to do and went back inside of the room. He felt he had no other choice but to utilize one of the panels, for the Deathknights were crashing against the strong sturdy double doors, the only thing barring their entry into the nation. He lifted open one panel with a gray spear symbol printed on the glass cover. He used the specialized ax to cut through the rope which had some rigidity to it.
A downpour of broad and sizeable stone spears came descending from a veiled rectangular block that hung over the double door gates. The spears plummeted in vast numbers on top of the Deathknights, shattering into pieces upon contact with the earth. The gate was now blocked with Deathknights trapped under stones.
The rope continued to unfasten, unleashing more broad stone spears that came declining down in rapid succession. Yet, there were still too many of them charging for the gate. They rallied in large numbers in front of the curtain wall, still shooting out numerous arrows at the remaining humans.
Acknowledging that there was more to be done, Tenniss retreated back to cut loose another panel. Understanding that the Deathknights were very close, he rushed for one particular panel which had the image of a sole water droplet on its surface. He opened the panel and began cutting at the rope that was behind it. Upon doing so, a small deluge of torrid water poured down from large rectangular slits in the wall which opened up. Boiling water surged all over the ground. The searing waves washed against the land as it poured out from the singed torrid tanks containing the water within the wall. Upon initial encounter with the ardent waves, the Deathknights shrieked, their coarse voices inhuman and ghastly. The flames that resided within their armor died out and their armor rusted and condensed.
The Deathknights that managed to avoid the boiling water receded from their stances and scattered further out. They began to scream war cries valiantly with their bows and large, black swords raised high into the air.
"Gods!" Tenniss's voice lifted in terror.
Would these beasts ever stop? He questioned internally. His fingers were twitching.
The unharmed Deathknights scattered to further distances. The water, which initially undulated and dispersed rapidly all across the land, soon leveled lower and withered down in the earth. The vengeful wave submerged what Tenniss eyed up to be at the very least one hundred Deathknights. He smiled.
However, through one of the square holes, he saw them trampling back over the thinned waters.
Tenniss, however, was not too overcome with fear but rather with an unshakable sense of duty. He rushed back into the main room, intent on using another panel with the water symbol on them. There were three left.
Abruptly, far in the burning Colossal Snowpeak Woods, Tenniss heard these loud and menacing thuds. These heavy thuds grew quite frequent, bringing about a baleful feeling into his teetering heart.
VikingsThe discord grew.The kingdom's gate began to shake.The curtain wall rumbled.Everything below became oppressed by an ominous black, cementing the dismal reality of this morose day. High in the sky were these colossal figures which flew down past the raining azure, eclipsing the little sunshine that still lingered. All the while, those mysterious thuds in the distance grew more and more loud and intimidating. Tenniss could hardly see past the hole. He rushed out of the room and looked up at the sky. His eyes widened and his jaw stretched agape in astonishment along with this unshakable and dominating sense of dismay that constricted him."Shadowbirds!" Tenniss shrieked with dismay, his dry bones vibrating underneath his numbed flesh. He had thought his vision was deceiving him, due to his age but they had not and he knew it. What he was witnessing now was fleets of enormous Shadowbirds that appeared to him almost as a sea of monotonous black.The other Gate Bearers wailed as
Maddened.Maddard's heart nearly leaped from his chest, his shaky ribs were hardly able to contain the soft red muscle. Every sensation in his being was overtaken by a ghastly amalgam of confusion and horror.A black suit of armor of Herculean proportion consumed utterly in hellfire and black fumes careened through the blazing forest behind their home and with a mighty leap, its mountainous body soared several yards. Maddard stood stupefied. There was not a word coursing through his mind that could rationalize what he was seeing. It was so large he could hardly make out its face. The mere sight of it caused him to stand paralyzed with fear. His mind was screaming for him to run, but his body was mute.To witness such a beast existing in the same plane, the same world, as himself was enough to steal his sense of significance and surrogate it with an unfatiguing, never-ending, and perverse sense of inferiority that was never again to leave his side until he was no drier and emptier than
Monarch, In Brynhild, Capital of the Sindirin EmpireIt was the year eight hundred forty-three and something peculiar was happening in the old country of Sindirin.Thee fresh northern skies mixed evenly with both warm and wintry colors, a brilliant magenta sky shimmering harmoniously with the stars until they stilled into one soft union, creating a calm magenta sky. However, just below this azure was the great and ancient capital, Brynhild, where calmness could not be said the same for. The ceaseless shuffling of feet, cheerful chats and enthused dancing ravished every inch of this bustling town. Lanterns were posted down every street and pathway by the soldiers who, too, shared in on the festivities and gaiety.Crowds upon crowds of people joined together in droves, all beaming at the mouths with toothy smiles that extended ear to ear, a sentiment that swept through all of the capital like some sort of contagion. Mugs and chalices which were filled to the brim with either rum or red
Embrace, Outside the Brynhild capital."Aye! Gate Bearers!" The Gate Ringer, the man who kept watch atop the wall, screamed loudly while shaking a brass bell in one of his hands. From several sections of the wall came busting out with Gate Bearers, all fierce in appearance, with bows and quivers locked into the curves of their glove-covered fingers. Their faces were lined with grave worry and sanded down with urgency.Armored men and women upon ironclad war horses had approached the gate. Their numbers were likely in the hundreds. They looked like soldiers and their colors were that of Ereignfall-red, blue, and white. The Gate Bearers took notice of that and even made out the sigil of the eagle which was being held by some of the soldiers. The distance from atop the wall to the ground was fairly large but the soldiers were shouting loudly, loudly enough for the Gate Bearers to hear. There was this panicky dread in their coarse yells. The men atop the wall understood that these were so
Maddened.Maddard's heart nearly leaped from his chest, his shaky ribs were hardly able to contain the soft red muscle. Every sensation in his being was overtaken by a ghastly amalgam of confusion and horror.A black suit of armor of Herculean proportion consumed utterly in hellfire and black fumes careened through the blazing forest behind their home and with a mighty leap, its mountainous body soared several yards. Maddard stood stupefied. There was not a word coursing through his mind that could rationalize what he was seeing. It was so large he could hardly make out its face. The mere sight of it caused him to stand paralyzed with fear. His mind was screaming for him to run, but his body was mute.To witness such a beast existing in the same plane, the same world, as himself was enough to steal his sense of significance and surrogate it with an unfatiguing, never-ending, and perverse sense of inferiority that was never again to leave his side until he was no drier and emptier than
VikingsThe discord grew.The kingdom's gate began to shake.The curtain wall rumbled.Everything below became oppressed by an ominous black, cementing the dismal reality of this morose day. High in the sky were these colossal figures which flew down past the raining azure, eclipsing the little sunshine that still lingered. All the while, those mysterious thuds in the distance grew more and more loud and intimidating. Tenniss could hardly see past the hole. He rushed out of the room and looked up at the sky. His eyes widened and his jaw stretched agape in astonishment along with this unshakable and dominating sense of dismay that constricted him."Shadowbirds!" Tenniss shrieked with dismay, his dry bones vibrating underneath his numbed flesh. He had thought his vision was deceiving him, due to his age but they had not and he knew it. What he was witnessing now was fleets of enormous Shadowbirds that appeared to him almost as a sea of monotonous black.The other Gate Bearers wailed as
Vikings, Near the outer wall at the Mesfirian Kingdom.War cries from Deathknights rang out menacingly in the Colossal Snowpeak Woods."Gate Bearers! Soldiers! Prepare yourselves! The Deathknights are upon us!" One of the Ereignfall soldiers shouted, his veins pumping with hot red blood.He was nervous. The Gate Bearers and soldiers were nervous. They watched as the forest in the distance was becoming more and more engulfed by scorching hot fire and smoke.Trails of smoke, fire, destruction followed in the wake of those ghastly entities as they charged from our of the forest and into the open pasture. They were large fiery bodies of armor fashioned and interworked by otherworldly sorcery, an ominous collection of wrathful, sentient beings."Ready your bows! Under no circumstance can we allow them into Sindirin!" A Gate Bearer who went by the name of Tenniss Everwood shouted at the peak of lungs to his soldiers on the other parts of the wall!The Gate Bearers dipped the tips of their a
Embrace, Outside the Brynhild capital."Aye! Gate Bearers!" The Gate Ringer, the man who kept watch atop the wall, screamed loudly while shaking a brass bell in one of his hands. From several sections of the wall came busting out with Gate Bearers, all fierce in appearance, with bows and quivers locked into the curves of their glove-covered fingers. Their faces were lined with grave worry and sanded down with urgency.Armored men and women upon ironclad war horses had approached the gate. Their numbers were likely in the hundreds. They looked like soldiers and their colors were that of Ereignfall-red, blue, and white. The Gate Bearers took notice of that and even made out the sigil of the eagle which was being held by some of the soldiers. The distance from atop the wall to the ground was fairly large but the soldiers were shouting loudly, loudly enough for the Gate Bearers to hear. There was this panicky dread in their coarse yells. The men atop the wall understood that these were so
Monarch, In Brynhild, Capital of the Sindirin EmpireIt was the year eight hundred forty-three and something peculiar was happening in the old country of Sindirin.Thee fresh northern skies mixed evenly with both warm and wintry colors, a brilliant magenta sky shimmering harmoniously with the stars until they stilled into one soft union, creating a calm magenta sky. However, just below this azure was the great and ancient capital, Brynhild, where calmness could not be said the same for. The ceaseless shuffling of feet, cheerful chats and enthused dancing ravished every inch of this bustling town. Lanterns were posted down every street and pathway by the soldiers who, too, shared in on the festivities and gaiety.Crowds upon crowds of people joined together in droves, all beaming at the mouths with toothy smiles that extended ear to ear, a sentiment that swept through all of the capital like some sort of contagion. Mugs and chalices which were filled to the brim with either rum or red