Post by Yoshiko on Jan 9, 2006 23:59:16 GMT -5
It's not really a fanfic, not really at all. But I was told by Yoshiken it should go here. YEAH, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
Anyways, you deserve a prologue. Happy birfday.
Long ago, Four Kingdoms, Xiovi of the North, Darleanna of the West, Falthalym of the South, and Tal'Salym of the East all ruled peacefully together in the continent of Amaria.
Xiovi, the Kingdom of Ice, a beautiful crystalline land, ruled by King Valor III, and Queen Amara, with their daughter, Alana. It housed the two legendary Twin Weapons The Crystal Sword, a sword of natural make, and Ithulduir, a sword of Elven craft.
Darleanna, the Kingdom of Fire, a scorching land of forests and deserts, ruled by King Malifus, and Queen Eras, with their son Lance. It housed the two legendary Twin Swords, Esperanza, a mythical broadsword of Mythril, and Erstatz, a rapier with the sharpest point in the continent of Amaria.
Falthalym, the Kingdom of Wind, a beautiful land composed of planes, and small forests, ruled by King Tusmus II, and Queen Maria, with their son Matthias and daughter, Tana. It housed the two legendary Twin Weapons, Vishnu the Holy Lance, and the Crescent Bow, of unknown origins.
Tal'Salym, the Kingdom of Earth, a rocky, mountainous region, ruled by King Huigar, and Queen Faimure, childless. It housed the two legendary Twin Weapons, Narm, the Devil Axe, and the Opal Dagger, a weapon that not a soul had ever been able to touch.
All was well with the Kingdoms. Well, aside from the growing hunger desired by Azreal, another Prince of Darleanna -- Lance's twin brother, in fact. He was to rule Tal'Salym, due to the fact that King Huigar, and Queen Faimure could not bear children of their own.
However, ruling only Tal'Salym was simply not enough for Azreal. He wanted more, and in his attempt to get it, he murdered his mother and father, and attempted at Lance, but was fortunately, unsuccessful. Azreal, for the time being, retreated to his kingdom, Tal'Salym, and killed the King and Queen there as well, with swift and graceful accuracy.
Lance sought help in his situation with his power-hungry sibling. He left to visit Matthias and Tana, to seek Falthalym's aid in a war between Darleanna, and Tal'Salym.
Unfortunately, the forces Lance left to secure Darleanna were nothing to Azreal. He crushed the forces there, and claimed Darleanna for his own.
Now Lance wants it back.
Now Azreal wants war.
Now, for the real first chapter. Here y'ar! ((If it's too graphic, tell me, or just close this topic down. I know it's a bit violent, but, come on... >___>))
The wind blew relentlessly. Trees were bending and cracking, and popping all round. The birds could not fly, for fear of being dragged off in the violently speeding windstorm. Animals retreated to their dens, underground, and in hollow trees alike, hoping to find shelter from the horrid gusts of now putrid smelling air. And the people of Dramoor retreated to their homes for safety.
Lightning flashed, splitting the sky in numerous areas, forking off in thundering blasts of electricity. But, no matter, seeing that the people had retreated to their homes. One stood out in the powerful blasts of noxious air, walking on still.
It appeared to be a man, wrapped up tight in a black, raggedy, old cloak, which billowed all around him with every new gust of wind. Little was visible of him, and what was, seemed to look as though it were in pain. Crimson red hair covered half of his face, and one deep, azure blue eye was visible. On his feet were old, worn in brown, low-cut boots, and on his hands, two thin, black half-gloves, white diamonds in their centers', his fingers white at the knuckles where they were grasping the cloak to keep from flying away.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the winds stopped, and the man followed suit. Before him stood a castle, the castle he'd been journeying so long for. This was it.
He was home.
Guards greeted him at the front of the castle, and they immediately took notice of whom he was. They lifted their spears to allow him through. Through the corridor he walked, up one flight of stairs, then another. He walked down one more hall, and through a large, heavy oak pair of wooden doors. There, at the back of the room sat an empty throne, what should have rightfully been his.
Yes, should have been rightfully his. But, his twin brother had to show up at the moment he was about to take the golden throne.
And, as he approached his throne, another man, looking identical to the other, appeared.
“Lance, it's been too long.” The one at the throne said to the cloaked walker. His voice was soft, kind, and seemed to be toying with Lance.
“Too short, if you ask me, Azreal. Give me the crown. The throne is rightfully mine.” His voice was cold, un-toying, much unlike Azreal's had been.
“You'll have to take it from me, older brother. You know, I always wanted to rule. Shouldn't you be generous and let me take control? I could whip this place into such a wonderful kingdom!” Azreal smiled, holding a small crown in his right hand, and rapier appearing in the other. Static flew around it, coursing through the blade and air. “And you always wanted this, too, didn't you?” He held up the rapier, and smiled at it. “Erstatz, the Thundering Rapier. Such… Power!”
Flames sparkled around Lance, and another sword appeared in his left hand, although it was much different than the rapier, and gave off an intense heat, and fire to boot. “I never wanted Erstatz. Esperanza was enough for me.” And, without warning, Lance was gone, behind Azreal, holding the hot blade to his neck. “Give me the crown. Now.”
Azreal wouldn't stand for that. He twirled Erstatz in his hand, and allowed himself to bring it back, thrust the blade towards his twin.
But Lance was too quick, and Azreal, far too slow. There Lance was again, the blade against Azreal's neck, but this time, it had been cut.
The blood leaked out quickly, and Lance bent down to pick up the small crown. He placed it upon his head, where it rested comfortably, and the emeralds, rubies, and other valuable gemstones gleamed in place with the gold of the crown.
And finally, he took his seat upon the throne. It was over, but so easily?
Esperanza, The Flaming Blade lay on his left, and Erstatz the Thundering Blade, lay on his right. It appeared so easily to be over.
But then a maniacal, strange laughter pierced the still air. Lance looked around the entire room quickly, but saw no one. Standing, he began walking around the entire area, and it wasn't until he opened the door, and saw no one, was he pleased. Closing the doors, and turning back to face the throne, his eyes were met by his twin brother, in one hand, Erstatz, in the other, Narm, the Devil Axe.
The Axe cut across Lance like a hot knife through butter, and Erstatz met the poor boy's heart.
He fell to the floor, where he lay, until Narm met his body once more, and cleaved him in half, devouring his soul.
“Older brother, how many times must I tell you that the throne is mine? You shan’t interfere any longer, though. Poor you.” Azreal grinned, and allowed himself to sit upon the throne once more. To him, he felt on top of the world now, his older twin out of the way, and he, Azreal, ruler of the East and the West. It had been that easy!
Now all he had to do was clean up the mess of his brother on the floor, and be on his merry way. Of course, a bit of Lance’s old forces would try to regain the throne and find the next King, but Azreal would have no trouble at all. A mere soldier was an ant to him!
As the younger twin sat on the throne contemplating his possible moves on strategy to take Falthalym and Xiovi, there was a slight change of temperature in the room. Well, slight would be a bit of an understatement. The temperature grew unbearably hot and moist, Azreal’s clothing clinging to his skin.
“What kind of magic be this, brother? A death-charm, all ready to go when I murdered you?” But no, it was no death-charm. A Phoenix burst into the room, it’s crest burning intensely with the flames of a thousand fires, and its wings reflecting the colors of the rainbow. “A Phoenix!? Preposterous! You never owned one of your own!” He stood, and pulled Erstatz from its sacred holder. But, before Azreal had the chance to slay the legendary bird, a blinding yellow light seared through the room and his mind, burning the evil he held within his heart.
When the light had subsided, Lance was whole, although still on the ground, in a pool of his own blood. Beside him lay a still Phoenix, and Azreal was crumpled in a heap on the throne, moaning in pain.
Azreal was not the only one moaning and groaning; an occasional moan emanated from Lance’s still body. Slowly, he sat up, and noticed the dead Phoenix beside him, and even though it had been dead for some time, its body was still blistering hot.
“Fally? Fally, thank you.” Lance had only just recently got Fally, his pet Phoenix, on a trip to Xiovi. It had been found stranded and wounded. The people there took it in, and sent it to Darleanna, Kingdom of the Phoenix of the West with Lance.
“Lance!” Azreal shouted, standing up from the throne. “You were dead! Why are you standing? Why are you breathing!?” The ferocious yells of the young twin rang out through the castle, leaving a low echo.
“Azreal, it’s over. Just stop your reign of terror! We’ll find the closest nobles to the position of King and Queen, and let them take over Tal’Salym! We can end it now, Azreal! Please!” Lance pleaded with his brother, but to no avail. Azreal merely turned his head up at his brother, and smirked.
“I’ll see you later, Lance. I’ve things to attend to in Tal’Salym. My people need me. At least I’m there for them when the time arises.” And with that, the Shadowy Figure disappeared, leaving only a puff of smoke behind him. Outside, the wind that had continued shortly after Lance entered the castle, stopped abruptly, although the effects of it still lasted: trees were bent and fallen, animals scared, hiding away in the safety of their dens, along with the people of Darleanna.
And Lance stood, still as stone, in the throne room. Finally, deciding the time had come for war, he turned, to let the citizens of his Kingdom know.
Yes, his Kingdom.
Back outside, the people had begun to creep out of their homes cautiously, hoping the rightful ruler had returned. A large commotion started up among them, people calling out to friends and loved ones; there was one in the crowd that didn’t have someone to talk with, which of course, wasn’t necessarily bad.
“My people!” A voice rang out in the bustling air, from high up. There stood Lance on the roof of Castle Darleanna, with one beside him, that none of the citizens knew. “The Kingdom of Darleanna is safe for now! Worry not about I, or the situation we are in. I fear though, that the time has come, for war among the Kingdoms, and against my brother in Tal’Salym, mainly. Mostly, I fear for you, so I will leave one of my best elites here with you, and a small squadron of soldiers. Also, I know of a few warriors in the village who’re more than capable of defending the town! Fighters, you know who you are! Do not let the foe intimidate you!” Once the Prince had finished with his speech, the people let out a loud, joyful cry of hope and wishes.
Yet, wishes and hope was not enough.
“And now, my people, I will allow my Elite Soldier, Kenneth Valkyrie, to give a speech, and reassure you that nothing is wrong.” Lance explained to them, as he gestured to the man standing beside him. At this point, Kenneth stepped forward, saluting to the people below him. To them, he must have looked something fierce. He even frightened Lance at times., with his cold, green eyes. Light brown hair was covered with a small war helmet made of steel, glinting in the sun. Kenneth wore a brown tunic, the lower half of it swaying in the weak breezes of summer. Mythril war boots covered his shins, and silvery chain-mail pants covered what his boots didn’t. Since his tunic didn’t provide ample protection, (or appeared not to) he wore silver gauntlets up to his elbows.
“Dramoor!” His bold voice called out. “My troops and I don’t fear the enemy! You should not either. With the soldiers and I left to protect you, there is nothing that can harm you.” Kenneth was indeed a bold youth, the youngest Elite in the army. Currently, he was only twenty-three years of age, although, older than the twenty-year-old prince. Kenneth Valkyrie, or Ken, as many liked to call him, made it into the army as an Elite at the age of sixteen.
“Now, all I ask is your assistance in aiding our fight against Tal’Salym. Warriors of the village, join us, and protect the village! Everyone else… Do whatever you may do best!” Ken commanded, and with a step back, the audience cheered wildly once more, throwing their hands in the air and giving a loud ‘huzzah!’ of joy.
“Thank you, Kenneth.” Lance told him, back inside the castle on their way to the village.
“Milord, please, I need no thanks. Protecting the people is thanks enough.” Kenneth smiled to his Prince, and gave him a pat on the back. “I’ll see you before you leave, Prince Lance. I want to see the family before I head out of the city area.”
“Very well, Ken. I’ll see you later, then.” Lance said weakly as Kenneth departed. The Elite waved back to the Twin Prince as he left, and then the Lord walked back through the doorway of the Castle. He left for his room immediately, to take a long rest. Tomorrow would be a long day.
The storm was only beginning.
Anyways, you deserve a prologue. Happy birfday.
The Shadow of the East ~ Prologue
Long ago, Four Kingdoms, Xiovi of the North, Darleanna of the West, Falthalym of the South, and Tal'Salym of the East all ruled peacefully together in the continent of Amaria.
Xiovi, the Kingdom of Ice, a beautiful crystalline land, ruled by King Valor III, and Queen Amara, with their daughter, Alana. It housed the two legendary Twin Weapons The Crystal Sword, a sword of natural make, and Ithulduir, a sword of Elven craft.
Darleanna, the Kingdom of Fire, a scorching land of forests and deserts, ruled by King Malifus, and Queen Eras, with their son Lance. It housed the two legendary Twin Swords, Esperanza, a mythical broadsword of Mythril, and Erstatz, a rapier with the sharpest point in the continent of Amaria.
Falthalym, the Kingdom of Wind, a beautiful land composed of planes, and small forests, ruled by King Tusmus II, and Queen Maria, with their son Matthias and daughter, Tana. It housed the two legendary Twin Weapons, Vishnu the Holy Lance, and the Crescent Bow, of unknown origins.
Tal'Salym, the Kingdom of Earth, a rocky, mountainous region, ruled by King Huigar, and Queen Faimure, childless. It housed the two legendary Twin Weapons, Narm, the Devil Axe, and the Opal Dagger, a weapon that not a soul had ever been able to touch.
All was well with the Kingdoms. Well, aside from the growing hunger desired by Azreal, another Prince of Darleanna -- Lance's twin brother, in fact. He was to rule Tal'Salym, due to the fact that King Huigar, and Queen Faimure could not bear children of their own.
However, ruling only Tal'Salym was simply not enough for Azreal. He wanted more, and in his attempt to get it, he murdered his mother and father, and attempted at Lance, but was fortunately, unsuccessful. Azreal, for the time being, retreated to his kingdom, Tal'Salym, and killed the King and Queen there as well, with swift and graceful accuracy.
Lance sought help in his situation with his power-hungry sibling. He left to visit Matthias and Tana, to seek Falthalym's aid in a war between Darleanna, and Tal'Salym.
Unfortunately, the forces Lance left to secure Darleanna were nothing to Azreal. He crushed the forces there, and claimed Darleanna for his own.
Now Lance wants it back.
Now Azreal wants war.
Now, for the real first chapter. Here y'ar! ((If it's too graphic, tell me, or just close this topic down. I know it's a bit violent, but, come on... >___>))
The Shadow of the East: Chapter One ~ The Eye of the Storm
The wind blew relentlessly. Trees were bending and cracking, and popping all round. The birds could not fly, for fear of being dragged off in the violently speeding windstorm. Animals retreated to their dens, underground, and in hollow trees alike, hoping to find shelter from the horrid gusts of now putrid smelling air. And the people of Dramoor retreated to their homes for safety.
Lightning flashed, splitting the sky in numerous areas, forking off in thundering blasts of electricity. But, no matter, seeing that the people had retreated to their homes. One stood out in the powerful blasts of noxious air, walking on still.
It appeared to be a man, wrapped up tight in a black, raggedy, old cloak, which billowed all around him with every new gust of wind. Little was visible of him, and what was, seemed to look as though it were in pain. Crimson red hair covered half of his face, and one deep, azure blue eye was visible. On his feet were old, worn in brown, low-cut boots, and on his hands, two thin, black half-gloves, white diamonds in their centers', his fingers white at the knuckles where they were grasping the cloak to keep from flying away.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the winds stopped, and the man followed suit. Before him stood a castle, the castle he'd been journeying so long for. This was it.
He was home.
Guards greeted him at the front of the castle, and they immediately took notice of whom he was. They lifted their spears to allow him through. Through the corridor he walked, up one flight of stairs, then another. He walked down one more hall, and through a large, heavy oak pair of wooden doors. There, at the back of the room sat an empty throne, what should have rightfully been his.
Yes, should have been rightfully his. But, his twin brother had to show up at the moment he was about to take the golden throne.
And, as he approached his throne, another man, looking identical to the other, appeared.
“Lance, it's been too long.” The one at the throne said to the cloaked walker. His voice was soft, kind, and seemed to be toying with Lance.
“Too short, if you ask me, Azreal. Give me the crown. The throne is rightfully mine.” His voice was cold, un-toying, much unlike Azreal's had been.
“You'll have to take it from me, older brother. You know, I always wanted to rule. Shouldn't you be generous and let me take control? I could whip this place into such a wonderful kingdom!” Azreal smiled, holding a small crown in his right hand, and rapier appearing in the other. Static flew around it, coursing through the blade and air. “And you always wanted this, too, didn't you?” He held up the rapier, and smiled at it. “Erstatz, the Thundering Rapier. Such… Power!”
Flames sparkled around Lance, and another sword appeared in his left hand, although it was much different than the rapier, and gave off an intense heat, and fire to boot. “I never wanted Erstatz. Esperanza was enough for me.” And, without warning, Lance was gone, behind Azreal, holding the hot blade to his neck. “Give me the crown. Now.”
Azreal wouldn't stand for that. He twirled Erstatz in his hand, and allowed himself to bring it back, thrust the blade towards his twin.
But Lance was too quick, and Azreal, far too slow. There Lance was again, the blade against Azreal's neck, but this time, it had been cut.
The blood leaked out quickly, and Lance bent down to pick up the small crown. He placed it upon his head, where it rested comfortably, and the emeralds, rubies, and other valuable gemstones gleamed in place with the gold of the crown.
And finally, he took his seat upon the throne. It was over, but so easily?
Esperanza, The Flaming Blade lay on his left, and Erstatz the Thundering Blade, lay on his right. It appeared so easily to be over.
But then a maniacal, strange laughter pierced the still air. Lance looked around the entire room quickly, but saw no one. Standing, he began walking around the entire area, and it wasn't until he opened the door, and saw no one, was he pleased. Closing the doors, and turning back to face the throne, his eyes were met by his twin brother, in one hand, Erstatz, in the other, Narm, the Devil Axe.
The Axe cut across Lance like a hot knife through butter, and Erstatz met the poor boy's heart.
He fell to the floor, where he lay, until Narm met his body once more, and cleaved him in half, devouring his soul.
“Older brother, how many times must I tell you that the throne is mine? You shan’t interfere any longer, though. Poor you.” Azreal grinned, and allowed himself to sit upon the throne once more. To him, he felt on top of the world now, his older twin out of the way, and he, Azreal, ruler of the East and the West. It had been that easy!
Now all he had to do was clean up the mess of his brother on the floor, and be on his merry way. Of course, a bit of Lance’s old forces would try to regain the throne and find the next King, but Azreal would have no trouble at all. A mere soldier was an ant to him!
As the younger twin sat on the throne contemplating his possible moves on strategy to take Falthalym and Xiovi, there was a slight change of temperature in the room. Well, slight would be a bit of an understatement. The temperature grew unbearably hot and moist, Azreal’s clothing clinging to his skin.
“What kind of magic be this, brother? A death-charm, all ready to go when I murdered you?” But no, it was no death-charm. A Phoenix burst into the room, it’s crest burning intensely with the flames of a thousand fires, and its wings reflecting the colors of the rainbow. “A Phoenix!? Preposterous! You never owned one of your own!” He stood, and pulled Erstatz from its sacred holder. But, before Azreal had the chance to slay the legendary bird, a blinding yellow light seared through the room and his mind, burning the evil he held within his heart.
When the light had subsided, Lance was whole, although still on the ground, in a pool of his own blood. Beside him lay a still Phoenix, and Azreal was crumpled in a heap on the throne, moaning in pain.
Azreal was not the only one moaning and groaning; an occasional moan emanated from Lance’s still body. Slowly, he sat up, and noticed the dead Phoenix beside him, and even though it had been dead for some time, its body was still blistering hot.
“Fally? Fally, thank you.” Lance had only just recently got Fally, his pet Phoenix, on a trip to Xiovi. It had been found stranded and wounded. The people there took it in, and sent it to Darleanna, Kingdom of the Phoenix of the West with Lance.
“Lance!” Azreal shouted, standing up from the throne. “You were dead! Why are you standing? Why are you breathing!?” The ferocious yells of the young twin rang out through the castle, leaving a low echo.
“Azreal, it’s over. Just stop your reign of terror! We’ll find the closest nobles to the position of King and Queen, and let them take over Tal’Salym! We can end it now, Azreal! Please!” Lance pleaded with his brother, but to no avail. Azreal merely turned his head up at his brother, and smirked.
“I’ll see you later, Lance. I’ve things to attend to in Tal’Salym. My people need me. At least I’m there for them when the time arises.” And with that, the Shadowy Figure disappeared, leaving only a puff of smoke behind him. Outside, the wind that had continued shortly after Lance entered the castle, stopped abruptly, although the effects of it still lasted: trees were bent and fallen, animals scared, hiding away in the safety of their dens, along with the people of Darleanna.
And Lance stood, still as stone, in the throne room. Finally, deciding the time had come for war, he turned, to let the citizens of his Kingdom know.
Yes, his Kingdom.
Back outside, the people had begun to creep out of their homes cautiously, hoping the rightful ruler had returned. A large commotion started up among them, people calling out to friends and loved ones; there was one in the crowd that didn’t have someone to talk with, which of course, wasn’t necessarily bad.
“My people!” A voice rang out in the bustling air, from high up. There stood Lance on the roof of Castle Darleanna, with one beside him, that none of the citizens knew. “The Kingdom of Darleanna is safe for now! Worry not about I, or the situation we are in. I fear though, that the time has come, for war among the Kingdoms, and against my brother in Tal’Salym, mainly. Mostly, I fear for you, so I will leave one of my best elites here with you, and a small squadron of soldiers. Also, I know of a few warriors in the village who’re more than capable of defending the town! Fighters, you know who you are! Do not let the foe intimidate you!” Once the Prince had finished with his speech, the people let out a loud, joyful cry of hope and wishes.
Yet, wishes and hope was not enough.
“And now, my people, I will allow my Elite Soldier, Kenneth Valkyrie, to give a speech, and reassure you that nothing is wrong.” Lance explained to them, as he gestured to the man standing beside him. At this point, Kenneth stepped forward, saluting to the people below him. To them, he must have looked something fierce. He even frightened Lance at times., with his cold, green eyes. Light brown hair was covered with a small war helmet made of steel, glinting in the sun. Kenneth wore a brown tunic, the lower half of it swaying in the weak breezes of summer. Mythril war boots covered his shins, and silvery chain-mail pants covered what his boots didn’t. Since his tunic didn’t provide ample protection, (or appeared not to) he wore silver gauntlets up to his elbows.
“Dramoor!” His bold voice called out. “My troops and I don’t fear the enemy! You should not either. With the soldiers and I left to protect you, there is nothing that can harm you.” Kenneth was indeed a bold youth, the youngest Elite in the army. Currently, he was only twenty-three years of age, although, older than the twenty-year-old prince. Kenneth Valkyrie, or Ken, as many liked to call him, made it into the army as an Elite at the age of sixteen.
“Now, all I ask is your assistance in aiding our fight against Tal’Salym. Warriors of the village, join us, and protect the village! Everyone else… Do whatever you may do best!” Ken commanded, and with a step back, the audience cheered wildly once more, throwing their hands in the air and giving a loud ‘huzzah!’ of joy.
“Thank you, Kenneth.” Lance told him, back inside the castle on their way to the village.
“Milord, please, I need no thanks. Protecting the people is thanks enough.” Kenneth smiled to his Prince, and gave him a pat on the back. “I’ll see you before you leave, Prince Lance. I want to see the family before I head out of the city area.”
“Very well, Ken. I’ll see you later, then.” Lance said weakly as Kenneth departed. The Elite waved back to the Twin Prince as he left, and then the Lord walked back through the doorway of the Castle. He left for his room immediately, to take a long rest. Tomorrow would be a long day.
The storm was only beginning.
