Zadown Posted October 25, 2002 Report Posted October 25, 2002 Some written for me, some for others .. some good, some bad, some used, some never flew: Gates open up everywhere in your kingdom. Your troops run to defend your kingdom, and the deafening noise of war starts. Clashes of steel, screams of anguish, deep reverberating booms of distant spellfire - the music of destruction drowns you at first, then fades to the background as you turn your attention on your enemy. The battle rages on... ...and in the middle of it all, you see a single zombie walking through the melee, it's decaying limbs twitching, it's head rolling around. Not paying any notice to the chaos around it, it stops, crouches and with jerky motions takes a armful of your land. There is beauty in small things. ************************************* An eerie chant sneaks into your kingdom, both haunting and beautiful. All, living and dead, hear it and turn their head towards the sound. It is the Chant of the Earth, and you can feel your land shaking and trembling as it tries to shake itself free from your control. As you see the singers, an army of creatures of both light and darkness, you order your own army to attack. They hesistate, then attack. ************************************* A herald approaches. He stops some distance away and unfurls a message scroll. After looking at you, he clears his throat and starts to speak in a loud voice: "This message has been sent to notify you that I, Zadown Thamorglorn of the Legion, Knight of the Order of the Ancient Circle and a Lord by birthright, have noticed your attack on our member xxxx xxxxxxxxx at zzzzzzzzz, and I have decided to be the Retaliator in this incident. The Legion always counters - may the best mage win!" At the exact moment he finishes speaking, you hear the horns of warning from your border. The battle starts... ************************************* There she goes. And I know I'm going to lose her. Archangels, those brilliant children of light, always make the front line of my battles. Other mages say that it is not wise, that other creatures would often serve better, but I don't care. And so they carry my banner, the huge green flag with the symbolic hermit's staff and a white rose entwined on it. I choose the most beautiful of the angels, the prettiest white star, to be my standard bearer. She never survives. Thus, I always lose, in a way. Let's see if I win some, too. The noise is deafening. Deep booming of the spellfire, shrill inhuman screams of the rippers as they die and kill, loud chanting of the liches and vampires and fhoosh and zing of sprites flying faster than eyes can follow; all those weave a pattern of sounds that is too changing and vivid to just fade to background. Then one voice drowns them all - the ROAR of enraged dragon. One of your babies has just been wounded. I grin inside my visored helmet. ************************************* You sit in your favourite chair and browse half-heartedly through some spellbook bound in deep green leather. Green spells aren't really your main arsenal, but as a master of phantasmal magicks no speciality is useless to you. Then the alarm bells start to sound - and you go through amazement, shock, denial and anger in two seconds. Someone has the guts to attack you, lord of elemental powers, master of mental magics, archscryer and lord over both divine and dead!? Shaking your head in disbelief, you run outside, quickly donning your Official Blue Robes ™ on your way. From the tower of your central fortress you see your adversary - another blue. "Oh, well, that explains it..." you have time to think just before you start to shout commands to your units. ************************************* [A section of outer perimeter wall. A GUARD leans on his halberd and dozes. The night is quiet.] <Guard> ZZzzZzZzZZzzZzZzZ [Nothing happens for a long time. Then, an ARCHANGEL appears in the distance and flies closer.] <Guard> ZZzzZzZzZZzzZzZzZ <Archangel> Oh, thy servant of evil! Taste my holy steel, ye heathen! [Rises her holy sword.] <Guard> ZzZz.. eh? Umm? [Wakes up.] <Archangel> DIE! [Kills the still sleepy Guard with her sword.] <Guard> Gck! [Dies.] [The curtain closes. Behind it, SOUNDS OF BATTLE can be heard.] ************************************* You stand in your highest tower and gaze into the night, half just idling your time away, half seeking insight in all the small matters of taking care of a kingdom that trouble you. Dawn comes, and you turn your contemplating gaze upon it, still deep in your own thoughts. And so you don't notice for a while what's wrong - the brillian white sphere in the sky is not the Sun, it is a host of angels coming right at your kingdom! As you order the bells of alarm to be sounded, the opposing army changes it shape to a wedge and charges. ************************************* In a white room filled with ambient light, two players sit opposite each other, a table between them. The other is white as the room, an angelic creature who glows softly; the other a cadaverous creature of black and decay. The angel speaks first, it's voice augmented by notes of heavenly music: - White Demigod from Z14 to F23. The black creature is silent for a while, then it answers with dry, dead whisper: - Black Prophet from G23 to F23; I resist thy attempt to Rise the Demigod. The angel sighs and nods slightly to it's opponent. - If that is what you wish. White Archmage from B21 to D21; I challenge thy Black Archmage there. With that, it smiles. ************************************* There is some noise outside your fortress and you decide to go to have a look. After a while, you spot the source of this disturbances - a single angel pulling a cart and wielding a big bell. It walks closer, then when it is still 100 yards away it shakes it's bell making an awful clanging noise and shouts: "Bring out yer dead!". You grin in anticipation, thinking all the things you can do to a single angel, and wait. It walks fearlessly right next to you and stops. Then it looks at you with it's big blue eyes, sounds it's bell right next to your left ear making you cringe and shouts: "Bring it!" at your face. Before you have time to act, it whacks you over the head with the bell and grins as the rest of the army it belongs to rise from hiding from behind the nearest hill. ************************************* An army of white-clad creatures runs over the border of your kingdom. As you start to organize a counterattack, one of them walks quite calmly over to you and hands over some papers. You are stunned by the show of such stupid courage and just take them as he starts to speak in his angelic voice: "Greetings, m'lord. We are the White Rose Detoxication team, and we've heard you have some blood-soaked land here in your kingdom. Please do not interfere as we take some samples. Thank you, sir." He walks away. After a while, you regain your senses and attack. ************************************* They attacked, wave after wave after wave; radiant white haloes, wings of the color of the snow, eyes blue as ice, and they unmade your undead armies - and they sang as they did it, chanting a song of protection, a song of blessing: Your hand protects us From even greater evil Your hand covers our eyes Glides over the black sky Your hand plays the stars In their imagined orbits Your hand in reality Fascinates our dream to come back And your dark troops were unable to contain them. ************************************* You see the familiar sight: a flight of dragons heading towards your kingdom followed by supporting ground troops as the clanging noises of your alarm bells arouse your defenders from rest. Normally, you would just sigh, take your blade and go to lead your troops, but this time the dragonfear grips you, holds you down like a giant hand, and you can just stare at the leading dragon and it's rider: A white dragon with a saint raiding on it, whirling a cleric's mace around ... shifts to a black dragon whipped to greater speed by a devil .. and then to the familiar fiery red with an ordinary looking mage holding a broadsword. Then the fear looses it's grip on you and you rush to the battle... ************************************* The Sun is eclipsed and a darkness falls. That is the first and last sign that something is wrong; then wide streams of fire strike from above as the dragons start their bombardment. Amidst the chaos of fire and death you scream your defenders to look out for support troops, but after a while you realize that there aren't any - this is a battle fought in the skies above... ************************************* "'Twas a dark and silent night, yes it was. I was a young guard then, and I patrolled the walls of my Lord without a pause, proud of my new duty. Ah, and the sky was full of stars, not like these nights nowadays ... well, there I was, looking at those stars, when I noticed that some of them were disappearing. I first thought I was dreaming, but it was too cold and real for that, out there, so I went and sounded the alarm bells without asking my sergeant first .. and a good thing that I did - some of those holes in the sky were starting to look awfully lot like dragons, and some like chimeiras, and as the guards poured out to the walls it started: fire and magick struck our troops from above, and the night was painted red by flames and blood...." ************************************* You wake up to the noise of three different alarm bells. That startles you at once from deep sleep to full alertness, since you only have one bell. You rush to window and look out, and your keen senses tell you that something is wrong, very wrong - shadows and lights dance across the kingdom, making some places look like gloomy and evil and some others white and clean. It looks like three waves are sweeping through your country; darkness shows you visions of your lands as they would be if stained by evil, light paints beautiful pictures of good and pure land and in between a wave of normality and mundanity travels. Then the enemy attacks, their leader riding a dragon which is white, black and red at the same time, and you stop wondering. ************************************* As you await the enemy, you remember the cause of this all... ... the charge you commanded, rush of wind and sunlight gleaming in the blades and claws of your troops ... ... the chaos and the noise as the armies crashed into each other, the first sprays of red blood on white snow ... ... the dead and the dying, terrible sounds of the wounded ... ... you shake your head to clear it, to return to this day and moment, and as you do it you see the first ranks of the enemy: they are the ghosts from your memories, those killed by you and your army - insubstantial spectres carrying their fatal wounds with pride, their eyes burning with last, cold anger. The past, coming to haunt you. ************************************* Two armies stand in a frozen field, staring each other over the white trampled snow. The other army blends in the white snow, shiny white over shiny white; angels, knights and other warriors of the faith waiting with icy resolve - the other stands out as black on white, an army with no steaming breaths, army of the dead. The tension in the air seems tanglible. Then the general of the white army shouts a single holy word, wrecking chaos and destruction on the opposite side, and using that shout as their battle cry, the white army attacks: "Elbereth! For the honor of the lady! Elentári!" ************************************* You are at your desk, reading the usual reports of you kingdom, when a page enters carrying a scroll. - Uh, sire, this is the Sage's weather forecast; he said it is urgent. - Very well, then. You can read it to me while I concentrate on these reports. Page clears his throat and starts to read: "There are to be expected heavy Dragon Clouds coming in over the border, unleashing Rains of Fire and accompanied by Thunder and Lightning..." At that moment, you start to hear the booming sounds of a battle from outside. ************************************* The flames dance, as they do every night. They weave and jump, red, orange, yellow and white, and your guards watch, mesmerized, lacking anything better to do. But this time, the flames dance the dance of warning - they feel their brethen near, the creatures of elemental fire: Salamanders and Red Dragons, Hell Hounds and others... but no-one understands them. Not until it is too late. ************************************* from the darkness to the light fire illuminating all with hellish hue a battle in the night your kingdom's time is due ************************************* Fire rages across the battlefield and heat twists the air to new shapes; all is illuminated by white lances of plasma-hot dragonfire, sun is obscured by black ash clouds. This hell used to be your kingdom, but now it is transformed to a fresco of blood and flames - and the transformer is a mere boy, riding the largest of the invading dragons as well as any Dragon Knight you've ever seen. You wipe sweat off your forehead and rejoin the fray to keep the invader away. Another day, another battle. You cleave through the rank and file of enemy to engage the attacking archmage in a duel, as is customary to do. Blood colors your armor and the roars and bellows of summoned creatures almost make you deaf, but you carry on, unwavering. And finally face your enemy who drops from the back of his great dragon to meet you. You have time for one confusing thought " ... A MERE BOY?! ... ", then your young adversary draws his broadsword with one fluid motion and slashes at you, forcing you to hastily parry and take a step back. And the battle rages on. ************************************* Your army is dying by the minute. Reign of chaos is absolute here now; winged attackers against your defenders, claw versus sword, fire igniting warriors there, slippery blood pooling here. You have time only for shards of thoughts as you combat for survival against the enemy. "... Why did I ..." You dodge a jet of flame barely. " ... ever attack ..." A pegasus kicks your rised shield and you grit your teeth against the pain. " ... a Legionnaire!" ************************************* A legion of angels, bearing the symbols of the White Rose and singing a song of revenge and bloodshed, descend upon your kingdom as a white storm. Eye for an eye, land for land. ************************************* A cold and silent night, snow falling slowly over a peaceful landscape. Everything has been painted white by nature. The guards stomp their feet and breath out clouds of steam, trying to keep warm in the freezing weather. Candles and lanterns are the only bright stars in sight, and the falling snow makes it difficult to see far. White upon white, angels glide in, unseen, unheard. And then red upon white as the retaliation starts. ************************************* You lean on your staff and watch as the mages of the Council of Terra dispell their protective enchantments and teleport away, one by one. The border is again open and you peer beyond it, not yet really waiting anybody to attack... ...but they are there. Flags bearing the symbol of the White Rose rise defiantly from the invading army as they appear and rush once again against the perimeter walls. Another day, another battle. ************************************* A moment of rest, that is all you want. Your troops are in disarray, battered and beaten, your fortress damaged and broken, and you are so tired, oh so tired. Just a moment, to charge and resummon, to rebuild and to regain the balance... You blink; a second or half an hour, you are not sure. But you do recognize the sound you hear - it is the alarm bells clanging at the border. The Legion visits you yet again. ************************************* You stare numbly at your armor, drenched in blood. Most of it not your own, no; you are more tired than injured. You drift off to half-sleep... ...only to wake up to the alarm bells. The Legion of the White Rose is back. You start to rise... ...only to wake up to the alarm bells. This time you are really awake and they are really here. You lurch to defend your kingdom once again. ************************************* In the middle of the night, a new dawn illuminates the horizont. It is the reddish hue of burning and far-away death, the mark of pillagers and marauders. Against it, the army is silhuetted a fleeting moment, and your guards see myriad different forms flying, lurching and running toward your kingdom. They sound the alarm, and the battle begins... An oppressive feeling has plaqued you for the last few hours. And yet there should be no reason for it - everything seems to be in order, the kingdom ticking away, gathering you mana and geld like a well-oiled waterclock. Still ... like there were some kind of feather-light brushes on your mind, a distant touch you can't quite identify. You concentrate, determined to penetrate the veil of this mystery, and suddenly you see it all - infiltration of your defences, a light enchantment of drowsiness on you - a sneak attack! You rush out of your room shouting, and soon the sound of battle can be heard from everywhere. A scrying mirror dims somewhere, far away, and a mage smiles. ************************************* Time passes. And then, it begins; first as a flicker in the air over a marketplace, as a stiffness of the joints of a merchant, as a slowed yawn of the guard. It creeps and sneaks in, walks quietly past the border, knocks silently on your barriers. Finally, it fills your whole kingdom. And then, when the spell is ready, the troops charge... ************************************* A winter morning dawns in your kingdom. Rime-covered trees stand as vague and silent silhuettes in the chill mist. Weak, pale sun doesn't even try to warm anything - it just climbs ponderously over the horizont and lets all the ice and snow reflect it's meager rays, lighting up the country indirectly. Everything has an enchanted look; forests and farmlands are an icy wonderland. And everywhere the rare winter mist sneaks and stalks, obscuring vision. Figures move in there, reduced to shadowy shapes by the low visibility, but as your troops patrol the kingdom tirelessly, nobody wonders that. Then they emerge from the cold embrace of the mist, bearing the regalia of another mage, and the beauty of the morning makes way to the violence of the day. ************************************* In the middle of a word to be written, a thought to be spoken, you feel it: a great disturbance in the fabric of time, as though somewhere, someplace, a thousand clocks just ... stopped. Time scretches... ....yyoooouuuu bbblllliiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnkkk... ... and a strange small blue creature with wide grin appears. You have time to shout a single shout of warning before the combat erupts throughout your kingdom: "NU!" ************************************* You knew this day would come, but still you curse inwardly when the first ritual arrow of the siege whistles through the air and lands on the stone floor of your fort. It is the day when you either pay the price of attacking the Legion of the White Rose with blood or with land. ************************************* White Rose regalia marred with blood... You shake off your exhaustion and stop staring at the dead soldier lying broken in front of you, only to have a vivid sense of deja vu - you remember another dead soldier on another day. Again focusing your mind on the present situation, you look around and see the chaos of a battle in it's peak intensity, bodies sprawled all around you, formations broken, walking wounded studying their injuries with incomprehension. You see the price of attacking the Legion of the White Rose. ************************************* Wind carries a noise from afar - a roaring noise of strange music, cacophonic but at the same time strangely enticing. It grows louder, and you travel to your kingdom's walls to face the source of it, be it a threat or a simple strange anomaly. What you see is an army of dragons and other creatures of fire surrouding their archmage: clad in deep red robe, skin as black as void, he conjures the sounds you heard from his lute, creating the impression of many players at once. As you look from the walls, the music reaches it's crescendo and the sonic blast cracks your wall in half. With shouts "For the Legion!", the army rushes through the gap. ************************************* An army marches against your walls, singing while they assault your kingdom. Lances of fire hit your troops from above as the dragons start their assault... "Thunder and lightning the gods take revenge..." ...you miss a part of their song while you plow through the enemy's zombies, who seem to be wearing metal armor, making combat against them difficult... "...Ripping and tearing..." ...a roaring fireball makes you duck for cover and the whirlwind created by the wings of the dragons drowns again part of the music, but then it returns... "...Protecting what we are Joining together to take on the world..." You shout your own battlecry to drown the noise of the song and charge forward to save what remains to be saved.
Gyrfalcon Posted October 25, 2002 Report Posted October 25, 2002 *applauds* Some fine arrows there, Zadown. I might even have appreciated them if I saw them on an arrow during an attack.
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