Monday, May 08, 2006 @ 4:34 PM


18 December (Chapter 1)


Dawn, 18 December, 1250


Desrade clenched his fists; covered in steel gloves, making an annoying sound of crunching metal. He was standing up on the red carpet that ran across the large hall, which ceiling's top could barely be seen. There was a stained glass window above the King's Royal throne, cushioned with leather covered feather pillows, and decorated with tonnes of gold. The floor was made of gray cobblestones, and there was a large, arched wooden door behind him, guarded by two guards dressed in blue robes, armed with halberds.Soon, the door swung open, as a man, elegantly dressed with robes of red, hugged by a cloak of blue trimmed with white cotton and a golden crown on his head, stepped into the room. The man was the King, and upon arrival, Desrade spun around and knelt on a knee with his right hand on the carpet.

He was a royal knight. He had a chest plate of silver that ended at his waist, and in replacement of the plate, there were joined iron that would enable movement of the waist. Right below it was a belt of simply black leather, which had a single piece of rope attached to it, and at the end of the rope was a scabbard of black cedar, in it was a thin scimitar; dangerously sharp. His outer arm was covered in plates of steel, with a rounded shape for his elbow's movements, but for his shield arm, that is, his left arm, it was left unarmoured to avoid constricting of movements. As mentioned before, his hands were gloved with a metal glove of steel, several joints in the iron for the finger movements.His legs were covered in the usual leg guards, with a round, spherical 'ball' at his knee for body movement. A triangular shaped steel flap fell in between his thighs, trimmed in gold and adorned with a golden serpent. Below it were metal boots, with several joints in the iron, just like the glove. Tied around the chest plate's collar was a tattered cape of maroon which could barely hide a broadsword made of pure steel.

The king gracefully strolled towards the throne before gently settling down on it. "Please rise, Desrade," the king started loudly, his echoes heard throughout the room. "My royal knight, would you be so kind as to go for a mission?" Desrade stood up and turned to face the king when he had finished."Any mission for you would be worthwhile, Your Majesty," He replied, with partial sincerity and partial refusal.

The king beamed, and he gripped his golden sceptre tightly. "I am certain that you have heard of...Darkranism?" He said, his eyes half filled with fury. The king seemed unwilling to say the word 'darkranism'.

Desrade looked up with similar disgust."Darkranism...the accursed religion of Darkranancers, Your Majesty?" Desrade responded, trying to hide his inner anger.

"Yes!" the king boomed, finally standing up, unable to control his temper any longer. "Ever wonder why the sky turns dark when there's no rain? It is the doing of a Darkranancer! Ever wonder why the crops fail? A result of the practice of Darkran! And ever wondered why the stars flicker, then go off?"

Desrade nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Another doing of the Darkranancer."They were interrupted by one of the guards at the door. "Your Majesty's royal bodyguard, Appollo, has arrived," the guard on the right hand side of the door announced. "Tell Fathom to come in," the king ordered, settling back down on the comfortable cushions on the throne. Soon, a large, well built and burly man entered the room.

He was wearing a polished visorless full helm and curved shoulder guards. He had a chest plate that adorned the kingdom's crest; a golden lion. The man had the spikey ball of a granite mace hanging limply from its holder attached to a series of joined iron at his waist, similar to Desrade's. A large, rectangular shield was attached with a piece of leather to his left arm. His left arm was covered in finely meshed chain mail, and his hand was was armoured with a gold trimmed glove. His right arm was covered with steel arm guards with a joint in the elbow. His legs were covered in silver leg guards; decorated and trimmed with twenty-four carat gold. Like Desrade, he also had a triangular flap in between his thighs with similar decorations. His metal boots were slightly different from Desrade's. The iron's joints, instead of plain, cut, iron, they were trimmed with shiny steel. A tattered, bright yellow, cape, that fell over a two handed sword on his back, was clipped to the knob underneath the shoulder guards. This is Appollo Fathom, the king's secondary royal bodyguard.
***********************
Later, after the king had dismissed them both...
"Have you told Kript that we are setting off today?" Desrade asked Appollo while walking alongside him in one of the many hallways of the castle. Appollo kept silent."Sir?" He prompted and Appollo stopped walking."Yes, I have, but he did not respond. I wonder why. He should have, my dear man. He should." Appollo told Desrade, who shrugged and kept on walking without waiting for the bodyguard. Soon, Appollo caught up with a quick jog that made the ground of cobblestone vibrate. "You ought to lose a few pounds, Sir." Desrade commented, and Appollo's look behind the helm did not seem happy about it."The armour is the cause, my dear Knight. It weighs us down." He argued, almost losing his cool."Yes, Sir." Desrade replied with sarcasm while entering a room with Appollo.
Although the room was in the luxurious castle of Fragdor, it was empty except for a few chains hanging from the wall two wooden stools. The window was nothing but a few steel bars, and the walls as well as the ground was lined with pebbles.
"Bear with me, Desrade, but this is the best place I can think about to warn you of the dangers Darkranancers bring to us." Appollo apologised, sitting gently on a stool which almost gave way under his weight.
"No problem, Sir." Desrade said, setting himself on the other stool. Appollo flinched slightly at the word 'Sir'.
"Call me Appollo from now on," He ordered. Desrade cleared his throat and whith his cloak, wiped his already polished metal glove.
"Now," Appollo started, his chirpiness replaced by a tone filled with austere. "Do you know much about Darkranancers, Darkranism, all that gibberish?"
"No, si-Appollo." Desrade answered promptly, almost adressing Appollo with the name he was taught to.
"Good. I shall explain to you the dangers of Darkran." The bodyguard responded, half aflamed.
"Darkranism was discovered by a necromancer," Appollo started explaining. "Sentientism directly opposes necromancy, making the necromancers unable to access the full powers of necromanism. One particular one researched and experimented, failing thousands of times, and even sacrificing his son in the process. You do understand so far, do you not, Desrade, my knight?" He said, finally pausing to see if Desrade was confused. Indeed, behind his visor, Desrade was still busy sorting out the information Appollo had just told him.
"Now, this necromancer's name is unknown, so the king of Fragdor at that time named him 'Dancing shadow'. Dancing Shadow has found a way to combine sentientism with necromancism, and his new religion or element of magic was Darkranism. With Darkranism, he threw the Kingdom of Furgoth, just a month's boat ride away from Fragdor, into turmoil. Do you follow?" He explained, pausing again. Desrade was still busy trying to arrange the new information, but Appollo did not stop any longer.
"The king of Furgoth could only watch as Dancing Shadow wrecked his beautiful kingdom. From a sunny, prosperous island, to a desolate ruin in the middle of the vast ocean. From our historians, we know that Dancing Shadow used sentientism to send devastating lightning bolts down from the sky, and used necromancy to raise an army of undead and block out the sun. When finally, Dancing Shadow died. His magic was buried with him. However, it was said that he passed on the art of darkranancy to another necromancer. And it was our guess that that necromancer, or darkranancer, has our kingdom as his target-" He continued, but desrade cut him off.
"And we found out his whereabouts, and our mission is to asphyxiate the darkranancer." He continued and snapped his fingers, making a loud metallic sound added with an irritating noise of scratching metal.

~To be continued...


This story is brought to you by :

~Departure

_:.Epee.:_

Monday, May 08, 2006 @ 4:34 PM


18 December (Chapter 1)


Dawn, 18 December, 1250


Desrade clenched his fists; covered in steel gloves, making an annoying sound of crunching metal. He was standing up on the red carpet that ran across the large hall, which ceiling's top could barely be seen. There was a stained glass window above the King's Royal throne, cushioned with leather covered feather pillows, and decorated with tonnes of gold. The floor was made of gray cobblestones, and there was a large, arched wooden door behind him, guarded by two guards dressed in blue robes, armed with halberds.Soon, the door swung open, as a man, elegantly dressed with robes of red, hugged by a cloak of blue trimmed with white cotton and a golden crown on his head, stepped into the room. The man was the King, and upon arrival, Desrade spun around and knelt on a knee with his right hand on the carpet.

He was a royal knight. He had a chest plate of silver that ended at his waist, and in replacement of the plate, there were joined iron that would enable movement of the waist. Right below it was a belt of simply black leather, which had a single piece of rope attached to it, and at the end of the rope was a scabbard of black cedar, in it was a thin scimitar; dangerously sharp. His outer arm was covered in plates of steel, with a rounded shape for his elbow's movements, but for his shield arm, that is, his left arm, it was left unarmoured to avoid constricting of movements. As mentioned before, his hands were gloved with a metal glove of steel, several joints in the iron for the finger movements.His legs were covered in the usual leg guards, with a round, spherical 'ball' at his knee for body movement. A triangular shaped steel flap fell in between his thighs, trimmed in gold and adorned with a golden serpent. Below it were metal boots, with several joints in the iron, just like the glove. Tied around the chest plate's collar was a tattered cape of maroon which could barely hide a broadsword made of pure steel.

The king gracefully strolled towards the throne before gently settling down on it. "Please rise, Desrade," the king started loudly, his echoes heard throughout the room. "My royal knight, would you be so kind as to go for a mission?" Desrade stood up and turned to face the king when he had finished."Any mission for you would be worthwhile, Your Majesty," He replied, with partial sincerity and partial refusal.

The king beamed, and he gripped his golden sceptre tightly. "I am certain that you have heard of...Darkranism?" He said, his eyes half filled with fury. The king seemed unwilling to say the word 'darkranism'.

Desrade looked up with similar disgust."Darkranism...the accursed religion of Darkranancers, Your Majesty?" Desrade responded, trying to hide his inner anger.

"Yes!" the king boomed, finally standing up, unable to control his temper any longer. "Ever wonder why the sky turns dark when there's no rain? It is the doing of a Darkranancer! Ever wonder why the crops fail? A result of the practice of Darkran! And ever wondered why the stars flicker, then go off?"

Desrade nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Another doing of the Darkranancer."They were interrupted by one of the guards at the door. "Your Majesty's royal bodyguard, Appollo, has arrived," the guard on the right hand side of the door announced. "Tell Fathom to come in," the king ordered, settling back down on the comfortable cushions on the throne. Soon, a large, well built and burly man entered the room.

He was wearing a polished visorless full helm and curved shoulder guards. He had a chest plate that adorned the kingdom's crest; a golden lion. The man had the spikey ball of a granite mace hanging limply from its holder attached to a series of joined iron at his waist, similar to Desrade's. A large, rectangular shield was attached with a piece of leather to his left arm. His left arm was covered in finely meshed chain mail, and his hand was was armoured with a gold trimmed glove. His right arm was covered with steel arm guards with a joint in the elbow. His legs were covered in silver leg guards; decorated and trimmed with twenty-four carat gold. Like Desrade, he also had a triangular flap in between his thighs with similar decorations. His metal boots were slightly different from Desrade's. The iron's joints, instead of plain, cut, iron, they were trimmed with shiny steel. A tattered, bright yellow, cape, that fell over a two handed sword on his back, was clipped to the knob underneath the shoulder guards. This is Appollo Fathom, the king's secondary royal bodyguard.
***********************
Later, after the king had dismissed them both...
"Have you told Kript that we are setting off today?" Desrade asked Appollo while walking alongside him in one of the many hallways of the castle. Appollo kept silent."Sir?" He prompted and Appollo stopped walking."Yes, I have, but he did not respond. I wonder why. He should have, my dear man. He should." Appollo told Desrade, who shrugged and kept on walking without waiting for the bodyguard. Soon, Appollo caught up with a quick jog that made the ground of cobblestone vibrate. "You ought to lose a few pounds, Sir." Desrade commented, and Appollo's look behind the helm did not seem happy about it."The armour is the cause, my dear Knight. It weighs us down." He argued, almost losing his cool."Yes, Sir." Desrade replied with sarcasm while entering a room with Appollo.
Although the room was in the luxurious castle of Fragdor, it was empty except for a few chains hanging from the wall two wooden stools. The window was nothing but a few steel bars, and the walls as well as the ground was lined with pebbles.
"Bear with me, Desrade, but this is the best place I can think about to warn you of the dangers Darkranancers bring to us." Appollo apologised, sitting gently on a stool which almost gave way under his weight.
"No problem, Sir." Desrade said, setting himself on the other stool. Appollo flinched slightly at the word 'Sir'.
"Call me Appollo from now on," He ordered. Desrade cleared his throat and whith his cloak, wiped his already polished metal glove.
"Now," Appollo started, his chirpiness replaced by a tone filled with austere. "Do you know much about Darkranancers, Darkranism, all that gibberish?"
"No, si-Appollo." Desrade answered promptly, almost adressing Appollo with the name he was taught to.
"Good. I shall explain to you the dangers of Darkran." The bodyguard responded, half aflamed.
"Darkranism was discovered by a necromancer," Appollo started explaining. "Sentientism directly opposes necromancy, making the necromancers unable to access the full powers of necromanism. One particular one researched and experimented, failing thousands of times, and even sacrificing his son in the process. You do understand so far, do you not, Desrade, my knight?" He said, finally pausing to see if Desrade was confused. Indeed, behind his visor, Desrade was still busy sorting out the information Appollo had just told him.
"Now, this necromancer's name is unknown, so the king of Fragdor at that time named him 'Dancing shadow'. Dancing Shadow has found a way to combine sentientism with necromancism, and his new religion or element of magic was Darkranism. With Darkranism, he threw the Kingdom of Furgoth, just a month's boat ride away from Fragdor, into turmoil. Do you follow?" He explained, pausing again. Desrade was still busy trying to arrange the new information, but Appollo did not stop any longer.
"The king of Furgoth could only watch as Dancing Shadow wrecked his beautiful kingdom. From a sunny, prosperous island, to a desolate ruin in the middle of the vast ocean. From our historians, we know that Dancing Shadow used sentientism to send devastating lightning bolts down from the sky, and used necromancy to raise an army of undead and block out the sun. When finally, Dancing Shadow died. His magic was buried with him. However, it was said that he passed on the art of darkranancy to another necromancer. And it was our guess that that necromancer, or darkranancer, has our kingdom as his target-" He continued, but desrade cut him off.
"And we found out his whereabouts, and our mission is to asphyxiate the darkranancer." He continued and snapped his fingers, making a loud metallic sound added with an irritating noise of scratching metal.

~To be continued...


This story is brought to you by :

~Departure

_:.Epee.:_