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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Nov 26, 2006 16:57:55 GMT -5
This is the beginning of a book(s) chronicling the period of time in Treten when the "Crusades of Men" occurred. It occurs about 1,000 years before my first book.
Narm marched along, proudly bearing the armor of the Nardelian infantry. They had just arrived on the continent of Alonov, just north of Narm's home nation, Nardel. The King of Nardel had sent a large number of soldiers to defend his colonies in Alonov against the Slevs. The Slevs where a group of nomadic tribes joined under the rule of Haeb, the former commander of the Nardelian army. Haeb had been exiled after a rumored preforming of Naigrek, and an assassination attempt on the king. Naigrek, also referred to as the Dark Arts, was a form of magic surrounded in superstition. It was said to be responsible for all the corruption of the world, and the Tethi Omid where thought to be its masters. "Stop!" the captain, Strom, called out. Narm had never trusted Strom, something about his eyes... The sound of far off voices could be heard as Strom and another exchanged words in the desolate wasteland. A sudden crash of metal was heard, followed by a loud explosion. I'll have to finish this later, it may change, seeing as I was being rushed.
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Post by Zorel on Nov 26, 2006 17:03:58 GMT -5
Okay, the seventh book created. All follow ups on mine, but they are all great starts! Good luck Ktsed! ^_^
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Nov 27, 2006 19:09:27 GMT -5
No, same here as with Sorik. The Clammor were around a year before these forums, along with all of the characters except for Ksedd and Strom...
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Dec 1, 2006 20:31:35 GMT -5
Narm marched along, proudly bearing the armor of the Nardelian infantry. They had just arrived on the continent of Alonov, just north of Narm's home nation, Nardel. The King of Nardel had sent a large number of soldiers to defend his colonies in Alonov against the Slevs. The Slevs where a group of nomadic tribes joined under the rule of Haeb, the former commander of the Nardelian army. Haeb had been exiled after a rumored preforming of Naigrek, and an assassination attempt on the king. Naigrek, also referred to as the Dark Arts, was a form of magic surrounded in superstition. It was said to be responsible for all the corruption of the world, and the Tethi Omid1 where thought to be its masters. "Stop!" the captain, Strom, called out. Narm had never trusted Strom, something about his eyes... The sound of far off voices could be heard as Strom and another exchanged words in the desolate wasteland. A sudden crash of metal was heard, followed by a loud explosion. In truth, Narm was glad for the action. He tensed, readying himself for almost anything. Though he tried, he was not ready for what happened next. Legions of soldiers from the Alovonian Empire swarmed around his army's ranks. This explained the explosion. The Emperials used many magics that were forbidden in Nardel. The Alovonian Empire was notorious for unfair strategies in war, but being that they had never lost a war, no one protested without living their next day under the green and black Alovonian coat, if not worse. Nardel had always been favored by the Empire, until now, at least. The Nardelians were out-numbered at least three to one, and out armed by the Emperials'2 long spears, battle axes and long swords. By contrast, each Nardelian only carried one sword of medium length and a large dagger. The Emperials expected a quick surrender, and Narm did too, he doubted Strom wanted to risk the safe being of Nardel over a thousand soldiers and his honor. Once again, Narm was unprepared by what happend next. Strom shouted out a menacing, "ATTACK!" Everyone was stunned, and there was a long period of uninterrupted silence before the tell-tale sounds of a brutal battle broke out. Narm struggled to break away from his surrounding allies, but they were packed too tightly. Narm was starting to fear that he might miss the action, stuck in the middle of a surrounded army, when a few Alonovian Shamans broke through the Nardelian's first row of Defenders and the Emperial archers started firing seemingly endless volleys of flaming arrows into the opposing infantry. They immediatly broke rank. The Nardelians were charging in every direction and Narm was able to make it to one of the Shamans. He charged forward, swinging his sword like a man posessed. With a flick of his jewel-pointed staff, the Shaman sent Narm flying into a cluster of Emperials. When he raised his sword to defend against an incoming blow, he heard a sickening noise; he had dealt a fatal blow to an Emperialist3.My first kill. The Emperial's blow was deflected, and Narm was able to stand up to battle his stunned foe, who obviously expected little of the Nardelians, face to face. He parried two more blows, but the next one caught him off guard, and he was pushed back a foot by the slash across his chest. The Emperial gave a satisfied chuckle and stepped forward. "You Nardelians aren't so high and mighty when facing death and destruction, are you? It sure is a real shame that neither you nor your nation will be alowed the chance to repent and accept your superior!" The man was too busy gloating to see Narm slip his dagger out of its sheath until it was sliding across his throat. "Funny, I never dreamed that my superior would be inferior to me." Narm was splattered with blood other than his own when he finished the man off.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
1.A cult of beings other than men thought to be those responsible for Naigrek.
2.The Alonovian Empire's elite division of their army.
3.A captain of the Emperials.
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Dec 8, 2006 21:10:49 GMT -5
The Emprialist charged throughout the battle, leading his troops and generally making the lives of the Nardelians considerably shorter. He came across a group of five or six Nardelians that had obviously seen many battles and were sticking together to increase the chances of survival. It seemed to be working. The Emperialist dashed forward and swung his sword, relieving two of the seasoned warriors of their worries in one fell swoop. The others, surprised and more than a little disheartened, surrounded him and started into an advanced assault upon the man that had ceased the breathing of two of their allies. The Emperialist was more than a little impressed with the complexity of the soldier’s attack, but still defended himself with a finesse beyond most men. He had expected less from mere barbarians. “You really should try to stay within your league, or you may find yourself in a condition similar to your idiotic friends.” The men started to back away, all but one, that is. He stepped closer. “Pay the dead the respect that they are due. My brothers were great men,” the Nardelian retorted, a ferocious gleam in his eye. The Emperialist could tell from the man’s language that he was more than a simple soldier. “What is your name? You may yet be able to bring honor to your disgraced family of fools,” the Emperialist questioned, prodding the man on further. The man seemed to get angrier, as improbable as it seemed. “My name is Serove Thaiau, and I intend to correct the wrongs done, for there is no way other than pure accident and chance that men as great as my brothers could fall to a coward with no worth or strength other than his sharp tongue.” The Emperialist was taken aback. Not only was this common farmer bold, but he also had enough honor, pride and loyalty to fight a battle he knew he was more than likely to lose for the sake of deceased family. He was genuinely impressed, but not touched. He would slaughter the barbarian like the swine he was. The Emperialist looked around for a split second before his first strike, dismayed to find that all of the soldiers immediately surrounding had stopped fighting, entranced by the drama unfolding before them. To the Nardelians, this was every bit important as the battle itself, the Alonovians were watching simply for the violence and gore. He decided not to punish himself, for he had to admit that he would have done the same thing at their stage; now he would use the distraction to make a few easy kills. When the Emperialist attacked, it was nothing less than perfect. He swung his large sword at the man’s face, and as if the fact that he had the advantage of a better weapon wasn’t enough, he also brought a knife up towards Serove’s ribs with his other hand, and he had no choice but to attempt to halt the progress of the lethal, poisoned blade with his large and comparatively cumbersome dagger seeing as his other limb was busy parrying the Emperial Blade. Miraculously, he succeeded. The Emperialist, awestruck at the man’s skill and effort, afforded him the next assault. It was a grave error. Serove dropped his dagger in favor of two handed strikes, forcing his foe to do the same. The Emperialist could have dropped the poisoned knife in such a way that it would cut into the man’s leg, quickly finishing the battle, and probably would have if this was any normal foe; he parried the multiple blows with ease. On the fourth strike, Serove put his full strength into the slash. The Emperialist shifted at an almost inhuman rate, placing the tip of his blade in front of Serove, who effectively impaled himself. The rabble of an audience gathered around the makeshift stage to see whether the wound fatal. If they had made slightly less noise, then more than one may have heard the Emperialist speak the last words his foe would ever hear: “If you had been half as great as you claimed your brothers to be, then you may have not let them die in vain.” If they had been quieter still, then they may have heard Narm vow revenge for his brothers.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
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Post by Loki on Dec 10, 2006 15:26:41 GMT -5
Dude, that was awesome. No advice here. You are way better than m e. *applauds*
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Dec 29, 2006 22:42:58 GMT -5
oh, it gets better, much better!!!!!!!!
Narm fell to his brother’s side. Serove was the closest thing that Narm Thaiau ever had to a father. His real father was captured by the “Mrey Narv,” one of the groups that would come to make up the Slevs, when he was on an ambassadorial mission to the Alonovian Empire to request help against the sect.
While most of the Slevs were just bandits, the Mrey Narv were a group of highly trained former Alonovian and Nardelian soldiers and officers that were lead by Haeb, unbeknownst to all until he created the Slevs. They were created thirty years ago in secret by a small group of politicians to relieve the Nardelians and the Alonovians of their “corrupt rule.” For a long time, they were a small threat to either world power, but then they seemed to inexplicably work their way into the inner workings of the governments. What they seemed to discover there made them try all the more harder to bring down the nations from within. Assassinations, the diverting of funds and disposal of communications between the two countries and the leaders within each were common things for the next ten years that followed. Some of the more paranoid men thought that the Mrey Narv had more control in the government than the leaders themselves, and the truth is, they weren’t far off. Twenty years ago, a prominent politician from Nardel, tired of the Mrey Narv’s control, initiated a cleansing of the government. Every man and woman suspect was imprisoned and sometimes even executed, depending on the charges. When the First (or False, as some call it) Cleansing was nearly complete, it was discovered that the man himself was of the Mrey Narv and promptly beheaded. What he had really done was clear out the government and make more room for the sect themselves. Luckily, when the man’s belongings were searched, they found documents stating the names of most of the Mrey Narvians in the Nardelian government, allowing the Republic to be freed from the grasp of the Mrey Narv in the Second Cleansing. Five years passed with little news of the Mrey Narv, but Narm’s father, a high-ranking general in the Nardelian Military, knew something was brewing. He journeyed to Alonov, requesting help. Right after his first meeting with the Emperor, he disappeared. To prove their innocence, the Alonovians started a large scale investigation and eventually discovered that the man was in Mrey Narvian hands. A huge attack was launched against them in the Alonovian Empire. Though Narm’s father was never found, the Alonovians succeeded in driving most of the Mrey Narv out of their country through a series of conflicts that some considered an all out war. This was known as the Third Cleansing. For fifteen years the Mrey Narv had remained dormant, becoming little more than bandits, but then Haeb took the helm. He lead the sect in an entirely different direction. He either bribed or convinced every single one of the Nomadic Tribes that roamed the outskirts of the Alonovian Empire and Nardel to band together under the Mrey Narv and form the Slevs.
Narm stood up, enraged by the death of all of his brothers. He hated the Emperialist for killing Serove. He hated himself for not standing by Serove. He hated most everything right now. He felt someone else take control. Narm was about to track down the Emperialist when the Emperials charged the stunned Nardelians. Most of them fell without a fight, unprepared for the sudden onslaught by the Emperials. The Emperials worked fast and was able to make it to Narm, near the center of the group of Nardelians, in a matter of seconds. Narm was the one obstacle that stood in their way from conquering this group of Nardelians that made up roughly a tenth of the entirety of Nardel’s soldiers in the battle. Narm jabbed and stabbed left and right. He downed most of the soldiers in one hit. Time seemed to slow down for him. The Alonovians didn’t even have time to defend themselves and were held back. His sword flicked across one man’s exposed neck, and into another’s face. He jabbed the blade up a damaged scale of armor in the next man’s suit to bring the cold steel directly to the man’s heart, which would never beat again. The next was disemboweled when Narm slipped his sword up through the bottom of the soldier’s armor. Narm was scared, for he knew that whatever he was doing was not of him. He felt like a puppet, as if someone else was controlling him. Someone immensely powerful. He fought against it, but he was to exhausted by the almost too quick to see slashes and jabs of his sword. When finally the Nardelians regained themselves and joined Narm, the power released him and the sudden return from the slowed existence caused Narm to collapse on the spot.
END OF CHAPTER THREE
Narm came to about fifteen minutes later, with the concerned face of a fellow soldier taking up most of his vision. “He’s awake!” the man shouted, helping Narm up. He handed Narm a canteen and, within seconds, Narm was ready to fight again. He started walking back to the nearest battlefront, when he saw something that surprised him. A dark figure, clad in a dark grey cloak, cowl drawn over its face, appeared in front of him. “Narm, seek revenge. Think of your brothers. I can help you...” the creature hissed out, it’s voice a harsh, etheral whisper amid the sound of the fierce battle raging not a hundred yards away. Narm felt his body and mind being forfeit to this being’s power once again, for he immediately recognized it as the force that had taken him earlier. “Let... me... go!” Narm shouted, and the thing immediately withdrew. It morphed to the shape of a tall man before him. The man was tall, at least a head and a half taller than the averaged height Narm, he was so tall it almost seemed seemed unnatural. His blank, dark grey cloak covered his broad shoulders He had short-cropped military style hair that was jet black. His black eyes burned with a will and fury greater than any one man. The man drew his swords, smiled a sick, evil smile, and stepped forward. “My name is Estuze,” he said, his deep voice booming across the battlefield, though no one else seemed to hear. Narm looked at his blades for the first time. They were large, too heavy for a normal man, and long, made up of a heavy metal that Narm didn’t recognize. The symbols... There were symbols large symbols that represented the... “Tethi Omid,” the man said. “I am of the Tethi Omid,” it seemed to well timed to be pure coincidence, “and I have come to help you...”
The Emperialist was as close to worn out as he had ever been. The Nardelians were striking back with a newfound strength and fury. The Alonovians were losing ground before he stepped in, and now he was barley able to allow them to hold their ground. “Hahsh, follow me!” he lead a high ranking Shaman, also leading troops, to a weak spot in the Nardelian defense, hoping to push them back and completely surround them again. He dashed ahead, taking an officer off guard and running his blade through his neck. Hahsh and his subordinates followed the Emperialist to the weak point. Hahsh pointed his staff directly at the center of the point, and let loose a huge plume of flame. The Nardelians scattered, screaming, and forced their allies to back up, lest they be attacked from behind by the Emperials. The battle grew ever more gruesome as the Nardelians were compacted into an even smaller space, and blood ran along the ground in rivers, turning the dry dirt to a mud that made it difficult to walk.
“Help me?” Narm boldly spat back at Estuze, disgusted, “even if that was true, I would never accept help from a heretic such as you.” The man’s face sprouted a devilish grin. “You would be surprised at how much I have done for you, Narm,” the Tethi Omid started circling Narm, sheathing his blades while Narm did the opposite. “I am on your side, Narm. I mean you no harm,” Narm spotted a hint of armor under Estuze’s cloak as he spoke this. “And what side would that be?” Narm questioned skeptically. He didn’t believe a thing this thing spoke. “Why, the side of great Nardel, of course. The side against the Mrey Narv,” the man replied, as if he spoke of the greatest cause he knew of. As if it was all he believed in. “Quite lying, and stop disgracing Nardel by claiming to be on its side. We want nothing to do with your kind in Nardel, your even worse than the Mrey Narv!” Narm was shouting by this point, and tried to walk back to the battle, but Estuze put himself between Narm and his destination. “What do you want?” Narm was furious, and was about to attack the misbeliever. “I want to help you win this battle,” Estuze said, looking frustrated, as if this should have been obvious. “Why, you would be helping your worst enemies. All of the Nardelians hate you, including me,” Narm retorted, ready to satisfy his curiosity to discover if the creature’s blood was the same color as a man’s. “The Nardelians are not my worst enemies, and they don’t hate me as much as you believe,” the creature repeating his declaration for the umpteenth time was all that Narm could take. He swung his sword in a vertical arch that should have placed it directly in Estuze’s face. The blade passed right through the Tethi Omid as it seemed to dissolve into a cloud of black smoke which swirled around and reformed into Estuze a foot back, standing over Narm, who had fallen when his sword met nothing but air. Narm stabbed his sword at the man’s legs, but it leaped back word at a speed too fast for any man. Narm jumped up and clashed swords with the heretic, who exerted no effort and still managed to knock the blade from Narm’s hands. The man’s irises streaked with a blood-red color that sent shivers down Narm’s spine. “I will forgive you once and let you go, without my help, which you obviously detest,” Narm wasn’t about to let the Tethi Omid just walk away from him. He grabbed his sword and charged at the thing after it had turned its back and started to walk away.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
The Emperialist tried to fight his way through the wall of his soldiers, but it was no use. They were just packed to tightly, about ten men thick from the Nardelians. For once, the Emperialist found himself unwillingly separated from the battle, helpless to what was occurring inside. He felt horrible and restless as he was forced to observe the battle from several hundred yards away on a hilltop within a black pavilion that served as his headquarters for this battle. Most of his aides were nervous about being so close to the battle, but the Emperialist had insisted. He would at the very least be within range to help his army if the need or chance came about. His only consolation was that his soldiers seemed to be winning, but barely at that. “Where is their captain?” he asked Hahsh, his personal assistant and bodyguard. He had been pondering this fact for over an hour, for he had seemed to just disappear. “No one’s quite sure, not even the Nardelians, but most agree that Lare must have deserted after half of his army was unaccounted for,” he replied, his emotionless blue eyes gazing at the battle. His black armor was caked in mud and dirt, and his bald head held one of the greatest strategic minds of Alonov. “There’s no need to worry sir,” he said, seeming to read the Emperialists mind. He could and had accurately predict almost any battle, so if Hahsh was confident, the Emperialist was confident. A crack of thunder could be heard as the overcast sky released its payload of rain on the barren landscape; there was nothing but dirt, roads and hills for tens of miles. Not even a single tree. The Emperialist’s servants immediately started lowering the pavilion’s flaps. They left the eastern flap open to prevent it from getting too hot, and as luck would have it, Hahsh and the Emperialist had a perfect view of the battle. “Hahsh, how much longer do you think the Nardelians will last for?” the Emperialist asked, the driving streaks of rain making it difficult to see the ensuing battle. The wind started to pick up, and the servants started securing the pavilion to prevent it from blowing away. “At the current rate,” he paused, doing mental calculations, “two and one-half hours.” He absently picked up a map and started marking the battle’s progress. It took him about thirty seconds. “What about all of Nardel, Hahsh? How long do you think we must wait for that which we have been denied for so many years?” the Emperialist started pacing the opening of the pavilion, endearing the thoughts of what would come to pass in the next few years. Hahsh actually smiled; this was the first time the Emperialist had seen this phenomenon occur other than when Hahsh was destroying his foes in battle. “Not soon enough, milord , not soon enough...”
Narm was knocked back several yards as Estuze spun around on the ball of his foot at an unbelievable speed and connected his palm with Narm’s chest. “My intentions at first were only friendly, but now you have incurred the wrath of a being more powerful than yourself,” his irises were completely hidden in the red streaks now. Narm stood up, wheezing, and barely croaked out, “I would have it no other way. I will gladly die a thousand deaths before surrendering to you.” He charged the being once again, only to find himself repelled back a good three feet from his target. “Face me as if you have honor, powerless coward!” Narm sounded a great deal braver than he looked or felt. Estuze lowered the barrier, unsheathing one of his blades. Narm, having learned his lesson, stepped forward slowly and cautiously this time, his sword in a defensive position. Estuze flicked his right wrist and gave Narm a one-handed blow that, when parried, forced him back a few feet. Narm swung his notched blade in a two-handed vertical slash that Estuze simply blocked it. While the blades were still locked, he slipped one hand off of the hilt and grabbed his dagger. Narm stepped forward, sliding Estuze’s blade off of his, behind his back and brought both sword and dagger up towards the creature’s chest in a fluid motion at a speed most men would be incapable of seeing, let alone blocking. Estuze moved his blade in between his body and Narm’s sword at an impossible speed. Narm, unprepared to meet any resistence until his blades reached Estuze’s body, dropped the blade. Estuze grabbed Narm’s left hand, which was holding the dagger, and picked him up. He looked into Narm’s eyes, expecting to see fear, but was surprised to see nothing but determination and hatred. “It has been just as easy to kill you as your father, but I will admit that both of you made me come closer to trying than most men I’ve battled.” Narm’s hatred increased tenfold as he stared into the eyes of his father’s murderer. Estuze simply flung him away. Narm flew through the air a few seconds before he reached the ground. His head landed on a rock, and everything went black.
END OF CHAPTER FIVE
The Emperialist walked down to the battle along with Hahsh to observe the progress, seeing as it was impossible to see what was happening with the storm going on. The wind was blowing so hard that it practically propelled them forward. When they arrived, they found the battle much as they had left it. “PART!” the Emperialist screamed, and lower ranking Emperialists carried out his command, parting a path in the soldiers just big enough for the Emperialist and Hahsh to make it through to the Nardelians. Their foes were so eager to escape that they tried to charge through the gap, much to the delight of Hahsh. He simply held his hand out and bolts of black lightning leaped from his finger tips and killed the Nardelians with little damage to their bodies. Hahsh and his master dashed to the battlefront, where they were instantly swallowed in soldiers from both armies. “Are you ready, milord?” Hahsh asked, waiting to attack the hesitating Nardelians. “Let’s end this as quickly as possible, so that we may end the pathetic regime of these weakling fools before they do too much damage.”
Narm awoke with a start when the rain started falling, Estuze no where in sight. The creature must have escaped. He stood up and stretched. How long have I been out? At least an hour. He looked around for any sign of his enemy, but saw not even footprints, for the rain was starting to become heavier, washing everything away and severely hampering his vision. He started walking in the direction he thought the battle should be, but after a few minutes, he realized he was hopelessly lost, the sound of the battle drowned out by the rain and wind. “Hello!” he called out to anyone that might care to listen, but the only reply was a crack of thunder and pickup in the wind. It was only now that he fully appreciated the entire lack of shelter in the Nomadic Badlands of Alonov, called so because their only inhabitant was the occasional nomadic tribe. There were no ponds, no rivers, and not even a single tree. There was nothing but an endless sea of dirt that was interrupted only by the numerous, but just as dull, dirt hills. There was a loud noise as a nearby hill lost part of it’s mass to erosion from the wind and rain, and Narm had to jump to the side to avoid being crushed by the sudden avalanche of dirt. Another reason the Badlands were uninhabited, the countless hills had been known to cascade and bury alive any hapless travelers that were within them during one of the few storms. Narm had to get to one of the rocky plains before he was either crushed by the falling hills or sucked into the mud ground, becoming more untraversable by the second. There was a series of loud bangs as the weather demolished more of the landscape. The wind picked up even further, making it impossible for Narm to see amid the flying soil and rain. He stepped out from behind a hill that was acting as a windbreak, and was pushed to the ground. He had a feeling that this was no ordinary storm. He tried to push himself back up, but the mud simply sucked him in further. There was nothing solid for at least four feet down by now. He tried to turn over to get a breath after his mouth was filled with mud when he tried face down, but his arms were firmly planted, straight out in the sea of mud. He felt himself sinking, and his mouth filling with the limitless mud until it was starting to fill the front of his throat. He struggled even more, doing nothing but pulling himself further in. Suddenly, he thought of the last person expected to think of this near to death. Estuze. He had nearly forgotten about his claim that he had killed his father. His body filled with a determination to avenge his father’s death. It’s likely that he didn’t do it. He probably said that just to get to me. Even after these thoughts he wanted to utterly destroy the inhuman beast. He struggled even harder, doing nothing but pulling himself further in. He felt the raindrops on his back cease. After a half of a second, he realized that this was bad. He was either completely under the mud or going unconscious. Either way, it resulted in the same thing. Narm felt the mud start to squeeze the life out of him.
END OF CHAPTER SIX
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Post by Ktsed Vereq on Jan 9, 2007 19:22:30 GMT -5
Oh, and I went through it the other day and corrected akward/incorrect text, so this isn't a proofread version.
"akward" is so much cooler than "awkward!"
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