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(no subject) [Sep. 30th, 2007|11:24 pm]
this page is currently under construction and will be brought to life soon. The dark times are approaching...
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Chapter 8: The Road to Derelin [Jul. 23rd, 2005|11:43 pm]
With a sickening thud the motionless body of Roland hit the cold ground of the forest floor. Surrounding Alric and his fallen comrade in the shadows stood six mercenaries. The first of these fighters drew a club and beckoned Alric to make the first move. A fresh bead of sweat dropped from Alric's brow and fell upon the steel of his blade. Staring at his own reflection from his glistening weapon, he looked deep into his own eyes. His eyes were as black as his soul...for he had truely lost everything. Now that these foolish men had tried to steal the one thing that he possessed, a friendship, Alric knew that he would not fail in combat. Steel and wood clashed as a deafening blow sliced the enemy's club in half. Splinters hit the ground like rain. Without hesitation, Alric struck down the next adversary with the valor of a knight. Four of the mercenaries backed down and continued about their business down the dusty path to town. Only one enemy remained, and he was truely a force to be reckoned with. Letting out a cry of great anguish, Alric clashed steel with this skilled warrior. Sparks flew from their weapons as the enemy drove our hero back. Alric felt the warm splatter of his own blood on his leg as the blade of this haggard fighter sliced through his side. With an uncanny charge of strength, Alric swung his mighty sword with great vengance in a last desperate counterattack, connecting with the neck of his opponent. Alric let out a breath of air as the head of the mercenary rolled to his feet. The battle had been won.

After stitching up his own wound Alric knew that if he did not find shelter within the remaining hour of daylight, he would have a shallow grave to dig for his friend. Using many methods of navigation Alric concluded that the only place to seek refuge was to go south to a nearby village. There he would treat the wounds of Roland. Upon further inspection of the dusty map of Halador, Alric calculated that the closest safe haven was the village of Derelin, where he had met many a friend including the fair damsel Esmerelda. Alric would take the shortcut listed on the map, cutting travel time nearly in half. Finally a sense of hope filled the soul of Alric. During the hour's travel down the dusty path to Derelin, many dark thoughts filled Alric's troubled mind. The shrill cries from his children and wife during their slaughter could still be heard from his re-occuring nightmares he had experienced ever since his tremendous loss. Alric partly blamed himself for their fate. He had let them down he thought, and would not fail again.

The harvest moon showed bright through the branches above, and the sounds of owls and crickets filled the air... they seemed to resonate from the very heart of the land. They remained the only sounds other than the horrors that plagued Alric's soul. Other horrors would soon be adressed as well, such as the rising threat of the Dark Lord and his armies. Why were they taking over? Alric pondered the meaning behind all of this. The dreaded insignia that the dark warriors bore on their black armor appeared in his mind... the very symbol that represented the Melekrons, sworn enemies of the knights of Thurkyll. But how could this be?! They were whiped out after the Thurykllian victory of the great holy wars fought upon the very lands of Halador.

Clearing his mind of these thoughts, an uneasy feeling came over the weary Alric as he journeyed forward to the approaching town as the sun set down upon the land.
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Chapter 7: A Man Down [Jun. 23rd, 2005|01:53 pm]
As the battle raged on around him, Roland looked around in what he believed to be his last moments alive. He was sure someone would finish him off soon enough. He had failed his mission, he thought. And as his consciousness left him he saw a figure, fighting so gallantly, it was worthy of the skills of a Knight of Thurkyll. The figure turned and saw Roland. As the warrior grew closer, Roland realized whom it was. The brave and gallant warrior was Alric. He picked up Roland’s body, which had since lost consciousness. Alric carried Roland over his shoulder with one arm and continued to battle his way out with his other. He stumbled up to the hill where they had come from and he set Roland down. Hoping for life to still be dwelling somewhere inside Roland's body, Alric franticly began to treat him...

Down on the fields of battle, the dark army of mercenaries and slaves led by the kings so called advisor continued to slaughter the elder weak soldiers of Halador. They were being overrun and the King sent his last line of troops into battle, full of the oldest and weakest men. The dark armies quickly finished them off and it was obvious that the battle was at its end, as was the Kings army.

Two moons later, Roland woke up in pain. It was nighttime and he did not know where he was. All he could remember was getting a blow to his head and then seeing Alric running towards him. He felt his wound; it was stitched and was healing with the help of herbs and medicines. Alric was nearby, tending the fire of their camp. Alric noticed Roland and chuckled. "Didn't know if you'd ever wake up, you got hit pretty bad." Said Alric.

Later that night, as the two spoke of the homes they missed so much, they heard movements in the forest nearby. Alric drew his sword just as a half a dozen dark eyed mercenaries emerged from the shadows...

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Chapter 6: The Fate in the Balance [Jun. 19th, 2005|07:43 pm]
As the two armies clashed together on the great plains of Halador, the sight reminded Roland of the colliding waves of the Black Sea. Wincing at the blinding light of the great Sun, Roland grunted, setting his mighty steed into a gallop as he rode into the sunlight. The wind bit at the layer of sweat that had formed on Roland's brow, and his body ached from travel. None of these factors could stop our hero. As Roland witnessed the raging battle before him, he could not just sit back and watch a victory for the king's foolish advisor who had attempted to erase the history of the Old Times and vanquish the pride that filled the hearts of many villagers. As the fate of Halador hung in the balance, Roland knew that his destiny was to draw back the Dark armies...and with his horse and new found friend Alric, he was ready to take on all opposing forces that threatened the serenity of this beautiful land.

Letting out a battle cry, Roland entered the heat of battle. Striking down on his foes from atop his glorious steed, his love for the land served as fuel for victory. As Roland looked upon the defending armies of Halador, now his comrades, he realized that they were not fit for battle and merely a militia of villagers including many elders. Had the fate of Halador not been enough reason for the young men in the surrounding villages to take arms? Roland thought them cowards, and no greater burden than the Dark warriors themselves. Slashing through the on-coming mercenaries, he could tell from their attire and skill in sword play that many of these men were well trained. Upon further inspection, he noticed a strange insignia on the armor of these warriors. Roland could not believe his eyes...how could this be? What blasphemy was this?

Before Roland could comprehend this atrocity, he received a swift calculated blow to his temple from a ground fighter. Slowly losing consiousness, Roland sent his sword through the torso of a Dark broadswordsman, blood flying from his open wound, defiling the very Earth that had sprung forth life upon these plains.
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Chapter 5: A Tale of Two Armies [May. 31st, 2005|10:58 pm]
As Roland rode from the village in search of the answers to his questions, Alric caught up to him. Calling out Roland’s name, he led his horse off the old worn road. Roland followed his newfound companion off the path and into the darkness of the woods. The forest was deep; danger lurked in every tree and around every corner. As Alric navigated the two through the deep and perilous forest, Roland wondered of the significance of this unruly detour. But he trusted Alric, and if he would not explain, Roland would not ask.

Three hours of travel later, Alric stopped his horse and dismounted. Roland, followed suit, and they set up camp for an early breakfast. Roland was weary from their night of travel, but could see that Alric was excited. Roland knew this trip must be important. As Roland cooked up their last ground rat, Alric peeled and boiled carrots. As they ate, Alric began to speak. He quit the nonsense of normal breakfast banter and jumped into a story about the Kingdom of Halador. He told Roland that the Dark Lord that the King of Halador had appointed as an advisor had more plans than the King would like. He was planning on taking Halador by force in one final front where the standing Kingdom would fall to the dark lord’s new regime.

Alric also spoke of a conversation he overheard between two hooded figures in the tavern back in town. They spoke of this battle that would decide the fate of Halador. It would be fought upon the fields of where the Holy Wars were won centuries ago. The King’s last soldiers would stand before the might of the dark lord. Supposedly, the army that the dark lord has raised rivaled the strength and numbers of the armies of the West. “How could this be?” thought Roland, “Where would one raise such a grand army out of the shadows?” As Alric continued, he spoke that the fight will take place at sunrise. The two armies will line across the fields and face each other for one last battle that will decide everything. The Kingdom of Halador, even with its brave and mighty warriors, has no chance of defeating the numbers of the dark army. Halador will fall to the darkness. Roland had a new destiny. It was his fate to bring peace back to Halador and to rid the dark evil from the beautiful land of Halador. He would, no matter what, complete his god-given task before he could rise up and rest in Heaven…

Roland and Alric finished their breakfast and rode on towards the fate of Halaldor. The rode off towards the battle; the battle that would decide everything. As they broke from the woods into the light, the rising sun blinded them. As their vision adjusted, they saw the two armies charge, fighting for their king and for their land, across the field into their destiny…

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Chapter 4: The Great Disturbance [May. 24th, 2005|07:47 pm]
After only a few days of travel, Roland knew that they must stop at the village ahead. Glancing at his companion Alric, a man of the land whose skills in navigation could not be matched, Roland could tell he had grown weary from travel and was in need of a well-deserved rest... and perhaps a shot of rum to calm the body and mind. The vibrant colors from the setting sun beckoned Roland to gaze upon its beauty on the Western horizon, reminding him of unfinished business and the life he had left behind. Turning to the East, dusk settled on the village as the sight of lights luminating from the windows and the smell of maple calmed the knight's spirits. As he looked beyond the village and could see the decaying palace of Halador o'er the plains before him, he was filled with a thrist for the land. And as he and his new found friend approached the village, he knew that his thirst would soon be quenched.

Upon entering the tavern, the stench of alcohol filled Roland's nostrils. The locals turned their heads to the journeymen almost instantly. Supping on their drinks and whispering to eachother, they seemed shocked at the sight of Roland and Alric. Had their eyes never fallen upon two wayward travellers? The men sitting around the bar eyed Roland with suspicion.

"Bartender, would thou fetch my companion and I a drink?"

The man behind the bar did not answer...he simply stood there with a perplexed expression on his rugged and unshaven face. After a few moments of silence, he swallowed and opened his mouth to speak. "Excuse me traveller... For It has been a long time since my eyes have befallen upon that crest." Roland looked down upon his sacred armor, remembering the engraving of the Crest of Thurkyll. An elder sitting on a barstool to his right locked eyes with the crest and gazed at Roland's shining armor... speechless. Roland sat next to him and questioned the old man. The man spoke of the Old Times, when the Knights of Thurkyll had aided the monks of the East in their holy wars and brought peace upon the land of the East. When Roland began to talk of these times, the man grew fearful and insisted that talking of such things could cost them their lives. He explained that a great disturbance had fallen upon the land of Halador and that the king of Halador's kingdom was in shambles. The king had appointed a Dark Lord as his advisor. The dark lord had decreed a ban on all religious icons, and any scrolls regarding the Old Kingdom were burned. Any villager caught talking of such things was burned at the stake in the center of the town. The dark lord wished to douse the flames of Revolution that filled the hearts and souls of the villagers of Halador. Roland had heard enough. "What darkness has fallen upon this land?" He thought in disgust as he stormed out of the tavern into the black of night.
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Chapter 3- Fresh Blood and a New Friend [May. 15th, 2005|09:31 pm]
Wielding his mighty sword, he approached his foes, ready to strike them down at moments notice. The three bandits spread out across the worn path and drew their weapons. One of the scoundrels was two heads taller then others and held a rusty axe, still wet with blood. Roland knew that he must die first. By then, the three men had surrounded Roland and where laughing at his misfortune. But secretly, Roland was laughing at theirs. For he knew that in several moments, all three lifeless bodies would spread in a pool of blood across the path.

Egging the largest thief on, Roland began his battle. He was not scared. He was smiling. He knew these petty fools would be no match for his superior training in swordplay. As the first strikes were taken, Roland was knocked back by the might of the axe man’s blow. He had not expected such a hard attack, so Roland disposed of him quickly. The fire inside him was charging with every swing the large man took at him. Roland parried the next attack and sprinted forward towards the giant running his sword right up into the large neck above him. But that did not kill him right away. Choking with pain he staggered while Roland ripped the sword from the large mans bleeding neck. He then with one deep breath carved right through the oversized rogues neck, ending his pathetic and worthless life with ease. “One down, two to go,” he thought as he moved on to the next assailant.

The two remaining swordsmen were as good as dead. With Roland on the move, his blade rained down on the next victim. The man luckily blocked the punishing blow just in time to save his life. But not for long. The warrior swung his blade at Roland, but Roland ducked and cut the foolish enemies’ ankle. He then fell to his knees and Roland struck his sword through the chest of the steel-wielding fighter with a satisfying sound of a punctured lung.

Seeing his partner die in such pain, the last bandit turned and ran. Running after him, Roland heaved his sword. It flew through the air and struck down the running coward. With all three men dead, Roland picked up hid belongings and mounted his horse.

After riding along the path for hours through the deep forest, he reached a clearing. Here stood a cabin. With the candlelight permeating through the dusty windows into the dark forest Roland approached. Maybe this was his chance to find the situation of Halador and the Kingdom that ruled it. He dismounted his horse, drew his sword, and continued on foot. As he grew closer to the cabin, he could spot nobody inside. He slowly walked up the stairs and into the open door. The cabin was a mess, the table was toppled and everything was a strewn. Inside was a body of a man with a bottle of wine in his hand. After looking around the room for danger, Roland approached the body. He was breathing; he was alive. He shook the man until he woke. With his eyes open, the man yelled. He did not know what was going on. All he knew was that there was an armor-clad knight standing above him with a sword in his hand. Roland calmed the man down, telling him that he meant no harm. They began to talk.

After speaking for some time, Roland found that this man used to be a protector and General of the King of Halador, but was now a simple man named Alric. He left his duty as a leader two years ago when he saw the destruction of his kingdom inevitable. He knew they were weak and that a new evil was arising in the land of Halador that would soon try to take over. So, he left and took his family out to these woods, built a cabin and lived there. Two days ago, men of the Kingdom of Halador found where Alric and his family had gone. They came to these woods while Alric was in the nearest town shopping for supplies. They killed his two children and his wife. A note was left from the King saying that it was he who betrayed the Kingdom by leaving and it was his fault if the Kingdom topples. After finding his family dead with this note he began to drink and had passes out the day before hoping he would never wake up. But here he was, and he had to make a choice. He had nothing left except his pride and dignity. Roland knew this, and knew that he needed someone like Alric to lead him through these lands and to help keep him out of danger. Alric was a trained fighter and was smart. After much talking, Roland convinced Alric that he would come with Roland on his quest and maybe even take some revenge for himself.

Alric collected his few possessions and donned his armor. Picking up his sword, he left the cabin, and left his life behind. He was out to take what had been taken from him. He wanted revenge for his family. But he would also help Roland. Together they took off through the forest atop their horses towards the darkness that was taking over this beautiful land.

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Chapter 2: A Rest for the Night [May. 11th, 2005|11:01 pm]
Mounted atop his glorious steed, our hero gazed upon the land. Throughout the thickly dense forest ahead lay one crude and winding path. Galloping through the dusty path the sunset shown through the branches above like a painting and the sounds of nature filled his ears and heart. After only a short distance's travel, new sounds grazed our knight's ears. Approaching a clearing ahead he saw before him a small campsite. Laughter could be heard from inside the tents and it was clear that a few men had gathered here to rest for the night. To the right of the larger tent a small fire was lit. The embers glowed in the dim light and seemed to fill the area with a sense of comfort. Slowing his horse into a steady trot, the knight approached the first tent. A stout red faced man with a joyful expression on his face welcomed the knight to the campsite with open arms. Dismounting the horse, they engaged in a light-hearted discussion of familiar things.

"O Wayward traveller, Rest yourself in one of our tents," exclaimed the merry old chap, when dusk covered the land of Halador like a thick blanket. The knight thought of this idea and agreed. Sipping the man's ale and tying his horse to a nearby tree, there he settled for the night.

Hours later, our knight awakened to rustling noises outside the tent. Unsheathing his broadsword in a swift fluid motion he sliced through the side of the tent and was ready for battle

"O wild beasts of this great land, Where dost Thou hide like a coward?"


Upon further inspection of the camp area, he realized that his belongings were not to be found. Mounting his horse, he sliced the ropes that bound his white beauty and galloped along the path in search of these mindless robbers that dare test his patience. He would not allow the land of Halador to bear liscence to theives under his watch. Further up ahead three men could be seen. The horse came to an abrupt stop.

"Who are you who dares approach us? Cannot you bear witness that we are busy in these early hours? Who dares interrupt us?" Challenged one of the theives.

"'Tis I, Roland, Knight of Thurkyll, and on this day a foolish band of highwaymen shall perish by the steel of my blade!" Exclaimed the knight as he neared the enemy.

By Paul
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Chapter 1- Halador, The Land of Beauty [May. 8th, 2005|10:59 pm]
[music |this entry inspired my the band Lost Horizon]

Looking over the vast mountains, the armed warrior of old gazed upon the glory of this land. Could this be true? Had he finally reached the Kingdom of Halador? He had been told by many travelers of this kingdom and its pristine beauty, but never had he believed these old wandering fools. But once he had reached the land he realized how truly unspoiled this territory was, for it was perfect. The open lands were only severed by towering, jagged yet distant mountains. A swift hawk caught his eyes as it flew across the plains in search for prey. “Who owns this kingdom?” he asked himself as he watched the ways of life unfold around him. Halador had never seemed possible to the fortified fighter whose life revolved around training for battle and fighting for his land. But now as he looked upon the beauty surrounding him, he found his own land not worth fighting over, for the Kingdom of Halador had beauty and peace that he had never before seen. A peace that this warrior wished to disturb for as long as needed until it was his. He would summon an army and take this land from the weak Kingdom that stood upon it. The Kingdom of Halador would fall under the army from the West and a new king would be crowned. And that king would be this warrior, wielding his glimmering sword that was once his fore father in the wars of old as he strikes down upon his enemy with the iron fist of war.

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