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    Anthology of the 1st Painted War ( Fiction based on the Lifehunter vs Noble Knights)

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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Thu Jul 19, 2012 7:50 pm

    SO Ill be posting all of the lore I did a while back for those few who remember and want to read it. Plus any other lore i can think of for recent USer Covenant Events.

    “Oscar placed his iron shod boot on the Hands’s head, pressing the man/woman’s face against the cold stone floor of Priscilla’s sactum.

    “You have failed wyrm” he announced, his voice thick with loathing. With a swift kick Oscar pushed the toe of his boots into the fallen mans stomach, which doubled him up coughing blood, then with a final push, Oscar sent the Hand over the edge.

    From behind him a scream tore at the air. Part beastial roar, like that of an ancient dragon come again, part human, a lamentation of grief for a lost son, as Priscilla saw he favoured child slip into the abyss.

    Oscar spared a second to glance behind him at the assembled Dragon Slayers, their bronze plates and leonine helms glinted in the dim half light, they hefted spears, long hafts that would find purchase in the ground so that the massive tips could piece dragon scales.

    They stood several meters behind him, some clutching at their ears, some had thrust the spear into the ground so as not to be brought low by the dirge, other stood at the ready unaffected and ready to do Oscars bidding.
    “Come my slayers, into the queen’s lair” he commanded and raised his own spear high over his head. The dragon slayers roared and charged after him into the open monastic ruin.

    I meant to stay back of course, the fighting had been fierce and I was more often than not a liability on the field, though I had taken one of the abominations for my own with the blade Isaac had given me. He stood not five feet from me, his plate armour splendid, embossed ensign of the golden sun emblazoned on his chest. While I had seen knights fell their enemies by the dozen; I did not feel so proud of my kill, only a slight sadness when I had seen that the engorged body of the slain was a young woman.


    “Stay close to me Farel” Isaac told me, wrenching my mind back into the present “This will be
    dangerous”.


    I nodded and followed him, the 13 of us stood in the entrance to Priscilla’s lair, a round arena with a light covering of snow. The temperature here seemed colder than the rest of the world and I shivered despite Isaac’s warmth, though to my eyes no snow seemed to be able to fall into this enclose wing of the Painted Fortress. Here I knelt and scooped a handful of snow. It was freezing, not necessarily unpleasantly so but the crystals of ice seemed different here.


    Sheer black pillars rose around the edge with branching ledges between them. The overall feel was one of an arena yet there was no blood, no broken weapons or armour, no monuments to the dead. No stolen treasures or living comforts. It was completely empty apart from her.

    The painted queen stood well over twelve feet tall, she had the appearance of a human, smooth white skin like velvet and a hair of the purest white cascaded down her shoulders. Though despite his she was not human and to any many this was plain. She was far too beautiful for human eyes, and radiated a bright glow that caused me to look away in awe. Draconic eyebrows, a thin curvature of scales, rested above reptilian amber eyes which scanned the room as the knights approached, her body was covered in a gown of fine winter furs, if in fact they were a gown at all. And most predominant was a long furred tail that protruded from the base of her spine which curled around by her legs. She was most regal in appearance if I do say, and her face belied a calmness and careful understanding like none I have ever seen. Though when Oscar approached it twisted into a fierce mask of hatred.

    She simply stood there, made no move to cut Oscar down ,scythe in her hands, waiting.

    Oscar walked forward pointing his spear at her. “Today your corruption is removed from this world. Your hand is dead and your exiles being put to the flame. Now you while join them” His voice was sonourous, and echoes of the wall, condemming.

    The she spoke, softly at first but her voice grew stronger with each word. “Your knights has’t defiled this place of peace, we wished for aught but to be removed from the world. Why have thou brought war? We suffered enough in the world beyond and for that thou woulds’t condemn my children to die by sword and fire? Where has’t the honor of knights since departed to?”

    He word were gentle, and belied a weight of sadness beyond what any of the knights could imagine. Some wept where they stood, others fell to their knees, and others, even Oscar, himself, felt ashamed.

    However his duty compelled him to act, no guilt would stand in front of his duties to the people of Astora.


    “You may be peaceful now but you have condemned yourselves with past crimes. You shelter murderers, and ffiends the like which my people have long suffered under. Your halls breed countless demons, mosters, and miscreants which may yet pose a danger for those outside the Veil. For the gods of anor londo and lost sentinels you will pay the ultimate price.”
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Thu Jul 19, 2012 7:52 pm

    Her face was now the mask of pure hate. A wild wind swept through the arena, kicking up snow, and white whirlwind began to form behind the knights, whose cries of dismay were drowned out by Priscilla’s heavy words.

    “Thou condemn us for the lives of gods not your own? Thou condemn us because of the violence others brought upon us? You would’st condemn me for not being accepted by my own family, mine own mother and father, my children for their differences, and their own inability to adhere to your tenets? Villain I name thee Oscar, of Oscar’s blood, he who stood before me and accepted thus. And his son who could not, does this slaughter make you feel closer to him?”


    Oscar stepped forth to meet her challenge, his armooujr clinked as chain links struck heavy Astoran plate.


    “If you cannot be dissuaded your blood is on your own hands knights. You make great claims but many
    of your own have died today. Now you and those you have brought with you face the same fate.” Her curt reply.


    She spun around twisting her scythe in a dance so fast that the eyes of mortals could scarcely keep up and the snow around her leapt up in a frenzied dance.


    The snow grew thicker and thicker and the knights faded from my sight, lost in the swirling maelstrom which whipped against my exposed face with the intent to scour the skin from it,

    Oscar leapt at her, striking with his spear but the snow dissipated and the Lifehuntress was gone an eerie laugh echoing amongst the pillars.

    “Hold steady knights.” Isaac called out, rallying the Slayers. “She is a master of invisibility; watch the snow for her footprints!”


    As soon as the words left his mouth a there was a shrill whistling in the air.

    “MOVE!” Oscar screamed, but it was too late.

    Knight Slayer Ammeren was cleft in twain by an ephemeral blade before he could so much as move, its hidden curve sliced through plate, leather, and flesh. A crimson rain descended upon the knights, who hurriedly formed a spear wall.

    Next to fall was Ser Jacelyn who seem to have been picked up by the invisible assailant and thrown from the arena into gorge below, his screams echoed back up to my ears.


    “Do not lash out blindly, work together to find her.” Ser Aeter this time, drawing from his years of experience in destroying Dragonspawn. “ We ought cleanse the air of this foul gale!”

    “Aye” Isaac replied. He closed his eyes and muttered a few words
    before light exploded form his helm illuminating the area and driving the
    snow before his faithful aura.


    Through all this I stood terrified, sword drawn but not moving, I did not know what to do. The knights moved about sweeping the area methodically.

    I stayed close to Isaac but the snow made it hard to keep up.

    A distance opened between us and I twisted around spotting Oscar. I moved towards him thinking it would be safe. But my movement gave me away.

    “FAREL RUN!” the scream came across. I turned to see Ser Aeter staring behind me in horror. I
    twisted around to see Priscilla, now materialised, her scythe cutting a swathe straight for me. Time slowed, the farction of a second became like an eternity, and then a force hit me from the side followed by a grunt of pain.


    I hit the ground covered in steaming blood. I looked up to see the queen above me, and now, how clearly I could see her face now falling back into obscurity.

    II realised, then, that I was covered in the heavy slick of dark blood.

    I glanced around, my vision blurring as the madness of the melee went on. Priscilla's scythe cut into the assembled knights, rending armour, and causing horrendous wounds, even on those who were barely touched by the dragon bone blades.

    There was the sound of pained, labored breathing from next to me, and a I became acutely aware of a weight on my legs.

    I glanced down and the sight chilled my blood, and still does to this day.

    Ser Isaac lay on top of me, his plate mail and chain links torn asunder, blood pumping from a fist sized crater in his chesthis lifeblood spilling out onto the snow. Dark crimson on pure white".


    When Aeter had cried out Oscar had acted on instinct.


    A lightning spear in his hand, he threw it as Isaac saved me and was running before I hit the ground. It was only as Priscilla dodged his spear that he noticed her victim, his friend and partner grievously injured. I saw the rage in his eyes, the anger overtaking him. “Dragonspawn *****!” His battle cry.

    His spear swept at Priscilla and the fight began.

    The two battling with all their skill. Yet it was clear even to me who would win. While Oscar was but a mere human and terribly outclassed by her in terms of strength and speed his rage lent him what he lacked and he danced amongst Priscilla’s blows. They formed an exotic waltz, steel clashed with dragon bone, blood was drawn from beneath fur and armor alike, and still they fought on.

    Bit by bit he drove her backwards under his onslaught, her scythe needing massive sweeps to wield effectively though Oscar’s furious jabs forced her into a defensive stance. Closer and closer he came to her neck.

    Here it could be said was a turning point in the battle, perhaps. Here I felt the icy chill of death settle over the sanctum, and despite the heat of Isaac’s steaming blood I began to shiver.

    A crow cawwed from on high, settled in one of the overhead catwalks, who was answered by another, and another, until the noise of battle was drowned out under a sea of screeching.

    I was horrified. Crows were ever the harbinger of the Crow. Then i heard him speak, like a thousand needles, and a thousand death screams his mind invaded mine.

    “Not today old friend” the ghostly whisper echoed across the battlefield. A shadow detached itself from a ledge and dropped down gracefully , one of its curved swords blocking Oscar’s spear.


    Oscar stared in hatred at the figure “Avrik” he spat “So you “live”.

    “Yes... I’m ever a friend to those destined to die. Friend Oscar!” came the sibilant hiss.


    The duel began anew as Oscar fought the pair but even his skill was outmatched. Oscar ducked beneath a high blow which had been aimed to take his head off and countered with a thrust to where he knew Avrik’s heart would have been, it had been effective before. But the Hand of Nito pirouetted away with preternatural grace and struck again weaving between thrusts and sweeps attacking from all sides.


    The dragonslayers stood in horror, unable to comprehend these events, but one knights moved to save Oscar. A flaming sword swept in forcing Avrik to slip away. Isaac, one hand holding his chest stepped in to backup Oscar, driving Avrik back injured as he was.

    Even so the skeletal Gravelord danced away, unscathed by the knights long sword.

    “Isaac?” Oscar’s exclaimation. “I had thought you dead my friend. How do you live?”

    The Sunlit Knight swayed in place, threatening to fall to his knees at any second, blood continuing to pour down his chest. It was then Oscar must have seen it.

    Isaac’s flesh was knitting itself together , slowly but surely the strands of flesh were reforming into an unblemished surface of skin. However the knight looked pale and I began to understand. Blood. Though he could repair his body to near enough perfect condition the knight could not begin to replace the quantity of blood his wound had cost him.

    He stumbled, and Aeter caught him. “Oscar. By your leave I will take Isaac from here.”

    The knight prince nodded uncertainly. It would be a great strain on him to lose such a good frend and powerful ally but Isaac was needed here fighting the half breed.

    Knowing it was his duty Oscar stepped forwards once again to meet his foe, yet he had not move more than two steps when his spear met steel. It was neither Priscilla’s blade nor Avrik’s. And Oscar’s eyes widened in horror.”

    An Excerpt from Farel Gharlens Retaking Lordran Part II



    This one was a combined effort between Doughguy and I so props to him for the basic outline and great depiction of the Knights.
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    Post by WhatDoesThePendantDo? Thu Jul 19, 2012 7:54 pm

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    Last edited by WhatDoesThePendantDo? on Thu Jul 19, 2012 8:00 pm; edited 1 time in total
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Thu Jul 19, 2012 7:54 pm

    Lol
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    Post by ZikoLogiKa NL Thu Jul 19, 2012 11:42 pm

    great storytelling Viral ,

    Excellent writing & awesome choice of words

    Anthology of the 1st Painted War ( Fiction based on the  Lifehunter vs Noble Knights) 1330857165

    I remember reading another piece of Lore from you somewhere around this forum which I thought is amazing
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Thu Jul 19, 2012 11:58 pm

    The Etraiu bit? Thats still to come. Plus our awesome victory and betrayal.
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    Post by Shkar Fri Jul 20, 2012 1:03 am

    Thus has bren the single worst cliffhanger of all time.
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Fri Jul 20, 2012 1:36 am

    No seriously I will get it done
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    Post by Federally Fri Jul 20, 2012 3:03 am

    Lol how many times have I read that cliff hanger and not seen the conclusion?
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    Post by DoughGuy Fri Jul 20, 2012 3:05 am

    Not reading it till its all up.
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Fri Jul 20, 2012 3:28 am

    okay
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    Post by ZikoLogiKa NL Fri Jul 20, 2012 1:28 pm

    ViralEnsign_ wrote:The Etraiu bit? Thats still to come. Plus our awesome victory and betrayal.

    Im not sure if that's the part Im referring to , at first I thought Ive read it in Shkar's ''lore of the covenants'' thread , but unfortunately that's not the case.

    It was quite a long story consisting of 3 or 4 parts if I remember correctly..it was very good stuff man , a lot of words were like of alien origin to me :silent:
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Fri Jul 20, 2012 6:07 pm

    "Etraiu paced the courtyard impatiently, amidst a sea of armoured forms, shattered spears, and singed headstones, inwardly scolding himself for losing the wall. The knights had mounted a new attack and had forced the Eclipse from the ramparts after a swirling melee which had cost both sides dozens of lives.

    Next to him a cry went up from the Lifehunter lines, and a hail of barbed shafts cut into their ranks, killing several and wounding more. Etraiu drew forth his massive machete and ducked behind its demonic curve to avoid the rain of arrows as best he could, though two managed to slip past his guard. The first hit the brass plate that protected his thigh, leaving him with a melon sized welt, while the other clipped one of the protrusions on his crown which skittered away into the snow five meters distant.

    He glanced around anxiously, looking for Hihime’s lithe form, more oft than not his Lady wife was accompanied by a halo a writhing flames radiating an idyllic light. His eyes picked out the pale, wispy form of Piastol, her great dragonbone scythe slung over her should, misty grey eyes fixated on him. He also saw Nevyn stretched out on a litter, the towering Halfbreed was covered with a vast number of wounds, his bandages soaked with a dark black blood though his talon gripped his weapon with vigour. There too was “Mad” Plaggius, happily dancing amongst the headstones singing a song of doom and dismay all the while telling a pile of dead knights not to bleed on his shoes too much.

    All about him was a storm of chaos. More Lifehunters streamed into the courtyard now, some fleeing the new onslaught, others came to draw the dead away to the safety of the Annex building, while others dashed about to and fro with arrows and ragged banners slung under their arms.

    “Hihime!” He called out, his deep voice rang out with the lilt of Catarina, turning heads. “The hell are you looking at?! Get back to your positions!”

    His anger was building, flecks of red tinged his world, his heart beat stronger as adrenaline pulsed throughout his system. And then it all seemed to slip away. He felt a cool hand lightly fall upon his shoulder and turned to find Hihime waiting, her eyes belied concern for him.

    “Yes?” Her voice was smooth like flowing water.

    The anger seemed to melt away from him, his vision returned to normal, muscles unclenched, and he released his grip in the massive blade in his hand which fell to the ground kicking up snow.

    “Good” He muttered, somewhat relieved, though his tone belied nothing, and remained as monotonous as ever. Another flight of arrows shot overhead, rattling off the ramparts where a few scattered elements of the Eclipse continued to hold off the knights, causing them to duck low.

    The roar of a half dozen fires seemed to drown out all but the screams of the Eclispe officers who had thrown their weight against the main gate to hold the knights at bay, while Hihime was calling on a dozen Lifehunters to put out the flaming Annex building. In the dim glow of the inferno the Painted World was transformed into a helscape, the hollowed buildings were gutted and many of the hollowed denizens lay slain, while corpses lay unburied amidst the graves where the knights had attempted to breach the defences, and the outer walls lay in ruin as dozens of lightning spears had chiselled away the solid granite.

    The Hand was gone. He had left the front lines almost an hour earlier to attend the Painted Lady when Oscar and a cadre of Dragon Hunters had smashed the Gravesworn’s lines at the gaping rent by the West Gate. Avrik was also gone, who knew where the grim wraith had disappeared to, some saw him slain as the a dozen tower knights assaulted the breach, others saw him sprout wings and flee taking him Murder with him. What ever had happened Etraiu was not sorry to see him gone.

    Though the Hand is a different matter entirely he thought to himself. With their leader gone many of the Lifehunters had lost hope and the lines had waivered at all main centres of resistance leaving Oscar’s knights to concentrate their forces and push up the hill to the courtyard.

    The battle may have been lost had not Etraiu, Hihime, and the remnants of the Eclipse had joined the battle, charging down the stone steps from the main tower right into the flank of the knights main thrust at the Annex building. The fighting had been bitter, knights lay strewn about the statue of the Maiden, with near on half their number of the Eclipse torn and rent by their sides. Here Etraiu’s great sword had cut a swarthe through their armoured forms, steel and flesh pulping under his punishing barrage of swings, while at his side Hihime had set her foes ablaze with dazzling displays of pyromancy and dexterity. Even the wounded Halfbreeds had joined the battle, Nevyn leading the charge, now supported by two of his kin, his claws punching through the helms of two of Oscars trusted lieutenants.

    However now the fighting had ended, at least for the time being, the sacrifice had become apparent, and the sounds of fighting from Priscilla’s inner sanctum were echoing through the abandoned hallways. The mutterings had started again. Ild Nys, one of the two who had given Nevyn her shoulder, and the Halfbreeds wanted to rush to her side and cut the head off the beast now. “Mad” Plaggius wanted the elbows of every third knight for some kind of sculpture he’d envisioned but seemed to be cutting the ears off the dead and making necklaces. Hihime wanted to secure the courtyard and evacuate the wounded before the knights mounted another assault.

    And while all plans seemed to have merit to Etraiu he could not help but feel that there was only one course of action. His wounds pained him greatly, and fatigue was weighing heavily on his armoured form. He sunk to a knee, balancing his weight on the pommel of his sword. He glanced about, noting Hihime’s concerned stare, all about the remains of his legion milled about in confusion, the acrid smell of smoke and the toxic gases of the engorged hollows filled the air, and while such was not poisonous to the inhabitants of the Painted world it still filled the lungs with an unpleasant sense of rot."
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Fri Jul 20, 2012 6:08 pm

    Sensing the moment was right the hulking fighter struggled to his feet with a grunt, a stream of steam like dragons breathe in the chill, biting air.

    “Gather!” His low baritone cut through the crackle of burning rafters and the clatter of arrow on stone. The order was spoken and the Eclipse took up formation in a series of ragged groups and hollow ranks. Few would hesitate to heed one of the Councilman’s orders for fear of incurring his wrath. Even a few of the wounded left the safety of the Annex to form up.

    “Hear me. We fought well enough this day. You fought hard on every imaginable front, at the Gates, on the Walls, even in the Sewers beneath our feet. You fought on the cliff and the paths and you threw them back every time. No knight pierced our lines save the chosen of Oscar himself, and even then you bloodied them beyond recognition!”

    This drew a few ragged cheers from the Lifehunters, they all stood at attention now waiting on his words.

    For a second Etraiu hesitated, he knew not why but the words would not come. The crown he wore seemed to weigh heavily on him as the gravity of the situation truly dawned on him. His normally stony visage began to give way to horror and would have but for voice at his side.

    Hihime’s voice was cool as ever and soft enough that only he could hear.

    “Worry not. You’ve done what you can, and they all know it.”

    When his eyes belayed their doubt she put a hand to his mailed fist.

    “They knew what they wanted when the war began. See how the idolise you; see how you gave them hope when it was gone. I flatter you not husband, you earnt their love. Lead them now. Either we die here and now or we die running and truth be told I can’t throw fire on the run.”

    She grinned at him, straight white teeth glinting as the writhing halo of flame danced and spun.

    Again he felt himself relax unbidden. His doubts were gone, his mind clear, and one course of action presented itself to him. Seizing the moment he gathered his voice, low and sonorous it echoed with a new found strength.

    “Aye it’s as I said. You all fought hard when and where we needed it. Our Lady needs us now more than ever. With Oscar and his knights so close to her she needs us to win the war out here. I’ve felled twenty knights. What about you?!”

    He pointed an iron shod finger at one of the remaining Gravesworn. She wore a robe of the purest midnight black, its tattered ends danced on whims of a cool breeze in a way that reminded him of damp ashes, She carried twin Scythes, their great curved crescents were too large and too heavy for a living man to wield.

    She knelt. “Andrastiea....If it pleases you my lord.” Came her quiet voice. “I, myself, have impaled twelve knights. Their bodies are yonder as Avrik instructed.”

    With a claw like hand she indicated to the bodies of the knights run through by a dozen stakes in a cruel lattice, the holy warriors bodies now contorted for all time in a macabre scene of misery.

    “And you Nevyn?”

    The dragons voices was pained but tinged with a fierce pride. “The Halfbreeds took near on forty my Lord. I killed eight myself and helped Valinthor and Sylthyk push half a dozen from the ledges.”

    The assembled Lifehunters roared with approval and beat their weapons on the cobbles and gravestones at their feet. Many more told of their own kills, taking turns to outdo one another.

    “Aye brothers” Etraiu’s voice called above the cacophony. “Let us take the fight to them again. We are all heroes here! You survived where others did not. I am no man to praise you without cause, I tolerate no violence to your brothers, I mete out justice without compassion so that we all may live free. I fight your battles so you may remain safe. Drake...”

    From the crowd a silver armoured figure rose above the others, a great halberd in hand, though a malign energy radiated from within the plate mail.

    “take your brothers along the flank. Harry them, terrify them, and make them flee! I want no knight to stand before you.”

    The dread knight nodded and with a single sweeping gesture drew the Gravesworn with him, who took up a position at the right gatehouse.

    “Piastol?” He called tentatively, cringing inwardly as the pale, preening woman stood, taking a provocative stance, probably for his benefit. Beside him Hihime stiffened, her face barely concealing her anger.

    “Oh Etraiu I knew it was a matter of time until you called on me. How may I serve?” she replied, her voice promising more than she said.

    The leader of the Eclispe sighed and placed a hand over his face in a defeated gesture. “I’m promoting you to acting Captain. I don’t care what you do or how you do it just make them bleed as you usually do.

    And with an excited squeal she hefted her dragonbone scythe and made for the left flank with her unit.

    “The rest of you will follow me. The Hand is not here and won’t be coming back any time soon. As such you will obey me. Is that clear?”

    With that he stalked away, Hihime hot on his heels to the centre of the battle line. The remaining men hesitated, some moved to follow, others stayed where they were until Piastol gave them a withering look and drew a think finger across her throat. The rest jumped up immediately to join them.
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    Post by Rin Fri Jul 20, 2012 7:30 pm

    With their leader gone and their numbers decreasing, the lifehunters have no hope in winning. Or do they? For out of the long forgotten passages hope enters, 3 that have been long forgotten Yuan Xiaotian the Egghead Monk filled with rage and madness so pure it corrupts the very land he steps on, Hawkeye Drake a master of the bow that can only matched by hes own master ,and the Dragon Priest Rin of the Ash

    coz i can XD
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Fri Jul 20, 2012 7:48 pm

    OH I can write you into the proper lore if you want. Can you Pm me some Bio's on them?
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    Post by Federally Fri Jul 20, 2012 10:54 pm

    Haven't read it yet Viral but I must say "F*** Yeah! More Lore!"
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    Post by WhatDoesThePendantDo? Fri Jul 20, 2012 10:57 pm

    I'm waiting for Viral to officially finish his writings before I say anything concrete about all this. Last time I posted on here, I got the stink eye.

    I'm still not sure if it's safe...
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    Post by Forum Pirate Fri Jul 20, 2012 11:41 pm

    I definitely like the newer segment as well, I'm glad you understand the characters you didn't create well enough to do them justice. I rarely see that done properly.
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Fri Jul 20, 2012 11:42 pm

    I just finished another bit now here you guys go. Fresh off of the press.....

    “ The gates shuddered under the weight of the Knight’s onslaught, their massive battering rams now fully brought to bear their wrath against the solid oak, buckling slightly with each blow. The scream of twisting iron bars and shattering of wood rang out across the courtyard that composed the main keep of the Lifehunter’s once proud bastion breaking on the tightly packed ranks of determined defenders.

    They stood there, silent, unflinching, dutifully, knowing that the main force of the knights would soon be upon them. They shamed themselves not, no man wept for his lost family, nor for fear of death, not even those who were wounded were exceptions from this as stood to doubled over in silent pain.

    The right flank was entirely silent where the remaining Gravesworn had taken up a defensive formation, their twisted and evil forms hunched over in malign prayer to their Lord Nito. Even “Howling Mad” Plaggius was quiet, his desire for ears now fully sated, his curiosities now focused on a small rent in his armour which seemed to be causing him no small amount of discord. Next to him was Wulf, his thick mane of snow white hair cascaded down the back of his head, his face covered in not only the blood and gore of his enemies but also his own where a knight had almost opened his face when a spike from a narrowly avoided mornigstar had torn the corner of his mouth. Thick canine fangs protruded from beneath thin, pale lips which seemed to curl up into a wolfish smile as his piercing blue eyes fixated directly on the gate ahead. At the forefront of the assembly of dead creatures stood the Dead knight Drake. Armoured in the black steel of his forbearers who journeyed with Gwyn into the Kiln of the First Flame he cut a striking figure. Taller than the other Gravesworn by a head, he towered over his foes cleaving them in twain with sweeping blows of his mighty halberd.

    The center was held by the Eclipse, veterans of every conceivable field of combat, their lines, strong and proud, serried ranks of spear and sword armed infantry stood abreast, their arms gleaming amongst the falling snows. Here was where the line had been strengthened the most, the wounded had shuffled forwards after the speech using broken spears as crutches, or leaning against their brothers so as to remain standing. Here was where Etraiu would make his stand. Garbed in the thick brass armour he traditionally wore capped with the Crown of the Dark Sun, a gift from Gwyndolin, he was a beacon of resolve for his allies who at present were busy attending to his many wounds. Foremost amongst these was his Lady Wife Hihime, whose flowing orange robes and writhing halo of flame were tempered only by the coolness of he compassion as she dabbed at his forehead with a wet rag.

    On the left glaring at the pair with a mixture of disgust and longing was Piastol and her Screamers. Clad in little more than some thin cloth around her chest, a pair of mismatching bracers, and some padded leather breaches she was perhaps one of the less dignified warriors on the field....Yet the massive Dragonbone Scythe she had hung over her shoulders commanded extreme respect from both her followers and most all of the Lifehunters, as snide comments about her would not be tolerated under pain of castration, or so she threatened. She flicked a long lock of silvery hair back over an ear and turned away hurriedly ensuring her formation of Screamers were up to scratch. The Screamers happened to be a band of Lifehunters that had come to follow Piastol and revere her as somewhat of an idol, however their screams if angony during the night let most of the Painted World knowing exactly how she treasured their loyalty. In battle they would surge for hacking and slashing with no regard bearing Piastol herself on a litter ensuring she could cut the head off any man stupid enough to face her.

    All along the front lines the mutterings began to cease as the first of the iron bars, that held the mighty portal in place, gave way. Weapons were raised, and the clash of steel on steel rang out as the second buckled under the Knights scorn.... Then with a sonorous roar the gates blew open in a spray of wooden splinters and the Knights poured into the breach.

    The Lifehunters tried to counter the charge head on but a flurry of activity in the chaos ahead saw a volley of lightening spears cut through their ranks demolishing the first shield wall and stopping their momentum at the gatehouses.

    Then came the Berenike knights. Lumbering behemoths of steel plate and black iron great swords, charged in amongst the shattered front ranks bringing death and dismay to the Liefhunter lines. Then in reserve came the ordered Astoran spearmen and the remnants of the Throlundian Cleric Priests who set about pushing back the Screamers and Gravesworn from the wings.

    The day could well have been lost then and there if not for the valiant efforts of Neyvn and Wulf who threw themselves against the Berenike Knights in a display of ferocious animalistic rage. Wulf narrowly ducked to avoid a blow determined to take the top of his head off before striking upwards at the Knight’s exposed face, putting three feet worth of steel through his face before turning on the others. Neyven, wounded badly during his combat with the Thorolundian Priest of Sun, was managing less well. He took another wound, the blade that caused it slipped between his iron hard scales and into the soft flesh below, bringing him to his knees. When the Knight rose up with the intention of giving the finishing blow Neyvn let loose a roar so loud it staggered the great warrior, before following up with a long spray of dragon’s fyre which turned the steel plate into a melting pot some thousand degrees hot.

    While these two held the wavering lines in check the second shield wall of the Lifehunters regrouped and under Etriau’s unflinching command charged into the battle once more.

    All about the courtyard was awash in a sea of crimson blood and severed limbs. Here and there wounded knights and Lifehunters would lay dying, screaming out their anger, hate, regrets to the swirling tides of combat that surrounded them. Men were trampled, pushed down under the weight of numbers, others went down with a spear in their guts, and some even simply lay down to die.

    The solid clash of steel on steel greeted the combatants while flights of arrows continued to stream into the melee with little regard for human life. Sudden bursts of holy energy would be met with dazzling displays of pyromancy and spells would scream overhead exploding off in the rear of both armies’ lines amidst screams of terror and pain.

    Etraiu’s mighty blade claimed many knights that day felling several with each laboured swing, cleaving mail, flesh, and bone with no distinction. On the left the Screamers began to buckle and Piastol went down in the middle of a ring of spears, though seconds later the air was rent with the cacophony of laughter as she set about her work.

    Drake’s forces on the other hand had their flank well under control. The Astoran’s were finding no purchase in the solid lines the Gravesworn had formed. Andrastiea “the Impaler” was at the forefront parrying spear thrusts with her Scythes then darting forwards in a display of preternatural speed and grace, felling more knights as she went. At one point “Mad” Plaggius climbed the gatehouse and launched himself into the ranks of Thoroludian Priests losing an arm to a well placed sword swing but tearing the throats out of four men before returning to the Gravesworn lines, arm held hight above his head in triumph, a satisfied grinned stretched out across his face.

    However this assault was joined by another. Oscar, knowing he would be unable to be present during the conflict had ensured that his men knew of the various paths up the mountain and so had dispatched a team of experienced knights, composed of mages led by a “Serious” Knight and a “White” Knight to flank the defenders lines. Finding no guards at the palisade wall by the cliffs the flanking force was unhindered when they clambered onto the shelf of stone and impaled bodies, and found themselves with few casualties, though some men had fallen during the climb.

    They ploughed into the rearguard of the Gravesworn with all the force of an avalanche sweeping through Andrastiea’s lines of defence and into channelling Bonecallers who were attempting to summon Black Phantoms to aid in the fight. Drake however was quick to react and called his men off of the right gate house and redirected them to face the new threat, he himself striding to the front lines to remove the head of two well armoured knights, one a woman, the other a young man.

    Seeing his lines of failing on the left and right Etraius sounded the horn to “fall back” to the statue of the Maiden where the remaining Eclipse and Piastol, her Screamers having died to a man taking down their own number in knights, stood firm in a turtle formation. Unfortunately the Gravesworn were being dragged away from the courtyard by the winds of battle and were lost from sight."
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    Post by Federally Sat Jul 21, 2012 10:39 am

    I like very much! You're a very good writer! I very much look forward to the rest!
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    Post by ZikoLogiKa NL Sat Jul 21, 2012 10:45 am

    Yeah he really is a very good writer and storyteller !

    Good stuff , but my character's name is mispelled , :roll:

    it's Adrasteia Vrykolakas, meaning inescapable ''vampire'' in greek


    Last edited by ZikoLogiKa NL on Sat Jul 21, 2012 11:03 am; edited 1 time in total
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    Post by DoughGuy Sat Jul 21, 2012 10:47 am

    Tut tut Viral, how can you expect to be a proffesional writer if you cant spell a long and complicated name by memory silly

    Nice name Ziko.
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    Post by ZikoLogiKa NL Sat Jul 21, 2012 10:55 am

    Im really not calling him out for it , haha I just know he wants to type it properly in the final product as writer king
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    Post by ViralEnsign_ Sat Jul 21, 2012 10:48 pm

    Will change the name man. Was going on memory. Sorry about that

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