Dragon Bard
Prelude
The sound of crickets chattering stained the fresh night's aura. It was an anomaly that had continued to rise in rebellion against the Sun, as it's last rays of warmth bathed the land in strips, broken by the trees that stood guard on the horizon. A lofty breeze blew across the field, it's touch as timid as a newborn baby, as it softly churned the grasses and leaves in unison. The place smelled of earth, fresh dirt and the sweet smell of a late summer honeysuckle that filled the lungs with an entrancing, homely smell.
This place was familiar. The trees, the warmth, the ambiance, all of which played soft melodies against the senses, urging their masters to flow with the serenity, to glide with the pleasantry. The perfect place to nap, to sleep, and to never wake up. The Western Vale of Cloudon... Such a dream.
-----
Dream... Dream... Awake??
"Hey you! Wake up! You don't want to die do you?"
"I said get you ass up!"
A stout hand grasped his tunic and his body screamed in protest against the forces as he was lifted to his feet. The pain was immediately replaced by confusion. Was he not just in cloudon? What's going on?
New sounds drifted into the ear of this one. Once wondrous melodies that tickled his inner machinations had been replaced with the screech of metal on metal, of vigorous yells, and of the moans and screams of what seemed to be dying people. It smelled of burnt flesh, leather of something that he could only describe as rotten corpses. As his eyes adjusted to the level of light that jabbed at them, he realized where he was.
Two days had passed since the execution of the King. Two long and arduous days of rebellion that had been initiated with the bloody coup. The rebels, upstarts and prisoners of past wars, had somehow obtained freedom, weapons and armor, and the will to fight. The mastermind, though not known as of now, was clearly supposed to be an ally to the late king. As the troops of the city had been pushed back, it was his job, Sir Charles Bastion, to lead the rear defense in respect to the retreat situation.
As they had made their way to the city gates, there was an ambush. Charles, one of the last mounted knights left in the city, was immediately attacked, leading to him being cast from his mount, being rendered unconscious by some misplaced piece of cobblestone from and earlier road project.
Checking his strength, Charles immediately analyzed the situation. His knights had successfully fended off the first wave of the ambush, contrary to the surprise inflicted on them all, and had slowly began to retreat to the gates, flanked on either sides by ambushers and would-be rebels, and at the cost of many lives. Quickly, he searched for a means of defense, eager to rejoin his men in their attempt to flee, as the second wave slammed head on into the procession.
Bodies flew past him, the initial speed of the pursuers pushing back the line of lightly armored knights. Screams erupted as men lost their physical wills to live, an induced feeling brought on by the knick of a blade through the heart, or a bolt through the eyes. The knights were not defenseless, however, as they quickly recovered and rebuilt the line. They were fighting a losing battle, but they knew they could not afford to lose.
Finding a discarded dai-katana, Charles tested the weight against his strength. It would be a little slower than he was used to, but dire situations like the one at hand rarely called for complaints on such minute conflicts of morality.
It was his job to give these men a chance at survival, and it was entrusted to him by the King himself to get the crown out of the kingdom.
Enraged at his own stupidity for not seeing an ambush, Charles barked "Fall back, Front line, steadfast and stand strong, second line cover our sides... Rear line pick up the pace, we're dying here. Archers, send volleys flying in the directions we're heading. there are too many behind us, but you may be able to help the advance. Colonel, i'm counting on you to get me to those gates, damn it!"
Suddenly aware of their commanders status, the Knights immediately responded, their morality heightened and their spirits reinvigorated at hearing their commandant's orders. running forward to assist the forward line, Sir Charles Bastion yelled his battle cry, raising the dai-katana as if to rid the whole battlefield of his enemies. Blood rushed to his head as the adrenaline of battle pumped through his veins. Yelling once more as his blade came down, its cleaving arc catching his nearest victim across his neck, then continuing through until the man no longer had a head attached to his neck, the real battle had finally commenced.
---------
Please enjoy this prelude as it marks the beginning to an exciting story. This just happens to be something that I came up with to come up with, written as I went along, and edited to only a very small portion of what it should be edited to. I appreciate all thoughts and ideas as well as Muffins and COOKIES!!! Yes, I do believeth I am a fat man.
Anyways, enjoy my exciting Prelude to a Dream.
The sound of crickets chattering stained the fresh night's aura. It was an anomaly that had continued to rise in rebellion against the Sun, as it's last rays of warmth bathed the land in strips, broken by the trees that stood guard on the horizon. A lofty breeze blew across the field, it's touch as timid as a newborn baby, as it softly churned the grasses and leaves in unison. The place smelled of earth, fresh dirt and the sweet smell of a late summer honeysuckle that filled the lungs with an entrancing, homely smell.
This place was familiar. The trees, the warmth, the ambiance, all of which played soft melodies against the senses, urging their masters to flow with the serenity, to glide with the pleasantry. The perfect place to nap, to sleep, and to never wake up. The Western Vale of Cloudon... Such a dream.
-----
Dream... Dream... Awake??
"Hey you! Wake up! You don't want to die do you?"
"I said get you ass up!"
A stout hand grasped his tunic and his body screamed in protest against the forces as he was lifted to his feet. The pain was immediately replaced by confusion. Was he not just in cloudon? What's going on?
New sounds drifted into the ear of this one. Once wondrous melodies that tickled his inner machinations had been replaced with the screech of metal on metal, of vigorous yells, and of the moans and screams of what seemed to be dying people. It smelled of burnt flesh, leather of something that he could only describe as rotten corpses. As his eyes adjusted to the level of light that jabbed at them, he realized where he was.
Two days had passed since the execution of the King. Two long and arduous days of rebellion that had been initiated with the bloody coup. The rebels, upstarts and prisoners of past wars, had somehow obtained freedom, weapons and armor, and the will to fight. The mastermind, though not known as of now, was clearly supposed to be an ally to the late king. As the troops of the city had been pushed back, it was his job, Sir Charles Bastion, to lead the rear defense in respect to the retreat situation.
As they had made their way to the city gates, there was an ambush. Charles, one of the last mounted knights left in the city, was immediately attacked, leading to him being cast from his mount, being rendered unconscious by some misplaced piece of cobblestone from and earlier road project.
Checking his strength, Charles immediately analyzed the situation. His knights had successfully fended off the first wave of the ambush, contrary to the surprise inflicted on them all, and had slowly began to retreat to the gates, flanked on either sides by ambushers and would-be rebels, and at the cost of many lives. Quickly, he searched for a means of defense, eager to rejoin his men in their attempt to flee, as the second wave slammed head on into the procession.
Bodies flew past him, the initial speed of the pursuers pushing back the line of lightly armored knights. Screams erupted as men lost their physical wills to live, an induced feeling brought on by the knick of a blade through the heart, or a bolt through the eyes. The knights were not defenseless, however, as they quickly recovered and rebuilt the line. They were fighting a losing battle, but they knew they could not afford to lose.
Finding a discarded dai-katana, Charles tested the weight against his strength. It would be a little slower than he was used to, but dire situations like the one at hand rarely called for complaints on such minute conflicts of morality.
It was his job to give these men a chance at survival, and it was entrusted to him by the King himself to get the crown out of the kingdom.
Enraged at his own stupidity for not seeing an ambush, Charles barked "Fall back, Front line, steadfast and stand strong, second line cover our sides... Rear line pick up the pace, we're dying here. Archers, send volleys flying in the directions we're heading. there are too many behind us, but you may be able to help the advance. Colonel, i'm counting on you to get me to those gates, damn it!"
Suddenly aware of their commanders status, the Knights immediately responded, their morality heightened and their spirits reinvigorated at hearing their commandant's orders. running forward to assist the forward line, Sir Charles Bastion yelled his battle cry, raising the dai-katana as if to rid the whole battlefield of his enemies. Blood rushed to his head as the adrenaline of battle pumped through his veins. Yelling once more as his blade came down, its cleaving arc catching his nearest victim across his neck, then continuing through until the man no longer had a head attached to his neck, the real battle had finally commenced.
---------
Please enjoy this prelude as it marks the beginning to an exciting story. This just happens to be something that I came up with to come up with, written as I went along, and edited to only a very small portion of what it should be edited to. I appreciate all thoughts and ideas as well as Muffins and COOKIES!!! Yes, I do believeth I am a fat man.
Anyways, enjoy my exciting Prelude to a Dream.