A NOTE TO FANS OF TEEN TITANS: This story takes place one thousand years before the conception of Raven and, as such, none of the Titans themselves make an appearance. The narrative primarily focuses on the world of Azarath, Raven's home, and the people who lived there long before it was eventually destroyed.
(Author's Notes:)
This story fills in the gaps provided by the animated television series, Teen Titans, and is not connected to the comic book. While you, the reader, may or may not have different interpretations of what "Azarath" is, to me and this story, all events pertaining, Azarath is an alternate dimension, parallel to that of Earth. Simply put, it is a whole other world. This does not mean that what I have written should be considered fact—after all, the show's writers themselves were not consistent in their own hints of what the enigmatic Azarath could be. Therefore, one may disagree with the content presented in this literature, but such content is not intended to insult the reader's own interpretations, if any.
Premise: A time of peace erupts violently into war with the sudden siege of the city, Grimas Moenia. The people of Azarath are caught off guard by the abrupt onslaught from an opposing religion, the Church of Blood, worshippers of the Eighth Devil. However, a hero by the name of Hallmek stands tall and fast to defend the weak. Nevertheless, everything is not as it appears to be in this world of supernatural power...
Disclaimer: I did not create Azarath—that honor belongs to DC—but I did create the characters in this story.
(/End of Author's Notes)
AZARATH: CHAPTER ONE
"It was too late for Earth, just as it was too late for Azarath."
–Arella, Raven's Mother
"Uprising"
It was the first time the city of Grimas Moenia had seen war.
Being a part of Azarath, it was generally a peaceful place until today. The unnatural carnage began with a scream, a call for help, and then the quiet fall of a guard's helmeted head into the walkway close to the main gate. Guards cried that the alarm be raised, but those cries were silenced too, and bodies fell about. Hallmek opened his eyes and watched as the invasion began in moments.
He had to push past the panicking civilians to get a better look at what was going on. The sound of metal clanging was getting louder: swords were definitely clashing, he thought. Luckily, Hallmek was already wearing his dark-blue iron armor, and he just drew his sword to ready himself for combat. There was a loud "twang" in the distance, and Hallmek knew that an arrow had just been fired; it whisked passed his left ear.
Tall, mustached, and gray-skinned like the rest of the people, Hallmek figured it was time to take up his circular shield as well. Peasants and non-military folk were screaming as they ran passed him, away from the action, and Hallmek was astounded at their complete and utter terror, which looked like children who encounter a ferocious animal for the first time. And while he personally did not come here to fight, Hallmek knew that it was time to do so.
Pulling him back into the frenzied moment of reality was his bearded comrade, Bradshaw, who wore, in contrast, armor that was of a lighter shade and mixed with green—signifying that he was of a lesser rank—but his build was clearly in the peak of adulthood. He had the common color of violet for his hair, unlike Hallmek's gray.
"They're coming, Hallmek!" Bradshaw shouted, punching Hallmek in the shoulder to rouse him awake, "Grab your sword!"
Hallmek cursed himself: he was never so easily distracted. Now, to get ready for several moments of combat that would eventually escalate to minutes if not hours, Hallmek gripped his sword's hilt and gritted his teeth. The air was even thicker with violence and carnage by now, and a single arrow cut through that thickness, but Hallmek was ready for it. He put up his left arm to block and felt the sudden stiffness of an arrow stop in his shield's exterior.
"Bradshaw, would you please engage those archers?" asked Hallmek, a slight streak of frustration and rudeness in his voice, as though he was upset by the irony that arrows came near him when there was an archer by his side as well. His comrade nodded grimly and pulled back on the string of his bow to release an arrow at the foully dressed enemies on top of the surrounding walls. Bradshaw was much more skilled with the bow than anyone Hallmek had ever seen, but he lacked the incentive to take action without order. At least, that's what Hallmek presumed.
The doors to the city burst open and hordes of enemies in black, wielding jagged blades as weapons, charged in demonically. Bradshaw quickly fired an arrow at the final archer on the top of the wall, above these incoming hordes, and made it fall onto its fellows who just entered. Currently out of arrows—not a good thing, considering the matter at hand—Bradshaw grabbed Hallmek by the shoulder and began to shove him back, telling him that it was time to retreat.
The enemies that engaged Hallmek and Bradshaw were the Mortem—once living men and women who were now dead and mindless, corrupted and enslaved because of their immoral lifestyles, they continued to serve the Eighth Devil. Dressed entirely in black, the Mortem wore hooded black robes and bandages that covered and obscured their faces to the point where only their cold, glowing, red eyes could be seen; they made no sounds except that of hissing and wailing. And, one of these foul creatures was foolish enough to come within Hallmek's arm length and meet face-first the tip of his sword.
With that enemy slain, Hallmek turned and followed Bradshaw hastily up a curving flight of stone stairs. It was apparent to him now that the entire city of Grimas Moenia, despite being built into the side of a mountain, was made up of stone stairs (and walls) but hardly any decent fortifications. What was worse was that the oncoming dusk made the Mortem much more difficult to spot in the shadows as they passed.
In fact, one jumped out of a nook and surprised them both.
Hallmek ended its afterlife with decapitation. This Mortem was clearly an archer, and for a moment the two were confused why it had tried to engage them in hand-to-hand combat, but Bradshaw paid it no heed as he picked up its fallen arrows for his own use. Dozens of Mortem scurried about the ground, and Bradshaw was about to take aim against them, but there was a cry of battle from above. Soldiers from Hallmek's company raised their own swords and leapt off the stone terrace, past the flight of stairs on which stood Hallmek and Bradshaw, and down onto the horde below, striking and slashing.
"Looks like we're not the only warriors in this city," Hallmek said with satisfaction and relief.
Bradshaw spoke in haste, "But that doesn't mean we will live any longer! Let's move!"
They ran upwards and were soon on that stone terrace, and black arrows fell about them like rain. This siege would mark the destruction of the city, Hallmek told himself. He and Bradshaw then hastened into a circular courtyard with five statues—presumably of former kings—that marked its boundaries. They would've kept on going, had a young man not approached them from the east side of the courtyard.
He called out to them, "We've been ambushed while trying to exit through the eastern tunnels! People won't be able to escape! We don't have much time! Hurry!"
Suspecting a trap, Hallmek hesitated and grabbed the boy's arm before he could run off, "Just hold on a second, kid. Who are you?"
"I'm Jaspus of the Vaserix," he answered, sounding calm but uneasy, "but you must hurry to the eastern exit if you wish to defend the remaining civilians from the attack. Come on, there'll time for questions later!"
Hallmek was quick to size the young man called Jaspus up and down. He sported no armor, only a plain black collared undertunic and a cardinal-colored overtunic, beneath a maroon-colored, simple, flowing cloak that appeared to be comfortable. He looked almost monastic. Having a lighter shade of gray than Hallmek himself, Jaspus' face was regular-looking, but his hair had a slight flair to it: short and white, not an uncommon color that Hallmek had seen.
Bradshaw broke Hallmek's concentration and answered Jaspus, "We'll do what we can. Lead the way!"
Seeing such charity risk another possible ambush, Hallmek scoffed at Bradshaw, who didn't seem to notice. Jaspus had wheeled around and the three began sprinting back the way that Jaspus had come. The youth led the soldiers into the main hall, Grimas Moenia's largest fortification, and out the easternmost side, into the open of a secondary courtyard, until they came upon three dozen civilians in peasant attire, all pressed up against a stone gate that led into the tunnels of the mountainside.
These were the people that Jaspus spoke of, but there were bodies of soldiers—a few from Hallmek's and Bradshaw's companies—along with those dressed like Jaspus, and even some civilians lying face down. Bradshaw lowered his eyes: these people had not survived the first wave, the one that prompted Jaspus to seek out help. So, Hallmek and Bradshaw drew their weapons to defend them.
TO BE CONTINUED