ACT I - THE BREAKING OF THE BROTHERHOOD 3 years after the overthrow of the tyrant, King Wilson, the new king Richard ruled over the land of Tamoria. After the horrors he had experience under Wilson's rule, he vowed to eliminated the chance of it ever happening again forever.
To do that he had to rule all the lands, but not every nation kneeled to him.
Angered, he waged war on the nations that did not bend to his will. He drafted every available able-bodied man, elf, and dwarf to his armies and sent them forth.
In midst of those armies where his closest companions who ,despite the visible darkness growing within their king, chose to be loyal. They served with him during the dark days under the rule of King Wilson, and now they served under him.
In the third year of the conflict, Tamoria had extended its borders to the barbaric lands of the North and the southern states of Antiopolis, the birthplace of aristocracy. Now it marches to the desert lands of Tarranids a civilization as unknown as it is fierce. For weeks, his armies stagnated on the slopes of Harad-dur, battling the fierce exotic legions of the east.
For many of his companions, this battle was to be the last battle they would fight for him.
A crow flies in the sky, its eyes darting left and right. It screeched as it lowered to the ground. It landed on a brown leather object. He dragged its talons across the leather before hopping forward a few steps. He then dipped its head in somewhere and rose its head again revealing a dark red stain on its black beak. It then repeated this action, each time appearing with more of the red stain than the last.
The crow was standing in the eye-socket of one of the many dead soldiers. His face resembles one of horror. Jaws wide open, screaming as loud as it can, while not screaming at all.
The crow hopped onto the soldiers tongue and began to nip small chunks of it and swallowed it whole. It cawed as it enjoyed its feast.
The field around the soldier was littered with hundreds of others, some with crows feasting, some with desert coyotes, some were too revolting for even the scavengers to feed on,
all dead.
The ground trembled under the crow's meal and it looked forward. It cawed again, one of the coyotes could be seen fleeing the scene.
It cawed again, but then it flew off. The sound of fleeing and frantic footsteps of the followers was replaced by one of anger, hatred, bloodlust, and most of all...
fear.
Soldier's battle cries could be heard from both sides, the ground trembled more, almost resembling an Earthquake. The cries of valor were replaced with cries of agony as arrows could be heard whistling through the air, finding its way to their unfortunate victims.
Then they collided.
Shields and blades.
Axes and spears.
Maces and flails.
All the sadistic tools of warfare collided in that one moment. Shields were shattered, and flesh was torn. Soldiers were beheaded, impaled, sliced in half.
Blood spattered all over the field, both Tamorian and Tarranid.
One of the elven champions, Garth of Atlantia, wielded two finely crafted elven blades. He skillfully parried off several attacks, and made several of his own, striking at limbs, necks, and other weak-points. Suddenly a large, axe-like blade struck his abdomen. His golden, hand-crafted elven armor did little to stop the blade.
Blood oozed from his mouth and the blade sank deeper and deeper.
Another weapon, a club, struck his head, causing his bent helmet to fall off onto the blood-soaked ground. He fell on his back with his eyes to the bright blue sky. A large figure covered the sky with a large spear in his hands. Garth tried to breath, but he was choking on his own blood. The figure angrily pressed his whole weight on the spear, impaling Garth. He shook the spear back and forth before forcefully pulling it out.
Garth breath his last before his head drooped to his side. He was one of the com
"HIYAH!"
A blue-blade struck through the large figure and was quickly pulled out and it fell to its side. Other soldiers in similar armor surrounded him and body.
This one was Kaldur, Garth's kinsem and close friend.
He placed his hand over his face and gently pulled down Garth's eyelids.
"Rest in peace brother, your courage will be remembered."
One of the soldiers in the similar fell in front of him, with his helmet falling off. The two soldiers beside him were quickly slain. Kaldur put on his helmet and thrusted his blade into one of the Tarranids. Before slicing the neck of the other.
"WE HOLD THE LINE HERE!"
Meanwhile on another section of the front, these Tamorians did not fight with grace and precision like their elven counterparts, but with savage brute force and relentless tenacity. On this side, the dwarves and men fought side by side.
A knight wielded a large Halberd and swung it 180 degress killing seven at once. He tried it again only to be blocked by a Tarranid shield. He rotated the Halberd and used the point side of his weapon to pierce the shield and his helmet.
But another ducked under his weapon and moved closer towards him. The knight committed both of his hands to the halberd and had no shield. He was vulnerable.
Then a sword pierce the Tarranid's head, used his kite shield to bash the soldier off of his blade.
"You are lucky that I was there to save you Victor."
"I don't need saving...EVERYBODY DUCK!"
All of the Tamorian soldiers ducked. As he did so he swung his halberd 360 degrees killing a dozen soldiers. The action left him breathless.
"Now's not the time to rest Victor, death is at our doorstep and I'd rather keep it there for you and me."
"I'm not tired...not yet."
"That's more like it."
Victor of dwarven lands of Plorin was among the rare tall species of dwarves. He fought under the eye of veteran gladiators and emerged as a fierce warrior. Some say he had the strength of ten men.
His friend on the other hand was weaker, but no less formidable. Garfield of the house of Mark was born into a pacifist noble family, when he was killed, he was sent to his adoptive family, another noble family. One who praised warfare and thus prepared him for it. And prepared he was.
A blocked a swing with he shield and sliced the ankles of the enemy in front of him. His shield had a long spike on the front used to make his defensive shield a deadly weapon. He frequently pierce the armor of many simply by hitting his enemies with it. His greatsword was an even deadlier weapon. His adoptive father's greatsword.
It's supposed to be held with two-hands, but Garfield had the strength to wield it effectively with one. He easily killed 2 or 3 with one swing. He and Victor had been fighting for days with minutes of break in between. They were tired and wounded still they fight. Fatigue had long since settled in, and more wounds were being delivered.
One of the Tarranids thrusted a spear into the torso of Garfield, piercing the weakspot in his armor and into his flesh. Garfield grunted and staggered backwards, before breaking the spear with his shield and thrusting his sword into his attacker's face. He then spun around to kill 5 soldier who surrounded him.
Throughout the battle arrows from both sides flew all day claiming thousands of lives already and wounded thousands more. One such arrow found its way into Garfield's thigh. The wound caused him to fall on his side.
"Another bloody arrow...ARGH!"
A soldier ran towards him, but Garfield couldn't stand up, and at that moment he didn't possess the strength to lift his sword.
Suddenly an arrow struck the soldier's neck. The hooded figure carried an arrow and thrusted it into a soldier's eye before firing it to kill another. He then ran back to get Garfield.
"Get up."
"Easier said than done, Roy."
Roy tightened his face and pulled up Garfield. He noticed many his allies' soldiers falling left and right. He made whistle, a whistle that caught the attention of his nearby horse, Ollie. He looked at Victor who looked at him back.
"Pull back, we'll send in the next line."
Roy was a ranger of the Starling forest and best of their archers next to his mentor, Oliver. Not much is known about him as the forest-dwellers rarely told secrets to others.
"RETREAT! PULL BACK TO THE CREST OF THE SLOPE!"
Roy got on Ollie and place Garfield in front of him to make sure he won't fall.
"C'mon Ollie."
The horse dragged it left hoof across the ground. The weight of Roy and the armor covered Garfield was very heavy.
"You can do! YOU CAN DO IT!"
Ollie got on its hind legs and fell back on its four hooves before riding off past the fleeing in. The hooves and the men running caused a small dust-storm. He maneuvered his horse left and right to dodge the arrows that rained on them. Many others who had their backs exposed to them were not as lucky.
He got to the crest of the slope where another line of men, elves and dwarves. Their he saw another knight without his helmet on and he bore the ride lion imprinted on his chest plate. He had jet black hair and a stern look on his face. He looks like a younger King Richard and rightly so, he was the King's younger brother.
"It's your turn Jason."
Jason nodded back and put on his helmet.
"DRAW YOUR SWORDS!"
His men did as they were told.
"SHIELDS ON ME!"
Jason ran down the sandy slope followed by the troops under his command. In front of him were thousands of Tarranid troops eager to spill Tamorian blood.
Inside his helmet, Jason smirked. He was eager to make his older brother proud.
"Finally."
As Roy rode down the slope, Rangers and Elven archers could be seen firing arrows over the slope. How they even see the enemy, they do not know.
He rode into their camp that was another 1 km away and stopped. He carried Garfield into one of the tents and placed his body on the table.
"Doctor, deal with this. I must return to the battle."
An elder man with in blood stained robes looked over him.
"It seems you have a portion of a spear embedded in your chest and an arrow in your thigh."
"Thank you Kent for clearing that up."
"That's Dr. Kent Nelson to you."
Nelson snapped his fingers and his helpers carefully removed the armor off of Garfield. Garfield had a white bandaged wrapped around the upper portion of his chest, he's been hurt seriously recently.
First Nelson grabbed the arrow.
"How fingers can you see?"
Garfield raised his head.
"I can't see any fingers."
"Well, if you have to know..I'm holding up FIVE!"
He swiftly pulled out the arrow and dropped it onto the floor. Garfield squeezed his eyes shut but didn't dare make a noise. Nelson then used his small pliers to remove any remaining arrow fragments from his wound.
He then wrapped a white bandage around his thigh.
"Ok...the spear is going to be a bigger problem."
"Was that supposed to be a joke?"
"Not in the slightest...Nurse, prepare my emergency tools."
Garfield's eyes widened.
"What?"
"I'm sorry Garfield, looks like I'll have to perform surgery on this one."
Garfield lowered his head in anticipation for the excruciating pain. He looked to his left and saw a women pushing a cart with all of the tools in it. All of the tools were sharp and serrated.
"Just make sure I live through this one."
Garfield walked out of the tent with bandages covering almost his entire torso. He looked up at the slope and saw that the archers were still firing. He sighed.
He looked up at a large tent on top of a hill. That's where the King resided. He glared at the tent and made his way towards it. But not before putting on his armor, he can't go into the tent in his undergarments.
Despite his aching muscles, he ran up the hill towards the tent, bypassing soldiers as they looked at the beleaguered knight. It was twilight and the torches along the pathway were lit.
As Garfield entered the tent, 2 heavily armored guards armed with halberds stepped in front of him.
"Allow him. He is a friend."
The guards walk to the sides of the tent where they belong. Richard was sitting on his throne with his legs crossed and a crown on his head. He was wearing the armor for kings even though he didn't fight at all. He had a bored expression and seemed to look at Garfield with little care.
"What brings you here? Good news I hope."
"Richard-"
"Uh uh uh, address me correctly."
Garfield reluctantly kneeled on one foot. Although he was wearing his helmet, he was furious at Richard's arrogant behavior.
"Your majesty, today has been the same as it has been every other day. We've made absolutely no progress. We're taking in huge losses and enemy numbers seem to get only larger."
Richard stretched his hand out and a maid placed an apple on it. He ate the apple while looking at Garfield.
"What are you trying to suggest? Hmm...that those savages are better than our armies, that those savages can defeat even the legendary knights and champions of our lands?"
"No, your majesty. Only that I think...I think it is best if we retreated to a position more defend-able or at least to a place where we can rest and replenish our numbers."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you suggesting that we should run and let them take back lands that we have fought so hard for?"
Garfield got even more furious. He grinds his teeth to prevent him from screaming.
"No offense your majesty, but as far as I'm concern, those would be the lands that I and many others have fought for whilst you sat on your throne watching us butcher the enemy or getting butchered ourselves. You're no better than a deserter!"
Richard gripped the sides of his chair so hard its creaked echoed throughout the tent.
"You dare speak to me with such malice?"
"I already am, aren't I?"
Richard stood up and took out his sword. Garfield did the same. Suddenly, 20 of Richard's bodyguards surround Garfield with Halberds. Garfield was good, but he knew that he was at a disadvantage.
"Another evil word that comes from your tongue, or an evil thought that comes from your head, and you'll be executed."
Garfield stayed silent.
"Now go back to the front, it'd be a shame if you died a traitor."
Garfield gripped the handle on his sword, getting ready to pounce.
"What? No witty retort? Has the great jester Garfield run out of horrible jokes to tell?"
Garfield put back the sword and kneeled on his one foot again.
"Yes your majesty. I shall return to the fighting as you instructed."
"Good...Now off with you, your contaminated this tent."
"Yes, your majesty."
Suddenly, Victor and Kaldur walked into the tent, breathing heavily. Richard looked at them with a suspicious eye.
"How goes the battle?"
"The enemy have been routed and we have set up camp half a league from here."
Richard clapped his hands once and smiled. He then wrapped his arm around Garfield.
"See what did I tell you? The savages have lost and we have won. There's nothing to worry about."
He looked back at Kaldur and Victor.
"As much as I enjoy good news, I could have found out myself. You should be preparing the army for their next battle."
Kaldur stepped up.
"We didn't come here to celebrate our victory your majesty. We bring ill tidings."
And just like that Richard's smile turned to a frown.
"What ill tidings?"
Victor then spoke.
"It...it's about your brother."
Richard's eyes narrowed while Garfield (who's face was covered) stared in disbelief.
Jason's body lay on a pile of branches with his armor on. He was struck by 15 arrows, 13 of them in the chest. Other bodies were placed on piles of wood. Garth of Atlantia, Kon El of the Cloudy Mountains, and Leonid Kovar of the Southern States. Although they were close friends of Richard, Jason's death affected him most.
He was kneeling on the ground with his head on Jason's chestplate. A faint sobbing noise could, but the companions remained silent.
Richard stood up and looked at Kaldur.
"What of the others?"
"Garth was slain by a spear, Kon El through brute force to the head, and Kovar by having his throat slit."
"What of the others?"
"Gnaark the barbarian and Lord Rayner are being tended to in the hospital."
"How...how did my innocent brother die?"
"He fought bravely among the ranks. When some of the men fled, he stayed at his post making sure no one got through. He's slain dozens, but by the time we arrived with reinforcements, he was already struck by the arrows you see here. By then, we knew we were too late...I'm sorry Richard."
Richard wiped the tears off from his face and took out his sword. He walked up to a cage filled with Tarranid civilians.
A tear dripped down from his face onto the ground.
"First, you took my friends...then you've abducted one of my brothers , and now you take my last brother..."
The civilians cowered in fear and huddled in the corner as much as they can. Since the invasion began, Richard's forces had captured 50, 000 civilians. 40, 000 thousand were killed in secret, while 9, 000 others were sent to slave labor. The rest consisted of the elderly, the disabled and the women and children. Richard tried to use them in exchange for more land, but it never worked. And now he was going to deal with his terrible "investment".
"That's enough..."
The starved civilians began to cry and beg for mercy, but Richard wasn't having it.
"Enough! Enough! ENOUGH!"
With one swing, he sliced open the doors and came charging into their prison ready to hack them to pieces. As Richard took his first swing, Garfield stepped in front of him and blocked his attack with his sword.
"IT'S NOT FOR US TO DECIDE THE FATE OF THESE PEOPLE! IT IS NOT JUST!"
"WHAT PEOPLE? THAT IS WHY WE FIGHT! THEY ARE NOT US!"
Richard's strength overcame Garfield's tired body and he pushed Garfield aside.
"GUARDS!"
Before Garfield could react, he was being dragged away by 3 guards.
"AVENGE YOUR FALLEN TAMORIANS! SPILL THE BLOOD OF HEATHENS! THERE IS NO SHAME ONLY RIGHTEOUSNESS!"
Several troops gathered around the wooded prison and tore it down. Angered, mindful of the many friends they've lost, the soldiers eagerly killed the defenseless civilians. The killed them in whatever sadistic way they can.
The babies would be tossed into the fire while they force their mothers. The fragile elders were pulled apart by multiple soldiers for their amusement. The disabled were subjected to brutal beatings until they bled out from the tortures. The women were raped before they too were sliced open by their male captors.
The companions look upon the scene with disgust, but were powerless to do so, they were individually separated and guarded by 30 guards each.
Some soldiers were crazy enough to drink the blood straight from the dismembered bodies of their victims, pretending that it is wine.
"THAT IS HOW TO CELEBRATE MY COMRADES! THAT'S THE WAY!"
The soldiers cheered their king. Richard looked at his "friends".
"WOULD YOU LIKE TO ENJOY IN THE FUN?"
Several soldiers dropped a women at their feet with torn cloths. They shivered under the sensual gaze of the soldiers.
The guards stepped away allowing them to "have their fun".
The companions pitied for them instead of lusted for them. The women were starving, their ribs could clearly be seen. They were frightened after being raped several times and witnessing the horrors the soldiers have done.
They refused.
The companions looked at each other and knew that they shared the same opinion. Kaldur stepped up.
"We kindly decline your offer, but I think it is only right to send them back home."
Richard rolled his eyes and looked at the others.
"Does he speak for all of you?"
Everyone nodded their heads. Garfield began taking his armor off. Richard smiled.
"I guess not. Garfield here knows how to take advantage of an opportunity."
Garfield stared back at Richard.
"Not exactly."
He took a deep breath. He tightened his eyes. In a blink of an eye, Garfield transformed into a large dirty-blond were-wolf. The women screamed in horror, while the soldiers laughed. The women had never seen a werewolf before.
Kaldur placed one on Garfield's back and guided her hands so that they were grabbing onto his fur.
Garfield growled at Kaldur.
Not too hard of course.
Everyone else had horses with a women behind them. They rode over the Harad-dur slopes and to the edge of their newly won outpost. The horses' hooves and Garfield's paws were stained with blood as the battlefield had not been cleared yet.
Roy whistled again which attracted several other horses. They placed the women on them and somehow managed to make them hold on to the handles. Each was given 3 days worth of food.
Their translator, Isaiah Crockett spoke to the women, who then felt a little more secure.
They then rode into the darkness as the full moon shined on them.
Then they disappeared.
The legend of the sun-whatever was one of those stories, where I wrote it so that I can get my writing juice flowing so that I can write Rise of Reaper.
It will not be continued.
This one however, I hope it'll be continued and I hope it'll be supported.
Thanks for reading.
Cheers.
