Disclaimer: I don't own MediEvil, wish I did, though. I really don't know if I'll ever finish this story as this one is a novelization (of which this is my first attempt, so please be kind in your reviews).
MediEvil: The Hero that almost wasn't
Chapter one: The 'History' of Gallomere
"... So... that's what happened?" King Peregrin asked the messenger. Looking to the other side of the war room, lying on a stretcher was a armored soldier felled by an arrow sticking out of the helmet.
"Yes, your majesty."
The old king was beside himself as he recognized the warrior. "Daniel Fortesque. All those stories you've told... for this?" Only two words fitted this revelation: maximum embarassment.
"The soldiers say he was struck by the first arrow through his left eye." A young archer answered, at first glance he was a gangly minstrel but in reality he was Daniel's friend and second-in-command, Canny Tim . "We managed to destroy Zarok's demon army. But what now, my king? Fortesque, bungler as he is, was loved by the people."
"And I can't imagine them taking the news so easily." Perergin stroke his white beard for a bit, then summoned for his recorders. "I have made my decision. Let this henceforth be known to all: Daniel Fortesque, our greatest soldier charged headlong into the battle, felling demons in his stride, yet even his deathly wounds caught up to him, holding on until he destroyed the trecherous sorcerer Zarok, and fell.
Everyone in the room was silent as parchment quills scratched feverishly.
"On this day, a great crypt shall be erected at the cemetary wherein Sir Daniel will rest for all time, may his noble spirit rest in peace."
And so it was done, within the summer season, masons had put the finishing touches on the tomb, funeral rites were held, and the Hero of Gallowmere was buried with honors. The towns people, though heavy-hearted, could now be at ease, knowing thier champion knight would be hailed in the next life...the truth, however would be lost to history in secret accordance to the king's wishes.
Time marched on, a centuy had passed. Yet it stood still on a mountain far from Gallowmere. A great castle towering over the sea of clouds. No one lived here except for him... Deep in his laboratory, he leafed through the pages of an ancient spell book with bony fingers. His frame was so thin that he could easily be mistaken for a scarecrow, but this one was very much alive. Wearing only a red robe and a slighly horned headress, the sorcerer Zarok gazed at the spells and incantations with bulbous dark eyes. For 100 years he languished in his keep, cursing all of Gallowmere for his exile.
Where is that...Aha.. The shriveled man mused silently as he gazed at two words written in bold crimson letters: "The EverNight." Now then... Zarok turned to the next page and found another spell he had be researching, "The Spirits." After scratching his nose in contemplation. Zarok felt a thin smile spread on his taut face. Then he reached for his conduit of magic; a great trident fashioned with a ruby truncheon and left the great stone keep...
The moon shined brightly that night over Gallowmere, the people were snug in thier beds after the day's toil, but littte did they know of the horror that would soon emerge. Zarok was now standing at the cliffs overlooking the whole country. He grinned wolfishly to himself: now was the hour for his revenge.
With trident in hand, Zarok created two crimson spheres and sent them skywards, then at pinnacle of thier ascension, he focus his magiks around himself exploded the spheres, creating a sonic boom that echoed across the horizon...phase one was now in motion.
Gallows Town was dead quiet as Zarok graced its cobblestone streets. Everyone was locked in thier homes as expected. The skin-and-boned sorcerer mused over how many times he cursed the citizens' simple way of life, as he neared the town fountain, he called upon the dark powers once again. spindly bolts of arcane energy whisped through the town, seeking out something.
A family was asleep in thier beds as the magical anomoly slithered into thier home, then just as quickly it stuck; screams of alrarm rang out not only here, but all the homes in the vicinity. Windows were thrown open, glass panes shattered, it was a surprise attack of the supernatural kind. When the dust settled, strange appiritons floated out of the house holds and into the streets. Zarok took a grim pleasure as he absorbed these spirits into his body. Now his magic was tempered. As a side bonus, the striken townsfolk emerged from their homes, bearing axes and fying pans, thier eyes hallow and mesmerized. How thoughtful, these fools will serve me as a living army.Zarok thought to himself.
Zarok's next stop was the cemetary, he scowled as he llooked at the gates, apparently they named the cemetary after that idiot Fortesque, but that deterred him only for a second. As he walked through the graves, Zarok noticed something pleasing. The dark aura given off by his magic was reacting with everything in the area, trees became gnarled and contorted, pumpkins sprouted evil faces, but worst of all, coffins began to pop from the ground like daisies. One such coffin swung open, a long dead corpse shambled out moaning a shrill cry; the dead has risen, and with it, a new dark age for Gallowmere had descended...
I know this is a bit short, but if you leave a review and bear with me, I may continue this fic. Thank you and good night.
