Empire Chronicles
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Part One
The Nizoma Conflict
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The wind howled with ever growing force, and trees swung their mighty branches,
deeply wrapped up in the motion of the breeze, as a square shaped fortress of some
kind lie back in the distance, on the heartlands of the empire, Taloe. Warriors, or
guards, heavily armored, stood abrupt upon the walls, overlooking the dark country
that was theirs for the moment.... A figure draped in red silk, and white over
dressings paced the wall, feverishly rambling....
"I have heard of a possible attack..." proclaimed the figure in red. "Upon who,
m'lord?" questioned a warrior, in a state of nervous feeling. "The Nizomians have
been growing quite jealous of our prosperity, and feeling it is their duty to stop
this, they may attack within the next few moons...." hesitantly declared the figure.
At the moment, the wind was nothing but a mere whistle, right up until a sharp
scream portrayed the air like thousands of pin needles. The glare of the entire
fleet among the wall shifted toward the eastern lookout, where another armored
figure toppled toward the ground, blood seeping down his armor, like a stream,
flowing forever, only to meet its match at a dam.
"Bows ready!?" shouted the figure, commanding the rest. The entire fleet
kneeled amongst the hard wall, aiming their bows east, almost as if searching
for invisible prey. "Where are they?!?" thought the figure, aimlessly scanning
the land. From the west, flung by an evil bow, flew a long, fire tipped
arrow, shooting over the fleet's heads, and so, the fleet turned toward
the opposite direction, but it had been too late. Now, about thirty thousand
arrows were pelting against the fleets armor, as shreaks of terror rang out
in the village below. "Hold steady! Do not let down your guard!" commanded
the figure, ducking upon a small security wall, which rested among the
larger, more efficient wall. More arrows shot from the west, and pierced
the fleet, as waves of blood splashed amongst them. On the west wall,
picks were being thrown over the crown, and dark, malevolent figures,
armed with five foot kitana blades were sliding down the rope, into the
village, itself.
One by one, the dark forces sliced at the villagers, and even the young
ones. The houses burnt in agony, as the red, cloaked, figure prayed to himself,
trying to ignore the battle, in which his fleet was being abolished.... The sounds
of a large man's footsteps smacked atop the wall that the figure was kneeling
down upon. A large, dark man, with long, thick black hair, and hundreds of
layers of chain mail armor wrapped tightly around his body. The large man
thrusted his way toward the safety wall, leaned down, and picked up the now
frozen in fear figure by his red, silk collar. The large man then pulled out
a giant butchering sword....
Eventually, after admiring his accomplishment of taking over the
Capital City of Taloe, he raised the sword, and quick, cleanly, and hastily
removed the figure's head manually. This now headless figure was none
other than the king of Taloe, himself. Pulling away the bloody sword, and
giving it a swift swipe of his tongue, to taste his greatest foe's blood, he
returned it to its sheath, and laughed at the burning city... a cold, hard,
cruel laugh of pure evil....
TO BE CONTINUED IN...
Part 2: A Reborn Taloe
------------------
Part One
The Nizoma Conflict
------------------
The wind howled with ever growing force, and trees swung their mighty branches,
deeply wrapped up in the motion of the breeze, as a square shaped fortress of some
kind lie back in the distance, on the heartlands of the empire, Taloe. Warriors, or
guards, heavily armored, stood abrupt upon the walls, overlooking the dark country
that was theirs for the moment.... A figure draped in red silk, and white over
dressings paced the wall, feverishly rambling....
"I have heard of a possible attack..." proclaimed the figure in red. "Upon who,
m'lord?" questioned a warrior, in a state of nervous feeling. "The Nizomians have
been growing quite jealous of our prosperity, and feeling it is their duty to stop
this, they may attack within the next few moons...." hesitantly declared the figure.
At the moment, the wind was nothing but a mere whistle, right up until a sharp
scream portrayed the air like thousands of pin needles. The glare of the entire
fleet among the wall shifted toward the eastern lookout, where another armored
figure toppled toward the ground, blood seeping down his armor, like a stream,
flowing forever, only to meet its match at a dam.
"Bows ready!?" shouted the figure, commanding the rest. The entire fleet
kneeled amongst the hard wall, aiming their bows east, almost as if searching
for invisible prey. "Where are they?!?" thought the figure, aimlessly scanning
the land. From the west, flung by an evil bow, flew a long, fire tipped
arrow, shooting over the fleet's heads, and so, the fleet turned toward
the opposite direction, but it had been too late. Now, about thirty thousand
arrows were pelting against the fleets armor, as shreaks of terror rang out
in the village below. "Hold steady! Do not let down your guard!" commanded
the figure, ducking upon a small security wall, which rested among the
larger, more efficient wall. More arrows shot from the west, and pierced
the fleet, as waves of blood splashed amongst them. On the west wall,
picks were being thrown over the crown, and dark, malevolent figures,
armed with five foot kitana blades were sliding down the rope, into the
village, itself.
One by one, the dark forces sliced at the villagers, and even the young
ones. The houses burnt in agony, as the red, cloaked, figure prayed to himself,
trying to ignore the battle, in which his fleet was being abolished.... The sounds
of a large man's footsteps smacked atop the wall that the figure was kneeling
down upon. A large, dark man, with long, thick black hair, and hundreds of
layers of chain mail armor wrapped tightly around his body. The large man
thrusted his way toward the safety wall, leaned down, and picked up the now
frozen in fear figure by his red, silk collar. The large man then pulled out
a giant butchering sword....
Eventually, after admiring his accomplishment of taking over the
Capital City of Taloe, he raised the sword, and quick, cleanly, and hastily
removed the figure's head manually. This now headless figure was none
other than the king of Taloe, himself. Pulling away the bloody sword, and
giving it a swift swipe of his tongue, to taste his greatest foe's blood, he
returned it to its sheath, and laughed at the burning city... a cold, hard,
cruel laugh of pure evil....
TO BE CONTINUED IN...
Part 2: A Reborn Taloe