A wide grin began to emerge on Airlor’s concealed face as he looked down from the canopy at the dwarven cohort below. Not even the heavy rainfall could wipe the smirk from his face. In fact he was overjoyed at such a tactical advantage; for what elf ear could hear his movement in fair weather? Yet alone a dwarven ear in the buffeting rain? Cirysian shot a glance from under his hood towards the silent sentinel, waiting for a signal of command, as were Farrid, Elkhar and Ikr’an. Airlor’s right hand rose, four fingers were raised, his fist then clenched, followed by the raising of all five fingers. Ikr’an nodded thoughtfully; twenty dwarves would hardly be a challenge for him and his band. Airlor’s eyes then homed in on one dwarf in particular, observing the glowing hammer in his hands and the heavy armour which covered his girth; this one was his!
The sentinel’s hand rose once again, and was quickly brought down, signalling for the attack. Arrows fell from the trees like rain upon the water drenched dwarves below. All five ambusher’s found their mark, reloading and loosening more of their deadly shots into the warriors below. With half their number felled, the panicked dwarf warriors brought their shields up, forming a tight ring, still none the wiser to their attackers’ locations. After several more rounds of shooting only the dwarf who Airlor had spotted earlier remained, Airlor’s hand rose and all shooting ceased. The solitary dwarf looked on as a nimble, cloaked figure dropped down from a high branch with amazing skill and grace. With hatred and fear in his eye, the dwarf brought his hammer above his head, preparing to swing at the hooded elf, running toward his foe. Airlor pulled an enchanted arrow from his quiver, notched it, drew his bow and let his arrow loose with unnatural speed; the proud dwarven noble was flung back and pinned to an oak tree. Airlor picked up the glowing hammer which the dwarf had dropped mid-flight and walked towards the pathetic, babbling warrior, who was now completely at his mercy, Airlor was not know for his mercy and the hammer smashed against the dwarf’s face, crushing and splintering his skull. The sentinel pulled down his face scarf, gestured towards the hammer and shouted to his kin; ‘A fine gift for Ranguil, wouldn’t you say?’
**Note** This is just a short opening to a story which I hope to continue, all criticism and comments are welcome! Thanks!
My first try at Asrai story writing
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Beithir Seun
- The Philosopher
- Posts: 17411
- Joined: 18 Apr 2006, 18:03
- Armies I play: Wood Elves, Bretonnians | Sylvaneth, Soulblight Gravelords | Astra Militarum, Tau
- Location: Staffordshire, UK
i think its really good! a nice dramatic opening is always entertaining so im looking forward to hearing more of your story
post the rest when its done i'd love to read it!!
post the rest when its done i'd love to read it!!
Carrot and Stick ~ Beithir's Blog
Part deus
After days of travel into the depths of Eastern Loren, Airlor’s kin band finally broke through the cover of the deep woods and came upon the lake of Kelios; a place of great mystery and fey magic. Dense mists hovered above the surface of the dark waters, and many spirits gathered around this sacred place like dim lights, glowing in the shrouded air. Through the mists the kin band could barely discern the alabaster white tower of Ranguil’s hall.
“This fog gets thicker and deeper on our every return” exclaimed Ikr’an.
“The eastern side is under increasing attack from our foes of late, what would you have Lord Ranguil do?” Cirysion asked sternly.
“I think what our young brother would have us do is to strike back, instead of hiding away in our halls, is this not so Ikr’an?” Airlor interrupted.
“That is exactly what I would have us do. How many more trees must fall to the axe of the dwarf, the fire of greenskin or the corruption of the beast before Lord Ranguil fights back?”
“You forget your station boy, we are sentinels, we have sworn a sacred oath to Lord and forest. It is a fool’s dream to think of attacking to the dwarven halls or the orc pits. What power do you think we have outside our borders?” barked Cirysion.
“We all had dreams once Cirysion, let young Ikr’an enjoy his before they are ripped from him by the bitter experience of loss. Now is a time for feasting and dancing; we have sent a score of dwarves from this world and have claimed a powerful artefact for Lord Ranguil, let us be thankful for that” Airlor concluded.
Airlor knew his kin band well, he respected Cirysion’s age and wisdom; his counsel had proved invaluble on countless occasions in the past, but he also admired the youth and energy that Ikr’an displayed. Ikr’an had felt the call of the wild whilst still a boy, he had come to Ranguil’s hall, guided by the woodland spirits; who lit the way like a thousand torches. It was rare for Lord Ranguil to summon such a young warrior to train in his halls, but no one dare question his judgement, he had some purpose in mind for the youngling.
The kin band soon found the boats they had crossed over with just weeks before, this latest patrol had been a short one, however Airlor had judged it best to return to Ranguil with the hammer his band had claimed. The lead sentinel ordered Farrid and Elkhar to prepare the boats. In truth Airlor had concerns which he wished to share with Ranguil and the house council.
“This fog gets thicker and deeper on our every return” exclaimed Ikr’an.
“The eastern side is under increasing attack from our foes of late, what would you have Lord Ranguil do?” Cirysion asked sternly.
“I think what our young brother would have us do is to strike back, instead of hiding away in our halls, is this not so Ikr’an?” Airlor interrupted.
“That is exactly what I would have us do. How many more trees must fall to the axe of the dwarf, the fire of greenskin or the corruption of the beast before Lord Ranguil fights back?”
“You forget your station boy, we are sentinels, we have sworn a sacred oath to Lord and forest. It is a fool’s dream to think of attacking to the dwarven halls or the orc pits. What power do you think we have outside our borders?” barked Cirysion.
“We all had dreams once Cirysion, let young Ikr’an enjoy his before they are ripped from him by the bitter experience of loss. Now is a time for feasting and dancing; we have sent a score of dwarves from this world and have claimed a powerful artefact for Lord Ranguil, let us be thankful for that” Airlor concluded.
Airlor knew his kin band well, he respected Cirysion’s age and wisdom; his counsel had proved invaluble on countless occasions in the past, but he also admired the youth and energy that Ikr’an displayed. Ikr’an had felt the call of the wild whilst still a boy, he had come to Ranguil’s hall, guided by the woodland spirits; who lit the way like a thousand torches. It was rare for Lord Ranguil to summon such a young warrior to train in his halls, but no one dare question his judgement, he had some purpose in mind for the youngling.
The kin band soon found the boats they had crossed over with just weeks before, this latest patrol had been a short one, however Airlor had judged it best to return to Ranguil with the hammer his band had claimed. The lead sentinel ordered Farrid and Elkhar to prepare the boats. In truth Airlor had concerns which he wished to share with Ranguil and the house council.
This is quite good for your first time at writing. To be honest, it reminds me of Nagathi's style; not a good or bad thing in itself, just a different style of writing I suppose. It could be because in the second post, the Asrai characteristics of honour and duty to Athel Loren, pragmatism, and wisdom are emphasised over other characteristics. Or it could be the use of the elder-youngling relationship.
On a note of fluff, I don't think Asrai are supposed to able to count that much; a point that I happen to break a lot, but something to ponder nonetheless.Celdoric wrote:twenty dwarves would hardly be a challenge for him and his band.
In light of personal preference, I'd find it a bit less one-sided, and more of a tense situation if there was an exchange of heated words at this point; in which case, the dwarf would be quite defiant. I suppose I just don't view dwarves--especially such a senior-ranking one--to act in such a cowed manner.Celdoric wrote:Airlor picked up the glowing hammer which the dwarf had dropped mid-flight and walked towards the pathetic, babbling warrior, who was now completely at his mercy, Airlor was not know for his mercy and the hammer smashed against the dwarf’s face, crushing and splintering his skull.
Thanks for the comments, and part 3!
Thanks for the tips, I suppose your right about the dwarf being more defiant, it would most probably make it more interesting, I will get to work on editing this! In the mean time here is part 3, hope you enjoy!
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The narrow elven boats were brought to shores of the isle on which Randuil’s hall resided. Farrid and Elkhar secured the boats as Airlor, Cirysion and Ikr’an unloaded their equipment. Even though they had only been gone a matter of weeks, the great white pillared hall was still a sight to behold after the bleak weather the kin band had endured. A large silver tower protruded from the hall, which in itself was a great height; formed from several great columns which were intertwined with thick wall of vines. The kin band stepped through the great arch, which lead into the main hall, there was no sign of elf nor spirit.
“The council must be in session. Cirysion, follow me. Ikr’an, Farrid, Elkhar, wait here” commanded Airlor.
“Airlor, what would you have us do here?” inquired Ikr’an.
“You coped quite sufficiently when we waited in ambush for two weeks last spring, I am confident you will find something both constructive and intuitive to take up your time” answered Airlor with a smirk on his face.
Airlor and Cirysion had both been granted seats in the house council for their service and wisdom. Cirysion had been a long standing friend and ally of Lord Randuil and would often mentor initiates of the hall. Airlor however, was previously somewhat of a lone wolf, he had chosen the path of the silent warrior; his time in the wilderness had taught him to read the winds, and he would often commune with the spirits of the forest. His youth and outstanding abilities were what first drew Lord Randuil’s attention to him, he was eventually granted the rank of head sentinel, enabling Airlor to form his own kin band. The other members of Airlor’s band were drawn from a skilled stock of apprentices in the hall, each of whom was chosen with a purpose in mind, Airlor could see potential in all of them.
The doors of the inner sanctum were sealed by magic, and only those on the council knew the command with which to open them.
“El Tori Tu Enmi” whispered Cirysion, with which the doors slowly opened.
Many pairs of eyes were drawn to the two rangers who entered through the enchanted threshold.
“El Tori Ir Inum”
The mighty doors were once again sealed. The two sentinels knelt before the assembled council, as Airlor began to address them.
“Forgive our interuption at this time, venerable spirits and noble kinsmen”
“Head Sentinel Airlor and Councillor Cirysion, it is always an honour to have you grace my hall” expressed Lord Randuil “Tell me, what brings you back so soon?”
“Lord Randuil, we bring you a gift” Airlor nodded to his fellow sentinel, and Cirysion brought forth the hammer from the cloak it had been wrapped in. “This runic hammer was taken from a dwaren noble at the head of an expedition on the eastern borders near Pine Crags”
“And how many were these dwarves, Sentinel?” asked Elldrian, a council elder
“One score, which is what puzzled us somewhat” replied Cirysion
“Would it ‘puzzle’ you then to know that whilst you were playing around with twenty of their kind another one hundred of them attacked the woods north of your positions?” snapped Briachia the forest spirit
“What of Lyron’s Kin band? Did they not enagage the foe?” Cirysion hurriedly questioned
The council fell silent. The answer to Cirysion’s questions were etched on their melancholy faces.
“How? How is that possible?” demanded Airlor
“Their armour was thick. Our arrows bounced off them like the very rain itself. Not even the Isha’s tears could extinguish their conjured flames, we didn’t stand a chance” the words did not come easily to the shaken and pale elf who Cirysion instantly recognised to be Lyron’s son; Malkhon, who had been in his father’s kin band. “As you can see friends, we are dealing with more than dwarves here”
************************************************************
The narrow elven boats were brought to shores of the isle on which Randuil’s hall resided. Farrid and Elkhar secured the boats as Airlor, Cirysion and Ikr’an unloaded their equipment. Even though they had only been gone a matter of weeks, the great white pillared hall was still a sight to behold after the bleak weather the kin band had endured. A large silver tower protruded from the hall, which in itself was a great height; formed from several great columns which were intertwined with thick wall of vines. The kin band stepped through the great arch, which lead into the main hall, there was no sign of elf nor spirit.
“The council must be in session. Cirysion, follow me. Ikr’an, Farrid, Elkhar, wait here” commanded Airlor.
“Airlor, what would you have us do here?” inquired Ikr’an.
“You coped quite sufficiently when we waited in ambush for two weeks last spring, I am confident you will find something both constructive and intuitive to take up your time” answered Airlor with a smirk on his face.
Airlor and Cirysion had both been granted seats in the house council for their service and wisdom. Cirysion had been a long standing friend and ally of Lord Randuil and would often mentor initiates of the hall. Airlor however, was previously somewhat of a lone wolf, he had chosen the path of the silent warrior; his time in the wilderness had taught him to read the winds, and he would often commune with the spirits of the forest. His youth and outstanding abilities were what first drew Lord Randuil’s attention to him, he was eventually granted the rank of head sentinel, enabling Airlor to form his own kin band. The other members of Airlor’s band were drawn from a skilled stock of apprentices in the hall, each of whom was chosen with a purpose in mind, Airlor could see potential in all of them.
The doors of the inner sanctum were sealed by magic, and only those on the council knew the command with which to open them.
“El Tori Tu Enmi” whispered Cirysion, with which the doors slowly opened.
Many pairs of eyes were drawn to the two rangers who entered through the enchanted threshold.
“El Tori Ir Inum”
The mighty doors were once again sealed. The two sentinels knelt before the assembled council, as Airlor began to address them.
“Forgive our interuption at this time, venerable spirits and noble kinsmen”
“Head Sentinel Airlor and Councillor Cirysion, it is always an honour to have you grace my hall” expressed Lord Randuil “Tell me, what brings you back so soon?”
“Lord Randuil, we bring you a gift” Airlor nodded to his fellow sentinel, and Cirysion brought forth the hammer from the cloak it had been wrapped in. “This runic hammer was taken from a dwaren noble at the head of an expedition on the eastern borders near Pine Crags”
“And how many were these dwarves, Sentinel?” asked Elldrian, a council elder
“One score, which is what puzzled us somewhat” replied Cirysion
“Would it ‘puzzle’ you then to know that whilst you were playing around with twenty of their kind another one hundred of them attacked the woods north of your positions?” snapped Briachia the forest spirit
“What of Lyron’s Kin band? Did they not enagage the foe?” Cirysion hurriedly questioned
The council fell silent. The answer to Cirysion’s questions were etched on their melancholy faces.
“How? How is that possible?” demanded Airlor
“Their armour was thick. Our arrows bounced off them like the very rain itself. Not even the Isha’s tears could extinguish their conjured flames, we didn’t stand a chance” the words did not come easily to the shaken and pale elf who Cirysion instantly recognised to be Lyron’s son; Malkhon, who had been in his father’s kin band. “As you can see friends, we are dealing with more than dwarves here”
I am mystified as to what is going to happen next. That's a good sign.
However, I think a score is seventy.
Nice turn of events.Celdoric wrote:One score, which is what puzzled us somewhat” replied Cirysion
“Would it ‘puzzle’ you then to know that whilst you were playing around with twenty of their kind another one hundred of them attacked the woods north of your positions?” snapped Briachia the forest spirit
However, I think a score is seventy.The description of the hall, added to the fact that it is on an isle, reminds me greatly of High Elves. Perhaps of you were to incorporate it with more aspects of the forest, then the location would sound a bit more like Asrai architecture.Celdoric wrote:The narrow elven boats were brought to shores of the isle on which Randuil’s hall resided. Farrid and Elkhar secured the boats as Airlor, Cirysion and Ikr’an unloaded their equipment. Even though they had only been gone a matter of weeks, the great white pillared hall was still a sight to behold after the bleak weather the kin band had endured. A large silver tower protruded from the hall, which in itself was a great height; formed from several great columns which were intertwined with thick wall of vines. The kin band stepped through the great arch, which lead into the main hall, there was no sign of elf nor spirit.
Thanks!
A score is definately 20. 70 is described as 3 score and 10 (eg 60 + 10), perhaps that is what you were thinking? I was thinking along the lines of the High elven halls which were deserted at the time of the sundering, but the great vines add an asrai element to it. But I guess that's something to think about, making it more 'Woody'. Thanks alot for the comments! And I will hopefully resume writing soon!
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Beithir Seun
- The Philosopher
- Posts: 17411
- Joined: 18 Apr 2006, 18:03
- Armies I play: Wood Elves, Bretonnians | Sylvaneth, Soulblight Gravelords | Astra Militarum, Tau
- Location: Staffordshire, UK
@ Schmeag: Celdoric's right a score is 20
@ Celdoric: more great writing! i'm liking where this is going so hopefully you'll continue this soon!!
@ Celdoric: more great writing! i'm liking where this is going so hopefully you'll continue this soon!!
Carrot and Stick ~ Beithir's Blog
part 4
“Lord Randuil, we must act now, send some riders, let us take these foul dwarves by surprise” insisted Amilar; a kin band leader.
Malkhon quickly stood, passionately disputing the strategy.
“They had the cunning to divert Airlor’s kin band from their last main assault, should we not suppose they have the cunning to expect a counter attack? We must not underestimate this foe!”
Amilar rose in response.
“What choice do we have? The more time we leave the foe to fester, the stronger their foothold will become, we must act now! A two pronged attack should confuse and drive these foul creatures back to their pits nicely enough!”
After much heated debate between the two elves, Lord Randuil raised his hand. Silence immediately fell upon the room, as the elf lord addressed the council.
“Councillors, elders and kin leaders; we are in a precarious situation, that much is true, it is also true that we have little time to act. Therefore I have decided our forces will fall upon the foe with cavalry from opposing directions; Amilar, you will lead a contingent of riders to the south east of the enemy’s position. I will not send any other of you kin leaders on this errand, I cannot afford to lose your presence in the wilderness. Therefore I have also decided to give young sentinel Ikr’an command of the cavalry that will attack from the north east, I believe he is ready for this responsibility and he has shown his worth on many occasions”
“Lord Randuil, This is absurd! Do you think it wise to send the boy? Do you think him expendable!?” Cirysion barked aggressively, this was highly unlike Cirysion, it was clear that despite the constant coldness and overbearing attitude he showed towards Ikr’an that he cared for him.
“I have spoken Cirysion! When I called Ikr’an to my hall, I sensed that he would become a warrior of great destiny, one who might change the fortune of our kindred, I believe that his time has come, his time for great deeds. I ask that you trust my judgement old friend. Airlor, you will inform Ikr’an of his post and send him to my quarters. You and the rest of your kin band may take rest in my house for now. In return I would appreciate your presence on the council in the following weeks.”
Lord Randuil rose and lifted a goblet of wine that sat on the arm of his chair.
“And so tonight we feast, for tomorrow our kindred ride out”
Malkhon quickly stood, passionately disputing the strategy.
“They had the cunning to divert Airlor’s kin band from their last main assault, should we not suppose they have the cunning to expect a counter attack? We must not underestimate this foe!”
Amilar rose in response.
“What choice do we have? The more time we leave the foe to fester, the stronger their foothold will become, we must act now! A two pronged attack should confuse and drive these foul creatures back to their pits nicely enough!”
After much heated debate between the two elves, Lord Randuil raised his hand. Silence immediately fell upon the room, as the elf lord addressed the council.
“Councillors, elders and kin leaders; we are in a precarious situation, that much is true, it is also true that we have little time to act. Therefore I have decided our forces will fall upon the foe with cavalry from opposing directions; Amilar, you will lead a contingent of riders to the south east of the enemy’s position. I will not send any other of you kin leaders on this errand, I cannot afford to lose your presence in the wilderness. Therefore I have also decided to give young sentinel Ikr’an command of the cavalry that will attack from the north east, I believe he is ready for this responsibility and he has shown his worth on many occasions”
“Lord Randuil, This is absurd! Do you think it wise to send the boy? Do you think him expendable!?” Cirysion barked aggressively, this was highly unlike Cirysion, it was clear that despite the constant coldness and overbearing attitude he showed towards Ikr’an that he cared for him.
“I have spoken Cirysion! When I called Ikr’an to my hall, I sensed that he would become a warrior of great destiny, one who might change the fortune of our kindred, I believe that his time has come, his time for great deeds. I ask that you trust my judgement old friend. Airlor, you will inform Ikr’an of his post and send him to my quarters. You and the rest of your kin band may take rest in my house for now. In return I would appreciate your presence on the council in the following weeks.”
Lord Randuil rose and lifted a goblet of wine that sat on the arm of his chair.
“And so tonight we feast, for tomorrow our kindred ride out”
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Beithir Seun
- The Philosopher
- Posts: 17411
- Joined: 18 Apr 2006, 18:03
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another gripping part of your story! very interesting so far so keep it up!!
Carrot and Stick ~ Beithir's Blog
What exactly are they dealing with? I thought that it was going to be revealed in the next entry, but as it hasn't been, I'm just inquiring as to whether this will be revealed later.Celdoric wrote:“As you can see friends, we are dealing with more than dwarves here”
As much as it may be his destiny, I felt that it was somewhat sudden. In order to combat this, perhaps you could include some of his expertise in the earlier passages to make his military skill and leadership sound promising, but not yet brought to fruition.Celdoric wrote:“I have spoken Cirysion! When I called Ikr’an to my hall, I sensed that he would become a warrior of great destiny, one who might change the fortune of our kindred, I believe that his time has come, his time for great deeds.
Otherwise, the plot is gearing up steadily.
Part 5 for your pleasure
Ikr’an began his ascent of the white tower, it’s winding stairs made all the longer by his anxiety, Airlor had not told him of the exact purpose of this summoning, only that it was of great importance. The walls of the staircase were lit by small dwindling flames, and Ikr’an was reminded of his initiation ritual into the kin band. It was a midsummer’s night, deep within the woods, the darkness was lit only by small lights, much like those on the staircase wall, the hooded figures of his kin band encircled him, chanting in an ancient tongue; the dialect of the forest. Spirits of great beauty and fey quality appeared in slender ghostly forms, illuminated in eerie blue and green, they floated above the ground, weightlessly. The kin bands chant was joined by the songs of the forest host. He remembered how this made his hairs stand on end, so haunting were their melodies. Ikr’an was suddenly torn away from his day dream at the realisation he had made it to the door of Randuil’s door. Nervously, the young sentinel gave three hollow knocks on the large oaken door, it was slowly drawn open by a guard.
“Ahh, young Ikr’an, please come in”
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Airlor and Cirysion were seated at a large banquet table along with Farrid and Elkhar. Conversation did not come easily to the men who were clearly deep in thought; pondering on the purpose of Ikr’an’s appointment in leading the attack tomorrow. To Cirysion it seemed almost ironic; after all the boy had expressed his desire to strike out against the foe only hours before. Finally Elkhar stood and broke the grim silence.
“Lord Randuil is a wise man, let us trust in his decision. Worrying for young Ikr’an will change nothing, let us enjoy this meal and get some rest”
“Aye Elkhar, your right, let us feast” agreed Cirysion
The kin band ate and drank, but Airlor remained silent, he could not eat nor drink, for the ill feeling in his gut. Even as the kin band retired, Airlor could not sleep; his dreams haunted by the recurring vision of a warrior; clad in black armour, walking forth through fire, as if emerging from a hell realm. What little sleep he did get was brought to an end by the shrill sound of trumpets. Airlor looked on from the window of his quarters as Ikr’an proudly boarded a one of the lord’s boats and slowly faded into the mist, a tear formed in Airlor's eye as he turned from the window.
“Ahh, young Ikr’an, please come in”
*************************************************************
Airlor and Cirysion were seated at a large banquet table along with Farrid and Elkhar. Conversation did not come easily to the men who were clearly deep in thought; pondering on the purpose of Ikr’an’s appointment in leading the attack tomorrow. To Cirysion it seemed almost ironic; after all the boy had expressed his desire to strike out against the foe only hours before. Finally Elkhar stood and broke the grim silence.
“Lord Randuil is a wise man, let us trust in his decision. Worrying for young Ikr’an will change nothing, let us enjoy this meal and get some rest”
“Aye Elkhar, your right, let us feast” agreed Cirysion
The kin band ate and drank, but Airlor remained silent, he could not eat nor drink, for the ill feeling in his gut. Even as the kin band retired, Airlor could not sleep; his dreams haunted by the recurring vision of a warrior; clad in black armour, walking forth through fire, as if emerging from a hell realm. What little sleep he did get was brought to an end by the shrill sound of trumpets. Airlor looked on from the window of his quarters as Ikr’an proudly boarded a one of the lord’s boats and slowly faded into the mist, a tear formed in Airlor's eye as he turned from the window.
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Beithir Seun
- The Philosopher
- Posts: 17411
- Joined: 18 Apr 2006, 18:03
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gripping stuff yet again!!
so when do we find out what Airlor's dream means? And is the black clad warrior Ikr'an's nemesis or is it Ikr'an himself??
all very intriguing!!
so when do we find out what Airlor's dream means? And is the black clad warrior Ikr'an's nemesis or is it Ikr'an himself??
all very intriguing!!
Carrot and Stick ~ Beithir's Blog
The next part
Dawn split the night like a spear and Ikr’an was woken by one of his scouts.
“I bring news of the enemy sir”
“Very well, let us hear it”
“The enemy have been spotted to the south sir, not far from here”
“Just as planned. Very well, let us pack up camp and get moving”
Ikr’an gave a loud whistle, and from the skies descended a magnificent eagle with brilliant white feathers which perched on his arm. Ikr’an instructed the scout to write a message to Amilar, informing him that the riders from the north would be ready to attack by mid day and waited upon his trumpet to order the charge. This message was affixed to the eagle’s leg as Ikr’an raised his arm and let it fly. Kerstrios the eagle had been a mediator for Amilar and Ikr’an for the last three days and knew instinctively where he was to head. As Kerstios flew towards the morning sun a single white feather fell from the sky, if Airlor were here, he would have seen this as an ill portent.
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When Lord Randuil had asked Airlor and Cirysion to remain on the council for the weeks ahead, neither of the sentinels envisaged that they would be standing in his stead. Randuil had left word that he was to journey to the king’s glade to attend a meeting of the forest elders, his departure coincided with that of his men who were to attack the enemy, the halls seemed empty, many of those training under Lord Randuil had been drafted in to aid the assault. Something did not feel quite right to Airlor, his dreams of late had been haunted by omens of great death, and the dark figure in his dreams he saw riding, as if to lead some great host. During the morning council session, Erksria; a kin band leader, returned from service of the king and presented to the council a new relic for Randuil’s vault. The sword which Erksria presented had been given for his service, such was his loyalty and respect for Randuil that he felt it best under his lord’s protection.
After the council meeting had concluded, Airlor and Cirysion were entrusted with putting Erksria’s blade in the Lord’s vault. The two sentinels descended the tower staircase, for it was deep below the ground in a hidden cellar that the doors to the vault laid. The subterranean floors of the tower became increasingly dark with every step the elves took. After many more steps downwards, Airlor and Cirysion were presented with a large set of doors, much like those of the inner council sanctum.
“El Tori Esi Tor” Whispered Cirysion. The large stone doors refused to move for him
“Cirysion my old friend, do you think Lord Randuil foolish enough to not change his enchanted vault command from that of our last visit? Fortunately Lord Randuil gave me with the new vault command when we arrived; ‘Elson Etoris Myilwa Decinum’”
The ancient grey doors opened to Airlor’s words and the two sentinels entered. The room was completely round, it’s walls adorned with ancient relics of great power, many emitting an unnatural glow; swords, spears, shields and suits of armour were plenty and many of the weapons and armour Airlor had recoverd himself. A concerned look spread across Cirysion's face, an expression which Airlor had grown to know and fear, Cirysion was rarely concerned, and when he was, there was something worthy of his worry.
“Cirysion, what is it?” enquired Airlor
“Master Airlor, do you notice anything missing from these vaults? Was there not the long sword of Lord Randuil’s father; Lord Elmethor, next to the shield we recovered from the orc raid on the chasm glade? Was there not also a suit of obsidian armour taken from Kharvhir the betrayer of the Druchii on our last visit? Why would Lord Randuil have taken such powerful artefacts to a meeting in a safe haven?”
The feeling of despair Airlor felt only days before on Ikr’an’s departure had returned to him, he was hit with a sudden realisation, his haunted dreams were to be realised. A wave of urgency consumed Airlor as he quickly turned to his fellow sentinel.
“Cirysion, gather the arcane bodkins, and any other weapons you can conceal we must leave with all haste, and we must not be seen”
“I bring news of the enemy sir”
“Very well, let us hear it”
“The enemy have been spotted to the south sir, not far from here”
“Just as planned. Very well, let us pack up camp and get moving”
Ikr’an gave a loud whistle, and from the skies descended a magnificent eagle with brilliant white feathers which perched on his arm. Ikr’an instructed the scout to write a message to Amilar, informing him that the riders from the north would be ready to attack by mid day and waited upon his trumpet to order the charge. This message was affixed to the eagle’s leg as Ikr’an raised his arm and let it fly. Kerstrios the eagle had been a mediator for Amilar and Ikr’an for the last three days and knew instinctively where he was to head. As Kerstios flew towards the morning sun a single white feather fell from the sky, if Airlor were here, he would have seen this as an ill portent.
************************************************************
When Lord Randuil had asked Airlor and Cirysion to remain on the council for the weeks ahead, neither of the sentinels envisaged that they would be standing in his stead. Randuil had left word that he was to journey to the king’s glade to attend a meeting of the forest elders, his departure coincided with that of his men who were to attack the enemy, the halls seemed empty, many of those training under Lord Randuil had been drafted in to aid the assault. Something did not feel quite right to Airlor, his dreams of late had been haunted by omens of great death, and the dark figure in his dreams he saw riding, as if to lead some great host. During the morning council session, Erksria; a kin band leader, returned from service of the king and presented to the council a new relic for Randuil’s vault. The sword which Erksria presented had been given for his service, such was his loyalty and respect for Randuil that he felt it best under his lord’s protection.
After the council meeting had concluded, Airlor and Cirysion were entrusted with putting Erksria’s blade in the Lord’s vault. The two sentinels descended the tower staircase, for it was deep below the ground in a hidden cellar that the doors to the vault laid. The subterranean floors of the tower became increasingly dark with every step the elves took. After many more steps downwards, Airlor and Cirysion were presented with a large set of doors, much like those of the inner council sanctum.
“El Tori Esi Tor” Whispered Cirysion. The large stone doors refused to move for him
“Cirysion my old friend, do you think Lord Randuil foolish enough to not change his enchanted vault command from that of our last visit? Fortunately Lord Randuil gave me with the new vault command when we arrived; ‘Elson Etoris Myilwa Decinum’”
The ancient grey doors opened to Airlor’s words and the two sentinels entered. The room was completely round, it’s walls adorned with ancient relics of great power, many emitting an unnatural glow; swords, spears, shields and suits of armour were plenty and many of the weapons and armour Airlor had recoverd himself. A concerned look spread across Cirysion's face, an expression which Airlor had grown to know and fear, Cirysion was rarely concerned, and when he was, there was something worthy of his worry.
“Cirysion, what is it?” enquired Airlor
“Master Airlor, do you notice anything missing from these vaults? Was there not the long sword of Lord Randuil’s father; Lord Elmethor, next to the shield we recovered from the orc raid on the chasm glade? Was there not also a suit of obsidian armour taken from Kharvhir the betrayer of the Druchii on our last visit? Why would Lord Randuil have taken such powerful artefacts to a meeting in a safe haven?”
The feeling of despair Airlor felt only days before on Ikr’an’s departure had returned to him, he was hit with a sudden realisation, his haunted dreams were to be realised. A wave of urgency consumed Airlor as he quickly turned to his fellow sentinel.
“Cirysion, gather the arcane bodkins, and any other weapons you can conceal we must leave with all haste, and we must not be seen”
Shouldn't you include some of Ikr'an's fears after this? If he doesn't know that Airlor would say so, then maybe it should be excluded; after all, these are Ikr'an's thoughts.Celdoric wrote:As Kerstios flew towards the morning sun a single white feather fell from the sky, if Airlor were here, he would have seen this as an ill portent.
The foreboding of the missing weapons and armour is nice, though.
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Beithir Seun
- The Philosopher
- Posts: 17411
- Joined: 18 Apr 2006, 18:03
- Armies I play: Wood Elves, Bretonnians | Sylvaneth, Soulblight Gravelords | Astra Militarum, Tau
- Location: Staffordshire, UK
yes tis good. i think i can see some of the things tying together now so hopefully ill be proved right! keep up the good work!
Carrot and Stick ~ Beithir's Blog
Next part, *Warning* longer than the others
Cirysion had done as he was instructed and filled his quiver with arcane arrows; their points glowing a dim green, these arrows shared the same enchantments as the one which Airlor had let fly only a week or so before, resulting a fully armoured dwarven noble being pinned to a tree. Airlor followed his own instruction and did the same, also taking a slender sword attached to the wall, the blade was fashioned in a style reminiscent of the elves of Ulthuan, but Airlor did not know it’s origin. It was perhaps short sighted of Airlor to pick a sword which he knew very little about, over a more familiar weapon but the cloaked elf could sense it’s power. Airlor surveyed the room once more, but quickly came to the conclusion that none of the armour would suit a stealth mission, he would have to look to his wits for defence.
The great stone doors slowly ground behind them as Airlor and Cirysion crept out from the vault. Paying careful attention to mask the sound of their steps the two sentinels ascended the dark staircase until they reached the door which lead to the ground level of the tower. Glancing through a small gap in the door Airlor could make out the forms of Estiplos and Garintu; two young elves called to follow the way of the bow, they were in deep conversation. Airlor could not risk being seen for he did not much like the idea of explaining why he had taken a batch of enchanted arrows and a magical sword from Randuil’s vaults whilst attempting to leave the halls, he needed to cause a distraction. Surveying the corridor from behind the door, Airlor noted a low window directly ahead, behind Estiplos and Garintu. To the left of the corridor on a high wall, Airlor noticed a set of great horns hanging loosely above a closed door. Airlor thanked Kurnous that the two elves in his way were not members of his own kind band, whom he’d trained to be wary of distractions like the one that was about to come. Airlor slowly drew the door back leaving a slight gap, just wide enough for an arrow; this was an awkward shot. Airlor’s bow was drawn as he took aim at the centre of the stag horns. Just as Airlor let his arrow fly, Cirysion quickly pulled the door back. The arrow proceded to find it’s target and splintered the centre of the set of trophy, the newly separated horns fell the ground with an almighty crash. Estiplos and Garintu jolted and turned without hesitation, runinng towards the horns, the two sentinels used this opportunity to sprint like orion himself across the hallway, leaping out of the window with nymph like grace, instantly crouching against the outside wall, surveying their new surroundings.
“Cirysion old friend, we may be in need of a boat”
*************************************************************
The Midday sun was at it’s height, but Ikr’an’s sight of it was blocked by a thick grey barrier, the young elf and his riders were now completely surrounded by choking smoke and ash. The onset of this smog had been sudden; it had taken Ikr’an by surprise, never the less though, he ordered his riders onward towards their goal, no fire of the enemy would keep him from the glory which awaited him. Ikr’an’s ears suddenly picked up a sound, not a mile away. He commanded his riders to halt as he listened once again, it was unmistakable; the sound of Amilar’s horn to the south. Ikr’an drew his sword, his warriors following suit. The young captain then shouted out to his men.
“We ride into battle, let us drive these vile enemies back to the hell realm from which they crawled”
Following the sound of Amilar’s horn, and now the sounds of battle Ikr’an surged forth, waiting to catch even a glimpse of the enemy through the thickening smog. At that moment the bellows of the horn fell dead, as did the sound of elven war cries before him, Ikr’an’s heart sank but he continued to lead his riders on, fearing the worst. Suddenly the young warrior ordered his men to halt as something entered his vision, a lifeless body laid out on the ground. Ikr’an slowly approached the body, until he could make out the face of the warrior, he recognised the fallen elf; it was his fellow captain, Amilar. Ikr’an jumped down from his steed, against his better judgement, filled with great sadness. His riders followed, surveying the bodies of more of their fallen kin scattered around, hideously dismembered and decapitated. As Ikr’an knelt down to take a closer look at the fallen Kin leader he caught a glimpse of a tall black figure emerge from the smog before him, without time to even think, Ikr’an took a swift knee to his chin. The force of the kick sent Ikr’an reeling, as he fell to the ground. Before he had time to react, the young elf felt an armoured boot against his neck, pinning him the ground. Ikr’an looked up at the black armoured warrior, thoughts raced through his mind like a hundred arrows; ‘how had the foe known of their attack?’, ‘how did they prepare so quickly?’ The answers to his questions were answered, as a familiar voice came from under his assailant’s black helm.
“Young Ikr’an, I really did expect more from you”
The great stone doors slowly ground behind them as Airlor and Cirysion crept out from the vault. Paying careful attention to mask the sound of their steps the two sentinels ascended the dark staircase until they reached the door which lead to the ground level of the tower. Glancing through a small gap in the door Airlor could make out the forms of Estiplos and Garintu; two young elves called to follow the way of the bow, they were in deep conversation. Airlor could not risk being seen for he did not much like the idea of explaining why he had taken a batch of enchanted arrows and a magical sword from Randuil’s vaults whilst attempting to leave the halls, he needed to cause a distraction. Surveying the corridor from behind the door, Airlor noted a low window directly ahead, behind Estiplos and Garintu. To the left of the corridor on a high wall, Airlor noticed a set of great horns hanging loosely above a closed door. Airlor thanked Kurnous that the two elves in his way were not members of his own kind band, whom he’d trained to be wary of distractions like the one that was about to come. Airlor slowly drew the door back leaving a slight gap, just wide enough for an arrow; this was an awkward shot. Airlor’s bow was drawn as he took aim at the centre of the stag horns. Just as Airlor let his arrow fly, Cirysion quickly pulled the door back. The arrow proceded to find it’s target and splintered the centre of the set of trophy, the newly separated horns fell the ground with an almighty crash. Estiplos and Garintu jolted and turned without hesitation, runinng towards the horns, the two sentinels used this opportunity to sprint like orion himself across the hallway, leaping out of the window with nymph like grace, instantly crouching against the outside wall, surveying their new surroundings.
“Cirysion old friend, we may be in need of a boat”
*************************************************************
The Midday sun was at it’s height, but Ikr’an’s sight of it was blocked by a thick grey barrier, the young elf and his riders were now completely surrounded by choking smoke and ash. The onset of this smog had been sudden; it had taken Ikr’an by surprise, never the less though, he ordered his riders onward towards their goal, no fire of the enemy would keep him from the glory which awaited him. Ikr’an’s ears suddenly picked up a sound, not a mile away. He commanded his riders to halt as he listened once again, it was unmistakable; the sound of Amilar’s horn to the south. Ikr’an drew his sword, his warriors following suit. The young captain then shouted out to his men.
“We ride into battle, let us drive these vile enemies back to the hell realm from which they crawled”
Following the sound of Amilar’s horn, and now the sounds of battle Ikr’an surged forth, waiting to catch even a glimpse of the enemy through the thickening smog. At that moment the bellows of the horn fell dead, as did the sound of elven war cries before him, Ikr’an’s heart sank but he continued to lead his riders on, fearing the worst. Suddenly the young warrior ordered his men to halt as something entered his vision, a lifeless body laid out on the ground. Ikr’an slowly approached the body, until he could make out the face of the warrior, he recognised the fallen elf; it was his fellow captain, Amilar. Ikr’an jumped down from his steed, against his better judgement, filled with great sadness. His riders followed, surveying the bodies of more of their fallen kin scattered around, hideously dismembered and decapitated. As Ikr’an knelt down to take a closer look at the fallen Kin leader he caught a glimpse of a tall black figure emerge from the smog before him, without time to even think, Ikr’an took a swift knee to his chin. The force of the kick sent Ikr’an reeling, as he fell to the ground. Before he had time to react, the young elf felt an armoured boot against his neck, pinning him the ground. Ikr’an looked up at the black armoured warrior, thoughts raced through his mind like a hundred arrows; ‘how had the foe known of their attack?’, ‘how did they prepare so quickly?’ The answers to his questions were answered, as a familiar voice came from under his assailant’s black helm.
“Young Ikr’an, I really did expect more from you”
Last edited by Celdoric on 22 Nov 2006, 02:07, edited 1 time in total.
Why are they trying to take as many weapons as they can?Celdoric wrote:“Cirysion, gather the arcane bodkins, and any other weapons you can conceal we must leave with all haste, and we must not be seen”
As urgent as their mission is, I think that the sort of "distraction" that occurs is a bit excessive. After all, aren't Airlor and Cirysion respected members of the community?Celdoric wrote:Airlor could not risk being seen for he did not much like the idea of explaining why he had taken a batch of enchanted arrows and a magical sword from Randuil’s vaults whilst attempting to leave the halls, he needed to cause a distraction.
I like the despair that is included later though.
"Why are they trying to take as many weapons as they can?"
Well I thought it seemed a sensible thing to be well armed with magical weapons when you know that you are facing an enemy who himself has taken Some very powerful magical items himself from the vaults.
"As urgent as their mission is, I think that the sort of "distraction" that occurs is a bit excessive. After all, aren't Airlor and Cirysion respected members of the community?"
Yes they are, and in a way that is part of the reason they do not want be seen, Airlor is acting upon a combination of his dreams, and the clues of the empty vault as well as the "coincidental" dissapearence of Randuil. If he voiced his suspicions to the council they would likely think he was a traitor or insane, and if he didnt tell them the true reason, how else would he explain the measures he is taking? There are subtle hints throughout the previous parts of the story which I'm trying to string together now, but perhaps not clearly enough?
Thanks for the comments, It's always nice to hear from you! also, when can we expect the next part of Scout?
Well I thought it seemed a sensible thing to be well armed with magical weapons when you know that you are facing an enemy who himself has taken Some very powerful magical items himself from the vaults.
"As urgent as their mission is, I think that the sort of "distraction" that occurs is a bit excessive. After all, aren't Airlor and Cirysion respected members of the community?"
Yes they are, and in a way that is part of the reason they do not want be seen, Airlor is acting upon a combination of his dreams, and the clues of the empty vault as well as the "coincidental" dissapearence of Randuil. If he voiced his suspicions to the council they would likely think he was a traitor or insane, and if he didnt tell them the true reason, how else would he explain the measures he is taking? There are subtle hints throughout the previous parts of the story which I'm trying to string together now, but perhaps not clearly enough?
Thanks for the comments, It's always nice to hear from you! also, when can we expect the next part of Scout?
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Beithir Seun
- The Philosopher
- Posts: 17411
- Joined: 18 Apr 2006, 18:03
- Armies I play: Wood Elves, Bretonnians | Sylvaneth, Soulblight Gravelords | Astra Militarum, Tau
- Location: Staffordshire, UK
aha!! i was right! well from my point of view you're stringing everything together perfectly and it was a nice twist to the story with Randuil turning 'traitor'
its all nicley set up for a climactic finish! can't wait to hear more
its all nicley set up for a climactic finish! can't wait to hear more
Carrot and Stick ~ Beithir's Blog
Re: My first try at Asrai story writing
You know what...I never got round to finishing this did I? Well I'm back after a break of maybe a year or so, madness! Yeh so maybe I'll get round to finishing it off in the next few weeks or so! I hope my writing style stays consistant, but who knows, could be better 