Page: 1 2 3 >>

Chapter 1

he attack came at the breaking of the dawn, the sky was turning from a pitch black shroud into a shimmering canopy of red and orange, the clouds were just hinting at the night's final death knell. The howling, screaming and ravaging hordes of demons broke upon the sheltered farmstead like a black rushing river. Claws and teeth savaging the inhabitants as they tried vainly to defend themselves - blood was let in such ferocity that neither children nor mothers were spared. It was a terrible cull; for they saw them as such vermin, to be butchered as they slept, with none to spare.

These creatures were not born of nature's soft hand, but of the darker powers and arts known to wizards - these mostly exiled spell casters had waited so long for their revenge it was a palpable taste in their mouths. Like the blood that their demon hordes had spilled uncontrollably earlier - but they did not care, they did not wish to lift a finger, for in the past; around thirty years ago to be exact they saw the death of their grand leader at the hands of the man known as Duke Hark Ferol. They had plotted, planned and waited for such a time that they could unleash their vengeance upon the Kingdom and those who held life dear.

But the destruction of the farmlands and the outlying villages only served to give those children of the Duke time to prepare their forces in Rivertown. As the wizards and their demonic allies had been delayed by several turns of night into day and day into night. The allies were not expecting to face such magical power or monsters as those on an open plain, so they trusted their skills to a much more daring plan - a battle in the very town itself. Of course they also had to worry about the Lord of Chaos, a terrible a destructive force that could tear through most armies like kindling being consumed by a raging bonfire - some said that it was a Phantom, but none really knew for sure.

The sky now was as dark as sackcloth and pinpricks of light shone through as the stars burned brightly in the heavens above. It was the longest day of the year and seemed to be the most ominous; fear began to burn in the hearts of those who waited in Rivertown...fear and apprehension. It began as a soft rumble and then a wicked clamour as the army of darkness arrived at the gate of the town, the posts shaking with the force of amassed wickedness, demons, wizards and the Chaos Lord all arrayed in eager anticipation of a vicious battle. But all was silent, as the demonic hordes sniffed the air for their prey...nothing stirred, cautiously they advanced. But caution is so rare in war and soon they began to feel as though no one remained to oppose them, so caution was replaced by frank arrogance and in they marched as though they had conquered it already.

They were not aware that high above them, on roof and gable sat the noble defenders - the rooftops giving them a scant but needed advantage over the army. A cry went up at the same time as the defenders drove pots of oil on fire from the high places above them, many were caught and set on fire and then came the rain of arrows, flying like angry wasps and hissing like snakes from the bows of dozens of archers - each arrow was tipped with a virulent poison. The battle began anew and the army of demons and mages responded with a wave of spells and fire bolts that drove the archers back into the safety of the shadows; man, demon and wizard fell in the first assault. But the actions of these brave souls were naught to the power of this army and they were forced to flee, to regroup.

But war does not happen over night, nor does it happen in just one moment's heart beat of blood and thunder, it's a living breathing entity that draws the very life and soul out of those who dare to practise the art. So it was that the mages dark army harried and hunted the brave souls that chose to stand against them, so it was that they were forced to respond with terror tactics against a much more superior foe. Over these next four months a deadly game of cat and mouse commenced as the wizards blasted homes and houses into nothing in search of their enemies, and the valiant defenders were forced to band into small packs to avoid the stalking demons that hunted them like game animals.

These packs learned quickly the value of knowing your enemies' weaknesses, demon and wizard alike, and they used this knowledge to even the odds. For every single victory they gained, the wizards armies were made to pay in blood and pain; as the allies slit their throats in the deep veil of night, or drove the shafts of arrows through their twisted and black hearts. The wizards began to be known as the Damned by the allies and the packs grew into bands that would skirmish through the ruins, as fast as they were removed from one area - they would simply return to another. The armies of darkness were losing their patience and slowly the Damned were being whittled down since they could not receive any further help or reinforcements. It was time to act, and so the Lord of Chaos in all his spectral glory stalked the battlefields and drove the allies before him, they could not kill this being directly, nor by stealth - it began to soon seem hopeless. Little by little and inch by tentative inch he directed the course of the battle as he saw fit, the allies were soon driven into his ambushes and they were in danger of being beaten...

The fourth month of the war saw a drastic turn of events and the allies were driven from Rivertown, beaten and bedraggled, fleeing heavily wounded and broken to the relative safety of another bastion of hope - The mothers and their children (those that remained) had fled much earlier and were surviving in the surrounding forests. While the allies turned towards the cold stone of the castle known as Stormfist, the fear in their hearts was that they were finished, they had lost - but they knew that as long as they stood; their families had time to escape into the safety of their allies lands...it was all they could do to protect them now. They knew as they arrayed in the courtyard of the castle that they had one hope to hold it, the gatehouse, if that fell then the armies of the wizards and the Chaos Lord would swarm in like flies around a corpse and it would all end there. They had enough supplies to withstand a long siege but morale was low; many muttered about dying and many waited for death to come claim them at last.

Those who did not suffer from apathy and fear were praying to the Seven Good Gods, with great fervour. They placed barrels of oil around the castle in strategic places; the Damned would win naught but the broken husk of a once proud fortress, when they had finished defiling it. Ochre skies once more heralded their arrival and once more they appeared like the conquerors they were, but at their lead was the mighty Lord of Chaos, he tore down the gatehouse like rotted wood and the demons and Damned followed in his wake, like lapdogs...all the while the Chaos being laughed a terrible and unsettling laugh, it drove shivers down the spines of those who heard it. It seemed like nothing could deter his advances or initially slow his dark fury...they were doomed, until at that moment as they moved to defend; closing ranks - he stopped as if frozen and snarled ferally. Whipping back around eyes blazing like hell fires, for there were the Dwarven people, their armies were chewing through his spawn as they bellowed battle cry after battle cry. In falling anger, their axes and hammers were dispatching foe after foe, demon and Damned alike.

The sky turned into a black cloud, an abyssal morass as the Chaos Lord became enraged, but for all his bile and anger he could not stop the Stone-hackers in their advances, now the tide of battle had turned in their favour the doomed allies flew together with the Dwarves; it was a bloody and victorious rout as Dwarf and man drove the bestial foe from the castle, those that were not cut down by the veteran soldiers of the Dwarves, those who could handle hell spawn in their sleep...were set to flight by the Chaos Lord to save them from the fate that should have befallen their foul selves. The allies defeated most of the Damned, the mages panicked and fled to the skies with the aid again of their Lord - those that could not be brought down by arrows were able to escape, perhaps to return once more? A great cheer was heard as the armies finally put the last of the demons to the sword, and they warmly greeted the Dwarves with much elation and pride...under the clearing skies it started to rain, washing the blood into rivers of pale crimson.

Page: 1 2 3 >>