So, whilst I may be unable to develop my world "Cerria" into a 3D MMO as it was planned as of the moment, I'd hate for it to go unused for so many years till I am able.
Ergo, I am writing a story based in it. Heck, this could wind up scrapped tomorrow, next week, next month, or it may actually be completed.
In any case, I was curious on other people's thoughts of my writing style/the story thus far. Constructive criticism or simply comments are welcome.
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Prelude
War
673 Third Era, Third Quarter
The monarchy of the Dujakide had been re-established for over thirty years, following the cataclysm. Whilst the once great empire of Dujakaokun had in fact been fractured into at least fifteen self-proclaimed kingdoms, causing chaos across the lands of the Ghul, Dujakide Toktaja Kaograda assembled his troops for the reestablishment of his homeland and peered for the hundredth time over his war-theatre map.
Three of these kingdoms, bordering Dujakaokun, had allied together in case of just the scenario the powerful Dujakide was planning. The largest was Kodakun, found to the southeast. Whilst not even half the size as Dujakaokun, it was accounted to be one of the largest kingdoms in the North.
The other two kingdoms were similar in size to each other, Kegrukas found on the peninsula to the southwest and Kojedare on the land-bridge to the north-east.
Again the conundrum sprung, teasing his tactical intellect on who to strike first. No matter whom he struck first, however, the other two kingdoms would march on the capital, Kaskikokun. If Toktaja were to spread his forces to attack all three at the same time, they would each be overwhelmed, leaving the capital again at the will of the enemy.
His only choices were to form an alliance with a third party kingdom, gain aid from either the wild, distateful Itsek to the north or the magical, peace-loving Neonni to the east, or to turn the bordering kingdoms on one another.
None of these objectives were easily attainable.
Ghul are reputably the most honourable species in the world when it comes to a given word, the deal is in effect unbreakable. The Neonni have never and likely will never get caught up in the politics of the Ghul unless their precious books are at stake. The Itsek are notoriously deceitful and self-serving, and every other Ghul kingdom were either at war or too weakened to partake in one.
Toktaja leaned back in his throne with a sigh that sounded more like a growl, and away from the large, sprawling map in front of him, painted on his Throne Room’s floor.
A semi-oval beam of light was ever so lazily drifting across the room, across Dujakaokun’s capital, Toktaja realised to his amusement, on that mid-summers afternoon.
Even though it was by nature the time of the sun, the lands had been locked in the eternal season of which they were experiencing, when the magical shield that protects them was erected. Outside of the elliptical shield, nothing lived. A barren, icy landscape was found stretching far beyond distances any living creature could take and any records of legends.
To the dismay of the Ghul, they had been found in winter’s grasp.
Archways of stone, their darkness shed away by the somewhat weak ambience of the day itself, danced down either side of the hall, curling slowly to meet a fifty paces from where the Dujakide sat, to meld smoothly onto the concave wall and ceiling. Set in the centre of the ceiling was the large semi-oval glass window that served as the room’s only natural light source.
Toktaja growled a sigh once more, the sound echoing loudly about him. It came back at him at the recess of the echo, as a knocking.
“Dujakide,” it called from beyond the portal.
Realising the approach of the prestigious Dujakogra, Toktaja hammered the large stone-ended pole next to his throne three times, indicating the great warrior should enter.
Dujakogra Gugrade Detokke marched in, as upright as a Ghul’s naturally curved spine allowed. Although the doors were closed without haste, their shutting caused a booming echo in the round, smooth-walled room.
Gugrade approached respectfully up till the tenth pace from his Dujakide’s throne and held out his fist in a salute.
“Garekun,” Toktaja demanded.
“The armies are ready, Dujakide. They await your demands.”
~*~*~*~
Whilst the peacetime after the cataclysm had been a welcome reprieve, the boiling blood of the Ghul, could not go without true war for as long as they had.
Grutok Trurega had never known war, being born after the troublesome times of the hundred-dujakide war during the Cataclysm, his very nature yet called for it.
So it is without surprise that he felt nothing less than true pride and excitement as he crouched as one of the thousands of the Ghul warband freezing in the snow, dressed in full uniform.
A single bulky shoulderpad dominated the left shoulder, scaled plating extending down to the elbow. Fishnets of fine steel wiring crisscrossed on both forearms, ending in a single plate tied around the back of the hand.
Similar fishnet wiring was found on the dog-like lower legs and feet, toeless and heelless plated boots with soles accommodating only the ball of the foot and their toes. A smooth, round, thick plate was attached to match the thick skull of the Ghul, their pointed bone structure extending out and behind the helm, with hinged plates flapping at their cheeks.
Many weapons were found strapped on the somewhat unorganised troop, ranging from bladed throwing discs, barbed throwing spears and spiked balls on chains that could puncture through the thickest of armour, to short swords, daggers and claws attached tightly to a Ghul’s hands.
The brigade of armed Ghul were assembled just outside of Kaskikokun’s walls, their formations unbroken by troublesome structures such as houses and other architecture inside the city.
A tall tower-like platform arose before them, within sight of all gathered, a pedestal upon which the Dujakide now climbed.
Toktaja stood for a moment upon that pedestal and his eyes roamed the ranks for a long time, seeming to lock gazes with each soldier.
“My warriors!” He eventually called, raising a salute. A roar of a reply responded, chanting ‘Dujakide!’ until Toktaja raised his hand, demanding silence.
“I look upon you now, and I recognise many, many faces. So many of you fought beside me all those years ago to reform the land of the true.” The proud and resolute Dujakide seemed to smirk a little, the corners of his snout twisting, although it could also have been a sneer, as far as a smile goes for a Ghul.
“And many more of you now have only seen war through the painted tales around a fire and enacted duels on a stage. However, I offer you now not only a honourable war, but a glorious war!
“While we also pay tribute to the fallen, and indeed, some of you shall inevitably join them in the halls of the ancestors, you will fall as a true Ghul should – with a blade in one hand, and the torn, bloody throat of his murderer in his other!”
Grutok let out a roar and pumped his fists into the air, only to find thousands of others also inspired by their leaders words.
Gugrade stepped forward from behind his Dujakide to his side and raised both his clawed fists, as would be recognised as a salute. However, the two raised hands meant ‘forward’. The congregation swarmed like ants, past, over and under each other in a fury to reach their respective groups.
Three swarming warbands of Ghul split, running like apes with songs upon their lips, heading in three directions. Northeast, southeast and southwest.
To the realms of their enemies.
~*~*~*~
Ghul tradition, upheld in the highest esteem by every Ghul there ever was, is and will be, dictates that if war is cast, a messenger is to be sent ahead by a day of the advancing army.
And so it was that the Dujakide Kiga Trukun of Kodakun, Kasdaik Tasakko of Kojedare and Kaotok Jekasdu of Kegrukas received messengers on the same day warning them of the advancing armies, ruled by Toktaja Kaograda of Dujakaokun, the direct descendent of their ancestor’s ruler.
Chapter 1
Lines Drawn
673 Third Era, Third Quarter
Their distrust in the kingdom of Dujakaokun had been well found, it seemed, as Kasdaik Tasakko squatted at the top of one of the many rolling hills of Kojedare, one plated fist planted on the ground, leaving a deep imprint in the snow.
A hundred thousand army and more in similar resting positions readied themselves, near and not far behind at all of the dark-skinned Dujakide, eager also for the blood fest that would ensue the clash of these two frontlines.
The messenger of war had indicated that this is where battle would be drawn, oddly in the favour of the defenders. Mayhap it was that this was some ploy for the enemy to gain prestige amongst the neutral, bordering kingdoms by offering favour of battle to the kasrekogra of Kojedare.
Kasdaik swiftly dismissed this notion as the rolling thunder that was the army of Kaskikokun rolled towards them on the snow-blurred horizon. If it were a ploy for recognition, why would they risk so much? Did they surely expect them to come to their rescue? And if such the case, should Kasdaik have split his forces into two, readying the other half as reinforcements, or more so as defenders against any other fools thinking of attempting to attack the mighty Kojedare?
The Dujakide swung his head back and forth, shaking off these doubts. He would need his mind sharp, his wits quick and his reflexes faster.
Oh how he revelled in the thoughts of red-stained snow this day.
~*~*~*~
Grutok Trurega was in the spread midst of the Kaskikokun army, charging still. They had rested the night before to revitalise their strength, for they had charged on relentlessly across the white landscape for near to three days whole.
As Grutok looked up the gently rising hill, he saw the thin band of dark forms clashed against the grey backdrop of the morning sky.
Like midnight black paint, as if the sky itself had split open, the forms oozed over the hilltop, spreading in width as much as it did in length. The forms grew larger and more colourful as the bloom of the sky died against their forms.
Roars, grunts, growls and scraping of folds of armour filled the air, followed shortly by the crunching of bodies, blood-curdling cracking of bones, clashing of metals and sparks of war.
As the frontlines were met, Ghul on both sides fell, some even flying into the air as the strongest threw each other aside, the distance between friendly ghuls folded like cloth, some leaping over others in a rage to reach the enemy.
Patiently, Grutok waited, releasing a cheer or a roar at the respective felling of an ally or enemy. He slapped his blades together keenly, their sound ringing in the crisp, cold air, unheard over the roar of battle.
A warmth reached his naked, clawed toes. He looked down to see red liquid falling downhill at an odd pace, considering the weak decline of the hill. It was an odd sight, the liquid toppling over itself, only to be soaked into the deep snow and repeat the process.
His feet had left inches of impressions in the deep snow, and the blood hungrily filled the hole like a river to an empty sea.
A sudden, sharp thud to the head with a chipping ‘shwing’ made him duck instinctively. Looking to his side, he saw the retreating image of a bladed disc stick into the side of his comrades neck a half-meter away. Grutok grunted in dismay and reached up to the newly-made dent in his plated helm. He began to draw his wet fingers down to see the newly oozing liquid, only to fall back at the last second as a spear was stabbed in his direction. His feet sloshed in the shin-high pools of blood, tripping him backwards. The enemy fell upon him with that three-pronged spear, the weapon diverted by raised swords.
Grutok pushed the Kojedare spear upwards and kicked out with reddened feet, striking the beast in the chest, then rolled onto his side and jumped up. The kasrekogra leapt back at him with heightened resolve, but he overstepped his balance and slipped in the blood. His spear went flying aside, still in the grasp of a single hand, grazing the forearm of a comrade. The Kojedare soldier’s ally flinched, a hole in his defence was opened. The Dujakaokun Ghul quickled resolved the duel, ending the soldiers life, mirrored by Grutok stabbing both his swords deeply into the chest of the fallen spearman.
Blood spurted upwards into his face from both blades, momentarily blinded and defenceless, Grutok lifted the blades so that one was above his head, the other above his spine, his arms in an S-shape. A blade rung true behind his back, slid and pushed back by his own. The arm above his head came down to wipe the blood from his eyes, and the battle continued.
He turned to face his new opponent, to find him impaled by an ally. In taking a moment to orientate himself to the battlefield, he found he could not tell the difference between friend and foe, for all of their uniforms had been soaked completely in blood. Most of the battle was being fought in personal duels, some cut short by an invading third party. Reinforcements worked their way down the hill, most slipping in the blood, likewise for those moving uphill.
An opening in the ranks led uphill, and Grutok took up the charge, roaring once more, head butting any in his way – friend or foe.
~*~*~*~
Dujakide Kasdaik Tasakko, in his red-painted golden dipped armour let out a mighty, taunting roar. Most, if not all, recognised the stamped insignia of royalty on his breastplate and were somewhat held back to fight him.
By gods, not by fear, but by momentary intelligence in the rage of a war-minded Ghul. Dujakide rose to their position not by inheritence, currency or vote, but by strength. In front of this hesitant kasrekogra stood the strongest and bravest Ghul in the entirety of Kojedare.
As allies came to the scene, recognising the situation, they spread out around the Dujakide, forming a circle composed of five.
Kasdaik sneered at their pathetic, if not sound, tactic. He unclipped his breastplate, leaving his chest naked, and his arms out wide, claws at the ready.
As he let out another taunting roar, the five attackers charged at once, spears and swords at the charge.
Kasdaik leapt into the air, slapping one spear aside whilst kicking another high. Three dual-wielding swordsmen awaited for his fall. One was blinded by a thrown silken cape from above, Kasdaik’s remaining claw slapping aside the remaining four swords in one backward slap.
The first deflected spear returned with a vengeance, only to have the shaft held and pulled from his grasp. The Dujakide flicked the butt of the weapon into the underside of the spearman’s snout, repelled a swordsman behind him with the shaft between his hands and kicked out at the one in front of him. With the falling momentum, he released the spear into a short-distance throw to the right to impale the second spearman in the chest.
Kasdaik fell backwards, inviting swords at his vulnerable stomach, then rolled aside and scratched his razor-sharp claws across the nearest Ghul’s face, pulling his arm back and then puncturing its eyes.
The remaining two swordsman charged at the prone leader in a flurry of blades, alike to the blades of a meat grinding machine.
Kasdaik rolled backwards over his head, stumbling a step as he returned to his feet, crossing his claws in front of him just in time as the whirling, synchronous blades came at him.
The Dujakide was forced many steps behind him, performing well to not only keep his claws high, low and centre to deflect attacks, but to keep from slipping in the red snow.
Many Ghul stepped back and closed in the wake of the battling Dujakide, not interfering with the combatants out of pure respect of their prowess.
Suddenly, the two swordsman split in either direction as the remaining spearman charged in between them, bearing two new-found spears.
These spears were designed for single-handed use, their solid metal shafts strapped to the forearms. This gave the tactical advance of a stabbing weapon, slashing weapon, a solid defence on the underarm and of course, the long shaft sticking out of the back of the elbow for a slap or trip.
The spearman dualist came at him heavily, mechanically stabbing at Kasdaik with blinding speed. In the corners of his eyes, the two swordsmen had returned, glimmering, amber blades at the ready.
The Dujakide went to backflip, but as his hands reached the ground, he released his feet sideways in the rise, kicking at the swordsmen, then swung his hips to one side so that he also kicked away the spearman. His legs came back in low after a complete circle, one arm supporting his momentum, the blades of his free claw slicing cleanly through the twisted foot of the left-sided swordsman. He fell to the floor in agony, his tendon slipping out sickeningly.
The remaining combatants returned with fire in their eyes. Kasdaik hopped backwards from his sitting position, his feet going under him, then leaping forward at the spearman, claws slapping the spears wide, his sharp teeth tearing a considerable piece from the neck. The two fell together, Kasdaik twisting the bleeding opponent above him.
Two swords sank into the back of the bloody mess at the last second, the blades slipping forward dangerously at the Dujakide’s neck, going no further due to their hilts. The body was lifted away by the jammed swords, and the most powerful kasrekogra in Kojedare returned to his feet, spitting out the meat.
The remaining swordsman shook at his blades, wedged in the skeleton of his dear, age-old friend.
Kasdaik barked at a bystander to throw his opponent a pair of swords, who caught them skilfully with a backwards twirl, his ally slumping to the floor, still twitching.
In that moment of clarity, any person of sound mind would of conceded defeat, to fight another day.
However, that was not the way of the Ghul.
Knowing his death imminent, the swordsman nodded in respect to Kasdaik, and then charged on, effortlessly being sidestepped and cleaved at the neck as he had requested.
“Datakiketa dasek,” Kasdaik respectfully whispered to his beheaded opponent, the long-established aphorism of a desired death.
With the traditional first duel of the Dujakide ended, the battle raged onwards with renewed charge, Kasdaik at the lead, mowing down his enemies.
~*~*~*~
The battle had been a close one. After many hours had passed, lives ended and blood shed, less than a hundred remained the thousands deployed.
The tactic of using the downward sliding blood against the descending Ghul defenders had worked well in their favour.
However, the presence of a Dujakide, or simply greater training of the soldiers, had led to the defeat and capture of the Kaskikokun kasrekogra.
Dujakide Kasdaik Tasakko had assembled his sixty-something survivors around himself and moreso, the remaining captives, whom Kasdaik had stalemated the battle to.
Whilst this was a formal way of allowing the remaining enemy Ghul to live, by not causing them to be officially bested and defeated in combat, in no way had the Ghul of Kojedare lost.
“You are now my captives,” the Dujakide began, wiping his claws on a rare piece of unbloodied cloth. “You have fought well, but I now release you as free Ghul. It is now to your decision if you wish to return to your previous master, or to serve under me.”
“The choice is yours, however, keep in mind that many riches and honours await the victorious, for those of Kojedare.”
A Kojerian Ghul came from the bloodied battlefield, carrying the golden breastplate of the Dujakide. Blood had been splattered on it, as water droplets would be dispersed on glass during a cold rainy day, as if the insignia-printed piece of metal armour had drank the blood of its enemies.
Kasdaik snorted at the bloodied piece and clipped it back on easily, hanging his claws at his hip with just as much ease.
A freed Ghul stepped forth, saluting the Dujakide, who turned his head to the side to appraise the relatively tall, heavily built being.
“My name is Gusak Kungu, and I swear my allegiance to you, Dujakide Kasdaik Tasakko.”
Kasdaik turned wholly towards Gusak and nodded, offering his hand. Gusak clasped this and was pulled forth lightly, ceremoniously being accepted into the Kojerian ranks.
“My name is Datokre Gajegra,” another said, stepped forth with a salute. “And I respectfully decline your generous offer.”
Kasdaik gave an understanding nod, and Datokre limped back towards Kaskikokun, after suffering a cut to the calf.
Another twenty gave their respectful oath or headed home, limping off to the horizon or giving thanks for offered assistance to their wounds by their enemy-turned allies.
Two Ghul remained. A heaving muscled beast of sheer power, and a smaller, whilst quite skilled, easily surpassed by the beast next to him.
“And what of you two?” Asked Kasdaik curiously after a moment had passed that neither stepped forth.
The muscled being offered a salute, then turned his back and headed toward the horizon, following the long chain of others afore him.
Kasdaik sneered and stepped forth to punish the insolent dog, but the smaller fellow intervened with a sidestep.
“Excuse my companion, Dujakide, for he is a mute.”
“A mute? How is it that he has been allowed to live by your Dujakide, being as disabled as he is.”
Grutok Trurega gurgled a primitive laugh to himself, “He passed the tests thereafter of his resolve, after the sustained injury.”
Kasdaik looked over the shoulder of Grutok to the back of the powerfully large ghul, still heading towards the darkened sky, then back to Grutok.
“And what of you? What is your decision?”
Grutok blanched for a moment, obviously still torn. Not only was Dujakaokun heading for a sure defeat in this war, the way back was long and dangerous. Covered in the blood as they were, dangerous predatory animals were sure to pursue.
On the other hand, he could return to Retakasga, capital of Kojedare, with this armoured envoy.
Grutok looked over his shoulder to his friends as they made their winding way over the hills in the distance back to Kaskikokun, and then turned to regard Kasdaik.
“My name is Grutok Trurega.” He paused momentarily.
“And I respectfully decline your generous offer.”
Kasdaik eyed the smaller Ghul for a moment, then nodded understandingly. Grutok offered a powerful gaze to his friends he would not see again before him, amongst the ranks of the kasrekogra, both parties understanding the painful seperation.
Grutok saluted the party, then sped off in the setting sun in chase of his hulking ally, Igki Kunki.
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Topic: A MyWorld Story: Dujakide (Read 958 times)