Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Hanslanda]

I've been meaning to start writing on this for a long time, and I think it might help me to have it on the forum here, since I spend so much of my time here anyways. Without more ado or explanation, I begin with vague character outlines.

Luca Sartorius Victor
-Giant, leader of the Sartori Clan of Giants, a very prosperous, militarily minded clan that earned the honorific name Victor in past wars.
-Very politically motivated, mostly concerned with advancing his own power and his clan's power.

The Prince (Currently unnamed.)
-Prince of the Island State of Staalshtan, very young (Probably in the 14-17 range) but surprisingly cunning
-Motivated by his desire to avenge his father, to keep his kingdom, and to protect his people.

Richard the Wicked
-Mercenary living in the city of Redmont, violent, cold, distant, and intimidating.
-Motivated by money and power
-Evil man who does good by the Prince's side only for his own personal gain.

Arcanii
-Giant mages, with a strange telepathy amongst themselves.
-Capable of minor telekinetic powers, strong fear/morale effects, very rare teleportation, shielding effects, and some amount of divination with proper preparation.
-Only five of them accompany Luca's army, and this is considered an extravagant show of force. Only about 200 total Arcanii in the entire Empire.

Annamarthix
-Half Elf mage who accompanies the Prince. Half elves are extremely rare, most breedings between humans and already very rare elves fail, but the few that are born are extremely powerful, and Annamarthix is considered far more powerful than most half elves. Despite this, half elves are usually reviled and hated by humans, and unnerve elves deeply.
-Annamarthix is generally very cheery and calm despite the bigotry he often faces, and tries to be kind to all creatures. His outward calm is not reflected on the inside, for he is often hateful of himself and his breed.
-His power is great, but not without cost. The more powerful spells can cause Annamarthix to bleed from the nose, get vertigo, lose consciousness, or worse. Annamarthix tries to utilize other abilities than his power in most cases.

And what I have written so far:

Luca Sartorius Victor was walking with a purpose, his tremendous stride carrying him through the marble hallway at great speed. He was tall, even for a Giant, almost five times the height of a Lesser Man, as the Giants referred to their smaller cousins. His features were strong and regal, without blemish. His eyes were the cold gray of flint, and his hair was the silver of the moon on a clear night. He wore the traditional armor of an officer amongst his people, a thick cuirass molded to resemble a muscular torso, with delicate filigree of silver and bronze depicting great beasts, the predominant decoration being two dragon heads facing each other, atop the pectoral muscles of the armor. He had on calf high boots, reinforced with strips of iron to protect his vulnerable ankles, and a pair of bracers on his wrists. He wore a gladius of astounding craftsmanship at his left hip and a dagger on the opposite hip.

He came to a set of double doors that would dwarf even the mightiest of humans in their shadow, and he studied the carvings upon it thoughtfully. With one hand he grasped the round ring-shaped handle, and pulled one of the doors open. He entered his family crypt in somber and solemn silence, and walked past the tombs of his dead family members. Each one was an alcove with a vast sarcophagus inside it, and on the opposite wall from the alcove was another alcove, with a bust of the one entombed, and a litany of deeds.

Torches marked the walls every twenty paces, but only a few of them was lit, so the tomb was dark. In the distance, Luca saw a trio of bright lights, and quickened his pace, knowing he was near his destination. As he neared the lights, he saw a familiar figure kneeling before a bust of a particularly illustrious ancestor, Luca's great-grandfather, to be specific, the one who had earned the Victor honorific. Luca stood in the dim light cast by the torches, in his resplendent glories, a direct contrast to the figure before him, who was clad in a cheap cloak of shoddy make, and a tunic of equally poor manufacture. After a moment, the other giant took notice of Luca, and stood.

Luca's brother Darius Sartorius Victor sketched a holy symbol in the air before himself, and turned to his brother. He spoke, his voice resonant and deep, "Brother. I did not expect to see you until you went before the Senate."

Luca stepped closer to his brother, and proffered his hand, but was stung by Darius' gaze, and withdrew his hand reluctantly. "I came, once more, to ask you to bless my venture before the Senate."

Darius sighed deeply, "This again? You know I will oppose you today. There is nothing you can do to change that."

Luca sighed as well, and said, "I am truly sorry I could not persuade you to my cause. And you're wrong about one thing."

Darius had already turned back to the bust, so he half-turned back to Luca, his face questioning. "What might that be?"

"There is something I can do about it." Luca rammed his dagger upwards into Darius' stomach, up under his ribcage, piercing his diaphragm and collapsing his lungs. Darius gasped in surprise as Luca pulled him in a close embrace, his mouth right next to Darius' ear, "Brother... Our ancestors always did welcome you..." Darius gasped one last time, and fell limp against Luca. Luca dragged his brother down a few alcoves, to an already open sarcophagus. He gently placed his dead brother into the sarcophagus in the darkness, then lifted the massive slab that formed the lid, and slid it into place with delicacy and care.

This cruel deed done, Luca Victor retraced his steps, and slid the door to his family crypt shut with a somber thud...

[Xantalos]

*insane laughter*
MORE! MORE! AHAHAHAHAHA!
Ahem.
Good writing and all that. PTW.

[Hanslanda]

Short geopolitical description:

All the nations in this land are arranged roughly in a half circle, around the Great Black Bay, a huge ocean. Starting with the Empire of the Giants (As they call it, the Empire of the Greater Men) in the west, on the foothills and lower slopes of a series of small, old mountains, their capital city of Anguld'var sitting atop three large hills, then, moving north is a vast unnamed swamp, stretching across a great section of the continent until it meets the plains on one side of the Red River. The Kingdom and City of Redmont begin at the mouth of the Red River, with the city of Redmont and it's mighty castle, the Spires of the Sea. The Kingdom of Redmont follows the river north to the Elven Forests and covers the vast plains east of the river, all the way to the foothills of the of the Eastern Mountains, which start in the Cold Wastes of the North and head south and very slightly west, slowly becoming a large archipelago of small islands. The Mountains are home to a lot of monster races, like Orcs, Goblins, and Ogres, while the islands are swampy and hot, home to a variety of Lizardmen, Snakemen, and other reptilian humanoids.

South of the islands is the great Island Nation of Staalshtan, named after the mighty fortress Staalshtan, carved by the ancient and mostly absent Dwarven Empire from the dead volcano in the center of the continent it rules over. Once a mighty and proud fortress, it has fallen into the hands of humans after the Dwarven Empire withdrew deep underground, and is now the home city of the Kingdom of Staalshtan, currently ruled over by the cruel King (currently unnamed). There is a great amount of discontent in the shanties outside the old fortress, where most of the inhabitants of the 'capital city' reside. They are a diverse lot outside the fortress, including humans, minotaurs, displaced dwarves, a very rare elf or two, a huge amount of the fey and cat-eyed gnomes, and a fair mix of the 'barbarian' races such as Lizardmen and Goblins. While Giants are one of the only races to practice slavery as an industry, there are slaves for the rich and powerful in every nation, and Staalshtan treats it's people like slaves, contributing to the discontent. 

[Hanslanda]

Awful artistry ahead, and another beginning of the story in a little bit.

This is, roughly, a map of the lands we are concerned with.

[Xantalos]

Hans, you make me feel jealous for not writing stuff.

[Hanslanda]

Writing is easy. Writing a full story is a bit more difficult.


Deep in the shanty town outside the fortress of Staalshtan, a small gnome female woke up on her thin, filthy pad. She creaked open one eye to find the sun burning down into it from a gap in the walls of the shanty, and grumpily threw her blanket off. She was almost half the height of a man, and willowy, even for a gnome. Her hair was an uninspiring brown, and her skin, when not filthy as it always was, was a pleasing tan. Her eyes, like the eyes of all gnomes, were shaped almost like a diamond, and were brilliantly colored. Her pupil is reflective, and it is said that looking into the eyes of a gnome can change the hearts of most creatures, for they possess a powerful glamour when they wish it.

Crystal Stepwright creaked open the door to her shanty, to be greeted with a curious, but frustratingly common scene. A dwarf was crouched in the street, and three humans stood around him, dressed in the King's Livery. The massed crowds of many races that always swarmed the streets of Staalshtan flowed around the scene, not uncaring, but powerless to do anything. One of the soldiers was speaking to the dwarf in very broken Dwarven. "Appreshtan kren morfenx!" 'Stop your insolence!'

The dwarf rumbled something, and the guard struck him across the face. Crystal was sure the dwarf could easily snap all three men in half without effort, but the lower peoples, as non-humans were called here, behaved in a subdued manner around the cruel humans. Crystal had had enough of it. The man kicked the now-prone dwarf, rolling him onto his side, and the human drew his short sword.

Crystal dashed at the man, snatching a heavy rock out of the mud. About ten paces from the man, she threw the rock with all the might she possessed. It cracked into his skull, shattering the bone and killing him instantly. The other two humans turned, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping. Crystal drew herself to her full, but diminutive height, and said in her smooth and gentle voice, "I am done with you vultures and your evil."

The two guards glared, and another group of guards started to approach. The two men drew swords, and advanced on Crystal, but she stood her ground. As they came into range, one drew back his sword to behead her. The dwarf picked this time to roll to his feet smoothly and tackle the man into the mud with a crack. The man lay still, his back broken, and his fellow slashed at the dwarf in a panic. The dwarf caught his hand, and crushed his wrist without effort. The crowd had stopped in their tracks, a multitude of races represented. A great many gnomes, humans, and orcs, with a smattering of goblins, dwarves, the rare elf, and even a minotaur.

The second group of men advanced on the dwarf and Crystal, murder in their eyes, but they never made it. The tension in the city that had been building for years finally broke, manifesting in the most magnificent riot that Staalshtan had ever seen...

[Hanslanda]

Hmmm. Must. Continue. To. Write.


"My Prince. Wake up. We have grave news." The Prince woke with a start in his well-appointed bed of fine linens and fluffy pillows, to a hard and cold reality. He was perhaps seventeen summers, a man by the laws of the land, but his frame was willowy and lacking the robust build of an older man. He still had acne and the scarring from compulsive picking at the pustules, but he had mostly passed through that phase of life. He had lines on his face, faint ones, but they were there all the same, attesting to the fact that his life was truly anything but soft.

He slid his legs to the side, and off the edge of the bed, where he started lacing up calf-high jackboots. After that, he belted on a sword and dagger, and slid on a light leather arming tunic. His equerry waited patiently at the door, and when the Prince was outfitted, he said, "My Prince, the rebels have been joined by a force of... Assassins. They have struck at our King, and he is gravely wounded. You must attend him immediately."

The Prince's heart jumped into his throat at this. His father was a cruel, hard-hearted man, but he was still his father. "Very good. I must be armored first, and I will not go without guards." The equerry waved his hand, and a half dozen full-plate armored guards came down the hall at a brisk march. Behind them came a group of serfs. The Prince went to his arming rack, and the serfs began swiftly covering him in a very finely made suit of armor. It wasn't shining, for the finish was matte, just in case the Prince needed to evade combat, but it was obviously a masterpiece. The Prince finished this by putting on a helm crafted to give the impression of a fox, and he nodded at his equerry.

They strode down the halls of his home, to the room of his father. Inside, his father was lying on his bed, above the covers, with several doctors in attendance. Some of them waved their hands vaguely, 'casting spells' they would say, and others examined the King with strange instruments. The Prince took one look at this, and said, "Leave my father. Your ministrations will do nothing for him in the time I take to speak that cannot be done after."

The guards at his back enforced this command, herding the doctors out. The Prince leaned down next to his father, who was also armored, but his armor was rent with claw-like gashes. The King looked at his son lucidly, for once not in a black mood, as he too often was. "My son, I must be brief. I am dying, and the kingdom falls to you. We are in dire straits, and they are only going to get worse in the coming months." He coughed gently, and grimaced from the small movement. "We face these Rebels, and now, a new threat has come to take advantage of the upheaval. We face l-" A dart flickered past the Prince's face, by a whiskers breadth, and tinked gently into the King's cheek. It landed badly, gouging a shallow furrow, and sticking into the pillow. The King gasped as the powerful poison stopped his heart, and fell limp.

The Prince was already throwing himself back, onto the floor by the bed. His guards turned to face this unseen threat, a shadowy figure clinging like a spider in the corner of the room, poorly lit by the candlelight. It threw another dart, killing one guard, and then it coiled tightly, before launching itself into the advancing guards. It landed lightly on the chest and face of the first man, a pair of blades flashing like lightning, and it rolled off him, and up between the legs of the next man, it's blades flashing once more, hamstringing this man. The Prince whipped his sword free of it's scabbard, but he was prone on his back, with little room to maneuver. 

The assailant had other targets at the moment. It flickered around the guard's swings and strikes with ease, slashing back with vicious and precise strikes. Another guard fell, bleeding from his armpits, and yet another fell, his throat filling with blood. The assailant was facing only two guards now, and it slowed in it's frantic attacks, taking a moment to breathe.

It was shorter than an average man, but not by much. It's build was wiry, corded with slender muscles of deceptive power. Black scales covered it, head to toe, and it's slim muzzle contained a mouthful of sharp teeth, like those of a shark. It gripped a dagger in each hand, it's sharply clawed fingers long and fine, for delicate manipulation. It eschewed the protection of armor, instead relying on speed, it's scales, and a tightly fitted tunic of black silk to protect itself.

It hissed gently, stomp-faking the guards, who backed up a step, frightened by it's startling prowess. The Prince's equerry tackled into it, a small dagger leading. The lizardman twisted in his grasp, it's own daggers stabbing into the equerry repeatedly, even as he stabbed his blade deep into it's abdomen, gouging a great gash across it's belly, almost spilling it's guts. The lizardman rolled off the equerry, dropping one of it's daggers, and covering the wound with that hand. It flicked it's hand, and the remaining dagger crunched through the eyeslit of one guard's armored helmet, blinding him. It jumped onto the other guard, raking it's claws along his back, shredding the armor with frightening ease. The guard tackled the beast into the wall once, twice, a third time. On the third crushing blow, it fell limp with a sharp crack as it's spine gave. The guard dropped to the floor, still embracing the lizardman.

The Prince knelt by the guard's side, his hand reaching out tentatively. "No." The guard gasped. "You must go. Find the other King's Guards, and get out of the castle. Now. RUN BOY. RUN." He gasped again, and shook the beast off, and stood heavily, blood running freely. "Go, or we died for nothing." He stumbled into the hall, and the Prince followed, somewhat stunned. More lizardmen, these of a green hue, and much less imposing than their assassin friend, swarmed the hallway, and the guard roared at them, "THE KING IS DEAD. LONG. LIVE. THE. KING!" And dashed into them, his sheer size compared to them scattering the first half dozen.

The Prince shook out of his daze and ran the opposite direction, the heavy armor slowing his pace. He turned a corner to find more lizards butchering a group of serfs, and he gripped his sword tightly, noting that there was only three of the smaller green lizardmen. He bowled the first one over with a heavy body check, his blade already slashing across the belly of the next lizard in line. Their crude spears were tipped with obsidian of all things, not near strong enough to breach his fine armor. He slaughtered them in moments, and kept running.

He risked a glance back, and immediately wished he hadn't. A huge beast was behind him, almost half again as big as the biggest man the Prince had ever seen, with a head like a crocodile, and huge rending claws longer than the Prince's fingers on great paws the size of the Prince's head. This massive lizardbeast thundered along, and roared when it saw the Prince's glance.

The Prince ducked his head back and kept running, desperation granting him speed. He passed through a massive set of double doors, directly into the meal hall, which was a warzone. Somehow a small army of these lizardmen had infiltrated the castle, and had ambushed the guards en masse. The Prince ran through the swirling melee, not stopping to help, sure such a decision would only mean his own death as well as theirs.

He passed into the barracks, where a concerted defense was holding the lizardmen back. The Captain of the Royal Guard, a bear of a man with a halberd, spotted the Prince, and directed his guards to get him to safety. The Prince was suddenly surrounded by armored men, who died fighting to force the lizardmen back. The Prince reached the Captain, death all around them, and the Captain bellowed more orders at his men. The Prince said, "Where do we go? Can we escape?"

The Captain of the Royal Guard nodded, and grabbed the Prince bodily, half-dragging him to the fireplace. The Prince panicked, and kicked out, but the Captain pushed on a gargoyle's paw in the myriad decorations on the mantle, and the fire slid up and back into the wall, while a set of steps formed leading into inky blackness. The Captain pushed the Prince down the stairs gently but firmly, and followed him, bellowing one last order to his men... "Fight for all your worth, the Prince must live!"

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a grinding sound could be heard, and the light and sound from above was sealed off behind a slab of stone. Alone in the dark with the Captain, the Prince said, "We must regroup, and fight them off..."

An unseen head shook in the darkness, "We must regroup, yes, but we must regroup far from here. We cannot win a battle in two directions. Walk my Prince, and keep your hand on the wall..."

[Swiftling]

Delicious. PTW.
You have a very nice writing style...just the right amount of detail and action. Keep going!

[Hanslanda]

I unfortunately violated Chekov's Gun with the massive lizardman, he just kind of showed up for a moment and wasn't mentioned again. I might go back, edit that. I'll post another one tonight though.

[Hanslanda]

We return to Luca Victor in this one.



Luca Victor waited outside the Senate chambers quite patiently. He had a pair of ceremonial guards beside him, garbed in blood red cloaks, with spears and tower shields. The doors to the Senate were large and ornate, with gold leaf highlighting the most important scenes carved into the white marble of the doors. Ancient battles and the like were picked out for special attention.

A few moments longer, and Luca heard his name announced. He strode to the door, and his guards opened them, letting him stride through boldly, hands free at his sides, his head held high. A hundred giants sat on marble benches arranged in a semi-circular set of tiers, each wearing a long toga or tunic with purple trimming or a purple sash. One more giant stood by the door, with a large staff tipped by a great ball of silver, wearing a gold-colored robe. He pounded the butt of the staff on the floor three times, and announced once more, "Luca Sartorius Victor, First Brother of the Sartorii Clan, General of the VII Legion, has the floor for a proposal. Be silent."

Silence filled the room, all the giants eyeing Luca with varying levels of interest. Luca stood in the pregnant silence, letting it build for a few minutes as he swept his gaze across the giants, counting his assets and threats in the room. After some quick calculation, he was satisfied, and inclined his head in a tight nod, "You all know me. You all know what I am here to say. But I will say it as is proper." He took a deep breathe, and squared his stance, gripping his hands at the small of his back. "Our lands are great and prosperous, we stretch over an enviable tract of land. We have mighty armies guarding our borders, and plentiful slaves. But we face a problem. Recently, more and more sons of Clans of importance have been denied chances to acquire land. The lands to the north and north west are inhospitable, unwanted, and inhabited by verminous beasts."

He eyed them once more. "I have a solution to this problem. The Kingdom of Lesser Men, the one known as Staalshtan, on the Volcano Continent to the east, has become embroiled in great unrest. Their slaves have revolted, and trapped the oppressors in their castles. Seeing this, the Lizardmen of the archipelago of islands known as the Islands of Woe have seen a chance, and struck, landing a significant army, trying to grab what land they can. This three way war is a perfect opportunity for us. We would sail an army of three Legions to the continent, and take what we want from the victor of the war, as they will be weak and battered from the war."

Luca smiled sardonically, "Of course, owning both our peninsula and Staalshtan will mean we have the mouth of the Great Black Bay at our mercy. We would be in a perfect position to strike at any kingdom or place that fancied our sons." He bowed slightly, "This is all I wish to say as of now. Any questions?"

One giant rose, with a ratty cloak knotted at his neck, belying his rich toga. The announcer slammed the staff and said, "The Senate recognizes Senator Veteranarii Flavius Glaber, High Priest of the Augury."

The giant had a gaunt and weathered face, and piercing black eyes. He turned his baleful gaze on Victor, and said, "Where is your brother?"

Luca looked at the announcer, who decried the irrelevant question, but Luca waved him down, "No, I will answer." He looked back to the priest, and smiled sadly, "My brother was seen leaving my home last night at the darkest hour. The slave-man that saw him said he was speaking of the ancestors calling him to their will. I do not know where he is, and I have men searching for him. I am quite worried." There was a truth in the web of lies Luca was spinning. He DID have men searching, but only for show.

The priest eyed Luca obviously skeptic, but nodded and sat down. The announcer said, "Any further questions that are relevant? No? We call to a vote of the Senate. Master Victor, please wait outsi-"

"We have a question."

Silence fell at this. Everyone turned to look at the open door to the Senate, where five giants stood in a chevron, garbed in long flowing robes of silver and gold color, with ornate masks on their faces. They were motionless, and the announcer, somewhat startled, announced them after a moment of silence, "The Masters of Magic, the Arcanii Conclave, has... Representatives. The Senate recognizes them."

The Arcanii spoke, all five of them at once, all perfectly as one. Their voices were overlayed with far more than just their five voices, and they reverberated unnaturally. "We would like to ask the Luca a few questions. For one, where is his dagger?" The question sat, pregnantly, as everyone realized, including Luca himself, that his dagger-sheathe was empty.

Luca mentally cursed his foolishness, having left the dagger buried in his brother's gut in the tomb. Outwardly, he was calm and cold as he said, "I left it in my quarters, as a sort of symbol. To show that we are not defending, merely attacking." He drew his sword with a flourish at this, pointing to the east.

The Arcanii nodded as one, and spread out in a semi-circle, walking the room like a pack of wolves. "For another, what Legions do you plan on bringing?"

Luca answered slowly and carefully, "I will bring those Legions that are not needed for border defense, in addition to my own. I would recommend the Legions of General Maximus Batiartus and Praeventore Iohanne Meridius."

The Arcanii nodded again, and said, "What makes you worthy to lead?"

Luca grinned wolfishly, "I am the best General in the Empire, and everyone knows it. I am the second finest warrior in the Empire as well, after the redoubtable Phemos."

The Arcanii were frozen in place suddenly, surrounding Luca completely in a star. One of them gestured, and they all said, "We'd like some proof."

A Cyclops entered the room through the doors. The Cyclops was short by giant standards, but very stickily built. It wore a thick scale-mail tunic that fell to it's knees, and carried a spear as long as Luca was tall. Luca smiled, "You wish me to fight one of your guards? I will slaughter it."

The Arcanii were silent as four more Cyclopii filed into the room, surrounding Luca in another star. The Senate was stone-cold silent, thoroughly engaged in this scene. One giant defeated two or even three Cyclopii would not be a tremendously surprising event. Giants were naturally stronger than Cyclopii, and with a great reach advantage. But five on one was a bit extreme.

Luca gripped his sword tightly, and looked around himself at the Arcanii. "Tell them to come at me then." The Cyclopii started advancing slowly, spears readied. Luca snorted mildly, and walked at the one directly in front of him confidently. It jabbed with it's spear as he came in range, but he sliced the spear point off with a blunt, boring swing, and lunged into it's guard, blade leading. He stabbed it in the neck, gouging open a thick, gory wound on the side of it's neck as his sword sliced a third of it's neckflesh. He whirled to face the others as the Cyclops fell, dying silently.

The Cyclopii were not exactly intelligent in the human sense. They were cruelly cunning and capable of following even very complex orders, but they had no real mind of their own, slaved as they were to the will of the Arcanii. They rushed Luca as one, and he swirled around the first jab, locking his arm around the spear, and pulled with his whole body. The Cyclops kept hold of it's spear, as he'd hoped it would, and moved with the angle of the spear, stumbling into the next Cyclops in line. They both fell over in a heap, and Luca kept the spear. He parried the other pair of blows with ease, and flipped the spear about, his grip choked up far on the shaft, as close to the head as would let him balance it with one hand.

He jabbed with the spear at one of the standing Cyclops, and it took a couple steps back to avoid it. While it did so, he leaned into the next jab, and turned it to the side, letting the spear slip out until he had more reach. It gently tinked against the next Cyclops' armor, but he then put weight behind it, and it slid through the scale mail, scoring a not-so-superficial wound, and sticking in it's flesh. The first Cyclops jumped forwards, jabbing back, but Luca twisted to one side, and the blow skipped off his breastplate. He stepped forwards again, and rammed his sword up into the Cyclops' guts. He started to step back, but his sword was caught fast, and the other Cyclops broke off the spear in it's side, and ran at him.

Luca let go of the sword, and rolled back, giving himself space. The other two Cyclops had clambered to their feet by now, and he stood unarmed and outnumbered still. The charging Cyclops leveled it's spear at Luca, and lunged at him. Luca tried to dodge, but the spear caught him square in the center of his armor, lifting him up. The Cyclops carried him a few feet, and slammed him onto the suddenly vacated first tier of seats behind him. Luca gasped as the breathe whooshed out of him, and kicked hard into the Cyclops' knee, which gave with a sickly crack. The Cyclops stumbled back weakly, and fell on it's back.

The other two advanced carefully on Luca, as their wounded comrade crawled behind the cover they provided. Luca picked up the spear that had pinned him, and tested it's weight. After a moment, he decided on a course of action, and threw the spear like a javelin. It plunged through the helmeted head of one standing Cyclops, all the way out the back of it's skull. The other Cyclops flinched, and rushed him angrily. Luca dropped as it came forward, and it tried to reangle it's spear, but he was under it's line of attack, and he bulled up into it, lifting it into the air and slamming it onto it's back. He dropped on top of it, and pounded his large fist into it's face repeatedly. After a moment, it's skull gave, and brain matter stained Luca's hand.

He turned to finish the maimed Cyclops, but the Arcanii said, "Enough. We have seen enough. Luca has our blessing." The Senate murmured confusedly at the Arcanii's strange behavior, but raised no dissent. The Arcanii continued as if the Senate didn't exist. "That is why these five Arcanii will accompany him and his chosen allies, with a half Legion of Cyclopii, to support his campaign."

The announcer called the Senate to order several times after the uproar this statement caused, as Senators protested such 'a flagrant display of force' and 'jeopardizing a huge portion of the Arcanii Conclave', and when silence finally fell again, he called, almost hoarse from shouting, "The vote will be held now. Luca. You may go outside."

An hour later, Luca was led back in, and informed his proposal had passed, seventy-seven votes to twenty-eight...

[Hanslanda]

A king... A king...
Where... Where was he? He tried to remember, focused his considerable intellect on it, but could not find the answer. That strange voice returned...
A king... You will meet a king, and serve by his side... You will be the blade...
A king? He was not a man to be found at a king's side. This made no sense.
You will be the blade.
The blade?
The king will wield a blade of fire and stand behind a shield of steel. You will be the blade. You will be the blade.
Annamarthix woke with a start, shaking his head. He tried to think of what had happened in his dream, but as was always the case with the dreams of the voice, the details slipped from his mind faster than he could capture them for later study. All that remain was the memory of two words. A king.

Annamarthix looked around, and found himself in a strange place. He had not gone to sleep here, that much he was sure of. This was a depressingly common occurrence for him. It was dark, pitch black to a human's eyes. Annamarthix's half-elven eyes were a bit sharper, a bit better suited to the dark than those of a full man. They shined a bit, like a cat. He could make out the vague outlines of a long corridor, stretching into the distance. He heard the clanking of men in armor walking, and instinctively curled up in a ball.

Two men came into view. One was a huge hulking brute of a human, armored in thick full plate, carrying a massive halberd. The other was a slim, slender young man in beautiful plate armor of exquisite make. They were quiet and grim, with blood stains on their armor in places. Annamarthix stood, for no reason he could understand, and said, "A king."

The huge man pushed the slim man behind himself, and dropped into a combat stance, halberd forward. He growled, "Who goes there? Be you friend or foe?"

Annamarthix shook his head, trying to understand why in the world he'd spoken, and gave up after a moment. He said, "I am Annamarthix. I am no foe, this I know." He thought he heard a dry chuckle at that, but it did not seem to originate with the two humans. Strange.

The huge man eyed the darkness grimly. He could hardly make out the shape of the stranger, but he could tell he was bigger and better armed than the strange-voiced person before him. He sighed, and said, "I hope you tell the truth. I walk with the King of Staalshtan, and he is in dire need of protection."

Annamarthix smiled, though the humans could not see it. "I might be able to help with that. First, let's get some light. Shield your eyes, please." The humans complied, and were surprised when a faint light came into being haloing the stranger. Annamarthix kept concentrating on the spell while he spoke, an amazing feat to any that knew of magic, "I am something of a sorcerer, truth be told. I also have a question. Where are we?"

The smaller human slipped out from behind his guardian, and said, "We are in the escape tunnel leading out of the old Dwarven fortress Staalshtan. In the city of Staalshtan. On the island of Staalshtan. The dwarves were not very creative."

Annamarthix smiled slightly, "That statement is dreadfully in error, but I will forgive it. Let's find our way out, shall we?" And so, they walked. The corridor took a few twists and turns, and after less than an hour, they found themselves in a small gorge far from the fortress.

The Captain of the Guard looked around confused, and said, "Wait. That tunnel is nearly thirty miles long. There's no way we're already at the end of it."

Annamarthix shrugged. "The ways of the world are mysterious sometimes." An ironic chuckle followed this, but Annamarthix knew it was not his, nor the humans'. Where did that sound keep coming from? Turning the thought from his mind, he asked the humans, "So, where do we go now?"

The Captain said, "We march to the citadel of Eramasus. It is the nearest bastion of defense."

The Prince said, "No... If the Lizardmen were here already, what is to say they aren't at Eramasus too? Or, for that matter, Brookhaven, Gnormasht, or Castle Rimir? We have no idea of their logistics, positioning, or force strength at this time, and we are a measly band of three travelers. Even a small patrol would destroy us."

Annamarthix stood stiff for a moment, his eyes glazing over. After a short time, he relaxed, and a few tears streamed from his eyes, unbidden. He said, "Gnormasht is gone. Eramasus is under siege and will fall soon, Brookhaven is burning but fighting, and Castle Rimir has repulsed the enemies they face, and is counterattacking. We should go to the castle methinks."

The Captain of the Guard eyed Annamarthix distrustfully for a moment. "I don't trust the fey-eyed, Milord. And this one is a half-blood to boot. Unnatural and bad luck, half breeds like him are."

Annamarthix grimaced, but kept his silence. The Prince eyed Annamarthix for a long time, then sighed, "I trust him. We march to Castle Rimir. And hope that the others hold their ground."

Annamarthix smiled, ready to thank the Prince, but instead he hissed in fear, and waved both of the humans down to hide. They looked at him blankly, confused, when a group of almost thirty lizardmen came into view at the mouth of the gorge.

[Yoink]

Loved that battle scene, and this prince seems like he could be a fascinating character.
I'm not sure what I expected from this thread-- an idle foray into writing, someone trying to get some practice, some critique and such from the community, maybe?- but you're a great writer already, and this is an engrossing read so far.

Looking forwards to more!

[Hanslanda]

The Prince is one of the central characters. Annamarthix, the as-of-yet-unintroduced Richard the Wicked, Crystal Stepwright, and maybe a few more surprise characters all revolve around him and his purpose, and how they affect it.

Also, Luca Victor, Centurion Lucius, and Richard the Wicked are my favorite characters.

There are really two major plotlines:

Luca Victor, his dealings with his allies, and his invasion of Staalshtan.

The Prince's quest to regain the throne of Staalshtan.


Luca Victor stood outside his command tent, overlooking a vast army preparing itself. Thirty thousand Giants and five thousand Cyclopii busied themselves in the plain Luca's tent overlooked, rolling up tents, checking food stores, repairing weapons and armor, sparring, and discussing logistics. The vast fleet anchored on the shore to the east of the camp was no less busy, preparing themselves to take on innumerable passengers. Luca smiled, and turned to the two other Legion Commanders.

General Maximus Batiartus was an old giant, scarred and weathered by a lifetime of battles, both physical and political. He was taller than even Luca, who was tall indeed for a giant, and he wore heavy armor like that of a Triarii. His build was thick and powerful, and he kept one hand on his long spear at all times.

Praeventore Iohanne Meridius was nothing like Batiartus. He was small for a giant, and slender. His lithe build and pinched, rodent-like features contributed to the nickname most knew him by. The Weasel. He wore only a light leather tunic over his clothing, and had two gladius blades strapped at his hips. Luca knew from experience that Iohanne was much stronger than might be thought from looking at him, and he was fast as lightning.

Batiartus spoke first, "My Legion has almost completed preparations, and all the fortification materials are aboard the ships. My sappers and engineers are as prepared as they can ever be, and the heavy infantry is only a few hours out from boarding." Luca nodded graciously at him, and turned to Iohanne.

The smaller giant smiled bloodlessly and said, "My scouts are about to disembark. They should arrive about a week before we do, and will have some good information for us by the time we get there. The archers and light infantry you requested I bring are almost prepared as well." Iohanne shrugged, "All said, we're ahead of schedule. Except for those idiot Cyclopii and their wyrdling masters."

"The Cyclopii are not idiots, and they are ready." The five Arcanii had come around the corner of the tent at that moment, almost on cue. Each one was strikingly similar, yet also individualistic. Their robes were identical, but their masks were all wildly different. The one in the center of their little group had a mask shaped like a snarling wolf, the one to his right had the face of a crying woman upon it, and the farthest right one wore a mask that looked like no earthly creature, save it had eyes and what appeared to be a mouth. To the left, one wore a mask that was that of an angry man, face contorted in hatred, and the farthest left Arcanii wore a mask shaped like two faces joined at the cheek, one smiling evilly, the other contorted in fear.

Luca looked at his rather unwelcome allies, and nodded, "Cyclopii are excellent shock troops, and will be most useful. And I have something for you five to do when we get there."

Wolf nodded, for once not speaking with their legion voices, "Very well. We will assign two of our group to carry out your wishes." Crying Woman and Eldritch stepped forward, bowing gently.

Luca sighed, and waved forward one of his Centurions. "This is Centurion Lucius, and his job is to find any surviving members of the Staalshtan Royal Family and capture or execute them. You will assist him in this mission when we arrive. He will have a Century of Legionnaires at his disposal when we arrive, so you will not be lacking in protection." Lucius was a rather unremarkable Centurion, but he was the son of a cousin of Flavius Glaber, and so Luca wanted him far away from the true action.

Eldritch nodded and walked away, Crying Woman in tow. Wolf nodded at Luca, and he got the sense the Arcanii was smiling beneath his mask. "Is there anything else you require, lords?"

Less Arcanii to deal with. "No, Master Arcanii. Thank you."

[Hanslanda]

Slightly more detailed map of Staalshtan. Forgive the awful drawing, I'm a writer not an artist. Might do a geological map later.

http://artpad.art.com/gallery/?monisten1x4

[Hanslanda]

Gonna post another segment tomorrow afternoon.