Author: Syvern
Post Date: Tue Jul 31, 2012 12:29 am
Post subject: Obstinata
The bodies of the dead lay strewn about crimson blood soaking the earth and mixing with dirt to make a gory mud. Men cry for their families, for their gods to save them but nothing comes to their aid and those who aren’t already dead will be soon enough.
The Orc-demon killing squads walk among the dead their ebony armor absorbing the sunlight rather than shining. They were raised from their graves to do the bidding of one Con Quy. The demon walks among a killing party a childs head held firmly in his grasp chunks of flesh missing where he ate. His black armor is encrusted with rubies that shine against his grey molted flesh. Orange eyes stare at the bodies as spears are thrusted into the living ending their existence.
The city-state of Oorcinrath burns in the distance black smoke hanging low over the once majestic buildings. Bodies line the steps of the Temple of the Star their blood giving the once sand colored building a dark orange hue. Demons ran rampant through the streets raping and killing any who remain though there were not many.
A young man sits on the battle field panting heavy sweat running down his brow. Dark blue eyes stare at the dead man in front of him. His armor hangs broken from his body; naked arms are muscled and bronzed from the scorching sun. He could hear the killing party getting close; hear their mouths open in glee at the sight of a man still on his knees. They were in for a disappointment.
“So a human still stands to fight, well then human, die on your feet.” One of the Orc-demon hiss the others chuckling gleefully as spears are raised and pointed at the young man.
Syvern lifts his eyes to stare at the group of five, all with ten foot long spears pointed at him. His sword is cracked broken on the helm of a demon. He throws it to the side and stands slowly all much more to the satisfaction of the five. His black hair falls in front of his eyes matted with other men’s blood, his goatee suffering a similar fate.
“Kill him!” One shouts with glee and the five thrust their spears as one hoping to impale him but Syvern is no longer where he was. One Orc-demon shouts in surprise as a scavenged war axe buries itself into the back of his knee.
Syvern grabs the spear as the creature stumbles swinging it full circle; the sharpened steel tip drives through Orc-demon throat flesh drawing oozing black liquid. The creature gurgles clutching at its mangled neck. The other four are slowly catching up to the falling creature as the stolen spear drives into the gaping ugly mouth of a second.
Syvern moves faster than they can track, his six foot form between them like a ghost. A knife protrudes from the thirds eye, he isn’t quite dead but his spear doesn’t even touch the ground before it is forced through the armor of the fourth and almost all the way into the fifth. Syvern turns and grabs the Orc-demon just as the creature removes the knife from its eye. It snarls as a hand wraps around its chin and jerks the head back with a satisfying crunch.
The fifth Orc-demon stumbles backward as the first Orc-demon hits the ground followed by the other three. Syvern stands still weaponless, blue eyes staring at the remaining foe. He can hear another group running over, he estimates twenty. A misplaced dagger is picked up and he flicks it at the last Orc-demon just as it tries to charge, the creature doesn’t even have a chance to react as the blade sinks neatly between its eyes.
The young man turns to face the new group, twenty full grown demons, all in hardened bone armor circling to either side with shields and swords. He rolls his shoulders and scans them all closely figuring out which would be the easiest to take out first.
“Stop! Stop at once!” Con-Quy emerges at the head of the circle, sharp teeth showing in a grin as he sizes up the young man. “He is not to be killed!” He yells at the gathered demons that all lower their weapons. Con-Quy steps forward hands spreading to show he is unarmed and means no harm. “What is your name warrior?”
Syvern eyes up the creature knowing his birth name might be known even this far from Kl’vane. His brain works quickly for an answer, on the ship he had traveled across the great ocean the captain had given him the name Enaid-dro which in common tongue had translated to simply meaning wandering soul. Syvern lifts his eyes to stare into the dark orange eyes of the creature. “I am Soul.”
“A peculiar name for a peculiar man. What if I told you I had a job for you that I think you can complete? A job that when completed well allow me to give you not only freedom but riches beyond your wildest dreams?” Con-Quy keeps a small distance; he had seen what this creature could do.
Syvern looks around at the bloodshed, it was too late to help these people. Maybe he could do this task and use the riches to come back and finish off Con-Quy though the demon was just there in front of him nineteen heavily armored creatures were just waiting for him to make a wrong move. He looks back to the demon king and nods his head slowly, “What do I have to do for you?”
“Vesnic-monte is a mountain of molten rock with a lake in its crater. In this lake is a temple that contains a single sword that I desire. I cannot be bothered to go there on my own but the sword is of my family heritage it only responds to a true Quy.” The demon king smiles a toothy smile as though to hint that Syvern should try nothing. “If you can get the blade and return it to me then you shall get everything you promised.”
“If I don’t?” The young man asked tilting his head, the sun seemed to only be getting hotter.
The demon laughed taking a bite out of the childs skull cracking bone with teeth. “You shall die by my hand or by the teeth of the guardian of the lake. Take your pick.”
Syvern nods slowly, “I accept your offer. Get me to this Vesnic-monte and I shall fetch you your sword.”
“Excellent!”
Author: Syvern
Post Date: Mon Sep 10, 2012 11:19 am
Post subject: Re: Obstinata
The Temple of the Star rose above the flaming remains of Oorcinrath and the demon army rested beneath its stone foundations. Con-Quy sips blood from a golden goblet his ebony armor traded for the moment for a black silk robe that flowed like ink around him on his throne. Orc bodies possessed by demons stand around the hall chewing on the flesh of the fallen.
The hall was large, fifty feet high and the ceiling made of clear quartz that allowed the sun above to shine through for worship of the Star. Now the sun seemed muted and shined on death and madness. Demons fight for human flesh like dogs would for a bone. The lost prince stands in the far corner of the room ankles weighted by shackles and wrists clamped tight with steel cuffs. His armor had been stripped away leaving him in a plain tan tunic and leggings; he had been allowed to keep his boots.
His eyes wander the crowd watching the blood flow freely down the dripping maws of the monsters, a few humans had been kept alive for serving purposes and he watched a young man trip over a misplaced sword and land on a demon. The creature turns and tears his throat out stuffing it into his open mouth without a second thought. Syvern was disgusted by the way they acted, like savages, had they no proper manners?
You shouldn’t think like that my dear prince. The voice murmured in his head, it was with his voice but it was not him. Soul was the name that the being that was him but not him had taken. He could feel it in the back of his mind watching through his eyes. They are savages only to you; to them this is a normal feast.
People died here. Syvern thought back watching still as Con-Quy hoisted the body of a young girl up to begin to feast upon her flesh. He tried to look away but Soul held his eyes forward to make him watch. No you can’t make me watch!
Yes I can and you must, we agreed to help him and who knows what horrors await us where we are going. He plans to march north to Misranchit the city state of men built at the base of Vesnic-monte the fire mountain with a crater that held the temple of Obstinata beneath a lake. We will help them sack the city and then help him get his sword and then we will kill him with it.
You are so confident we will be able to do such a thing. Syvern argues his eyes still trying to pull away from the scene fists clenching. Soul let him go and those soft blue eyes turned away. What if we can’t do it?
We must he needs this blade for its power. If we can harness it for ourselves then we can kill him and free ourselves. He will just kill us after we get the sword anyway. Soul finished vanishing into the depths of Syverns mind.
Con-Quy strolled over in his inky robe carrying the arm of the young girl he had been feasting upon. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”
Syvern looked hard at the demon king as though the creature was joking, “You are a monster.”
“Ah but am I? You see my ancestor conquered these lands a long time ago, he rid the world of Duw Heddwich the god of the realm and brought about a peace. The humans and their elf allies did not like to live under Kakoc-Quy and they created an abomination. Anghenfyl was the first of what came to be known as arraki a monster sharing traits for elves, demons and vampires. Anghenfyl defeated Kakoc-Quy in battle and Obstinata was cast into the Temple of Obstinata in the crater of Vesnic-monte and filled with water and protected by its guardians.” Con-Quy took a large bite from the arm and pointed it at him, “And now a descendant of Anghenfyl will retrieve Obstinata for a descendant of Kakoc-Quy.”
Syvern stares at the demon, “What do you mean a descendant of Anghenfyl?” He was thoroughly confused; he was an elf, the prince of Kl’vane and descendant from King Goedent the elf who had brought peace to the humans and elves.
Con-Quy stabbed his arm with the end of the arm bone causing the lost prince to hiss in pain, blood welled from the stab wound rolling down his arm and dripping to the floor where it sizzled on the stone melting through it. “An arraki has acidic blood that can burn through nearly anything. I could smell it inside of you the moment I got close enough. One hasn’t been seen in this realm since Alexian De’Sylvanus disappeared with his children, most thinking he went somewhere else in space and time. Infighting killed nearly all of them, Alexian and his three children were the last though some say an arraki never truly dies.” Con-Quy took a bite of meat from the arm and stares at Syvern, “I do not know where you come from but it is said only an arraki can enter the temple of Obstinata, we will test this.”
Con-Quy turns and wanders among his warriors laughing and cheerful suddenly leaving Syvern to ponder these new revelations, he stares at the wound that was already beginning to heal itself shut. Had his mother known this? Where had he come from if not from her? Or had she been carrying a half elf, half arraki child? Cold blue eyes lift to watch Con-Quy, he needed to find out who he was but this demon was stopping him. I am going to get his sword, Syvern thought, and then I am going to kill him with it.
Author: Syvern
Post Date: Fri Sep 21, 2012 12:48 pm
Post subject: Re: Obstinata
Leaving Oorcinrath took three more days the demon soldiers had found hold outs of human life and enslaved them. Syvern looked back towards them as a horde stomped through the once vibrant fields on the out skirts of the city. The orchards and wheat had been burned during the siege which Syvern remembered in his mind.
Con-Quys army had been forcing itself upon the citizens of the outskirts when Syvern had arrived at Oorcinrath from the opposite side just as the guards were closing the portcullis in the eastern wall. They hadn’t let him in until he offered to help, they had been dubious at first but Syvern had been young and strong and they had let him in nonetheless. He had shown his skill that first night by manning ballistae at the top of a tower for a full 8 hours launching pots full of a liquid that stuck and burned to anything.
He had almost revealed himself to the captains of the guard the next morning when they prodded him with questions. He wasn’t sure if he’d be returned after the war and he kept silent about his origins, Kl’vane was a world away but he couldn’t be too safe. He had said he came from the northern city state of Misranchit and had been heading south towards Yyriuutee when he had come upon the battle. Instead of being trapped between the walls and Con-Quys army he had decided joining the defense was his best choice.
The captains had accepted it readily enough and returned him to the wall where he had watched the fields and orchards burn most of the crops having been already brought into the city. The army was a black smear on the golden lands and only grew as it gathered just out of range of the defenders weapons. Captain Eres Bvee had come up with the plan of counter attack, the mass of the army would leave through the eastern portcullis at night and march upon Con-Quy from the flank while the defenders would fire in distraction. Syvern had said it was folly to try and attack the attackers when they had the stores to wait them out but Eres had blood on his mind and this is where it had led them to.
Syvern marches past a burning home, burnt bones crushed into the hard ground, not everyone had made it to the city before the gates were closed. Only a hundred citizens of Oorcinrath remained, and they soon would be dead as they died of hunger, thirst or exhaustion. Syvern glances back again hands still weighted by the heavy shackles; there was nothing he could do for them. By his estimates before the battle Con-Quy had had twenty thousand possessed Orcs and another five-thousand full-fledged demons. After the foolish mistake of Eres Bvee they had fifteen thousand possessed Orcs and nearly still five thousand demons.
The demons wore full armor in the sunlight the heavy metal marked with runes protecting the dark beings within from the sun’s harmful light. The possessed Orcs looked like any other Orc, skin dark grey and eyes of orange but Orcs had not been seen on either continent since the last Great War where they had sided with Kakoc-Quy. Men on the wall and the priests of the temples had both said that they must be raised dead brought back from the underworld to fight for their new master. He figured as much was true when he’d seen some walking around with arms cut off and no blood flowed.
The sun was high above them beating down making him sweat. His lifts his arms to wipe his brow, his mind going to the task he had agreed to do that had spared his life. He had heard talk of the blade Obstinata it was a common folk tale on both continents and Syvern had never paid it much mind before. The arraki were a legend as well, it was said Anghenfyl had become almost mad with power after the defeat of Kakoc-Quy and acted as a god in the realm. He had created more arraki and these eventually interbred with the species they closely resembled but this tainted the blood line. A purge had been started by one of the pure descendants which had eventually led to an all-out battle between the gods like beings and led to this eventual disappearance.
But if I am one, does that make me god like? Syvern thinks to himself, feeling the presence of Soul swimming through his mind.
Does a god allow himself to be shackled and chained? The other half whispers in his mind.
Syvern frowns looking down at the ugly metal shackles, he supposed not.
We were never really gods just extremely strong and hard to kill. They conquered the realm and then sat upon mighty thrones and commanded the men and elves to do as they say. But power always leads to defeat and they destroyed themselves from within. But maybe not entirely since you are here today, somehow. Soul answers seeming wiser than he was.
Why would my mother hide me, did she know?
I do not know that young prince though I am sure she knew and the arraki were hated almost as much as Kakoc-quy when they disappeared maybe she was afraid they would come and kill you as a child?
This made Syvern pause, until a demon shoved him from behind. She had been protecting him and now he had fled from her. He curses at himself and continues forward after another shove. I’ll have to go back and make amends.
Maybe you will get the chance, but first we must get the sword and kill Kakoc-Quy for as long as he lives the realm is in danger and if he gets his hands on Obstinata we will be the only ones able to stop him, much like Anghenfyl long ago. So keep pushing forward young prince we will be successful or we will die but we will try.
Author: Syvern
Post Date: Tue Dec 18, 2012 2:13 am
Post subject: Re: Obstinata
Vesnic-monte spewed steam into the bright blue sky; the white cloud billowed and shadowed the keep of Misranchit. The fortress was built into the mountain that much was obvious from the gentle sloping hills that lead to the base of the mountain. Syvern stared at the high walls, thick and rigid in the rising sun. It taunted him as though telling him he would never make it past them.
Misranchit looked better fortified than Kl’vane had been. He narrows his eyes lifting them to where the peak of Vesnic-monte was hidden in the steam cloud. That was where he’d be heading one way or another. He turns his head to look at the remains of the human captives; most had died leaving only a few strong young men and resilient old women.
The army had made camp well in view of the walls but out of range of the ballistae and catapults that were mounted on the numerous round towers. His shackles weighing him down, he turned away from his future conflict and sat on one of the stumps from the woodlands. He had bargained with Con-Quy and gotten his human companions that much.
One of the strongest of the boys was a lad by the name of Bennettio. His skin was olive like most Oorcinraths citizens. He was watching Syvern with pale green eyes. The lost prince met them and nodded once; he’d been talking with the captives and planning. Giving Syvern the idea he had acidic blood had been a move that had flipped the board into the lost prince’s favor.
He pressed his hands between his legs and began to rub them ever so slowly together but putting as much pressure as he could. They were still guarded; twenty orc surrounded the forty slaves keeping them from escape. They were in the back of the army, away from the vanguard and furthest from the city.
The lost prince had spied something a league back and had talked it over and now the plan was set; the key to their success: his blood. He felt skin tear and the metal began to sizzle, almost too loudly in his sensitive ears but none of the guards seemed any the wiser. After a moment the metal popped apart on his left wrist letting his hands free.
There were two sets of keys, one on two guards of the twenty around them, keeping his hands lowered he stood slowly, mimicking the look of a man still shackled. He approached one of the guards with the keys, feeling blood still dripping from his wrists. The guard turned and growled a threat at him once.
He flicked his left wrist up the acidic drops pelting the guards face causing him to howl in agony. Syvern snatched the keys with his right hand and threw them behind his back as he used his left
hand to snatch the sword from the orc whom now raked his own eyes turning to remove the burning that had left him blind.
Turning quickly, knowing he had mere moments before the other guards descended upon him he saw Bennettio using the keys on others, already free himself. The others had crouched behind their logs, shackle chains stretched tight across the wood. Precisely why he had asked for the hunks of wood, he swung the sword with ferocity and speed he hadn’t been sure he was capable of, he was on his eighth swing when he felt the incoming swing of a sword.
He ducked and spun with one motion sticking the point of his blade up under the chin of the Orc guard. The other eighteen guards defended from all sides. Even weakened and hungry though the slaves were lifting logs and throwing them. Bennettio had unlocked most of them and had gathered the sword from the second dead guard.
Syvern could see toward Misranchit a size-able amount of Orcs noticing the disturbance. “Run! Go now!” Bennettio nodded and stabbed the next guard he saw before ushering on the smaller boys and the old women. Syvern glanced back toward the blood thirsty party charging toward him, to many to take on, live to fight another day.
He turned and followed the group of slaves, the Orcs hot on their trails. They had to make it a league, almost at full run. He shook his head, there was no way all of them could make it, and the old women were already slowing. His mouth set firm, they had known the risks if he was caught now he would be killed before Con-Quy could stop them. If they could make it then they could make it, but if not he couldn’t allow himself to try and save everyone unless he die himself.
They had lost the Orcs in the rolling hills by the time they came to what they had seen. The water churned loudly below foaming white on rocks. Of the forty that had escaped the camp, only twenty-five remained. He had been right, most of the older women had not made it, or at least had not made it this far yet.
“We should wait and see if there are others.” Bennettio was insisting, pacing.
“There is about to be ten thousand or more Orcs searching these hills for us, the river is the fastest way to Misranchit.” Syvern answered, getting impatient with the young man who had helped with his plan.
“So it is either death by rapids or death by swords?” Another person piped up.
“You all knew the plan. I explained it and you all agreed, it was our only option of escape.” He was getting frustrated.
“But more of us might be coming.” Bennettio argued, but his voice was losing its bluster.
“And they might not, we need to go now and hope we make it alive to Misranchit.” Syvern answered discarding his sword and boots, they would only weigh him down. “You either come with me or you sit here and wait.” He looked at them one final time before plunging into the raging torrent below.
The water was chilling, but not unbearable and it carried him quickly downstream without letting him glance back up to see if his fellow prisoners were coming. He tried to though and paid dearly for it when he turned back around and collided with the rock, one figure dropping into the surf that was the last thing he saw before the rock swam into his vision and blacked him out.
His dreams were filled with Marle, her golden locks and bright emerald eyes. He thought of Kl’vane and its old walls and the throne room. His throne had been shorter than his fathers but comfy and he remember being a boy listening to commoners come to court, watching elven knights spar with curved swords. Succulent meals and listening to his father, learning every day. Marle came to his mind again, swimming through it, he hadn’t thought he loved her yet she permeated his thoughts almost every day now. She swam toward him, but the sunlight was growing brighter behind her, threatening to wash her away.
He coughed and sat straight up flinching back at the broad spearheads pointed at his chest. Around him some bodies lay, white skinned with blue lips, others, like Bennettio stood together surrounded by men in blue and white plate armor. He coughed again, removing water from his lungs looking back up to the men with spears.
“We made it.”