Howdy fellow Blocktopians,
For a few months now I have been writing a book in the spare time of my spare time. I
have already shown my work to a select few people in weeks past, but I believe it is time to share it with the rest of Blocktopia.
The book is a work of medieval fiction, and my writing style has strongly been influenced
by George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series (A.K.A. the A Game of Thrones series.) Just like his work, mine is very, shall we say, gory, violent, and a tad depressing. Death runs rampant in this book, and I don't skip out on all of the juicy details.
The book is currently 4.5 chapters long, totaling up to 35 book pages. The prologue below
is roughly 8 book pages long, and I hope you all enjoy every sentence of it.
Prologue
The screams from the Tibon Forest could be heard all the way from The Forde. They were quiet
at first, and no one paid them any heed. But eventually, the ominous sounds could be heard more and became louder as the day grew older. The leal servants, farmers, and soldiers that are sworn to The Forde grew frightened. All Lord Ameri could do for the men who came from the east to plea for help was to command his few veteran and skilled knights to investigate the noise.Sir Darius Ameri was among those few. He was the eldest son of Lord Ameri and the leader of
the Steel Stallions, The Forde’s strongest fighters. With his close cropped black hair and his icy blue eyes, he was practically a replica of his father. In his father’s mind, he was the perfect son, and the only sworn sword of his that could bring an end to whatever was causing the mischievous behavior in the forest.Darius and his five companions left at first light of the following morning. The banner bearing the
sigil of House Ameri, a fiery stallion on a field of green, flapped and fluttered above the gate, waving them off on their voyage.“Open the gates!” boomed the commander of the city guard, Gerold Alveri. He has been a well-
respected man in The Forde and throughout surrounding farms and villages ever since the last great war when he killed a man who was fixing to butcher Darius’ sire. Darius himself was far on the other side of the battlefield, unable to aid his father. Gerold earned all the fame that he owns today in that battle alone, and can boast to be the only person that Lord Ameri could trust to keep his city and person safe.His mandate did not go unheard. Immediately, the iron gates that have protected this castle since
its founding were drawn up. It scraped against the stone arch as it was drawn up, creating a horrible screeching sound nigh as bad as the screams that were sounding from the forest. The screech made Darius shudder in his steel plate armor and made his horse stir wildly underneath him. A few gentle words set him and the horse back to tranquility.“No going back now,” muttered Sir Kendrick Rosmer, a comely youth with long blond hair and
sad blue eyes. He was no veteran of any battles, had no scars and obtained no wealth from plunder. He was, however, known to be incredibly dangerous with a sword in hand, or so their master-at-arms had told Lord Ameri. If we have to defend ourselves, he may have to prove those words, Darius waged.
Then they began to ride on through the gates into the grassy wastelands that surrounded The
Forde. A league beyond lay the seemingly haunted forest that Darius was destined to enter and investigate. No one knew what they were to expect in there, but soon they would find out.
Crossing a ford through a small stream that poured from Lake Etharia, the six men left behind the
grass plains only to enter the dreaded forest. Darius dropped down from his horse, as did the others in his group.
“We leave our horses here,” he commanded. “Tie them up to a tree, grab your arms and follow
me.”
“Yes sir!” replied Sir Sevron of The Forde, an orphan of the last great war that Darius found when
he returned to his home. Sevron tried to start a fight with a guard over a stale hunk of bread, pulled the guard’s poleaxe from his hands and threatened to kill him for it. When Darius found him in the castle dungeons awaiting his punishment, he instead put a sword into his hands and taught him the way of steel. Others questioned his judgment, but he knew that he had done the right thing.
As they tied up their horses, they heard an ear-piercing shrill coming from the forest. So the
screams begin, Darius concluded. “Form up,” he mandated “I want Sevron on our left and Berico on our right. Stay within sight of us and keep a look out for whatever might be lurking about these trees.”
“Aye,” they both replied simultaneously, and then left to carry out his command.
Darius turned to face the rest of them. “Kendrick, you and I shall take to the front, while Arturus
and Lewyn will guard our rear,” he stated. “Form up and move out!”
The others left without a word, all but Kendrick, who had a touch of fear in his eyes. Cowardice
can kill you in a fight, Darius though. He wanted to warn him, but could not find the strength to humiliate him, even if it was for his own good.
Then they began their trek into a wild green yonder full of mystery and deceit. Darius made
certain that everyone remained within his line of sight. If a knight as invaluable as these were lost in the forest, this mission would be considered a grave defeat. Let us pray that all of us are not lost.
“You may have to prove your skill with a sword today,” Darius found himself saying. “Are you
ready to do that?”
Kendrick looked at him with coward’s eyes, and nearly tripped on a root of one of the many
enormous pine trees that made up the Tibon Forest. He caught himself on a branch at the last second. “If I must, I shall defend my shield-brothers until my last breath.”
Hollow words from a hopeless knight, he knew.
They treaded onwards into the forest in silence from then on, until the forest became sparser and
they entered a region that seemed to never have known a tree. It seemed to be a perfect circle, and halfway through a rocky hill began to form with a cave leading through it.
Darius waited for the other knights and the rear guard to catch up. This is unnatural, he knew.
The thought made him shudder.
When they were all united shortly thereafter, all they could do was stare at the open, treeless
circle. A slimy red substance was smeared at the opening of the cave. Darius found himself stumbling towards the cave, suddenly afraid of what could have happened as well as what may happen here.
His companions moved with him two paces behind. When he reached the opening, a good two
hundred feet from the edge of the circle, he touched the substance. He put it to his mouth, and against all of his senses, he tasted it. “Blood.” He muttered against his breath.
Then came the second scream, and everyone in his party knew what was transpiring in these
woods. Blood magic, he realized. This place is unholy.
He found himself drawing his broadsword, and his shield-brothers did the same with their swords
and poleaxes. “My friends, I do not know what all has happened here, but I do know that before the end of this day more blood will be shed,” Darius said. “This place is unholy, and we must cleanse it in the name of my father and our god, Dul’Athur.”
His men cheered at him and raised their weapons towards the heavens. “Sevron, give everyone a
torch. We have sworn to resolve the issues here, and so we must. Light your torches, and keep your wits about you.”
Sevron handed him and everyone else a torch. Darius pulled out a piece of flint and a dagger from
a pouch on his sword belt, held it near the torch, and struck it with his dagger. Sparks flew and the kindle on the torch lit instantaneously. The others did the same, all but Sir Kendrick, who could not get his torch to light if it meant his life, so Arturus had to do it for him.
“Let’s go,” Darius said, “Our destiny awaits us.”
The cave was wider than it looked on the outside. There was room enough for two people to
walk abreast and be comfortable. Danger lurked in the shadow of every twist and turn in the cave. As they began to descend down the path, the cave began to get steeper. Stalactites formed on the rough ceiling of the cave, and began to grow larger as the path grew wider. For a short time, they had to duck their heads, lest they be stabbed by the sharp rocks above them.
Eventually they entered a large chamber, hundreds of feet wide at its farthest. So wide was it that
the torchlight could not reach the walls of the cave. There was evidence of a fire to their left, and the air smelled foul. Someone has been hiding here, he thought.
Then a wind blew, and all of the light went out. How does wind blow in a cave? A gasp and a
scream sounded at the same time, but who it was from, Darius could not say. Whispers surrounded them almost as much as darkness did.
Darius reached for his pouch and pulled out his flint and dagger, and went to work as fast as he
could to ignite his torch. The first two times he failed, and as he was about to abandon hope, the torch was set afire, and the world became clear once more.
Hundreds of people now surrounded them, some soldiers and others farmers and commoners,
some clothed and some naked or near enough not to matter, but almost all of them had visible scars on them. All of them but one: a medium sized man with a red and black robe and a skull in hand. His eyes were an unnatural green. A necromancer. An unholy priest of Zel'Noct.
“So you have finally joined us,” the priest of Zel’Noct said in a strained voice. He smirked at
them. This was a trap all along. How foolish of me to not realize it. “Now it is time for you to join us, in all of our glory and all of our shame. See to it, Baramus.”
A large, thick muscled man came forth. He had no shirt, and a large scar marked his chest where
his heart should be. “Bring them to me. Now!” he bellowed.
“Back to back!” He cried at his men. They formed up around each other, weapons in hand and
poised for the attack. Guarding his back was Sir Arturus, the man he trusted the most out of their group.
Creatures that used to be living men and women began to swarm them. A shaggy man with
brown hair and a scythe came at Darius first, and with his broadsword, he severed his head. He kept coming for a heartbeat, and then fell to the floor, finally dead for all time.
As they came at him, he heard Kendrick weep, just as Darius guessed he would. Poor lad, he
thought, he will die today, just as the rest of us will. He may be prideful and boast of his strength, but even the greatest warrior could not defeat hundreds of enemies with only five friends. He knew that his end was near.
“Make peace with your death, lads! It will come for us soon, but not before it comes for a lot of
them!”
His words were grim, but they raised the morale of his companions. He heard most of the knights
bellow a war cry or a cheer, all but Sir Kendrick, who was too scared to face his death bravely, and Sir Lewyn, who was slumped over his silver poleaxe in a puddle of his own blood that seeped from a huge gash through his body. Darius heard him make a few faint choking sounds, and then he raised his fist in the air. It dropped down a couple seconds later when life fled his body.
The knight that no longer had someone to watch his back was Sir Kendrick, who ceased fighting
and bent his knees. “Mercy,” he pleaded as he sobbed. “Please, I yield to you! I… I submit to the will of Zel’Noct!”
“Then you shall serve him faithfully in the afterlife,” bellowed the man the shadow priest called
Baramus. One of the necromancer’s minions shambled over to Kendrick, and before the dishonored knight could dishonor himself more, he was executed by a knife in his heart.
Meanwhile, waves of enemies swarmed the remaining knights. A giant of a man with a huge
stone maul came charging at Darius. He swung his maul with all of his might, but was to slow, and Darius dodged and parried his attack. Arturus was not so lucky; his skull was caved in by the impact of the giant’s ferocious attack. He died before he hit the ground
Furious, Darius lifted his weapon up and poised for the attack. The giant’s life ended with a
broadsword ripping through his skull, although no blood oozed from his wound.
“To me!” Darius shouted at Sir Sevron and Sir Berico, who were slaying enemies left and right.
He saw Sir Berico rip what used to be a farmer in half through his waist with his bastard sword. Berico looked at Darius with confusion, as if he had not heard the order. His mistake was taking his eye off of the people who were attacking him, and a war axe took him in his left shoulder. He shuddered and fell to the floor of the cave.
Sevron made it to Darius just before he was killed. A brute had pushed him down, making Darius
drop the torch. The brute was about to bring down a warhammer on his skull when Sevron cut off his right arm, tossed him to the floor, and beheaded the brute.
“The torch,” Darius exclaimed. Without light, they would be helpless and condemned sooner than
they are now. Light was essential to surviving as long as they could. “Grab it before it the embers die!”
It was too late then. The torchlight flickered and died right before a farmer came down on Sevron
with a scythe. The world went black, and he heard Sevron scream, followed by a thump to the ground. Then the world went silent. Have I died already? Is this what awaits the brave mortals who fought and died bravely?
Then, all around him, torches were ignited, and the world had light to it once more. Around him
stood hundreds more of the necromancer’s minions. The brute that Sevron had slain was Baramus, it seemed. Beside him, dead bodies littered the floor of the cave. Darius counted thirty-two, but he may have miscounted.
“A pity,” said the shadow priest, skull in hand. “Baramus was my best soldier. I suppose your
knights will have to fill his spot.” He spoke some unintelligible words to his skull, and around him his former allies awoke. They had hatred in their eyes, every one of them. The hatred was not for the ones who killed them, but for Darius himself.
“What have you done to them?” Darius asked.
“I’ve made them whole again, to serve me and the gods once more. Now the same shall happen
to you,” the necromancer said with a twisted, unholy cackle.
His once-companions grabbed their armaments and made their way over to Darius. He didn’t
bother putting up a fight; he knew that he was defeated. Sevron’s corpse raised its sword over its head filled with dim green eyes, and brought it down in a grey flurry of steel. The world went red, then black.
Please feel free to give me any kind of comment at all on my work, I accept all forms of criticism.
Also, if/when I receive 7 optimistic ratings, I shall reveal to you the religion (I.E. All of the gods,
what they do and who worships them) of the world that this book takes place in. If/when I receive 7 useful ratings, I shall post the map of the area that most of the story takes place. Whenever I get 15 total positive ratings, I'll post further chapters. This all is to ensure that I don't just post away all of what I have to people that don't really care about or like my book.
Enjoy!
