Post by Deleted on Aug 21, 2012 1:12:12 GMT -5
((Well, I'm assuming from what I've seen that this will be the longest single post in the story section and maybe the site. I don't know honestly lol))
Chapter One
The King is Born
King Drayden of the recently formed Bloodeye Elf Alliance, or BEA for short, waited outside the nursery in anticipation of his new son. It was to be his first born, and the one to carry on his bloodline of newly found royalty. Not thirty years ago Drayden himself defeated the leaders of the other three Bloodeye clans in battle and assumed control over them, cementing his role as the first Bloodeye Elf king. The High Elves had recently split into various factions amongst themselves, being too numerous to stay as one nation. It was pathetic how little hold the royalty had on their populace, letting them breed like rats. Drayden made sure that didn’t happen by constantly expanding his kingdom, killing off the weak breeds of beings around it. He sighed in thought of all this, hoping his son could carry on his legacy without any rebellions.
As another point of interest, he hoped the boy looked like his mother. Drayden was an ugly elf, with scars adorning his face like decorations at a festival. One of his two eyes was gouged out in battle ten years ago, and he kept his head clean shaven. Otherwise it would be a gray color and only grow in patches on his brutally scarred scalp. No elf had ever seen as much battle as he had, and his well-muscled body proved that point valid. He smiled, thinking of which direction he needed to expand next. His thoughts were interrupted by screaming, however, and he briefly raised his head in interest. Then, once the screaming of his wife blended into the background he lowered it again and thought of the future. He and his wife had already picked a name out, Vunthe Halybrook. His son would be taught the ways of war and of learning from the time he learned how to walk and he would be taught by Drayden himself.
Half an hour passed by, then the sounds of a crying infant started to echo throughout the halls of the otherwise quiet nursery. Drayden stood carefully, always aware of his bad left leg that had been cut almost in two in his battle with the three clan leaders. He hobbled over to the door and started to open it when a very disgruntled elven woman slammed it back in his face.
“She is not finished yet, and as such you will stay out there.” The she elf commanded from the other side of the door. Drayden, surprised, transformed into his blood release and stood directly outside the door. He would wait until his wife stopped screaming, which she had started back up very quickly after birth. Another forty minutes passed before the door was cracked open. Drayden walked in carefully and saw a female elf carrying two bundles of cloth in her arms. His wife was silent, and Drayden quickly found out why. Blood stained the floor, too much for any mortal being to survive. In childbirth, a Bloodeye cannot transform into their blood release without killing the child. It had caused many deaths that otherwise wouldn’t have happened. Drayden furrowed his brow and bit his lip. Despite not showing it well, he had loved Ashuh with all his heart. To see her lying dead on a table didn’t suit him well.
“I want her body on a pyre within two hours. She will see a quick send off to the afterlife as long as I am king.” Drayden ordered. Every elf in the room save the one carrying the children took off to ready everything. Drayden walked over to the elf and crooked his arms, where she placed both infants in his arms. He looked to the one in his left arm and smiled. “First born, Vunthe?” He asked the female. She nodded, then sighed.
“And with her dying breath she wished for you to name the other boy Exen.” The elf said in a whisper. Drayden sighed. This was problematic, as Bloodeye elves didn’t usually have twins and when they did they usually ended up killing each other before the age of seven. Drayden sighed again, then nodded.
“Elf woman, I have a burden to place on you but it will be under royal oath. Take Exen, give him your name and raise him as your own. You will be taken care of for this burden, but should you refuse or divulge the secret to any I will kill both you and the boy. Understood?” Drayden asked, almost ordering the elf. She swore, then nodded her understanding. She snatched Exen and held him close. Drayden turned and walked back out of the room with a smile.
“Vunthe Halybrook… The future king of the Bloodeye. I know in my heart that you will be the best king she has ever known and an even fiercer warrior. Make me proud, my son.” Drayden whispered to the baby. In response, Vunthe grabbed Drayden’s face and pulled hard with a giggle. He was a fierce one alright.
Chapter Two-
An Early Kingship
Vunthe grew up in a royal palace that was filled with guards, while Exen the abandoned Elf Prince was cast aside. He got a spell to age him further than needed to disguise the fact and had his fighting abilities forced into memory. Not even he knew how he had gotten to his ‘mother’s’ house, or why he knew so much yet so little. Vunthe grew and was taught all forms of combat, and one day his blood release was unleashed. His physical abilities were all doubled, making him a very formidable opponent. One day, his old father decided to test his son in an actual battle instead of just training exercises.
“Father! Father, are we really off to war?” The fifteen year old Vunthe asked enthusiastically. Drayden, who now had a gray beard, nodded his approval. “Against who?” Vunthe asked, even more excited. One-thousand armed elves stood behind the royal family, all dressed head to toe in armor and each wielded a broadsword and a kite shield. Each had different blood releases, but each would die for the honor of battle.
“The Wild Elves have been encroaching upon our borders, raiding villages and sacking cities. One clan in particular does most of this, and it is this clan we march against. Are you sure you’re ready, Vunthe?” Drayden asked. Vunthe nodded his head quickly, excited for battle. He had trained every day, and now his training would be of use to everybody. Drayden laughed, then put a hand on Vunthe’s shoulder.
“Then prepare yourself for war, my son.”
The march itself took one week, and once they got to the spot of frequent raiding they were met by cheers and showers of food and gifts. Flowers were very popular. The Bloodeye Elves had a mighty nation, with 150,000 citizens in her borders. They would keep growing and may even become powerful enough to stomp out the Wood and Night Elves before they could form any sort of cohesive force to oppose them. Vunthe marveled at how the countryside was ravaged, with farms and crops having been torched to the ground. It filled him with an inner hatred so great he thought he would burst from it. The city they lodged in was walled off and had held against the clan of Wild Elves with nothing but a puny 100 man garrison. Drayden rewarded their efforts with one-thousand Chaa each, easily enough to support a three member family for twenty years comfortably. Then it was down to business. Drayden ordered civilians to stay indoors and to leave the gates unlocked. He would invite the Wild Elves to a wild death in the streets. Nightfall came, and with it came the cries of a warband making its way to the city walls.
A scout tested the gates and upon finding them unlocked snuck back off into the night. Drayden, of course, sensed it in his blood release. His release gave him the potential to ‘see’ things he otherwise may not have been able to. It had saved him many times in his entire life. “M’lord, should we really battle in the streets?” asked a nervous soldier. Drayden snickered.
“A bottleneck is perfect for these barbarians. We have thermal vision, they don’t. It is night time as well, thus we have an immense advantage. We will be victorious and I shall celebrate my son’s first victorious battle back in the capitol.” Drayden stated confidently. Then, the enemy appeared. The scout on top of the walls gasped, then relayed the enemy numbers to everybody through mindspeak. There was two-thousand of the Wild Elves, as apparently two clans had decided to attack. Vunthe laughed, knowing this just meant there were more enemy to kill and thus rid the world of. Within minutes the Wild Elves were at the gates, busting them down with brute force. They wore no armor and were the only elves to have facial hair. They looked like human barbarians, except better clothed and with pointed ears. None had any steel weapons, but all had at least bronze. Some even had iron. The battle went smoothly at first, with the first wave of assailants being annihilated. Five-hundred elves dead in as many seconds, and Vunthe had killed three of them personally without his blood release.
“So the Dark King approaches…” A voice said, resounding over the field of battle. The Wild Elves stopped dead in their tracks outside the walls, then all looked into the city with a look of sheer terror. “Kill him and feel the grace of Fenrir bless your hearth at home…” The voice said, somewhat more distant now. Vunthe furrowed his brow, then held up his shield and sword. His father stood beside him, armed with a single katana. His favored weapon that had slain many an enemy over his lifetime. The Wild Elves charged silently into the city, each with a look so fierce you would have thought they were possessed by a warrior god. Vunthe soon found himself overrun and entered his blood release. Twenty enemy elves died in fifteen short seconds. Drayden laughed as his son slaughtered the enemy.
“That’s how ya’ do it boy! Keep up the good work!” He screamed. Vunthe continued the bloody task, carving a way through the Wild Elves until he found himself in a clearing near the gate. Strange, that shouldn’t have happened.
“So, a brave one makes his presence known.” A dark, deep voice said from the shadows. Vunthe looked over and read a heat signature, and it was huge. An elf, six and a half feet tall and very hairy, stepped out. A massive battle axe was gripped in his very meaty hand. “Are you ready to die, young one?” He asked. The elf had a crown of bronze on his head, and Vunthe immediately realized he was facing a war chief. They were twice as strong as a bloodeye elf was, so that meant Vunthe was almost equal in strength to him. Almost. But they’re speed was lacking, just like the rest of their species. Strong, but slow and easily killed by a skilled swordsman. Vunthe smiled, deciding this was a perfect opportunity to test his abilities. He charged, shield raised, and thrust at the elf. He heard the satisfying sound of metal entering a body, but the laugh was unexpected. Without warning, the axe swooped down and the broad side of it snapped vunthe’s leg at the knee. Healers could fix it, but the pain would be great. Vunthe fell to the ground, crippled. The axe came down again and crushed the shield he put up to protect his body. His arm went numb and he realized that it, too, was shattered. He stared up at the Wild Elf, ready to die. The axe came down again… but nothing hit Vunthe’s body. He opened his eyes and saw a Bloodeye Elf standing above him with a massive sword in his hand. Drayden knelt next to his son, a scowl on his face.
“Never run off like that again! EVER! Exen, let’s kill this fool!” Drayden screamed. When he said Exen’s name, his voice softened a little. Not much, but Vunthe’s trained ears heard the slight tonal change. He forced himself to sit up and realized that his sword was still stuck in the stomach of the Wild Elf. The three fought for what seemed like hours but was only seconds in real life. Exen lopped off a leg, Drayden broke the other knee… Then an arrow found its mark in the neck of the king. Drayden moved his hand to the arrow, then turned and stumbled towards his son. Blood poured out of his mouth, as the arrow had severed every major vein and artery in his neck. “Vun…the…” He whispered, before collapsing on the ground in a pile. Exen withdrew his blade from the chest of the Wild Elf and threw a dagger at the archer, who fell to the ground with a thud. Vunthe dragged himself to his father with one arm and held himself up with one arm. The sounds of battle died down around him as the Wild Elves were slaughtered in the streets, just like Drayden had planned.
“Father…you can’t go. I need so much more training, so much more guidance…Please…” Vunthe whispered, a tear escaping his eye. Drayden looked at his son, blood coating the gravel below his body.
“Don’t cry…it shows weakness… But my time is over my son. Become strong like me, and lead…lead your people to glory the likes of which they never knew before…” Drayden whispered, barely audible. “Exen…guide him to victory…” He said out loud and in mindspeak. Vunthe shook his head.
“I’m not ready… I don’t want to be king yet…” He said through sobs. His father smiled.
“You will do great, my son. I love you, and I believe in you. Fare…farewell…” Drayden muttered through a mouthful of blood. With that, the King of the Bloodeye faded away into the darkness that is death.
“Vunthe…” Exen grumbled in remorse. The new king stared at his father, not wishing to believe what he just witnessed. Exen grabbed the new king and hoisted him over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but time to mourn is later. For now, you need healed. My king.” Exen said in a low voice. He jumped with his increased strength onto buildings and led the king to the temporary hospital in the back of the city. A new reign was to begin, with Vunthe deciding what was next to come. Would it be a good reign, or a reign filled with strife? Only time would tell.
Chapter One
The King is Born
King Drayden of the recently formed Bloodeye Elf Alliance, or BEA for short, waited outside the nursery in anticipation of his new son. It was to be his first born, and the one to carry on his bloodline of newly found royalty. Not thirty years ago Drayden himself defeated the leaders of the other three Bloodeye clans in battle and assumed control over them, cementing his role as the first Bloodeye Elf king. The High Elves had recently split into various factions amongst themselves, being too numerous to stay as one nation. It was pathetic how little hold the royalty had on their populace, letting them breed like rats. Drayden made sure that didn’t happen by constantly expanding his kingdom, killing off the weak breeds of beings around it. He sighed in thought of all this, hoping his son could carry on his legacy without any rebellions.
As another point of interest, he hoped the boy looked like his mother. Drayden was an ugly elf, with scars adorning his face like decorations at a festival. One of his two eyes was gouged out in battle ten years ago, and he kept his head clean shaven. Otherwise it would be a gray color and only grow in patches on his brutally scarred scalp. No elf had ever seen as much battle as he had, and his well-muscled body proved that point valid. He smiled, thinking of which direction he needed to expand next. His thoughts were interrupted by screaming, however, and he briefly raised his head in interest. Then, once the screaming of his wife blended into the background he lowered it again and thought of the future. He and his wife had already picked a name out, Vunthe Halybrook. His son would be taught the ways of war and of learning from the time he learned how to walk and he would be taught by Drayden himself.
Half an hour passed by, then the sounds of a crying infant started to echo throughout the halls of the otherwise quiet nursery. Drayden stood carefully, always aware of his bad left leg that had been cut almost in two in his battle with the three clan leaders. He hobbled over to the door and started to open it when a very disgruntled elven woman slammed it back in his face.
“She is not finished yet, and as such you will stay out there.” The she elf commanded from the other side of the door. Drayden, surprised, transformed into his blood release and stood directly outside the door. He would wait until his wife stopped screaming, which she had started back up very quickly after birth. Another forty minutes passed before the door was cracked open. Drayden walked in carefully and saw a female elf carrying two bundles of cloth in her arms. His wife was silent, and Drayden quickly found out why. Blood stained the floor, too much for any mortal being to survive. In childbirth, a Bloodeye cannot transform into their blood release without killing the child. It had caused many deaths that otherwise wouldn’t have happened. Drayden furrowed his brow and bit his lip. Despite not showing it well, he had loved Ashuh with all his heart. To see her lying dead on a table didn’t suit him well.
“I want her body on a pyre within two hours. She will see a quick send off to the afterlife as long as I am king.” Drayden ordered. Every elf in the room save the one carrying the children took off to ready everything. Drayden walked over to the elf and crooked his arms, where she placed both infants in his arms. He looked to the one in his left arm and smiled. “First born, Vunthe?” He asked the female. She nodded, then sighed.
“And with her dying breath she wished for you to name the other boy Exen.” The elf said in a whisper. Drayden sighed. This was problematic, as Bloodeye elves didn’t usually have twins and when they did they usually ended up killing each other before the age of seven. Drayden sighed again, then nodded.
“Elf woman, I have a burden to place on you but it will be under royal oath. Take Exen, give him your name and raise him as your own. You will be taken care of for this burden, but should you refuse or divulge the secret to any I will kill both you and the boy. Understood?” Drayden asked, almost ordering the elf. She swore, then nodded her understanding. She snatched Exen and held him close. Drayden turned and walked back out of the room with a smile.
“Vunthe Halybrook… The future king of the Bloodeye. I know in my heart that you will be the best king she has ever known and an even fiercer warrior. Make me proud, my son.” Drayden whispered to the baby. In response, Vunthe grabbed Drayden’s face and pulled hard with a giggle. He was a fierce one alright.
Chapter Two-
An Early Kingship
Vunthe grew up in a royal palace that was filled with guards, while Exen the abandoned Elf Prince was cast aside. He got a spell to age him further than needed to disguise the fact and had his fighting abilities forced into memory. Not even he knew how he had gotten to his ‘mother’s’ house, or why he knew so much yet so little. Vunthe grew and was taught all forms of combat, and one day his blood release was unleashed. His physical abilities were all doubled, making him a very formidable opponent. One day, his old father decided to test his son in an actual battle instead of just training exercises.
“Father! Father, are we really off to war?” The fifteen year old Vunthe asked enthusiastically. Drayden, who now had a gray beard, nodded his approval. “Against who?” Vunthe asked, even more excited. One-thousand armed elves stood behind the royal family, all dressed head to toe in armor and each wielded a broadsword and a kite shield. Each had different blood releases, but each would die for the honor of battle.
“The Wild Elves have been encroaching upon our borders, raiding villages and sacking cities. One clan in particular does most of this, and it is this clan we march against. Are you sure you’re ready, Vunthe?” Drayden asked. Vunthe nodded his head quickly, excited for battle. He had trained every day, and now his training would be of use to everybody. Drayden laughed, then put a hand on Vunthe’s shoulder.
“Then prepare yourself for war, my son.”
The march itself took one week, and once they got to the spot of frequent raiding they were met by cheers and showers of food and gifts. Flowers were very popular. The Bloodeye Elves had a mighty nation, with 150,000 citizens in her borders. They would keep growing and may even become powerful enough to stomp out the Wood and Night Elves before they could form any sort of cohesive force to oppose them. Vunthe marveled at how the countryside was ravaged, with farms and crops having been torched to the ground. It filled him with an inner hatred so great he thought he would burst from it. The city they lodged in was walled off and had held against the clan of Wild Elves with nothing but a puny 100 man garrison. Drayden rewarded their efforts with one-thousand Chaa each, easily enough to support a three member family for twenty years comfortably. Then it was down to business. Drayden ordered civilians to stay indoors and to leave the gates unlocked. He would invite the Wild Elves to a wild death in the streets. Nightfall came, and with it came the cries of a warband making its way to the city walls.
A scout tested the gates and upon finding them unlocked snuck back off into the night. Drayden, of course, sensed it in his blood release. His release gave him the potential to ‘see’ things he otherwise may not have been able to. It had saved him many times in his entire life. “M’lord, should we really battle in the streets?” asked a nervous soldier. Drayden snickered.
“A bottleneck is perfect for these barbarians. We have thermal vision, they don’t. It is night time as well, thus we have an immense advantage. We will be victorious and I shall celebrate my son’s first victorious battle back in the capitol.” Drayden stated confidently. Then, the enemy appeared. The scout on top of the walls gasped, then relayed the enemy numbers to everybody through mindspeak. There was two-thousand of the Wild Elves, as apparently two clans had decided to attack. Vunthe laughed, knowing this just meant there were more enemy to kill and thus rid the world of. Within minutes the Wild Elves were at the gates, busting them down with brute force. They wore no armor and were the only elves to have facial hair. They looked like human barbarians, except better clothed and with pointed ears. None had any steel weapons, but all had at least bronze. Some even had iron. The battle went smoothly at first, with the first wave of assailants being annihilated. Five-hundred elves dead in as many seconds, and Vunthe had killed three of them personally without his blood release.
“So the Dark King approaches…” A voice said, resounding over the field of battle. The Wild Elves stopped dead in their tracks outside the walls, then all looked into the city with a look of sheer terror. “Kill him and feel the grace of Fenrir bless your hearth at home…” The voice said, somewhat more distant now. Vunthe furrowed his brow, then held up his shield and sword. His father stood beside him, armed with a single katana. His favored weapon that had slain many an enemy over his lifetime. The Wild Elves charged silently into the city, each with a look so fierce you would have thought they were possessed by a warrior god. Vunthe soon found himself overrun and entered his blood release. Twenty enemy elves died in fifteen short seconds. Drayden laughed as his son slaughtered the enemy.
“That’s how ya’ do it boy! Keep up the good work!” He screamed. Vunthe continued the bloody task, carving a way through the Wild Elves until he found himself in a clearing near the gate. Strange, that shouldn’t have happened.
“So, a brave one makes his presence known.” A dark, deep voice said from the shadows. Vunthe looked over and read a heat signature, and it was huge. An elf, six and a half feet tall and very hairy, stepped out. A massive battle axe was gripped in his very meaty hand. “Are you ready to die, young one?” He asked. The elf had a crown of bronze on his head, and Vunthe immediately realized he was facing a war chief. They were twice as strong as a bloodeye elf was, so that meant Vunthe was almost equal in strength to him. Almost. But they’re speed was lacking, just like the rest of their species. Strong, but slow and easily killed by a skilled swordsman. Vunthe smiled, deciding this was a perfect opportunity to test his abilities. He charged, shield raised, and thrust at the elf. He heard the satisfying sound of metal entering a body, but the laugh was unexpected. Without warning, the axe swooped down and the broad side of it snapped vunthe’s leg at the knee. Healers could fix it, but the pain would be great. Vunthe fell to the ground, crippled. The axe came down again and crushed the shield he put up to protect his body. His arm went numb and he realized that it, too, was shattered. He stared up at the Wild Elf, ready to die. The axe came down again… but nothing hit Vunthe’s body. He opened his eyes and saw a Bloodeye Elf standing above him with a massive sword in his hand. Drayden knelt next to his son, a scowl on his face.
“Never run off like that again! EVER! Exen, let’s kill this fool!” Drayden screamed. When he said Exen’s name, his voice softened a little. Not much, but Vunthe’s trained ears heard the slight tonal change. He forced himself to sit up and realized that his sword was still stuck in the stomach of the Wild Elf. The three fought for what seemed like hours but was only seconds in real life. Exen lopped off a leg, Drayden broke the other knee… Then an arrow found its mark in the neck of the king. Drayden moved his hand to the arrow, then turned and stumbled towards his son. Blood poured out of his mouth, as the arrow had severed every major vein and artery in his neck. “Vun…the…” He whispered, before collapsing on the ground in a pile. Exen withdrew his blade from the chest of the Wild Elf and threw a dagger at the archer, who fell to the ground with a thud. Vunthe dragged himself to his father with one arm and held himself up with one arm. The sounds of battle died down around him as the Wild Elves were slaughtered in the streets, just like Drayden had planned.
“Father…you can’t go. I need so much more training, so much more guidance…Please…” Vunthe whispered, a tear escaping his eye. Drayden looked at his son, blood coating the gravel below his body.
“Don’t cry…it shows weakness… But my time is over my son. Become strong like me, and lead…lead your people to glory the likes of which they never knew before…” Drayden whispered, barely audible. “Exen…guide him to victory…” He said out loud and in mindspeak. Vunthe shook his head.
“I’m not ready… I don’t want to be king yet…” He said through sobs. His father smiled.
“You will do great, my son. I love you, and I believe in you. Fare…farewell…” Drayden muttered through a mouthful of blood. With that, the King of the Bloodeye faded away into the darkness that is death.
“Vunthe…” Exen grumbled in remorse. The new king stared at his father, not wishing to believe what he just witnessed. Exen grabbed the new king and hoisted him over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but time to mourn is later. For now, you need healed. My king.” Exen said in a low voice. He jumped with his increased strength onto buildings and led the king to the temporary hospital in the back of the city. A new reign was to begin, with Vunthe deciding what was next to come. Would it be a good reign, or a reign filled with strife? Only time would tell.
