Topic: Challenging the God King

Naoi

Date: 2014-10-31 23:26 EST
Alta- A place that many called the birth place of gods, the point and intersection of the realm of gods and mortal plane. A paradise if you will with sprawling mountains and lush full forests as far as the eye could see until it met the great expanse of the unseeing salt lakes that extended beyond the eye's vision in clear blue waves. Fild'can, Naolin, Deserac, Drogen and her sister region Hougen made up the multiclimate range of the broad and legion covering landscape of Alta.

Alta had a key resource it could create; the Vessel. Men and women who the gods recognized as leaders and submitted themselves to in the form of artifacts, weapons, clothing, tools and even animals. These vessel would appear once or twice every few generations and shape Alta and her people for ages to come. One vessel, one God King of Alta.

But this system wouldn't always prove fool proof for the people and kingdoms. At times two or even three vessel would appear at the same time and vi for power among one another. The corruption of absolute control is something not all men and women can handle and these wars that would break between the vessel would extend into some of the bloodiest conflict Alta would ever see.

But at one time, here in the recent years, Alta had been under a singular God King. A man who had risen to power and claimed the treasury of gods the other kings had left behind for himself. He would rule for the next twenty years unopposed until one day the lord of Hougen broke free from his fealty and began his own campaign. Sporting a god he had subjugated himself and the others who had sought refuge in Alta and been slain over the current king's rule.

Hougen was the mountain throne for what the men and women of Alta called the Demon. A beast of a man who tamed their gods and turned his soldiers into thralls of undead to combat the safe and content lives of those subject under the God King of Alta. It was a brutal sort of struggle that had reached on into the latter years of a once great ruler's life. A vessel and a man who would see his last breath on the eve of his kingdom's final hour.

The siege of Hougen was in the final act of the play.

Naoi

Date: 2014-11-01 01:22 EST
THE DOWNFALL OF A KING

The glint of silver in the harsh haze of the snow shined even in the midst of the storm that had begun to blow over the capital of Hougen. The silver that glinted and began to crawl slowly with the white bite of ice was the armor of warriors giving their all and life in the name of a king. The name of a fool even. The enemy they sought to stomp from the mountain side had been deceased for some time and rattled with clacking bones with each shuffled step and masterful swing of a weapon. Minions of the Demon, an existence that deserved no mercy.

A darkened bone skull hissed and gushed a heavy breath of molded air onto the helmet of the solder under it and holding the creature back by the throat with gauntlet covered hand, eyeless socket at the level point of deep blue under the silver horse fur helmet. A battle between dead and living that had drug out into a battle of wills between mindless and free.

Sweat glistened on the bridge of the solder's scrunched nose and an indomitable furry was released in a roar of determination as the soldier pushed back in a quick burst on the skeletal creature's spinal neck and jammed the blade that had been at his side between the spinal column. The look in his eye was indignant and furious as his wrist rolled and he turned the blade between spinal column and snapped it in two.

Tension left the skeletal creature all at once as the spine was snapped in two at the chest cavity. It went limp and fell onto the soldier almost had he not been holding the neck at a stiff angle. It must have been weightless as the soldier pushed the half corpse to the side and spilled it onto the ground, the legs disheveling from his lap as he rolled along with it to his side. These creatures had proven a challenge even for the most seasoned veteran in their militia and armies. Whatever drove these creatures made them tenacious.

Strong muscle honed for battle under the God King's flag tensed and contracted as he pushed himself up into a sitting position then leaned forward to stand. Steam rushed from the spacing of his helmet filling the air before him with each heavy huff and gasp for breathe in his winded state. His eyes sat on the ground and watched the snow from the storm fall with each heavy raise and fall of his shoulders slow work in catching his breath.

Snow had piled around the intersection of cobble street and cut stone buildings, slowly the snow had begun to crawl against the sides of homes and shops long since vacated by their inhabitants, and as the fog and haze of frozen water fell in a thick flurry the subtle beauty of the snow caked streets was apparent. The harshness of the surroundings gave this cut and brutal place had a visage of its' own that was as synonymous as the hardy boys that had flooded from the mountain centuries ago to join the God King's armies.

Down the southern alley and among the night colored haze the groan and hiss of the undead echoed and muffled reached the soldier's ears. Even against the rumble and groan of the wind and storm that sound was distinct. From the darkness more undead shambled swinging long darkened bone arms as they approached the soldier and his steel gaze toward them.

The soldier was a man that had devoted his life to the art of war and taking a life. His every moment since he was a boy spent admiring the guards of the keep and idolizing even the most brutal injustice they would perform. It was blind loyalty to the cause, to his idols and to his king. He joined the military at a young age, fourteen, and spent his life in complete following the process of doing what he could to become one of them, now he was what he had envisioned and he was fighting legends and myths. It was a funny piece of fate in his mind that he had held to himself since the battle had begun.

It was a moment, perhaps spent with him smirking to himself under the helmet, before he pulled his sword to his side at the ready. A plain iron spine of metal and sharp edge. He watched the first of the undead as it approached and lowered his back to create a smooth even line from the bend of his knees in ready. But something caused the skin on the back of his neck to chill and his hairs to stand on end. A feeling at his ankle that as he spun to catch a glimpse and take a step back was gone in a horrifying quick clambering motion of two limbs and atop his shoulders.

Gripping the metal shoulder pad of the soldier the upper half of the corpse he had left gripped the front of his helmet and tore it free spilling out dark red hair and breaking his nose drenching the front of his lips and chin in thick globed crimson. The jerking motion by the gruesome half of a corpse enough to cause him to hurl himself back onto the ground and gasp as the wind was knocked from him.

The half skeleton began to work on the thrashing soldier's head then, flat human teeth gnashing and clacking on flesh as they became slick with copper and dark red liquid. It wasn't long before a scream of pain and fear filled the silence of the storm from the soldier as the skeletons descended on him.

"The more we lose the more that fiend gains in numbers..." A mounted soldier on a great deep chestnut beast grumbled to his squire as he watched wearily at a cluster of feeding corpses. "The longer we fight the more we become outnumbered." He turned his head down to the small boy that held the reigns of the horse and gazed horrified at the scene of the feast. "Boy!" He gave a quick curt reprimand to the boy to gather the jumpy child's attention. He gained it and then some from wide chocolate eyes. The boy had such a nice scent of straw and horse to him that it always seemed to calm the man atop the beast. "The more you watch the sicker you will become. We just have to wait on the outcome at the summit." He turned his head up then and craned it back toward the temple like building overlooking the town and atop a stair case ascending countless flights. He spoke under his breath then so to not be heard by the boy, "Wait and pray we make it through...."

Naoi

Date: 2014-11-01 04:04 EST
Royal blue and snow coated white cloth hung on the rugged and rounded logs of war structures flapping in the cold wind against the dark and slowly coating with a layer of white from the tip to the center. Cloth draped over ever piece of wooden structure flapped and made the dark and bare visuals of the base camp of soldiers flare with color against white and grey.

The base camp was littered with soldiers running this way and that way trying to prepare themselves for when they stormed the keep and rushed the Demon inside. Surely he was waiting. Surely he was ready. Surely he would kill them all. But they had been trained for situations they would return from, they had been taught that from the beginning they should expect to die and be willing. Some came with that naturally while others couldn't take the chance of death imposed on them and were swallowed whole by fear.

Lord Denald was the head of this expedition and crusade, an old grizzled man with a round stomach and rosy cheeks over a large full beard. His voice was deep and resounding with each deeply throated word he spoke to those under the tent preparing with him. The plans for their battle, how they would storm the throne room to read the rights of the king's rights being revoked and how they would hopefully repel the ever growing number of corpses pushing in on them.

Once the gathering had been completed, the time for action set, the lord sent his men off into the cold downpour of snow and stared with his eyes intent on nothing in particular out of the tent. "It takes us a day to reach this cursed keep..." He lightly stomped his foot then sending the rattle of chainmail about before turning and looking to the man still lingering in the tent with his mouth open for his heavy breath, "But it takes seven days to break defenses and pass one blasted door! The goddess! The weather itself turns on us Johae!" He had began to turn red as he continued on with his outburst, slobber and small droplets of spit spraying in his frustration onto the mahogany war table.

Johae, a man less than as fortunate as his dear friend Denald, stood from his lean and began toward his lord keeping his head angled down in respect. Dark chestnut hair was pulled from his face in a tail revealing the aged wrinkles on the face of the man and the thin trimmed beard he babied over any other thing on his body. He was likely at one time a man who had courted many women and was capable of any from caste ranging far and wide but in his old age he had begun to wither and dry as all men do at the time they lose their prime.

Johae came to a rest some six paces from his lord and began to rub his palm against the back of his hand in thought before looking up with a long silent moment of contemplation. Slowly he let his eyes sweep the dark wooden running board of the tent from one side to the other and deep emerald hues sat in tired lidded socket. "My lord, perhaps we shouldn't have charged in as soon as we arrived" In hind sight of course but wouldn't it have been better to have inspected our enemy before having fallen in their trap?" To many men that would have been something disrespectful and rude to have asked your lord, the master of your militant, but to Johae his lord was his friend first and foremost and his lord second.

The lord sighed and looked back out toward the massing soldiers as they fell into rank and line preparing for the assault. His mouth remained open and the scent of old and fermented wine left his mouth intertwining with the wind before it entered Johae's nostrils. The lord was a known drunk, and it seemed even this wouldn't stop his patronage of the fermented liquid.

"This isn't a situation we can look back on this time, my friend. We most strive forward and continue to strive to survive." He looked back and with a slight waddle turned his body to face his friend. the look he gave him was solemn and needed few words to express. The look was received and returned by the servant to his lord as they remained silent for a long moment.

Finally the lord broke the silence by pulling himself back and causing his upper half to rock forward slightly as he grabbed his goblet and turned it up. The fresh sting and bite of the alcohol was welcome and dragging the fine chain on his forearm over his mouth he sent Johae a grin behind the now violet smeared links. "Prepared yet?"

Johae grinned back and began to briskly chuckle. "As I can ever be my lord." With his answer the lord nodded a few times and tossed the icy gold cup to the side allowing the small remained to spill onto the snow as he pursed his lips and nodded repeatedly. "Shall we go then?" Johae asked with a raised brow.

The lord again nodded and stood to the side motioning outside the tent with his arm and lowering his head. It was time for it to begin.

Naoi

Date: 2014-11-01 04:04 EST
As the armies of the Godking prepared for battle outside the castle the innards of the castle were barren. The undead were concentrated outside holding off the hordes of soldiers and would be heroes flying the banner of a supreme king. The only sounds that resounded came from the throne room and the congregation of three individuals there.

Standing before the altar of the throne was an elderly man in deep royal blue robes that trailed behind him as he paced. A long dusty grey beard clung to jaw and met his balding head of mangy grey hair. His eyes were wild and filled with emotion similar to a captured animal with pursed pale blue lips on eggplant skin. His ears long and floppy like the wings of a crow were dotted in silver and gold studs that glimmered on his dark skin. This was the demon, a frail and aged man.

"They are early..." He muttered to himself as he gnawed his nails and paced faster, "They shouldn't have arrived for another two days....Did they cross the gap" They couldn't have, wyvern. Plentiful and hungry with young this time of year..." Holding a withered and smoke scented hand out he drug it slowly across the grey stone of the altar beside him, a young olive skinned elf with black hair laid on the altar with eyes lifeless and void angled to the ceiling as she was being eaten away into nothing by the ink black single edged sword jammed into her abdomen.

The king froze and jerked his right hand up in a lazy limp wrist motion as he barked out. "Da'suki, Naoi!" With the bark the robes jerked up on a branch thin frame ruffling the long and manged beard that reached his sternum, "Come to me children!" Madness was wrote in the way he spun to the direction of the staring children.

The two children couldn't have been much older than nine or perhaps ten, both elves, Neifer dark elves. In the corner of the throne room they stood compounded into one another and hunkered down like trapped wild animals staring wildly at the man, their king, and the woman upon the altar in quick jerking turns.

First of the two children was a young black haired elf with golden eyes and pale grey skin hidden under his red servants robes, the other younger than the boy before him and sheltering himself behind him as he pulled the shaggy dark sapphire hair he left messy down over his eyes. The two glanced between the familiar looking servant woman being eaten by the sword and the king in turns before the oldest glanced back to younger child and nodded shakily. "You stay behind me Dai. Don't move unless you have to....He has lost his mind....I don't want you to end up on the stone slab too ya?"

The younger boy stared for a moment as tears began to well in his eyes. "I don wanna die Nao....Please don't let me die, please!" His voice was shaking almost as hard as the shaking thunder that spread his body.

Naoi

Date: 2014-11-01 04:04 EST
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Naoi

Date: 2014-11-01 04:05 EST
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