While only 5 entries are being voted on, this one caught my attention just for the humor factor. While it did not make the top 5, it made me laugh so hard I just had to share it with all of you. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! -Nachyo
Sat atop his white charger, the mage surveyed the battle from the hilltop. A light drizzle of rain fell, but no drops settled on his four man strong party, as they were shielded by a dome of energy, its blue sheen barely perceptible in the early morning light.
The forces of Irum and their mercenary allies from Ellos were holding their own against his own forces. To his right the brown cloaked warriors of Ellos and their magnificent steeds were locked in a mounted, running battle with the fierce Marauders, and their Hell steeds. Their battle seemed a rolling moving mass of steel and flesh, covering several miles. The screams and cries of horse and men alike could be heard from where he sat.
The embodiment of good and evil, locked in mortal combat, or just a matter of differing perspectives? Mused the mage
In the centre of the plain, the foot battle had degenerated into a mass melee. All semblance of order had gone as the combatants hacked and slashed with various weapons. The soldiers of Irum were hard pressed by the fearless, and fanatical marauders on foot. Their grotesque faces were full of hate and spite.
Ugly brutes, but efficient
As he watched he noted two female warriors fighting Irum. They worked as unit, slightly apart from their allies, but they killed with lethal efficiency. One was deadly with a bow, and the other with two short swords.
“Who are they?” he asked his aides.
“They are the Rosecult sisters my Lord. By reputation they are skilled hunters, and as you can see, extremely capable fighters” answered the one-eyed, grizzled warrior Gondorian. He was a giant of a man, and he stood to one side with his hands resting upon a two-handed War sword.
“Yes indeed. I want them alive.” He instructed.
“As you command Lord” and he nodded to the rogue Demnchi.
Dressed all in black and with a face mask that covered all but his eyes, the rogue Demnchi inclined his head in acknowledgement, and then kicked his horse into action, heading directly towards the battle on the plains.
The party of now three watched him go.
“This should be interesting” stated the chronicler Nachyo, his expression one of wry amusement. His neat, robed appearance was in direct contrast to Gondorian’s battle-worn look.
Down the hill Demnchi drove his horse, gathering momentum and speed as he went, then as he approached the scrum in the middle of the plains, he loosened his feet from the stirrups, and still holding the reins, sprang up onto the saddle into a crouched position.
“Oh, this is new” said Nachyo, as he watched the agile rogue launch himself into the air. His horse meanwhile crashed into several combatants, marauder and Irum alike sending them sprawling to the ground.
Demnchi meanwhile withdrew his dual short swords, whilst tumbling in mid-air, and came down feet first on the back of a solider of Irum. The shocked soldier had no time to register what happened to him as he was propelled onto the curved blade of the marauder he was battling.
The rogue had landed no more than twenty feet away from the Rosecult sisters, and he never stopped moving. His swords snaked out to strike crippling blows to Irum soldiers who were unlucky enough to be in his path. They were dutifully dispatched by marauders grateful for the assistance.
His presence did not go unnoticed.
“Jasmine, we have incoming” said Lilly, her own twin blades were keeping at bay two marauders.
“I see him” replied the red-haired Jasmine and fired off an arrow at the black clad assassin as he sped towards her. She missed him, the arrow taking a marauder in the throat instead.
“He’s too fast!” she exclaimed, as he launched himself at her. The hilt of his left blade caught her on the temple, and she fell to the floor out cold.
“No!” shouted Lilly and launched a flurry of blows at her two opponents. They too had been distracted by the rogue’s assault and it cost them dearly, as a slash across the throat took one, whilst the other found a blade exiting his groin.
Lilly did not pause, and twirled just in time to deflect the masked man’s weapons. She was hard pressed though. He was just so skilled, his swords snaking out again and again, and he was always moving.
Their blade dance was mesmerizing to those that cared to watch. Two masters at work. Lilly realized though, too late that the masked devil had turned her around. A blow to the back of her skull and the blinding pain was the last sensation she felt that day.
“Take them to the master” said Demnchi, his voice almost a hiss. The Marauder that hit Lilly lifted her over his shoulder whilst one of his comrades gathered Jasmine. Demnchi all the while kept watch whilst the battle raged on. No further harm would befall his opponents until they were with his master.
Seeing that the rogue had succeeded, Gondorian looked to the mage, his face expressing an unspoken question.
“Yes, it is time. The Irum forces are ready to break. Take them down”.
The warrior smiled then, and with an almost bestial yell, Gondorian raised his War sword and screamed “Kill them all!
His cry was matched with the terrifying howl of five hundred Wulven from where they had waited in silence, in the leeward side of the hill. With unnatural speed, the wolf-men streamed up and over the crest, following the warrior Gondorian’s charge down onto the plain.
As Wulven joined marauder in unholy partnership, and the slaughter of Irum’s men began, the mage’s mind drifted back four years to the beginning of his journey.
*****
It had been cool day in the city of Da Lat, deep in the heart of central Vietnam. The city of thousands of pine trees was well named. The French-Swiss style architecture lent the city a shabby chic look. The market was a delight too. A multitude of stalls all clustered together displaying their various wares. Deeper he foraged for trinkets or mementoes of his visit, always on the lookout for a bargain.
His attention had been drawn to the wizened old face of a Vietnamese shopkeeper, who stood at the entrance to his ramshackle shop. Mojumbo’s Antiques said the sign above the door. The curious shop seemed to be as far back as it was possible to go – beyond the last of the stalls. There were no other shoppers around, but inquisitive, he strode forward.
The Vietnamese elder beckoned him in, with an obsequious bow. As he stepped over the threshold, his eyes took in a shop bursting with a treasure trove of antiques and curiosities. There was barely room to walk as chests, rugs, statues of all shapes and sizes presented themselves in the most chaotic fashion. The shop was also larger than his first perception.
“Seek and you will find” said an accented ancient voice, startling him. It was the shopkeeper.
“Er...thanks” he said
His search continued, in his quests for an object of interest, of which there was plenty, until finally a small wooden chest caught his eye. The chest itself was unremarkable, but it sat with its hinged lid open, revealing a strange gemstone.
Taking a closer look, but not touching, he noted that the gemstone was the size of a chicken egg. Its multifaceted sides showed no obvious blemishes at all. The peculiar thing though was that this gemstones colour seemed to change. Shades of black and grey swirled, giving the appearance of a storm cloud trapped in a glass prison.
“That is a Shadow Crystal” pronounced the shopkeeper from behind him.
So enthralled by this oddity he jumped in shock at the voice. “Jesus!” he exclaimed. “You scared the heck out of me”.
“Many apologies young master. I was remarking on the Shadow Crystal.
He gestured towards the gemstone. “Great power lies within, if you are willing to take it. Yes, look, the crystal swirls with magic. It is drawn to you”
He looked again
Magic? Power? Was the man mad? Yet what the heck am I seeing?
“Take it” said the keeper, his voice compelling, and his accent less evident.
And he did.
As his hand grasped the shadow crystal, his whole being seemed to implode, as the crystals power was unleashed. It raged through his body like tsunami of energy. He screamed, but no sound came out. The last thing he remembered was the voice of the shopkeeper.
“Seek and you will find”
He opened his eyes. Everything was white, though there was nothing there. There was no shop, no objects, no people, and no walls. Nothing.
Am I dead? He thought.
“No you are more alive than you can possibly imagine” stated the shopkeeper.
He wasn’t there, and now he was. He knew it was the shopkeeper, but he was young, athletic, and powerful. Not old and wizened.
“Who are you, where am I?
“You visited my shop. I am Mojumbo. That is all you need to know about me. As to where you are, well, you are between Worlds, and I brought you here so we may talk. Now, you will have many questions I’m sure, but hold them. Understanding will find you as I speak”
Mojumbo paced as he spoke. His voice was rich, powerful and compelling.
“You will discover that there are many shadow crystals, but few with the power of the one you held. The Darkstar crystal chose you. It revealed its power, and now it courses through your veins.
It was true, he clenched his fists. I feel…powerful
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