LucianDevine
Happily Owned/Collared
- Joined
- Dec 19, 2007
- Posts
- 3,775
War ravaged the land. Hardly anybody even knew what had started the war, and what was worse, nobody seemed to care. The dwarves were secluded up in their mountains, decidedly neutral, but as for humans and elves, it was a different story.
The war had started well over twenty years ago. Barely anything at all to an elf, but more than enough time for more than one glory seeking human to join upon coming of age and retire.
The lands to the west of the continent belonged to the elves, and the east belonged to the humans, that much was uncontested. As for the middle ground, the ground had been practically split asunder by all of the artillery and fire traps that had been used.
The battle lines of each were constantly fluctuating as each side tried to outwit the other and gain the upper hand that might turn, or possibly even end the war.
The elves were a proud and noble people, always had been, always would be. As such, they didn't tend to hire on too many mercenaries except in very crucial situations. The humans however, were all about mercenaries. They didn't ask any questions other than, "Do you wanna kill some elves?" It was only for that reason that the humans had started to push the elves back. It was a slow push, but it was steady none-the-less.
______________________________________________________________
Blood coated the huge battlefield. Human and elf alike lay dead and dying. The battle was over for the most part, except for one curious formation of elves. The humans had all but pulled back for the night, which is what made this particular batch stand out from the rest. The reason for this circle was of course a man.
Darion's eyes flitted back and forth from elf to elf. He knew how it had happened, and he'd tried to stop it, but his men had been too eager. The enemy had pulled back their center, a common ploy. Unfortunately, Darion had been leading a fairly young company, with only a few veterans, and the moment they saw the elves pulling back, they charged forward.
Darion wore a fine suit of chainmail. It had been made by the elves, but few humans would admit it. Over the chainmail he wore plates guarding his shins and calves, his thighs, his forearms, biceps, and of course a breastplate covering his chest and back. Curiously enough though, as many of the elves surrounding him commented quietly about, was the helmet. Despite the fact that his weapons and armor told the story of an agile warrior who would want to be able to see as much as he could, Darion wore a heavy helmet that covered his entire face, with only his eyes showing.
Darion's reason for this was quite valid, but he dared not tell any of the elves of it. He was posing as a mercenary, but he was in fact the prince of the king who led the human army. Even worse was that he was a half-breed bastard half-elf. His mother had been human, and she had been raped by an elvish warrior on a night raid, or so he had been told.
The king had of course been so ashamed of the incident, and the child that had ensued that he had his wife banished, especially after she failed to bear any more children after Darion. Worse for him yet, was that since Darion was in fact the only one to even slightly pose as an heir, the king had to keep him around until he remarried and hopefully had an heir of his own blood.
As such, Darion's past had been kept strictly secret, he'd been forbade to talk about it, and his social interactions had been horribly restricted. It was for those reasons that Darion had taken to the sword, or swords rather was the better term, for he bore two scimitars.
Darion had caught on quickly, and when he had heard that The Tempest was going to arrive to teach some of the king's best, of course Darion had been there. Even then, Darion had worn the helm, hiding his identity. Only six other men in addition to himself had passed The Tempest's tests and been allowed to learn from him. And learn he did, The Tempest was said to be the finest warrior on this continent or the next.
So there he was, Prince Darion, taught by The Tempest, with all the other six who had learned from him dead around him. Scattered around the bodies of Darion and the other six were no less than fifty elven warriors, and it was this that caused the hesitation among the elves. Many of them had bows pointed at the lone figured standing in the center, but it was hardly necessary. Blood flowed freely down his left leg, and that arm hung limp at his side. Darion's head was hung low, and he was breathing heavily. He was tired, exhausted, and ready to drop, yet some unknown force kept him up. Clenched in his other hand was one of his scimitars.
The elves surrounding him weren't quite sure what to do with him. Yes, it would be easy to kill him, but would the general want someone such as he dead or alive? One of the soldiers ran off in the direction of the generals tent, leaving the others back to guard the stranger.
When the messenger came upon the general's tent he was allowed inside. The man removed his helmet and bowed his head respectfully before the general. As fate would have it though, the general was not only that, but a queen as well, and one of the finest leaders and tacticians the elves had ever had or seen. "General, there is a..situation. We have a man we need you to check out." The elf knew he was taking a chance, but he hoped she was in a good mood from the victory.
The war had started well over twenty years ago. Barely anything at all to an elf, but more than enough time for more than one glory seeking human to join upon coming of age and retire.
The lands to the west of the continent belonged to the elves, and the east belonged to the humans, that much was uncontested. As for the middle ground, the ground had been practically split asunder by all of the artillery and fire traps that had been used.
The battle lines of each were constantly fluctuating as each side tried to outwit the other and gain the upper hand that might turn, or possibly even end the war.
The elves were a proud and noble people, always had been, always would be. As such, they didn't tend to hire on too many mercenaries except in very crucial situations. The humans however, were all about mercenaries. They didn't ask any questions other than, "Do you wanna kill some elves?" It was only for that reason that the humans had started to push the elves back. It was a slow push, but it was steady none-the-less.
______________________________________________________________
Blood coated the huge battlefield. Human and elf alike lay dead and dying. The battle was over for the most part, except for one curious formation of elves. The humans had all but pulled back for the night, which is what made this particular batch stand out from the rest. The reason for this circle was of course a man.
Darion's eyes flitted back and forth from elf to elf. He knew how it had happened, and he'd tried to stop it, but his men had been too eager. The enemy had pulled back their center, a common ploy. Unfortunately, Darion had been leading a fairly young company, with only a few veterans, and the moment they saw the elves pulling back, they charged forward.
Darion wore a fine suit of chainmail. It had been made by the elves, but few humans would admit it. Over the chainmail he wore plates guarding his shins and calves, his thighs, his forearms, biceps, and of course a breastplate covering his chest and back. Curiously enough though, as many of the elves surrounding him commented quietly about, was the helmet. Despite the fact that his weapons and armor told the story of an agile warrior who would want to be able to see as much as he could, Darion wore a heavy helmet that covered his entire face, with only his eyes showing.
Darion's reason for this was quite valid, but he dared not tell any of the elves of it. He was posing as a mercenary, but he was in fact the prince of the king who led the human army. Even worse was that he was a half-breed bastard half-elf. His mother had been human, and she had been raped by an elvish warrior on a night raid, or so he had been told.
The king had of course been so ashamed of the incident, and the child that had ensued that he had his wife banished, especially after she failed to bear any more children after Darion. Worse for him yet, was that since Darion was in fact the only one to even slightly pose as an heir, the king had to keep him around until he remarried and hopefully had an heir of his own blood.
As such, Darion's past had been kept strictly secret, he'd been forbade to talk about it, and his social interactions had been horribly restricted. It was for those reasons that Darion had taken to the sword, or swords rather was the better term, for he bore two scimitars.
Darion had caught on quickly, and when he had heard that The Tempest was going to arrive to teach some of the king's best, of course Darion had been there. Even then, Darion had worn the helm, hiding his identity. Only six other men in addition to himself had passed The Tempest's tests and been allowed to learn from him. And learn he did, The Tempest was said to be the finest warrior on this continent or the next.
So there he was, Prince Darion, taught by The Tempest, with all the other six who had learned from him dead around him. Scattered around the bodies of Darion and the other six were no less than fifty elven warriors, and it was this that caused the hesitation among the elves. Many of them had bows pointed at the lone figured standing in the center, but it was hardly necessary. Blood flowed freely down his left leg, and that arm hung limp at his side. Darion's head was hung low, and he was breathing heavily. He was tired, exhausted, and ready to drop, yet some unknown force kept him up. Clenched in his other hand was one of his scimitars.
The elves surrounding him weren't quite sure what to do with him. Yes, it would be easy to kill him, but would the general want someone such as he dead or alive? One of the soldiers ran off in the direction of the generals tent, leaving the others back to guard the stranger.
When the messenger came upon the general's tent he was allowed inside. The man removed his helmet and bowed his head respectfully before the general. As fate would have it though, the general was not only that, but a queen as well, and one of the finest leaders and tacticians the elves had ever had or seen. "General, there is a..situation. We have a man we need you to check out." The elf knew he was taking a chance, but he hoped she was in a good mood from the victory.