Legends of Valhalla: Chapter 3 - The Tomb of Migol II

[Akralon]

After spending some more time reading bios, official scenarios and perusing the map of Valhalla, I've decided to go back and build up to where "Darkness Surrounds" takes off from.

I'm not sure whether I'll go back and forth between the two or not, but I had a strong urge to give an account of some of the famed battles that resulted in certain champions having titles like "Heroes of Barrenspur", etc. Of course, it's only my version, but hopefully it'll arouse the input of others who imagined famed battles in their own way.

Without further delay, here's the start of the first. Hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 1 - Table of Giants
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Strong winds blasted across the open valley. To the south, large hills of stone jutted up to block the sun. To the north, the surface of a cold lake rippled, beyond which lay the broken ruins of an outpost lost to a race long since vanished.

The clear blue sky reflected brightly in Raelin’s concerned eyes. She planted the butt of her spear firmly in the earth. Her golden blonde hair whipped about her porcelain face. Her red lips tightened. “There is but one wellspring upon these fields. It lies just beyond those ruins.”

“We trekked over mountain and river for one wellspring?” Thorgrim grunted, stroking the braided ends of his beard. “Why?”

“This one is special,” the female kyrie answered. “The visions will enable us to locate certain wellsprings that cannot be found otherwise. They have remained hidden for centuries. No other general knows of its existence. No other, but Utgar.”

“Figures,” Sgt. Drake muttered. “The only other general with a real army – and the last general we want to have one.”

“Utgar must not be allowed to take this wellspring,” Raelin warned, her tone resonating with a gravity that echoed the power of her kyrie heritage. “It begins here.”

“We are ready for battle,” Finn boasted, “Let them come.”

“They will separate their attack between two distinct forces,” the kyrie instructed. “One will come from the east, upon the plain. The other, from the rocks to the south.” She eyed the Tarn Vikings. “Thorgrim and Finn, your Viking warriors will guard the lake’s edge. They must not be allowed to cross. Their blue-skinned warriors are known as “gruts” and fight with a savagery like crazed animals. Their weapons are crude but effective. Their attack will be relentless and without mercy.”

The largest of the Tarn, Ulf, smirked, gripping his jagged spear tightly. The Tarn could hold their own against savagery. Now that the great Jandar had given Thorgrim and Finn enchanted swords and shields, the monsters would be in for a grim surprise.

Finn raised his broadsword and examined it. A faint blue light radiated from the metal, illuminating his square face. “They have not seen savagery yet.”

“They are led by one called Grimnak,” Raelin continued. “He rides atop a terrible reptile. The creature should not be engaged by any but the stoutest of warriors.”

“I’ll kill him,” Finn smirked.

“No,” Raelin’s voice was stern once again. “I will deal with Grimnak. There is another. Tornak is vile as he is treacherous, and though his reptilian steed is smaller, it is no less menacing – for it moves with the speed and grace of a viper. It will be Tornak who seeks to find the wellspring for Utgar. Your charge is to stop him.”

“The wellspring is a sight his eyes will never see,” Thorgrim swore.

“Unless his head rolls far enough from his shoulders,” Jarl laughed, slinging his shield over his shoulder. He dug the tip of his blade into the dirt at his feet.

“Tonight we'll feast on roasted reptile,” Ulf boasted.

“You can be the first to taste it,” Brandt shook his head. “If you live after the first bite, then the rest of us will try.”

“I will rend the beast’s skull from the sheath of its flesh and use it for a bowl,” Bjorn raised his sword. The other Vikings burst into laughter. The large wings extending from Bjorn's helm caused it to sit crooked on his head. "The earth will shake with the tremors of their screams. I swear it!!" More laughter.

“Is he for real?” Ramirez looked to Drake with wide eyes. The sergeant just stared blankly.

“Sergeant Drake Alexander,” Raelin turned her gaze to the camouflaged soldiers, “You and your men will position yourselves in the clefts of the rock. Remain hidden until Utgar’s forces reveal themselves. You may find their appearance disturbing, but do not be alarmed. They fall easily enough. They will have ranged weaponry, somewhat like your own, albeit... organic.”

“Organic?” Ramirez questioned. “What kinda freaks-”

“Enough,” Drake snapped. “Anything else we should know?”

“Yes,” Raelin’s deep blue eyes hardened. “Their leader is a warlord by the name of Ne-Gok-Sa. He possesses a dark power. Do NOT underestimate him. If you engage him in combat, beware – he may try and seize your mind. If he succeeds, you will be forever lost to us.”

“What the f-“ Johnson started.

“Easy, Johnson,” Drake interrupted. “Don’t engage him. It's that simple. That’s what grenades are for. Saddle up, boys.” He waved an arm to the Airborne. “Move out.”

“There is one other thing.” The kyrie’s voice was sharp.

Drake stopped, motioning for the others to continue on. He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Do not let them near the water.”

[Akralon]

…

As the wind continued to whip across the grasslands of Upper Bleakwoode, Thorgrim stood silently, his storm-scarred eyes resting steadily on the eastern horizon. His leather gloved fingers drummed patiently on his swordbelt.

The sky had since darkened, and thunder clouds loomed brooding overhead, casting a shadow over the waiting Tarn.

Brandt hoisted his massive two-handed sword over his shoulder and came up beside the quiet Tarn leader. “I have seen that face, Thorgrim.” His golden hair blasted wildly about in the raging wind. “You wore it in Korland. I was a boy, but I remember it well.”

Thorgrim grimaced. “The moment I saw the wretched dreadguls emerge from our forest, I knew Ulrick was mad. Their presence fouled our homeland beyond reckoning. I pity those left behind.” He exhaled. “The same weight sits in my stomach now.”

“Feel that, brothers?” Finn gave a wide grin. “The earth trembles with Utgar’s approach. Soon it will bathe in their blood.”

“Do not be so eager, young brother,” Thorgrim grumbled. “Not to fight a creature we’ve never seen. We know only what the kyrie told us.”

“So, they fight like wild animals,” Finn concluded, “No worse than the Dreadguls, I’d wager. Save now I wield the Sword of Guether.” He eyed his brother thoughtfully. “I did not fear Ulrick’s unholy creatures before and I do not fear these monsters now.”

“There, upon the horizon,” Ulf pointed his long barbed spear to the line appearing on the edge of the grasslands. “We’ll not be short of enemies this day. Let us hope our scrawny green-clothed comrades can do the same in the rocks.”

…

“This is insane,” Burnell complained. “Since when is taking the LOW ground to our advantage?”

“Since we want to keep the element of surprise,” Drake countered. “As long as they don’t know we’re down here, we can watch ‘em long enough to figure out a way to take ‘em all down.”

“I got your easy way right here,” Hauser grinned, a grenade in each hand.

“Put those away,” Drake ordered. “If they group together, we’ll frag the hilltops and bring the whole mess down. If they scatter, we’ll have to spread out and pick ‘em off one at a time.” His steel blue eyes scanned the rocky ridge above. “Hauser, you’re my radioman. Ramirez, Johnson, Delgado – fan out and take up position near that crumbled boulder. Burnell, Meyers, Castillo – that rockslide - dig in deep.”

Meyers adjusted his thick glasses, his eyes appearing giant behind them. “Sarge, I think someone should scout the ridge.”

“Too dangerous,” Drake shook his head. “If he’s spotted we’ve lost our cover.”

“Not necessarily,” Meyers argued. “If can get close enough to the top, I can use my mirror to see over the ridge without actually climbing up there myself. At least then we’ll know which way they’re coming from. That and the rest of you will still be hiding.”

“Y’all go on,” Johnson called, “This here boy gets himself shot, we’ll have ourselves plenty reason to unleash the fury.”

“C’mon,” Delgado tugged at the large soldier’s arm. “Let’s get outta this wind or I’m gonna be a corpse before the fight starts.”

“Alright, Meyers,” Drake consented, “Take it slow. You turn the wrong angle with that thing and you’ll end up flashing them and signaling our location.”

A wide smile spread across Meyers’ narrow face, “This is what I do!”

As the skinny soldier scrambled up the rockside, a tremendous roar broke the windy silence.

[Deathclaw767]

As good as ever, Akralon! Keep the quallity coming!

[Akralon]

The earth shook with each massive stomp of the great tyrannosaurus’s clawed feet. Its scaled tail swung back and forth as it lumbered forward. Yellow reptilian eyes glared menacingly at the band of men, armored in metals and furs, guarding the edge of the lake.

Upon the beast’s back, Grimnak raised his crude spear high, inciting a series of snarls and shouts from the surrounding gruts. The dim light darkened the shade of their bluish skin. The blade gruts grunted and snorted, clanging blades together in anticipation of the order that would set them loose to wreak havoc.

To the other side, arrow gruts yipped and yelped, shaking their bows. Swog riders darted about amidst the sea of moving archers, their furry feline steeds snapping at stray gruts wandering too far from ranks.

“Tornak!” the grut warlord snarled. “Ready the blade gruts!”

“They are ready now,” The raptor riding grut grinned, patting the scaly dinosaur. “Easy, Talon. Soon you will drink man-blood.”

Grimnak eyed the band of Viking warriors barring their path with little interest. “Tear them apart," he spoke casually. "Leave none alive.”

“What of the wellspring?” Tornak questioned, reining his raptor up beside the tyrannosaurus, tromping at a quick pace to keep up.

“The blade gruts will handle the humans." Grimnak's crimson eyes locked onto the broken ruins. "Search the ruins. Find the wellspring!”

...

Drake squinted, watching Meyers clumsily clamber toward the ridge, hand mirror clutched firmly to his chest.

“This ain’t a good idea,” Hauser grumbled. “I gotta bad feelin’.”

“Hand me the binoculars,” Drake waved his hand. “And stay on the horn.” He looked to the north, where Burnell and Castillo were tucked in behind out-juttings in the rock face. “There’s a lot of dust near the lake. How’re our horned-headed brothers-in-arms doing?”

“It’s a bloody mess,” Castillo muttered over the radio. “All I see is blue. And a… dinosaur.”

“Is that a T-rex?” Burnell’s voice cut in. “Somebody slap me.”

“Knock it off,” Drake ordered, “Keep Meyers covered. If these freaks are gonna show, they’ll most likely be taking position there.” He nodded toward the small cliff protruding from the northern end of the ridge. “Keep your eyes open.”

“In position,” Meyers whispered into the radio. “Standing by for go ahead.”

Drake readied his assault rifle, squaring it against his shoulder and taking aim just above Meyers. “All set. Go ahead.”

“Roger that.”

“Sights are HOT! Sights are HOT!” Castillo cried out. “Wait!”

Too late. An unearthly and hollow sounding blast shook the rocks and stones, followed by a shrill scream. The airborne watched in helplessness as Meyers fell from above, landing on his back over a broken rock with a dull crunch. The cracked hand-mirror fell from his open hand.

Before Drake could give an order, gunfire exploded all around him. The frenzied soldiers peppered the ridge with a spray of bullets.

Cursing their luck, the sergeant took advantage of the outburst to scramble across the hillside to the fallen Meyers. He ducked under the rock and then gasped and wretched as a sickeningly sweet smell filled his nostrils. To his horror, the dead soldier’s face and chest were eaten way. Acidic spores sizzled against Meyers’ exposed ribs.

Adjusting his cover, the sergeant looked up to see the first of their attackers. The creature looked like a man – save it was devoid of flesh. A putrid mix of muscle and organs pulsated and writhed, stretched over elongated bones. It held in its sinewy hands what looked like a rifle or cannon – but the weapon was covered in some kind of mold or fungus. Pulsating green spheres shot forward from the weapon and struck the earth, leaving steaming holes drenched in bright green ooze.

"Yeah," Drake acknowledged Hauser. "This ain't good."

[Deathclaw767]

Sizzly.... Nice interpretation of their effectiveness. At the risk of sounding repetitive, this is as good as ever. Keep up the quallity of your work!

[Akralon]

Grimnak shouted with glee as the great tyrannosaurus snapped down over a hapless Viking, then wrenched its head to the side, sending the human’s lower half spiraling away through the air, sprinkling those below with warm blood.

Just then a flash of silver caught his eyes as the armored wings of the female kyrie stretched out and she leapt into the air. The sun glinted off her spear as she arched her back and poised to dive.

“Come, wench!” Grimnak motioned.

Raelin frowned, zipping down toward the reptile-rider. She spun her spear in circles as she flew in for the strike. The grut warlord thrust his own crude weapon outward, but the kyrie used the momentum from her spinning spear to deflect his jab and the butt came around to blast him in the side of the helm.

Grimnak dropped the spear and frantically clutched the reins to keep from sliding out of his saddle. “Your flesh will be a sweet dessert!” he snarled. “You are nothing more than a mid-battle snack!”

“Foolish grut,” Raelin returned, readying herself for another dive, “I have bested enemies of far greater strength and skill than the likes of you. If this is the best Utgar has to offer, than perhaps we overdid our defenses.”

“I will rip the pretty hair from your head and clean my pet’s teeth with it!” Grimnak growled.

Raelin’s cold blue eyes were resolute. “One day your pet will eat you.”

Grimnak slammed his razor-edged heels into the dinosaur’s hide. The tyrannosaurus reared its head and chomped at the kyrie, who deftly darted aside, returning the attack with a quick jab of her spear.

Roaring at the provoking stab, Grimnak’s mount stomped aside and lashed out its tail. This time the kyrie was not fast enough. The thick tail swatted her from the sky.

Raelin hurtled downward and crashed into an array of arrow gruts. Before the stunned grut archers could recover, she spun her spear round and its twirling knife-edge sliced and slashed, opening throats and loosing heads. When the slain gruts had fallen, she had cleared an opening large enough for her to take flight once more, and with a great leap, soared back up into the stormy winds.

…

Lightning split the sky with a brilliant flash and thunder cracked like a breaking mountain, rumbling the earth below. Rain fell like a curtain of water, drenching the battling enemies in seconds.

“Watch that one!” Thorgrim slammed his tall shield into a grut, which stumbled clumsily backwards and caught Thorgrim’s blade in the neck. “He looks for passage across the waters!”

“Clear a path!” Finn ordered. “I’ll have his skull before he reaches the ruins!”

Ulf and Brandt stepped forward and as they neared Finn, the Viking leader’s blade flared to life once again, bathing them in blue light.

“Lookee,” snarled a large grut wielding two crude butcher blades. “What pretty clothes you wear.” He scraped the dark swords together, the sparks lighting up his grim face, which was smeared with blood-red war paint.

“I’ve something pretty for you,” Thorgrim grumbled, thrusting his sword forward.

The blade grut crossed his swords, parrying and forcing the Viking’s weapon upward, and then shoved his blue-toed foot into the human’s gut.

Thorgrim staggered backwards, put his shoulder to his shield and charged forward.

Near the water’s edge, the raptor sprinted lightly across the muddy shore, while its rider swept the ruins for signs of the wellspring. Tornak's green eyes widened with pleasure when he saw, emanating from behind a broken wall, a soft white light.

[Deathclaw767]

Good old Tornak....
Hey. Am I the only one reading these, or are you other guys too lazy to compliment a master on his wonderful work? :x

[arp12]

Good old Tornak....
Hey. Am I the only one reading these, or are you other guys too lazy to compliment a master on his wonderful work? :x
No, I'm reading it too and it's great :thumbsup: .

[Silver1327]

Good old Tornak....
Hey. Am I the only one reading these, or are you other guys too lazy to compliment a master on his wonderful work? :x

I like it and hope he does more.

[Akralon]

“Delgado’s hit!” Johnson yelled. “I can’t get a shot off! They got the entire ridge covered!”

The surrounding rocks hissed with bursts of steam as the green acid blasts pelted the sloped land from above.

“Stay down!” Drake ordered. “Frags out!” He looked to Hauser, who was grinning widely, ecstatic at finally being able to blow something up.

“On three!” the sergeant shouted. “Pins!” The soldiers popped their pins.

“One! Two!” They turned, readying to throw. “Three!”


Finn sprinted forward, using his momentum to bash battling blade gruts aside as he charged after the reptile rider. “Come, Ormr rider!” he called, chopping an ill-prepared orc out his way. “Feast on Guthbrandr!”

A series of explosions echoed across the valley. The battling Tarn and gruts glanced anxiously to the southern ridge, where blasts thundered like a new storm.

Tornak, recovering quickly, sneered at the Viking champion with little interest. “Clumsy human,” he uttered, “Play with someone else!” He waved his spear and a small mob of blade gruts roared and charged past him. “Bring me his sword!”

Finn lifted his shield and slammed into the first grut, shoving it sprawling backwards into those behind it. A handful of orcs toppled over each other, slowing the others in the back down and preventing them from immediately reaching the Viking.

Finn smiled grimly as the trampled the fallen and hurtled into the next rank.

When the Viking disappeared amidst the blade gruts, Tornak turned his raptor and darted off down the lake’s edge. A tall pillar of granite rose up on his side, the top broken centuries ago. “This will do,” he muttered to himself. He looked to the battle. The Vikings were stubborn creatures, fighting with foolish bravery against overwhelming odds. But could keep Grimnak from advancing, save the female kyrie, of whom Tornak could not see.

Putting a small horn to his blue lips, Tornak gave a stout blow. A short distance away, Grimnak turned in his saddle. The raptor rider was calling him, waving him toward the lake. Grimnak grimaced, yanking the reins and scanning the lake. Then he saw what the other rider had wanted. A great granite pillar, easily tall enough to bridge the gap between shore and island, slanted upward.

The mighty tyrannosaurus lumbered forward. Before the Vikings could react, the reptilian giant swung its tail out and slammed into the pillar. They watched in horror as the granite cracked.

“He’s trying to bridge the lake!” Thorgrim screamed. “Tarn! Angrep! Drep dyr!”


“I can’t stop the bleeding,” Johnson cried, clutching gauze to his comrade’s thigh. “Delgado’s the friggin medic, not me!”

“Keep pressure on it,” Castillo ordered, hovering worriedly over Delgado, occasionally slapping the drowsy soldier in the face, “Stay with us, buddy.”

Drake grimaced. Staying here was only prolonging defeat. They had to take initiative. He exhaled, examining the foreign blade harnessed to his belt. It was a gift – from the archkyrie Jandar himself. A sort of offering – in exchange for service to Jandar’s army. Raelin had told him the sword was forged by the great warrior Thorian, who was said to possess legendary abilities. The blade channeled one such power, a power said to obscure one’s image to hostile eyes… though he had never actually put it to the test.

He sighed, “Now’s as a good a time as any.” He looked to Hauser. “Stay on the radio. I’m gonna bring the fight to them.”

“Are you crazy?” Hauser’s eyes were wide, “You’ll get slaughtered before you make it ten steps.”

“Maybe,” Drake muttered, “But we stay down here any longer and we’ll be slaughtered anyway. We’re pinned down and they don’t seem to be running outta ammo.”

Castillo looked up, watching the sergeant draw his katana from its sheath. “Take those sons-a-b****es out, Sarge.” He touched the silver cross hanging from his dogtag chain. “Angels watch your back!”

Drake gave a curt nod, clapped them on the shoulders, then lowered his cover, tightened his jaw and jumped out from under the rock overhang.

[Billtog]

It's about time that Drake got serious. :)

[hi1hi1hi1hi1]

Amazing work like usual. I'm glad this time I get to read it from the start. :D I know you sttated, in your other thread, that you are very interested in which parts readers thought to be the best and worst. So I think the thing that most sticks out in my mind is your portrayal of Meyers after he is hit with a plasma bullet.The desription of his flesh being eaten away and his bare ribs is just so vivid. Excellent job!

One question though, is Finn speaking Norwiegen (sp?) in the last episode in italics? :)

My only dissappointment was that the destription of the grenade explosions was cut out. :( Still very good though. :thumbsup:

[Metaknight]

Very good! You used so much character description, like it could be made into a real book!

[Akralon]

Thank you, both.

To answer your question, yes, I used Norwegian. I like the idea of having different characters subconsciously revert to their native tongue, as if whatever Valhallan language they all speak doesn't always provide the right words for what they want to express.

I try to limit the times when characters switch languages to when they're either emotionally charged, or simply slip out of habit (ie - common sayings).

As far as the grenade explosions, I apologize for skimping the telling of this first one, but I do plan to use grenades in the future and want to avoid being redundant. There are better explosions to come.

Again, thank you for your feedback and I'm glad you enjoyed the character descrips.

[Akralon]

A loud crack and a dull splash caught the female kyrie’s attention just in time to see Tornak bounding lightly across the newly fallen column. She readied to pursue, but a vision of the soldiers suffering intensely flashed across the expanse of her mind. Without hesitating, she reacted.

Bowing low, bending her knees and outstretching her armored wings, Raelin leapt into the air, spiraled and shot forward like a gleaming silver arrow.

Thinking the kyrie was fleeing, the gruts shouted in crazed triumph.

“Accursed gruts!” Finn shouted, bashing away furiously at his attackers, trying desperately to shove his way through to give chase to the escaping Tornak.

Ulf jammed his barbed spear through a blade grut’s unprotected abdomen. The orc croaked loudly as the large Viking hoisted him up into the air and swung him aside, sending the dead grut crashing into its counterparts.

Then, unhitching a throwing ax, Ulf grunted as he flung the weapon with all his might. The spinning axe hurtled upward and came down hard. The dull end struck the raptor’s hind leg with enough force to buckle it.

Tornak grabbed the reins fearfully as the dinosaur lurched sideways into the dark waters.

“Agh haha!” Finn roared, finally pushing through the gruts and clumsily scrambling over the rain-soaked granite. Several blade gruts attempted to give pursuit but quickly slipped and slid off, splashing into the lake.


The airborne watched in shock and disbelief as their sergeant raced up the rocky slope, nimbly darting from side to side, easily dodging the acid fire of the entire squadron of marro upon the ridge.

Drake grinned devilishly as he drew close enough to see the alien faces, which were too distorted to show any sign of emotion, but he didn’t need to see it. He could smell it – fear.

With his other arm, still sprinting, he pointed to the overhang and fired his grapplegun. The claw zipped forward and dug into to the rock. He flicked the switch and leapt, flying upward as the line reeled in.

Using his momentum, he swung himself up onto the ledge, throwing out his leg. His combat boot struck one alien square in its exposed ribcage, crunching the bone and throwing it backward.

Before the marro knew what had happened, Drake was hacking and slicing away. He knew little of swordplay, other than the few lessons Thorgrim and Finn had given him, but it didn’t matter, the marro had no armor. He could hear the shouts of praise from the soldiers down below as they watched him wreak havoc on the marro warriors.

“Induruk keemok!” came a hollow, otherworldly voice. Drake turned in time to see a long talon-like blade sweep down, tearing across his chest and cutting off his canteen strap and sword harness.

The sergeant fell back, dropping the grapplegun and clutching his bloody gash. He looked up at his assailant, another marro. This one was different, though. It stood a head taller than the others. Strange metal was grafted into its sinewy body, thick plates armoring one arm, and a long curved blade stretching out from the other.

Lifting the talon-blade at the soldier, the marro warlord’s hollow eyes narrowed. “Kiyug bok!” It stepped forward. “You cannot win, pink-skin. Join Utgar and I will spare your life.”

Drake got to his feet quickly, holding the katana with two hands now. “You must be Ne-Gok-Sa. They told me you were ugly. They didn’t tell me you were stupid, too.”

“Fool,” Ne-Gok-Sa snarled, “You’ve chosen your fate. Now face it!” He leapt forward, the talon-blade clashing against the Thorian katana with such force that an ear-rattling clang reverberated down the rocky slopes.


Down below, the airborne were huddled around the unmoving Delgado, the sounds from the battle above echoing down the stone covered hill. Clong! Castillo sighed. “Status?”

Clang! Johnson exhaled wearily. “He’s unconscious, but stable. We gotta get Delgado outta here soon.” Cling! Drang!

“We gotta help Sarge,” Hauser put in. Ding! “I know he was kickin’ butt before, but now he ain’t doin’ so good.” Brang!


Drake battled furiously, but the marro warlord parried and deflected every swing with relative ease, having far more experience in close combat. The sergeant couldn’t penetrate his opponent’s defenses; the warlord seemed to know his every move. Their blades clashed again and locked; each put his weight into the weapon.

Ne-Gok-Sa slid his blade along the katana and pierced the soldier’s right shoulder. Drake growled, stepping back. The warlord maliciously stepped forward, driving it in further, then twisting his body, he turned and wrenched it free.

Drake cried out as the talon tore out of his shoulder, the force yanking him aside. He lost his footing and tripped, crashing to the ground. The momentum of the fall caused his legs to swing over the edge and he helplessly rolled off the out-jutting, barely catching hold with both hands. The pain in his shoulder intensified agonizingly.

Ne-Gok-Sa’s face contorted to what could’ve been considered glee as he hovered menacingly above the dangling soldier. He kicked the Thorian katana and the blade skid across the stone and went soaring down to the rocks below.

[Sapper]

Again, great stuff Akralon. I like these "prequals" mainly because Grimnak is back. I really love your descriptions of him. I was kind of disappointed when he was killed in your other stories.

I don't know what it is but I really like the vision of this line.

“Lookee,” snarled a large grut wielding two crude butcher blades. “What pretty clothes you wear.” He scraped the dark swords together, the sparks lighting up his grim face, which was smeared with blood-red war paint.


I also like it when the characters revert back to their native language in tense situations. I know what that is like. I stopped swearing a few years ago but when I get angry or stressed an occasional bad word does slip out.

Keep the stories coming.

[Akralon]

Thanks for the feedback, I appreciate it.

You may be pleased to know that it was Tornak who was killed in the future. Grimnak is still alive and chomping.

This last little bit is the conclusion to this first tale. I meant to include it in the last post, but it got a little long, and I liked leaving on a cliffhanger (literally). At any rate, here it is.

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“I gave you a chance,” the marro warlord spat. “Now you die.” With one bony foot, the Ne-Gok-Sa stomped on the soldier’s right hand, crunching down and holding it firmly in place. Drake shouted in pain. Then, leveling the curved talon at the sergeant’s neck, the warlord thrust.

Drake let go with his other hand and swatted the jabbing talon-blade in time to deflect it painfully to his left shoulder, where it plunged in deep, after cutting his hand.

As Ne-Gok-Sa tore his talon-blade out to jab again, gleefully enjoying it, he caught glimpse of a silver blur – just in time to have a spear tear through his own body, just below the collarbone.

Raelin released the spear as the marro warlord fell back, turned and dove after the falling soldier.

Swooping down gracefully, she swept him up with both arms and carried him back to the others. Landing shakily, she hoisted the dizzy sergeant to his men and bound back up into the air, flying upward to the cliff.


Finn leapt from the granite pillar just as he saw Tornak emerging from the water. He collided with the orc and forcefully jarred him from the saddle. The raptor, frenzied to escape the icy water, sprang back up onto dry land.

Gripping the orc’s throat with his shield arm, the Viking struggled to hold the thrashing grut below water. “Have a drink, monster,” he taunted through clenched teeth.

“Finn!” Thorgrim called, “Forget the rider! Look!”

The younger of the brothers, twisted to see. Shock hit him like a mace. Three blade gruts had made it across the lake and scampered into the ruins.

Swearing and cursing with fury, Finn sprawled out of the water and raced up the island. He had not got far when a great and brilliant flash of light stunned him, stopping him in his tracks.

The earth groaned, as if in pain. The rumbling was followed by a chorus of grut cheering.

Thorgrim paled. “We have lost…”

[Akralon]

That concludes Chapter 1. I'd like to wait for at least one comment, if not more, before I start posting Chapter 2, just to break up the chapters and make following the story a little easier.

I've finished an outline running through 7 chapters. I've also written half of Chapter 2 "The Forsaken Waters", already.

My goal is to follow the expansion of the valkyrie generals in Valhalla, while riddling the writing with scenes purely for plot/character development. So I apologize in advance to all you action-hungry readers, but I feel it's necessary to strengthen the characters in order to make the battles that much more intense.

Oh, in this rendition of Valhalla storytelling, when a character dies, barring special circumstances, they are dead - for good.

[ares834]

Wow these are as great as you darkness surrounds. Keep up the great work.

[hi1hi1hi1hi1]

Does the intorduction to Table of Giants play into the story at all? It just seems to all end very abruptly. Still it was a wonderfully written piece and I can't wait to read more! :D

[Akralon]

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Chapter 2 - The Forsaken Waters
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In the southwestern corner of Nastralund, Castle Idona rose up amidst the jagged, frost-covered mountains, overlooking the bordering lands.

Inside one of the many chambers, warmed by a brightly crackling hearth, the airborne elite sat around an oak table, engaged in a friendly game of poker.

“Gimme two,” Castillo muttered. He sighed, receiving his cards. “Sarge’s been out for awhile now, all quiet and distant. I think that alien really got to him.”

“He almost killed him,” Delgado put in, rearranging his hand. “I know what that’s like.”

“I wish I knew what he was thinking,” Hauser folded, tossing his cards to the table. “It’s not like him to be like this.” The soldier stared at the table. “We need him.”

“Stop, I’m gettin’ all teary eyed,” Castillo teased with a chuckle.

“Shut up,” Hauser groaned.

“No, he’s right,” Burnell added. “He’s the only one that made sense of this place... made us feel like we were here for a reason…”


Atop the great wall of the West Barbican, Sgt. Drake Alexander stood alone, staring off into the hazy distance. A gentle snow began to fall, the flurries clouding the air as they drifted slowly downward.

“How are your shoulders,” came a soft feminine voice.

Without turning, the sergeant answered, “They’re fine, thanks to you, Kelda.”

The female kyrie moved to stand beside him. Her pale skin held a bluish hue, giving her a serene beauty. Long braided hair, white as snow, cascaded down her slender shoulders. Her wings, armored in silver like Raelin’s, were tucked neatly behind her. She wore leathers, dyed violet, and lined with silver strips of armor, allowing her ease of movement while still providing adequate protection. She followed his gaze through the falling snow to the mountains beyond. “Do not worry about Raelin and the Vikings, Sergeant Alexander. They are aided by a new ally – a unit of sentient machines wielding guns that are far superior in their design to your own. They will succeed in reaching the Forsaken Waters.”

Drake’s jaw tightened. “I should be with them, Kelda. Not sitting here, guarding an impenetrable castle that is in no danger of being attacked.”

The kyrie turned to look on him, her soft silvery eyes full of compassion. Her pink lips parted in a half smile. “Your body is healed, but your spirit is not.”

“I don’t understand,” he said impatiently. “What does that mean?”

Kelda returned her gaze to the mountains. “You are too eager to face Ne-Gok-Sa again. He is a warlord who has been slaughtering his enemies for three of your lifetimes. Your men were wise to have remained at a distance, and you are fortunate to be alive.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” he uttered bitterly. He shook his head. “It’s my fault. The Vikings tried to teach me, but their swords are large and clumsy. I should have practiced more.” He sighed. “Still, I’ve been training for weeks. I want to face that marro again.” He paused, as if something was becoming clear to him. “I need to face him.”

“You will,” Kelda assured. She let only the stirring of the wind whisper in her ears for long moments, then, deciding to take her leave, she lifted her spear and strode away. She stopped a short distance down the wall, calling back, “I can heal only physical wounds. You must right your mind. Only then will you be able to defeat him.”

[Akralon]

“It is not like I remember,” Raelin whispered in awe. Stretching out before her, the land was blanketed in thick fog – so dense she could barely see the tip of her spear. “The air is colder.”

“In this wretched fog our enemies could attack without warning,” Thorgrim muttered warily. “I do not like it.”

“Worry not, brother,” Finn clapped his shoulder. “Utgar’s forces must brave the mist, too. We are as likely to surprise them as they us.”

“Stay close, lads,” Ulf warned with a grim smile. “Stray too far and the dreadguls’ll take you and eat your guts.”

Brandt leaned his broadsword against his shoulder, looking about cautiously. Jarl kept his woodland shield taught against his side. Bjorn adjusted his crooked winged-helm and drew out his chest.

A few steps back, Olaf and Lars huddled close, not quite comfortable with the tall silent robots walking behind them.

“Do not look at them,” Olaf warned, “They are not levende.”

“They are,” Lars returned. “They walk. They fight. And,” he eyed the robots fearfully, “They listen.”

“There is no rational reason for fear, human,” one of the robots spoke, causing both Vikings to jump and then redden with embarrassment. “It was a species very similar to your own that created us – gave us life – 1,483 years ago. We have since undergone 625 significant upgrades. I am SRX210. Our technology and tools will increase your efficiency against the forces of Utgar.”

The robot’s voice hummed with a crystalline smoothness. Though the tone seemed calm and devoid of emotion, there was a gentle tinge to it. “The first day we were warped to this planet by the General Jandar, we were given information detailing the inhabitation of soulborgs employed by Utgar. We immediately calculated the possible enemies on Alpha Prime that would take directives from a self-centered and immoral leader. We estimated the most likely soulborgs, but to our relief, we estimated wrong.”

“What’re you saying?” Lars asked, afraid not to respond. “Our enemies are not strong?”

“Do underestimate them,” the Omnicron responded. “Deathwalker armor is constructed of enhanced carbon-lead alloy, heat-strengthened and nearly impenetrable to your primitive weaponry. The armament of the zettian guards is only slightly less effective. Our calculated percentage that their firepower will result in your termination is approximately 63.33%. Proceed with extreme caution.”

“But, you said you were relieved,” Olaf gulped, curiosity getting the best of him.

“That is correct.”

…

Across the murky surface of the lakes known as the Forsaken Waters, battalions of gruts, blue-skinned orcs, moved cautiously forward. Their dull black eyes gave them great disadvantage in the thick fog. Amidst their blade and bow carrying ranks, Tornak sat frowning on his raptor. Though he would never admit it, he felt vulnerable without Grimnak. It was far easier for him to sneak by and reach his destination with the large tyrannosaurus stomping around eating up the enemy, keeping their attention off of him.

The only thing visible was the deep red glow of the scanning visors from the black soulborgs behind them. Several zettian, large bulky machines standing a tad taller than the orcs, clustered behind them. Rising up in the back, towering over the zettians, was DW9000. Its massive bulk clicked and ground as it moved. Each heavy foot stomping solidly in to the earth as it stepped forward.

“Lord Utgar said the wellspring lies at the bottom of one of these lakes,” Tornak snapped. “Stay out of the water. Our orders are to kill Jandar’s forces and keep the lakes protected.” Afterward, he would send a messenger back to tell Lord Utgar they had conquered, and to bring the deep-water devices. But the gruts had heard all they needed to.

[hi1hi1hi1hi1]

Wow great job! I absolutely love this part:

Our calculated percentage that their firepower will result in your termination is approximately 63.33%. Proceed with extreme caution.”

“But, you said you were relieved,” Olaf gulped, curiosity getting the best of him.

“That is correct.” I can see the picture now, haha, great description.

[Sapper]

You may be pleased to know that it was Tornak who was killed in the future. Grimnak is still alive and chomping.


Oops! I knew one of the dinosaur riding orcs died. Guess I was wrong.

Anyway, enough of this useless talk. :wink:

Great work.

[Akralon]

“Tell me again what this is all about,” Drake persisted, following Kelda down a long and tall hallway, lined with marble pillars and red carpet.

“The prophecy as foretold by Mallidon is one that holds weight with every valkyrie general in Valhalla,” Kelda replied. “The wellspring deep beneath the waters holds some legendary power, the extent of which is unknown, for none have been able to reach it.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Drake continued. “Utgar wouldn’t send his forces all the way across Laur based solely on a vague prophecy.”

“You know this, do you?” She raised a white eyebrow skeptically.

“I don’t know Utgar, but I knew a general like him. He was just as evil and just as intelligent,” the sergeant explained. “Enough riddles. Just tell me.”

“Very well,” Kelda surrendered, coming to a halt in the middle of the hall. She turned to face him finally, her silvery eyes deep and serious. “Mallidon’s vision revealed that whosoever controls the wellspring of the Forsaken Waters shall win the war for Valhalla.”

Drake stared at her blankly. “That’s it? That’s it?!” He shook his head, as if trying to shake away his disbelief. “And you mean to tell me that everyone believes that? Based off what? One vision?! You can’t be serious!”

“Our world is not like yours,” Kelda answered patiently. “What would seem logical to you is not always so. You must remember this.” She sighed. “Now I must go. Jandar has summoned me. There is another champion he is preparing to summon – one whose courage and nobility is unrivaled.” She smiled, “You would be proud to know he is also from your world.”

The sergeant eyed her skeptically. “Who?”

“Someone from your past,” she answered, “A man who leads many – just as you. But these men live by an older code and fight more skillfully in hand-to-hand combat than even the courageous Vikings.”

Without hearing any more, Drake knew. All the childhood stories of medieval times came to life in his memory. Tales of legendary knights, chivalrous and virtuous, jousting matches, knighting ceremonies, romancing and courting fair maidens, battling with such bravery as to have their stories told for centuries to follow. He felt excitement rise in his chest, then smiled sheepishly. “Funny,” he muttered. “It’s almost like time traveling.”

...

“Shhh,” Raelin hissed, directed at the chattering Olaf and Lars. “I hear movement across the water.” She looked at the thin strip of land that, though clouded with mist, she knew ran between the two lakes. “The way is narrow, and the waters deep. Do not go near the edge, for your armor will drag you to your death.”

“Comforting thought,” Thorgrim remarked dismally.

“Enemies approaching from the west,” SRX210 cut in. “Request permission to setup defenses.”

Raelin nodded, “Very well.”

“SRX316. SRX785. Proceed 22 meters southeast. SRX345. SRX521. Proceed 47 meters north east.” SRX210 turned his crystalline visor to the kyrie. “Deathwalkers and zettians possess heat shielding from the carbon-lead alloy and are therefore invisible to our heat scanners. We must rely on our standard optical sensors to locate them.”

Raelin felt a cold uneasiness sweep over her. “Stay here,” she said suddenly. Bounding up into the air, silver wings outstretched, she soared upward.

[Akralon]

“What exactly are we looking at?” Drake asked, confused.

The airborne elite stood in a large circular chamber. Black and white veined marble pillars surrounded them, each mounted with flickering torches – held firmly in place by white owl shaped torch holders. In the center of the tall chamber was a large clay bowl, the size of a cauldron, filled with shimmering water.

Tall sentinels stood silently around the edges of the room. Kelda gazed at the bowl with an enigmatic expression, a cross between intense concentration and thinly veiled pleasure. Her voice was as soothing as the water’s surface. “This bowl was crafted by Mallidon himself, and the water taken from the very first wellspring Jandar discovered.”

Images swirled and blurred, flashed and faded. The ripples in the bowl seemed to move unnaturally slowly, as if the water was not water all, but something thicker, heavier.

“There is something more to the Forsaken Waters than what prophecy foretells,” Kelda continued, her silver eyes narrowing, “I feel it in my heart. I believe there are glyphs.”

“What?” Drake looked up.

“They are ancient magical symbols, runes of a past age. Some we have been able to replicate, but others have a power beyond our understanding. They are enchanted triggers that interact with living beings, or the environment itself.” Her eyes remained focused on the waters. “I saw the face of Rannveig.”

“Okay?” the sergeant looked hard at the waters, but couldn’t make anything out. “Is that good for us or bad?”

“Rannveig was a powerful being who could command the winds,” Kelda answered. “If my feelings are true, one of his glyphs may be present there. And if that is true – Raelin is in grave danger.”

…

“Ugak, Tornak!” called a tall blade grut. “Found glyph!”

Tornak reared his raptor aside and darted through the orcs to a tree stump rising two feet from the earth. What should’ve been dead wood was solid stone, and carved and set deeply into the surface was a large medallion-like artifact. The center was a round shiny piece of dark onyx, trimmed in sparkling gold. Within the shadowed center was a pulsating blue rune, lines in the shape of a gust of wind.

“That’s it,” Tornak smiled wickedly. “Once activated, all creatures in the air will be swept away… forever.”

[Akralon]

...

[ares834]

Amazing. I love how Tornak is getting a role he is one of my favorite figs.

[Akralon]

Raelin felt another chill rush down her spine… but this was somehow different. This was not a mere manifestation of her psychological state, this was cold air blasting straight through her armor, through her skin, freezing her insides.

She trembled. Something was wrong – terribly wrong. She could sense it. Below her, the sounds of shouting and yelling, the clatter and clang of clashing metal rang out. The rumble of stomping feet and high-pitched laser blasts soon followed. But it all was drowned away, growing fainter – more distant to her. Her whole world spun about her, dizziness blurred her vision, leaving her disoriented. Weakness overtook her, the spear falling from her open hand. She spiraled and spun through the air, fighting to keep consciousness from slipping away from her.

The wind seemed to rap its airy tendrils about her arms and legs and tear her away from the battle. Her wings gave out, limp in the strong winds. She was carried away and all around her blurred and darkened to utter blackness.

Down below…

“They surround us!” Thorgrim growled, bashing his shield across an orc’s face, knocking it to the ground then spearing it with his sword. “Where in hell is Raelin?”

“She vanished in the mist,” Finn answered, uppercutting his adversary with the rim of his shield, breaking its jaw. As it fell back he slashed angrily. “Metal man! Can you see her?”

“Negative,” SRX210 replied. “There are no heat signatures above us. An unidentifiable energy source is causing severe interference in our scanners.”

The Tarn were unaffected by the deafening roar of battle and used the bright flares of omnicron gun fire to light their way. With a newfound fury, they unleashed their rage on the orcs – the blue-skinned monsters who had defeated them once before, but whose ugly faces had kept the Vikings awake at night, fuming with a primal thirst for vengeance. They were the Tarn – they were the most fearsome barbarians to swing sword and axe – no slobbering beasts would take that honor from them.

This zeal rose in Finn’s heart as he battled. “Derende de alle!” He cried, lobbing of an orc’s head. Raising the blue glowing sword to the sky, he shouted, “Soon, my brothers, we will walk the halls of our ancestors! We are warriors of the wild! Not to be shamed by these foul creatures! Slay them as our fallen brothers watch us! So that when we enter the sacred gates, we will stand tall. We will stand proud.”

He stopped in time to deflect Tornak’s crude spear with his shield, spinning out of the way to avoid the raptor’s slashing teeth.

Turning in his saddle to watch the Viking hurry to his feet, Tornak sneered. “Your ancestors will watch alright, they’ll watch you die.” He jabbed his spear down again, but the Viking parried, skidding the spear aside with his sword. The raptor lashed out its tail, swinging it into Finn’s shield arm and knocking him over, sending him rolling across the ground. Tornak cursed as he lost the Viking in the swirling mists, that seemed unnaturally to be thickening more and more. He could barely see two feet in front of his steed’s horned head.

There was a bright flash proceeded by a sharp burning that seared through the orc’s shoulder as a laser shot struck him. Steam and smoke poured out of a narrow hole running through the back of his shoulder plate and out his chest. Tornak gasped, gulping for air. He glanced around with wide eyes. The mist opened and closed as it moved, revealing dead orcs all around him, as if it were somehow taunting him. He could hear the cheering of the Tarn. Where the devil were the zettian? Then he caught sight of it, a tall, sleek robot, glimmering in the dingy fog-filled air. Two more appeared behind it, blue visors glowing, laser rifles firing one –two – three. Bright flashes of light with each shot. “They have soulborgs?” he panicked. “Lord Utgar most know of this!” He slapped the reins sharply and the raptor took off sprinting. “Run beast! Run!”

As the raptor tore forward, he caught glimpses through the turning fog of falling orcs, their death cries seemed to be amplified by the unnatural mist, causing the sounds to come from all directions. Black oily blood sprayed Tornak in the face and he slammed his heels into the dinosaur’s ribs, pushing it faster. Utgar spoke only of one kyrie and some Vikings – not soulborgs. He knew he would suffer at Utgar’s hands for his retreat, but it was better than dying at the hands of his enemies.

[Metaknight]

Cool! I really like the vocabulary! And your avatar, what is it of?

[Akralon]

B.A.T. v. 4.0. (Battle Android Trooper) aka Decimator.

[Deathclaw767]

Sweet! I found this again! I like how you have characters flesh out into different personalities. Tornak is just as vicious as I imagined, if not more. I also like how you pput in that he was more afraid of fighting alone. Grimnak does seem to be the primary target of the two when playing. Keep up the good work!

[Akralon]

THE TOMB OF MIGOL II

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Lieutenant Andrews surveyed the surreal scene before him, standing silently between a pair of tall spruce trees. A great stone stairway rose up before them, broad and massive, to a platform high above. Tall broken pillars rose to differing lengths along either side. Like the tales of the ancient Mayan temples in Central America, these ruins were an artifact of an era lost long ago, eroded by the waves of time.

“Sir,” Sgt. Adams tipped his cover and followed his officer’s eyes forward. “Though the implications in the general’s preparatory speech indicated the presence of wolf-men, our scouts have thus far sighted only woodland creatures – and nothing of a menacing nature.”

“And how fare the men?”

Adams shrugged. “Truth be told, they are bit on edge.” He looked about. “I’d much rather be fighting Redcoats, Sir.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Lt. Andrews frowned. “Unfortunately, we have been summoned forth by a power of such benevolence and wisdom as to demand by virtue alone our willful alliance. If we call ourselves men of courage – men of a valiant nature, then at our core we cannot truly do otherwise.” He dug the butt of his rifle into the earth and frowned. “I would be lying if I said it was my pleasure to be in this place, however.” His sharp eyes softened a bit. “All said, I understand the direction of your thoughts. Inform Corporal Davies and Ford to take their posts at the northern ends of the encampment.” He squinted in the dimming light. “I’ll not risk any more exploration this day – not without proper light.”

“Yes, Sir.” Adams departed, leaving the lieutenant solitary once again.

Lt. Andrews scanned the moss covered stone stairway once more, wondering how long ago the foul creatures under Utgar’s reigns tread upon them. His thoughts wandered to the nature of their enemy, and in fact what fashion of creature they would bear arms against, in addition to the wolf-men they had thus far, only heard stories of.

The imperviously virtuous Jandar had clearly stated that the ruins known as the Tomb of Migol II would be all too enticing to Utgar – a suitable location for a preliminary staging point for invasion. The endless labyrinth of catacombs beneath the sturdy construction would provide adequate lodging and ample room for the unsavory monster-kind. Lt. Andrews frowned, crinkling his nose as a foul wind wafted by. The duty had been appointed to the 4th Massachusetts Line, or what was left of it.

“Gggaaaaghhhh!!”

Lt. Andrews jolted from his thoughts, raising his rifle and peering towards the sound of the scream. He could hear the sounds of thumping footsteps across the earth, of shifting foliage and low bristling growls. Another scream pierced the air. Andrews grimaced; the light of day had all but diminished to darkness.

“Lieutenant!” came Sgt. Adams rattled voice as he burst out of the trees, panting for breath. “We have lost the eastern watch!”

“Did you catch sight of anything?” Andrews demanded. “Any signs?”

“Blood,” Adams exhaled, “Spattered over the bark of a spruce. Not a clue thereafter.”

Another scream, followed by a series of thundering musket blasts. The smell of smoke began to permeate the night air.

Lt. Andrews eyed the ruins. He pointed his rifle barrel to the tomb’s peak. “Direct the men upward, out of this maze of trees! Position the regiment at the highest vantage point affordable.”

As the minutemen frantically rallied themselves into formation and surged up the ruined stairway, a chorus of howls sang eerily in the twilight, as if mocking their flight with a cruel enjoyment.


Down below, hidden in the shadows of the dense pine forest, the anubians snarled and smiled in twisted satisfaction.

One shaggy wolf-man growled, “Lord Khosumet, let us taste their flesh.”

The addressed anubian leader glowered, red eyes flashing with anger. “Leave them. Lord Utgar is not to be disobeyed. He only wanted us to herd them to the beast that sleeps within. This meal is not ours.” Khosumet licked his fangs, “We will linger to catch the scraps.” With a vicious sneer, the wolf-lord added, “Wait and watch. Soon they will come running to back to us.”


“Hold fast, men,” Lt. Andrews ordered. “Keep your eyes on the tree line. Keep steady. Do not fire in haste or fright, or you will waste what precious ammunition we possess. Be calm… and allow our enemies to make the first mistake.”

“Sir,” Sgt. Adams muttered beside him, “There was no attempt to pursue our retreat. They hide in shadows. Either they possess enough intellect to recognize the advantage of our high ground, or they fear to follow us.”

The lieutenant ground his teeth, considering his sergeant's words. Then, as if drawn to, he glanced behind them, noticing for the first time a large broken hole in the stone, descending into dusty darkness. He thought he smelt ash.

[Deathclaw767]

Hooray! Another successful installment of the Legends of Valhalla!
I've been missing your writing Akralon, and I must say. It doesn't seem to have diminished whatsoever.Thank you for continuing on these stories, as they entertain and intrigue me. I hope we can be expecting further installments!

[Akralon]

Thank you - and thank you for continuing to read them, heh. I've only got a few months before I deploy to the Persian Gulf, for pretty much the rest of the year, so I figured I'd try and tie up some loose ends and finish whatever I could manage.

[Akralon]

-------------------------------Part 2-----------------------------------------

The soft blue light radiating from the crystal sphere illuminated the circular chamber, casting the blue-skinned Kelda and the airborne company in a mystical aura. Within the swirling clouds of the orb’s center, the watery image of the 4th Massachusetts Line was dreamlike.

They watched in silent dread as the scene unfolded before them. A heavy rumbling deep in the earth shook the foundations of the ruins, rattling stones and stirring dust clouds.

“First line, kneel!” Lt. Andrews ordered, refusing to admit notice of the quaking. “Take aim! Second line-!” The voices echoed loudly in the chamber, as if the kyrie and the airborne were standing atop the ruins with Lt. Andrews and the soldiers. “Reload!”

As the first two lines of soldiers readied themselves, the first kneeling and the second standing legs apart, both with rifles set against the shoulders, the hole behind them began to belch clouds of dust.

“Sir,” Sgt. Adams gulped, “These ruins were abandoned for good reason. Some unspeakable evil rests within the bowels of that pit!”

“Fourth line!” Andrews continued, “Form three columns about the opening. Keep your rifles steady! Do not fire until ordered! I don’t-“

With a horrible roar, that seemed it would shake the crystal ball from its perch, the stone floor of the temple’s top burst open, brick shattering like glass and sending helpless soldiers hurtling through the air and tumbling down the sides of the ruins.

Sgt. Drake felt the airborne leaning in closer to see the crystal’s images more clearly. A flash of crimson and bronze shot from the new opening. Men screamed and ran. Some remained and fired their rifles in hopeless futility. Large black talons lashed out, rending entire men in two. Spear-like teeth snapped down atop Lt. Andrews as he tried to shout orders. The lieutenant’s legs dangled lifelessly from the giant reptilian’s jaws before it threw back its head and they disappeared entirely.

Sgt. Adams rallied the men further down the steps. Those who fled were caught by the waiting wolf-men and set upon without mercy – dying in a flurry of brown fur and white fangs.

As the last of the regiment lifted their rifles in valiant defiance, the great bronze dragon lowered its black horned head and opened its mighty jaws. At once a stream of searing fire exploded from its throat, rushing forward and consuming everything – until the only image left in the orb was the red and orange of burning flames. Then the image went dark.

“It was a trap from the start!” Sgt. Drake grimaced. He looked to Kelda with anger. “Where the hell did that dragon come from? And how did Utgar know it was there?”

Kelda’s soft eyes turned to the sergeant. “Utgar is one of the most powerful valkyrie in this world. He has walked these lands for centuries. There are precious few secrets unknown to him.”

Drake shook his head. “We sent one regiment to a place we knew little about? What was Jandar thinking? Why would he do that?”

“Perhaps, noble brother-in-arms, I might answer thy question.” The airborne turned to face the new speaker, a man armored in gleaming silver plates, with disheveled blond hair and a blue ribbon tied about his belt. “I am Sir Denrick of Weston.”

The airborne stared at the knight with mild amusement. Ramirez elbowed Johnson. “Is he for real?”

“Lord Jandar gave mine knights, and the soldiers of Lt. Andrews each our own quest.” Denrick continued, entering the room. “The Jandarian scouts gave report of wolf-men near the tomb, which Lord Jandar did believe were but spies of Utgar, scouting out the lower regions of Laur, seeking a proper site to make his unholy advancement. Lt. Andrews did volunteer to slay the wolf-men and hold the ruins until further reinforcements be sent. I did lead the knights of Weston back to the Forsaken Waters to search for the missing kyrie – Raelin. We failed in our quest to find her and were ambushed – set upon by a small legion of demons. We would have met our doom if not for the intervention of Jandar’s omnicron, who had taken to the surrounding hills. Utgar knows the wellspring deep beneath the murky waters is that of Mallidon’s Prophecy. He seeks it now more than anything. Though his forces were defeated at the lake, he will invade now from the south, which is the precise reason we have returned to Idona.”

Sgt. Drake eyed the knight skeptically. “You’re saying they’re gonna attack the castle?”

“Yes.”

The sergeant looked to the silver-winged kyrie, as if for conformation.

Kelda exhaled, “Those who remained of the 4th Massachusetts will aid in the defense of the walls. Lord Jandar has sent emissaries east to Ekstrom – to seek alliance with Ullar – for if we fail here, then Ullar’s lands will be next, and he must know this.”

“Emissaries?” Drake muttered.

“Sentinels,” Kelda replied. “There is also rumor of a kyrie champion, an old friend of Raelin’s, who has returned to Nastralund – returned from a long journey. If he joins our cause we will have gained a powerful ally. Lord Jandar has asked that you and your men accompany me as I travel north to seek this kyrie champion.” She frowned. “Utgar knows of his arrival as well, and will have already sent assassins – so we must guard ourselves well upon the roads of Nastralund. What’s worse,” her face fell, “Without Raelin here to speak to the kyrie, I doubt we will have much success. He may not listen to us at all.”

“Why?” Sgt. Drake uttered uneasily. “The whole world’s at war and he’s finicky about picking sides?”

“There is more to the story,” Kelda answered, “But we’ve not time.” She turned to Denrick. “Sir Denrick, your knowledge of defending such architecture as castles and towers will be invaluable to the riflemen and omnicron. Help them prepare whatever defenses you deem necessary to protect the outer wall.”

Denrick bowed low. “As thou sayest, good lady, it will be done.”

“One other thing,” Kelda looked back to the knight, her silver eyes resonating with a grave light. “When Utgar’s forces arrive, there will be more than just orcs.”

[Deathclaw767]

Darned Persian Gulf... Stealing one of my primary sources of Heroscapers entertainment.... I must a way to make them stop, or I shall be left with only Billtog, and who knows what terrors that may cause me to bring upon myself!

[ares834]

Wow. I am so happy you are back in buisness.