The Heroscape Chronicles: Prologue

[Agatagary]

The Heroscape Chronicles
Book 1: The Rise of the Valkyrie
By Agatagary

A Note From the Author

Hello. For those of you who do not know me, I am Agatagary. Before HeroscapeHQ shut down, I wrote a series called "The Heroscape Chronicles," the purpose of which was 1: to chronicle the war over Valhalla starting from the time that the wellsprings were first discovered, and 2: to provide an alternative storyline to the official one, which I personally feel is inadequate, and a bit too nonlinear (aside from Thorman's journal, there is no concrete plot nor much evidence of causality or any sort of timeline). Unfortunately, I made the terrible mistake of not backing up my work, and when the site went down, so did my story.

Even after I found this site, I did not feel ready to try to recreate the story immediately. Finally, however, last summer, I decided to sit down and type up as much as I could. I now have three chapters (including this prologue) ready to post, and more to type.

I would like to stress, however, that I do not possess copious amounts of free time, and my ability to write will therefore be limited. As has happened before, I may also vanish from the site without an explanation. Please do not expect any regularity in my posting of each chapter, as you will probably be disappointed.

Those of you who have read the earlier series may notice a few changes. The most significant change, for purposes of plot, is that Kyries are no longer quite as immortal as they were previously. They still enjoy immortality in a form, but it is in a form that is less unbalancing to the plot.

I hope that you enjoy reading my stories, and I greatly appreciate every comment you make, whether it is criticism (constructive, of course), praise, advice, or anything else. Thank you for reading The Heroscape Chronicles



Prologue: The Forbidden Glyph

A vast array of stars oscillated against a pitch black background. Far below, a lone figure limped across a vast plain. Looking at him from a distance, one might have almost thought him human-almost. Panting, he trudged through the grasses, clutching his side from which a maroon liquid dripped. Though certainly not human, he bled the same color. The ground ahead of him seemed endless to his bloodshot, weary eyes. He wore thick leather armor, and carried a worn sword strapped to his back. A human might have guessed that he was of another species by his great size, or by his inhumanly bright eyes. The greatest giveaway, however, were the two stumps protruding from his back, the remnants of appendages lost in battle.

Malliddon gasped in relief when he saw the end of the plain, far up ahead, and the start of the sand. Nostralund... he thought. How I have missed you. Still clutching his side, he continued towards the beginning of the vast desert, thanking his ancestors for his luck, and for his survival. In the desert, Malliddon had no fear of anything. He was so used to the desert that he could find his way to any part of it, regardless of its uniformity. He would have sung a song of joy, except that he had the suspicion that it would cost him half a vorta of blood. No matter. Malliddon was not really the type for singing anyway.

Suddenly he whirled around-or more precisely, he turned in an anxious yet careful manner. His eyes widened. There was no mistaking that noise. From the sky descended a frightful creature, which a human would describe only as a demon. Its red, leathery wings beat hard as it descended, landing in front of Malliddon, an arrogant sneer on its sinister, helmeted face.

"Malliddon!" It spoke in a low, gravelly tone. "Lord Mitonsoul told me I could find you limping about somewhere around here! He told me to bring back your head, but failed to specify whether it should be attached to your body... You seem so troubled. You were never like this with your army ahead of you, were you? Are you... ashamed, of being a fellkyrie perhaps?"

Despite his wound, Malliddon spat vehemently on the ground before the demonic figure. "I am no fellkyrie! My disability comes from battle, not punishment! I am an honorable warrior of Nostralund!"
"Hmm... is that so? Nevertheless, you do not look like a very powerful warrior right now, regardless of how honorable you may be." The creature reached behind its back and pulled out an enormous battleaxe. "It would be quite easy to free you from the terrible constraints that your wounded body must place on you. Would you like me to release you from your... pain?"

"Never!" Malliddon whipped out a dagger from a concealed pocket in his armor. He winced as his wound throbbed, but held his ground. "You will die before you or your axe touch me, Astrid!"

Astrid looked at the tiny dagger, then at his battleaxe. He laughed. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you, in your wounded state, wielding that puny thing, can stop-" here he seemed to almost swell with arrogance, "-me?"

With a grim smile, Malliddon pulled from behind his back a strange artifact, glowing with a terrible light. The arrogance immediately vanished from Astrid's face. "You still have one of those! But you- ah-"
Astrid paused for a moment, backing cautiously away from Malliddon. Then he seemed to make up his mind. "It makes no difference in any case! Die, Malliddon! Die, in the name of Lord Mitonsoul!" Astrid leaped at Malliddon, battleaxe raised, confident that his wounds would be too deep to allow him to do what Astrid feared, confident that it was nothing more than a bluff.

It was not.

Malliddon roared in an ancient language, simultaneously thrusting the object in front of him toward Astrid and plunging the dagger deep into his own arm, creating a new wound. Astrid screamed. A thousand eyes seemed to be staring at him as he plunged into the depths of the glowing object. In seconds, Astrid had vanished.

Though triumphant, Malliddon could manage no more than a faint smile. After carefully stowing Astrid's new prison along with several others that he had collected, he collapsed, blood loss clouding his vision. Is this... it? He thought. Will I die here, mere feet away from the desert? No... my healer, where is my healer? Ah yes... she perished in that... that battle... I shall then summon, summon another one, perhaps?

Through great effort of will, Malliddon managed to reach into his pocket and pull out a sealed flask which he knew contained a sparkling and clear liquid. Soon, he thought, soon I shall find a healer. I must... think... Malliddon concentrated hard. With decades of practice, he now knew how to feel for what he wanted. Preparing himself, he unsealed the flask and tilted it back to drink the magical water...

Nothing came out. It was empty. With a feeling of horror, he remembered using it in battle for reinforcements. His last chance, gone.
Groaning, he began to feel his life ebbing. Who was... I..?

"Malliddon!" came a cry from a distance away.

Malliddon did not seem to hear it, engrossed as he was in his own death. I was... Malliddon...

A young, female figure raced towards him, a staff in her hands. If Astrid had looked like a demon, then this figure looked like an angel. From her back protruded great, white wings. She held an enormous staff in her hands.

"Malliddon! It's me! It's Kelda! Hold- hold on! Do not give up!"

Malliddon turned feebly towards Kelda. "Kelda? Why... are you here..?"

"I've come to help you! Please, Malliddon..."

Malliddon frowned. "You... cannot help me, my student. I die slowly, from... terrible wounds. You are not yet an experienced healer." He suddenly gasped with pain. "I am... doomed..."

"No Malliddon! I can save you! Look!" Kelda pulled from a pocket a strange artifact, similar in style to the one in which Astrid now resided, yet different in design. It blazed bright violet.

Malliddon eyes widened. "No... ergghh... do... not release... that... Chrondar must stay... sealed..."

"No, Malliddon. Chrondar has remained sealed long enough. He shall help you now!"

Malliddon tried again. "That is a... forbidden glyph... you cannot... you do not know what will..." His voice faltered. Alarmed, Kelda spoke a few words and held the glyph tightly.

A light, incredibly bright, emanated from the glyph. It seemed to fill the world. This was indeed an artifact of great power. A hundred glittering streams of magic seemed to stream from all around the world, converging on the artifact that Kelda held. Malliddon began to drift into unconsciousness.

A few minutes later, Malliddon woke up. He blinked, and felt the places where his wounds had been. Healed. Completely. Turning, he saw a figure behind him, but his vision was somewhat blurry. As it cleared, the figure was revealed to be...

"Kelda?"

Kelda looked at him, and then smiled. "Malliddon! You're all right!" She hugged him.

Malliddon frowned, and moved away. "Kelda... look at yourself."

Frowning, she moved a hand in front of her face, and gasped. It was grayish, wrinkled, and appeared to be hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. She pulled a strand of hair in front of her eyes- white. "H-how?"

Malliddon looked somber. "The Glyph of Chrondar is... or was... the most powerful glyph in existence. It requires an enormous amount of energy, and an enormous amount of life force. We now know where the life force came from... where did you get the energy?"

"The... wellsprings. They certainly have enough magic to spare."
A look of horror crossed Malliddon's face. "The- the wellsprings?" he stammered. "But..."

He collapsed again, and shook his head sadly. "Oh, Kelda... you have sacrificed your youth for my sake, and for that I am deeply grateful, but you have also... but no. Perhaps I am wrong. You are, after all, correct- the wellsprings do have a lot of magic. We shall see. Follow me- let's go to my outpost, and then we can find out exactly what has happened."

The two of them marched across a barren landscape. In the next few years, empires across their world would collapse, and long-held order would collapse into chaos, but neither of them knew this right now. Right now, the only thing that they were worried about was getting to safety.

[Metaknight]

Nice! I like it because it's detailed but doesn't overdue it and make it boring.

[Agatagary]

Thank you, Metaknight.

By overdo, do you mean to make it too long, or something else? I am asking because the other two chapters that I have finished are about twice as long as the prologue, and I am wondering if I should cut them in half, if this length is good.

[Legion]

Oh if you saw my fan fic, i'm sorry. I didn't know I was taking the title from another person.

[Agatagary]

It's fine. It would be unreasonable for me to expect you to know about the Heroscape Chronicles, since it has not been up since the old site went down! I am sorry that my story has the same title as yours--I do not want to seem as though I am stealing your title.

[Einar's puppy]

I think what he meens by overdo is like "He stepped onto the sand. The sand had shades of purple and green and orange and tan and brown in it. The sand was incredibly fine....."two paragraphs later "...the sand gave him hope. Just then a demonic huminoid about 7'1 or 1'4 meters...."
*note that that is probly not the right meters

[Metaknight]

Originally Posted by Agatagary

Thank you, Metaknight.

By overdo, do you mean to make it too long, or something else? I am asking because the other two chapters that I have finished are about twice as long as the prologue, and I am wondering if I should cut them in half, if this length is good.

No, I mean like in some books they have 2 pages on somebody describing a house or something.

[Einar's puppy]

Originally Posted by Metaknight

No, I mean like in some books they have 2 pages on somebody describing a house or something.

like what I said

[ewabbie]

Originally Posted by Metaknight

No, I mean like in some books they have 2 pages on somebody describing a house or something.

Like the way Steven King can go on for pages describing the front door of the house. (BUT - Mr. King makes it work)

[Agatagary]

Originally Posted by ewabbie

I do not see how this qualifies as necromancy, as it was posted less than two weeks ago...

I am glad, however, that you at least read it.