Chronicles Of The Royal Company
Posted: Mon Nov 21, 2011 4:20 am
So I've completely changed the prologue as this all began with army list and no intention to write a story.. But things got carried away so I knew I had to change things and write a bit more properly lol so here's it is with a few reviews done to it.
If you're just starting this story, be patient during the prologues as they were never meant to be a story (more fluff) and while they do pertain to the overall plot. My writing in them is rather.. meh lol
Story
Prologue part 1
A golden figure upon a horse overlooked a massive plateau that was flanked by rolling hills and the great Eagle mountains to the north. This was Prince Althran, one of the three Princes who each led the battalions of The Royal Company.
Althran slowly strode his horse towards the crest of the hill, and made an imposing sight clad with golden Ithilmar scales, plate armor and a helm ordained by tall gold eagle wings embroidered by purple scroll work . His beloved horse Elothinar was strapped in matching golden barding, as was his entire battalion in one way or another.
The Royal Company bestowed the golden scale armor and plates along with dark blue cloaks, and royal purple tassels to those who proved themselves worthy in battle.
The Princes of the company had not been rejoined in some time as each prince had been assigned a task from the Phoenix king Finubar.
Calehir'Thalui, was the nearest on a similar mission in hunting the skaven threat near the Elven port of Copher . Though he had recently suffered a terrible loss in the battle that prevented an ancient and unknown Tomb King with his undead army from sacking the city of Copher .
News of Calehir's recovery was slow and inaccurate, yet Prince Althran had known the fellow prince for ages and was confident Calehir would find his feet again.
The third and final prince who completed the trio was the wind rider of Tiranoc, Prince Toran. The three had forged friendship amongst war while some of the younger nobles in their service had grown up together and from there a brotherhood was formed.
Althran adjusted his chest plate which was embroidered with two amethyst dragons facing each other and perched for combat. His long golden shield was sturdy and depicted the radiant crescent moon at its center. In his right hand was a magnificent and ancient sword which was forged on Vauls Anvil in Ulthuan. The sacred forge where weapons were made from the fires of the black volcano island located off the coast of the kingdom of Caledor.
Yet his most praised possession was that of the orb which hung along a golden linked chain and swirled with dark energy. Given to him by a trusted commander, good friend and now considered one of his brothers in the company. The Arch Mage Dethadrin or what many liked to call him The White Flame.
Dethadrin had taught the prince about the sacred gem and how to harness the winds of death magic; as vengeance pushed him to become stronger, wiser and more deadly.
Prince Althran had lost his brother to the skaven head taker, Warlord Queek. The foul rat warlord famed for killing noble heroes in single combat.
Yet despite his anger and despair, Althran has mastered his emotions in belief that his duty to Ulthuan and its people would and should come before all else.
His current duty was to cover the western valley road which traveled around the base of the Eagle Mountains and to the city of Copher.
Prince Althran watched as Dethadrin Strode in front of the massive regiment of Seaguard, the military core that is highly trained in both land and sea combat.
Their endless golden shields and helms were abruptly interrupted by 'The White Guard' Swordmasters from the White Tower, personal bodyguard to Dethadrin and protectors of the sacred dragon banner.
They were looked fearsome, clad in white scale armor and silver plates, with white cloaks underneath and massive great swords near six feet in length.
Truly deadly he thought to himself, as he observed his sworn bannerman Sicandric staying near the battalions standard with the White guard not to far away. Sicandric was bound by blood through Dethadrin's household from the lower yet honorable line of Finlirion. His courage in battle could not be denied and he held his position with great pride.
Althran turned his horse further to the left and faced his personal retinue, the famed Dragon Princes of Caledor and ironically named Caledors Thunder. Hand picked from Calehir who had insisted they keep Althran from harm.
They armed themselves uniquely to represent each of their royal houses throughout Caledor. Some wore no golden armor at all, some wore a dark dragon blue, or green plated armor with red and dark blue robes, and others wore white plate while some had interesting gold and bronze.
He was a Prince amongst Princes, yet there was no one he would rather ride with.
Two eagles swooped overhead as his retinue formed up around him and proceeded to follow him to the edge of the hill overlooking a great plateau that would be their battlefield.
His Lothern Seaguard or better known as Storm Company, began to form on the long crest of the hill to keep the high ground and to truly turn the sky into a storm of arrows and death.
The skaven rat horde was massing on the opposite end of the plateau, they were truly gruesome and vile. His heart hardened as he searched their ranks with his keen vision for the one he had hated for so long, the one he yearned to find, the foul rat warlord the Headtaker. Though he could not see nor feel his mortal enemies’ presence, he knew he would one day as slaying their treacherous race would be plenty for now.
Althran turned to Cleriam, his trusted bodyguard and said “so it begins ..."
Althran then strode his horse a few paces ahead gaining the full view from his fellow elves.
He spurred Elothinar into the air and shouted "For Ulthuan!"
This was followed by a loud and thunderous cheer from his troops as they halted their advance.
The Elven Soldiers then notched arrows to their bows in complete unison as captain Sicandric shouted to make ready.
With a nod of Althrans head, the young noble stepped forward with the banner and shouted "send them back to the depths from which they came...Loose Arrows!"
Prince Althrans smirk from the arrows flying high into the air quickly left him as his officers shouted in unison to the massive cannon blasts in the distance....."Hold firm !!!"
White Flame was what his swordmaster guardians called him, and was all he could hear as they chanted it in glory to the massive white flames that engulfed the charging rats. The flames of the phoenix was a devastating spell from what the high elven loremasters called True magic.
The rats disgusted him and Dethadrin was intent on cleansing their filth from the field, as he watched the diseased bubbles that covered their bodies burst from the scorching flames that ignited their cloaks.
He paused and smiled, as the enemies magical sorcerers were continuously drained by the stronger and ancient wards in the army’s standard banner.
Sicandric stood by the pennant, as he notched another arrow in unison with the regiment and made to release on the impending rat horde.
Dethadrin quickly raised his hand and signaled Sicandric to hold, as he watched prince Althran leading a mighty cavalry charge with his bodyguard at its center.
"Sicandric reinforce the princes charge, target their left flank!" he shouted, to which the Young noble gave a quick nod.
“Target the left Flank!” the young captain shouted to his officers, while the massive Seaguard formation, which covered the center battle line, shifted their bows and took aim.
“Loose Arrows!” Was the next command echoed by the Sicandric as Dethadrin swirled a magical spell of blessing in his hands.
As the arrows flew his spell erupted in a florescent golden shockwave, which guided the arrows with devastating accuracy.
The elven cavalry slammed their deadly lances into the vermin horde, as the white fletched arrows from their brethren came in perfect unison.
The charge cut deep into the enemy lines as the arrows wounded the front ranks of the rat formation.
The route was almost immediate as their disease ridden captain was trampled under the mighty hooves of the Asur cavalry.
Their lines were broken and victory was at hand…yet something spoke to Althran. He could not understand the faint and ever so quiet voice, however his thoughts vengefully turned towards the foul rat sorcerer that desperately tried to overcome Dethadrins deadly spells at the elven center.
With this thought Althran turned his cavalry back to reinforce the center, and to kill the sorcerer.
Things did not happen as the prince had planned, the center met the rat horde with a deadly phalanx of shields and sleek spear points.
His cavalry took heavy losses to artillery as they attempted to reinforce the army’s center. A foul tactical error on his part as the sorcerer had proved to be strong and difficult to find in the magical shadow realm where death magic drew its energy from.
The battle raged as neither side gave ground while suffering heavy casualties. Giant mutated creatures were brought down by arrows as Dethadrin burned entire regiments to the ground, yet the rats continued forward. Their massive numbers and odd creations took many Asur brothers with them once they met in close quarters.
What started as a massive engagement dwindled to light skirmishes and then to further and further mid ranged projectile encounters as both sides became defensive.
The elven battalion moved out of cannon range as eagle claw bolt throwers loosed hails of bolts over the Asur formations.
Cleriam rode up with the remaining dragon prince bodyguard, many were taken from the enemies artillery onslaught.
"My prince, do we make for the city of Copher?" The drake master asked as he slowed his steed to a stop.
Althran gazed as the skaven horde marched north and showed no sign of wanting another encounter.
“We have lost much of our strength.” Althran replied, as he silently paused in thought.
They had killed much yet not enough to limit their casualties. A feeling of guilt rose within him as he began to blame himself for his lack of control.
He had known those cannons should have been eliminated in his charging fury. But the pendant … It whispered to him, his lust for vengeance took control and he tried his best to kill the foul grey seer rat that unleashed such power.
He cursed again and spurred Elothinar forward as he answered "we make for Copher, move out"!
--------------------------
Prologue Part 2
He breathed deep in the cool night air as drops of sweat came down his forehead, the nightmares were vivid tonight.
Calehir’Thalui was a prince of Caledor, a kingdom famed for riding mythical dragons into combat for the armies of Ulthuan. Though their age had passed as the dragons slowly fell into an endless slumber of dreams few knew of.
Since the prince began studying the dark lore of Death Magic, his nightmares seemed to turn worse. Ever since his fathers death during his youth, he had studied the winds of magic, True Magic in particular for a large part of his training.
Yet with the recent death of his dragon, who was both his friend and mentor… he lost faith in its power to keep those he cared for alive.
He looked elsewhere for a power to attain revenge on the foul undead skeleton armies, which were led by kings long dead and coming from realms long forgotten.
The tomb king who hailed from the southern deserts of Araby, had engaged them on the Eastern plains from the city of Copher. His power was devastating.
Massive boulders and dark magic had taken his dragons life during the battle along with many Asur. A full route was avoided by the bravery of Daherais Arhain, a trusted commander who decided to lead a cavalry counter charge in order to allow the remaining elven forces to regroup. Daherais was slain by the undead king during his glorious charge which delayed the undead armies and saved many, including his younger brother Elandrel.
This is where Calehir found his link to the power he seeked as the Arhain family contained a traditional practice in the deadly death magic from the shadow world.
Together they studied dark spells as Elandrels bloodline began to show its true power from the fuel of vengeance. The mage gained tremendous power as Calehir did his best to keep up to the clearly more magically attuned brother.
Soon they would meet the undead king again, very soon.
The prince laid back on the soft feathers of his mighty Griffon who he had named Khaine. He spite'd the gods for leaving him such a dark hole to live with and found looking to the death god a comforting thought.
The Griffon was a gift from Prince Ithenias or more known as the Warden of Copher.
Though defeated by the undead army, the engagement weakened the enemy enough to prevent a siege of the city itself, and for this he was rewarded for his sacrifice.
Calehirs’ bond to Khaine was growing daily as they would occasionally fly high into the northern mountains and ride the wind currents for hours on end.
The griffon also gave the prince some measure of peace in the night as he found sleep came easier with Khaine nearby.
The Prince’s eyes slowly closed as he viewed the city of Copher from a high ridge on the northern mountains. He had found a large cave in the side of the cliff that could comfortably fit the two of them with a small fire when needed. This is where he collected his thoughts this is where he escaped to clear his mind.
--------------------------
Prologue Part 3
The sun's heat bore down on the ancient chariots that raced along the fracture of what was left of the plains in Tiranoc. Three soaring eagles watched with keen interest as the five chariots attempted to keep up with their noble lord Prince Toran or more known as the Wind Rider.
Clad in golden dragon plate armor, which was engraved with a royal purple scroll work that bestowed his title and bloodline. He truly fit the image of a great prince, as dark blue robes flowed underneath his golden dragon scales. This was followed with a dark blue tassel, which streaked through the wind from his tall golden helm.
He raced his chariot with a grace that could only be attained over a thousand years of practice and mastery. The wind was what he loved most; the cold and fresh coastal currents coming in from the west filled him with memories of glories past and to come, as he led his escort on a rampage across the plains in the golden sun.
The great Tor’an Roc watch tower loomed in the distance to his left, as prince Toran scanned the horizon and became lost in a magical daze, the horizon would swell for only a brief second before seemingly coming back to its normal state. He raised his hand for a general halt, which took only a few seconds as the escorts mastery of their chariots were second to none other then the noble lords who led them.
Norein Delosir watched her lord gaze into the distance, as the gem that hung from his neck pulsed with a magical flow of faint colors and slow swirling energies. In fact there were two talismans on golden links that hung from his neck and to the side of his plated chest; gifts from the mighty White Tower of Hoeth.
The tower was the magical learning center for the mages of Ulthuan and its surrounding forrest was the home of the famed and skilled Swordmasters.
Norein was aware that her Prince had studied the teachings of life magic at the tower and had become attuned with the wind that he loved so, and the earthly plains that he rode. These energies spoke to him and their energies flowed all around them.
The company sat in silence as they all knew to well that to interrupt their princes concentration, would bring grave consequences.
Norein glanced over to the young noble, Fornas Satuin who shrugged his shoulder plates with a smirk that showed a hint of mischief. He was a brave but over zealous noblemans son who dreamed of glory, and had the skill to achieve it, if he could control his passion.
Fornas's dark blue cloak snapped in the occasional gusts of wind, as he ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. His right arm gripped his golden helm to his side, which gave him a truly heroic look.
The gauntlets he wore were truly remarkable, bestowed with ward gems of protection that could save him from a fatal blow.
Noreins armor came to sharp points, where as Fornas' were rounded. Her shield was an ancient family heirloom from when her noble bloodline was joined with that of a Caledorian nobleman.
The shield had dark red dragon scales with a red ruby encrusted at its center, her spear was always close and her long sword was slung across her back.
She had grown up with the prince, which seemed to have been only a few decades past. This however she knew was not so, as the many battles that she followed prince Toran would never leave her. Each left their marks of glory and sorrow.
She had seen much, sometimes far too much that she cared to remember. Though for her memories, Norein was still fairly young compared to many and had served a life of protecting her mighty prince and would continue to do so until death.
He held her heart though if he knew such, she was not sure. She loved what he represented, how he led his men and his prowess in battle was truly inspiring. His smile brought a warmth to her heart that she could not explain. She was his trusted friend and second in command.
Prince Toran slowly picked up the reins to his chariot and turned to them.
"Something is amiss; the magical currents do not run in their normal course… They are manipulated and the horizon gives me an uneasy feeling… back to camp!" With that he raced his chariot ahead with a light flick of the reins, as he gently spoke to his horses.
The chariots followed the wide curve that brought them back the way they had come, and towards the elven camp where the rest of the battalion awaited.
.
If you're just starting this story, be patient during the prologues as they were never meant to be a story (more fluff) and while they do pertain to the overall plot. My writing in them is rather.. meh lol
Story
Prologue part 1
A golden figure upon a horse overlooked a massive plateau that was flanked by rolling hills and the great Eagle mountains to the north. This was Prince Althran, one of the three Princes who each led the battalions of The Royal Company.
Althran slowly strode his horse towards the crest of the hill, and made an imposing sight clad with golden Ithilmar scales, plate armor and a helm ordained by tall gold eagle wings embroidered by purple scroll work . His beloved horse Elothinar was strapped in matching golden barding, as was his entire battalion in one way or another.
The Royal Company bestowed the golden scale armor and plates along with dark blue cloaks, and royal purple tassels to those who proved themselves worthy in battle.
The Princes of the company had not been rejoined in some time as each prince had been assigned a task from the Phoenix king Finubar.
Calehir'Thalui, was the nearest on a similar mission in hunting the skaven threat near the Elven port of Copher . Though he had recently suffered a terrible loss in the battle that prevented an ancient and unknown Tomb King with his undead army from sacking the city of Copher .
News of Calehir's recovery was slow and inaccurate, yet Prince Althran had known the fellow prince for ages and was confident Calehir would find his feet again.
The third and final prince who completed the trio was the wind rider of Tiranoc, Prince Toran. The three had forged friendship amongst war while some of the younger nobles in their service had grown up together and from there a brotherhood was formed.
Althran adjusted his chest plate which was embroidered with two amethyst dragons facing each other and perched for combat. His long golden shield was sturdy and depicted the radiant crescent moon at its center. In his right hand was a magnificent and ancient sword which was forged on Vauls Anvil in Ulthuan. The sacred forge where weapons were made from the fires of the black volcano island located off the coast of the kingdom of Caledor.
Yet his most praised possession was that of the orb which hung along a golden linked chain and swirled with dark energy. Given to him by a trusted commander, good friend and now considered one of his brothers in the company. The Arch Mage Dethadrin or what many liked to call him The White Flame.
Dethadrin had taught the prince about the sacred gem and how to harness the winds of death magic; as vengeance pushed him to become stronger, wiser and more deadly.
Prince Althran had lost his brother to the skaven head taker, Warlord Queek. The foul rat warlord famed for killing noble heroes in single combat.
Yet despite his anger and despair, Althran has mastered his emotions in belief that his duty to Ulthuan and its people would and should come before all else.
His current duty was to cover the western valley road which traveled around the base of the Eagle Mountains and to the city of Copher.
Prince Althran watched as Dethadrin Strode in front of the massive regiment of Seaguard, the military core that is highly trained in both land and sea combat.
Their endless golden shields and helms were abruptly interrupted by 'The White Guard' Swordmasters from the White Tower, personal bodyguard to Dethadrin and protectors of the sacred dragon banner.
They were looked fearsome, clad in white scale armor and silver plates, with white cloaks underneath and massive great swords near six feet in length.
Truly deadly he thought to himself, as he observed his sworn bannerman Sicandric staying near the battalions standard with the White guard not to far away. Sicandric was bound by blood through Dethadrin's household from the lower yet honorable line of Finlirion. His courage in battle could not be denied and he held his position with great pride.
Althran turned his horse further to the left and faced his personal retinue, the famed Dragon Princes of Caledor and ironically named Caledors Thunder. Hand picked from Calehir who had insisted they keep Althran from harm.
They armed themselves uniquely to represent each of their royal houses throughout Caledor. Some wore no golden armor at all, some wore a dark dragon blue, or green plated armor with red and dark blue robes, and others wore white plate while some had interesting gold and bronze.
He was a Prince amongst Princes, yet there was no one he would rather ride with.
Two eagles swooped overhead as his retinue formed up around him and proceeded to follow him to the edge of the hill overlooking a great plateau that would be their battlefield.
His Lothern Seaguard or better known as Storm Company, began to form on the long crest of the hill to keep the high ground and to truly turn the sky into a storm of arrows and death.
The skaven rat horde was massing on the opposite end of the plateau, they were truly gruesome and vile. His heart hardened as he searched their ranks with his keen vision for the one he had hated for so long, the one he yearned to find, the foul rat warlord the Headtaker. Though he could not see nor feel his mortal enemies’ presence, he knew he would one day as slaying their treacherous race would be plenty for now.
Althran turned to Cleriam, his trusted bodyguard and said “so it begins ..."
Althran then strode his horse a few paces ahead gaining the full view from his fellow elves.
He spurred Elothinar into the air and shouted "For Ulthuan!"
This was followed by a loud and thunderous cheer from his troops as they halted their advance.
The Elven Soldiers then notched arrows to their bows in complete unison as captain Sicandric shouted to make ready.
With a nod of Althrans head, the young noble stepped forward with the banner and shouted "send them back to the depths from which they came...Loose Arrows!"
Prince Althrans smirk from the arrows flying high into the air quickly left him as his officers shouted in unison to the massive cannon blasts in the distance....."Hold firm !!!"
White Flame was what his swordmaster guardians called him, and was all he could hear as they chanted it in glory to the massive white flames that engulfed the charging rats. The flames of the phoenix was a devastating spell from what the high elven loremasters called True magic.
The rats disgusted him and Dethadrin was intent on cleansing their filth from the field, as he watched the diseased bubbles that covered their bodies burst from the scorching flames that ignited their cloaks.
He paused and smiled, as the enemies magical sorcerers were continuously drained by the stronger and ancient wards in the army’s standard banner.
Sicandric stood by the pennant, as he notched another arrow in unison with the regiment and made to release on the impending rat horde.
Dethadrin quickly raised his hand and signaled Sicandric to hold, as he watched prince Althran leading a mighty cavalry charge with his bodyguard at its center.
"Sicandric reinforce the princes charge, target their left flank!" he shouted, to which the Young noble gave a quick nod.
“Target the left Flank!” the young captain shouted to his officers, while the massive Seaguard formation, which covered the center battle line, shifted their bows and took aim.
“Loose Arrows!” Was the next command echoed by the Sicandric as Dethadrin swirled a magical spell of blessing in his hands.
As the arrows flew his spell erupted in a florescent golden shockwave, which guided the arrows with devastating accuracy.
The elven cavalry slammed their deadly lances into the vermin horde, as the white fletched arrows from their brethren came in perfect unison.
The charge cut deep into the enemy lines as the arrows wounded the front ranks of the rat formation.
The route was almost immediate as their disease ridden captain was trampled under the mighty hooves of the Asur cavalry.
Their lines were broken and victory was at hand…yet something spoke to Althran. He could not understand the faint and ever so quiet voice, however his thoughts vengefully turned towards the foul rat sorcerer that desperately tried to overcome Dethadrins deadly spells at the elven center.
With this thought Althran turned his cavalry back to reinforce the center, and to kill the sorcerer.
Things did not happen as the prince had planned, the center met the rat horde with a deadly phalanx of shields and sleek spear points.
His cavalry took heavy losses to artillery as they attempted to reinforce the army’s center. A foul tactical error on his part as the sorcerer had proved to be strong and difficult to find in the magical shadow realm where death magic drew its energy from.
The battle raged as neither side gave ground while suffering heavy casualties. Giant mutated creatures were brought down by arrows as Dethadrin burned entire regiments to the ground, yet the rats continued forward. Their massive numbers and odd creations took many Asur brothers with them once they met in close quarters.
What started as a massive engagement dwindled to light skirmishes and then to further and further mid ranged projectile encounters as both sides became defensive.
The elven battalion moved out of cannon range as eagle claw bolt throwers loosed hails of bolts over the Asur formations.
Cleriam rode up with the remaining dragon prince bodyguard, many were taken from the enemies artillery onslaught.
"My prince, do we make for the city of Copher?" The drake master asked as he slowed his steed to a stop.
Althran gazed as the skaven horde marched north and showed no sign of wanting another encounter.
“We have lost much of our strength.” Althran replied, as he silently paused in thought.
They had killed much yet not enough to limit their casualties. A feeling of guilt rose within him as he began to blame himself for his lack of control.
He had known those cannons should have been eliminated in his charging fury. But the pendant … It whispered to him, his lust for vengeance took control and he tried his best to kill the foul grey seer rat that unleashed such power.
He cursed again and spurred Elothinar forward as he answered "we make for Copher, move out"!
--------------------------
Prologue Part 2
He breathed deep in the cool night air as drops of sweat came down his forehead, the nightmares were vivid tonight.
Calehir’Thalui was a prince of Caledor, a kingdom famed for riding mythical dragons into combat for the armies of Ulthuan. Though their age had passed as the dragons slowly fell into an endless slumber of dreams few knew of.
Since the prince began studying the dark lore of Death Magic, his nightmares seemed to turn worse. Ever since his fathers death during his youth, he had studied the winds of magic, True Magic in particular for a large part of his training.
Yet with the recent death of his dragon, who was both his friend and mentor… he lost faith in its power to keep those he cared for alive.
He looked elsewhere for a power to attain revenge on the foul undead skeleton armies, which were led by kings long dead and coming from realms long forgotten.
The tomb king who hailed from the southern deserts of Araby, had engaged them on the Eastern plains from the city of Copher. His power was devastating.
Massive boulders and dark magic had taken his dragons life during the battle along with many Asur. A full route was avoided by the bravery of Daherais Arhain, a trusted commander who decided to lead a cavalry counter charge in order to allow the remaining elven forces to regroup. Daherais was slain by the undead king during his glorious charge which delayed the undead armies and saved many, including his younger brother Elandrel.
This is where Calehir found his link to the power he seeked as the Arhain family contained a traditional practice in the deadly death magic from the shadow world.
Together they studied dark spells as Elandrels bloodline began to show its true power from the fuel of vengeance. The mage gained tremendous power as Calehir did his best to keep up to the clearly more magically attuned brother.
Soon they would meet the undead king again, very soon.
The prince laid back on the soft feathers of his mighty Griffon who he had named Khaine. He spite'd the gods for leaving him such a dark hole to live with and found looking to the death god a comforting thought.
The Griffon was a gift from Prince Ithenias or more known as the Warden of Copher.
Though defeated by the undead army, the engagement weakened the enemy enough to prevent a siege of the city itself, and for this he was rewarded for his sacrifice.
Calehirs’ bond to Khaine was growing daily as they would occasionally fly high into the northern mountains and ride the wind currents for hours on end.
The griffon also gave the prince some measure of peace in the night as he found sleep came easier with Khaine nearby.
The Prince’s eyes slowly closed as he viewed the city of Copher from a high ridge on the northern mountains. He had found a large cave in the side of the cliff that could comfortably fit the two of them with a small fire when needed. This is where he collected his thoughts this is where he escaped to clear his mind.
--------------------------
Prologue Part 3
The sun's heat bore down on the ancient chariots that raced along the fracture of what was left of the plains in Tiranoc. Three soaring eagles watched with keen interest as the five chariots attempted to keep up with their noble lord Prince Toran or more known as the Wind Rider.
Clad in golden dragon plate armor, which was engraved with a royal purple scroll work that bestowed his title and bloodline. He truly fit the image of a great prince, as dark blue robes flowed underneath his golden dragon scales. This was followed with a dark blue tassel, which streaked through the wind from his tall golden helm.
He raced his chariot with a grace that could only be attained over a thousand years of practice and mastery. The wind was what he loved most; the cold and fresh coastal currents coming in from the west filled him with memories of glories past and to come, as he led his escort on a rampage across the plains in the golden sun.
The great Tor’an Roc watch tower loomed in the distance to his left, as prince Toran scanned the horizon and became lost in a magical daze, the horizon would swell for only a brief second before seemingly coming back to its normal state. He raised his hand for a general halt, which took only a few seconds as the escorts mastery of their chariots were second to none other then the noble lords who led them.
Norein Delosir watched her lord gaze into the distance, as the gem that hung from his neck pulsed with a magical flow of faint colors and slow swirling energies. In fact there were two talismans on golden links that hung from his neck and to the side of his plated chest; gifts from the mighty White Tower of Hoeth.
The tower was the magical learning center for the mages of Ulthuan and its surrounding forrest was the home of the famed and skilled Swordmasters.
Norein was aware that her Prince had studied the teachings of life magic at the tower and had become attuned with the wind that he loved so, and the earthly plains that he rode. These energies spoke to him and their energies flowed all around them.
The company sat in silence as they all knew to well that to interrupt their princes concentration, would bring grave consequences.
Norein glanced over to the young noble, Fornas Satuin who shrugged his shoulder plates with a smirk that showed a hint of mischief. He was a brave but over zealous noblemans son who dreamed of glory, and had the skill to achieve it, if he could control his passion.
Fornas's dark blue cloak snapped in the occasional gusts of wind, as he ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. His right arm gripped his golden helm to his side, which gave him a truly heroic look.
The gauntlets he wore were truly remarkable, bestowed with ward gems of protection that could save him from a fatal blow.
Noreins armor came to sharp points, where as Fornas' were rounded. Her shield was an ancient family heirloom from when her noble bloodline was joined with that of a Caledorian nobleman.
The shield had dark red dragon scales with a red ruby encrusted at its center, her spear was always close and her long sword was slung across her back.
She had grown up with the prince, which seemed to have been only a few decades past. This however she knew was not so, as the many battles that she followed prince Toran would never leave her. Each left their marks of glory and sorrow.
She had seen much, sometimes far too much that she cared to remember. Though for her memories, Norein was still fairly young compared to many and had served a life of protecting her mighty prince and would continue to do so until death.
He held her heart though if he knew such, she was not sure. She loved what he represented, how he led his men and his prowess in battle was truly inspiring. His smile brought a warmth to her heart that she could not explain. She was his trusted friend and second in command.
Prince Toran slowly picked up the reins to his chariot and turned to them.
"Something is amiss; the magical currents do not run in their normal course… They are manipulated and the horizon gives me an uneasy feeling… back to camp!" With that he raced his chariot ahead with a light flick of the reins, as he gently spoke to his horses.
The chariots followed the wide curve that brought them back the way they had come, and towards the elven camp where the rest of the battalion awaited.
.