Designed by Narva
Solo: Not Recommended
Small Groups: 27+
Large Groups: 24+ for xp, HEROs and high level multiclass for the eq
"Ye see anything yet?" A grizzled soldier dressed in a plain uniform
asked, looking out small holes in the front gate of the Fort. A second
soldier with a slashed and puffy face grimly shook his head. "You're new
to the Fort arent ye boy?" The first questioned gruffly. The second slowly
nodded, not taking his eyes off the gate.
The second, a young man of nineteen, had just came out from the
field to help guard the Fort, though none seemed to think it would need
guarding. Kalata had utterly defeated Rashkal on the fields of battle, and
very few believed he would be back. But this youth named Eman firmly
believed that Rashkal would make his return sooner or later.
Many hours passed and another soldier came to replace Eman. Now
off duty, Eman moved quickly through the halls of the Fort to the
Courtyard. Entering the underground levels, he made his way to the Practice
Grounds, thinking that he would get some help in swordsmanship before he
got his dinner and turned in for the night.
After getting to the Practice Grounds, he quickly noticed many of
the soldiers and gladiators crowding around in a large circle. Eman forced
his way to the front to see what the occasion was. The occasion was quite
simple: two of the most powerful men in the Fort were sparring. Eman
recognized them almost immediately: Kaid, master thief of the Fort, was
squaring off against Queto, undisputed warrior extreme.
Kaid slowly drew his dagger, a shinning blade that almost blinded
the eye, and Queto grimly withdrew a extremely large sword, wielding it
easily with one hand where most of the most powerful warriors of the land
would use two. The two combatants circled each other carefully, eyeing
each other with caution. Kaid struck first, using his magically enhanced
dagger and shroud to make him almost impossible to follow. Queto grunted
and took the blow easily, adding his own gigantic counter to the attack,
which was immediately ducked by the nimble thief.
Eman watched, mesmerized as these two heroes of the Fort underwent
their daily practice. They used skills that literally astounded him,
boggling his mind with the complexity at which they performed their
attacks and defenses. As usual, the match came out at a draw, the small
thief unable to get close enough to the large warrior to use his blinding
dagger, and Queto being too slow to catch Kaid off guard. After the
fight, the on-lookers gradually dispersed to their own practices, and things
began to settle back down in the Fort.
Spending very little time practicing, Eman wasted no time in getting
his meal and headed for his cot. On the way to his bed he saw Kalata, the
leader of the Fort, walking with many of his generals. To Eman it appeared
that most had thoughtful and worried expressions upon their faces.
Shrugging it off as problems of leadership, Eman hurried on toward his
Screams and shouts from the lower levels awoke the young warrior
from a dead sleep. Belting on his armor and sword, he quickly ran outside
to see that dark shadows were moving in and out of the candlelight. A man
dressed in black came screaming out of one of the shadows, holding his
sword high and preparing to strike Eman down where he stood. Deftly
side-stepping the other's downward slash, Eman whipped his sword from its
sheath and cut the man down. Just as he turned around, another screaming
warrior ran at him, just as intent on ending his life then and there.
Kicking the man full in the face, the young warrior of the Fort ran his
sword through the other reeling warrior.
Through the course of the battle Eman killed many, using all the
skills he had learned from the battlefield and practices to easily defeat
most opponents he went against. Soon however, a large squadron of enemy
soldiers engulfed him, and smartly rapped him on the top of his helmet,
sending him down in an unconscious heap.
When he awoke he found himself surrounded by impossibly large men,
almost as large as the infamous Queto. One man in particular struck dread
into his very heart. Clothed all in black and eyes as red as the blood
moon, Rashkal slowly advanced upon the quivering Eman.
"You are skilled, young warrior" he said in a quiet, dreadful
voice. "I have a use for you, and you will serve me to the end of your
days." Those were the last words that the human heard before his skin
started to burn and his limbs began to grow. Terrified, Eman looked down
at his body and watched as his skin turned to stone and he became larger
than even the great warrior Queto. Eman raised his face toward the stone
ceiling and gave a great cry of immortal longing and pain, wondering what
he had done to the gods to make him deserve such a fate. That was the last
thought the now-golem had before a force so great that it staggered even
the imagination overtook his mind. "You are mine, you are mine, you are
mine," a voice whispered over and over in his head. The awesome stone
figure turned his head slowly, listening as the stone of his body ground
together and moved. On the left of him sat a huge man covered in gleaming
armor, and on his right a man with a bright white shroud that seemed to
dissapear even as he looked at it. Then the giant looked before him, over
the head of Rashkal, to see a bloodied and torn figure huddled on the
ground, staring around with baleful eyes filled with hate. Brief
compassion and pity ran through the now miniscule mind of the brute, but
it was quickly over-run by the darkness invading its thoughts.
Copyright © 1992-2018 Medievia.com, Inc.
All Rights Reserved.
For more information contact: Webmistress: Soleil