The Bard's song: Stories of Tanaephis
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Grimbold
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The Bard's song: Stories of Tanaephis
The foreign bard sits down next to the fireplace and begins to speak:
-
Grimbold
- Moderator
- Posts: 10309
- Location: Austria
- Title: Professor
- User Class: Scholar
Eyeball the horrible
743 a. Neinnes, somewhere in the plains of Kiine Maude'¦
The rider advanced with the step. He had heard of the village. Thriving, located in full heart of the plains of the center. Sometimes, the Derigion empire had good. The citizens had confidence in their power. In the middle of the empire, nothing could arrive to them, thought. And some share, it was a little true.
***
- I was informed by it this morning'¦ It is called Eyeball. It is a powerful Weapon, very dangerous'¦ Completely unstable, sadistic and mighty'¦
***
The rider continued to advance his horse. The weather was hot this morning, and it cooked in his armour, especially made for him. Around, the fields undulated with the sandstone of the breeze of summer. At his side, the Weapon started to vibrate of excitation'¦
***
-'¦ her Bearers are only puppets between his hands. Toys which one throws when they are out of use. It keeps control almost all the time'¦ Most atrocious, it is that she likes to play'¦ she plays with death'¦
***
He entered village weapon in his fist. His objectives were not any doubt. Those which tried to flee did not get far.
He put in row the women and the children of the village. The men, them, did not have this privilege. They had already died. Some instantly, they were lucky'¦
It made distribute to each child a weapon: knife, stone or stick. And he announced the rules of the game: There would be only one survivor, and this one would have the safe life. Others'¦
For each kid who refused the play or was too afraid, it killed initially the mother, then the child.
And they looked impotently at their sons and their daughters ready to commit suicide'¦ And the Weapon laughed, laughed internally, because it knew that it had lied.
There would be no survivor'¦
There was no message, no reason to do that. It was purely free. It was her pleasure. Pleasure of a god.
And her Bearer, impotent, cursed his Weapon and what it had become.
When it left the village, this one was nothing any more but ashes. And Eyeball was going to continue'¦
***
-'¦ and it does not leave any survivor behind it. This Weapon is a monster. It is necessary that you find it. Its trace is not difficult to follow'¦ IT is time to intervene.
***
The armour clicked when it went down from horse, Eyeball to the hand. The small village or it was counted approximately 150 hearts'¦ And they had obviously had wind of his arrival, as attested it the closed shutters, the closed doors and the score of peasants armed with forks and forgeries which awaited it in the middle of the village. The insane ones'¦
This time, it would not make in lace. A blood bath, here what that would be.
It was thrown in the fray'¦
The villagers fell the ones after the others around Eyeball and of his Bearer, circling and slicing in the bodies and the members like a virtuoso of death. Their impromptu weapons did not even stripe his armour'¦ The doors started to open and the women were going to help their husbands'¦ The Bearer had a smile'¦
It put quickly fine at the combat. The peasants all died or dying, and the remainder of the village, women, children and old men in majority, surrounded it, struck stupor, all trembling of fear.
All except one'¦
A fair young man had sat on a bag of straw, and right in the eyes looked at it, of an air of challenge, almost threatening. He had not moved of all the combat.
The Bearer approached, throwing all the same to the glance with dimensions of the young man. No Weapon, no armour.
He had seen some like him, which had just lost a relative and which wanted only one, to insert his blade in the heart of the Bearer, to appease a right revenge. These individuals did not have any more any common direction, lost any logic and did not hesitate to attack a Bearer'¦ even without weapon!
Eyeball adored to play with these people.
It approached and placed the blade of his Weapon under his throat. It always defied it glance. The Bearer of Eyeball, always under control, had a carnivorous smile'¦
- Then small one, you want to kill me?
The young man was too fast. One second before, he was sitting. The second after he was next to the Bearer. With his right hand, he held the arm which carried Eyeball, and with the left, he enclosed his throat. He had preserved his air of challenge'¦
The Bearer had a small surprised air when with a blow of knee, the young man broke his armour, crushed his internal bodies and crushed his spinal column.
He was lowered softly on the ground.
The young man recovered the Weapon and turned over towards the villagers, who looked at it with this glimmer of hope, that one can see in the eyes of those which have just escaped death.
Some already started to acclaim their saver.
His words fell like a chopper:
- I am sorry'¦
***
The fair young man left the village in ash, Eyeball in his luggage. The voyage until Nerolazarevskaya lasted two weeks. And there'¦
- It is done?
- Yes.
- No witnesses?
- Not.
- Show it to me'¦
- Hold.
- Perfect. It is exactly the kind of Weapon which we need. We should draw a handsome price from them'¦
The rider advanced with the step. He had heard of the village. Thriving, located in full heart of the plains of the center. Sometimes, the Derigion empire had good. The citizens had confidence in their power. In the middle of the empire, nothing could arrive to them, thought. And some share, it was a little true.
***
- I was informed by it this morning'¦ It is called Eyeball. It is a powerful Weapon, very dangerous'¦ Completely unstable, sadistic and mighty'¦
***
The rider continued to advance his horse. The weather was hot this morning, and it cooked in his armour, especially made for him. Around, the fields undulated with the sandstone of the breeze of summer. At his side, the Weapon started to vibrate of excitation'¦
***
-'¦ her Bearers are only puppets between his hands. Toys which one throws when they are out of use. It keeps control almost all the time'¦ Most atrocious, it is that she likes to play'¦ she plays with death'¦
***
He entered village weapon in his fist. His objectives were not any doubt. Those which tried to flee did not get far.
He put in row the women and the children of the village. The men, them, did not have this privilege. They had already died. Some instantly, they were lucky'¦
It made distribute to each child a weapon: knife, stone or stick. And he announced the rules of the game: There would be only one survivor, and this one would have the safe life. Others'¦
For each kid who refused the play or was too afraid, it killed initially the mother, then the child.
And they looked impotently at their sons and their daughters ready to commit suicide'¦ And the Weapon laughed, laughed internally, because it knew that it had lied.
There would be no survivor'¦
There was no message, no reason to do that. It was purely free. It was her pleasure. Pleasure of a god.
And her Bearer, impotent, cursed his Weapon and what it had become.
When it left the village, this one was nothing any more but ashes. And Eyeball was going to continue'¦
***
-'¦ and it does not leave any survivor behind it. This Weapon is a monster. It is necessary that you find it. Its trace is not difficult to follow'¦ IT is time to intervene.
***
The armour clicked when it went down from horse, Eyeball to the hand. The small village or it was counted approximately 150 hearts'¦ And they had obviously had wind of his arrival, as attested it the closed shutters, the closed doors and the score of peasants armed with forks and forgeries which awaited it in the middle of the village. The insane ones'¦
This time, it would not make in lace. A blood bath, here what that would be.
It was thrown in the fray'¦
The villagers fell the ones after the others around Eyeball and of his Bearer, circling and slicing in the bodies and the members like a virtuoso of death. Their impromptu weapons did not even stripe his armour'¦ The doors started to open and the women were going to help their husbands'¦ The Bearer had a smile'¦
It put quickly fine at the combat. The peasants all died or dying, and the remainder of the village, women, children and old men in majority, surrounded it, struck stupor, all trembling of fear.
All except one'¦
A fair young man had sat on a bag of straw, and right in the eyes looked at it, of an air of challenge, almost threatening. He had not moved of all the combat.
The Bearer approached, throwing all the same to the glance with dimensions of the young man. No Weapon, no armour.
He had seen some like him, which had just lost a relative and which wanted only one, to insert his blade in the heart of the Bearer, to appease a right revenge. These individuals did not have any more any common direction, lost any logic and did not hesitate to attack a Bearer'¦ even without weapon!
Eyeball adored to play with these people.
It approached and placed the blade of his Weapon under his throat. It always defied it glance. The Bearer of Eyeball, always under control, had a carnivorous smile'¦
- Then small one, you want to kill me?
The young man was too fast. One second before, he was sitting. The second after he was next to the Bearer. With his right hand, he held the arm which carried Eyeball, and with the left, he enclosed his throat. He had preserved his air of challenge'¦
The Bearer had a small surprised air when with a blow of knee, the young man broke his armour, crushed his internal bodies and crushed his spinal column.
He was lowered softly on the ground.
The young man recovered the Weapon and turned over towards the villagers, who looked at it with this glimmer of hope, that one can see in the eyes of those which have just escaped death.
Some already started to acclaim their saver.
His words fell like a chopper:
- I am sorry'¦
***
The fair young man left the village in ash, Eyeball in his luggage. The voyage until Nerolazarevskaya lasted two weeks. And there'¦
- It is done?
- Yes.
- No witnesses?
- Not.
- Show it to me'¦
- Hold.
- Perfect. It is exactly the kind of Weapon which we need. We should draw a handsome price from them'¦
Last edited by Grimbold on Fri Jan 23, 2009 2:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
Grimbold
- Moderator
- Posts: 10309
- Location: Austria
- Title: Professor
- User Class: Scholar
Re: The Bard's song: Stories of Tanaephis
The last charge
The chagars were irritated, the men too. Oephis and Taamish which trônaient in the sky were not foreign there and this month of the war would be like different the, bloody one.
Orgund Thomason gathered its men under the first rays of the suns, the battle would start at dawn, it was necessary to make quickly and be ready. Under the orders of Sturmfeild, the unit piorad taken position on the peak, advancing with the slow step of the chagars, maintaining the rows tightened to the maximum, controlling the aggressiveness of their mountings.
The warriors were agitated them as, sure of their chief, their chagars and the iron of their axes, but sure as blood would run on a side like other. They were not afraid, but they knew that in this day much would not return; because vis-a-vis them would place itself in a few minutes, the most fabulous unit of heavy of any Taneaphis, famous cavalry inarretable, the heavy riders vorozions.
But today the victory was the only option, under the hard masks of the faces, there was the weight of the families, the women, the children, the old men remained at the village with some polacs from here, who would be violated, massacred, condemned to serfdom for debt if the warriors piorads were not with the height.
They were a unit of heavy cavalry piorad, the power in a pure state, the largest conquerors that Taneaphis carried, they were going to carry the victory and would dance on the corpses of their enemies.
The men were already ready since good before the day, preparing the combat to come with a precision from metronomes, to clean the weapons, briquer the armours, to charge the destriers, in each slow gesture and meticulous each one saw the battle being held under its eyes.
These men were vorozions and soldiers, in the most destroying unit of any Taneaphis; nothing resists a load of heavy cavalry vorozion, it is a known fact of all. However, today, the victory would have a bitter taste, because the barbarians of north sell their skin dearly, and of many young people and valiant soldiers will perish in this day.
Since decades these barbarians came to plunder their grounds, to rape their wives and to kill their children; all the warriors present had in them the history of a cousin, a friend, of a father, who one day of mourning had been on the road of the piorads.
For these men who act of war their trade, hatred is a faithful partner, it hold hot the night, it raises the arm and the sword when any force disappeared; it thus should be cherished, to preserve it, and at a few moments of the battle one could see it burning in the glance of the riders.
Etincelants like a thousand of stars, the unit of vorozions under the clear order of the aegicius set up of the same step, the tinkling of the armours, the raucous breath of the heavily protected destriers, noises and familiar odors, the load was going to be launched.
The maintained chagars with end of arm by their powerful riders are suddenly slackened and are thrown ahead in an extraordinary, avid jump of fresh flesh.
The thunder seems to thunder under the blows of shoes, the ground trembles so much so that it appears to tear, it is soon the hour when the true face of the men appears, where each one is found only vis-a-vis itself, vis-a-vis the wild horde which charges it and where each one fact what must be made.
Cries of rage, howlings, howls of the piorads are not that as many attempts at intimidations running up against the well regulated mechanics of the soldiers vorozions who in an overall epic perfect lower their lances and tighten their legs around their proud destriers, ready to absorb the impact.
The shock is of an incredible violence, the flesh and metal tear, the bodies howl, blood squirts of all shares, death grinds, has fun, and finally striking on these unhappy puppets of flesh.
The piorads fought like mad lions, they carried their victory, but they will not dance on the bodies of their enemies, not this evening, because there is nobody any more to dance. Death with fact its great harvest, some vorozions survived, but not enough to continue to the village, they will set out again, join large troops with the back; if they escape from predatory and the chagars.
Tomorrow perhaps they will return, more numerous, the young soldiers do not miss in the empire. When to the piorads, certain children will become men tomorrow, forged in the blood and the death of their fathers and their brothers who gave their life in a last load.
The chagars were irritated, the men too. Oephis and Taamish which trônaient in the sky were not foreign there and this month of the war would be like different the, bloody one.
Orgund Thomason gathered its men under the first rays of the suns, the battle would start at dawn, it was necessary to make quickly and be ready. Under the orders of Sturmfeild, the unit piorad taken position on the peak, advancing with the slow step of the chagars, maintaining the rows tightened to the maximum, controlling the aggressiveness of their mountings.
The warriors were agitated them as, sure of their chief, their chagars and the iron of their axes, but sure as blood would run on a side like other. They were not afraid, but they knew that in this day much would not return; because vis-a-vis them would place itself in a few minutes, the most fabulous unit of heavy of any Taneaphis, famous cavalry inarretable, the heavy riders vorozions.
But today the victory was the only option, under the hard masks of the faces, there was the weight of the families, the women, the children, the old men remained at the village with some polacs from here, who would be violated, massacred, condemned to serfdom for debt if the warriors piorads were not with the height.
They were a unit of heavy cavalry piorad, the power in a pure state, the largest conquerors that Taneaphis carried, they were going to carry the victory and would dance on the corpses of their enemies.
The men were already ready since good before the day, preparing the combat to come with a precision from metronomes, to clean the weapons, briquer the armours, to charge the destriers, in each slow gesture and meticulous each one saw the battle being held under its eyes.
These men were vorozions and soldiers, in the most destroying unit of any Taneaphis; nothing resists a load of heavy cavalry vorozion, it is a known fact of all. However, today, the victory would have a bitter taste, because the barbarians of north sell their skin dearly, and of many young people and valiant soldiers will perish in this day.
Since decades these barbarians came to plunder their grounds, to rape their wives and to kill their children; all the warriors present had in them the history of a cousin, a friend, of a father, who one day of mourning had been on the road of the piorads.
For these men who act of war their trade, hatred is a faithful partner, it hold hot the night, it raises the arm and the sword when any force disappeared; it thus should be cherished, to preserve it, and at a few moments of the battle one could see it burning in the glance of the riders.
Etincelants like a thousand of stars, the unit of vorozions under the clear order of the aegicius set up of the same step, the tinkling of the armours, the raucous breath of the heavily protected destriers, noises and familiar odors, the load was going to be launched.
The maintained chagars with end of arm by their powerful riders are suddenly slackened and are thrown ahead in an extraordinary, avid jump of fresh flesh.
The thunder seems to thunder under the blows of shoes, the ground trembles so much so that it appears to tear, it is soon the hour when the true face of the men appears, where each one is found only vis-a-vis itself, vis-a-vis the wild horde which charges it and where each one fact what must be made.
Cries of rage, howlings, howls of the piorads are not that as many attempts at intimidations running up against the well regulated mechanics of the soldiers vorozions who in an overall epic perfect lower their lances and tighten their legs around their proud destriers, ready to absorb the impact.
The shock is of an incredible violence, the flesh and metal tear, the bodies howl, blood squirts of all shares, death grinds, has fun, and finally striking on these unhappy puppets of flesh.
The piorads fought like mad lions, they carried their victory, but they will not dance on the bodies of their enemies, not this evening, because there is nobody any more to dance. Death with fact its great harvest, some vorozions survived, but not enough to continue to the village, they will set out again, join large troops with the back; if they escape from predatory and the chagars.
Tomorrow perhaps they will return, more numerous, the young soldiers do not miss in the empire. When to the piorads, certain children will become men tomorrow, forged in the blood and the death of their fathers and their brothers who gave their life in a last load.