Post by Beowulf on Jul 16, 2007 22:00:35 GMT -5
The Slaughter of Stonegate
By Galathan
“This spot. This spot is the rock in which the tide breaks. This is where our shields shatter the wave of tyrannical men. This spot is, here, is where we stand now and it is this spot where we will be standing at the end of all things. This is where we plant our feet into the God’s good earth and fortify our very souls against the bleating neighs of those who would dare try and stop us. This is where we hold!”
The deafening clang of weapons banging on shields, shields banging on shields, weapons banging on walls, and shouts of all-consuming triumphant glory filled the inner sanctum of Stonegate, echoing off of the hollow stone walls. One would never have suspected the heavily armed men and women to have valued the scholarly ways foremost over the way of warriors; scribes, students, alchemists, lawmen, observers of magic all. A thick row of steady-handed shields blocked the narrow passageway leading into the main chamber of the large keep, flanked on all sides by long spears and freshly sharpened swords. The scholars’ weapons reflected the pristine craft in such a way that only true scholars could. The thin passage was lined with murder holes, small spaces between the set stones of the walls, each with a spear or arrow poised, ready to strike out like a coiled snake into the hallway. Behind the blue-clad phalanx, a small number of men ground strangely grayish ash-like contents in their mortars, breaking the granules down into a fine powder and mixing it with a clear liquid, turning it murky, milky pink in color and very volatile.
“These princes and knights want to stop us from doing what they have the courage not to do. They want to destroy us because they do not possess the strength to do what we have to do. They seek to humble us before the Gods because they themselves have been found lacking in the eyes of the true Judges. What we do here today will save an incalculable amount of life. These regals and royals would stop us for minor infractions. They would stop us because of innocent blood. But, oh brothers and sisters of my dear homeland, we fight for the greatest good imaginable. We fight to save our families, their families, and their families and so on for infinity. This will be the day that the people of the world will remember us for standing against those who would rob them of their lives through their own inactions, in-fighting, and indecision. These men may hail from the royal cities on the mainland, but that does not make them right when it comes to the concerns of ethics. It is us, here and now, who will defy them and do the Gods’ true work and bring about an age of peace that will be welcomed with open arms by all.” Richard’s voice echoed boomingly across the barren halls. Not a whisper or a murmur came from the soldier scholars as he spoke.
“Brothers and sisters, who are we?!”
“We are Moonglow!” Hoots and hollers rang out, followed by another round of shield and weapon clashing. The roars were so loud that the floor shook with pent up excitement and exuberance for the forthcoming trials.
Torchlight played across Galathan’s face as he waited near the base of the stairs for the end of Richard’s rousing speech. Richard’s speeches were always rousing, and he was very well admired for his ability. The lines and contours of the handsome man’s face showed that he did not get caught up in the emotion of the momentous event unfolding. He ran his fingers through his blond locks of hair, waiting for Richard.
“And this day is the day that we show the mainland royalty just what it means to be from Moonglow!” Cries and shouts, chants and salutes. Richard turned, with a flourish, leaving the morale high for the scholar soldiers. Spears and swords thrust into the air like dancing marionettes triumphantly. Richard’s wide smile waned as he approached Galathan. It was time to get to business.
“What did you spot from up top?”
“Not the best odds we ever had.” The blond man replied matter-of-factly. He absently ran his fingers through his hair again. Richard nodded. “I’d say eighty to one, maybe, if we’re lucky. I honestly couldn’t count them all because their marching line wrapped around the south mountain pass, out of view. Taking this spot here and holding it is the only way we can buy time for Lord Greypawn to complete the ritual. I must say, though: in spite of our enemy being real, hardened professional soldiers, knights, royalty, with real weapons and armor, the cheering from within these walls would shake even the most stalwart. The morale is high here, which means a good fight, no matter what the odds.”
Richard nodded again in agreement. “We all have come a long ways from being a small-time puny town militia. I honestly never thought that we would have lived through the open-field battle against the Order of the Ebon Skull. They actually had horses and light cavalry. We were lucky to find weapons to fight with. When it comes right down to it, it’s not the weapons that make the soldier, but the fire inside. I would trust all of these soldiers with my life.”
“I would, too. But we should remain realistic. We have to assume that we are all going to die. The odds are just too greatly stacked against us. We need a backup plan to make sure that the ritual chamber is not breached incase we fail in this spot for whatever reason.” Galathan ran his fingers through his hair once more, a stray lock falling out of place. The ground gave periodic jumps like miniature earthquakes. “And we better figure one out fast. It wont be long until they are upon the ramparts.”
“Aye, but with forty men, we need them all to hold this area. This is the most critical and strategic spot. We pile their dead from floor to ceiling as they come and block their advances. There are no other routes to the ritual chamber. There are no other paths. They will have to come through here.” Richard jabbed the floor with the end of his spear and hefted his shield chest high, the blue star of Moonglow glimmering against the black metal. “We don’t have time to rethink this. I have made my decision and we will stand here.”
Galathan nodded, not entirely enthusiastic. “As you wish.” Galathan saluted Captain Richard and ran back up the stairs. Dashing through several darkened corridors and empty haunted halls, he made his way to the highest point in the keep. They were coming.
The sky was overcast, grey, dreary. Typical for the Northern Tundra. The frozen island far to the north of all things was not the most hospitable place in the world, but someone saw fit to erect a holy sanctuary in ancient times on it. The wind chilled Galathan’s face, the tip of his nose going numb and red. Mountains surrounded the north, east, and west sides of the keep. If there ever was a better position to defend, Galathan would have loved to see it. The mountains were sheer slopes and icy cliffs. Impassable by the individual, and completely impossible for an army. No caves, no tunnels. Only one way in and one way out. That was both a great advantage and a terrible, terrible disadvantage. There would be no escaping from this.
Bright gold and white banners dotted the single ice-covered path to the keep. The fleetingly rare and weak rays of sunlight that managed to pierce the grey bounced off of glimmering platemail and scaled horse barding. Rows upon rows of lances, pikes, halberds, spears, and other panalopy of war approached like the monstrous, unstoppable wave of a tsunami; slow and hell-bent on destruction, devouring all in its path. There really would be no escaping from this.
Galathan counted and then counted again. Seven. Seven units of men-at-arms followed by two units of mounted heavy cavalry. Spearmen followed close behind with a General’s-guard unit behind that. Galathan was not sure what the point of the cavalry was. This was not going to be a field battle. The men and women of Moonglow may have planted their roots firmly in the styles of militia combat, far from being professionally born and bred soldiers or nobility, but they were not stupid enough to take forty men against thousands in the open. If anything, the militia specialized in this form of combat. Neutralize all numerical advantages; hammer and anvil. The soldiers at the end of the hall were the anvil and the men manning the murder holes were the hammer, driving the Regent forces hard into the anvil, flattening them, crushing them, utterly destroying them. Several more units of men-at-arms were rounding the bend around the south mountain, followed by armored sergeants. It was going to be a long day.
Galathan ran his gloved hand along the stone surface of the battlement overlooking the south wall of the keep. It, like almost everything else, was covered in a layer of dense ice. The ice glistened beautifully in spite of the dreary grey of the sky hiding the sun that shone so gloriously off of the coast of Moonglow. Long, conical spirals of crystalline frozen water hung like suspended pillars from the top-most towers. They looked larger around than a man. The mammoth icicles bent and curved in a wild, suspended vortex around the towers, ending at their bases and forming one gargantuan frozen mass. A wild gust of wind pushed snow off of the western mountain, sending it sprinkling down over the keep like millions of impossibly tiny stars. Galathan tugged his black cloak tighter around himself. He was glad that he wasn't wearing metal armor. That would have been a big mistake.
Each forced step from the onward marching regals sent a thundering shock through the ground. It barely looked like the southern pass could even hold the weight of such a force. It was doubtful that the original architects of Stonegate ever intended for it to need an army. If the cliff-side cracked, an avalanche would ensue and the entire Regent army would go tumbling down with it. That would save a lot of trouble for everybody. But who ever gets that lucky?
"Are you scared?" A small, feminine voice came from behind Galathan. That voice never failed to hang in his ears pleasantly like a gentle, warm whisper. It was feathery, delicate just like any of the incalculable dangling icicles. The words were spoken through soft lips; it could be sensed by the how the words nestled snuggly into the willing ear that receives them. He smiled, his eyes not leaving the marching formation of the princes and knights.
"Never."
"You always say that, but I don't believe you. I think everybody gets scared some time." Her voice was self-assured, but fragile as if it could shatter into a million pieces, and something truly beautiful would be lost. The smallish young lady rested her forearms against the icy rock ledge, her shoulder pressing against Galathan's arm. She smiled, too. Short, single strands of her black hair clung to her forehead as longer ones framed the sides of her face like a master painting. The greenness of her eyes stood out prominently amongst the frozen tundra like two glittering jewels. Her hair along with a spattering of freckles along her cheeks made her look something of a tom-boy, quite particularly when she wore Moonglow armor. Her shield was strung across her back.
"Well, maybe just about everybody does. But why should I be scared? I got you to protect me!" He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. Her laughter was musical and sent a certain warmth through him. The coldness of the air seemingly dissipated, or at least was forgotten.
"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around, silly. You taught me everything. You taught almost everyone here everything they know about fighting. You and Richard are truly great warriors. Honest." She moved her arm up along Galathan's back, beneath his cloak. Her hand was as warm and soft as her voice.
"Jasi, you do overstate things. If we live through this, I will never nay-say what you speak again. But since that has not yet happened, Richard is a great warrior, not me. He is the captain, not me. He leads the soldiers, not me. He is not just a truly great warrior, but a truly great man. The world is a better place because of him." Jasi knew better than to further try and press the point.
"And Lord Greypawn, too, right? Do you think that . . . this ritual . . . it will work?"
Galathan sighed, leaning heavily against the ice. He draped an arm around Jasi’s waist, pulling her close, her warm body reviving his. "Who knows? If it doesn't work, then this was all for nothing. If it does work, then everyone outside of these walls will realize that we were right all along. They will realize that our few lesser evils pale in comparison to the greater good that we will have accomplished. If there is one thing I would trust Greypawn to do, it's this ritual. I wouldn't be here otherwise. If it were anything else, I would say no way."
Icicles broke from the towers, falling like crystal daggers, and shattered into shards of razor glass upon the still whiteness of the ground. The tremors from the ever-closer army shook the keep dangerously. Jasi squeezed Galathan tightly. "I'm scared."
"I know." He squeezed her back.
Jasi clung to Galathan’s arm like a person clings to a floating piece of driftwood in the middle of a rapid river. She was going to be washed away, drowned, and her only salvation was the arm that she could hold on to. Galathan peered closer at the mass of men, nearly upon the doorstep.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” Galathan pointed to a fluttering banner of gold with feint green edges in the middle of the invading tide. At the center of the banner was the black outline of a closed fist.
“Who’s that?” Jasi, too, peered closer. Fragile snowflakes nestled themselves into her hair like delicate glass beads. She looked like a snow maiden standing watch over her frozen palace.
“The Tempestguard. Personal guards of the crowned Regent himself. Wouldn’t expect for them to be here in a place like this.” Galathan shifted slightly uneasily on his feet.
“Do you know them?” Jasi looked up at the side of Galathan’s strong jaw, which betrayed nothing.
Galathan’s inner feelings were masked by his tell-tale grin. “Know them? Of course. I trained them. The leader of the guard, Corrin, came from Moonglow, too. He studied at the great library. We, along with Richard, fought at the battle of Yew together.” Galathan pointed his gloved hand at another banner, black and white with a gold sword across it diagonally. “I expected General Vorrel, there, and his buddy from the military academy, Ellis. They are both well favored by the governing Regent.” He pointed to another banner that was just coming around the south mountain bend that was grey with a white and black bird. “But I wasn’t expecting Corrin.”
Jasi looked very uneasy. “What of them? Why should that matter?”
Galathan shook his head, his insides telling him one thing, but his mind telling him to not speak of such things. “It matters not. Just an observation is all.” He wanted to change the subject. “Do you know their weakness?”
“Always the teacher, even when facing death, huh?” Jasi’s lips curled into a smile. Her cheeks were rose-colored and kissed by the frigid cold. Specks of pure white dotted her forehead and nose.
“Just answer the question.” Galathan ran his fingers through his golden locks.
By Galathan
“This spot. This spot is the rock in which the tide breaks. This is where our shields shatter the wave of tyrannical men. This spot is, here, is where we stand now and it is this spot where we will be standing at the end of all things. This is where we plant our feet into the God’s good earth and fortify our very souls against the bleating neighs of those who would dare try and stop us. This is where we hold!”
The deafening clang of weapons banging on shields, shields banging on shields, weapons banging on walls, and shouts of all-consuming triumphant glory filled the inner sanctum of Stonegate, echoing off of the hollow stone walls. One would never have suspected the heavily armed men and women to have valued the scholarly ways foremost over the way of warriors; scribes, students, alchemists, lawmen, observers of magic all. A thick row of steady-handed shields blocked the narrow passageway leading into the main chamber of the large keep, flanked on all sides by long spears and freshly sharpened swords. The scholars’ weapons reflected the pristine craft in such a way that only true scholars could. The thin passage was lined with murder holes, small spaces between the set stones of the walls, each with a spear or arrow poised, ready to strike out like a coiled snake into the hallway. Behind the blue-clad phalanx, a small number of men ground strangely grayish ash-like contents in their mortars, breaking the granules down into a fine powder and mixing it with a clear liquid, turning it murky, milky pink in color and very volatile.
“These princes and knights want to stop us from doing what they have the courage not to do. They want to destroy us because they do not possess the strength to do what we have to do. They seek to humble us before the Gods because they themselves have been found lacking in the eyes of the true Judges. What we do here today will save an incalculable amount of life. These regals and royals would stop us for minor infractions. They would stop us because of innocent blood. But, oh brothers and sisters of my dear homeland, we fight for the greatest good imaginable. We fight to save our families, their families, and their families and so on for infinity. This will be the day that the people of the world will remember us for standing against those who would rob them of their lives through their own inactions, in-fighting, and indecision. These men may hail from the royal cities on the mainland, but that does not make them right when it comes to the concerns of ethics. It is us, here and now, who will defy them and do the Gods’ true work and bring about an age of peace that will be welcomed with open arms by all.” Richard’s voice echoed boomingly across the barren halls. Not a whisper or a murmur came from the soldier scholars as he spoke.
“Brothers and sisters, who are we?!”
“We are Moonglow!” Hoots and hollers rang out, followed by another round of shield and weapon clashing. The roars were so loud that the floor shook with pent up excitement and exuberance for the forthcoming trials.
Torchlight played across Galathan’s face as he waited near the base of the stairs for the end of Richard’s rousing speech. Richard’s speeches were always rousing, and he was very well admired for his ability. The lines and contours of the handsome man’s face showed that he did not get caught up in the emotion of the momentous event unfolding. He ran his fingers through his blond locks of hair, waiting for Richard.
“And this day is the day that we show the mainland royalty just what it means to be from Moonglow!” Cries and shouts, chants and salutes. Richard turned, with a flourish, leaving the morale high for the scholar soldiers. Spears and swords thrust into the air like dancing marionettes triumphantly. Richard’s wide smile waned as he approached Galathan. It was time to get to business.
“What did you spot from up top?”
“Not the best odds we ever had.” The blond man replied matter-of-factly. He absently ran his fingers through his hair again. Richard nodded. “I’d say eighty to one, maybe, if we’re lucky. I honestly couldn’t count them all because their marching line wrapped around the south mountain pass, out of view. Taking this spot here and holding it is the only way we can buy time for Lord Greypawn to complete the ritual. I must say, though: in spite of our enemy being real, hardened professional soldiers, knights, royalty, with real weapons and armor, the cheering from within these walls would shake even the most stalwart. The morale is high here, which means a good fight, no matter what the odds.”
Richard nodded again in agreement. “We all have come a long ways from being a small-time puny town militia. I honestly never thought that we would have lived through the open-field battle against the Order of the Ebon Skull. They actually had horses and light cavalry. We were lucky to find weapons to fight with. When it comes right down to it, it’s not the weapons that make the soldier, but the fire inside. I would trust all of these soldiers with my life.”
“I would, too. But we should remain realistic. We have to assume that we are all going to die. The odds are just too greatly stacked against us. We need a backup plan to make sure that the ritual chamber is not breached incase we fail in this spot for whatever reason.” Galathan ran his fingers through his hair once more, a stray lock falling out of place. The ground gave periodic jumps like miniature earthquakes. “And we better figure one out fast. It wont be long until they are upon the ramparts.”
“Aye, but with forty men, we need them all to hold this area. This is the most critical and strategic spot. We pile their dead from floor to ceiling as they come and block their advances. There are no other routes to the ritual chamber. There are no other paths. They will have to come through here.” Richard jabbed the floor with the end of his spear and hefted his shield chest high, the blue star of Moonglow glimmering against the black metal. “We don’t have time to rethink this. I have made my decision and we will stand here.”
Galathan nodded, not entirely enthusiastic. “As you wish.” Galathan saluted Captain Richard and ran back up the stairs. Dashing through several darkened corridors and empty haunted halls, he made his way to the highest point in the keep. They were coming.
The sky was overcast, grey, dreary. Typical for the Northern Tundra. The frozen island far to the north of all things was not the most hospitable place in the world, but someone saw fit to erect a holy sanctuary in ancient times on it. The wind chilled Galathan’s face, the tip of his nose going numb and red. Mountains surrounded the north, east, and west sides of the keep. If there ever was a better position to defend, Galathan would have loved to see it. The mountains were sheer slopes and icy cliffs. Impassable by the individual, and completely impossible for an army. No caves, no tunnels. Only one way in and one way out. That was both a great advantage and a terrible, terrible disadvantage. There would be no escaping from this.
Bright gold and white banners dotted the single ice-covered path to the keep. The fleetingly rare and weak rays of sunlight that managed to pierce the grey bounced off of glimmering platemail and scaled horse barding. Rows upon rows of lances, pikes, halberds, spears, and other panalopy of war approached like the monstrous, unstoppable wave of a tsunami; slow and hell-bent on destruction, devouring all in its path. There really would be no escaping from this.
Galathan counted and then counted again. Seven. Seven units of men-at-arms followed by two units of mounted heavy cavalry. Spearmen followed close behind with a General’s-guard unit behind that. Galathan was not sure what the point of the cavalry was. This was not going to be a field battle. The men and women of Moonglow may have planted their roots firmly in the styles of militia combat, far from being professionally born and bred soldiers or nobility, but they were not stupid enough to take forty men against thousands in the open. If anything, the militia specialized in this form of combat. Neutralize all numerical advantages; hammer and anvil. The soldiers at the end of the hall were the anvil and the men manning the murder holes were the hammer, driving the Regent forces hard into the anvil, flattening them, crushing them, utterly destroying them. Several more units of men-at-arms were rounding the bend around the south mountain, followed by armored sergeants. It was going to be a long day.
Galathan ran his gloved hand along the stone surface of the battlement overlooking the south wall of the keep. It, like almost everything else, was covered in a layer of dense ice. The ice glistened beautifully in spite of the dreary grey of the sky hiding the sun that shone so gloriously off of the coast of Moonglow. Long, conical spirals of crystalline frozen water hung like suspended pillars from the top-most towers. They looked larger around than a man. The mammoth icicles bent and curved in a wild, suspended vortex around the towers, ending at their bases and forming one gargantuan frozen mass. A wild gust of wind pushed snow off of the western mountain, sending it sprinkling down over the keep like millions of impossibly tiny stars. Galathan tugged his black cloak tighter around himself. He was glad that he wasn't wearing metal armor. That would have been a big mistake.
Each forced step from the onward marching regals sent a thundering shock through the ground. It barely looked like the southern pass could even hold the weight of such a force. It was doubtful that the original architects of Stonegate ever intended for it to need an army. If the cliff-side cracked, an avalanche would ensue and the entire Regent army would go tumbling down with it. That would save a lot of trouble for everybody. But who ever gets that lucky?
"Are you scared?" A small, feminine voice came from behind Galathan. That voice never failed to hang in his ears pleasantly like a gentle, warm whisper. It was feathery, delicate just like any of the incalculable dangling icicles. The words were spoken through soft lips; it could be sensed by the how the words nestled snuggly into the willing ear that receives them. He smiled, his eyes not leaving the marching formation of the princes and knights.
"Never."
"You always say that, but I don't believe you. I think everybody gets scared some time." Her voice was self-assured, but fragile as if it could shatter into a million pieces, and something truly beautiful would be lost. The smallish young lady rested her forearms against the icy rock ledge, her shoulder pressing against Galathan's arm. She smiled, too. Short, single strands of her black hair clung to her forehead as longer ones framed the sides of her face like a master painting. The greenness of her eyes stood out prominently amongst the frozen tundra like two glittering jewels. Her hair along with a spattering of freckles along her cheeks made her look something of a tom-boy, quite particularly when she wore Moonglow armor. Her shield was strung across her back.
"Well, maybe just about everybody does. But why should I be scared? I got you to protect me!" He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. Her laughter was musical and sent a certain warmth through him. The coldness of the air seemingly dissipated, or at least was forgotten.
"I'm pretty sure it's the other way around, silly. You taught me everything. You taught almost everyone here everything they know about fighting. You and Richard are truly great warriors. Honest." She moved her arm up along Galathan's back, beneath his cloak. Her hand was as warm and soft as her voice.
"Jasi, you do overstate things. If we live through this, I will never nay-say what you speak again. But since that has not yet happened, Richard is a great warrior, not me. He is the captain, not me. He leads the soldiers, not me. He is not just a truly great warrior, but a truly great man. The world is a better place because of him." Jasi knew better than to further try and press the point.
"And Lord Greypawn, too, right? Do you think that . . . this ritual . . . it will work?"
Galathan sighed, leaning heavily against the ice. He draped an arm around Jasi’s waist, pulling her close, her warm body reviving his. "Who knows? If it doesn't work, then this was all for nothing. If it does work, then everyone outside of these walls will realize that we were right all along. They will realize that our few lesser evils pale in comparison to the greater good that we will have accomplished. If there is one thing I would trust Greypawn to do, it's this ritual. I wouldn't be here otherwise. If it were anything else, I would say no way."
Icicles broke from the towers, falling like crystal daggers, and shattered into shards of razor glass upon the still whiteness of the ground. The tremors from the ever-closer army shook the keep dangerously. Jasi squeezed Galathan tightly. "I'm scared."
"I know." He squeezed her back.
Jasi clung to Galathan’s arm like a person clings to a floating piece of driftwood in the middle of a rapid river. She was going to be washed away, drowned, and her only salvation was the arm that she could hold on to. Galathan peered closer at the mass of men, nearly upon the doorstep.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” Galathan pointed to a fluttering banner of gold with feint green edges in the middle of the invading tide. At the center of the banner was the black outline of a closed fist.
“Who’s that?” Jasi, too, peered closer. Fragile snowflakes nestled themselves into her hair like delicate glass beads. She looked like a snow maiden standing watch over her frozen palace.
“The Tempestguard. Personal guards of the crowned Regent himself. Wouldn’t expect for them to be here in a place like this.” Galathan shifted slightly uneasily on his feet.
“Do you know them?” Jasi looked up at the side of Galathan’s strong jaw, which betrayed nothing.
Galathan’s inner feelings were masked by his tell-tale grin. “Know them? Of course. I trained them. The leader of the guard, Corrin, came from Moonglow, too. He studied at the great library. We, along with Richard, fought at the battle of Yew together.” Galathan pointed his gloved hand at another banner, black and white with a gold sword across it diagonally. “I expected General Vorrel, there, and his buddy from the military academy, Ellis. They are both well favored by the governing Regent.” He pointed to another banner that was just coming around the south mountain bend that was grey with a white and black bird. “But I wasn’t expecting Corrin.”
Jasi looked very uneasy. “What of them? Why should that matter?”
Galathan shook his head, his insides telling him one thing, but his mind telling him to not speak of such things. “It matters not. Just an observation is all.” He wanted to change the subject. “Do you know their weakness?”
“Always the teacher, even when facing death, huh?” Jasi’s lips curled into a smile. Her cheeks were rose-colored and kissed by the frigid cold. Specks of pure white dotted her forehead and nose.
“Just answer the question.” Galathan ran his fingers through his golden locks.