Scratch

Note: Myrdwaal.

Myrdwaal are servants of the Beast, and were created by it. They are gray skinned beasts with long claws instead of hands and feet, and they have purple, boney, bleeding wings on their backs.


Opening Poem:

Let’s go down the cockroach ladder,

To the crypts of ages where the madmen dwell.

Guarded by foul grave hounds and walls spun for memories of black and white.

None can escape the abominables that guard the halls of the wizards.

The frankensteins who believe they can cure illness,

The blood of foul beasts that are butchered to be feast to the Necromancers who inhabit the twisting tunnels

Of the mind.

The racks of dog-slaves that are led down the war roads just to be slaughtered just to be thrown

In the ditches at the sides of hell.

So let’s go down the cockroach ladder,

To the crypts of ages where the madmen dwell.

Guarded by foul grave hounds and walls spun for memories of black and white.

***
Stranger in the dark

The Figure walked quietly down the cobblestone alley with purpose.

His leather shoes made no sound on the stones. The black cloak

draped around his body made him almost indiscernible from

the buildings around him in the dark moonless night.
He came to an intersection and stopped then turning left he paced off his steps carefully and
stopped again under a stone arched bridge. Glancing around first, he

placed a hand into a small hole in the building, and pulled himself

upward. He proceeded quickly, going hand over hand, Finding small

crevices, until he reached the bottom of the arch. He grabbed the edge,
and suspended by the strength in his fingers, he flexed his muscular
forearms and pulled himself up onto the bridge.


The boy was here. He could feel it. The one the Beast wanted. The figure leapt across the buildings of the town of Frodun. The figure was a servant of the Beast, a Dark Mage. He was looking for something. The whole town knew it as he stood in the streets the next day.

***
The Dancing Drake

Lan awoke in his bed just on the outskirts of Frodun. He resided in his father’s inn, the Dancing Drake. He was looking forward to the feast that was to be held in the later day, in honor of the towns founder,
Vess Hendreson’s birthing day. He was looking forward to seeing his two friends Nyssa and Tom as well. He rose out of bed, washed his face and hair in a basin of cold water, and walked downstairs to see his father laying out the tables with plates and goblets for breakfast.

“Morning, Da,” said Lan.

“Morning, Lan,” said his father.

“I think I’ll go to town today.”

“Fine with me, I suppose I’ll see you there at the feast.”

“I suppose so.”

Lan strode out of the Dancing Drake, and went to the stables. He saddled his gray mare and rode off into town.

***
The Dark Horseman

Lan could already tell there was something amiss in Frodun. He could feel it in the people. His heart lightened at the sight of Tom, his best friend. Tom was a quick boy, and strong as well. He was apprenticed to the local Blacksmith, and his work sold well.

“Lan!” cried Tom.

“Tom, it’s good to see you,” said Lan. “Listen Tom, there seems to be something amiss with the people here. They seem awfully quiet, and uneasy.”

“Yeh,” shrugged Tom. “Some people say there was a cloaked man here. They say he was a Dark Mage.”

“No.”

“Yea! They say he’s in the service of the Beast itself!”

“That can’t be.”
“But it is!” said Tom.

At that moment there was an audible murmur of amazement among the Frodunians on the street. The cloaked man rode down the street on a blood red horse. He rode slowly, and gave an icy glare at the Frodunians. It felt to Lan that it was directed right at him. His horse reared, and gave a low neigh, but was interrupted by a voice, deep and strong.

“What days are these to have a Dark Mage walk the streets in broad daylight.”

A man stepped from the crowd, he wore a sword at his side, and was dressed in mail. He had a round shield with the emblem of an orange tiger on it. He spoke clearly to the Dark Mage,

“Get out, and leave these people in peace.”

There was much murmuring among the crowd. The Dark Mage backed off, then rode straight through the crowd and out the front gates.

***
The Feast

The party was held outdoors at twilight, and there was much music and dancing. At least a thousand people had gathered at the park, even the Dwarf, Nari was there. Lan still felt uneasy. And then a voice cried out,

“Lan, Tom!”

It was Nyssa, the proud bow wielding Mage Apprentice who was, along with Tom, his definite best friend.

“Long time no see!” said Tom, hugging her tightly.

“Agreed,” seconded Lan.

And Lan felt the same uneasiness, and he could hear wings. They were getting closer… He could feel it.














***
Attack of the Myrdwaal

It did not take long for the Myrdwaal to reach Frodun. For Myrdwaal are quick with their wings, and are driven by a constant blood thirst. The wings were first heard by Lan, then Tom, then the rest of the village. Panic spread like wildfire through the partiers. The Myrdwaal descended quickly grabbing the villagers and ripping their supple flesh with their talons. The first to fall was the mayor himself, then soon after, Lan saw with horror from his hiding place behind a few barrels, his father fall mashed to a bloody pulp by the Myrdwaal’s claws.

Lan screamed, and white hot anger soared through his chest. He grabbed a makeshift weapon, a stick in this case, charged the Myrdwaal but was easily thrown back. He hardly noticed the blood on his chest, and was getting up again, when the stranger from the streets that had scared off the Dark Mage leapt at the Myrdwaal, sword in hand, and hacked the thing to pieces.

“Thank you,” murmured Lan, and fell into a dead faint.

***
The Meeting

He awoke in a white, down bed, and thought it was all a dream.

Until he looked at his chest and saw the burn marks from the fires the Myrdwaal had created, and the cuts from the talons of the Myrdwaal. Tom entered the room then, and Lan was overjoyed to see him.

“Come on, Ardon and the weird Mage lady who’s with him are holding a meeting. They think your important or something but,” He sighed. “I’m sorry about your Da, Lan.

All the events of last night came rushing back to him. He sat back down on the bed.

“Do, uh, do you want to wait here for awhile or…”

“No, I’m coming.”

Lan, with the assistance of Tom, hobbled down the stairs into a small room with a great stone hearth, a table, and a few plush chairs. Lan seated himself.

In the chairs sat the man who had rescued him. Who Tom told him was named Ardon. There was also Nari the Dwarf, and as Nyssa pointed out, a Mage named Elena. There also sat the Blacksmith, Tom’s master.

Ardon grimaced. “This was definitely the work of the Beast. No doubt. I fear that he has become more interested in the human race… Enough to send Myrdwaal.”

“What’s a Myrdwaal?” Asked Lan, who felt a little ignorant at this question.

Elena looked grave. “A Myrdwaal is a creature of death, created by the Beast himself. They were what you saw last night,”

Lan decided Elena was very knowledgeable.

“Yes, well anyway.” interrupted Ardon. “Why did he target Frodun?”

“The same reason we are here.” said Elena. “The boy, Lan. He is definitely useful. For good or evil, do not take offense at this Lan. He has a strong will, a will that could be harnessed.”

“Agreed,” murmured Ardon. “There is no question, the Beast must be destroyed.”

“The boy,” answered Elena. “He has a will capable of stopping an army if used correctly.”

“Ah, but which?”

“Wait,” laughed Lan uncertainly. “Am I supposed to help destroy this, Beast of yours?”

“No,” said Ardon.

“Yes,” insisted Elena. “You may be young,”

“Sixteen.”

“You may be sixteen, but \I sense a great power. You must help destroy the Beast.”

She said this with kindness, and Lan felt his doubts lift a little bit.

“And why should I trust you?”

“If you don’t, then the world will perish.”

“A party must be assembled to travel to Thandrioth, the valley of the Beast, and destroy it.” said Ardon. “I myself, and Elena, shall be on the party. And, as Elena says, you Lan.”

“What?” said Lan.

“Yes,”

“If Lan’s going, I am.” said Nyssa.

“I second it,” agreed Tom.

“It is settled then. You two are of age, and can make your own decisions. I have no squalls about you coming. Know that it is dangerous.” said Elena.

“Yea.” said Tom.

“Deal,” said Nyssa.

“We set out at dawn,” said Ardon. “We will go by Anduil’s Pass to Bandor, pick up supplies and continue to Thandrioth.”

Lan retired to his bed in the upstairs, very confused at all that had happened.

***
Riding Out

They rode out at dawn, and the air was fresh and crisp. But it was very cold as well. Lan’s own breath turned to steam. They rode for hours before they made camp, and it was rocky anyway.

The next camp was in a swamp, so half the time he worried he was going to sink.

And the third camp he was so stiff he could not fall asleep.

But on the fourth day, they saw the mountains and there was much rejoicing. But they were icy and snowed over.

“We will pass through the mountains, and the road we are on will lead up.”

***
The Pass

As they reached the base of the mountains, Ardon dismounted, and motioned for the others to do the same.

“It’s to slippery for the horses,” explained Elena. “We must lead them.”

But barely a mile in, and their path was blocked by a massive pile of rocks.

“I don’t think that we may pass this,” said Ardon, who seemed very worried. “I fear that there is only one other way to reach Bandor.”

“Ardon, please, there must be…” said Elena.

“No, I don’t think so.” replied Ardon. “It is Bluewood. It is very dangerous, and many servants of the Beast itself.”

***
Bluewood

The forest was dark. And Lan felt a presence trying to scry his mind, but he was able to shut it out with difficulty. It was aptly named. The trees themselves appeared to be blue, and it was evil. He could feel it. Sometimes he would see something in his peripheral vision, but when he looked back nothing was there.

He stumbled once, of exhaustion. It seemed that when there was a safe place to step, suddenly you’d notice there was a thorn bush there.

“I don’t like it here,” said Tom.

“I can’t blame you,” agreed Nyssa.

Then the ground shook audibly. And Ardon waved for them to stop.

***
The Red Man

“A Red Man.” said Ardon. “They are evil trees of the Beast. Be silent.” he crouched, low in the bushes.

But it was too late, the Red Man stepped through the trees. And gazed down with it’s yellow eyes at them. It was bipedal, and for hair it had red and gold leaves. But as beautiful as it was, it seemed evil.

“Who walks the Bluewood this day?” it said angrily.

“My name is Ardon of Bandor and I…”

“enough!” shouted the Red Man. “Ardon, the great warrior of the north? The Beast shall reward me well.”

It brought down it’s mighty fists towards the party, but he was slow. They dodged. Nyssa shot with her bow and arrows uselessly at it’s wooden frame.

It stomped, but they were lucky it was so slow, any faster and they would have been smashed.

“Fire!” cried Nyssa. “Lan! Make fire with the flint and tinder in my pack!”

Lan ran to the backpack, and began searching it. Meanwhile, the others distracted the Red Man.

“Oi, pea brain!” yelled Tom.

“I have not the brain of a pea!” lumbered the Red Man.

He attempted to stomp on Tom.

Lan had a fire going on a pile of sticks he had gathered, he picked up the end of a burning stick, and charged the Red Man. He laughed uncertainly.

“A stick, against me?”

But Lan set the fire on the Red Man. It slowly grew, and the creature howled in pain.

Lan almost felt sorry for him, as the Red Man fell to the forest floor with a thud.

***
Aidan

They passed the Bluewood without any further interruptions, and as soon as they left the shadowy forest, they could see the high walls of Bandor City.

Ardon led them up to the stone bridge and to the large wooden double doors.

“Aidan!” Ardon cried.

“Ardon?” answered a voice. “is that you?”

“Aidan!” Ardon cried again. “Open the gate!”

The doors slowly creaked open and man rushed out and gave Ardon a tight hug. He had long red hair, and blue eyes. He was taller and rounder than Ardon.

“I thought I’d never see you again!” he yelled.

“Aidan, I must see the King Lanad.”

“I…”

“What is it?” inquired Elena.

“His lordship is dead.” said Aidan.

“Oh.” replied Elena. “Who rules the city of Bandor?”

“His lordship King Brandon of the North. They say he is in league with the Beast.”

“Aidan, let us through. We have come for supplies, and nothing more. I’m sorry,” said Ardon.

“What a shame,” said Aidan.

And they walked into Bandor.

***
Bandor

Bandor was a beautiful city.  High towers and keeps, little square buildings with red roofs. There were gardens and ponds, and fountains.

“I must visit the Mage Hall.” said Elena.

“You’re a mage?” asked Nyssa.

“Yes. Did you not know?” she laughed.

***
Mage Hall

The Mage Hall was a high, domed building, located at the center of the city. It had 6 white marble pillars, and in the middle there was a great stone door. And down the front steps a blue carpet traced with gold.

The five walked up the steps, all but Ardon and Elena were awed by the hall. Brilliantly illuminated, everything was either marble white, or jet black. Everything seemed to be enchanted, as it all seemed to pulse with magical power.

“Come,” said Elena, sharply. “We have not much time here.”

***
The Council

They sat around a stone table, across from the party, were five mages. Each with a different colored cloak. They were averaging in their fifties and sixties. They all carried wooden staves adorned with beautiful carvings.

“Oh, council.” said Elena gravely. “The Beast, I fear is on the move. In Frodun, there was a whole party of Myrdwaal, and even a Dark Mage.”

“A Dark Mage?” said one of the wizards. He was skeptical.

“Yes, in broad daylight,” piped up Nyssa. “He could be seen by all!”

“All eh?” The Yellow Cloaked Mage chuckled.

“It has been long since they have the streets of a haven such as Frodun.” said a purple cloaked mage.

“At night even,” said a blue cloaked one. “But in day?”

“Impossible,”

“Outrageous,”
“Absurd!”


“But what, will you do about it?” demanded Elena angrily.

“What must we? Frodun is only a small village. So what if it is plundered?”

“Not the village. But that the Beast is getting bolder.” said Elena.

“The young one is correct.” growled a voice. “Frodun. Then Bandor. Then he’ll take Baol Adrian!”

A man stepped from the corner. Yet he wasn’t a man at all. He was hairy, and what was that? He wore no clothes! And… He had a tail. He had legs of a goat, and long sharp talons on his fingers. His eyes were pale and he had short, messy brown hair. He had long canines from his lower teeth.

“Good morrow, Elena of the West,” He (or was it he? Maybe “it“) growled. “I am Druak of the Beast-Men. I hear, that you quest for the destruction of the Beast. I, being Beast-Man, have no affiliation with the abomination. I would wish to assist your cause. Though I know not of my true aid.”

“A spy, I reckon,” muttered Ardon.

“Silent,” said Elena. “ I sense no bad tidings in him. He may join if he wishes.”

“Maybe…” said Ardon.

Last edited by Necromaster (2011-09-05 23:19:56)