Prologue

A long time ago in a land much like ours but bigger and, in a sense, closer together, a king named Graffen lived happily in his palace during something of a Golden Age of the country of Terriand and was celebrating the anniversary of the day when the old king Hertronth gained the final victory in the war for freedom. Graffen was outside on the guard walls of the capitol city of Threndion talking to his top guard Forlorn about the remnants of the Orcs.

“Sir, we need to hunt them down so they don’t pose a threat later on wile we rule over the land.”

“No Forlorn. An action like that will cause a war that has not been fought for melleniums and I will not lead this army to death unless I have no other choice. Now go inside and enjoy yourself.”

The king walked inside the throne room only to be greeted with monstrous cheers and whistles. He reached his throne with his wife seated next to him and said with a loud booming voice, “Let the feast begin!” The men cheered and the wives clapped as they all began to eat their fill.

Now Forlorn had not gone inside to the feast because he felt something ill at work. When he saw dust rising in the distance he looked at it hoping it was not a storm. A few minutes later he could tell it was a man on a horse. He race down to the lower levels yelling at the top of his lungs, “Open the gates! Open the gates! OPEN THE GATES!”

When he reached the gates he looked at the man and new it was a scout they had sent out to see if the rumors of Orc remnants were heading for their borders.

“They are true,” the scout said with a weak voice. “They are at our borders as I speak.” As he finished the last word he fell down limp and dead.

Forlorn ran as fast as he could to the throne room, and when he reached the doors he stopped to catch his breath. When he remembered what he had said earlier he burst open the doors and ran up to the king saying, “A scout came in and reported that the rumors are true. They are at our borders as we speak.”

“Where is this scout?”

“He died relating the message to me.”
“Do you know his name?”

“His name is Relgrond, sir.”

And at that precise moment Relgrond’s wife burst out into tears for her husband and ran out the doors to look at him.

“He was attacked by a flurry of arrows that carried poison.”

“What type of poison?”

“Harthyiund poison Sire. Orc kind.”

“Then the Golden Age of Threndion coming to an end. Rally the army!”

And all the men in the army assembled outside the great city, while Graffen walked to his room and went up to what looked like a tower on the outside but was really where the king kept his armor and sword and shield. They were all trimmed in gold and beautiful but had not been used in over ten thousand years. When he was ready he went down to the stables and got on his horse Deriter, and rode down to the front of the army and the marched forward from the shining city toward the Orcs.

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please post your opinions good or bad

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Not bad. It's a good story line.

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Visit The Varsian Kingdom!

Thanx

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