Tag Archives: Fantasy

The Fallen

Metal creaked as the once proud tower fell crashing to the ground. It was the last symbol of freedom, the last bastion of hope that the people of Kazaldor had. The usually fertile fields lay barren, trodden into oblivion by the iron shod boots of the soldiers who had almost continuously marched towards the capital. They had left a trail of destruction behind them, farmers and livestock alike laying dead next to the pastures. It was a horrific sight, yet paled in comparison to the scenes that could be found at the capital Cylon. Fires still raged amongst the buildings, corrupt soldiers ran amok amongst the streets, doing as they pleased. It seemed that the invaders cared littlefor taking over but seemed to relish in the unfettered violence. Few dared to stand in their way, running from the sound of their now feared boots. With the tower of Cylon in ruins, very few believed that Kazaldor could ever be restored to its former glory. James Reilly however, was one of those men.

Reilly lifted the cold drink to his lips, relishing the taste. His dusty throat was refreshed, and already he could feel his aching limbs returning to their former selves. However, his relief was mingled with sadness. He sat alone in the pub, a weary and worried barman his only companion. This used to be the centre of Cylon, the hub of the town. Never would one find this place close to empty before the invasion, yet now Reilly truly wondered if there were enough people left within the city walls to fill the room. He pulled a couple of coins from his pockets, nodded at the barkeep, and made his way into the streets that few bar him were willing to travel at night

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Fire and Food (The Ghear)

The sounds of the night filled Reilly’s ears, darkness closing in around him. The sun had set, the last vestiges of natural night disappearing. They had managed to set up a fire; a man had saved a packet of matches, luckily, the light creating shadows that danced across the nearby lake. He had set up a watch system, but Reilly planned to stay up all night anyway. He saw shadows prowling around the edges of the light, much smaller than the monstrous Saber he had killed early today, but he could tell by the way the moved, that they wouldn’t mess around if they caught him. They would kill efficiently, and with ease.

Reilly prayed to whatever lived up there, whatever they called God on this planet. Nothing had bothered the camp during the night, none of the horrific creatures daring to breach the barrier that the fire had formed. Now the challenges of surviving through the day presented themselves. He had to find not food just for one, which would be an unenviable task in itself, but for a group of thirty. They had to figure out a way to make a more permanent house. Trees were all around him, but they had few tools, only a dozen or so pick axes from the mines, and Reilly’s seemingly eternally sharp knife from the Ghear. Water, luckily, was no issue, with the lake at their side. One less challenge, he thought to himself, but there was still plenty to do.

He set the men with pick axes to bring down some of the smaller trees, and if they couldn’t lug it over, to chop it into parts in order to allow them to carry them. If they still couldn’t do so, then they were to simply chop it up into firewood. Made for smashing their way through earth and rock, the pick axes were far from ideal for tree chopping, but like the sword that Reilly wore around his waist, were sharp, and very strong. The people with him were strong too. It sounded terrible to say, but the mines had weeded out the weak. All these people were fit, able to work. As such, they kept a good pace bringing down the trees. It was tough work, no doubt, but was absolutely necessary.

*     *     *

He followed the herd of Brachiosaur as they strode across the plain. He stalked silently through the tall grass, the monstrous herbivores immune to his presence. And rightly so. He was no threat to the creatures, but he was interested in ones the size of ostriches. With long necks and larges eyes, they were like the antelope of this world. They were bipedal, and moved with immense speed. The only way Reilly would ever catch them was through surprise, catching them off guard and as the dumb creatures tried to flee, cutting their throats. The creatures were so big that they could feed the troop for at least two days, and they would be eating well. He crouched lower, preparing his sword. One had split from the herd, stopping to graze. Reilly swore it would be his last action, as he leapt to his feet.

Reilly’s legs pumped underneath him, quickly traversing through the long grass. A bellow echoed through the air, the larger Brachiosaurs having spotted him. He didn’t care; his eyes were completely focussed upon the frightened looking Runner, alarmed by the Brachiosaurs braying. It was isolated from the herd, an easy target. It started to run, but Reilly was already on its back, tearing at it with the ever-sharp knife of the Ghear. With a ferocity that surprised himself, he brought the once majestic creature down, dead. He roared in delight. Food.

They had managed to keep the fire going. There was always someone stationed at it, always somebody to add more firewood. They only had limited matches, and they had no other way to start a  fire. Therefore, the fire was always blazing. Reilly arrived home a hero, dragging the beast behind him. The men had been surprisingly efficient, with the camp surrounded by large logs, at least offering them some protection

The sounds of the night filled Reilly’s ears, darkness closing in around him. The sun had set, the last vestiges of natural night disappearing. They had managed to set up a fire; a man had saved a packet of matches, luckily, the light creating shadows that danced across the nearby lake. He had set up a watch system, but Reilly planned to stay up all night anyway. A tall, muscled black man, who went by the name Frank Jones, was ex-Marine and his official second in charge. He saw shadows prowling around the edges of the light, much smaller than the monstrous Saber he had killed early today, but he could tell by the way the moved, that they wouldn’t mess around if they caught him. They would kill efficiently, and with ease.

Reilly prayed to whatever lived up there, whatever they called God on this planet. Nothing had bothered the camp during the night, none of the horrific creatures daring to breach the barrier that the fire had formed. Now the challenges of surviving through the day presented themselves. He had to find not food just for one, which would be an unenviable task in itself, but for a group of thirty. They had to figure out a way to make a more permanent house. Trees were all around him, but they had few tools, only a dozen or so pick axes from the mines, and Reilly’s seemingly eternally sharp knife from the Ghear. Water, luckily, was no issue, with the lake at their side. One less challenge, he thought to himself, but there was still plenty to do.

He set the men with pick axes to bring down some of the smaller trees, and if they couldn’t lug it over, to chop it into parts in order to allow them to carry them. If they still couldn’t do so, then they were to simply chop it up into firewood. Made for smashing their way through earth and rock, the pick axes were far from ideal for tree chopping, but like the sword that Reilly wore around his waist, were sharp, and very strong. The people with him were strong too. It sounded terrible to say, but the mines had weeded out the weak. All these people were fit, able to work. As such, they kept a good pace bringing down the trees. It was tough work, no doubt, but was absolutely necessary.

*     *     *

He followed the herd of Brachiosaur as they strode across the plain. He stalked silently through the tall grass, the monstrous herbivores immune to his presence. And rightly so. He was no threat to the creatures, but he was interested in ones the size of ostriches. With long necks and larges eyes, they were like the antelope of this world. They were bipedal, and moved with immense speed. The only way Reilly would ever catch them was through surprise, catching them off guard and as the dumb creatures tried to flee, cutting their throats. The creatures were so big that they could feed the troop for at least two days, and they would be eating well. He crouched lower, preparing his sword. One had split from the herd, stopping to graze. Reilly swore it would be his last action, as he leapt to his feet.

Reilly’s legs pumped underneath him, quickly traversing through the long grass. A bellow echoed through the air, the larger Brachiosaurs having spotted him. He didn’t care; his eyes were completely focussed upon the frightened looking Runner, alarmed by the Brachiosaurs braying. It was isolated from the herd, an easy target. It started to run, but Reilly was already on its back, tearing at it with the ever-sharp knife of the Ghear. With a ferocity that surprised himself, he brought the once majestic creature down, dead. He roared in delight. Food.

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Surviving

The foliage closed around him, dampening the noise around him. Despite being surrounded by people, he felt like there was literally nobody near him. Sounds of the jungle filled his ears, sounds he had never heard before. Relief flooded over him as the group burst through into a wide open field, a lake in its centre. However, this relief was soon replaced with terror as a primal bellow burst forth out of the undergrowth.

The ground shook beneath Reilly’s feet as a monstrous creature burst forth from the undergrowth. Rippling with muscles, its fur covered body shuddering with every stride, claws fully unsheathed. It roared once more, its feline mouth revealing full set of terrifying teeth. Reilly set his shoulders as he stared into the creatures yellow eyes, the terrifying eyes staring back at him. He bounced the sword in his hand, and as the ferocious creature reached him, stepped aside. He swung the sword down with a roar, the sound coming from deep within him, seemingly unsolicited. He cut the lion like creature deep, eliciting a howl of pain as the weapon tore through the beast’s flesh. It tumbled to the ground, its forward left paw dangling limply. The ligaments and such essential for its movement were severed by Reilly’s blade. It stumbled around on the ground, kicking up dust as it tried to get to its feet. However, Reilly wouldn’t allow this to happen, and with a tremendous stab, drove his sword deep into the beast’s heart. A cheer rose up behind him. He wasn’t just a leader. He was now a hero.

Once again the ground beneath him began to rumble. Reilly prepared himself to fight once more, his lip turning into a snarl. But this time, it was something much less threatening, as Reilly gasped at what came into view. A herd of brachiosaur like creatures were plodding past, their heads high above the canopy, heading towards the lake near the centre of the vast opening. Smaller creatures ran about their legs, some as small as a chickens, but instead of feathers, were covered in fur. Night was closing in around him, as his stomach began to rumble. ‘Food’. ‘We need food’, he thought ‘as well as water’.

They reached the lakeside before true nightfall, the sun-like object still sending light over the horizon. He was worried how they would survive through the night, with minimal shelter and no light. They had gotten lucky though, as some had been able to catch some of the smaller creatures that had been scuttling around the feet of the larger brachiosaurs. Some irked at the thought of eating raw meat, but that quickly dispersed when the realised how hungry they were, the Ghear having rarely fed them whilst down the mines. Reilly was beginning to realise the extremity of his situation. He was on an alien planet, with no ‘back up’, no way even out of here. He had little shelter, little light. Luck had presented them with water and food, but one knows not to trust luck. And night was about to set in. He hoped the worst wasn’t yet to come

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Retribution-Andrew Bartlett

Major James Reilly leaped off his dying horse, the noble beast brought down by a volley of black arrows. A veteran of many wars, Reilly was known by many as a ruthless, heartless killer. His hatred of orcs was legendary. Fueled by the murder of his family at the hands of the brutes, Reilly had joined the Royal Army, eager to get his vengeance. Many towns had fallen to the ravenous hordes. One such town was Reilly’s latest assignment. He had come to cleanse the town.
Landing lightly, Reilly quickly unsheathed his sword. With a roar, he charged down the cobblestone street towards his assailants, a group of some ten orcs. Arrows bounced off his blessed breastplate as fire flew from his fingertips, ancient magick engulfing the orcs. Reilly readied his sword, the weapon as eager as Reilly, and went slaughtering the monsters with merciless efficiency. It wasn’t long before Reilly stood alone, dripping with sweat as he stepped over the immobile bodies as he moved on to the next part of the town.

Major James Reilly leaped off his dying horse, the once noble beast brought down by a volley of black arrows. A veteran of many wars, Reilly was known by many as a ruthless, heartless killer. His hatred of orcs was legendary. Fuelled by the murder of his family at the hands of the brutes, Reilly had joined the Royal Army, eager to get his vengeance. Many towns had fallen to the ravenous hordes. One such town was Reilly’s latest assignment. He had come to cleanse the town.

Landing lightly, Reilly quickly unsheathed his sword. With a roar, he charged down the cobblestone street towards his assailants, a group of some ten orcs. Arrows bounced off his blessed breastplate as fire flew from his fingertips, ancient magick engulfing the orcs. Reilly readied his sword, the weapon as eager as Reilly, and went slaughtering the monsters with merciless efficiency. It wasn’t long before Reilly stood alone, dripping with sweat as he stepped over the immobile bodies as he moved on to the next part of the town.

However, something Reilly chose to ignore was that those “monsters” had families as well. While different in many ways to Reilly’s concept of a family, it still existed. And while Reilly liked to believe that he was a hero, he knew that in reality he was stealing somebody’s father. It terrified him to think so, but he had come become desperate to avenge his long lost family and wife. While he claimed he fought with the power of The Nine, he knew that his real motivation was much darker-revenge.

Continuing on with blind fury, Reilly killed every orc that stood in his way. He chased, hacked and went to the next one. He was unforgiving and left none alive. Any who surrendered would not be met with an open hand, but the sharpened blade of his sword. More than twenty years had passed since his family’s demise, and yet still the wounds lay open.

It didn’t take long for Reilly to cleanse the village, but the once picturesque landscape was barely recognisable. Buildings were burnt down, roads cracked. But Reilly knew that the families of these orcs would be nearby. With the blood still on his sword, Reilly followed the trampled trail towards the orc camp. Darkness fell over the land.

Reilly dispatched with the sentries before they even knew of his existence, an arrow through each of their throats. Akin to a blood thirsty demon of old, a battered and blood stained Reilly trundled into the camp. He went about his business with practiced efficiency. Summoning the power that lay within him, Reilly extended his arm and, as he pointed to each of them, set the tents ablaze. Screams of pain and horror echoed throughout the night, as bright as the flames themselves. Reilly watched as his hated enemies burnt in their homes, all of whom felt his wrath.

As day broke, Reilly once again stood alone amongst the charred bodies. He fell to his knees, weeping for the man, the good man, he once was, and his family. Worst of all he knew that the killing had done nothing to ease his pain.

(The Nine are the gods)

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Revolution-Andrew Bartlett

Civil war racked the lands of Kazaldor. Kings men were fighting against the peasants of the land, in what would appear to be a simple, one sided war. However, the despotic king had more than one set of enemies, and soon even the land began to revolt against its tyrannical ruler. Legends had reawakened. Legends were being forged.

Former General of the Kings Army, James Reilly led a different kind of regiment to what he was used to. A major fight with his fellow generals had resulted in him having his rank ripped from him and being ejected from the Guard, his name now worth less than mud, his family’s reputation in tatters. Given the choice between death and dishonour, Reilly chose the latter. He couldn’t change anything if he was dead. Compared to the glittering armour and fluttering banners of the Kings Royal Mounted Guard, his men looked like nothing more than a ramshackle array of peasants and vagrants. Which they were. But Reilly knew more than anyone that these men would continue to fight until their last breath and would give up their lives for their friends and family. To Reilly, this was more important than any measure of skill or ability.

Reilly wheeled on his horse, turning to address his men. “Today, we fight for all that is right. Today, we fight for those who sit at home, awaiting your return. Let us make sure that they don’t wait any longer!” Reilly roared, knowing that his men, those who had followed him across this land, defeating foes that many believed invincible, would be right behind him. Suddenly, a bestial scream unheard for many a generation echoed across the battlefield. Reilly, eyes fixated on the approaching enemy infantry, saw a gigantic winged shadow fall over the battlefield ‘Dragons’ Reilly thought.

The column of cavalry pulled up, halting their charge before they could reach the foe, many horses and men deserting, as they saw the legend reborn swoop upon the Kings men. A searing blast of fire engulfed the enemy as screams of pain filled Reilly’s ears. Reilly watched on as the once thought to be extinct dragon reaped a bloody toll, leaving little more than rags and bloodied fragments of armour in its wake. The beast’s wings unfolded, pumping hard as the dragon lifted itself of the ground then, with a primeval bellow, flew towards Caldor, the main city of Kazaldor and the seat of the king. Reilly smiled and kicked his horse into action, following the winged monster on its charge to the throne.

The smell of blood filled Ragnarok’s nostrils as the dragon flew towards the city, knowing that the rebel followed him. Too long had he lain in rest, watching his lands slowly fall under the cruel rule of this arrogant king. Ragnarok felt the wind under his wings as he swooped towards the capital’s gates, pulverizing the ancient wooden door as he slammed through them. He roared as he charged forward, knocking men over and cleaving his way through the city as he ran towards the palace, intent on finishing this dispute in the one way he knew how-claw and fire.

Reilly reached the city gates, the once sturdy doors little more then kindle as his warhorse walked through the gate. The dragon’s path was evident, as bodies and ruined buildings littered the path towards the palace. Reilly galloped forward, only as a thud rocked the earth. Reilly watched as a red dragon emerged from behind the palace, and with a beat of its wings, stormed towards him. Reilly steadied himself, prepared to meet his fate.

Ragnarok saw the traitor fly out from behind the palace, realising it was about to reach the man. Ragnarok dived, and with a monstrous thud, collided with the oath-breaker. With a terrifying scream, Ragnarok snapped his jaws on the red dragon’s neck, going for the killing blow. However, the blood traitor squirmed out of his death grip, and wheeled around in mid air engulfing Ragnarok in flame. Pain engulfed Ragnarok’s body as his scales absorbed the worst of the flames. With a growl, Ragnarok swung his claw, connecting with the defector’s face.

Reilly galloped forward, grateful for the dragon’s help, eager to finish this once and for all. He reached the open palace doors and dismounted, unsheathing his sword. Reilly cautiously prowled into the building, sword at the ready, prepared to take back his land. Suddenly the very earth beneath his feet shook violently, nearly knocking Reilly off his feet.

Ragnarok grappled with the traitor as they both slammed into the ground, their weight cracking the earth. He stumbled to his feet, as the red dragon did the same. Ragnarok tensed his legs, leaping forwards throwing all his weight towards his foe. Ragnarok tore into his weakened foe, a bloodthirsty roar of triumph tearing through the city.

Reilly’s heard the roar of a dragon as he steeled himself, preparing for battle. Suddenly, he heard the scraping of a sword behind him. Reilly whipped around, barely managing to block the blow of the tyrannic king. Reilly quickly turned the king’s blade off his own, leaving him defenceless. With a flick of his sword, finally, Reilly had set the land, and its people, free.

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