Post by strider on Dec 6, 2007 18:41:50 GMT -6
The sun glistened on his highly polished armor, finished with a pearly white gloss with highlights of gold, as he stood at the helm of an impressive force gathered to protect his homeland. He rested his large shield, emblazoned with his family’s honored crest, in front of him and steadied his grip on his blade. For generations, his family had fought for and protected his homeland, and he had proven himself as a worthy heir to their name. He had the trust of his king and his people, and his very presence boosted the morale of the troops behind him. He had fought countless invaders before, but now a new threat loomed before his homeland. As the light breeze brushed his golden locks across his face, he looked across the field at the menace that he now faced.
Word had reached the kingdom weeks before that a maniacal tyrant’s forces were quickly sweeping across the lands. There were four different armies who served the tyrant, each characterized by the traits of its general and known by the color of the flag it bore. These four generals, in turn, were quickly becoming known as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
The menace before him was the red army, renowned for its swiftness and unpredictability in battle. It was rumored that by the time one realized it was the red army attacking, it was already too late. However, in a surprising turn of events, the red army had arrived in the kingdom and simply set up camp. Had his kingdom been attacked immediately, they would undoubtedly have been quickly overwhelmed, but they were given ample time to gather their forces and mount an impressive defense against the enemy.
He reached down and lifted his shield as a lone figure began to approach him. The man opposite to him, clad in blood red armor, was presumably the Red Knight who commanded the invading army. The two men approached each other and stood in an open field between the two armies. The Red Knight was not the first to attempt to invade his kingdom, and he was confident that he would win in one on one combat. With their general down, the invading army, already greatly outnumbered, would easily be routed by the defending forces. The hope of his homeland rested on his shoulders.
He held his sword and shield firmly, ready to rise to the calling and defend his home once again.
*****
His vision blurred as he lay slumped on the ground. The armor which he had previously worn so effortlessly seemed to press its weight down on him. His senses dulled and a myriad of thoughts swirled in his head.
How...?
His body slowly grew numb, yet he could still feel a warm liquid slowly spreading underneath him. He opened his eyes slightly and glimpsed slender, heeled black boots trailed by a lively demonic tail walk past his unresponsive body.
“This hero of theirs was disappointing,” he heard a strong male voice say through his muffled hearing.
“Your orders?” a sharp female voice questioned.
“Their morale should be down. Commence the attack,” said the male voice. “Destroy everything.”
“Aye, my lord.”
As death slowly squeezed the last breath from his body, he lay powerless to stop the terror that his homeland would face. He was supposed to be the hope of his people.
This time, hope was not enough...
Word had reached the kingdom weeks before that a maniacal tyrant’s forces were quickly sweeping across the lands. There were four different armies who served the tyrant, each characterized by the traits of its general and known by the color of the flag it bore. These four generals, in turn, were quickly becoming known as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
The menace before him was the red army, renowned for its swiftness and unpredictability in battle. It was rumored that by the time one realized it was the red army attacking, it was already too late. However, in a surprising turn of events, the red army had arrived in the kingdom and simply set up camp. Had his kingdom been attacked immediately, they would undoubtedly have been quickly overwhelmed, but they were given ample time to gather their forces and mount an impressive defense against the enemy.
He reached down and lifted his shield as a lone figure began to approach him. The man opposite to him, clad in blood red armor, was presumably the Red Knight who commanded the invading army. The two men approached each other and stood in an open field between the two armies. The Red Knight was not the first to attempt to invade his kingdom, and he was confident that he would win in one on one combat. With their general down, the invading army, already greatly outnumbered, would easily be routed by the defending forces. The hope of his homeland rested on his shoulders.
He held his sword and shield firmly, ready to rise to the calling and defend his home once again.
*****
His vision blurred as he lay slumped on the ground. The armor which he had previously worn so effortlessly seemed to press its weight down on him. His senses dulled and a myriad of thoughts swirled in his head.
How...?
His body slowly grew numb, yet he could still feel a warm liquid slowly spreading underneath him. He opened his eyes slightly and glimpsed slender, heeled black boots trailed by a lively demonic tail walk past his unresponsive body.
“This hero of theirs was disappointing,” he heard a strong male voice say through his muffled hearing.
“Your orders?” a sharp female voice questioned.
“Their morale should be down. Commence the attack,” said the male voice. “Destroy everything.”
“Aye, my lord.”
As death slowly squeezed the last breath from his body, he lay powerless to stop the terror that his homeland would face. He was supposed to be the hope of his people.
This time, hope was not enough...
