Post by Lavita on Mar 18, 2005 18:16:58 GMT -1
okay..another piece from moi 
ALCAZUR: Flight of the Griffyn
Prologue: The Price of Hope
The charred buildings still smoked, small will 'o' wisps weaving their way skyward, into the only place that offered any freedom. The stench of decay, spent malevolence and destroyed hopes swamped the air, thick and morbid. It was hard to believe these dismal lands were once fair and filled with the merriment of its people.
A proud, valiant civilisation once called this land home. The sunlight that once turned the grass green, that once dazzled off the gleaming armour and the pearl and silver of their glistening steeds, was now choked by the heavy cloud that had taken recent residence in the land and the hearts of its people. They were brave folk, they were beautiful, and they were defeated.
All that remained now gathered on the hill that overshadowed the ruined village. Many faces were gaunt, despaired, yet their voices still held a blood-born pride as their cry rose to greet the cold air. "Alcazur! Alcazur!" man, woman and child called in unison. "Untin Alcazur!"
From the midst of many twelve rode forth, clad in iron and resolve, their faces set in grim lines. They wore no helms; instead each bore a crown of wire and leaf upon their brow. They did not tie back their long hair to lessen impairment; on the contrary it flowed free, wrapping around their faces in waves of autumn gold, like silk sheets caught in the wind. Each grasped in one hand their own standard, entwined with that of the King; he who already slept. The second hand was used to guide the horse forward, onward into a path already lain yet shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.
"Forth Alcazur!" those gathered cried, seeing the party pause at the doorway to their tomb and Alcazur's future. "Forth Alcazur and into glory. The King's Circle! The King's Circle!"
And forth the knights went in a silent procession, up the hill and into the darkened door that lead under it, where the King already lay in slumber, never to awake until the crown was placed whole upon his fair head. The grand arch lead into utter darkness yet the splendour of kings was not undimmed by it. The heraldry of the realm adorned the stone, carved to perfection it seemed to glow a soft gold azure as the first knight, Sir Tallin, first son of Elsae, passed through and was lost within the shadow. Even the hooves of the proud steeds were silent as they passed below. Then followed the others chosen to guard their sacred king and again crown him whole, fly his banner and hold their allegiance. They were the future of Alcazur, leaving behind their defeat in the face of survival.
Yet the twelfth and final knight paused as he reached the grand arch, turning around to face those gathered, now silent. Out of all to pass below he was the more aged yet his eyes were still as fierce as the dominant beast of the sky. His golden hair was now streaked with a silver-grey but he sat tall upon his loyal steed, truly an eagle at heart. He now looked upon the peasant folk, the commoners and remnants of Alcazur.
"Go." he said, his voice soft yet strong. His banner of a great eagle flapped in the wind, steely eyed. "None gathered here this day shall live under the rule of their blood-king and none gathered here today shall live upon this land. It will fall to the passing of ages to determine the fate of Alcazur. It will fall to Fate to determine when Alcazur shall arise again, whole once more." He looked into their blank faces and felt the pull at his own heart. "Go now to your lives. Do not shed salt of tear for it is we twelve who would grieve. The blood of Alcazur remains strong in each and all of you." He paused to look at the King's torn standard protruding from the castle rubble in the distance. The cloth raised in a weary salute, feeling the knight's gaze. It gave a clear message: Hope. "The Griffyn shall fly again. Untin Alcazur!" he cried, a hand to his heart.
"Untin Alcazur!" the crowd said in chorus, mirroring his gesture.
And Zachir turned, vanishing into the darkness like those before him. The great stone door slid shut and there upon it was emblazoned that which was most sacred to those gathered: The ancient Griffyn, the great steed of the King and the signia of his standard.
"Gryton." one man murmured within the silence.
ALCAZUR: Flight of the Griffyn
Prologue: The Price of Hope
The charred buildings still smoked, small will 'o' wisps weaving their way skyward, into the only place that offered any freedom. The stench of decay, spent malevolence and destroyed hopes swamped the air, thick and morbid. It was hard to believe these dismal lands were once fair and filled with the merriment of its people.
A proud, valiant civilisation once called this land home. The sunlight that once turned the grass green, that once dazzled off the gleaming armour and the pearl and silver of their glistening steeds, was now choked by the heavy cloud that had taken recent residence in the land and the hearts of its people. They were brave folk, they were beautiful, and they were defeated.
All that remained now gathered on the hill that overshadowed the ruined village. Many faces were gaunt, despaired, yet their voices still held a blood-born pride as their cry rose to greet the cold air. "Alcazur! Alcazur!" man, woman and child called in unison. "Untin Alcazur!"
From the midst of many twelve rode forth, clad in iron and resolve, their faces set in grim lines. They wore no helms; instead each bore a crown of wire and leaf upon their brow. They did not tie back their long hair to lessen impairment; on the contrary it flowed free, wrapping around their faces in waves of autumn gold, like silk sheets caught in the wind. Each grasped in one hand their own standard, entwined with that of the King; he who already slept. The second hand was used to guide the horse forward, onward into a path already lain yet shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.
"Forth Alcazur!" those gathered cried, seeing the party pause at the doorway to their tomb and Alcazur's future. "Forth Alcazur and into glory. The King's Circle! The King's Circle!"
And forth the knights went in a silent procession, up the hill and into the darkened door that lead under it, where the King already lay in slumber, never to awake until the crown was placed whole upon his fair head. The grand arch lead into utter darkness yet the splendour of kings was not undimmed by it. The heraldry of the realm adorned the stone, carved to perfection it seemed to glow a soft gold azure as the first knight, Sir Tallin, first son of Elsae, passed through and was lost within the shadow. Even the hooves of the proud steeds were silent as they passed below. Then followed the others chosen to guard their sacred king and again crown him whole, fly his banner and hold their allegiance. They were the future of Alcazur, leaving behind their defeat in the face of survival.
Yet the twelfth and final knight paused as he reached the grand arch, turning around to face those gathered, now silent. Out of all to pass below he was the more aged yet his eyes were still as fierce as the dominant beast of the sky. His golden hair was now streaked with a silver-grey but he sat tall upon his loyal steed, truly an eagle at heart. He now looked upon the peasant folk, the commoners and remnants of Alcazur.
"Go." he said, his voice soft yet strong. His banner of a great eagle flapped in the wind, steely eyed. "None gathered here this day shall live under the rule of their blood-king and none gathered here today shall live upon this land. It will fall to the passing of ages to determine the fate of Alcazur. It will fall to Fate to determine when Alcazur shall arise again, whole once more." He looked into their blank faces and felt the pull at his own heart. "Go now to your lives. Do not shed salt of tear for it is we twelve who would grieve. The blood of Alcazur remains strong in each and all of you." He paused to look at the King's torn standard protruding from the castle rubble in the distance. The cloth raised in a weary salute, feeling the knight's gaze. It gave a clear message: Hope. "The Griffyn shall fly again. Untin Alcazur!" he cried, a hand to his heart.
"Untin Alcazur!" the crowd said in chorus, mirroring his gesture.
And Zachir turned, vanishing into the darkness like those before him. The great stone door slid shut and there upon it was emblazoned that which was most sacred to those gathered: The ancient Griffyn, the great steed of the King and the signia of his standard.
"Gryton." one man murmured within the silence.
..hey...criticisms welcome btw 