Prehistory: Hayldrig

Part I

Spoiler:

"Sire, are you sure you want to wager that much against your own man?" spoke a rather handsome young mage to the King. "Of course, he refused proper training he stands no chance, he returned, gesturing to two men on either side of a dirt ring, separated from a crowd by thick timbers cut from the local forest. A loud shout rose from the crowd as the first metallic clang rose from the two swords meeting, their masters each striking toward each other with blows that could behead a horse in one action. The man the king had bet against had taken an early lead and was now swiping furiously at his opponent. He moved quickly, his muscles bulging under the thick metal armour protecting him as the hilt of his sword hit the side of his foe's head, knocking him to one knee and a hand. "He fights well, sire you may have done wrong to doubt him." insisted the mage. "just watch, you will see." As the man raised his glorious longsword above his head, ready to kill with a final crushing blow he noticed something was wrong. A sharp pain entered his knee, a moment later his opponent was rolling to one side and retrieving the sword from his shattered kneecap. "Fuimus, Brother" he whispered before bringing the sword quickly through his neck. The head of the man the king had bet against was now rolling along the ground, the stump it had sprouted from was pumping red gobs of blood into the soil it rested upon.

"See? winners use mental and physical strengths to win a battle, not just raw strength, had he stayed in training he may have known that" said the king back to the mage, he grinned as he did so, gave him a pat on the back and walked the short distance to the local market. The market was now deserted due to the marketeers watching the fight "They'll be back soon now that it's over." he thought.

As he walked, the bark laden soil crunched beneath his feet, and a cool breeze brushed past him with a promise of looming winter. He felt calm "Sire!" shouted the mage, waking him from his stupor. "Yes what is it Skaer?" he snapped, annoyed to be drug from his meditative state "your winnings sire, three hundred gold" "Ah yes, keep it you would do well to make use of some extra gold." As they spoke, market stalls began to flood with people. Signs were put back up as merchants leaned over their counters and ran out front to twist strings around revealing their wares.

Hayle barely had time to smile. The sound was deafening, chunks of rock surrounded him. The shop directly in front of him was the first to be obliterated. The massive piece of masonry left a massive crater on impact with the earth as it continued to roll it left ripped topsoil in it's path before finally stopping and throwing dirt in all directions. A smaller piece hit him in the side of the head, knocking him out. As he fell to the ground he could see a hail of arrows striking the area around him, and with his last glimpse of light he could see orcs running past his dim field of vision. While he was asleep he dreamed. One prominent thought broke through the fog in his sleep. "The hand about to commit evil is already stained in blood." Despite having no idea what it meant, he knew it must be something from another realm talking to him. And finally the fog began to clear...

pretty good so far, keep it up

Footsteps were fast approaching him. He could barely squeeze his eyelids open, and then he could still only make out shapes and blurs. He could feel heat from every direction, and he could taste the smoke as it began filling his lungs. His heart began beating louder as it was fighting more and more desperately to pump oxygenated blood through his asphyxiating system. His muscles began to lose all strength quickly, he pushed hard against the ground. With all of his strength he could move a few inches. He couldn't see an escape but he couldn't care, no thoughts formed in his mind save one: survive.

Meanwhile, refugees were pooling into a small clearing outside of the castle. Many of the people already lived in this part of the kingdom. They took in as many as they could. One of the men found a way to make some money from the ordeal. He was new to the kingdom. Nobody would really recognize him as he was always wearing a cloak and kept mostly to himself. He drew his dagger, "just in case" he thought.

As he tried in vain to crawl away, his every action a burning pain in his arms and legs, he began to see a clearing of the smoke. At a slightly heightened pace, he was able to crawl into it, gasping for his well deserved air. He was free now, he could see and breath once more. Until an orc spotted him and kicked him in the head, leaving him for dead. Once more he was sent into a sprawling unconsciousness. When he came to, his men were still holding, he was now behind their lines propped up on a wall. He tried to get up hastily but hit his head on an overhanging ledge. "Aaigh!" he shouted "Oh thank god you're awake" said an elf that loomed over him. "Heh? We have elves in the kingdom?" he thought "Take a sword, they won't take the castle today!" the elf shouted, running back into the fray.

The last of his men were being taken apart by the invaders. "We won't last long!" shouted a knight, moments before he was fell by the ax of a great orc warrior. "Dammit, if I have to hold this kingdom myself..." he grumbled under his breath, finally taking up a sword and heading toward the orcs that were pushing the lines.

Meanwhile, back in the refuge far outside the city, a woman sat in one of the hostels. Her thoughts only on her husband, who was still in the city. Her thoughts were dim and she nigh expected anyone to make it out alive. "Surely anyone in the castle could survive for days..." Her eyes began getting wet, she wiped the moisture from them as she sniffed. "Oh I do hope your daddy comes soon" she said to the bundle of cloth in her arms.