Tyre’Negoth:A Tale and a Taste of Future Trials

Six hours of night was spent slumb’ring in dreams,

Til Gimnal, like rooster at dawn, burst from the field

In a blood-freezing scream of absolute terror,

The outcast, who drifted to sleep, awoke first

From his restless branch within the lonely oak,

It seemed to Acumenius’ long tutored eyes, however,

That he burst from branch before Gimnal’s scream,

For how else could man move as fast as lightning

To pin the figure down before he fully stood,

For, Acumenius judged in his methodical way,

That the tree was thirty paces yet covered in a blink.

He dismissed the thought for now, focusing upon Gimnal

Who was sputtering and speaking in frightened tongue,

“Hounds! Built of shadow seeking regal blood with lust,

Moving quickly upon the Sun’s peak and they shall find

One to fill their very desire lest oak be quick!”

Several times he uttered the words with horror,

Then fell silent then returned to his shuddering form.

“Rise, we may as well begin our journey early, now,

All are awake from the rantings,” spoke a Curian knight.

With weary grumble of discontent, all rose and packed,

While Monmoth watched the poor wretch with pity,

The outcast, too, showed sympathy for the miserable youth

For he had not asked for the curse of such visions.

Yet though all gave stock to the prophet’s words,

Acumenius alone pondered as the day’s journey began.

“Now I believe it shall be my turn to tell a tale!”

The Curian knight called Dallimier spoke with glee,

“We may as well begin passing time for the day is long!

But I shall not bore you with Andaras’ many virtues,

For we all know of his loyalty and his swordsmanship,

Yet alas! None know of me and my compatriots talents!

For my good knight who has not spoke since we left,

We long have served in Baelorik’s Allied Forces who,

With true blade and fast horse, have conquered many

A barbarian horde, forgive me Boneshredder, friend,

But we all have our ways and I lay my sword in peace

If you would forgive my manners for telling such story.

Good! Your silence speaks well for me, good hero!

Now on I shall tell of my good Herigal and I in battle!”

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It came that I joined the army with single intent,

To spell my name in blood and build myself eternal fame.

Lucky was my fate to be appointed captain of platoon

Lead by one of Curia’s princes, Herigal, indeed good sir,

Herigal is a Curian prince, his lineage guarantees it!

Thus, General Herigal and I grew to be good friends,

Now we serve under Andaras, an honor indeed I feel,

Yet let me return to the heart of this exciting tale,

It was our platoon’s duty as was assigned by command,

To come from behind the barbarian’s ranks in silence,

No horses were we given, just swords and shields,

Thus we crept with care through the brush upon the day

That the viscious battle began, and what a fight indeed!

The barbarian lord called Goor’Nikai led with ferocity,

Armed with giant axe of granite that none survived.

But we had no fears, being of youth, and so we drove on,

After an hour or more, we arrived on hill, where below

We saw the barbarian horde pushing our warriors back.

Herigal with out hesitation called for us to attack.

In we charged on our feet, screaming in absolute rage!

Nikai’s men turned in surprise and many fell right away,

Blades cut through barbarian flesh again and again,

Down they fell in misery as our platoon kindled fire

In all the other forces who, in renewed fury, charged.

Goor’Nikai was no fool, tis true, thus he blew horn

And to our shock archers rose upon hill to our right.

Arrows rained upon all, slaying without mercy nor care,

Barbarians and Curians, one and all fell prey,

A cruel and bitter shaft found my arm that day,

Yet I did not break nor bend, but snapped the arrow out

And continued cutting through barbarians on all sides.

Herigal called to me to take care of the archers now,

Who, after letting arrows were turned to quiver,

Thus, with eight trusty allies following close behind,

We rushed the hill with force, once the second volley

Of vile arrows were let fly and found their marks.

The archers were not without defense, all had blades

But they were of little help against my men and I,

Soon the archers found themselves tasting defeat.

Yet it was then that we saw the truth of the matter,

Below, craftily hidden by the archer’s steep hill,

Sat Uri’Cor’s barbarian horde waiting within shadow,

Luckily, the brush that concealed them from our eyes,

Blocked theirs from viewing the archer’s defeat, thus,

We picked bow from hill and fired down into their ranks,

Five volleys were sent soaring deep into barbarian flesh

Before the horde realized the archer’s defeat and awoke

In anger and went for their varied arms and shields,

Three more volleys struck before any were battle-ready.

We let two more volleys fly as they charged the hill,

Then fled calling for reinforcements from below.