For those of you with a photogenic memory, you'll (hopefully) remember...that a long long time ago, a NewComer decided to start his first store thread. Well, it was sort of a failure, but now that NewComer is restarting the thread. Sit back and enjoy the show.
----------------- KOA Chronicles- The Beginning
All was well in the Kingdom of Armor. For three thousand years, the country existed in a blissful golden age. The Kings had been benevolent, ruling justly. The latest of this line was King McNeely VII. He was assisted by a wise, noble council, the Council of Armor. The people were contented, all 300,000 of them. Crime level was virtually nil, except for the odd spammer. All was right, till three months ago.
The founder of the McNeely Dynasty whose name has now been lost to the ages had fought an evil being, the Naughty Sorceress Carlie at the Beginning of Time to gain control of the Kingdom and free the people whom Carlie had enslaved. He succeeded after an epic battle, banishing her to the Far North, imprisoning her in Castle Casanova. For three millennium, she bided her time, gathered her forces and retrained herself in the dark arts...
Now terror stalks the land. Carlie struck back finally, leading vast hordes from the Void across the land. The King was taken by surprise and imprisoned in a plexiglass prism, unable to break free. The Council was corrupted, a shadow of its former glorious self. One by one the great lords of the Council felt their will submitting to Carlie.
The populace was terrified; creatures of the night appeared and took them to the Sorceressâ lair, evil experiments conducted on them where their brains were altered, so they spoke in perfect grammar, spoke and talked less etc. Their freedom of speech was lost; there was acute food shortage, general mayhem... The most hated and drastic change was that SPAM meat was banned. It was a utopia, a world where spam was eradicated, but at what cost?
But not all was lost. One of the Councilmen had escaped and raised an army. The great Spamlord Jaza rose. The angry peasants flocked to his side, gathering whatever weapons they could find. Mercenary groups from around the Kingdom rushed over and joined the Grande Armee.
And so have I, Nichodemus, a knight from a poor noble family that has long been cast into destitute. I saw it as a chance to restore our fallen status, a chance to regain the favor of the court, a chance to attain unimaginable power. I brought my men of course. Hardened guards from my castle, angry for blood. Rebellion quickly ensued, chaos reigned.
The Sorceress responded with haste. The Five Corrupted Ones gathered their armies, the core of which comprised the Loyalists, men who had been tricked, coaxed to join the Sorceress. Void monsters were summoned from magical portals. War was inevitable. A chance for me to see action for once, young hot-blooded buck as I was. War was a sport, a spectacle for me.
It came. Lord Jaza trounced the Sorceress' forces at the Battle of Tortuga. He captured more than half the Kingdom. But it was not to last. The Sorceress by some unspeakable black magic conjured up the Grey Plague, and slowly Jaza started losing ground, losing fortress after fortress. The plague came like a storm, it destroyed whatever creative thought we had, turned the afflicted to mindless vegetables, incapable of anything. Just two weeks after the first battle, Jaza had lost half of his men to the epidemic.
At the last skirmish fought, the Battle of Aether, Jazaâs army was utterly massacred, weakened by disease and with little will to fight. The Sorceress' Void wizards drove Jaza's army of the battleground. Her Spam Clubbers and Troll Tamers slew all of Jazaâs men, decisively ending the battle. My guards, loyal as they were had all perished. A vicious blow from a hammer of one of the Lords almost cracked my ribs, flung me clear of my horse. Jaza was captured, and thrown into a dirty pest infected jail cell, constantly tortured to give up his spamming ways.
When the victorious army left, the battlefield was strewn with mutilated bodies, survivors groaning and lying on the ground, the ravens of war circling above. As a lone wolf gave a mournful howl, a dark figure rose weakly from the ground.
I have survived, survived the horrific screams, the brutal crushing, the maniacal laughter of that Sorceress as she speared my friends. Hungry for revenge, bitter with defeat, furious with Fate. For Jaza, for the dead, For the Kingdom...It has begun...I no longer care about any reward. I will not rest till I have killed the last of them...
(To Be Continued)
------------------ Disclaimer: Any reference to people and their names', real or fictitious is very very regrettable and unfortunate. All work was written by nichodemus though certain elements have been inspired by Armor Games, the fighting fantasy series and KOL (Kingdom of Loathing). Thank you. More will follow.
PS: Anyway, I have their permission, so all is well.
I'm back! For awhile actually I hope. Wont be here for 2 weeks starting next week. But once school starts in August I'll be back on regularely. I like them, but its slowing down, and I want MORE!
The next time I woke, I was screaming bloody murder yet again, the killing of my loyal Lieutenant playing over an over again in my mind. It became a nightly recurrence, a grisly moment from the battle that etched itself into my mind securely, drilling into my already fragile state of thought.
The endless streams of herbs and potions Cenere put into me did nothing but worsen the nightmare. In desperation, he fed me the roots of the Eldwap a drug so powerful that it caused it's discoverer to slip into a deep sleep for three weeks, before he woke up with an overgrown beard. It didn't work.
The nightmare filled with vivid pictures of decapitation, hulking monsters remained, wrecking my mind. And it was not confined to my mind alone. I faintly heard a soft cackle in the darkness, mocking at me with its unknown presence, always there, yet always unseen, purring like a cat eying a mouse, calling, ever so distantly, barely reaching my ears. But I could hear it all right, like a poltergeist floating around its sighted victims, edging around the walls slowly, slowly circling down on us all.
The others heard it too; Cenere was perpetually casting more Protective Wards around the place, placing charms along the windows and doors to keep out wandering spirits; Jess was always hiding in her loft, casting a look around at me whenever I woke up and dared to interrupt her sleep with my screams.
And finally, on that night when Cenere's house was rocked by the worst storm I could ever recall, the nightmare grew so fearsome in nature, so utterly devilish and despicable that when I cried out till my throat felt raw.
'Silaf vitamorf va Crachner!' I screamed in the harsh Lupravian tongue. Stop torturing me Devil.
I could swear I heard Cenere crashed to the floor from his rocking chair; Jess squealed and dropped out from the wooden beams where she was sleeping as a phoenix and detransformed. I could feel something from outside the house, something trying desperately to break in and devour my mind; in a fit of frothing flailing madness, I managed to unsheathe Nacho from beside my bed, and proceeded to swing and slash at imaginary enemies around me, crying out over and over again for people long since dead.
'Stop!' Cenere hollered, his brow furrowed, his tone worried. Jess peeked out from under her wing, edging closer to the corner of the room.
But I couldn't hear him in my sudden trance, my sword hissing in the air violently. With a grunt, he cast a yet another Sleeping Charm on me, more powerful than the last one. Damn it, why can't I get a grip on myself..... -------------------------
But the worse had past with that insane night; the psychological rack vanished from my mind, as sudden as it came. I just felt tired, worn out, and fatigued...I could only sleep and when I woke for a few short hours of daylight, stare blankly around the room. The years of constraining my emotions did no justice; it only confused me all the more now. My tough grim outlook had been shattered, something I had sought refuge behind; now that it was gone, I felt as naked and defenseless as a new born child. I tried to act as if the nightmares didn't bother me, that the memories didn't haunt me, that the pain was non-existent. But I knew the façade was fake, and they knew it too. I could see it all in their eyes.
Since my night of madness, my sword had been spirited away, together with my armour and mask. I felt agitated, I needed their protection. My being was in turmoil, the emotions crashing endlessly like tidal waves onto my besieged bones; I pondered over what had happened the past few days. Swathed in the rolls of bandages they wrapped me in, till I could hardly move my limbs, my mind drifted off back to my ancestral home.
The beatings, the harsh words, and the living hell it was there. The Count left me in my tutors' care, or rather their grip. Let's just say it was not what your average child would enjoy. The time spent under them left more than physical scars; it shaped me into a cold-hearted, misanthropic youth, impertinent to others. When I could not bear longer, I struck back and fought with my tutors, but the only thing I got in return was the seldom heard oxymoronic praises of my father, who was delighted that I was taking on such a dark mantle.
I was brought up the way no child should be, my childhood lost amidst what the Count considered the family's more important business, and the need to prepare me for my future role. But my parents were unflinching of the uphill tasks that I was forced to go through. Many a night during my transformations, they would throw me to seasoned Royal Guards, to instill ferocity and the spirit of the kill in me. Trained for war at the end of my seventh Lupravian Year, my father used me as a witless pawn in his political games, to sieve out his enemies and deal with them. Too many murdered mercenary commander's blood have stained my gloves, but what can I do?
I knew I couldn't go on living as such. I have done nothing for myself all my life, acting on orders, doing the biddings of others, and I'm sick of it. I was thirsty for life, life of my own, not a forced half-twisted version of God's gift. That was why I left to join the Rebellion, to seek my own fortune and not be contained in the tight clenched fingers of my parents. Alas, I have picked a hard choice; I was free from my parents now, but still very much a prisoner of my own thoughts and feelings. Perhaps it was time to get rid of my charade....
'Nich, look what I found!' Jess ran happily into the room. I peered through my glassy eyes, trying to focus.
'Loooook.' She stood at the bed's end and stuck her foot out. 'I made a flag.'
Flag? I saw a myriad of colours, roughly drawn onto a piece of Cenere's cloth. Jess looked as proud as a five year old child who had drawn her first art piece. I tried, but the smile wouldnât come out.
'Yes.. great...' I muttered, falling back to sleep. I could almost here her sigh.
'Thank...you⦠Jess.' Those three words escaped me before I could hold them back. Jess almost dropped the bowl of soul she was putting at my table, staring quizzically at me, before walking off into her corner, glancing back with that funny look over her shoulder.
Well it was a first step. Sign. Trying to make friends would be harder than slaughtering any of the bounties I had went after in my life...
Just to clarify...KOA is not finished yet. I am not done with this thing. I just have quite a few things on hand to juggle....(read profile for further information). I still have a couple of episodes to post, though I'm not posting them yet for a few undisclosed reasons.
