Glaiden89
12-16-2006, 08:44 AM
I was looking at the fan fiction section and this story really stood out to me.
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The War
Portheos of the Erica Server
“There must be a thousand of ‘em!” stated the young Phantom Ranger. Adorned in his bright white Majestic Leather Armor, he stood a dashing figure at the head of the defending force of Aden Castle. He held his large Soul Bow across his chest and stared at the much larger force milling out of the countryside. The ground seemed alive as the enemy drew closer.
“Can we hold it, you think?” he asked his clan leader, a powerful Dark Avenger, his ferocious Dark Panther at his side.
“We took Aden two years ago,” stated the Avenger with a sidelong glance at the Ranger. “The field has never been taken, and our walls have never been breeched. I don’t see today as any difference.” Though he spoke confidently, the Ranger could see the disbelief in his eyes and his nervousness as his commander tapped the tip of his sword against his boot.
Wisely keeping quiet he turned around to view their own forces. The front line was an impenetrable wall of iron and steel. Avengers and Paladins, Gladiators and Treasure Hunters all stood side by side with their Elven allies, Swordsingers and Temple Knights, as well as the Blade Dancers of the Dark Elves. The sun shone on the blood red and bone white armors of the warriors. His eyes watering, he turned to the second line of defense.
Rugged Hawk Eyes stood with the powerful Phantom Rangers and Silver Rangers of the Dark and Light Elves. Their long Soul and Carnage bows ready, they stood behind the fighters, ready and waiting for the advancing enemy. Hundreds of arrows were knocked and ready to be launched into the heart of that army.
At the very rear of the army stood the mages. Spellsingers and Sorcerers, Spellhowlers and Necromancers were all reciting their spells one last time, committing them to memory. The air crackled and sparked at the force of the combined magic and the robes of the mages blew around their ankles as the wind picked up. The Necromancers summoned their foul undead creatures up from the ground, forcing them to their will.
“Buffs.”
“Hmm?”
“I said buffs.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that the Ranger ran off as the Avenger took his place in the center of his army. “Start ‘buffing’!” said the ranger as he came to a young prophet. “You too!” he shouted at an Elven Elder who was sitting in the grass, playing with a caterpillar. “Every, start ‘buffing’ now!”
Soldiers and mages all around were being strengthened, becoming faster and stronger, quicker and smarter. Each man was quickly ‘buffed’ and healed and readied for battle.
The Ranger took his place at the head of the archers, knocking his own bow. With a quick prayer to Shilen, he was soon ready to fight.
The advancing army had stopped only a few hundred feet from the walls of the castle. As the defenders had done, they quickly took up formation and began ‘buffing’. The soldiers in the front of each army were shouting threats and taunts at each other. The field quickly grew louder as the shouting progressed. Shouts mingled with the banging of swords against shields drowned out all other noises of the afternoon.
Motioning for his fellow archers, the Ranger stepped forward in front of the fighters. Although he had no cover he stood in the open, his bow knocked and pulled, ready to fire. The other archers soon followed suit and in an instant the sky was filled with a hundred deadly missiles, soon burying themselves into the enemy army.
Each arrow hit its mark, but very few did actual damage. The Ranger’s pierced the neck of an Avenger and he fell to the ground, motionless. A dozen others followed.
Within seconds the sky was filled with three times as many arrows as before. Hundreds of defending soldiers fell to the ground in screaming agony, arrows piercing flesh, wounding and killing.
Almost instantly, the crash of steel against steel sounded as the two forces collided with one another. Arrows and lighting, wind and fire filled the air as mages and archers battled with each other, while the fighters stuck to their own. For every one of the enemy killed, it seemed, there were three more to take his place. The defenders stood their ground, holding off the waves of fighters and arrows, but it seemed all for naught.
Here and there a man or woman fell, pierced by sword or arrow or utterly destroyed by magic. A veteran Hawk Eye next to the Ranger fell at his feet with an arrow in his chest. Close by he heard a scream as someone was hit with a giant blast of fire.
He himself had sustained many wounds. A bold Avenger broke through the lines and came straight to him, slashing with his long Dark Legion’s Sword. The Ranger had dodged the slash just too late and the tip of the blade cut a ragged scar across his face, blinding his left eye. His right leg was nearly useless, being pierced by an arrow, still protruding out of the flesh.
The Ranger caught sight of his commander and shouted, “Sir! We have to fall back and regroup!”
“No!” he shouted, slamming his shield into the face of a Silver Ranger. “Fight, We can not lose the field!”
“Yes s…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence. The handle of a long Soul Separator pierced his back. Pain shot through his body as the dagger was pushed deeper into his flesh.
“No!” cried the Avenger, rushing to his old friend to help, but was stopped by two Gladiators.
The Ranger fell to his knees as the blade sunk deeper into his back, piercing his lung. He gasped for breath and swayed on his knees. His bow fell to the ground in front of him as his body went cold and numb. All the sounds of battle faded; his eyes closed and he collapsed into the blood stained grass.
Previous Next
The War
Portheos of the Erica Server
“There must be a thousand of ‘em!” stated the young Phantom Ranger. Adorned in his bright white Majestic Leather Armor, he stood a dashing figure at the head of the defending force of Aden Castle. He held his large Soul Bow across his chest and stared at the much larger force milling out of the countryside. The ground seemed alive as the enemy drew closer.
“Can we hold it, you think?” he asked his clan leader, a powerful Dark Avenger, his ferocious Dark Panther at his side.
“We took Aden two years ago,” stated the Avenger with a sidelong glance at the Ranger. “The field has never been taken, and our walls have never been breeched. I don’t see today as any difference.” Though he spoke confidently, the Ranger could see the disbelief in his eyes and his nervousness as his commander tapped the tip of his sword against his boot.
Wisely keeping quiet he turned around to view their own forces. The front line was an impenetrable wall of iron and steel. Avengers and Paladins, Gladiators and Treasure Hunters all stood side by side with their Elven allies, Swordsingers and Temple Knights, as well as the Blade Dancers of the Dark Elves. The sun shone on the blood red and bone white armors of the warriors. His eyes watering, he turned to the second line of defense.
Rugged Hawk Eyes stood with the powerful Phantom Rangers and Silver Rangers of the Dark and Light Elves. Their long Soul and Carnage bows ready, they stood behind the fighters, ready and waiting for the advancing enemy. Hundreds of arrows were knocked and ready to be launched into the heart of that army.
At the very rear of the army stood the mages. Spellsingers and Sorcerers, Spellhowlers and Necromancers were all reciting their spells one last time, committing them to memory. The air crackled and sparked at the force of the combined magic and the robes of the mages blew around their ankles as the wind picked up. The Necromancers summoned their foul undead creatures up from the ground, forcing them to their will.
“Buffs.”
“Hmm?”
“I said buffs.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that the Ranger ran off as the Avenger took his place in the center of his army. “Start ‘buffing’!” said the ranger as he came to a young prophet. “You too!” he shouted at an Elven Elder who was sitting in the grass, playing with a caterpillar. “Every, start ‘buffing’ now!”
Soldiers and mages all around were being strengthened, becoming faster and stronger, quicker and smarter. Each man was quickly ‘buffed’ and healed and readied for battle.
The Ranger took his place at the head of the archers, knocking his own bow. With a quick prayer to Shilen, he was soon ready to fight.
The advancing army had stopped only a few hundred feet from the walls of the castle. As the defenders had done, they quickly took up formation and began ‘buffing’. The soldiers in the front of each army were shouting threats and taunts at each other. The field quickly grew louder as the shouting progressed. Shouts mingled with the banging of swords against shields drowned out all other noises of the afternoon.
Motioning for his fellow archers, the Ranger stepped forward in front of the fighters. Although he had no cover he stood in the open, his bow knocked and pulled, ready to fire. The other archers soon followed suit and in an instant the sky was filled with a hundred deadly missiles, soon burying themselves into the enemy army.
Each arrow hit its mark, but very few did actual damage. The Ranger’s pierced the neck of an Avenger and he fell to the ground, motionless. A dozen others followed.
Within seconds the sky was filled with three times as many arrows as before. Hundreds of defending soldiers fell to the ground in screaming agony, arrows piercing flesh, wounding and killing.
Almost instantly, the crash of steel against steel sounded as the two forces collided with one another. Arrows and lighting, wind and fire filled the air as mages and archers battled with each other, while the fighters stuck to their own. For every one of the enemy killed, it seemed, there were three more to take his place. The defenders stood their ground, holding off the waves of fighters and arrows, but it seemed all for naught.
Here and there a man or woman fell, pierced by sword or arrow or utterly destroyed by magic. A veteran Hawk Eye next to the Ranger fell at his feet with an arrow in his chest. Close by he heard a scream as someone was hit with a giant blast of fire.
He himself had sustained many wounds. A bold Avenger broke through the lines and came straight to him, slashing with his long Dark Legion’s Sword. The Ranger had dodged the slash just too late and the tip of the blade cut a ragged scar across his face, blinding his left eye. His right leg was nearly useless, being pierced by an arrow, still protruding out of the flesh.
The Ranger caught sight of his commander and shouted, “Sir! We have to fall back and regroup!”
“No!” he shouted, slamming his shield into the face of a Silver Ranger. “Fight, We can not lose the field!”
“Yes s…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence. The handle of a long Soul Separator pierced his back. Pain shot through his body as the dagger was pushed deeper into his flesh.
“No!” cried the Avenger, rushing to his old friend to help, but was stopped by two Gladiators.
The Ranger fell to his knees as the blade sunk deeper into his back, piercing his lung. He gasped for breath and swayed on his knees. His bow fell to the ground in front of him as his body went cold and numb. All the sounds of battle faded; his eyes closed and he collapsed into the blood stained grass.