company of winter (prologue)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
sat down at school and decided to start writing. just a unfinished project but hope it's enjoyable!

Submitted: September 01, 2016

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Submitted: September 01, 2016

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 Company of winter

Ivan and his band of brethren watched the Newfoundland with utmost curiosity. The Warriors, beards woven with ice, had trekked the most unforgiving of climates in search of the safe haven the oracle had foreseen. Ivan was a mountain of a man, and a natural leader, raised from youth for greatness from powerful and successful  nobles. Throughout boyhood, Ivan had discarded his insecurities for newfound confidence, courtesy of his likable personality and the aura of safety that seemed to emanate from his well-toned body. He was a people's person and rose through the ranks to take the Jarl's throne after the former's untimely death. The peace would not remain unbroken however, as a mysterious and chilling entity rose to throw the arctic north out of balance. The Bjorjik barbarians had possessed the frigid polar islands and thrived in the sub-zero conditions, other people would consider inhospitable for ages, until a scourge was awoken from ancient slumber to retake the ancestral land, "The Black Clad Shaman." The royal oracle had been predicting the rise of a new foe, but nothing on the scale of the Shaman. They slithered in black cloaks that dragged torn and ravaged in the white snow, and hid the inhuman face beneath. The creatures were extremely tall and lean, two heads taller than the grandest mammoth. Brandishing sleek, emerald cutlasses that dripped with poison and corrosion. They marched in silent formations and sailed the misty bays with creaking boats of Plank and moss; truly masters of stealth. Most hideous of all, was their warlord and commander, "The Thin one" who beyond all measure, in-bodied the most Hellish things of the Earth and most demented of all stories. This monstrosity was as mysterious as the rest of it's following but fought and moved with the ferocity and pace of 20 stallions. The oracle had risked her own life to forecast this vision to Ivan. Under the trance of her magic, the oracle was said to have felt the Agonizing touch of the Thin one's claw from the deepest abyss of the glacial caverns below, and fell into a coma.
With the quick action of Ivan and his legion, the Shaman were repelled. What the Thin One did not account for, was the extraordinary ability of the Bjorjik men and women. Capable soldiers trained from youth under the most extreme of temperature, to reach almost an immunity to the cold. Technology was superior, with blacksmiths combining alchemy and smithing to create marvelous weapons of conquest and liberation. And with the inheritance of the the throne to Erik and his royal guard fought with a confidence and trust that can only be described as divine intervention. But, with the failure of his invasion, the Thin One knew know bounds in forging the most devastating force in the world, deploying powerful new combatants such as beast riding cavalry, and shadowy archers, able to scath the wings of a butterfly from a mile away. So, with the wisdom of the oracle and the help of his most trusted guard, Erik set off to find the promised haven, the fortress of solitude, the oracle's final vision.


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