A draft for now

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A draft of a fantacy

Submitted: December 08, 2010

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Submitted: December 08, 2010



The race of man wasn't always so powerful. The great kingdoms were once nothing more than tribes and slaves. Ages ago, humans mined the stone they now use to build their great cities. At one time, they smelted the ores that now make their weapons under the lash of a task master. Humans milled the inks of their great works, but did so for other artists. Goblins, Dwarves, Orcs and even Elves enslaved humans, trading them like simple bolts of cloth. Generations passed before the race of man proved they were better than beasts. One man led a revolution and brought about the age of man.

His name was Angilos. Legend and myth says he was the son of a God and Demon, honor and war. A young man, still a year before his coming of age, Angilos struck the first blow. Raised by a tribal hunter, the young lad was following the other hunters. Armed with simple bows, they stalked the hills and forests for a hearty bounty of deer and bird. One evening, a dwarven scout stumbled into the hunter's camp, gravely wounded. Thankful for the help, the scout gave his sword to the hunters.

The dwarven weapon was finer than anything the human hunter had seen or heard of. A blade so sharp it could split hairs down their length. So well balance it felt light as a feather. So strong it could cut and crush stone. Etched art covered the flats of the blade and hilt. The dwarf explained the marking were his language, it was a prophecy. The weapon would bring about great changes in the world. Soon after, the scout died of his wound. They were too deep for the humans to be of more help.

Unsure of whom the sword went to, the party decided who ever brought down the great’s beast would be given the sword. Many sought deer and elk. Such a massive beast with enough meat to feed the tribe for weeks would surely be worthy of gaining to sword. A few others searched for dire wolves and bears. Bringing down a deadly threat would prove the hunter a true warrior and more than worthy of the sword. Angilos asked his mythic parents for advice. What should I hunt mother? Father what would be an honorable pray?

He found his answer just an arrow's shot away. Orcish scouts and slavers stomped through the trees, grunting at and smacking each other. With all his strength and skill, Angilos let loose an arrow. He found his mark in the neck of the lead orc. The bestial creature fell to the ground, bleeding to death. The others gathered indo a defensive ring but to little avail. Though using a simple bow, the strength of a warrior guided the arrows to the chink and weak point in the Orc's armor. With the party dead and dying, Angilos gathered their banner and with his hatched took the head of the leader.

At the hunting camp, Angilos presented his prey. Though a young lad still, he was given the sword. The sword shimmered and gleamed in his hands before changing shape all together. Still light, sharp and strong it was now much longer, almost as long as Angilos was tall. With prey and trophy in hand, the hunter returned to the village for a feast lasting four days. On the fifth day, Orcs came to the tribe and demanded the murderer of the other Orc scouts. Angilos proudly stepped forward to face the charges, his sword in hand.

"So the Dwarves give weapons to humans in our lands? Very well," The orc grunted and dropped of his dire warg. "Loknash, take word back to the fort. I will see justice done,"

Challenged to single combat against an orcish warrior, Angilos looked to his sword. His village began mourning his loss. With a roar, the Orc charged, Steel met steel and the orc's axe met the dwarven blade. Angilos fought hard, the battle dragged on for minutes, then half an hour. With a final thrust, Angilos Struck down the Orc. Bloodied, Angilos challenged the remaining orcs. None came forward and all left the village.

As the weeks passed word spread and other tribes came to the home of Angilos to see the Orc Slayer. The weeks turned to month and Angilos came of age as a young man. A young warrior. A few rogue dwarves came to the village turned down and set up forges to arm the Humans. Angilos selected the strongest and fastest humans and trained them with what he knew of sword play. With dwarven swords and spears, the village militia felt like a great army. They would need to if they were to survive their first trial.

Half a year after Angilos had slew the first orcs; a war band of orcish warriors assaulted the town. Now walled in the villagers were safe for the moment. Angilos summoned his militia and asked the rogue dwarves to help lead them into battle. The dwarves did, armed with mighty war hammers. Five score orcs crushed the gate and poured into the town. They were soon met by Angilos and a band of two dozen militia fighters. They fight lasted mere minutes as a second group of militia led by a dwarf came up the flank of the Orc's line of attack. The third group of militia had snuck out of town and raided the Orc's war camp. Surrounded and in danger of losing their supplies the orcs retreated.

Angilos, the Orc Slayer, gained a second title: The Battle Captain. A dwarven rank given to one of strategic skill and combat prowess. A victory feast was held and dozens of fathers asked Angilos the take their daughter's hand in marriage. Saying he would give the idea full thought, Angilos asked the families to enjoy the feast.

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