Elonas, The Last Magic Kingdom
Posted: Fri Sep 22, 2006 5:03 pm
Areon walked about one of the southern halls of the royal palice, crevices in the wall housed many statues on pedestals, of warriors long past, and warriors still alive, one of which was Elbereth, the Elven King, of the woods. He had never met the elf, in his one hundred fourty years of life, and he hoped that he would. Except for Areon, the Half Dragon prince, the hall was empty of people, as was most of the palice these days, only coming for guidance, or the occassional dispute, from his father, King Osric, or his Mother, the Dragon Queen, Sarcafologochi, Sara most people called her, for her name was very hard to pronounce. Areon wore his normal Mage Knight attire, with the absence of his helmet, which was in his Pack of Holding at the moment. He brought his left hand up a few inches infront of himself, looking down on the topside of his scaly, clawed hand, on his middle finger was his golden ring with a amythist gem imbedded in it, this ring was the osurce of his magical shield.
He knew his father was an excellent and fair king, a king who didn't hoard food to himself, but actually was very caring for his subjects and people, but the kingdom was boring, except for the orcs he slayed every now and then. He looked back to the statue of Jorn The Orc Cleaver, a human who lived two hudnred years ago, known for his excellence at slaughtering orcs with his three pronged spear, and the statue stood at attention, with the bottom of the spear on the ground, pointed outward to the side of the statue, it was infact the real spear of the warrior. The castle's scribes always kept the weapon shined, and clear of dust, but who looked on it besides himself every so often? He looked down and sighed, sounding much louder than he had intended to in the emptiness of the hallway.
On his belt, on the left side was his magnificent sword, ready to be brandished, and put into combat at anytime. It had not tasted orcish flesh in a long time, but he knew, Areon knew that something was going to happen soon. People wearing strange, crudely made iron chainmail, helmets, bronze short swords, and shields painted red with a cross in the middle of the kite-like shield, were coming into the forests surrounding the kingdom, always in groups of five through ten, and always beginning to attack first, the first encounter was beaten back by five knights in gold, create a route with the five that lived, and a second one where a couple of elves, in trees destroyed an entire group of ten of them, using bows. But Areon wasn't concerned, and didn't let his people, the people whom the Mage Knights, Knights in gold, and the Soldiers in white protected know, for they didn't want panic.
Prince Areon sighed once again, turning right and began to walk silently down the hallway, taking a left, and then a right. This path took him to the throne room, the doors were closed, and he pushed right through the two doors, he looked to his right first, where a gold dragon, his mother lay sleeping on a hoard of gold and jewels, then forward infront of him, sat his father, King Osric, in a throne, and to the king's left was an empty throne for Areon's Mother, if she so chose to revert to human form. Noticing that his father was busy, giving guidance to a commoner, he turned and left, without even a word. He took a straight route this time, toward the Huge doors, the exit. They were open, letting in the fresh morning air, and stained glass windows above them, let colored beams of light in, He walked out, viewing at the clear sky, on the horizon it turned from blue, to orange then to pink, it was morning, and he was facing east. Areon smiled, showing his pointy teeth. The two guards that flanked him spoke up in unison. Hail Prince Areon, the first born! Hail the Knights in Gold. He replied back to the knights. And with that, he began walking down the steep stairs downward toward the magnificent city.
The city was one of art, inventiveness and creativity, everything was covered with white limestone, some building were elegant, others weirdly shaped in places, and some if spiraled upwards, and in the morning light, the city gave off a remarkable whitish-purple glow, that was unmatched in beuaty. And at dusk, it shown the same color. On his way down to the city, a poor beggar approached him, looking up in envy. The beggar was bloated, from lack of food, and his bones were easily seen through the pale, wrinkly skin. Areon took a pouch off of his belt, opening it, and taking out several gold coins. Take these poor beggar. He reached his hand out, and dropped the coins into the man's hands, the gold coins would be enough for the man to buy an apartment, and get some clothes, and food to last him an entire year. The old man, looked up at the prince, who only smiled and nodded, to say 'your welcome' silently. Areon continued his descent, already feeling good about himself, for being charitable to the poor, he didn't like the fact that there were even beggars in any town in this kingdom, but it was inevitable, and Areon would help one beggar at a time, if he ever came across one, as long as he lived.
He knew his father was an excellent and fair king, a king who didn't hoard food to himself, but actually was very caring for his subjects and people, but the kingdom was boring, except for the orcs he slayed every now and then. He looked back to the statue of Jorn The Orc Cleaver, a human who lived two hudnred years ago, known for his excellence at slaughtering orcs with his three pronged spear, and the statue stood at attention, with the bottom of the spear on the ground, pointed outward to the side of the statue, it was infact the real spear of the warrior. The castle's scribes always kept the weapon shined, and clear of dust, but who looked on it besides himself every so often? He looked down and sighed, sounding much louder than he had intended to in the emptiness of the hallway.
On his belt, on the left side was his magnificent sword, ready to be brandished, and put into combat at anytime. It had not tasted orcish flesh in a long time, but he knew, Areon knew that something was going to happen soon. People wearing strange, crudely made iron chainmail, helmets, bronze short swords, and shields painted red with a cross in the middle of the kite-like shield, were coming into the forests surrounding the kingdom, always in groups of five through ten, and always beginning to attack first, the first encounter was beaten back by five knights in gold, create a route with the five that lived, and a second one where a couple of elves, in trees destroyed an entire group of ten of them, using bows. But Areon wasn't concerned, and didn't let his people, the people whom the Mage Knights, Knights in gold, and the Soldiers in white protected know, for they didn't want panic.
Prince Areon sighed once again, turning right and began to walk silently down the hallway, taking a left, and then a right. This path took him to the throne room, the doors were closed, and he pushed right through the two doors, he looked to his right first, where a gold dragon, his mother lay sleeping on a hoard of gold and jewels, then forward infront of him, sat his father, King Osric, in a throne, and to the king's left was an empty throne for Areon's Mother, if she so chose to revert to human form. Noticing that his father was busy, giving guidance to a commoner, he turned and left, without even a word. He took a straight route this time, toward the Huge doors, the exit. They were open, letting in the fresh morning air, and stained glass windows above them, let colored beams of light in, He walked out, viewing at the clear sky, on the horizon it turned from blue, to orange then to pink, it was morning, and he was facing east. Areon smiled, showing his pointy teeth. The two guards that flanked him spoke up in unison. Hail Prince Areon, the first born! Hail the Knights in Gold. He replied back to the knights. And with that, he began walking down the steep stairs downward toward the magnificent city.
The city was one of art, inventiveness and creativity, everything was covered with white limestone, some building were elegant, others weirdly shaped in places, and some if spiraled upwards, and in the morning light, the city gave off a remarkable whitish-purple glow, that was unmatched in beuaty. And at dusk, it shown the same color. On his way down to the city, a poor beggar approached him, looking up in envy. The beggar was bloated, from lack of food, and his bones were easily seen through the pale, wrinkly skin. Areon took a pouch off of his belt, opening it, and taking out several gold coins. Take these poor beggar. He reached his hand out, and dropped the coins into the man's hands, the gold coins would be enough for the man to buy an apartment, and get some clothes, and food to last him an entire year. The old man, looked up at the prince, who only smiled and nodded, to say 'your welcome' silently. Areon continued his descent, already feeling good about himself, for being charitable to the poor, he didn't like the fact that there were even beggars in any town in this kingdom, but it was inevitable, and Areon would help one beggar at a time, if he ever came across one, as long as he lived.
