Year : 1344
Place : Shimmering Vale, Hadescolt
As the first light of dawn caressed the horizon, the sun's golden fingers stretched across the sky, casting a warm, amber glow over the tranquil landscape. The rolling hills, blanketed in lush green fields, seemed to shimmer under the embrace of the early morning light. The air was crisp, filled with the soft melodies of birds heralding the new day.
A woman stood at the crest of a gentle hill, her figure outlined against the soft morning light. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet warmth, and her smile hinted at a deep-seated kindness. As she moved, her sun-kissed hair framed a face that seemed to embody a sense of peaceful contentment.
Nearby, her twin daughters, lively four-year-olds, played with infectious laughter, their joy echoing across the open expanse. The woman busied herself with preparing the morning meal, the savory aroma mingling with the fresh scent of dew-kissed grass. It Is a graceful morning.
On the opposite side of the hill, a man and his son is engaged in rigorous training. The father, of modest height with closely cropped hair, moved with practiced precision, his muscles rippling beneath a sweat-dampened shirt. His son, Peter, a nineteen-year-old with a similar short haircut, mirrored his father's movements, his youthful vigor evident in each punch and parry. Despite the metallic limiters- heavy metal bands wrapped in cloth -encasing his arms and legs, designed to restrain his formidable strength strength, Peter's prowess was undeniable. His strikes were swift, his defense unwavering, gradually overpowering his father's defenses. It's a fight to behold.
All of a sudden the ground below them began to shake, It was no laughing matter as both Father and son looked ahead the vast field
A formidable sight met their gaze: hundreds of soldiers on horseback, their armor glinting ominously in the morning light, charging toward them with relentless speed.
Peter! I don't know who they are, but they are not here for peace, Dad says.
Get your mum and your siblings on a horse and ride, I'll catch up with you guys.
Peter hesitated; That's not a good plan, he says..
Just Go! his father commanded, eyes fixed on the approaching threat. "I'll hold them off. Protect our family."
Regardless, Peter sprinted toward his mother and sisters. The woman had already sensed the danger, her expression a mix of fear and determination.
She swiftly gathered the twins, their innocent faces now shadowed with confusion, and together they mounted the horse, Peter catches up with his mum and,
With a final, anxious glance toward her husband, she urged the horse forward, galloping away from the impending peril.
He'll be fine, he has always been fine
She says,
Back on the hill, the father enters the modest farmhouse, emerging moments later with a sword gleaming in his hand.
He positioned himself as a solitary barrier between his fleeing family and the oncoming soldiers.
Who are they and what do they want?
He asks himself,
The first assailant lunged, sword raised with lethal intent. The father sidestepped with agility, delivering a powerful kick that unseated the attacker. Another soldier seized the opportunity, hurling his weapon toward the father, who caught it mid-air and, with unbelievable accuracy, sent it hurtling back, striking the assailant's neck.
Why do you attack us?
Who do you work for?
the father demanded, his voice a thunderous roar over the clamor of hooves.
But the soldiers offered no reply, their silence as menacing as their advance. Undeterred, the father braced himself, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike, as the horde closed in around him.
Meanwhile, Peter and his family raced across the open field, the wind whipping against their faces.
But the enemy's numbers were overwhelming; several riders had circled around the skirmish, cutting off their escape. Sensing the imminent threat, Peter leaped from the horse, positioning himself as a human shield between the soldiers and his loved ones.
The first attacker charged, sword slicing through the air. With great accuracy using his limiters Peter deflected the blow with a swift upward block, the clash of both metals resonating like a bell tolling doom. He countered with a brutal punch to the soldier's midsection,
the force sending the man sprawling, gasping for breath.
Another assailant approached from the left; Peter spun, delivering a kick that connected with the soldier's chest, the impact echoing like a drumbeat across the hill.
The struggle goes on and on and on
Despite his valiant efforts, the sheer number of adversaries began to take its toll.
This won't end well, Peter says to himself
A sword grazed his arm, searing pain shooting through him, but he fought on, driven by a primal need to protect.
His movements, though powerful began to slow, Fatigue slowly creept to his limbs as he continues to brutally finish off the soldiers.
I can't go down now now, I can't get tired now, He uttered to himself as he breathes heavily.
In the chaos, he caught sight of his mother's horse colliding with an enemy steed,
She screams as she covers her kids while falling off the horse.
The soldiers surrounded his mother as they take the kids from her.
They strike her repeatedly as the once green ground gets stained in red
No! Peter's voice was raw with anguish as he struggled against the soldiers restraining him, his heart shattering as he witnessed the unthinkable.
The remaining soldiers takes his sisters on a horse and gallops away into the landscape.
He had lost, He had betrayed his father, He had failed
A guttural cry tore from his throat, a sound of pure despair and fury.
He fought with renewed ferocity, but his strength was waning, the limiters weighing him down like anchors.
Blows rained upon him, The soldiers beat him unendingly without any intent of killing him.
Why won't they kill me?, what need am I to them?, Why torture me?
Blows connected until he passes out,
The world blurring into a haze of pain and sorrow, until darkness claimed him.
Place: Grimtol Stronghold, Gorhata
Two messangers walks in a semi dark room, sitted on a throne is a bald short fat man.
"The King Gomah"
We have taken hold of the agreed locations, king Gomah, The slaves are to arrive in about a week's time.. says the shorter one of the two messangers.
And the boy? King Gomah ask's
He's also been captured, in good condition although they had been casualties.
Replies one of the messangers.
Call in the princess Eritrea, There is work to be done,
replies the King
Place: Gorhata
When consciousness returned, Peter found himself in a jolting cart, the rough wood pressing against his bruised body. Chains encircled his wrists and ankles, cold and unyielding.
Around him, others shared his fate, men, women, children-all bound, their eyes reflecting a shared despair. The landscape had changed; the environment different,
You're finally up?
Looking on to his side a fellow man of the same age says to him.
Yeah I am, where are we? peter replied
We seem to have enter Gorhata, says the stranger.
Gorhata? Peter says weakingly, how long have I been out?
A week.. says the stranger
Peter shows disbelief, he struggles to sits up,
His failure of the other week came flushing through his mind, He becomes quiet as he looks down hard into the properties of the wood.
Does my Dad survive, what about my siblings are they okay,
Several questions passed through his mind.
He looks around, he's sensed he's going to hell, something awaits him here...